#i'm introspective tonight

[paperstorm]

Your tags on that gifset hit home a bit for me, I think.. something I've found very difficult this season is seeing sort of a lack of compassion from some people in this fandom toward Carlos' tendency to avoid difficult situations and conversations. I understand that things are dialed up for dramatic purposes, but as someone who can relate to that tendency and also struggles with it, it's been upsetting to reckon with the idea that TK showing him kindness, grace, and compassion is too much, or that he shouldn't be. I understand people being upset by his actions and I don't want to invalidate those feelings, but I'm left wondering if the wishes for TK to have been harsher are a reflection of how these people treat individuals in their real lives who struggle with this as Carlos does. Again, I don't want to dismiss anyone's feelings, this season has definitely been polarizing, I just wish people would be more careful with the words they use.

I have a lot of compassion for anyone not enjoying his story this season because I don't think anyone wants to feel that way. I think there are people who have loved Carlos and were excited for this season and feel really let down by how he's been written this year and that's not a place anyone would be by choice. It's just how they feel, and that's gotta be really awful.

Idk. The writing has been somewhat sloppy with some of this, I don't deny that. But at the same time, Carlos is a person who spent his whole life until he was 26 years old feeling like he couldn't be fully honest about basically anything. Feeling like he wasn't safe to tell people his truths. That's not a thing you can just shake off or something that magically goes away the day someone falls in love with you. That's a lifetime of trauma and learned behavior. Of course he should have been more honest with TK but that's not a simple thing, for a person who's spent their whole life being guarded as a necessary defense mechanism. It's not an excuse, but it's a valid reason, and a little bit of grace is not unreasonable. Especially from someone who loves him. Sometimes it feels like the internet at large likes to talk a big talk about how supportive they are about mental illness right up until the point that someone starts displaying symptoms of mental illness, and then it's too far or they're problematic or they should've gone to therapy and fixed themselves or they're using it as an excuse or they're causing harm by daring to not be perfect. And Carlos isn't real. You can't hurt his feelings by not offering him any compassion. But other people are real, and they see those harsh and uncompassionate reactions, and that's where feelings get hurt.

[spacey-xannabelle]

Don't you hate it when a cyclone tosses your island into space and you land in the water without your helmet

[owl-with-a-pen]

Weightless, Kara coasted across the stratosphere of a broken world. Static still bristled at the corners of her vision, enough that even from far above, there were pockets she wasn't able to decipher past the fog. With a gasp, she burst forward with unmitigated strength, throwing herself into orbit.

Up and up she flew until, finally, she settled somewhere that direction no longer mattered - cradled by the infinite lull of the universe.

And yet the pain still found her. The memories. Flashes of blood and death and destruction. A blaring heat at the back of her mind, ringing in her ears until the pressure was too much to bear. A blast of raw energy that had erupted from her eyes, blown to astronomical scale by the technology Father had designed just for her.

Destroyed. How could they all be… gone? How was that possible? How had she… how could she…?

Legs curled tight to her chest, Kara felt no more than a child held static by the void. The same child who had been marched up and down Kandor’s vast hallways for years on end; measuring her strength, her speed, her dexterity through rigorous training cycles led by the holographic foes that had been pasted to the indistinguishable bodies of Father’s Primus drones. Her mind, of course, had been exercised to the same extreme – a most powerful tool, Father had praised. Encouraged by his enthusiasm, she had read from data crystals at his console for hours at a time, covering endless topics in both theory and practice until he had decided she was finally ready for her most important lesson.

Of the worlds soon to be welcomed by the New Kryptonian Empire.

Kara pressed her palms against her eyes, forcing herself into those softer memories.

She’d learnt first of Thanagar – how to speak in their crude tongue, or to fly in the same undulating method as though guided along by a set of her own burly wings. It was less dignified than the freedom of movement a Kryptonian had against gravity, and yet Kara had revelled in its exciting and unpredictable nature, the way it would make her stomach flip with every sudden dive or sharp swoop. She had laughed loudly alongside other Thanagarians, joining them on migrations, watching on as they had welcomed technological advancement alongside their centuries-old traditions. She had sat down with Thanagarian elders, staring transfixed as they had whittled figures of their Wingmen from great trunks – an order held in high esteem, expected to police a world that had once prevailed without the need for such intervention.

They struggle, Father had told her, to find order. Their construct is failing, their ideals… inefficient. The Kryptonian Empire would bring them the perfect order that they crave.

Kara’s eyes widened behind her hands, that same numbness from before creeping back into her mind. Placating her. Assuring her…

Their planet had been beautiful. She had found joy there… high up in the sky along with the other children.

Children.

Kara squirmed against the void, a whimper lodging itself deep inside her throat.

Soft memory. The planet was mesmerising, with vast cities, limitless oceans and stone perches set high into the sky to witness the most tranquil sunsets. Statues stood tall out in open water, meticulously crafted by sculptors over years, their chisels held steady against the hefty beat of their wings.

And on the ground, beneath the ocean floor, caves had stretched for miles, whistling their own tunes, smelling of salt water and…

Flush with Nth metal deposits, Father had informed her once with a grounding hand. A long time ago. Going to waste on limited minds undeserving of its uses! Seize the planet for the Empire, Daughter, and strengthen our own resources in the process.

She had demolished senselessly for… for resources?

No. No. That couldn’t be it. That wasn’t true.

Soft memory. What of Euphorix? A matriarchal society, Kara remembered, one that had welcomed her with open arms. Father had not joined her there. She had been free, for a time. The Euphorians had not been in need of a new order as he had described. They’d had their own already.

And Kara… desperate for a planet to call her home, had nearly fallen for their…

False ideology.

She cringed, burying herself further away.

They will welcome you without question. The perfect unsuspecting ally. An alien with much to learn. But you will learn of them, using the powers they do not possess; study their battle strategies, their vulnerabilities. Find out everything you can about them and exploit it. Do this, Daughter, and the New Empire will be forever in your debt.

Kara shuddered. The Empire, of course, she had done it all for the…

H’lven had been next. A juvenile planet made of half-breeds, rodents who had evolved similarly to how apes had on Earth. Kara had found their easy way of life hypnotic, a simpler means to exist. She had studied their rituals as instructed, their holidays and their hibernation periods. Although, Father had been most intrigued by the latter…

Take their world while they sleep. Ensure no resistance.

Tears rolled down Kara’s cheeks and she clenched her fists harder against her face, shaking her head until her skin was raw against her knuckles. She had learnt their languages, their politics, their battles won and lost. Their tactical advantages, their disadvantages. Everything that might make them susceptible to attack.

All of it locked away behind false memories, or perhaps, distorted ones. Just like the wall on Thanagar, the glyphs carved into every planet face they had invaded. A mural immortalising the Kryptonian trickster who had lived among them before raining fire down from the sky.

Every planet, shy of one.

Kara gasped shakily, folding even tighter into herself.

Earth had been an outlier. Father had instructed her not to stray from her directive – all would come together in time. But she had been… impatient, more-so than with other planets. For this one had called to her, not to Father, to her. A message filtered through space, from one who called himself… Kal.

Hello. Uh, Kara… I don’t know if this will work, but if you’re out there and you get this message, I’m tired of being alone. I thought you might be too. Your cousin, Kal-El

The language had been strange to her ears at first, and while Father’s translation technology had made the words decipherable, she’d wanted to hear it for herself, in the language it had been intended for.

Earth. Not part of their plan – not yet - but English was one of the many languages stored in Father’s databanks. There must have been reason for that.

And so, Kara had sat with the Primus drones for days, speaking back the chaotic language that was English consonant by consonant until she had achieved fluency, the common vernacular. She’d needed to ascertain that there was no doubt for mistranslation, the message was too important to misinterpret.

Especially that word, the one this Kal-El had used as his sign-off.

And when she was certain, Kara had cried tears of joy for the first and only time that she could recall.

Cousin had meant family.

Thinking back, she wasn’t sure why she’d kept this from Father for so long. After all, would he not have been overjoyed to learn of another Kryptonian’s survival? To add to the ranks that they were sorely lacking?

He would. He will.

Then why? Why wait? Perhaps she had feared exactly what had happened. That even with the knowledge of another Kryptonian, a blood relation, he had still forbidden her from straying from their plan. The new Kryptonian was interesting, and he would prove an indisputable ally, but only when the time was right. And only when they arrived on Earth together.

You must learn from your mistakes, Daughter.

Kara nearly scoffed at the echo of Father’s words. Mistakes? How was she to know what mistakes had been made when they were locked behind a wall of static within her own mind? She had been instructed to embody the planets that they conquered, to take from them their tongue, their beliefs, their strategies, all to determine exactly how she might bring their downfall most efficiently. A Kryptonian was strong, but Father had wanted more from her. Power was not just in one’s physical traits, after all.

The perfect weapon must be astute both in mind and body. Kara, my daughter, you will be the essence of our Empire.

But how was she meant to embody a world without falling in love with it? The Thanagarians and their art, the Euphorians and their wisdom, the H’lvenites and their innocence. They were ideals she had fallen for, ideals she had been punished for daring to emulate.

A test of your loyalty, Daughter, Father had told her once, when the fog had again cleared intermittently from her mind. So that I know your will is unwavering and your allegiance to the Empire is without question. These are all… necessary extractions.

Kara’s chest caught suddenly, and the tears on her face rolled in globules out across the star-lit void.

That word. Extractions. She wondered suddenly if she was remembering it correctly.

But with everything she couldn’t grasp, the pieces she could only felt clearer for it. That memory was without fog. It was unmuted. Bold.

Father would have punished her for her keepsakes. For the recipe book she’d been gifted on Euphorix, the statue the elders on Thanagar had crafted just for her. He had believed her obsessions childish and inappropriate. Not fit for a warrior. But… Father had not been speaking of her small treasures, then. They were mere tokens, not extractions. And… if her memory was correct, he wouldn’t yet have known about them at all.

Kara wiped her eyes harshly, staring down at the broken planet beneath her, the stuttered clouds that swirled overhead, raining ash onto an empty world.

From this high up, she couldn’t see the elements of her destruction that had ravaged the planet, and yet in her heart she knew that a great deal was gone.

More than that. Because, as her eyes started to scan, slicing through the fog, she realised that it wasn’t just the city structures or coveted resources that had been eradicated.

Something else was missing.

More static. More deceptions.

Kara had knelt in the ruins of Thanalder, she had felt the rubble of the planet’s largest city beneath her knees, recognising the scorch marks on the stone as her own deadly assault. That had been real. She’d been so ashamed, so disgusted, that she’d sent herself reeling into the sky. There was only so much that could have been seen from ground level, anyway.

Now, though, she had the perfect vantage to see it all.

As much as it hurt, she forced herself to keep looking beyond the fog, to see past her soft memory. The static hadn’t yet receded completely, and there were still pieces hidden from her, obscured in pockets of lost time.

She scratched at the surface of that memory, focusing harder and harder until her skull ached with every rock upturned. No longer did she lie foetal and numb in the darkness, no longer would she allow Father to dismantle her memory for his own gain. He had taken more from her than she had ever known and… and more still from the planets they had conquered.

When the static finally cleared, a chasm opened somewhere inside of Kara’s heart, mimicking that of the city-sized craters she could now see carved from the planet’s surface, left to sully the landscape below.

A shudder passed down her spine as she kept staring, willing herself to understand.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, something Kal-El had said to her struck again so suddenly, she nearly choked.

Are all the planets in the New Kryptonian Empire like this?

He had been right to question it, Kara realised dully. Father had promised her an Empire, a new Krypton that she’d be old enough to protect this time around. But… who was left here to protect? What had Father taken?

Keepsakes. Like hers.

Just, on a much grander scale.

Fury clogged her throat, then grief, then an unbearable agony.

Hypocrite! her mind screamed.

Father had let her fall in love with planet after planet, given her that freedom, only to take it away every time he’d obscured her mind. And, when she woke, the things she had loved were gone. A token in their place.

But what of Father’s tokens, what of Father’s cities? They weren’t hidden in shame behind a wall. They were proud markers of conquest. Trophies. Displayed, somehow…

How could he have them on display?

But Kara’s memories didn’t lie, not any longer, and she remembered the spires of the lost cities of Thanagar, Euphorix’s capitol of Aesad, and the densely populated forests on H’lven. Neatly tucked together beneath ornamental glass domes…

Kara shook her head. It didn’t matter. It couldn't. They were gone because of him. They were gone because of her…

How long until Father pitted Earth just as he had the others? What city might he spare for his collection, his Empire?

Kara thought at once of Jimmy Flamebird’s face, the kindness and honesty he had offered her, and remembered the feel of his hand in her own. A frail, human hand, not even capable of bending steel, but he had extended it to her just the same.

What would happen to him now? The planet she had barely made time for in her haste to visit alone. There was still so much to learn from it, but Father’s crystals would offer her no insight now. He would only fog her mind again. If she returned to him now, if he learned of her defiance, everything she had discovered would be lost to her.

Even without a gravitational force, Kara felt something solid ball inside her stomach, pulling her down from the navel.

She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t go forward, either. She was… alone.

As she curled back in on herself, desperate to drive her demons away, she didn’t think she’d ever felt this small. “Kal-El?” she asked the void, picturing his face in the spaces between broken memory. When that failed, her voice faltered. “Clark?”

Kara didn’t expect an answer when she whispered, “What do I do now?”

[also on AO3]

[serotoninisheldinkiwis]

the family of all time

[electricea]

i think for me the one thing i'll always try to bear in mind and try to take away from rp is that it's okay to embrace your corny ideas - we're all here writing fiction together, it's okay to get a little corny and out there. having grown up around realists and people who laugh at or belittle corniness, it was always something i tried to stifle or avoid and worrying about not being embarrassed or other people thinking it's dumb is something i have to keep reminding myself but honestly, it's such a guilty pleasure and if it's between you and someone else who won't judge you or make you feel childish or embarrassed for it, embrace it - just say your corniest and dumbest ideas and see who's interested. always worth asking, at least.

[flowercrowngods]

hi my inbox is full of so much love and affection right now and i swear i am not ignoring anyone, i see all your "you make me happy" asks and your cat pics and your "i hope you have a wonderful day" messages but i swear i'm not ignoring you, i'm just gonna bask in them a little longer 🥰🤍

[eversea143]

The thing about being a writer who likes to write villains, the kind of villains who have zero morals and zero care, is that you have to place your own headset into theirs in order to write them properly.

I can tell you with a quiet confidence when poison would work and when it wouldn't. I can tell you with certainty how one might rationalize child murder. I can tell you how one sneers down at those seen as lesser and why this can give someone satisfaction. I can tell you - and offer real-life proof - how mass-murder has down- and upsides. I can tell you how an evil mind plots the death of innocent people and not feel an ounce of remorse.

Sometimes I feel genuinely unsettled after writing my villains, not just because the stuff I write is a horror-addict's best dream, but because this is a mindset I am capable of imagining.

You can't imagine a mind that wouldn't functionally work. That's also why characters who act without a baseline seem so flat and fake. Everything has a reason, we rationalize even the irrational to justify something we've said or done.

"He deserves it" "She's mad" "I don't care" we always have a reason.

Even those who are evil down to the core justify their evil deeds; for most it's simply the satisfaction of being evil and doing whatever you want. Even when someone knows intimately that they're a bad person, the mind will conjur up a reason, an explanation, a cause to keep the mindset going. As long as their own emotions don't counteract how they think, things like guilt and remorse don't come into play. A person can perfectly kill someone and feel happy or even excited at their actions.

Humans aren't inherintly good or evil. But we are perfectly capable of being solely one or the other. The gray side exists and is best suited for a grand majority of the human population, but just as we believe children are the epitome of innocence, there exist people so full of nothing but hatred and rage that there's no chance - truly no viable path - of redemption. They're the kind of people you would gladly lock up, for whom even death may seem like a mercy.

I write characters like this. I delve into their twisted minds and figure out what rational they function with to do their horrid deeds. I do this by my own choice and the only thing that I can think after I'm done is "Thank god I'm not like this."

(At what point is my own reason any different from theirs?)

[jennytwosheds]

You know that tired feeling when you have to start the fun personal project over again but different, because creatively it's the right thing to do, so you put it down Just for a Minute™ & then can't seem to muster the stamina or strength or whatever-virtue-it-is to get back to work? Anybody else ever feel like you've completely changed your mind about everything, deleted & grieved the whole self identity one too many times, & now can't be bothered to start again, so it's just like an empty room in here? Anyone else been driving their husk around for ages now, putting off the work you know you must begin anew, just as doomed this time as the last? Anyone else decide, spiritually, that now that the antibiotics have reduced the pain of the abcess that maybe the root canal isn't actually even completely necessary? I mean, I feel fine now, right? Is it even possible for a country boy to escape the cycle of death and rebirth?

[torchickentacos]

FIGURING SOME SHIT OUT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!

[gloryundimmed]

Oh, mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head

See, the sea wants to take me

The knife wants to slit me

Do you think you can help me?

Sad veiled bride, please, be happy

Handsome groom, give her room

Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly

Though she needs you more than she loves you

[swampndn]

CW: graphic sexual assault

Something I've been thinking about, especially as new conversations with this new man have shifted more sexual in nature (consentually) is that he's now the XXth person to comment about how he can just tell that I'm a good lay. And while he's not wrong, I am wondering what is it about my energy that gives that impression?

Like people I do not know have come up to me and said that they could tell I'm a whore, a slut, etc. While there is NOTHING wrong with being those things, and we LOVE femmes reclaiming slut with pride, people have said that to me for YEARS. Even back when I hadn't ever been sexually active yet.

Now, I will say some of those contexts are not great. The first time I ever sucked dick was forcibly during an assault. And he said he knew I was a whore and could tell by how I was "performing".

I've been in a lot of therapy. I'm genuinely fine with a lot of my sexual assault history at this point. Don't worry. I'm okay on this front.

But just with this new person saying something similar when honestly I'd argue that I'm not all that consentually experienced, I can't help but wonder what exactly is it about me that gives this impression? Is it the same vibe I give off that makes everyone want to wife me? (Recently learned. It's the combo pack of being confident, knowing am hot shit attitude, and generally being pretty.) Or is it something else? Oversexualization of Native femmes? Fetishization of Natives? Of course, deep in my trauma brain are echoes of what's been said to me during many assaults.

But I am curious now that I'm in a pretty safe environment with a new person who has been steadily building trust and hearing it again.

These are just the questions I'm grappling with currently.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Some of these comments have been made in good, consensual situations. I love slut life. I especially love being called one when I'm with someone. However, most of these comments have occurred in situations where the person making them would have no frame of reference as they don't know me. Thus the grappling questions.

[blushweddinggowns]

Idea expanded, Rockstar Eddie falling head over heels for Bartender Steve working in a high class club type of joint. He sees him working one night and thinks God damn, he's hot. I'm taking him home tonight.

Except bartender Steve has developed a significant distaste for celebrities and rich people in general because of getting cut off from his homophobic parents for coming out and the general bad way many have treated him at work whilst sloshed. But lucky for Eddie, Steve doesn't recognize him. And even though he started off in a trailer park, the fame has gone to his head a little and he asks Steve out with the full intention of getting into his pants and never seeing him again.

But oh no, would you look at that Steve isn't easy. And what Eddie thought would be a booty call ends up being a ten hour date around the city where he has more fun than he even thought was possible. Just from talking with Steve about anything and everything, flitting to parks and museums. And Eddie doesn't even realize until he's back at his hotel that they didn't even kiss.

And they go out more and more, and Eddie likes him more and more and he finds out where the rich people hate comes from. And it scares him. So he keeps lying. Like an idiot. And he tells Steve a fake last name, he tells him a fake job (which is only half fake because he did used to be a tattoo artist) and he rents an air bnb that he pretends is his own place. And the lies keep getting more elaborate to cover up more lies. And he keeps refusing to meet Steve's friends out of fear that they'll recognize him. And he really just drove himself into a corner here because he is absolutely in love with Steve at this point but how the fuck can you have a normal relationship when you are pretending to be someone else?

Turns out you can't, and Steve finds out the truth despite his efforts. But the twist is, he thinks it's fucking hilarious. After a normal period of What the fuck reaction time he gets over it. But never let's Eddie live it down.

------------------------------

6/27 Edit: Welp, now there's a fic.

Two fics actually. The other is by KikiZ on ao3 which is great if you're not looking for an explicit fic! Because mine will be. It's also a bit more introspective than what I got going on, and also thus far, hella romantic.

[bloodlust-1]

.·:*¨ Night Affairs ¨*:·.

Astarion x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: Oops! Tav accidentally ate a mushroom that causes her to completely lose her mind. Astarion finds her in this state and enjoy each other’s company, A little too much.

T/W: smut!

Notes: this is Pre- Astarion telling Tav his feelings for her. Also, this takes place in the under dark! Happy reading~

Tav’s body felt a subtle change that began to take hold on her. At first, she felt a gentle warmth spreading through her veins, accompanied by a tingling sensation that danced across her skin. Colors seemed to intensify, becoming more vivid and vibrant with every passing moment. Gods, she was feeling the consequences of mistaking a mushroom for something safely edible. Damn it, these mushrooms in the under dark are all confusing to her. How was she supposed to know it’d make her delusional?

It was already time for everyone to settle in their tents. Tav would have been trying to catch some Z’s like everyone else, but As time passed, Tav’s perception of reality became distorted. The world around her transformed into a kaleidoscope of swirling patterns and shifting shapes. Sounds became amplified, echoing through her ears with an otherworldly clarity. Her senses were heightened to an extraordinary degree.

She wondered outside her tent, away from the camp unknowingly, and stumbled her way around the underdark. It was beautiful with its luminous plants of all kinds. Tav’s thoughts took on a dreamlike quality as her mind wandered through uncharted territories. She experienced a profound sense of euphoria and introspection, as if she had been granted access to hidden realms of consciousness. Time lost its meaning as minutes stretched into hours and hours into what felt like an eternity.

From a short distance sat Astarion, admiring the access he had to life again. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the adventure away from home no matter how much he missed Baldurs Gate. He was in deep thought about his situation until he heard dragging noises. He reached for his knife as he saw Tav, clumsily dragging her feet around. Her eyes were widened, almost sparkling from reflections from all the glow of the mushrooms. There was definitely something off about her.

Tav's eyes caught Astarion, by his lonesome in deep thought. She noticed his odd stare at her, "Oooh, Astarion! My favorite person in camp. Isn't it soOooOoo beautiful tonight?" She drunkenly plopped her body onto the ground, now sitting next to him.

Astarion's eyebrows crocked, and he noticed her pupils were dilated. "Oh dear, I see what's going on here. What did you eat?"

In this altered state, Tav's emotions fluctuated wildly. Waves of laughter washed over her as she found humor in the simplest things. Tears welled up in her eyes, not from sadness but from an overwhelming sense of beauty and interconnectedness with the world around her. "I didn't knoooow, please don't be mad at me. I just want to see the pretty plants tonight." Tav wiped away her unjustified tears, her mind was going insane. She could only cling to what little hold she had on reality.

Astarion tilted his head and stared at her. He was unable to take his eyes off her, often staring directly into her eyes or admiring her physical features. He adjusted his posture to face her. Admittingly, Astarion was already catching feelings for Tav the night they indulged in each other's bodies. It was just a part of his plan to manipulate her, something he knew how to do all too well. He just didn't expect to enjoy himself more than usual. It actually felt— good?

Astarion cleared his throat, "You must be losing your fucking mind. I bet anything we talk about now you won't even remember by tomorrow."

Tav slouched her head on his shoulder, her body twitching every so often, "I reaallyy don't want this to end. I lovE traveling w-with you guys, so much fun. I'm scared to go back home..." She spoke with slurs and all kinds of messiness. However, due to the fault of the mushroom she ate, the truth comes spilling out of her mouth uncontrollably.

Astarion perked up, "Scared? Darling what in the hells do you have to be scared of?" It wasn't like she had Cazador hovering over her shoulder. She couldn't possibly feel what he felt.

Tav's face ingrained with sadness. She clutched her trembling hands together, trying to steady herself. The fear that gripped her was suffocating, threatening to consume her entirely and the high didn't help her cope either. Home for her was anywhere but home. She wanted to run as far away as possible from this place that held nothing but darkness for her. "It's hard t-to talk about...You know that feeling that power someone has over you. It's hard to escape something that happened for soooo loonnngg." She rubbed her wide tired eyes. The area around her started to feel like it was melting with colors.

Astarion furrowed his brows, oddly, yes, he knew that feeling. But why did she know that feeling, "I do. But why—“

Tav cut Astarion off quickly, "I LOVE making bread. I have a hidden talent for it...Although now it isn't a secret anymore, so now you know." Tav cracked up a laugh, the little random bursts of confessions entertained her. It was hilarious to her. For no reason of course other than the mushroom effect.

"Uhh, right..." Astarion chuckled softly. She's ridiculous. It's actually entertaining to him how obliviously out of her mind she was. This was great blackmail fuel, or perhaps something he could poke fun at her for.

"Y-you are my favorite camp friend." She smiled goofily.

"Friend? What about our late-night tryst, Did you not enjoy yourself?" Astarion felt offended at her comment. Favorite, sure, but friend? This 'friend' comment did not fit into his plans. Although, lately he has been catching himself smiling at Tav more. He started to notice himself staring at her longer, maybe even lustfully? His heart raced whenever she got close to him, this was unfamiliar territory for Astarion. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "Would it make you happy to try again?"

"Oh! Yes, yes. Something in me tells me that'd make me very happy. But hold on! You dont reallyyy mean that do you?" Tav leaned away from him, and crossed her arms doubtfully.

"I— actually don't know. It doesn't really matter what I say now, you'll wake up tomorrow with not a zero clue." His mind wondered. Even if he confessed maybe having feelings for her, she would be oblivious. But it could also be a good moment to test the waters. If Astarion got a bad reaction from Tav, she'd forget all about it the next day. This could be an advantage for him.

"What if I told you you're incredible? That my plan to easily course you didn't work. That my master plan fell apart and every little thing we did together felt— meaningful…That in the midst of this mess I actually find myself caring for you?" He softly pushes away a strand of hair that swayed over Tav's face. His heart started to race to see her reaction.

To his surprise, Tav fell quiet and stared up at him. Her face flushed red and her eyes went a little watery. "You do..?" She spoke softly. Her breathing became heavy. Tav went and wrapped her arms around him in a warm and comforting embrace. The world around them seemed to fade away as they held each other tightly.

At that moment, all of Astarion's doubts melted away as he felt genuine affection and acceptance from Tav. He couldn’t believe that she reciprocated his feelings, and it filled him with an overwhelming sense of joy and relief. As they sat there embracing each other, time seemed to stand still.

The hug spoke volumes without the need for words. It conveyed a deep connection between them, finally acknowledging their feelings for each other. It was a moment of vulnerability and trust, where they could let down their guards and allow themselves to be open to the possibility of love. After all, Tav was Astarion's first consensual sex affair where he didn't worry about Cazador. He could not ever imagine taking her to him. She actually made Astarion feel love. This made him only want to protect her from any harm.

"I promise I'll make this sound better when you're not out of your damn mind." Astarion held her close. It was such a refreshing feeling to love someone instead of loathing someone. He felt the heat of his cheeks flush, and Tav tugged on his sleeve.

"C-Can I kiss you, Astarion?" The way she looked at him with those eyes of hers. Big, full of lust. He saw this same look the night they had sex.

He chuckled cockily, "You couldn't help yourself? I would like that." No one ever asked for his permission, it was admired greatly by him. His lips covered hers in a swift motion, and a soft smooch was placed on her lower lip. Her skin was so warm compared to his, and it only made him yearn more for that warmth.

There they were, in an atmosphere lushed with glowing plants as they held each other tightly in its nature. They kissed each other until it got sloppy, their breaths going in haste. Astarion pushed his body over hers, forcing her back onto the soft moss.

Astarion gazed down at Tav. It took him back to that night, how beautiful she looked under the moonlight, and how beautiful she still looked now. He felt lucky to have met such a beauty, she had a charm he only saw from royalty. The kind that has people swooning over her hand, begging to make her their beloved. Not many people could say they bestowed these kinds of looks.

"Astarion?" a whisper left her lips, cutely yet— begging. Her eyes averted from his and she felt her body tense. No mushroom could mask her lust for Astarion's touch, it was written all over her face. Her little trembles of excitement gave it away.

"Just say the words, love. You know I can give you all the pleasures, Your wish is my command." His hands traveled up and down her thigh, caressing her skin tenderly.

Tav nodded as a shiver ran up her spine from his touch. She spoke with a soft tone, one that begged for him tenderly, "I need your touch."

"As do I." He hovered over her small stature, placing his lips gently on hers. A soft kiss it was. It was different from their last kiss because that one was just lust. This kiss had a heart in it, so naturally it felt so much better. Especially when the warmth of her blood heated his cold lips.

Astarion shut his eyes tightly, and a tingle ran up his spine. The passion from the kiss scrambled his mind because why did love feel this good? Love never felt good. Cazador claimed all of his spawns were a family, something to love. That was no love. But Tav, however, felt completely different. Even regular sex felt amazing, which was also just bland for him.

Astarion kissed her lips until they couldn't no more. Both gasped for air as their adrenaline ran threw their bodies. Astarion's shaft pushed hard into the seam of his pants, and it poked her inner thigh. He then adjusted himself so that he wasn't poking at Tav anymore.

"I want to save that for later, my dear. A day when you can wake up and remember it. So you can come to me in the morning with flushed cheeks and a racing heart." Astarion didn't want to sour a moment where he could make love and not just have sex. He'd rather wait for Tav to be completely aware of herself.

Tav nodded in agreement. Her body felt like she was floating on a cloud. Her high still clouded her mind, and her body still yearned for him. "Could you suppose still spoil me...?"

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Cheeky aren't we?" His hand raced down her curves, exploring the warmth of her skin, "I suppose I can, pet." Without a thought, Astarion swiftly tugged down Tav's pants. He pulled her legs apart so that her core was to full access to him.

His lips planted kisses all over her neck. The heat of his rough breaths hit Tav's skin, causing her goosebumps to crawl all over. All the while Astarion's hand was caressing over her folds. His fingers moistened as it stroked over her slit. Tav let out small moans as his fingers rubbed her clit. His motions were skilled, almost like a second nature to him.

“M-mphh…” Tav clutched onto the cloth of his shirt. His kisses grazed over her neck tenderly, and he nibbled on the lobe of her ear, “How does that feel?” He spoke in a breathy tone.

“Amazing.” She purred. Her legs twitched from Astarion’s touch. She became sensitive and more wet as he circled around her clit. He seemed pleased with the performance Tav was giving, the moans were a validation for him. But he wanted feel more of her.

With two fingers, he slipped it into her entrance. Tav gasped out of pleasure, the feeling was all too much and she spreader her legs more for him. He bucked his hand in and out of her. The warmth of her walls encased around his fingers, begging for more.

Tav cupped Astarion’s face, pulling him into a kiss that was muffled between her moans. His tongue danced with hers, a sweet taste he’s been thinking about the day they first kissed. Her back arched for him more, and it was granted, a third finger slipped into her and she pulled away from the kiss. A pleasurable wince left her lips and Astarion looked at her with red piercing eyes. He enjoyed watching her crumble under him. It made him feel powerful.

Tav’s head hung back as moans and groans left her mouth like a lyric to a song only Astarion could produce. Her wet core made it easier for him to fuck her with his fingers fast and swiftly. His arm burned as it continuously fucked her, he didn’t break his motion while beads of sweat formed on his temples.

Astarion suddenly lowered his head, he kept his fingers in her, and now his tongue was over her clit. His saliva trailed down between her inner thighs as her moans grew more intense. Her hand gripped a chunk of his hair, forcing his face closer into her core.

His tongue played with her clit, rubbing it in circles as his fingers thrusted in and out of her. An intensity swelled in her lower stomach, she gripped Astarion hair tighter as her finish comes to a near.

“F-fuck! Ahh— S-starion..” her back arched more and more against his face, like a two magnets attracting each other. His steamy breath huffed against her sex, awarding him with more groans. It was absolute bliss for Astarion. It was his first time spoiling someone like this. It felt so intimate and so passionate. If this is what sex felt like with a lover, he wanted to do it over and over again.

Tav yelled out a final moan of pleasure before releasing onto Astarion’s face. His tongue dragged along her folds, licking up any wetness he could as if he was drinking blood. He kissed her moistened core, he then picked up his head from between her legs.

Astarion used the back of his hand to wipe the cum off his mouth, his eye contact was like daggers. “Mmm…That taste of yours. It’s amazing.” He wrapped his fingers around the band of her pants, and pulled them up. Cleaning her up was a love language for him. To destroy someone sexually and then cleaning up the mess he caused, it was so liberating. Especially since it was Tav.

Tav sat up, her skin moistened red on her cheeks, “you’re too good at that. Do it again.” Tav teased him. She liked to have fun with Astarion even at the most tense of times.

“Cheeky pup. You might get tired of me if I keep spoiling you like this, however I couldn’t imagine ever getting bored of that taste of yours. You’re magnificent.” His finger stroked the side of her face softly. “Shall we get some rest? You’ll be needing it tomorrow when you’re sore.”

💤

The next morning Tav woke up with an aching head and also…a soreness between her legs? She brushed off the feeling and greeted her fellow camp members. Gods was she never touching another mushroom ever again. She pretty much went blank but she remembered a faint memory of Astarion face. But, she couldn’t tell if it was a wet dream or not.

She yawned and went to stroll around the camp to chat. When she made her rounds to Astarion he flashed her a welcoming smile, waaay nicer than he usually was, “Well look who we have here. How’d you sleep my dear?”

Tav pleasantly nodded her head to his kind words. “It was strange…but much needed. How did you sleep?”

“Wonderful. I wanted to say thank you for last night. It was…an experience I won’t forget.” He clicked his tongue softly. His face was smug and he walked away from Tav, who fell silent.

Her heart dropped in her chest and it all clicked together. The soreness, the stickiness she felt in her pants, and Astarion being extra nice. A moment she had alone with him and she could barely remember what was said. Tav was mentally cursing herself in her head. She was very fond of him and honestly, she wanted to figure out their dynamic. Only Astarion could tell the tale of their late night affair, but for now, Tav wondered all about her wet dream. Or so she thought.

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage !

[messiahzzz]

as much as i dislike the dialogue option that leads to this scene, i genuinely appreciate gale's response. it is easy to overlook what he is actually trying to convey here and is instead commonly dismissed as him being "overdramatic" or as a display of his bruised ego.

player: it was fine. gale: i see. gale: well, fine is... fine. nobody weeps because the weather is fine. no monarchs were overthrown because their ruling was fine. no artworks were burned because they were not masterpieces, but merely fine. player: would you have rather i lied? gale: the dignified thing for me to say is 'no. of course not. forthrightness before all.' but honestly? yes... i would have rather you lied. gale: i'm just a man. an imperfect one, with needs, wants, and flaws by the bushel. a fragile vessel in which to place potentially world-ending power. gale: perhaps it would be better to not shake such a vessel. gale: forgive me. these were already trying times before elminster delivered his missive. now, for me at least, they are potentially end times.

gale is no stranger to introspection. despite having his natural blindspots, he is fully aware of his flaws and imperfections. he lacks an inherent sense of self-preservation, displays impatience on occasion, can be hypocritical, has trouble handling pointed criticism well, and has a tendency to respond in passive aggression if he feels his competence is brought into question. he seeks admiration and is known to not honor his limitations and own safety for the sake of receiving praise.

gale: [...] people have always commented on my confidence, sometimes my over-confidence, and in one particularly cut throat assessment at university - my 'abject and incorrigible self-delusion.'

gale is not blind to how he is perceived by others, nor does he dismiss their conclusions without careful consideration. instead of deflecting he simply takes what they dish out and files it away for later contemplation and inspection.

player: because you acted the idiot. and paid the price for it too. gale: as always, i endeavor to be invigorated by your candour, rather than eviscerated by it. gale: blunt as your summation is - it's correct. i dared to call myself an archmage while acting the apprentice. the hallmarks of a most excellent idiot, unfortunately.

player: i can't say i share the same high opinion of you, gale. gale: always bringing such candour to our conversations. some would think twice about mocking gale of waterdeep, but you just go straight for the gut. nodecontext: playing along, making fun of himself gale: i like that about you. it's one of your rarer qualities, though i fear my ego can take no more of it tonight. nodecontext: cheerfully accepting the brush off, not taking it personally

needs, wants, and flaws by the bushel.

gale craves as mortals do. for relevance, safety, consideration, loyalty, care, acceptance, and love. he's desperate, he's angry, he's petty and hurt and lonely. he's contradictory, and at times inconsistent. he's afraid, he stumbles, he yearns. if he loves, he does so with all his heart but forgets to extend the same love to himself. he gains understanding only to disregard it later. he is absorbed yet devoted. he expects kindness but is bewildered when it is extended to him in turn. he's neither a perfect colleague, a perfect companion, a perfect lover, nor a perfect husband. he's just another human who's trying to navigate and make sense of the world. who is silently hoping for his soul to be handled with tenderness and care, to finally be seen for who he is —no need for performance or pretense — and to be unconditionally cherished nonetheless.

a fragile vessel in which to place potentially world-ending power.

he knows the burden he carries. understanding that even a momentary lapse in judgment could spell catastrophe if he doesn't exert tight control over his emotions at all times. he knows what is at stake should he lose the composure he painstakingly had to master. a mere moment is all it takes. this self-assessment isn't an "indirect threat" intended to subject pressure on tav or solicit pity, it's a stark acknowledgment of the truth. he is a fragile human, housing powers that should've never been his in the first place.

player: unbelievable. did you ever think what would happen if the tadpole got the better of you? gale: every waking moment. every dreaming moment too. but there was no way out.

he is also keenly aware of how his (former) colleagues perceive him, following his fall from grace.

player: bold. few would dare to reduce a goddess to their 'muse.' gale: i am, after all, the villain of the tale.

this line in particular is one i often think about. it makes me wonder about the extent of information gale received from the outside world after locking himself in his tower for an entire year, setting magical wards so no one but tara would be able to enter. did he hear the whispers? ("shunned by the goddess of magic herself, of course, it was only a matter of time before he flew too close to the sun.") were his colleagues ridiculing him, applauding mystra for cutting off the rot at the source? how did he arrive at the assumption that he is perceived as "the villain" and not the victim?

player: you must have been lonely, with only tara for company.. gale: sometimes. but i imposed it upon myself, after all. i set up enough wards to keep an army at bay, never mind the few colleagues who sought to inquire about my welfare.

or is this solely his own harsh judgment of his folly? that there is no chance anyone would meet him with sympathy, kindness and understanding after what he had wrought. he was too greedy, too impatient — selfish in arrogance, ravenous in ambition. letting delusions of grandeur guide him. he brought it all upon himself with his lack of patience. entirely convinced of his success and skill, blind to the possibility of failure. now doomed to drag innocents into the abyss with him. the hallmarks of a villain, right? after all, who would truly believe him that his ambition hid no ill will?

players: by rights. i should kill you. gale: perhaps that is what i deserve, but you deserve no such thing. [...]

[natsgrave]

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE KNOWN | wanda maximoff

i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you. i don't wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you. i've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night, and now i see daylight, i only see daylight. i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime! masterlist whispers of heartache m.list

AU

In the heart of a bustling city, amidst the clamor of everyday life, there was a small bookstore called "Whispering Pages." This quaint shop, with its creaky wooden floors and shelves overflowing with books, was a sanctuary for those seeking solace and understanding in the pages of stories. It was here that two souls, Y/N and Wanda, found each other and began a journey that would teach them the true meaning of love.

Wanda was a quiet, introspective woman with a penchant for losing herself in the worlds crafted by her favorite authors. Her days were spent managing the bookstore, and her nights were filled with the comfort of a good book. She was content in her solitude, finding companionship in the characters and stories she cherished.

Y/N, on the other hand, was a vibrant, outgoing woman with a zest for life that was contagious. A journalist by profession, she was always on the move, chasing stories and capturing moments. Despite her busy lifestyle, she had a deep appreciation for literature and often found herself wandering into "Whispering Pages" to escape the chaos of the outside world.

One rainy afternoon, as Wanda was engrossed in organizing a new shipment of books, Y/N entered the store, shaking off the droplets of rain from her coat. She walked to the counter, where Wanda was carefully arranging a display of classic novels.

"Excuse me," Y/N said, her voice warm and friendly. "Do you have any recommendations for a good read on a rainy day?"

Wanda looked up, momentarily startled by the sudden interruption. She saw a woman with kind eyes and an inviting smile, and despite her usual reserved nature, she found herself wanting to engage.

"Well," she began, her voice soft but steady, "it depends on what you're in the mood for. Do you have a particular genre in mind?"

Y/N leaned against the counter, considering her question. "I think I'm in the mood for something introspective, something that makes you reflect on life and love."

A smile tugged at the corners of Wanda's lips. "I think I have just the thing." She walked over to a nearby shelf, selecting a book with a worn cover and handing it to Y/N. "This is one of my favorites. It's a beautiful exploration of what it means to truly know and be known by another person."

Y/N took the book from her, their fingers brushing briefly. She glanced at the title and nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Wanda. This looks perfect."

Over the following months, Y/N became a regular visitor to the bookstore. Each visit brought with it a new conversation, a deeper connection. They discussed books, life, and their own hopes and dreams. Wanda found herself opening up to Y/N in a way she had never done with anyone before, and Y/N, in turn, shared parts of herself that she usually kept hidden.

One evening, as the sun began to set and the bookstore was bathed in a golden glow, Y/N approached Wanda with a sense of purpose. "Wanda, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Wanda hesitated for a moment, her heart racing. She had grown accustomed to their conversations, to the way Y/N made her feel seen and understood.

She nodded, a shy smile spreading across her face. "I'd like that very much."

They walked to a nearby café, their conversation flowing as naturally as the evening breeze. As they sat across from each other, Y/N reached for Wanda's hand. "You know, Wanda, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to love someone. I used to believe that love was about grand gestures and passionate declarations, but you've shown me that it's about something much deeper."

Wanda squeezed her hand gently, her eyes meeting Y/N's. "What do you mean?"

"To love someone is to truly know them," Y/N said softly. "It's about understanding their fears, their dreams, their quirks. It's about seeing them for who they really are and accepting them wholeheartedly. And Wanda, you've made me realize that I've never known anyone the way I know you." She added, "You have a way of speaking that is uniquely on your own, a melody that dances in the air and lingers long after the words have faded. Your voice, soft and melodious, carries a warmth that can soothe even the most troubled soul. When you speaks, it's as if each word is carefully chosen, imbued with meaning and intention. Whether you're sharing a grand idea or simply recounting on your day, there's a sincerity in your tone that draws me in." Y/N started. "Your laughter is like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds on a gloomy day. It's infectious, a sound that bubbles up from deep within you and spills out in a cascade of joy. I love the way your eyes light up when you laughs, how they crinkle at the corners and sparkle with mirth. It's in those moments, when you're lost in laughter, that I see the purest, most unguarded version of you—a sight that never fails to make my heart swell with affection."

Tears welled up in Wanda's eyes as she listened to Y/N's words.

"One of the things I adore most about you, Wanda, is your kindness. It's not always in grand gestures, though you're certainly capable of those, but in the little things you do every day. I've seen you comfort a stranger who looked lost, offer a smile to someone who seemed down, and take the time to listen to a friend in need. Your empathy knows no bounds, and it's in these small acts of kindness that your true beauty shines." Y/N continued to ramble, "You also have this habit of tucking your hair behind your ear when you're deep in thought, a gesture so simple yet so endearing. I've watched you do it countless times, each instance a reminder of how intimately familiar I've become with your little quirks. And when you're excited about something, your whole face lights up." She stopped for a moment before gazing at Wanda's eyes, "But perhaps what I love most about you is your unwavering authenticity. You are unapologetically yourself, never trying to be anything other than who you are. It's a rare and precious quality, one that draws people and makes them feel comfortable in your presence. You have a way of making the people around you feel seen and valued, of creating a space where we can be our true self without fear of judgment."

"Y/N, I've always been afraid of letting people in, of being truly known. But with you, it feels different. It feels right." Wanda stated, tears in her eyes.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. "Wanda, you are the most incredible person I've ever met. And I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know you even better, loving you for all that you are."

It's the small things, the details that might go unnoticed by others, that have woven Wanda into the fabric of Y/N's love for her. She is the embodiment of everything Y/N cherish, a constant source of joy and inspiration. To love Wanda is to know her, truly and deeply, and Y/N count herself incredibly fortunate to share this journey with Wanda.

Years passed, and "Whispering Pages" became more than just a bookstore; it became a testament to their love. Wanda and Y/N built a life together, filled with the understanding and acceptance that comes from truly knowing and being known by another person.

In every glance, every touch, every word, Y/N find new reasons to fall in love with Wanda all over again. She is her muse, her confidante, her greatest adventure. And as long as there are new things to discover about Wanda, Y/N know that her love for Wanda will only continue to grow, blossoming like the flowers she so adores, forever and always.

In the end, they realized that love wasn't about perfection or always having the right words. It was about being present, listening, and cherishing each other's hearts. And as they stood together, surrounded by the books that had brought them together, they knew that their love was a story worth telling, one that would endure for generations to come.

[todorokis-girl]

All on up Stream - Kenma Kosume

Part of my Haikyuu confession series!

Masterlist

Kenma's fingers moved with practiced ease across the keyboard, navigating his character through the intricate virtual world of his latest streaming session. The soft glow of his monitor illuminated his focused expression, a stark contrast to the chaos of the chat scrolling endlessly beside the gameplay footage. His audience was lively tonight, sending a constant stream of comments and questions that he occasionally glanced at between intense moments in the game.

Amidst the flurry of interactions, a familiar username caught his eye: "LoveStruckFan123". A donation accompanied the message: "Hey Kenma, do you have a special someone in your life? 😏"

Kenma's cheeks flushed faintly, his fingers momentarily faltering on the keys. He wasn't used to such direct inquiries about his personal life during streams. He chuckled nervously, trying to deflect the question while keeping his composure. "Uh, well, that's a pretty personal question," he muttered, refocusing on the game to distract himself.

But the chat was relentless, and more curious comments flooded in, pushing him to address the topic. "Okay, okay, I'll answer. But just this once," he relented with a soft sigh, his voice barely audible over the game's soundtrack.

"There's... someone I've liked for a really long time," Kenma admitted, his tone softening with introspection. He glanced briefly at the chat, seeing the flood of emoticons and excited messages. "Since we were kids, actually."

The chat exploded with curiosity and excitement, words scrolling so quickly that Kenma struggled to keep up. Despite his initial discomfort, he found himself smiling faintly as he thought about Y/N. They had been a constant presence in his life, a source of comfort and understanding that went beyond mere friendship.

"They've always been there for me, you know?" Kenma continued, his voice growing more contemplative. "Through everything. They're amazing, and I've... I've been in love with y/n the entire time"

The confession hung in the air, the weight of his words sinking in as he realized what he had just revealed to thousands of viewers.

The before the realization settled he saw the screen of his phone light up, notifications had been muted for stream. ‘Y/n 🥰’ the only thing he could see. When the screen when dark, it happened again, and one last time.

Panic surged through him like an electric shock, and he instinctively reached for the mouse, fingers trembling as he struggled to regain control of the situation.

"Uh, I—I think that's enough for today," Kenma muttered hurriedly, his voice betraying his anxiety. "Thanks for watching, everyone. See you next time."

With a quick, frantic click, he ended the stream, the screen fading to black. Kenma slumped back in his chair, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared blankly at the now-dark monitor. He couldn't believe he had let slip such a personal revelation in such a public forum.

Moments later, his phone buzzed yet again with a notification. He glanced down, feeling a jolt of nerves as he saw a message from Y/N.

‘Ken’

‘Ken, are you serious?’

‘Ken’

‘Please… can we talk…?’

He swallowed hard, his fingers hovering over the screen before typing a shaky reply. "Sure. When?"

‘Now… 5 minutes’

A few minutes later, Kenma found himself standing outside in the cool evening air, his thoughts racing faster than his footsteps could carry him. When Y/N arrived, their presence was a grounding force amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Kenma," Y/N began softly, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity as they stepped closer. "Did you really mean what you said? Was it an accident?”

He nodded slowly, unable to meet their gaze at first. "Yeah. I did, it was an accident, yeah, but I mean it.” he admitted quietly, a mix of embarrassment and relief coloring his tone. "I'm sorry you had to find out like that."

To his surprise, the reaction he got was not the one he expected. He felt her warmth all over his body and he could feel her lips against his neck, pulling herself even closer to him, tightening the hug. “Me too dummy”

Kenma's breath caught in his throat, disbelief mingling with a joy so profound it left him momentarily speechless. He wrapped his hands around her, and angled himself to attempt and make eye contact, you allowed her pulling her face away, meeting Y/N's eyes, seeing the sincerity and affection reflected back at him.

"Really?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Really," Y/N confirmed with a nod,

Lacking restraint he grabbed both sides of her face and stared into her eyes, giving her a second to pull away if she needed; when she didn’t, he pulled her closer crashing his lips into hers; years of love present in the interaction, escaping through every nook and cranny of their souls as if a flood had opened.

As they stood together under the fading light of the evening sky, Kenma felt a weight lift off his shoulders. This unexpected turn of events had brought them closer together in a way he hadn't dared to hope for. It was the ending of their friendship, but the start of their future.