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x-forget-me-not-x · 3 days ago

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Lonely Heart

Chapter Two

Story summary: After the Dateables have been realized, the reader finds themselves alone with their festering thoughts.

Chapter summary: The reader decides that keeping themselves busy might help keep the darker thoughts at bay. They're wrong.

Trigger warning: the reader has mental health issues and is questioning their self-worth. They have many, many self-depreciating thoughts.

In this chapter, they also experience self harm (both past and present), moments of suicidal ideation, and panic attacks.

Please read with caution.

The room is dark by the time you start to wake up, eyes bleary and stinging, your head throbbing. It takes a moment or two to piece together why: the curtains are still closed. Curt and Rod usually open as soon as it’s morning, waking you up in the process every day. They’re probably doing this to throw shade at you for oversleeping. You just hope you didn’t drool or snore too loud. Last thing you need to do is to give them any extra ammunition.

You sit up, rubbing the crust from your eyes, when it all comes flooding back. Objects turned human. An empty house. The crushing weight of it all. Your stomach churns at the sudden emotional onslaught, or is it because you didn’t eat dinner last night? Glancing at the clock, you realize it’s well into the afternoon. Guess you missed breakfast, too. You tell yourself that’s the only reason why you feel so shaky as you stand and head towards the bathroom. You could really go for a nice relaxing bath right about now.

When you step into the bathroom, you freeze at the sight of your own reflection. Your skin is pallid, face shiny with sweat and grease. The dark circles under your eyes have somehow gotten worse, even though you had finally managed to sleep through the night. Though, you’d be lying if you said that you slept peacefully. Your back is sore from lying stiff as a board all night. You’re not sure if that’s any better or worse than tossing and turning.

You bring trembling fingers to your cheek, watching yourself poke and prod at your face. Even Amir, for all his flattery, would be rendered speechless if he saw you like this. And is it just your imagination, or does your face look a bit thin, sunken in? Surely not. You couldn’t have let yourself go that badly, could you?

How pathetic.

You let your hand drop and stare into your own eyes for a moment. You feel like you’re searching for something, anything, some clue or answer to the howling pit inside your chest. Instead, all you see is your own tired reflection, its vacant eyes staring back at you. You flee the room before you can give into the desire to shatter the mirror into a million pieces. You’d rather take a shower, anyway. It’s more relaxing than a bath.

While in the shower, however, relaxation doesn’t come. Instead, frustration and annoyance starts to creep in, and you begin scrubbing furiously at your skin. It is pathetic that you let yourself get so out of sorts. You can’t just let yourself slip like that. You should know better than to let yourself get like this. You do know better. The hot water makes your raw skin sting, but you don’t stop.

It’s what you deserve.

By the time you step out of the shower and into the steam-filled bathroom, your whole body is irritated and tender, skin throbbing as you dry off, but you can’t bring yourself to care. The frantic beat of your heart has started to slow, but the tension lingers. There’s a sudden urge to pick at your skin that makes your fingers twitch.

You pause in toweling off when you get to your thighs. On each of them are a dozen faded scars, left behind by a similar pain years prior. You trace the raised lines with your nail. Lightly at first, but gradually digging in until blood blossoms under the skin. You know you should stop, you know you should, but you repeat the process with every line, until the scars are as inflamed as the rest of your aching skin, spots of blood freckling your thighs. Only then do you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a sense of relief washing over you like a wave.

However, that temporary high only manages to last through you getting dressed and making your way into the kitchen, the sickening heat of shame flooding you suddenly. How could you be so stupid? You know better. You hadn’t relapsed in years and here you are: toes hanging over the edge, ready to jump back into the hole you clawed yourself out of. It doesn’t matter if this time you didn’t actually bring a blade to your skin.

There’s always next time. Maybe next time, it’ll finally stick.

You feel like you’re going to be sick. No, you are better than this! You have to be. You aren’t that needy little crybaby anymore. You aren’t going back down that path ever again. You refuse. You’re going to make it through this. You have to. You can’t let everyone down, not now.

“Let them down?” Would they even care? You haven’t seen them in weeks. How long would it even take for someone to realize that you’re gone?

You swallow hard, the taste of stomach acid burning the back of your throat. No, you aren’t going to think about that. You refuse. You square your shoulders, pushing against the raging storm. You can do this. You’ve done it before. You know that if you keep yourself busy, you can keep your mind busy. You just need a distraction.

“I’m going to be fine,” You repeat this thought over and over until the roar fades into the back of your mind, for now at least. You sigh, slumping against the counter top in relief. You can do this. You will do this.

Now, time for a distraction!

Your stomach growls so loud, you could swear the sound echoes.

Okay, food first, then distraction.

Feeling a little better with a game plan, you set about making yourself a bowl of cereal. It’s hardly the healthiest breakfast- or rather lunch- but it’s something. You can almost picture Mitchell wrinkling his nose at the sight of your meal. Maybe next time, you’ll make something a little closer to his high standards.

As you eat, you think about what you could do to keep yourself busy. There are a few different chores around the house that need doing: vacuuming, dusting, laundry, but each of those tasks have bittersweet memories attached. It’s hard to interact with pretty much anything around the house without thinking about the person that used to inhabit it. So, you know that you’ll need to do those chores eventually, but there’s got to be something else you can do in the meantime.

You could always leave the house. Now, there’s a wild concept. It wasn’t all that long ago that you were confined to your home, out of fear that Valdivian data drones would come swooping in to steal Skylar. Or rather the Dateviators. But that wasn’t really a problem anymore, though you still struggled to get out much. Even the idea of the outside world feels overwhelming. So, yes, you could go run errands, grab some groceries or something, but you don’t really feel up to it. Maybe some yard work, instead? A sort of happy medium?

You carry your bowl with you to the living room and peek out the window at the large tree in your front yard. It’s been a while since you’ve trimmed it, way before the Dateviators arrived, and several of the branches look dead. That could work. The ladder is in the attic and the hedge trimmers are out in the garage, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. With a nod, you down the rest of your cereal and hurry upstairs.

The attic, while looking better than it had months ago, is still a dimly lit and unsettling room, full of cobwebs in the corners and the lingering memories of those long gone. Thankfully, the ladder is easy enough to get to, propped up in the corner. With a grunt, you lift it and almost immediately lose your grip, dropping it with a loud clang. Your vision swims and cold pinpricks crawl like goosebumps along your face. You have to brace yourself against the wall to fight the sudden wave of dizziness, waiting for your equilibrium to steady.

“What the hell was that?” you think, staring at the ladder like it holds the answers. Maybe you have let yourself go. It was more than a little unnerving that you’ve gotten so weak over just a couple of months.

It’s not like you’ve been eating or sleeping worth a damn. What do you expect?

You push yourself off the wall, crouching down to lift the ladder again. And, again, you feel lightheaded as you stand and shuffle towards the door. Still, you keep your grip tight on the metal, pausing to peer down the stairs, the bottom looking so very far away. Shifting the weight, you brace the ladder against your right shoulder and your left hip against the handrail. The last thing you need is a broken neck. You just need to take it one step at a time.

One

step

Your foot misses, your heel landing on the edge of the step instead and slipping. Your back slams hard into the wood, the sharp edges of the stairs digging in, and you start sliding downstairs, fast. The hand that doesn’t have a white-knuckle grip on the ladder shoots out blindly to grab a spindle. The wood groans in protest, splintering near the top. There’s a loud pop in your wrist as you pull against gravity, twisting your body sideways and slowing your descent to a stop.

You lie there, a tangle of bruised limbs, catching your breath. The ladder is sitting heavy atop of your sore chest, but at least you didn’t completely fall down the stairs. Only… part of the way. Got to look at the bright side, right?

Idiot.

The pain from your wrist radiates up your arm and it shakes with the effort needed to push the ladder off. You lose your grip instantly and cringe at the sound of the ladder falling the last few steps, clattering to the floor. Oh, well. At least you don’t have to carry it down the stairs anymore.

Cradling your injured arm to your chest, you scoot down the rest of the stairs on your butt, not trusting yourself to stand just yet. The ladder left a big ding in the floor on its way down. You briefly wonder if that would’ve acted like a scar or injury on Florence, had she still been the floor. You graze it with shaky fingers, once again wondering what she and everyone else is up to. This whole thing with the ladder brings back memories of fixing up the Breaker Box with Eddie.

Except, this time, there was no one here to catch you.

No, no, there wasn’t. But that’s fine. It is. You’re used to it. You know how to do chores without someone else’s help. You’ve been doing it for years. Your throbbing wrist and bruised back tells a different story, one you blatantly ignore as you stand.

Your arm protests painfully when you lift the ladder again and carry it outside to set it up at the base of the tree. You promise yourself that you’ll ice it after you’re done working, knowing that Farya would flip her lid if she knew. She’d probably think that you tore a ligament or worse, suggesting something extreme like possible amputation.

Would she? Would she even care, now that she has real patients?

The inside of your garage is cluttered and covered in a thick layer of dust. You haven’t been out here since the Dateviators arrived, since there’s no way to get to it from inside the house. You try not to think about whether or not any of these objects would’ve also come to life with the help of the glasses; you already have enough on your plate as it is. Thankfully, the hedge trimmer is close to the door, so you grab it and hurry back outside before that thought can linger.

It’s late afternoon by the time you get to work, carefully balancing on the ladder with the heavy shears. You’re grateful for the cool wind that chills your skin, and even more grateful that none of your neighbors are out, because you’ve definitely worked up a sweat. Was tree trimming always this strenuous?

Your wrist twinges with every little movement and you have to grit your teeth whenever you have to cut down a large branch, your muscles groaning in protest. However, the growing pile of branches on the ground below you gives you a sense of accomplishment. Who needs help? You’ve got this. You’re doing just fine on your own.

You’re almost done when you hear shouting and glance down the street to see a man chasing after a big dog. A dog that is running full speed, right at you. As if in slow motion, you watch as the floppy-eared dog crashes head first into the legs of the ladder.

You scramble to steady yourself, the hedge trimmers dropping into the pile of branches below you. Thankfully, it lands nowhere near the dog, who has already picked himself back up and started rolling around in the grass several feet away. You, however, aren’t so lucky, the ladder swaying dangerously, two of its four legs hovering off the ground. You’re really beginning to hate this thing.

“Hold on! I’ve gotcha!” The man shouts, racing over to brace the ladder, lowering it down carefully.

You scurry down, grateful to be on solid ground once more, “Thanks. Last thing I need is to fall again today.”

The man pauses, cocking his head slightly, “Ya normally fall a lot, or…?” There’s a slight laugh to his voice, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You can feel your cheeks heat up.

Why are you saying stupid shit like that in front of a stranger?

You try to laugh it off, “What can I say? I have the coordination of a spider on roller skates.”

The man snorts, his smile growing, “Um, I’m James. Sorry about Stitch nearly bowling ya over.”

The dog, Stitch, sits up at the sound of his name and comes bounding over with a big dopey grin. It’s hard not to laugh a little at how excited he is, wagging his tail so fast he might take off like a helicopter.

You crouch down, offering your hand to the excitable pup, “Hi, there. I have a friend named Stitch, too. He’s a sweetie, like you.” The desire to sink into darkness at the thought of Mateo and the inanimals is strong. Thankfully, this Stitch is just as lovable, so it’s easy to forget, licking at your hand before headbutting it, and throwing his body weight into your legs as he collapses belly up.

“Jeez! Don’t knock ‘em over! Ya big ham!” James admonishes without any real bite.

“Oh, he’s fine. I don’t mind,” you glance up as you scratch Stitch’s tummy, “Does he usually run off like that?”

He cringes, “Not usually, nah. Think he’s been gettin’ restless. We just moved recently, so he might’ve been goin’ a little stir crazy. Damn near tore the house up ‘fore I finally took ‘im out. We actually moved in just ‘round the corner.” He hikes his thumb towards the street behind your house. You realize he has a bit of a Southern drawl, a little old school, kind of like Johnny, just seriously toned down.

“Oh, really? Well, welcome to the neighborhood! I hope you two like it here! Are you settling in alright?” You reply with a smile. You can almost feel the familiar mask sliding back on. Over the years, it became second nature, crafting a pleasant persona to use, a version of yourself to present to others. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to be around the Dateables.

Because they never got to see the real you, the ugly parts that you hide away.

He blinks before breaking into a blinding smile, “Oh, we’re doin’ just fine! Real sweet of ya to ask, though.”

James glances over at the ladder, brows drawn low, “Doesn’t look real sturdy. You sure ya should be climbin’ that thing?” His eyes widen as if catching himself because he hurries out, “I don’t mean to assume nothin’, but don’cha got somebody to come help ya out? Don’t need ya topplin’ over a third time today.”

You smile, though, this time it’s a little stiff, “Oh, I’m fine! Just didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night. But, I’ve got it! I don’t mind the work, and I’ve always been a little independent, so I’m good.”

Stop rambling!

You clear your throat and smile again, hoping that it looks more natural, “Thanks for asking, though.”

James nods, seemingly convinced. He crouches down beside you, petting the wiggly Stitch. Now that he’s close, you can smell the astringent stench of cleaning products on his clothes. Guess he’s been hard at work cleaning his new house; you remember how long it took to clean this house when you first moved in. His knuckles are dry and cracked, too. You wonder if you should offer him some lotion, but quickly banish the thought. You don’t need to be the weird neighbor.

You already are.

For the next couple of minutes, the two of you chat. Meaningless stuff, mainly: the weather, nearby shops that James should check out, the latest episode of Cougars vs Cougars. The whole time, the mask stays on, its familiarity almost comforting. Though, you’d nearly forgotten how draining it is to keep it on. By the time James stands, saying that he should “get goin’”, you’re mentally exhausted.

James clips a leash onto Stitch’s collar, quietly telling him to “behave this time, or no mo’ treats for a week.” When he turns back to look at you, he seems almost bashful, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “Um… I don’t mean to… What I mean is- would ya like to go out with me sometime?”

It feels like a bowling ball has dropped into your stomach, a sudden dread filling you. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. It takes a few tries before you can speak properly, “I’m- I’m so sorry, but… I’m… I’m already seeing someone…” Well, technically, several someones, but this is already awkward enough as it is.

Several emotions flash across James’s face, too fast for you to decipher, before settling on something crestfallen. He grips Stitch’s leash tighter, visibly deflating, “Yeah, no, I get it. I just thought- nobody was ‘round to help ya, so- but, no, no.”

He shakes his head and offers a half smile, “Is all good. See ya ‘round, I guess?” Without another word, he and Stitch rush off, heading back the way they came. You notice that his shoulders are hunched inwards, and that they’re trembling.

The dread that fills your stomach crawls upwards, turning into a panic that threatens to choke you. You need to get back inside. Now.

You abandon the ladder and hedge trimmers, distantly thinking that you’ll be back for them later. You don’t know when later will be. It feels like the ground beneath your feet is swaying as you stumble towards the house. It takes all of your willpower not to run.

You barely make it through the front door, the toe of your shoe catching on the doorjamb, sending you stumbling inside. You turn and throw your body against the wood, slamming it shut, before sliding down to the floor. What’s wrong with you? Why are you freaking out? It was just some guy asking you out. No big deal. Why does it matter? Why are you acting like this!?

You claw at your chest, digging your nails into the skin above your thundering heart. You need to calm down. You need to breathe. Why is it so hard to breathe? You suck in air in desperate gasps, mind reeling.

It was just some guy, a neighbor, a stranger. You just met him. You don’t know him. You don’t owe him anything. You’re already seeing someone. Already seeing lots of someones. So why are you acting so weird? Because of a date you didn’t even agree to?

He was probably just being nice, anyhow.

Exactly. So why does it matter? What are you afraid of? That it’ll make the Dateables upset? That they’ll be jealous?

Your face is cold and numb, like all the blood has seeped elsewhere; maybe into your stomach, since it feels full of lead. Your fingers have started to tingle. It’s like when a limb falls asleep, like static, now spreading up your fingers and into your arms.

Does it even matter if they did get jealous? It would serve them right for disappearing on you.

No, that’s an awful thing to think. They’re busy. They’re enjoying their new lives.

Without you. Without the one that they supposedly “love”.

No, no, no! They do love you. You know they do. They said that they do.

It’s been weeks. Months. Since you’ve seen them. Since you talked to them for longer than a fucking minute.

You know that! You do! As if you could possibly forget it! Forget how empty this damn house feels, how empty you feel! But you aren’t going to dump all of that, that burden on someone you’re dating.

Are you even still dating?

It feels like the air has been punched out of your lungs.

Are you? It’s been months. Surely someone would’ve stopped by at this point. Some of them live here in town and yet not one of them has come to see you in weeks?

Hot tears cloud your vision, rolling down your clammy cheeks.

Maybe they just didn’t have the heart to tell you. Or maybe they just don’t care. They have new lives to live, after all, filled with other people. People who aren’t as worthless as you.

There’s a lump in your throat that threatens to suffocate you. You cough, gasping for air through the onslaught of tears.

They don’t need you anymore. They don’t want you anymore.

You are alone.

At some point, you think you start screaming, a sound so choked and garbled, it’s like wet gravel coats your throat.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, though the sun has set by the time you come to. You’re lying on the ground, face pressed against the floorboards. You’ve gone hoarse from all the yelling and some part of you wonders if the neighbors could hear you carrying on; you don’t have it in you to care. You’re not sure you care about much of anything right now. It’s like a part of you has been hollowed out.

Slowly, you push yourself up. Your limbs are heavy like sandbags and it takes considerable effort to haul yourself upright. The task of climbing the stairs is nearly herculean but you manage. You don’t even take off your shoes as you collapse onto the bed.

It takes everything in your power to remember to plug in your phone, knowing that you’ll only be more distraught in the morning if it’s dead. Some small glimmer of hope you didn’t even know you still had is snuffed out when you read the screen: no missed calls, no new messages. You can’t even muster up a tear. You set the phone down and stare into the darkness of your room until, mercifully, sleep comes.

Maybe you should sleep forever.

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Hello again! Thank you so, so much to everyone who read the first chapter! You have no idea how much it means to me. I've always kept my fanfic private, so I wasn't sure if anyone would be interested. Everyone's support helped to encourage me to continue writing.

The angst keeps on coming and it won't stop coming, not for a little while anyway. So, I'm going to do my best to keep up on trigger warnings, but if you feel like I've missed something, please let me know!

Also the taglist! If you want to be included, please let me know! I'm more than happy to add to you, or remove you if you'd prefer.

@revalisgal3 @bihexualandferal @stellarinstigator @sleep-all-day-everyday @trixie541 @1mf1n3sstuf @simpdevil66 @arrtiee @deepseadork @doodle-with-rhy @cheshire-kitsune @ailine444 @littlepotaaatosimp @lalalandincraz

#date everything #date everything x reader #date everything game #date everything!#date everything fanfic

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ahnaiee · 12 hours ago

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PRETEND BOYFRIEND !

⋆｡°✩;; Zayne ⋆｡°✩;; You ask them to pretend to be your boyfriend. Just for a day. ⋆｡°✩;; i will post sylus and calebs the moment i finish proofreading them i promise ⋆｡°✩;; Part 1: Rafayel, Xavier ⋆｡°✩;; Modern AU! No such thing as evols and such.

ZAYNE

It started as a joke.

You were complaining to Zayne about your parents’ constant questions of “When are you getting a boyfriend?” and you groaned, “Zayne, you should pretend to be my boyfriend for a day just so I could get them off my back.” You don’t notice the way he freezes for a split second, eyeing you behind his glasses. Instead, you giggle, covering your eyes with your arm. “Yeah. Nevermind. I don’t want to bother you with my family issues.”

Nothing else follows that comment, but it got worse when invitations for family gatherings kept popping up and you were always barraged with questions of a lover or a boyfriend or a girlfriend. You nearly threw your phone when Christmas time rolled around.

In all of those moments, Zayne would watch you grumble, groan, and turn to him with furrowed brows. “Zayne, we should date just for a day.”

It is not good for the heart of a man who loved you since you were kids.

December rolls around, and comes another round of your frustrations— and Zayne, dear Zayne, in hopes of finally calming his heart from your constant jokes of him being your fake boyfriend, just turns to you, brows raised as he carefully takes of his glasses, folding before placing it on the coffee table and goes, “If you need my help that much, [Name], I do not mind doing it.”

You freeze, mid-throw of your phone, and stare at Zyne, before bursting out into a loud, “REALLY?!”

Then comes the rundown. Aunts, uncles, cousins- it's not like he hasn’t met your parents, so that was great. He still remembers the little things about your parents from being neighbors with them.

“Do they still like wine?” Zayne asked you in the middle of the rundown. You hum, and nod. “Yeah. Dad still likes Red wine, and Mom likes the sparkling ones, specifically.”

“Alright.”

A week before the family gathering, Zayne calls you. You pick up, voice teasing as a small smirk grows on your face. “Yeah? What's up, future boyfriend?”

There’s a pause on the other end, and you fear you scared him off but there's a small cough, then “Ah. Well. May I ask what you are wearing for the gathering?”

“Oh! Something pink, I guess?” He hears you fumbling around. Maybe looking for the dress you were talking about. “Yeah. Pink. Why?”

“Do you mind if I match with you?”

“What?” You pause. “Really? Pink?”

“Yes, well, I do think Pink is a flattering color on me.”

He hears you snort, and smiles. He can hear the smile on your face when you respond, “Okay, Doctor. Whatever you say.”

You walked in that family gathering with a gentleman dressed in pink, one of his hands holding yours and the other holding the wine your parents like. They were enamoured the moment they saw him. I mean, Asian parents dream’ right? Safe to say you silenced any more questions of a lover. Instead, you unlocked a new level: marriage. The questions made you want to melt into the floor and never resurface.

Zayne, however, was a good sport, totally answering all the questions with ease. It’s a good thing the questions died down until they started probing about your relationship.

“How long have you been together?” An aunt asked, smiling wide. Zayne smiles, looking at you with soft, loving eyes, you question if this was even a pretending situation. “We’ve been friends since we were younger. We just recently got together, about four months ago.”

Okay. That’s good. That’s according to the fake scenario you both made up–

“Ooh! When did you realize you liked [Name]?” A cousin asked, eyes twinkling as she looked back from you then to Zayne. You pause. Blinking slowly, you turn to Zayne, suddenly interested. Hey, this was a question for him, and you wanted to see how well he fares! “Yeah, Zayne, when did you realize you liked me?”

He doesn’t look at you, but you notice the way he softened. “Since we were little.” His answer was immediate, and there’s a gentle tilt to his smile.

You look at him. And your chest constricts.

He’s genuine. Sincere, and when he looks at you at that moment? His eyes are loving– his hand on your waist is gentle, and his smile?

Everything starts to make sense. How Zayne doesn’t say anything when you come over unannounced, how willing he is to join you in your schemes just so he could be around you, how quickly he responds to your texts and that soft gaze he has every time he looks at you, which you always chalked up to your imagination?

Everything clicks. And you look at him, eyes wide as realization washes over you.

Oh.

He tilts his head. “Darling? Are you alright?”

Oh.

You clear your throat, trying to calm the sudden rush of heat on your cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m fine.” And you grin at him, “Wow, Zayne, I didn’t know you liked me that long.” You tease, poking his side like you didn’t just realize Zayne, your childhood friend Zayne, your doctor and longtime friend Zayne, likes you.

He hums lowly, “I think you meant love. I loved you for a long time before we got together.”

And you melt. Your voice drops to a whisper, “Are you lying, Zayne? Is that true?”

He meets your eyes, serious, soft– gentle. Your heart stops. “If I kiss you in front of your family, will you believe me?”

You swallow, eyes flickering to his lips then to his eyes and you shoot your shot. “Yeah.”

There’s a short silence, and then he leans in. The moment his lips make contact with yours, you completely forget you were in a family gathering. It was a short kiss, about five seconds, but the moment you pulled away and you met his flushed gaze?

Yeah. yeah he’s definitely not just your pretend boyfriend now.

©ahnaiee [do not repost, copy, translate, or modify]

#★ : ahnwrites<3 #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne x reader #lads zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne x mc #zayne fluff #lds zayne #zayne li #lads fanfic #lads fluff #love and deepspace fluff

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inseobts · 2 days ago

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Heartstrings pt.4

trafalgar law x fem!reader

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 5

amid the chaos of punk hazard, you reunite with trafalgar law, stirring old memories, buried emotions, and a shared past haunted by corazon’s death. but there's no time to dwell—doflamingo’s name resurfaces, and this time, you refuse to let history repeat itself.

tags: zou/wci and wano spoilers I guess, angst to fluff, childhood friends, slow burn

word count: 3.3k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The morning fog clings to the trees as the city awakens beneath the giant elephant’s back. You sit at the edge of a crumbling wall, boots kicking softly against stone, watching clouds drift through the jungle canopy.

Below, laughter echoes. Bepo’s voice, Penguin’s loud teasing, Shachi’s curse as he gets tackled again. The Heart Pirates are whole again. And for the first time in a long time, Law looks like he’s breathing easy.

You wish you could say the same.

“You’re avoiding him.” comes a familiar voice behind you.

You don’t need to turn “I’m not avoiding anyone.”

“Right.” It’s Nekomamushi, surprisingly light-footed for someone of his size “You’re just sulking like a ghost."

You roll your eyes “Thanks.”

He chuckles, tail flicking “The surgeon’s looking for you.”

Of course he is.

You find Law where you always do: somewhere quiet, alone with his thoughts and too much weight in his shoulders.

“Luffy wants me to come to Whole Cake Island.” you say before he can greet you.

He doesn’t flinch. He just looks out over the mist-covered forest, expression unreadable.

“And?” he asks.

You hesitate “And I’m thinking about it.”

His jaw tightens “Of course you are.”

It cuts “You’re not going to ask me to stay?”

He turns then. Really looks at you “Would it matter if I did? He's your Captain. That's your crew.”

You don’t answer. Not right away.

“I don’t want to run,” you say finally “Not anymore. And I owe Sanji. They all do.”

Law nods slowly “Then go.”

It feels like a slap. Even if you expected it.

“I thought maybe we were building something again.” you whisper.

“We are,” he says “But I won’t chain you to me. You came all this way alone. You found your spot in a crew that fits you perfectly. We avenged Corazon. You're free to go whenever and wherever you want.”

You laugh bitterly “That’s not what this is.”

“No?” he asks, stepping closer “Then tell me what it is.”

You falter “I don’t know yet.”

He exhales, slow and quiet “Then go figure it out.”

You look at him for a long time “And if I don’t?”

Law’s eyes soften, just barely “Nothing will change.”

You leave him standing in the fog, heart heavy, but steps lighter than before.

In the end you decided not to go to Whole Cake Island.

You watch as the group gets ready to leave, Sanji’s fate dangling like a string between worlds, and you feel the weight of your choice settle on your shoulders. But you don’t regret it. Not after the conversation with Zoro.

“Don’t go if you don't feel like it.” he’d told you, blunt as always “You don’t owe anyone your exhaustion. And Luffy got it anyway, as always.”

It was oddly comforting. In a way Law’s silence hadn’t been.

You return to the forest clearing where Law's crew has made a temporary camp. It smells like steamed fish and overcooked rice, and the shouting starts before you even step fully into view.

“Bepo, I swear, if you touch my rice again—”

“I was checking if it was done!”

“By eating it?!”

You blink.

Chaos.

Pure, stupid chaos.

Shachi is shirtless and chasing Bepo with a wooden spoon. Penguin is bent over, crying with laughter, and Ikkaku is sitting on a rock cleaning her gun like none of this concerns her.

They all stop when they see you.

“Oh,” Bepo says, perking up “You must be Y/N! Law’s been sulking about you for days!”

Your mouth opens “I—what?”

“I haven’t been sulking.” Law says from behind you, already sounding exasperated “Don’t encourage them.”

The rest of the crew immediately ignores him and swarms you with introductions, questions, and opinions you didn’t ask for.

“You seem cute.”

“Are you smart?”

“Can you cook better than Law? Wait, can anyone cook worse than Law?”

“You two are dating or what?”

“I swear to god…” Law mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

You’re laughing before you realize it, a real one this time, from your chest. It’s loud and stupid and warm.

This… feels like a family.

No wonder Law always looked like he was half a second from strangling someone. Or hugging them. Possibly both.

Later, when the sun sinks low over Zou and the fires have died down, you find him sitting near the edge of the cliff, flipping his nodachi over his lap absentmindedly.

You sit beside him without asking.

“They’re… a lot.” you offer.

“They’re unmanageable,” Law replies flatly “And unfortunately, loyal.”

You smile faintly “You’ve built something good. I'm happy seeing it.”

He glances at you sideways “You stayed.”

You nod.

His brows lift, just slightly “Why?”

“I talked to Zoro and it helped me.”

Law’s expression doesn’t change, but you feel the silence that follows stretch tight.

“I needed someone who didn’t tell me what I should do. Just… what was okay not to do.”

“I could’ve—” Law cuts himself off “I didn’t realize I wasn’t that person.”

You don’t notice the way his hand clenches around his sword. Or the way his gaze dips to the floor for a second too long.

You shrug “It’s not a competition.”

He hums “Maybe not to you.”

You turn toward him “What was that?”

“Nothing.” he lies, smooth.

He’s already closed the door, locked it, and buried the key beneath years of practiced apathy.

You don’t push. Maybe one day, he’ll hand it to you himself.

For now, you sit in silence with the man who rebuilt himself from ash. And maybe, finally, you start to do the same.

You leave before the sun is fully up.

You tell Law you’re going back to join the rest of your crew, the ones who stayed behind. He nods without argument, always good at pretending like things don’t bother him.

Maybe that’s what bothers you the most.

The path through the jungle is half-covered in mist and soft with morning dew. You move quietly, boots leaving almost no sound on the damp moss.

That’s when you hear a crunch behind you.

Soft. Hesitant.

You don’t turn.

Not yet.

It only takes a few more seconds to spot the blur of white fur, awkwardly crouched in a bush that’s far too small for his massive frame.

You blink.

Is Bepo… spying on us?

He’s peering back through the trees toward the cliff where you left Law, completely unaware that you’ve stopped walking.

You don’t know whether to laugh or sigh.

So instead, you step lightly through the brush, circle behind him, and tap him on the shoulder.

“GAH!”

You slap a hand over his mouth.

“Shhh! Unless you want him to know you were spying.” you whisper, half-smiling, half-exasperated.

He blinks up at you with wide, guilty eyes, then quickly nods.

You let your hand drop.

“I’m sorry!” he whispers “I wasn’t trying to be creepy! I just… everyone was wondering if you were leaving for good and I thought maybe—”

You hold up a hand “It’s fine. But come with me.”

You lead him off the path to a small, quiet spot between two wide tree trunks. No crew noise. No Law.

You sit down on a rock and gesture to the one across from you.

Bepo, looking sheepish, lowers himself slowly.

You take a breath.

And then you ask the question you weren’t even sure you wanted to say aloud:

“Is Law happy?”

The silence that follows is immediate and telling.

You don’t look up. You’re staring at the ground, at the leaves near your boot, trying to keep your voice steady.

“He was easier to read as a kid...” you murmur “Or maybe I just don’t know him anymore like I thought.”

You pause.

“Or like I wanted to think.”

Bepo doesn’t answer right away.

You glance up.

His expression is gentle. Not pitying, just knowing.

“He doesn’t say it,” Bepo finally says, ears twitching, “but I think... you still matter. A lot.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He frowns slightly, looking down “Then... I don’t know.”

You nod, slowly. Somehow, that hurts more than a yes or no.

“I thought maybe coming back into his life would make things clearer. That we’d just... fall into place again.”

“And it’s not like that?”

You look up at the trees, the sunlight trying to filter through.

“No. It’s like... we’re speaking the same language, but the words don’t mean the same things anymore.”

Bepo watches you, tail curled tightly around his feet.

“I think he wants to let you in,” he says after a while “But Law always waits until he’s sure it won’t hurt later. Sometimes... that means he waits too long.”

You nod and then for a long time, neither of you say anything.

You sit in the quiet, listening to the forest breathe, trying to remember the version of him that smiled without hesitation and wondering if you'll ever see it again.

Wano Arc

Wano is full of smoke and silence.

You and Law haven’t avoided each other, not exactly. But you stay with your crew, and he stays with his. Safer that way. Cleaner. You tell yourselves it's for the mission, for the cover stories, for the rebellion.

Not because it hurts to look at him too long.

It’s late when you find Zoro behind one of the empty storehouses, sharpening his swords in silence.

You don’t say anything at first. Just sit nearby. Wait.

“You’re still here.” he mutters without looking up.

“You knew I’d come back.”

“Tch. You suck at sneaking around.”

You pause. Then “Teach me.”

Zoro looks at you. One brow raised.

“To sneak?”

“To fight.”

He studies you for a moment too long “You already know how.”

“I want to be better.”

A beat.

“For him?” he asks.

“No,” you lie “For me.”

Training is brutal. Zoro doesn’t hold back, and you wouldn’t want him to. Pain is easier to carry than longing.

Each slash of the blade, each spin of your heel, each parry, they drown out the ache.

You don’t think about Law.

You don’t think about what he might be doing.

Or who he might be with.

Until one distracted moment costs you everything.

Zoro’s blade doesn’t land, of course it doesn’t. He pulls back in time. But your step is wrong, your weight off, and your shoulder collides against a jagged edge of broken wood.

You hiss sharply as pain blooms down your side.

Zoro is at your side instantly. He curses under his breath when he sees the blood staining your shirt.

“Great. That’s deep.”

“I’m fine.” you breathe.

“You’re bleeding through your teeth.”

“Just get me some cloth—”

“No.” he snaps “Chopper’s not here. And you can’t go to any doctor in the city. One look at this and they’ll know you’ve been doing suspicious things. That breaks your cover. I already made enough problems alone, we can't let you add up to that.”

You go quiet.

Zoro sighs “Which means there’s only one person left.”

You know who. Of course you do.

“No.” you say immediately “No, Zoro. I’ll wrap it myself—”

He doesn’t argue.

He just picks you up.

You squirm in his arms, protesting half-heartedly. But Zoro is immovable, a walking wall of muscle and irritation.

“Stop moving. You’re just bleeding faster.”

“I hate you.”

“Good. Maybe aim some of that rage at Kaido later.”

You don’t know Law’s exact location, but Zoro does. Somehow. Maybe he’s been keeping tabs. Maybe he just knows. Or maybe he got lost and just found him by mistake… or luck.

You hear Law before you see him, giving orders to Ikkaku in a sharp voice, calm but clipped. The moment he sees you in Zoro’s arms, his voice falters.

His brows furrow, and his jaw tightens.

He doesn’t speak.

Zoro sets you down gently near the edge of the tent and folds his arms “She needs patching up. Can’t go to town. Can’t go to Chopper. You’re the only option.”

Law doesn’t answer right away. He steps closer, gaze flicking down to your side, now soaked through with red. His hands move automatically to his gloves.

“Idiot.” he mutters.

“I said I was fine.” you say, too defensive.

He ignores you “How long ago?”

“Half an hour, maybe.” Zoro answers.

Law kneels beside you, the tip of his finger ghosting just beside the wound. It’s gentle, practiced. But you still wince.

“That bad?” you whisper.

“It’s not the worst injury you’ve had. But it’s in a dangerous place.”

He doesn’t look at you when he says it. And you don’t ask what he means by dangerous.

But then, something shifts in his face. Just a flicker.

You follow his gaze.

He's looking at your hand, you got many cuts but all healed. The faint mark of Zoro’s grip on your arm from when he carried you.

His expression is flat. Too flat.

Zoro doesn’t notice.

But you think… maybe something flickers behind those dark eyes.

“Don’t move.” Law says, voice low.

“You don’t have to—”

“I said, don’t move.”

You go still and then he starts stitching.

You don’t flinch at the needle.

But you do at the silence.

He finishes quickly, bandages you carefully, hands brushing skin too familiar for comfort.

Zoro nods “Thanks.”

Law gives a small, tight nod.

Zoro leaves.

You stay.

Still sitting on the crate, watching Law clean his tools. His hands are steady. His face is blank.

You want to ask if he’s okay. You want to ask if he was even just a biiiiit jealous.

But instead, you say, “Thanks.”

And he finally looks at you.

His expression doesn’t soften. But his voice is quieter when he says, “You shouldn’t need someone to carry you to me.”

Your heart stumbles.

“Next time,” he adds, eyes sharp now, “come on your own. And don't make it look like you'd rather die than see me.”

And then he turns away before you can speak, because he’s said too much already.

Zoro's name is in everyone’s mouth.

Whispers in the marketplace. Murmurs between couriers. His sword, his face, his defiance… too loud for Wano’s fragile balance. Too dangerous.

You storm into Law’s temporary base one evening, dust still clinging to your sleeves.

“This can’t go on.” you snap.

Law doesn’t look up from the map he’s annotating “Zoro again?”

“He’s making a scene.”

“When is he not?”

You shoot him a glare.

He sighs and finally glances up “We’ll deal with it.”

You frown “We?”

“You’re already here,” he says “Might as well make yourself useful.”

You blink.

And before you know it, days pass.

You stay.

And that’s when the distance starts.

The Heart Pirates welcome you in like family. Bepo offers tea every morning. Ikkaku trains with you. Shachi yells too much. But it’s Penguin who surprises you most.

He’s always nearby, always quick to offer you food, or a tool, or a seat beside him. He laughs too loudly when you joke. His ears turn red when your hand brushes his.

But you never notice.

You're too busy avoiding someone else.

Every time Law passes too close, you tense. Every time his hand accidentally brushes your arm during planning, you pull away too quickly. You hate yourself for it. You tell yourself it’s stupid.

But it isn’t just about now.

It’s that night.

The night of the letters.

The night he said he didn’t like you anymore.

And now every time his fingers hover too close to yours, your mind screams: don’t want something that already let you go.

He notices.

Of course he does.

You’re a little quieter with him now. Too polite. Too careful.

But what he notices more, painfully so, is Penguin.

The way Penguin lights up when you enter a room. The way he stammers when you ask him to pass something. The way he leans in to your attention like a man starved.

And the way you seem more comfortable with him than with Law.

Law watches from the corner of the room one night, maps forgotten, reports open and unread.

Penguin’s hand bumps yours as he passes you a flask, and he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. His cheeks flush. You laugh softly.

You don’t see Law’s expression.

Later that night, Bepo finds him standing alone near the edge of camp, hood pulled low.

“You okay, Captain?”

Law doesn’t answer right away.

Then, without looking up, he says flatly, “She flinches when I touch her.”

Bepo doesn’t say anything. Just stands beside him, silent.

After a long pause, Law adds, “But not when he does.”

And that silence speaks more than anything else could.

The night is calm, almost deceptively so.

The stars are low and hazy, a veil stretched thin across the sky. Around the fire, the Heart Pirates laugh, sharing rice wine and stories they’ve all heard too many times before.

You laugh with them. You smile. You even tease Bepo when he nods off sitting up.

But your eyes keep drifting.

To him.

Law sits near the edge of the firelight, legs crossed, listening quietly as Shachi recounts some wild retelling of a mission that clearly didn’t happen like that.

He doesn’t say much. But every now and then, you see his mouth tug into something like a smile.

And each time it does, your heart twists.

Eventually, one by one, they begin to leave.

Bepo first, then Ikkaku, Shachi. Some offer sleepy goodnights, others just yawn and wander off.

You stay seated. So does Penguin.

And so does Law for a moment.

Then you look away, just for a second.

When you glance back up, Law is looking directly at you.

You can’t hold it.

Your eyes drop to the ground. You focus on your hands. On the dirt. On anything but him.

He watches a second longer. Then rises to his feet.

“Goodnight.” he says.

His voice is even. But something in it… stings.

You don’t look up. You just nod.

And then he’s gone.

The silence that follows is heavy. Penguin shifts beside you, fiddling with a twig in the fire.

You exhale, long and tired. And then the words come out before you can stop them.

“I feel so dumb around him...”

Penguin blinks, surprised “Law?”

You nod slowly.

Then you laugh but there’s no humor in it “You know… when we were little, we used to like each other.”

You hug your knees loosely “Now look at us. He’s… he’s moved on. He’s out there building alliances and saving the world. And I’m still stuck. Still dragging these feelings around like they’re worth something.”

You pause.

Then, softer “I wish Cora was here to help me.”

Your voice cracks.

“I… I miss him so much.”

The first tear falls before you can catch it.

Then another.

And another.

You bury your face in your arms, trying to hide it, but it’s too late. Your shoulders tremble with the weight of everything you’ve kept in.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper “He was the only one who ever helped me understand Law. He saw us. And now I don’t even know who Law is anymore.”

Penguin stares, frozen.

He knew you had feelings for Law, everyone knows. But this? This is raw. This is a level of heartbreak he didn’t know you’d buried so deep.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt “I shouldn’t be dumping this on you—”

“No,” Penguin says quickly, his voice suddenly small “It’s okay. Really.”

You glance at him.

His cheeks are pink. His eyes wide with something that looks a little like pain, a little like helplessness.

“I just didn’t know it hurt you this much.” he admits.

You offer him the smallest smile through your tears “Neither did I.”

And then you both sit in the firelight, the night stretching quiet around you with war on the horizon, and too many unspoken things between you and the one person not there.

In the distance, beyond the tents, Law stares up at the sky from his place on the hill, jaw tight. He doesn’t know what hurts more, that he always leaves, or that you never stop him.

Tag List: @eravariety - @wontknowbetter - @riftmage27 - @lalaveys

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charminglyselfish · 2 days ago

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Max Verstappen x reader

masterlist

“Are you waiting for someone?”

You turn your head to look at the man who just stopped next to you, but he’s not looking at you, he’s staring at someone across the street. The young man on the other side is leaning against a fancy car, some limited edition Porsche, probably, and he’s a little too busy scrolling his phone.

And then he looks at you with a coy smile, as if he was sure you were swept off your feet the moment he started talking to you. He looks familiar, but that doesn’t surprise you, Monaco is full of famous and infamous people, and this guy must be one of them.

Knowing that you’ve certainly seen him somewhere, that deep inside your brain you do have the answer is annoying you like a sneeze that doesn’t wanna come out. “My friends are still inside, I’m waiting for them to finally crawl out,” you respond eventually.

He nods. “My ride’s here,” the mystery guy says, although you didn’t ask.

It’s your turn to nod.

“Wanna tag along?”

Bold of him to assume you would get into a stranger’s car. But his blue eyes–well, at least your guess is that they’re blue, it’s hard to tell so late at night–are watching you like he was silently pleading you to say yes.

You let out a thoughtful hum as if you were considering his offer. “As tempting as it is, I’d rather stick with my friends, thanks,” you tell him with a sweet smile.

“I’m Max,” he introduces himself.

Nodding, you tell him your name, then turn around just in time to see Michelle stumble out of the club, right on the side of a guy who will become the next victim of her clingy behavior.

Then she’ll cry when he leaves her, and say she’s simply not pretty enough, and never, not once will she consider that maybe she’s just not fun to be with.

This doesn’t bother you, though. She’s a good friend, and you’re not a guy who would have to listen to her nonsense. Okay, you do have to listen to it, just not that much.

“Your friend?” Max wonders with a raised brow.

“Yeah.”

“Seems busy.”

“Yeah.”

“So? You coming with me then?”

You look at him, like, really look at him for the first time. Why is he so familiar? Where have you seen him? Definitely on television. But you shake your head to get these questions out of your head as it’s completely irrelevant, you’re not planning to go anywhere with him.

In fact, you were supposed to pick up some guy here tonight so you could start this secret operation where you try to scare him away in ten days. Your editor-in-chief wanted a great “how to” story, so you’re going to give her one that will become a hit.

This guy looks relatively normal, confident, cocky, even, maybe a little weird too, and you were planning to choose someone more… average. A guy any reader could get, not just bombshells who look like models. Something tells you Max is everything but average, but something is still different about him.

“Come on,” he says as he playfully pokes your arm with his elbow.

With a sigh, you briefly rub the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t say yes.”

Max flashes a big smile at you and laughs. “You want to. Don’t play hard to get, it doesn’t suit you,” he says, then waves to the guy across the street since he looked over at the two of you.

You barely waste a glance at him, your eyes return to the man next to you. “I’m not playing hard to get, you’re the one who doesn’t even consider the possibility of me not being interested in you,” you tell him defiantly.

But that’s not enough, he just laughs louder than before. “Yeah, right. You know what? Give me your phone for a sec,” he tells you as he holds out his hand.

“What?”

“Your phone. Give it to me for a second.”

“I don’t want your number.”

Max flashes a wolfish smile at you. “Oh, you’re gonna get something better than my number.”

With a frown, you give him the phone, because you’re now really interested in what he wants to write in it. Only half a minute passes before he gives it back to you, and when you look at it, your breath catches in your throat. It’s an address and a name–a name you remember thanks to visiting the Monaco GP last year.

Max fucking Verstappen.

The moment realization hits you is probably visible on your face, because he tilts his head to the side with an amused smile. “Hold on, you had absolutely no idea who I am until now,” he says, and when you shrug, he shrugs. “Well, now you can get to know me if you want to.”

And with that, he walks over to his friend, leaving you behind as if it was a perfectly normal situation.

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 x you

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prncessrindou · 1 day ago

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‎♡ 𓄹 . ִ ֗ think fast — i’m a random girl . . !

trying to do challenges with rindou is a challenge itself.

he most of the time doesn’t understand the concept of the challenge, gets frustrated and doesn’t want to be bothered with it at all. so you thought maybe this particular challenge would be easier for him — well, you hope it’d be easier for him.

rindou is sitting in his gaming chair, playing his game and is unaware of your schemes as you walk over to him, fall into his lap and wrap your arms around him.

“think fast,” you said softly, “i’m a random girl.” rindou allowed you to kiss him and he pulled you closer by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace while deepening the kiss.

you almost forgot you were trying to do a challenge because the kiss was so good, but you quickly snapped out of it and pulled away from the kiss with rindou giving you a confused look.

“why’d you stop?” he asked.

“you were supposed to push me away or something!”

rindou began scratching his head, “and why would i do that?”

“because i’m a random girl!”

“but you’re not just some random girl,” he said with a serious expression on his face, “you’re my girl, now come here.” he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him so you could sit down on his lap.

“that isn’t how the challenge goes, though.” you replied, sulking.

“wait, challenge?” rindou questioned, “you mean to tell me that this is supposed to be a challenge?”

“yes.” you nodded your head.

“here we fuckin’ go.” rindou rolls his eyes, already annoyed. “you and these damn challenges.”

“it’s not just any challenge though!” you spat, “you just have to pretend i’m some random girl trying to kiss you!”

“you’re not some random girl! you’re literally my girl!”

you pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath. “whatever you say, rin, but we’re doing this challenge the right way!” you said, walking away from rindou. “from the top!”

rindou sighed, throwing his head back against his chair. you suddenly came rushing in with your arms open as if you were trying to hug him. “think fast, i’m a random girl.” you said, grabbing rindou’s chin trying to kiss him.

he pushes you away with a disgusted look on his face, “ew,” he says, “get away! i have a girl and she can fight. i suggest you back off if you don’t want to get your ass whooped!” rindou says, crossing his arms and looking away as if he was disgusted with you.

you started laughing, “damn, that was perfect! now all we have to do is record it.” you said, taking your phone out of your pocket.

“wait, you didn’t have your phone already propped up somewhere?” rindou questioned, looking around the room.

“no..” you answered, “i felt like you were going to fuck up the first time which you did, but you have it down now.. don’t you?”

rindou shrugged his shoulders, “nah, i don’t. i have amnesia.”

“rinnnn! come on, do it one more time! for me?!”

“no can do..” he said, grabbing his controller and starting back up the game from where he left off.

“well, if you won’t do it, i guess i’ll get ran! i wonder if he’s busy ‘cause i know he’ll be down to do it.” you said as you turned away from rindou, smiling because you knew how irritated he would get if you mentioned ran or got him to do anything for you.

but before you could dial ran’s number, rindou took your phone out of your hand. “like fuckin’ hell.. you aren’t calling that scumbag.” rindou grabbed your neck and pulled you closer to him, bringing you in for a deep kiss. “i’ll do it..” he said softly, “the challenge.. i’ll do the stupid challenge as many times as you want.”

you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, “you’re literally the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for!” you said, grinning and kissing him all over his face.

“whatever, let’s just get this over with.” he muttered and you got your phone from him and started recording the final act of the challenge.

#prncessrindou post ౨ৎ #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #rindou haitani #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani x you #rindou haitani fluff #rindou x reader #tokrev rindou #tokyo revengers rindou #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev x you #rindou x you #rindou x y/n

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winter-soldier-buck · 3 days ago

Text

heart by heart ♡ b.b

pt.4

pairing: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x singlemom!fem!reader

warnings: violence??? also, like, a LOT of yearning annnnd a couple surprises at the end hehe

word count: 5.3k

author's note: y'all i think this is my favourite chapter so far. the flashback alone is almost 3k words lollll and was so fun to write cause i love angst. anyways, once again, thank you so much for reading and i'd love to hear what you think 🥹🫶🏼

series masterlist

Siberia, Russia - June 2016

Your head pounded with an ache worse than anything you’d ever felt before. The pain was so intense that you couldn’t help the cry of agony that left your mouth as your senses started returning. Gradually, your eyes blinked open, and although your vision was blurry, you saw that you were wearing the same clothes you remembered having on, apart from a winter coat of sorts that surely didn’t belong to you. It was easy to piece together that you were a long way away from the comfort of your apartment in Bucharest.

The concrete floor you lay on was cold, and the room you were in was dark apart from what seemed to be five large, dull, yellow lights surrounding you. Slowly, you used the little strength you had to push yourself up so that you weren’t fully lying on the ground, but quickly had to squeeze your eyes shut again as dizziness and nausea shook you to your core.

You groaned as you finally got into a sitting position, then put your face in your hands. After a moment and a few deep breaths, you kept your eyes closed as you reached up and touched the top left of your forehead, just behind your hairline. Although you felt pain seemingly everywhere, most of it came from that spot. Sure enough, you felt a mass of gooey liquid pooled there and were unsurprised to see your fingers coated in semi-drying blood when you brought your hand back down to look at it.

Despite continuing to take deep breaths, you started hyperventilating. Your breaths became sharp and jagged, as though each one was a fight to take. You had no idea where you were, zero recollection of how you got there, and no energy to try to escape.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N, you’re awake,” a man with a thick accent said as his footsteps approached, making you jump. You promptly looked in the direction the voice came from, but winced again as agonizing pain shot from the injury on your head. “Careful now, any sudden movements might hurt. Something seems to have hit you on the head.”

Great, this guy had jokes.

“Who are you?” You asked, voice cracking as the man’s silhouette stepped into the dull light. Nothing about him was familiar to you. He seemed to be in his late 30s, decently groomed and dressed in a long black coat, perfect for the cold environment. However, this had you looking around again at the unfamiliar place, which appeared to be a facility of sorts. “W-where are we?”

“So many questions,” the man tsked disapprovingly, but not tauntingly. “You can call me Zemo, I suppose. And, well, currently we’re in the depths of the Siberian Region in Russia.”

If your head didn’t already hurt, it would’ve started to then from information overload.

“Russia? Why me? How did I get here?”

“The details of how you got here are not important. Rest assured, my dear, nothing other than that head injury and some international transportation happened to you. Ok, and maybe some drugs so you remained unconscious. You put up a good fight, though. Rather unfortunate that I had to resort to violence and drugs to get you out of Romania. Could’ve just joined without struggle.”

“Oh, so you’re psychotic and delusional, got it,” you spat, making him chuckle. He found it entertaining how you glared at him with more annoyance than fear. “That still doesn’t answer why, asshole.”

“I guess you’re right,” Zemo agreed, then cocked his head to the side as he continued observing you. “You’re feisty. I can see why the Winter Soldier has grown so fond of you.”

Your mind immediately went to the last time you saw Bucky while at the street market together in Bucharest, and the newspapers with his face plastered all over them, saying he was wanted for a terrorist attack.

“Winter Soldier… that, that’s Bucky.”

“Indeed, it is. You pick up things quickly.”

“Where is he?” You asked, even though you didn’t expect to get an actual answer.

“Where? Well, I have no way of precisely knowing,” he started. “But, I’m sure he and his friends will be here soon.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“You’ve become a vital piece of my plan. I take it you are unaware of Winter Soldier’s past, correct?”

You nodded.

“Fascinating,” Zemo replied and stepped forward again. It was then that you realized he was holding a thick folder under his arm. “The Soldier has been off the radar for well over a year. Completely in solitude, hiding amongst the people of Romania after he disappeared without a trace and narrowly avoided the grasp of Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. He was the hardest for me to locate, but after he started spending time with a certain human American girl, the pieces began falling into place. So, I have you to thank for that, I suppose.”

He looked at you, waiting for a response, but you just blinked.

“What?” You scoffed. “I don’t know what any of this means. Am I supposed to say ‘you’re welcome?’ Because I’m not going to.”

“No,” he chuckled again. “I’m just trying to see the appeal of said human girl. I expected him to slip up in some way that would eventually aid me in finding him, but I didn’t expect it to be because of a girl he caught feelings for. Let alone for her to feel the same way about him despite his being a brainwashed serial killer and all.”

“Excuse me?”

Zemo smirked, then tossed the large file he held onto the ground in front of you with a dramatic thud, making you jump.

“That should catch you up to speed enough. If you need me, well, try not to.”

With that, he walked away to do god knows what, acting as though that was a normal conversation to have with someone. Part of you wanted to call after him, another part wanted to make a run for it and get as far away from him as possible.

However, when you glanced down at the file and saw the name ‘James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes - Winter Soldier’ written across it in bold letters, curiosity took over, and you soon reached forward for the folder and opened it up.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, where you remained seated on the ground, flipping through the pages and reading the documents the file contained, when footsteps approached and Zemo stepped out of the shadows again. It wasn’t until then that you noticed you had teared up at the information you’d just consumed and quickly reached up to wipe away the tear involuntarily sliding down your cheek.

A brief look of pity dawned on Zemo’s features, but disappeared when he spoke.

“You need to get up,” he stated cooly. “Bring that with you.”

There was no room for argument as he started walking away, leaving you to scramble to place everything back in the file as you stood. However, once you were up, you had to pause as a result of the lightheadedness you felt again. You quickly shut your eyes again, hoping it’d pass, and after a moment, you felt ok enough to open them. It was then that you finally got a better look at the five yellow lights you noticed when you first regained consciousness, but didn’t even think to consider getting a good look at them until then.

Those lights were chambers, and in them were people who didn’t move.

“Oh, my god,” you gasped, covering your mouth in shock. Zemo paused and looked over his shoulder at you. “A-are they dead?”

“They are now,” he replied, making you feel sick. “You would’ve read about them in that file, the other Winter Soldiers. They’re like your boyfriend, but worse.”

You were still in so much shock that you didn’t even have it in you to correct Zemo on how Bucky wasn’t technically your boyfriend.

“Was it necessary to kill them?”

“Yes. If it makes you feel better, it was done in their sleep before you woke up. They didn’t feel a thing. Now, follow me.”

That detail surely didn’t make you feel better, but still, you hurried after him.

As you trailed behind him, you started mentally asking yourself questions. Why did you listen to and follow after him so easily? Where else would you have gone if you didn’t? What were his plans for you?

Finally, you snapped.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” You asked, coming to a stop.

Zemo also halted.

“I have no intention of killing you, Y/N,” he stated, but didn’t turn around. “Like I said, you’re a vital piece in all of this. The Winter Soldier cares for you. Having you here gives me an edge over him if it means ensuring your safety. His focus on you will further complicate the situation he and his Avengers friends are about to discover, which is what I want.”

“So, I’m bait.”

“Essentially, yes. Now, come.”

Zemo continued without another word, and after a long moment, you reluctantly followed.

He led you down a series of hallways until, eventually, reaching a small surveillance-type room. The room had a tiny window that looked into the larger part of the facility you had just been in, but otherwise was very dull and unwelcoming. Zemo didn’t speak as he began flicking various switches on outdated machinery before turning to an ancient-looking computer system. You didn’t talk either. Instead, you stood in utter silence as you still processed what you read in that folder about Bucky.

It was difficult wrapping your head around everything. The way you felt frustrated over how things seemed so surface level with Bucky the last time you saw him, felt so minuscule in comparison to what you’d just learned. If what that file contained was true, well, you didn’t know what you’d do. Or if you’d live long enough to do anything at all.

“They’re here,” Zemo stated, breaking your train of thought as he dimmed all of the lights. “Showtime.”

Still, you kept quiet. There wasn’t anything else you could do but wait to see how this all played out.

After a few moments, multiple sets of footsteps could be heard as they approached the room with the chambers, eerily echoing throughout the facility. Eventually, three men rounded a corner to the hallway leading toward the chamber, and you felt as though the wind had been knocked right out of you.

“I’ve got heat signatures,” the first man stated, who you recognized to be none other than Tony Stark in his full Iron Man gear. You may not have known much about the Avengers, but you also didn’t live under a rock and were aware of who they were. Behind Tony trailed Steve Rogers and Bucky.

“How many?” Steve asked as Bucky crossed in front of him, gun held high and ready to attack. It was then that you caught sight of his left arm, which was entirely metal with a prominent red star on his shoulder, just like you read in the file. Why he always had gloves on made a lot more sense, but in the moment, that was the least of your worries.

“Uh, two,” Tony responded as they stepped into the larger space.

As if on cue, Zemo stepped in front of the window, still hidden by the darkness, then flicked another switch, and the chambers containing the Super Soldiers lit back up. You observed as the other three men surveyed the chambers.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep,” Zemo said, and you noticed a small microphone under the window that allowed him to communicate with the other three. “Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

“What the hell?” Bucky softly whispered, but you heard. Hearing his voice felt like a punch to the gut.

Zemo chuckled slightly before pressing the microphone button again.

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here.”

With another click, another light turned on, revealing where Zemo stood behind the window. Immediately, Tony got into position to blast the window. Still, Steve beat him by whipping his Captain America shield toward Zemo, but it bounced off the wall and ricocheted right back.

“Please, Captain,” Zemo started. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I bet I could beat that,” Tony quipped as he, Steve and Bucky cautiously approached, making Zemo chuckle again.

“Oh, I’m sure you could, Mr. Stark, given time. But then you’d never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here,” Steve said, then stopped in front of the window. His gaze met yours where you still stood in the corner of the small room, making his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You have a hostage?”

“I’d hardly call her that,” Zemo replied casually as he glanced over his shoulder at you, but you remained silent as you locked eye contact with the Winter Soldier.

“Y/N,” Bucky gasped, his defences dropping instantaneously as he processed the injured state you were in. His features softened as he looked at you, but hardened a moment later when he looked at Zemo again. “What the hell did you do to her? Let her go, she has nothing to do with any of this.”

“On the contrary, James, she deserves to know about the weapon of mass destruction that the man she was falling in love with is. I just took it upon myself to share this information with her before the three of you inevitably tear each other apart.”

“Bucky,” you whispered between small sobs that shook your body. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but instead, looked to the ground in defeat.

“You’re Sokovian,” Steve spoke to Zemo, trying to bring attention back to the primary issue at hand, which you were thankful for. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell,” Zemo replied. “No. I’m here because I made a promise.”

Steve nodded.

“You lost someone.”

“I lost everyone. And so will you.”

In the chamber, a screen turned on, bringing Tony and Steve’s attention to it, but Bucky didn’t take his eyes off of you.

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again,” Zemo explained. “But one which crumbles from within, that’s dead. Forever.”

Zemo didn’t speak again as he pressed a button, and whatever footage he hooked up to the screen in the chamber started playing. On a screen in the room you were in, the same footage showed, and you mindlessly wandered over to watch it.

The video showed an empty road, quiet and eerie, but soon disturbed as a car drove into frame and crashed into a tree. A moment later, a motorcycle drove into view, and a man with a blank stare and a metal arm climbed off of it to approach the car wreckage. You felt sick to your stomach as you watched Bucky, a brainwashed killing machine, walk up to the man who had fallen out of the driver’s side of the car and aggressively lift his head back to make eye contact.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the man said, and you had to look away. Based on the noises of struggle and a woman crying in the footage, it wasn’t hard to piece together what was happening.

“Why are you doing this?” You yelled at Zemo, your voice cracking while tears streamed down your face. He didn’t acknowledge you in the slightest as he continued watching the other three men.

Once the video ended, Tony went to attack Bucky, but Steve stopped him. They didn’t say much, but you learned that the people in the footage were Mr. and Mrs. Stark, Tony’s parents. Bucky murdered them, and Steve knew about it.

Tony blasted Steve with his suit, resulting in an all-out brawl between the three men.

“And that is our cue to leave, my dear,” Zemo stated as he stepped back from the window and swiftly looped his arm around yours, dragging you out of the room.

“We can’t just leave,” you cried as you fought against him. “They’re going to kill each other!”

In the facility, things crashed loudly, making the entire base shake in destruction.

“That’s the point. We’re getting out of here before they kill us in the process.”

~*~

New York City, USA - Late 2027

You held your breath, trying desperately to be quiet as you closed the door to the living quarters you and Penny were residing in for the night, hoping not to wake the sleeping toddler.

After an unpredictable and hectic day, Penny finally rested after a good hour of fighting sleep, and you refused to disturb her as you snuck into the hallway, monitor in hand, in case she woke, then made your way to the common area a few doors down.

The Watchtower was, in fact, the last place you thought you and Penny would end up after realizing someone had broken into your apartment. But you didn’t argue it either, because at least it was somewhere safe.

When you and Bucky went to inspect your apartment after learning that someone had invaded the space, a naive part of you wanted to believe it was a one-off. That there was no way someone had the motive to target you and Penny on a more personal level than a pity break-in. Boy, were you wrong.

Instead, the perpetrator didn’t do a damn thing. Nothing was broken, nothing seemed out of place. The only disturbance to the apartment was the damaged door, on which the Winter Soldier symbol was threateningly carved, indicating that the attack occurred because of your and Penny’s connection to Bucky.

The more you thought of it, the more you wished whoever broke in was just after your valuables. Having your TV smashed or some items stolen would’ve been substantially better than witnessing Bucky realize that someone was tormenting you and Penny because of him. To make it all worse, neither of you had any idea who could be behind it, either.

Once the initial shock of seeing the Winter Soldier symbol on the door wore off, it was like a switch went off in Bucky’s mind. Gone was the softness you’d witnessed all afternoon while he interacted with Penny, only to be replaced with a look of lethal intensity you’d only ever seen directed at others, usually when they posed any threat toward you.

You couldn't look away from him as he stared at the symbol, but after a moment, he mumbled something about you waiting there while he looked everything over. Bucky’s search of the apartment was swift, and it was he who determined that nothing seemed amiss. When you entered the apartment and looked it over, too, you confirmed that assumption.

Although nothing was out of place, you already knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that you and Penny would be staying there. After speaking with the police, they conducted their own investigation of the break-in, which came up inconclusive with no evidence left behind other than the Winter Soldier symbol. The lobby hadn’t even caught footage showing a person of interest. The entire situation was very unsettling, and you weren’t long deciding you’d be packing a bag for you and Penny to stay elsewhere.

Initially, you figured you’d relocate to a hotel, but then Bucky suggested staying at the Watchtower. He positioned the offer as a way for you to save money, but you knew, in reality, it was because having you and Penny so close by after such an ordeal would give him peace of mind. When the three of you arrived at the tower, he held off the rest of the New Avengers so you and Penny could settle in without disturbance.

You hadn’t seen him since, so you hoped to find him, since Penny was finally asleep.

When you entered the common room, you were surprised to find it empty. You half expected other members of the New Avengers to be lurking around. However, it was just Bucky sitting on one of the modern sofas, looking out the massive windows toward the bustling Manhattan streets below in silence. You didn’t need to make your presence known because after you took two steps further into the room, his gaze was on you.

“Hey,” Bucky greeted, standing up as you approached. “How is she? Can I get you two anything?”

Your heart swelled at how much he cared for Penny already, even though you expected nothing less. You always knew Bucky would be a great father. It truly was such a shame how everything worked out with him leaving before there was any knowledge of you expecting a baby.

“Pen’s alright,” you responded, then wrapped your arms around yourself as a sudden chill blew past. “She’s asleep, finally. It always takes her a bit longer to settle when she’s in an unfamiliar environment. Also, today was pretty heavy, so I can’t blame her for being restless.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, watching you intensely as you continued walking toward him.

“And you, Y/N? How are you?”

You came to a stop in front of him, then glanced at the couch.

“I’ve been better. Was hoping we could talk.”

“Of course,” Bucky replied. “Please, sit. I just finished boiling some water. I’ll make you tea.”

Before you could object, Bucky was already walking toward the fancy kitchenette on the other side of the room. Shaking your head, you settled onto the sofa he’d been sitting on and set the baby monitor on the marble coffee table. Soon, you found yourself observing the New York City lights, which seemingly went on forever from how high up in the Watchtower you were.

It wasn’t long before Bucky returned to you holding a steaming mug of tea in his vibranium hand and with a fluffy-looking blanket tucked under his flesh arm. Without a word, he set the mug on the coffee table next to the monitor, then unfolded the blanket and draped it over your shoulders, making you blink up at him in surprise.

“It gets chilly in here,” he stated nonchalantly, as though he didn’t just do one of the sweetest gestures anyone’s done for you in a long time. He then turned to grab the cup of tea and hand it to you. “Don’t want you to get cold.”

“Thank you, Buck,” you said softly as you took the mug from him, then took a sip and smiled at the warmth taking over your body while he sat next to you, exhaling. “Long day, amiright?”

Bucky chuckled, then glanced at you sideways and smirked.

“Something like that.”

“And yet, I think I’ve had worse days. Believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe it,” he responded, but then his smirk fell as his gaze dropped to the ground. “Pretty sure those worst days were because of me, too.”

God, you wanted to hate him. You desired to still be bitter with him over how he left after everything the two of you had been through together, but you couldn’t. Not when he said shit like that, and your heart shattered hearing it.

“Bucky, don’t,” you started, but didn’t get another word in before he spoke again.

“But it’s the truth, isn't it? You had a normal life before you knew me, Y/N. You’d never been kidnapped or injured by a psycho with a vengeance toward me and people I knew. You never had to deal with the consequences of my past or be put in danger because of it. That was why I left three years ago. It killed me to leave, Y/N. It really did. You have no idea how you saved me after meeting at that damn street market in Bucharest. Or how it felt when you were still willing to give me a chance after you found out about my past from reading a fucking file folder. I didn’t want to leave, but I felt I had to. When I left, you were safe. Sure, you hated me, but you were safe. But now, because I was selfish and thought I could reach out to you after everything that happened in that Void, you’re in danger again. And so is our daughter. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest felt heavy as you listened to every word he said and knew tears were streaming down your face as you watched him, but not a single part of you cared. Then, he finally looked back at you, and you were sure that if you hadn’t been sitting on the couch, you would’ve collapsed as you took in how utterly defeated he seemed. Slowly, you took a deep breath before reaching over to set your mug back on the table, then adjusted your position so that you’d be fully facing him.

“I’m getting real fucking sick of people thinking they get to dictate how I feel in these situations.”

“What?” Bucky asked incredulously. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I’m trying to do at all.”

“But, that’s what’s happening, Bucky,” you told him. “Intentional or not.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

You inhaled deeply again.

“Then listen while I explain. When I woke up in that facility in Russia all those years ago, I was terrified. I was suddenly thrust into a world of superheroes and villains that I would’ve never been able to comprehend otherwise, and it was all against my will. On top of that, one of these super-beings was a guy that I really liked, but he had an unimaginable past. Everything I read in that file should’ve scared me. Any sane person would read about the brainwashing and the metal arm, then rightfully not want anything to do with it all. But not me. No, I thought you deserved a chance to make a name for yourself that wasn’t what other people created for you. The man I read about in the file wasn’t the same as the guy who didn’t let me pay for produce and made me feel at home despite being in a foreign country. So, I gave him that chance. I don’t regret that decision either, James. I’ve never been afraid of being with you. That’s not going to start now.”

A multitude of emotions showed on Bucky’s face as he hung on to every word you said and looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Y/N, I-,” he started, but stopped himself. “But, Penny. If anything happened to you or her, I don’t know what I’d do. You’re both at risk because of me.”

“Do you not think I know that?” You asked, taking note of how you’d unconsciously shifted closer to him and that there wasn’t much space left between the two of you. “I’ve known for over 10 years, Buck. I know life with you isn’t normal and that it never will be. But, I don’t want normal if it means you’re not part of it. Am I worried about Penny’s safety, especially if some threat is arising now that you’re back around? Of course, I am. However, there isn’t anyone in this world I’d trust more to do everything in his power to ensure that she’s ok, no matter what, than the man sitting in front of me. Her dad.”

Bucky seemed to notice the limited space between the two of you, too, as your spiel came to an end and he gently pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you, Y/N. I never fucking stopped loving you. If someone is trying to get to you and Penny, they’re going to have to kill me to make it happen.”

You smiled subtly.

“I love you, Bucky. We’ll figure this out. We’ll be ok.”

“Together,” Bucky said, smiling too.

“Together,” you repeated. Then, while giving zero fucks about the consequences of your actions, you leaned forward and closed the minuscule gap remaining between the two of you as you crashed your lips against his.

Bucky responded instantly, hungrily, as his right hand reached up to cup your jaw and his left arm snaked around your waist to somehow bring you closer than you already were. The kiss deepened as you both adjusted to such a familiar, blissful feeling that the two of you had been deprived of for so long.

Smoothly, Bucky’s vibranium hand slid down from your waist to your butt and squeezed, letting you know that he craved you, but in a better position. You smirked against his lips, but didn’t break the kiss. The two of you continued heavily making out as you gripped the material at the chest of his long-sleeved shirt with both hands, using it as an anchor while you swung your left leg over his lap so that you’d be in a straddling position. Soon, both of his hands were on your waist while yours tugged at his hair. Bucky moaned against your mouth, and you couldn’t help but do the same as his right hand slithered under your shirt.

Then, a loud smash sounded from the kitchenette, startling you and Bucky.

You jumped so much from the disturbance that you toppled off of Bucky’s lap and onto the cushion next to him.

“For fuck sake,” Bucky grumbled as he helped you sit back up. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you responded, chuckling at what happened and feeling giddy at how your lips felt swollen as you smiled.

“Sorry!” A voice exclaimed, reminding you that someone else was present. You looked over to the kitchenette and saw an unfamiliar man with brown, shaggy hair looking embarrassed as he held up a box of Cheerios. “I just wanted a snack. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear.”

Bucky sighed.

“It’s alright,” he said calmly, although you could tell he was annoyed that the two of you were no longer making out. “Y/N, this is Bob. He’s also one of my… teammates.”

Bob waved awkwardly, but smiled genuinely.

“Hi, Y/N, nice to, uh, meet you. Yelena said Bucky had brought back a friend. I take it that’s you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Bob,” you replied, returning his smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Ava’s gonna be so happy to hear that you two are together,” Bob continued. “She and Walker had a bet going on about whether you guys were more than friends or not.”

“Great, I’m so glad my personal life provides entertainment for you all,” Bucky groaned, dramatically running a hand over his face and flopping his head against the back of the couch before looking at you again. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” you chuckled. Then, Yelena walked in.

“Bob, did you get something to eat?” She spoke, but stopped abruptly when her gaze landed on you and Bucky. She wasn’t subtle in the way she took in how close the two of you were, especially with the way your legs were draped over Bucky’s lap, and his left hand rested on your thigh. Soon, her face lit right up. “I knew it! I knew the two of you wouldn’t last long. There was too much unresolved sexual tension. Where’s Aelexi? He owes me twenty dollars.”

Yelena turned on her foot and exited the room as quickly as she had come in. Bob followed after her, mumbling a quick ‘have a good night’ to you and Bucky as he went.

After a moment of staring at the empty doorway, you and Bucky looked at each other again and burst out laughing.

“Oh, you’re in for it now with this crew,” Bucky said, smiling widely.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you responded as you leaned forward, then pecked his lips again. “Penny is going to love them.”

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beersangel · 22 hours ago

Text

warm enough ⋆˚౨ৎ ⋆.˚

⋆. 𐙚 ̊. During a late-night filming a paranormal investigation with sam and colby, things take an unsettling turn. shaken by what they experienced, what happens when y/n struggles to sleep alone and ends up in Matt’s room?

trigger warnings: pure fluff ig :3

matt sturniolo x reader <3

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“Oh fuck! My candle went out, shit shit shit-” I say as I kneel over and set it down quickly. Matt spawns next to me with a match he had been using as a toothpick, quickly lighting up my candle before the 10 seconds run out.

“I got you” Matt nods, making sure my candle is lit.

“Jesus Christ” Sam exclaims.

“Oh my god, my heart almost stopped, I have the worst reflexes ever” I blow out a laugh, my hand on my chest.

You can already guess where I am and what we’re doing. Somehow, Sam and Colby convinced me to tag along with them and my roommates and best friends Matt, Nick, and Chris to this investigation where we’re summoning a spirit called the Midnight Man.

“Thanks, Matt,” I say with a grin, nudging him as we walk side by side to the room next to the kitchen. We sit down in a circle and Sam introduces a new piece of equipment, a recorder.

Sam explains that each one of us is going to ask a question and wait 10 seconds for an answer from a spirit. We all nod along to the instructions, and as soon as he clicks the record button, each of us asks a question, leaving 10 seconds in between for answers.

And when we’re finally done, we listen to the recording again, and our hearts drop to our asses.

A scream.

A very clear scream.

And towards the end of the recording, a clear “GET OUT OF HERE” is heard, and I look towards Matt with wide eyes and a nervous smile.

The rest of the night is pure chaos. We leave Sam and Colby’s old house after finishing the ritual, and I’m still replaying the events of the night on the car ride home. It’s stupid, but it freaked me out.

Back home, we all bid each other goodnight and head to our rooms. I lay down in bed, thoughts of the night still replaying in my head.

I see a figment of my imagination in the corner of the room, a shadow, and I turn on my nightstand light quickly, heart beating fast. I sigh before throwing the covers off, opening my bedroom door, and padding downstairs to Matt’s room. I knock gently. No answer. I knock again and open the door slightly, peeking in. Matt turns in bed towards the door with squinted eyes.

“Y/N?” he says with a sleepy voice.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” I ask, still standing in the doorway.

Matt blinks a few times before answering, “Come here” he says, lifting the covers.

I shut his bedroom door and walk over to his bed, sliding beneath the lifted covers. He makes sure I’m covered before laying down on his back next to me.

“You okay?” he asks after a few beats of silence.

“Mhmm. I was just freaked out about what happened tonight” I say, turning my head to look at him.

“You haven’t come to my room at night in a while” he grins.

“Yeah, well, I stopped watching those scary videos I used to watch before bed” I laugh, adjusting myself so I’m facing him.

“I don’t know why you watch that creepy shit if you know it’ll have consequences later at night” he says.

“Okay, stop lecturing me. I don’t watch it anymore” I frown, and he laughs.

“I missed our sleepovers,” he smiles after a few beats of silence, now turning to face me.

“Yeah, me too” I say, smiling softly.

I move a little to adjust my position when my cold toes graze over Matt’s leg.

“Holy shit, Y/N!” he says as he jumps slightly.

“What!” I say, panicked, thinking he saw something behind me.

“Nothing, you idiot. Your icicles grazed my leg,” he exclaims with a small laugh.

“Matt!” I frown, hitting his chest. “You scared me, asshole,” I say.

“Ow! Why are you so cold?!” he says, holding my hand against his chest.

“It’s freezing in here!” I exclaim with a laugh.

“It’s not,” he argues.

“Yes it is.” I pull my hand from his grip, but he holds on.

“Jesus Christ, just come here” he says, tugging me closer with the hand he has a grip on, wrapping his arms around me to warm me up.

I let my forehead fall on his chest as I sigh. “You’re so warm. How are you so warm?” I say.

“It’s not me that’s warm, it’s you that’s freezing cold” he chuckles, rubbing my back to warm me up.

“It’s because your room is a literal freezer-” I start to argue.

“Shhhh, go to sleep,” he interrupts me, tangling his legs with mine to warm my cold feet up.

“But it’s literally-” I start.

“Y/N, close your eyes and count the sheep, c’mon” he cuts me off, making me burst out laughing.

“When have I ever closed my eyes and counted sheep to go to bed? You mistake me for Chris” I grin.

“He does do that, doesn’t he?” he chuckles.

“Yeah, he does” I smile, nuzzling my head into his chest.

I yawn, my eyes starting to get heavy.

“Night, scaredy cat” he murmurs into my hair.

“Goodnight, asshole” I say in a sleepy voice, and he chuckles.

I doze off to him rubbing my back, and I realize just how lucky I am to have him.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

author’s note: I haven’t written in a LONG while, hi tumblr I’ve missed u! anyway I love writing fluff so here u go! hope you enjoyed <3

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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eviemonroeer · 10 hours ago

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The Monroe Effect: Chapter 42

Set during Season 7, Episode 5 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.

Warnings: assumptions of cheating, canonical mentions of death and medical procedures

WC: 2.9 k

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, @antisocialfiore, @snowflames-world, @guiltypleassure243, @omgbrianab, @dizzybee03, and @secretmoonphantom

MASTERLIST

He knocked on the door that night while I was lying in bed. I had thankfully gotten Meghan back to sleep rather quickly and was staring up into the dark when he got to the door. I stayed quiet, pretending I was asleep. He tried a few times to get me to let him in, calling my name, saying he was sorry. But he eventually gave up and left me alone. I tossed and turned all night, never really truly falling asleep. That’s why I was up when the sun rose.

I got out of bed and did my morning routine. Meghan woke up after my shower, so I changed and nursed her before taking her downstairs. Corrine was already up and about working, so I sat Meghan in her highchair and grabbed a piece of toast. I kissed her head and said goodbye to Corrine, before I headed to County, purposefully leaving before Carter even woke up.

“Have you heard from him?”

Abby looked up at me from the chart in her hand, immediately knowing who I was talking about. “No. He’s not picking up at his hotel.” She paused. “Have you tried?”

“Once. But I didn’t want to push my luck since I knew you had probably already called.” This time I paused for a moment. “I heard about what happened with you guys. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

There was a weird, awkward tension between us. I hadn’t asked Carter about what happened between them at Doc Magoo’s that night, about what I saw or at least thought I saw. I was too scared of his answer. “Well.....I should get back to work.”

“Do you not like me?” I stopped at her question. “I mean, we seemed at least cordial when I was a med student. And I’ve seen parts of you only certain people have.” I couldn’t help but laugh. She was definitely right about that. “Is it Luka?”

“Oh, no. No.” I stuttered. “I mean kind of. I care about him and want to make sure he’s okay.” I paused and bit my lip. “You and Carter have been getting closer too. I saw you the other night at Doc Magoo’s. And I see you guys talking to each other a lot more lately.”

Her eyebrows shot up and I watched her face go through a myriad of expressions before it finally landed on understanding. “Oh. Oh, I see. Evie, Carter and I aren’t doing anything. He would never do that to you.” She paused, and I could see the gears turning to try and find the right way to say the next part to me. “Carter and I are friends and I’m.....helping him out. It’s not my place to tell you what we’re doing, but I promise we aren’t sneaking around behind your back.”

“Okay.” Was all I said, but tucked the information away for later. Abby looked like she was telling the truth; years of being a nurse helped me learn to read people. But now an even bigger mystery had opened up. “I’ll, uh, see you around.” I simply said, before returning back to admit. I tried to shake everything off, but it was hard.

“God, this board is a mess.” I groaned, looking up at the growing list of patients and their complaints.

“We’re backed up.” Randi said, moving papers. “I guess that’s what happens when one doctor doesn’t show up, and Peter Benton is in charge of the ER.”

“Dr. Benton’s in charge today?”

I turned to see Carter standing there, having finally arrived for his shift. “Yeah. By order of Dr. Romano.” Randi said, rolling her eyes. He nodded and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Hey Evie, we really need—”

“Here.” I told him, handing him the patient chart of the boy I just triaged. “Kid came in with a laceration to the hand. He’s in the suture room, needs stitches.”

“Evie, come on. Can we please just—”

“Cut looked pretty nasty. You should get in there.” I motioned my head down the hall, trying to convey in my face that I didn’t want to talk. Carter sighed and took the chart from me, before heading down the hall. I shook my head and took a minute before I turned to the board and put Carter’s initials by the patient’s name.

“Excuse me.” I turned, coming face to face with an older woman. “Excuse me, has my grandson, Trent Larson, been brought in?”

“Yes. Dr. Carter just went in to check him out and give him stitches.” I said, pointing my pen down the hall towards the suture room.

“I need to talk to Dr. Carter alone right now.”

“He’ll come out as soon as he’s seen your grandson.”

“No, I need to talk to him before he treats him.” She came closer to me and lowered her voice. “My grandson has HIV.”

My eyes went wide. The kid hadn’t disclosed that information when I triaged him. “He didn’t say anything when they brought him in.”

“He doesn’t know.”

My eyebrows felt like they shot up into my hairline. “Okay. Follow me. I’ll go get Dr. Carter.” I led her down the hall and had her wait while I peeked my head into the room. “Dr. Carter, can you step out for a second?”

“Yeah, after I suture this.” He said, preparing to put his gloves on.

“No, it's important.” I said, trying to convey some seriousness.

He sighed. “I'll be right back.” He told the boy. “Don't pick your nose.” He followed me out. “What?”

“The boy's grandmother. She wants to talk with you.

“Why don't you just bring her in?”

“No, no, she asked to see you alone.” I pulled him into the hall and gestured towards the woman before I walked back to admit. A few minutes later, Carter walked up to admit and grabbed the phone, riffling through a patient file.

“Thanks for catching me when you did.” He said, placing the phone to his ear.

“No problem.” I replied, trying to give him something resembling a smile.

Using my patients as an excuse, I left his orbit and fell back into the rush of the busy ER. I gave medicine, restocked the carts and closets, and helped some in triage. It was probably cowardly of me, staying away from him, not talking about what happened. But I was still mad and a part of me inside was saying I had the right of be mad, especially after everything that happened. But then, of course, there was the other part of me that hated being mean to him, screaming at me to go make things right; to be an adult and go talk. But the hospital was not the place to have this conversation. I couldn’t win and was definitely developing a bad headache.

Elizabeth pulled me in later to help with her and Mark’s heart patient they had brought in, so I tried to put in all my focus on that. I had ran to get a transducer tube for Elizabeth and on my way back to the trauma room, was stopped by Connie.

“Hey Evie, you’re headed back to trauma, right?” Connie asked.

“Yeah.”

“Give these test results to Carter, please. He’s with a patient and I have to change out four IVs.”

“Sure.” I took the report from her and sped my walking up back towards Trauma One. Thankfully Carter was outside in the hall, and I could do a quick pass off without talking to him. “Here.” I said, handing Carter the test results. “Lab results for an Emma Miller. Connie told me to give these to you.”

“Thanks Evie. Hey can we—”

“Can’t. Have to get them this transducer tube.”

“But—”

But I was already walking away into the trauma room. “Here’s the transducer tube.” I said, handing it to Elizabeth. We worked to get him stabilized, and despite things not looking to good in the beginning, he was coming back around by some miracle. “Take a deep breath.” Mark instructed as he listened through his stethoscope.

“MAP is 78 with the pump.” I told him.

“Is that good or bad?” The patient asked.

“It took you out of heart failure and got you off your breathing tube.” Mark replied, putting it back around his neck.

“Sats are up to 99.”

“Okay, let's get him on five liters, nasal cannula. Evie, why don't you grab a blood‐gas kit?” I nodded and went to the cabinet, finding the kit quickly.

“Where's Janet?” He asked as another nurse handed the cannula to Mark.

“She's trying to get a clerk from City Hall to come issue a marriage license.”

“That's crazy.”

“People in love do crazy things.”

“I wanted to wait for a transplant' so I could chase her down the aisle. I didn't want her to marry a cardiac cripple.”

“If you get a heart, she won't.”

“If one's available. If the tissues match. How long can I last on this pump?”

“Couple of weeks.”

“Pretty lousy odds.”

“They were worse when you were having a heart attack, and the chopper was going down.”

I stayed back, listening to the two men talk, before I stepped in and checked his blood gas. Things were looking okay, at least for right now and the room became less filled. I monitored his breathing and kept track of his vitals, while Mark went to go find the man’s fiancée and the hospital priest. I was in the middle of checking his IV and medication drip when the trauma room next door burst open, and chaos began. I looked over, seeing Kerry working on what looked like a teenager. Chuny walked in, going to grab something from the cabinet.

“What’s going on?”

“Poor kid. Carter’s patient from earlier. Got hit by a car.” She found what she was looking for and went back to the other room. I followed her and caught something out of the corner of my eye.

Carter was standing outside the neighboring trauma, staring in, looking helpless to do anything.

It was crazy to think I was attending a wedding in the ER. But crazier things had happened. I smiled at the patient and his bride as they listened to the chaplain go through the ceremony. It wouldn’t be legal, but I knew to them it still mattered. As he started talking about union and joy, Carter walked in from next door, his face showing how broken he felt. He made quick eye contact with me before going to the cabinet and pulling out a sterile drape. I looked through the window and saw the nurse disconnect the vent tube. The poor kid didn’t make it.

I quietly excused myself and followed Carter. I waited by the door as he carefully laid the drape over the deceased boy’s body. Chuny walked a sobbing girl into the room, an arm securely around her. “You can stay as long as you want, okay?” She told her before turning to leave.

“Emma, I am so sorry.” Carter told her as he adjusted the drape, his voice so sincere.

“Get out of here.” The girl hissed.

“Emma.”

“It’s your fault.”

Carter looked down at the boy before he nodded and left the room. I stayed behind a moment, watching as the poor girl walked up to the side of the gurney. I took a deep breath and followed after Carter, seeing him sign and drop off a chart at admit before going into the lounge. Kerry looked like she was ready to follow him; she had to have noticed his demeanor.

“Dr. Weaver.” I called out. She turned to me. “I got him.” The red head nodded and gave me a small smile.

I walked into the lounge and stood by the door as he took off his lab coat and hung it in his locker. “Hi.” I said, my voice small. He turned back to me, his jacket in his hand, ready to throw it on. “I know I haven't been the nicest today." I paused. "Can we talk? Please? Maybe go get dinner for once without our little shadow?”

Carter sighed as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his bag. “I have a meeting at 9.”

“Then we’ll be quick.” I paused. “You’ll make it. I promise.”

“Uh, yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Great. I just need to clock out and we can go.” I turned, but paused and looked back at him. “Please don’t leave. Though I wouldn’t blame you for the payback.”

He scoffed and put on a small smile. “I won’t. I promise.”

I don’t know if he did it on purpose or accident, but he took us to the burger place we had gone to on our first date. As he ran inside to get the food, I couldn’t help but remember that day. Normally, I was a plain burger girl, just cheese and maybe a couple of condiments. But being 11 weeks pregnant had made me insatiable for my cravings, because those were the only things I could stomach at the time. We had sat in the car while we ate, two massive cheeseburgers with all the toppings in front of me along with fries and a milkshake. And he had watched me eat every bit of it and didn’t judge me. Just smiled and offered me part of his meal when somehow I wasn’t full.

I sighed at the memory as I leaned against the window, looking outside at the world. The car door opened and I jumped a little, turning to him. “I hope I got it right.” He said, sliding into the driver’s seat and handing me the takeout bag while he balanced a drink tray and closed the door, locking it for good measure. I pulled out the food slowly. Three burgers, two of which were for him, a giant fry to share, and lots of ketchup packets. “I hope you’re okay with vanilla.” He added, handing me one of the cups. “Sadly, they didn’t have chocolate.”

“Thanks.” I said, and took it from him. He set up his own food in his lap as I pulled back the paper on my burger. Plain, but with cheese and some condiments. I couldn’t help but smile. He remembered. We ate in silence for a while, our hands occasionally brushing as we reached into the center console for the fries. When I was done, I crumbled up the paper that had been around my burger and put it in the bag, cleaning up before I finally turned to him.

“Are you and Abby together?” I asked, looking directly at him. He tensed and slowly swallowed the bite of burger he had just taken. “I saw you together at Doc Magoo’s and you’ve been sneaking around talking a lot. If it’s true, can you just please tell me.” I braced myself as I watched him put down his second burger and wipe his face.

“Abby is my sponsor.”

“Oh.” His sponsor. His NA sponsor. I hadn’t expected that. “Oh okay.”

“Are you and Luka a thing?” He asked, looking right at me this time.

“No.”

He nodded his head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I-I just......” He paused and closed his eyes. “I just don’t know how to do this. I want to be able to just fall back into how it was with you. I want to be your friend and your partner again. But I’ve messed everything up.” He paused. “I know you don’t trust me. Especially with Meghan.”

“Carter....”

“I should have told you where I was going. I’m sorry I didn’t. And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” I reached over and grabbed his hand. “And I trust you, I do. It’s just going to take some time for us to find a comfortable place again.” I reached up with my other hand and cupped his face, using my thumb to stroke his cheek. “But I’m willing to work on it if you are.”

He nodded and let out a deep breath. “Yes. I want that. Badly.”

“Then we’ve got to start talking to each other. Not keeping things in.”

“I’m sorry.” He said again as he pulled up to his meeting.

“This is the second time you’ve apologized since dinner. I forgive you.”

He nodded and put the Jeep in park. The car doors shut loudly as we both got out. I walked over to him and crossed my arms. Carter looked like he didn’t know what to say, so I cleared my throat. “I’m gonna go find somewhere to sit while I wait for you to finish. How long does this normally last?”

“About an hour.”

“Ok, great. I’ll pick you up right out here.” I gently squeezed his arm before turning to get in the driver’s side.

“Would you...... would you want to go in with me?”

I stopped getting into the car and turned around. “I-I thought that wasn’t allowed.”

“Well, technically it’s an open meeting, so anyone can come.” Carter said putting his hands in his pockets. “But, if-if you don’t want to, I understand.”

“Uh, no, um.” I stuttered, not willing to let another chance to connect slip through my fingers. “I’ll come with you. Just let me grab my purse.” I turned back to the car and reached over the seat, grabbing my bag. I slung it over my shoulder and closed the Jeep. When I turned back, Carter had his hand out. I looked down at it and then up to him, a sense of pleading on his face. I gave him a small smile and took his hand.

As we started walking, I felt him squeeze my hand, almost like reassurance that I was actually there.

#er #john carter #john carter er #noah wyle #original character #john carter x female character #dr john carter #john truman carter #john truman carter iii #john carter x reader #er nbc #er 1994 #er tv show

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akanemnon · 3 days ago

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I guess this question is important too... FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

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catboyidia · 2 years ago

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how i think asgzc handles being/behaves while sick

(except im actually projecting because im really sick and miserable and mildly (very) delirious)(also this was written mostly in the short period between like 30 min fever dream plagued naps… so its all over the place and don’t expect accurate characterization)

angeal: hes that one motherfucker that can have a high fever and will still insist on doing everything, he could be on his deathbed and still trying to do stuff and care for everyone else until everyone else literally forces him to stop and rest, and even then he will still try to downplay his illness and worry about everyone else

sephiroth: realistically he doesn’t get sick but like… we’re ignoring that… he’s absolutely pitiful but without even meaning to be, like he’s perfectly fine being alone and letting it run its course but he ends up just looking so pitiful that genesis and angeal can’t resist him, they won’t leave him alone and end up trying to comfort sephiroth in any way possible, and upon trying to cuddle him, sephiroth will immediately cling to them, betraying his original ability to be alright alone

genesis: gets super clingy and whiny and refuses to let sephiroth or angeal leave him alone, inevitably forcing them to get sick with him, and hes total crybaby the entire time, needing reassurance about everything he has ever done and will ever do because for some reason being really sick makes him reflect on himself which makes him emotional and regret everything he’s ever done and fear that he isn’t good enough for sephiroth and angeal, all the emotional baggage and insecurities come flooding out until he cries himself to sleep again, wakes up from the strangest fever dream, clings to whoever is closest and the cycle continues, only breaking every so often when he forces sephiroth and angeal to feed him or they force genesis to take medicine, all the necessities ect.

zack: whiny clingy and needy, will cling to cloud like his life depends on it and uses cloud as a living teddy bear, unable to be left alone because if anyone even mentions leaving him alone for a second he immediately starts looking like a kicked puppy and clings on even tighter, desperate to be comforted, and needs to be distracted often from the fact that he is sick or else he will complain about how shitty he feels 24/7, also he will throw a fit and refuse any medication like a child until angeal either shoves a pill down his throat like a dog or crushes it up and hides it in some kind of food�� also like a dog… angeal basically has to employ every dog medicine giving tactic

cloud: tries to isolate and let the illness do its thing, not wanting to get anyone else sick, and also not really wanting anyone else to see him sick and think he’s weak because he thinks every little thing, including unavoidable things like getting sick, will make him seem weak, but zack refuses to leave him alone, trying to comfort cloud in any way possible, trying to tend to every single one of clouds needs and constantly makes sure cloud is okay, although cloud tries to push zack away because he doesn’t want zack to get sick, plus unfortunately zack can get a bit stressful and be a bit of a pain in the ass to handle at times

#… maybe i projected really hard on one of them in particular… no one will ever guess who…#the answer is genesis and part of it is actually based off of a specific time i got sick as a kid #i am miserable and feel super shitty and cant do much so im doing what i can… making a questionable post i probs wont remember later :)#but that kinda seems like part of the fun!#unleash it and let others determine how much sense your half asleep sick fever dream brain makes #im not thinking straight at all i’ve been sick for a few days already so im slightly better now but not enough to think right yet #but then i also get to figure it out and make sense of it when im better enough to think :)#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #asgzc #angeal hewley #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #zack fair #cloud strife

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sunni-stuff · 8 months ago

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Part 4

Soap’s eyebrows lifted with a curious glint in his eye as he looked from you to Adira, a playful grin edging onto his face. He leaned in, never one to miss a chance at a bit of friendly prodding.

“So… you’re married?” he asked, his tone as light as his smirk.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Haha! No, I’m not.” You gave Adira’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze, glancing down at her with a smile that softened every edge on your face.

Soap tilted his head, pretending to be shocked. “A bonnie lass like yerself? Unmarried?” he teased, hand on his chest as though it were a crime.

“Guess I’m a rare breed,” you replied with a grin, chuckling as you shifted Adira’s hand in yours.

Soap’s face lit up at your response, as if he’d just been given the most interesting bit of news he’d heard all week. He shot Ghost a quick look, but Ghost was still watching Adira, his gaze softened with something unreadable.

Meanwhile, Gaz wasn't fascinated by Soap's ability to make anyone at ease, the man was a cassanova. Roach watched Adira with curiosity, as though piecing together a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed until now. Price stood off to the side, arms crossed, silently observing the whole scene.

“If you aren’t married, how’d you get this little one?” Soap pushed, grinning as he wiggled a playful finger in Adira’s direction.

Adira’s gaze snapped up from Ghost to the man with the funny hair, her little brow furrowing as she studied Soap with a mix of curiosity and caution. She leaned into your leg, clearly wary, but her attention stayed on the finger waving in front of her.

You chuckled, brushing a hand over Adira’s head to reassure her. “Long story,” you replied, smiling. “Let’s just say she was an unexpected blessing.”

Soap laughed softly, glancing at Ghost with a gleam in his eye. “Ah, aye, life’s full of surprises, eh?”

Ghost, who had been studying Adira in silence, clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably as Soap’s words hit a little too close to home.

“I used to be really wild back in the day,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, a hint of nostalgia coloring your tone as you thought back to those not-so-distant years.

Soap wasn’t quite done yet, though. “Does the father know?” he threw a quick glance at Ghost, who had just risen from his crouched position. A new tension ran through Ghost’s frame, his stance rigid, as if the question had struck something he’d rather not confront.

You hesitated, a shadow crossing your expression before you shook your head. “No, he doesn’t… He, uh, probably has no idea.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering from you to Adira, who was absorbed in her drink, unaware of the intensity surrounding her. His shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, he looked as though he wanted to speak—but whatever words he had caught in his throat, locked behind his silence.

"I see, well. I'm sorry if I took up your time, ma’am, you've been a nice chat," Soap said, his voice softening with a touch of politeness, his grin still present but more reserved now.

You nodded, giving Adira’s hand a gentle tug as you continued on your way, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound accompanying your steps. The blue sky stretched above, peaceful, serene. As you walked, Adira turned her head, glancing back at Ghost one final time. She refused to let go of her cup, her small fingers gripping it tightly, but she lifted her other hand in a small, hesitant wave. "Bye-bye," she whispered, her voice soft but sweet.

Ghost’s gaze lingered, but he didn’t move. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of things churning behind those eyes.

Price let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and facing Ghost. “So... what’s the plan?” he asked, his tone both blunt and expectant, clearly waiting for some kind of direction. The rest of the team stood in silence, watching the exchange unfold.

Ghost didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained on you and Adira, watching you both disappear further down the street, the distance growing with each step. The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound in the quiet winter air. He didn’t even notice Price's voice until the man spoke again, closer now, with a slight edge to his tone.

"Ghost, talk to me. What’s the plan here?”

Finally, Ghost shifted, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched as he turned to face Price. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something caught between anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing regret.

"I don't know," he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips. "I wasn't expecting this. Hell, I didn't even know she existed." His voice was low, strained, but there was a quiet honesty to it, as if he was trying to process something that didn’t make sense.

Soap stepped closer, his expression serious for once. "What now, Ghost? We can help. But you need to tell us what's going on."

Ghost finally looked away, his attention drawn to the ground, his fingers twitching like he was trying to find something to hold onto. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. "All I know is... I saw her. And it hit me like a fucking truck."

Roach, always one to stay in the background, spoke up. “Maybe it’s time to talk to her, yeah? Figure out where to go from here?”

Price’s eyes narrowed, his stern gaze shifting to Ghost, assessing him. “And what exactly do you want from us? You’re in this, whether you like it or not.”

Ghost let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “But I can’t just let her slip away.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the weight of the situation settled in. Then, slowly, Ghost nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Just… not now. Not here.” His eyes flicked toward the street where you had disappeared, and something in his gaze softened, just for a moment, before the mask fell back into place.

Price gave a single nod. "Alright. But we stick together on this. You’re not doing it alone, Ghost."

The team stood together for a moment longer, the wind howling through the alley, before they slowly began to move, their steps trailing off into the winter evening. The silence that hung between them was thick with uncertainty. No one knew what came next, but they knew one thing for sure: whatever happened, they were in this together.

A month passed, the team giving Ghost the space he needed to process the whirlwind that had hit him. They all knew this was something he had to handle on his own terms, but that didn't mean the questions didn't linger. What did it mean for the future? What did he want? The answers were still unclear, even to Ghost himself.

But Soap, ever the persistent one, wasn’t content to let things sit in limbo. He knew Ghost, knew how his mind worked, and that sometimes the best way to breakthrough was to take small steps. And if that meant subtly nudging you into the picture, then so be it. He’d always been good at this—at slipping in the background, making things happen without anyone noticing.

So, Soap started to "accidentally" run nto you. At the park, when you were out with Adira, he'd make sure to be in the same place at the same time, offering a casual greeting. It always started simple, harmless, with a nod or a small comment about the weather. Then, of course, there was that coffee shop where you'd gone to get hot chocolate for Adira.

The first time he "bumped" into you there, it was nothing more than a quick exchange. A question about the drink, a comment on the cold weather, just the usual small talk. But Johnny's natural charm and ease made you relax, and made the conversation flow without much effort. Over time, those small moments grew. You'd smile when you'd see him, and he'd greet you with the same friendly energy, always leaving you feeling at ease. No pressure, just casual.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Johnny began to warm you up to the idea of him. It wasn't much at first—a smile here, a shared laugh there—but he knew what he was doing. He wasn't pushing, just letting the connection build at its own pace. The more you saw him, the more comfortable you felt. The more you talked, the more you found yourself enjoying the interactions, even if they were brief.

One evening, Johnny sat beside you on the park bench, casually leaning back as Adira bounced around in the snow, her laughter filling the crisp air. The sound was contagious, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, watching her with a soft smile.

"So, me and a couple friends are meeting up at Leslie's this weekend," Johnny said, his tone light but with a hint of something more. "Would you be interested?"

You snorted, expecting the usual joke or teasing, but when you glanced over at him, his expression was far more serious than you anticipated. For a moment, you considered dismissing it. After all, Leslie's? A pub? That was a far cry from the cozy routine you’d built for yourself with Adira.

“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I fit the scene."

Johnny shrugged nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that playful grin of his. “Please. It'll just be like old times.”

Your mind immediately wandered, trying to understand what he meant by that. What was it about old times that Johnny thought might appeal to you? You didn’t exactly have a wild past to cling to. Sure, you’d had your moments, but those felt long behind you now.

Still, something about the invitation lingered. A night out... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You hadn’t done anything for you in a while. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to let someone else take care of the night for once. No worrying about Adira, no responsibilities for a few hours. Just some fun, whatever that meant now.

You hesitated, looking down at Adira as she made another snow angel, oblivious to the conversation happening nearby. She’d be fine, right? And you could leave if things felt uncomfortable.

“Alright,” you finally said, meeting Johnny’s gaze with a reluctant but genuine smile. "I'll join you. But only if it’s not as crazy as you’re making it sound."

Johnny’s grin widened, and you could tell he was already mentally planning the evening, no doubt with some plan to ease you in without overwhelming you. He stood up, dusting off the snow on his pants as he glanced back at you.

“Deal. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember.”

You just hoped he wasn’t overselling it.

The weekend seemed to arrive so fast, and here you were, standing outside your apartment, nervously adjusting your blue blouse and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the type of outfit you thought would fit a night out, but it was the best you could do. Most of your wardrobe these days consisted of comfortable clothes, ones that could be easily changed or wiped clean in case Adira had another of her toddler mishaps. Sexy or flirty clothes were a distant memory, tucked away in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust.

Adira stood in the doorway, clutching her little stuffed bear to her chest, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. The sight hit you harder than you expected. You knelt down in front of her, your heart sinking at the sight of her teary eyes. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, I promise,” you said, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out to her with a reassuring smile.

Adira sniffled, her tiny hand coming up to rub her eyes, but she didn’t break her stare. You held out your pinky, the gesture as familiar as breathing. Slowly, she reached out, her small finger wrapping around yours with the same trust she always had. The connection was brief, but it felt like a promise, one that you hoped would calm her.

"I won't be out long," you said softly to the friend you’d left with her. "And you, be good for Auntie too." The last part was directed at Adira, though the words felt bittersweet on your tongue.

Adira nodded, but her face still held that sadness, that uncertainty of what the night would bring without you.

Standing up, you ruffled her hair and offered a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just a little fun for Mama, okay?”

Her small nod didn’t do much to ease the tightness in your chest, but you turned and gave her one last look before stepping outside. The cool evening air wrapped around you, a contrast to the warmth of the apartment behind you, but you pushed the feeling away. Tonight was for you, however strange that sounded.

Locking the door behind you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t just any night out. It was a night with Johnny, with his friends, with the possibility of reconnecting to parts of yourself you’d set aside for so long.

Arriving outside the establishment, the familiar hum of chatter and music filled the night air, but what caught your attention first was Johnny standing outside, leaning against the brick wall, checking his watch. The moment his eyes met yours, they lit up, his expression shifting from casual to something almost... eager.

“Well, well, look at you,” he said with that trademark wink of his, his gaze raking over you with a genuine appreciation that made you feel suddenly self-conscious. “You clean up well.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. It was hard to resist the easy charm of Johnny.

“Let’s just hope I survive this night,” you muttered, though the words were more for yourself than him. You weren’t sure what to expect tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things might not go as smoothly as Johnny seemed to think.

Johnny chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’m sure you will. Now, let’s get going before I change my mind.”

With that, you fell into step beside him, the weight of your hand at your side suddenly feeling strange in the cool night air. He led you toward the door, and as you entered the dimly lit space of the bar, your eyes scanned the room.

It was bustling, a mix of regulars and newcomers, all seeking solace or company for the night. It smelled of beer, whiskey, and the faintest hint of fried food, a familiar and welcoming kind of atmosphere. But as soon as you stepped inside, your nerves shot back up again. You tried not to let the nerves show, but they were there, itching under your skin.

What you didn’t notice, as you made your way to the bar, was the group inside. Ghost, Price, Gaz, Roach—quietly observing, waiting for their chance to either speak to you or simply let you slip through their fingers once more. Ghost’s eyes tracked you the moment you stepped inside, and there was a hesitation in his gaze, something raw and almost pained that flickered in and out.

For a moment, Ghost didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched you, aware that the moment he’d been dreading—he had finally stumbled into. Your gaze met his across the room, the flicker of recognition passing between you both. But that was it. You didn’t remember. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what he was to you.

Approaching the bar, you saw that Johnny was already leaning in, chatting with the bartender, exchanging friendly banter. You barely heard the words, only caught up in the feeling that something was different. Something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced back at the table where those men sat. They weren’t talking, but their eyes were all trained on you, as if waiting for something to happen.

Your heart raced without explanation. Ghost’s eyes—those eyes—stayed locked on you. He didn’t know how to approach, how to change what had already seemingly been set in stone. What was he supposed to say? What was the plan now that you were here, so close? God, why the fuck did johnny do this.

Johnny leaned toward you again, a soft smile curling his lips. “You good, love?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the uneasy tension brewing in your chest. “Just... getting used to being out.”

Johnny winked again, oblivious to the chaos of emotions swirling within you. “It’s all good. Let’s have some fun tonight, yeah?”

Ghost’s fist clenched involuntarily under the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this distance, this silent acknowledgment of his role, or how long he could ignore what it meant to see you here now.

“You’ll fit right in,” Johnny said, though there was a hint of something deeper behind his words. “Just a bunch of mates enjoying a drink, nothing crazy.” Johnny leads you over to the table, you expected to be met with… well you didn't quite know what.

Price leaned back in his seat, cigar in hand, a soft smile on his weathered face as he regarded you with a raised brow. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

"Neither did I," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile and doing your best to ignore the gnawing feeling that lingered when you looked at him. You hadn’t quite expected this part of the evening.

“I’m just here for a drink, nothing more,” you said, looking over at Johnny was getting comfortable in his chair.

“Well, pull up a seat, love,” Price said, motioning to the empty spot next to him. “We’re all friends here.”

You hesitated but made your way over, perching yourself on the seat next to him. The sound of the glass being slid toward you, the clink of ice against glass, broke through the chatter around you. Your nerves buzzed as you focused on the drink in front of you, trying to ignore the sudden realization of just how different this was from the quiet, routine life you had at home with Adira.

“Enjoy yourself,” Price said with an air of casual amusement, leaning back in his chair. “This is all new for you, isn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to admit just how out of place you felt in the moment. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of whiskey warming you from the inside out.

You laugh lightly, a bit awkwardly, trying to shake off the nerves that gnawed at you. "Yeah, this all a bit... newish. I haven't been out like this in years honestly," you admit, taking a deep breath and glancing around the bar. The warmth of the space was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, but the sight of the men made you feel more like a fish out of water than ever.

Johnny claps you on the back with an easy grin, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “These are my mates. Price, Kyle, Gary, and Simon," he introduces with a flourish, motioning to each man in turn.

You give them all a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of them just yet. There was something about the way they carried themselves, all standing a little apart from the crowd, that made it clear they were more than just regulars at the pub. But you didn’t have time to focus too much on that right now. You were trying to just survive the night.

Price, who looked a bit older than the rest, nods at you, his gaze thoughtful, almost cautious. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a tone that is polite but distant, as though he’s waiting for something, some sign.

Kyle, as Johnny had called him��gives you a friendly nod, a playful glint in his eyes, but there's a strange sharpness to his look that you can’t quite place. “Pleasure," he says, offering you a tight smile.

Gary simply gives you a quick but sincere nod. His eyes linger on you just long enough for you to catch a flicker of interest before he looks away.

And then there’s Simon. His presence, as always, is quieter, more intense. He’s sitting in the middle, arms crossed, his gaze fixed directly on you. You can feel the weight of it, though. It’s impossible not to. There was something you couldn't place with him though you couldn’t see too well under the dim light.

You try to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. “Nice to meet you all," you reply, your voice warmer than you feel.

Johnny, oblivious to the awkwardness in the air, slaps the bar and gives a nod. “Alright, drinks all around, yeah? Let’s get this party started!” he declares, pulling the group into the rhythm of the night.

As the revelry began your stomach churns slightly, a sense of unease still lingering despite the distraction. You knew something was off, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the men—it was the way Simon’s gaze lingered on you, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for something. It unsettled you, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Johnny, seemingly oblivious to your tension, slides a drink toward you. “First round’s on me," he grins, the clink of glass against the table snapping you back to the present. "Here’s to a good night.”.

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the nerves that still clung to you. This was supposed to be a night out, after all. A chance to shake off the past, to let loose just a little. You couldn’t let the weight of everything pull you under before you even tried. What would be the point if you didn’t at least try and enjoy yourself?

Shaking the tension from your shoulders, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of alcohol easing the knot in your stomach just slightly. The guys were chatting among themselves, Johnny’s laughter cutting through the low hum of the bar as he joked with Kyle. Price was listening intently, nodding along while Gary seemed content to let the others talk, his eyes occasionally flicking to you, though his gaze didn’t linger long.

And then there was Simon.

His presence loomed even when he wasn’t speaking, his broad frame leaning against the bar just slightly, face half hidden by the shadows. You caught his eyes for a split second, the intensity of his stare making your pulse hitch. You quickly looked away, focusing on your drink, your nerves creeping back up despite the effort to push them aside.

You could feel his gaze on you, though, like a weight pressing against your back. You tried not to let it show, tried not to acknowledge how his proximity seemed to pull at something inside you, but it was impossible to ignore. There was a pull, something in the air, but you couldn’t quite grasp it.

Sighing inwardly, you turned your attention back to the others. Just enjoy yourself, you remind yourself again. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of it.

Johnny clinked his glass against yours, a grin on his face. “Here’s to not letting the night pass us by,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile back, lifting your glass.

“Cheers,” you said, the warmth of the alcohol giving you just the nudge you needed to ease into the evening. For now, you’d ignore the tight feeling in your chest. You’d enjoy yourself.

But the eyes that lingered on you would remain, whether you were ready for them or not.

You pushed your chair back with more force than necessary, the scrape of it against the floor loud in the otherwise quiet bar. The conversation still echoed in your ears, but your focus had been on the man, Simon, for the past half hour. His silence had become suffocating, every glance he cast in your direction feeling like it held some hidden meaning. You couldn't quite place it, but something was off about him. His eyes, cold and intense, had followed you too much, made you second guess every word you’d said.

"Im... gonna go powder my nose," you muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else. You didn’t wait for a response, the words barely out of your mouth before you were already making your way across the room, past the low hum of idle chatter and the clink of glasses.

While you were in the bathroom, the entire team turned their attention towards Ghost, each of them sizing him up, starting with Soap.

"What is wrong with you?" Soap asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"What?" Simon blinked, genuinely confused.

"Mate, you've been gawking at her all night," Gaz added, raising an eyebrow, his voice teasing but laced with concern.

"Shit. Are you serious?" Simon muttered, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze didn't stray far from where you had just disappeared.

Roach, leaning back casually with his drink in hand, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's like you’ve been stuck in a staring contest with her since she walked in."

Price, who had been watching quietly, shook his head with a resigned sigh. He snuffed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray, eyes narrowing as he met Simon's gaze. "If you scared her off, I doubt you’ll get another chance, lad."

Simon’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t realized how obvious it had been, but now that the team was calling him out on it, he felt the heat rise in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but the pull to look at you, to remember what had sparked your connection all those years ago had been almost magnetic.

“Alright, alright,” Soap teased, leaning in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just don't burn a hole in her head.”

“Shut up,” Simon muttered, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse.

Price shared a look with the rest of the team, a silent understanding passing between them. While Soap might have been the one to set this whole thing in motion, it didn't mean the others didn't have contingencies in place.

Soap got up first, stretching a bit. “Gonna make sure no one's tried to get in my car,” he said with a casual tone.

“I’ll come with you,” Gaz chimed in, already pushing himself up from his seat and following Soap toward the door.

A minute later, Roach also stood, excusing himself without a word, and then Price followed suit, his movements deliberate. “I’m gonna make sure they’re not up to anything,” he said with a knowing glance.

With everyone out of the immediate area, the bar suddenly felt quieter, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. It took Ghost only a second for it all to click—he had been set up. Without thinking, he bolted from his seat, rushing outside just in time to catch the taillights of Soap's car disappearing down the street.

He cursed under his breath, but before he could make another move, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen. There, in simple words from Price:

“Good luck.”

Ghost stood still for a moment, phone in hand, as the weight of the situation hit him. His heart thudded in his chest. This was it. There was no turning back now.

By the time you returned to the table, you felt a bit more at ease. The night out wasn’t all that bad… it was just that Johnny had some weird taste in friends. Well, mostly the tall one. You couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to have left, a pit forming in your stomach at the thought of being ditched.

You let out a quiet sigh, about to gather your things and head out when your phone lit up in your purse. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Johnny.

"Emergency, looks like one of the beers wasn't that good, poor Kyle threw up."

You paused, reading the message again, a small smile tugging at your lips. Aww… nevermind. At least they hadn’t forgotten about you after all.

"Hope he's okay." You replied quickly, grabbing the straps of your bag when suddenly a hand landed on top of yours.

You looked up, meeting the intense gaze of Simon. Seriously? You couldn’t help but think. They took everyone but this guy?

You forced a smile, trying to pull your hand away, but Simon’s grip was firm, not unkind. “Look, I had a decent time, but I have to go—”

“Just a minute,” he interrupted, his voice low, steady, almost pleading. There was something about the way he said it that made you pause, something different than the usual small talk.

"Fine." The word slipped out before you could process it, and you cursed yourself inwardly. Really? You just agreed to stay with the guy who hadn’t stopped staring since you met him. You sat back down, and he mirrored you, settling across the table.

Silence stretched between you, his intense gaze unwavering. He didn’t so much as blink, and you couldn’t help but feel more unsettled by the second.

What the hell is his deal?

“Look, if you're just going to be a creep, I don't think I want to mee—"

“Do you remember Armed Forces Day?” His voice cut through your words, quiet but resolute.

Okay, this took all day, I wanted to give you all something long to read incase I disappear for finals (which I might)

Reblogs appreciated!!!

TAGLIST: @nijiru @livinggxd3adgirl @skylarmitchell @lunamoonbby @pagesfalling @love-kha1 @thychuvaluswife @dinonuggetsworld @serafina-nyx @imttryi @armycaratlover @mulletmcghee @jajouska @sgreer123123 @gaida-511 @uhenivid @maluvilela @cosmicbreathe @natashamea18 @fucknuggets420 @dreamygirli3 @skzthinker @viecyi @drip-from-kitchen-sink @instantdinosaurwitch @xbirdiex @too-pretty-to-live @koibleufish @lahniu @lostintransist @famouscattale @secretcheesecakenacho @guyser @allixamour @kihyuns-military-wife @cray0ngutz @jaxz21 @singshoutshaxx @plk-18 @strawberrygato @soaplickerrr @hizzielover @bvinnyll @pawnthedice @viennakarma @forgottensomewhere @i-love-ptv @tachiara @n-y-x04 @oniiloma @vmaxis @allllium @ninikrumbs @thatpersonnamedrook @qetigasitashvili05

WOWWW LOOK AT ALL THESE NAMES. Thank you all so much for the support!! Im sorry if i missed any, I will update if I noticed any missing or comment on those who's tags didnt go through!

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #sunshine sunni #singlemom!reader

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ranoutofficssoiwritemyown · 9 months ago

Text

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument

love and deepspace

characters: Zayne, Sylus (pt2 here pt3 here)

note: they might be a little mischaracterized so bear with me.

Zayne

Usually, arguments with Zayne don’t get this heated. There was no yelling, not on his part at least, but he could be really cold with his words when he wanted to be. Not that you were any better. Some things you said hurt him to no end. So you came up with a decision - to sleep on a couch tonight. To be honest, it was more because to be petty, than not wanting to spend a night beside him. You gathered your pillow and blanket and got comfortable on the couch, which made Zayne sigh out loud when he entered the room.

“What is this?”

You turned your back to him as an answer. Another sigh comes out of his mouth. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you acting like a brat doesn’t ease anything at all.

“I know you’re mad, dear but is this necessary?”

No answer.

“Alright”

He left the room and before you could convince yourself that you didn’t care he was back with a blanket of his own and took a seat in an armchair. You turn your head towards him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I guess we’re not sleeping in bed tonight”

“I’m not. You can go”

“I believe I didn’t stutter”

You scoffed and turned around again.

“suit yourself”

Minutes pass and sleep doesn’t come to you. Whether it’s because of an uncomfortable couch or an absence of his arms around you is hard to say, but after turning around thousands of times and still not being able to sleep is frustrating.

Finally, Zayne had enough of watching your struggle.

“How about we go to bed?”

“No” came your response after a second of hesitation. With a small amused smile on his face, he hovered over the couch.

“What do you say… I take you to bed and you can curse me out for it tomorrow?”

You shifted a little but didn’t answer, which made his smile widen. He gathered you in his arms and your lack of objection was all he needed to take you to your room and tucking you in bed. Even though you seemed to warm up he didn’t know how far he could push you, so kneeling beside the bed to be on your eye level he started:

“If you still need space I can-”

“Stay”

He smiled at you tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Okay”

He got up and kissed your forehead before slipping in beside you and pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry..." you mutter

"Shh, we'll talk about it tomorrow... but I'm sorry too"

You smile a little. You two will sort this out tomorrow.

Sylus

What Sylus says, goes around. His word is the law. This is what he’s used to. That's how it's always been.

Then you came into his life and even though he’s still in charge of how things go in the N109 zone, you just need to say the word and everything will be how you like it. No questions, no hesitation. He would give you the world if you so much as whispered the need. Whatever you want, whatever you need, he will make it happen.

Unless, when it comes to your safety. Now don’t get me wrong. Sylus knows you can defend yourself and then some. But when it comes to the N109 zone, there are things Sylus knows better than you. Additionally, The fact that you can be reckless in your battles does nothing to help ease his worries.

That was the reason for the heated argument tonight. Sylus with his harsh words and snarky remarks always finds a way to infuriate you. So you two go on and on for half an hour now and none of you seems to back down. You storm off to your room and take your things to get comfortable on the couch. However, on your way out Sylus blocks your way. He raises an eyebrow at the blanket and pillow in your arms.

“Now, what exactly do you think you are doing, sweetie?”

“move”

“I asked you a question”

“I’m not sleeping beside you- Sylus” you exclaim as he hoists you over his shoulder. you punch and scratch his back but to no avail.

“Careful with your claws, kitten”

He drops you on the bed climbing over you.

“Now listen, this is what will happen. You will stop acting like a wild kitten and sleep beside me. I am sorry for hurting you but we will discuss it tomorrow, when we are both a lot calmer. Understood?”

You don’t want to give in so easily. You also don’t want to sleep without him tonight. So you nod avoiding eye contact. He, however, doesn’t accept it and raises your chin with his finger to make you look at him.

“Use your words, sweetie”

“Yes”

“Splendid” He removed himself from you so you could get under the blanket. He laid beside you and pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest.

"Sy... I'm sorry too"

"So I'm Sy now?"

This man.

"Nevermind, you're still a prick"

You try to remove his arm but he holds you tighter as he laughs.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, sweetie"

You felt him kiss the crown of your head as he caressed your shoulder with his thumb. you return to your previous position and listening to his heartbeat, sleep lured you in soon enough.

#love and deepspace #lnds zayne #lnds sylus #zayne x reader #sylus #sylus x reader #lnds #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #sylusposting #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne

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mononijikayu · 7 months ago

Text

you belong with me — nanami kento.

"Hi….I’m Kento."

“Kento, huh.” you said, testing the name again like you were rolling it around in your head, trying to get the feel of it. After a moment, you nodded, satisfied.

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“That’s a good name.” You declared it with the authority of a five-year-old who had decided someone was officially worth their time.

“Your name’s okay too... I guess,” Kento replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost teasing.

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, romance, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, p to v sex, car sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my love, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, best friend! nanami kento, best friend! reader;

WORD COUNT: 14k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the final fic for 2024!!! wah, there's a lot to say. first and foremost, this fic would not be possible if it wasn't for the lovely person who commissioned it from me awhile back. please give them a lot of love and a lot of thanks.

they were my first ever commission here and still it flutters my heart with joy to have worked them. they were so good to me and continues to do so, with how they want to share this fic with you too.

also, i want to thank you all for sticking with me this 2024. it was a long road and a really painful time. i wrote to escape these painful times and i got through 2024 with you guys, just enjoying stories in my head. so thank you!!! there were a lot and there are still a lot i haven't published here.

i hope we continue to be together in 2025 too. i'll continue to write for both of us, to have solace in hard times. i bow to you in all ways that i can. thank you for being good to me!!! i love you all. this is kayu signing off for 2024. please have a lovely and wonderful new year and i'll see you on january 2025 <33333

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

EVEN AS A CHILD, YOU THOUGHT THAT HE BELONGED TO YOU. It was a childish little thing, you knew that much. But the moment you met Nanami Kento at the park when you were five years old, you just knew he was going to be your best friend.

And no one else could claim that from you. It wasn’t something you decided after a long debate in your head. If anything, it was instinctive, instant, like the way a flower turns toward the sun. What surprised you even more was that he didn’t seem to mind it.

That day, Nanami Kento was sitting on the swings, looking unusually serious for a kid. His little legs dangled, barely brushing the ground, and he rocked back and forth so slightly it was as if he wasn’t even moving. It was odd.

Most kids treated the swings like they were flying machines, pumping their legs wildly, laughing as they soared. But not Kento. He just sat there, his small hands gripping the chains, his gaze fixed on the ground as though it held all the answers to the universe.

It wasn’t sadness—not exactly. He didn’t look miserable or lonely. No, it was more like he was... satisfied. Content in his little bubble of silence, where the noise of the playground seemed to slide right past him.

You, however, were not content with his quiet. What could a kid possibly have to think about so deeply? Why wasn’t he running around, chasing someone, or shouting nonsense with the other kids? How could he stomach sitting there alone for so long?

The questions buzzed in your head, but more than that, you felt a pull. You wanted to know him. You wanted him to talk to you, to share whatever thoughts were hiding behind those serious brown eyes. And if he wouldn’t come to you, well, that was fine. You’d go to him.

You had the kind of confidence that only comes from being five years old and utterly fearless. The kind of confidence that didn’t know rejection or hesitation, only the certainty that the world would say "yes" if you asked it nicely enough.

So, you marched right up to him, your pigtails bouncing with each determined step. You put on your brightest smile, the kind of smile that has always gotten adults to bend down and coo. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?”

"Hi!" you announced, planting yourself firmly in front of him like he had no choice but to acknowledge you. You told him your name, grinning at him.

He blinked, startled out of his deep, secured thoughts to the sight of you. It took a while, but he lifted his caramel gaze to meet yours. For a moment, he just looked at you, like he wasn’t sure if you were real. No one has ever approached him before, well not as brazenly as this. Then, finally, he answered you back.

"Hi….I’m Kento."

“Kento, huh.” you said, testing the name again like you were rolling it around in your head, trying to get the feel of it. After a moment, you nodded, satisfied.

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“That’s a good name.” You declared it with the authority of a five-year-old who had decided someone was officially worth their time.

“Your name’s okay too... I guess,” Kento replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost teasing.

“Huh? It’s pretty!” you retorted, your hands flying to your hips, a slight pout settling on your lips. “My mom thought hard about it, you know!”

“So did mine.” Kento shot back, a flicker of mischief lighting his normally serious face. Then, in a tone that was just a little too smug, he added, “It’s a good name too.”

For a second, you just stared at him, caught off guard by the slyness in his tone. Then, to your own surprise, you burst out laughing. It wasn’t just the words that got to you—it was the way he said them, so calm and deliberate, like he was throwing you a challenge wrapped in politeness.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you decided, grinning widely.

Kento raised an eyebrow at that, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Well, you are.” you said firmly, as though your opinion was final. “So, Kento, what do you wanna do? We could swing, or climb the jungle gym, or—oh! We could build a sandcastle!”

He blinked, caught off guard by your rapid-fire suggestions. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, like he wasn’t used to making decisions for playtime.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand without a second thought. “Then we’re doing the sandcastle! Come on, you’re gonna love it.”

He let you pull him along, his steps falling into rhythm with yours. “What if I don’t?” he asked, his voice so soft you almost missed the challenge in it.

“You will!” you said confidently, already imagining the crooked towers you’d build together. “Because I said so.”

Nanami Kento didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet laugh, the sound so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. But you were paying attention, because something about this boy made you want to see every little detail he kept hidden in that quiet bubble of his.

From that moment, Kento Nanami became yours.

He knew that just as much as you did, even then.

And he was certain you were just as much his from then.

It wasn’t long into your days of playdates before you started staking your claim. You didn’t mean to—well, maybe you did. That really didn’t matter. What mattered was that you and Kento were having fun. Like the time some other kids approached while you and Kento were hard at work in the sandbox, trying to make your castle less crooked.

"Hey, kid!" one of them called, pointing at the little shovel in Kento’s hands. "Can I borrow that?"

"No way." you said firmly before Kento could even open his mouth. You shot the kid a look that clearly said back off. "We’re using it."

"But—"

"Nope. Sorry. It’s ours to play with." you cut them off, turning back to your castle as if the conversation was over. "Right, Kento?"

Kento hesitated for a second, glancing between you and the other kid, before quietly nodding. "Right."

The other kids' faces were filled with harsh looks at what you said. But you didn’t care. All they could do was huff and puff until they were blue in the face. You would never budge, not even if they wanted you too.

You were a tough girl. And you always got what you wanted. And you wanted your new friend and his attention only on you. So you didn't care what you did. You’ll keep your friend, no matter what they want.

Soon enough, they gave in and went to wander off. You can only smile. You didn’t feel the slightest bit bad. If anything, you had wished that they had left much sooner.

You turned to Kento with a satisfied smile. "Good. They’d just mess it up anyway. It’s better if we play together, only us!"

Kento tilted his head, watching you with that quiet curiosity he always seemed to have. You seemed to be content about playing just by yourself, by his side. Not many kids seem to be content about wanting to do that at all.

"Why don’t you let other kids play with us?" he asked.

You looked at him like the answer should’ve been obvious. "Because you’re my friend. I found you first. That means you’re mine."

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Then, slowly, that tiny, barely-there smile returned.

"Okay." he said simply, like he didn’t mind one bit.

══════════════════

YEARS DRAGGED ON IN A FLASH FOR BOTH OF YOU. From that day forward, Nanami Kento was your shadow. Or maybe you were his—it often depended on who was asking and whose ego needed inflating at the moment.

But that was just how it was between the two of you. And you were content about how that goes. You knew he was just the same. Not because you went around declaring it (okay, maybe you did once or twice), but because your actions left no room for doubt.

The two of you were inseparable, and everyone knew it. In a way, both your parents were both glad and concerned about it. Glad that you both were in each other’s lives, nurturing and caring for each other. That means you both weren’t lonely, and you both were happily playing with each other day in and out of school.

But concerned that you weren’t letting each other find any other people in your lives and explore other friendships. But that hardly mattered to the two of you. Both of you didn’t budge. You didn’t need anyone else. If anything, you only need each other. You were both content with that.

If there was a school project, Nanami Kento was your partner. No debates, no negotiation. You made sure of it every single time. It got to the point where teachers didn’t even bother asking anymore. By third grade, the class roster might as well have been printed with your name and his own written in bold under "Partners" for every project.

“Do you guys ever work with anyone else?” a classmate once dared to ask.

“Why would we?” you replied, looking genuinely puzzled. “He’s the best at making the physical parts.I don’t need anyone else.”

Kento, standing beside you, simply shrugged. “She’s good at explaining the messy, hard parts.” he said, so matter-of-factly it left no room for argument.

At lunch, it was no different. You always saved him a spot, waving him over like a VIP guest being ushered past the velvet rope. And no one dared sit with the two of you. Not after The Incident.

There was one time where a new kid made the mistake of sliding into the seat next to Nanami Kento before he got there. You didn’t even hesitate to act as quickly as you could.

“Excuse me, new kid.” you said, your voice sugary sweet, but your eyes narrowing dangerously.

“What?” the kid asked, glancing up at you.

“That’s his seat.” You pointed toward Kento, who was still in the lunch line, entirely oblivious to the showdown brewing at the table.

“Seats are for everyone in the school.” the kid said, with all the defiance of someone who didn’t know better yet. “I can sit wherever I want.”

And that’s when you did it. You reached out and swatted their hand as they tried to open their milk carton. You glared at him, almost as cold as the North Pole. He gulped at your glare. You were terrifying for a middle schooler.

“Go. Somewhere. Else.” you said, every word punctuated with a glare that could have sent a grown man packing. “That’s HIS seat!”

The new kid was terrified and immediately scurried off, muttering something about "territorial weirdos." — that was another thing for the school to whisper about in their past time. But you didn’t care.

By the time that he got out of the boy’s toilets, Nanami Kento got to the table, his spot was as clear as always, and you were already peeling the wrapper off the sandwich your mom made for him like nothing had happened.

“Thanks.” he said, sitting down without even asking why the kid from earlier was now eating on the other side of the cafeteria. He saw that of course. But he didn’t dare ask. “Thank your mom for me, about the sandwich.”

“You’re welcome.” you replied, sliding his sandwich over to him. You smiled as he opened his own lunch bag and started to pull out chocolate pudding in a tupperware. “Ohhhh, your mom thought of dessert!”

“Hm, I asked her.” Kento retorts back to you, smiling softly at your excitement. “Since you like chocolate pudding.”

“Thank your mama for me, okay?”

“Hm, I will.”

But of course, your protectiveness didn’t stop at lunch seats. If anything, you were protective of him to the point that it was already insane. If anyone so much as thought about teasing him, you were on them like a hawk. It didn’t matter if it was a stupid nickname or a poorly aimed joke. Nanami Kento wasn’t going to deal with any of it, not on your watch.

“Hey, Kento, why are you so quiet all the time?” one boy snickered during recess, his tone dripping with mockery.

Before Kento could even respond, you were already there, hands on your hips and glaring like you were ready to call down the wrath of the heavens. You glared at the kid as though he was meeting to face a thousand suns.

“Maybe he’s quiet because he doesn’t waste time saying dumb things like you do.” you snapped, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow for maximum effect. “Stop being a weird waste of space and leave him alone, you freak!”

The boy tried to stammer something in response, but you didn’t wait to hear it. You didn’t care for what they said. Only for what Kento says. You rolled your eyes at the kid, as though he bored you and looked away. Soon enough, you turned back to Kento, your expression softening immediately.

“Come on, Kento.” you said, grabbing his hand. “We’re going to the swings.”

Kento didn’t say much about that. But later, when that same boy made a malicious face at you from across the playground and had made a plan to chase you with a bottle of water to throw, Nanami Kento was the first to sense a threat against you.

He sighed heavily and without even looking up from his picture book muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “She’s faster than you, you know? She would wet your hair and make fun of you for it. So, I wouldn’t try it.”

The boy stayed far away after that.

And you could only giggle at what he said.

Nanami Kento knew you all too well.

But just as much as you were ready to fight Nanami Kento’s battles, he was ready to fight yours. And while you often took on challenges with the energy of a charging bull, Kento’s approach was quieter, deadlier—like a knife slipping between ribs before anyone even noticed it was there. He was just that type of kid, you think.

You first realized just how far Kento was willing to go for you one day when a group of older girls decided to target your ponytails. It wasn’t a big deal to you at first; you were used to the occasional teasing. But this time, something about their tone, or maybe the way they crowded around, everything about it had made your stomach twist.

“Why do you always look like you just rolled out of bed?” one of them sneered, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Her friends burst into laughter, as if she’d just delivered the punchline of the century. You bristled, the words forming on your tongue to snap back. But before you could speak, Kento appeared, slipping between you and the girls like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why do you care?” he asked, his tone calm, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

It was such a simple question, but somehow it silenced the entire group. The girl blinked at him, thrown off by his directness. Kento yawned, as though he was already bored with her. She had never expected anything from him. Kento was quiet and reserved.

He was also popular and quite a handsome young boy that people had a crush on. Even when he didn’t talk or pay any mind to any of them. You glared at this girl, as though she was the worst of them all. She’s always been trying to take Kento from you.

“Uh, excuse me?” she said, attempting to regain her composure.

“You heard me.” Kento’s gaze was steady, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was an edge to his voice that made it clear he wasn’t messing around. “Why do you care what she looks like? Or are you just bored?”

The giggling stopped.

“Well, I—” The girl floundered, her cheeks turning pink.

“She looks fine to me.” Kento interrupted smoothly, tilting his head slightly as if he were assessing them. “Better than you, anyway. I mean, those pants with that shirt? What are you thinking? Does your mom even love you if she allows you to wear something like that?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop at what he had said. You look at him, blinkingly. Before finding yourself bellowing at laughter at how blunt he had worked everything. The girls gasped, their mouths falling open in perfect synchronization. One of them muttered something about “rude boys” and then, just like that, they were gone, retreating with their tails between their legs.

You stood there, stunned, as Kento turned back to you like nothing had happened. You finally straightened yourself from your laughing form. You wiped your eyes as you turned back at him. You grinned at his words.

“Better than her?” you repeated later as the two of you walked back to class. You were trying not to laugh, but the corners of your mouth kept twitching upward.

“It’s true. You already know that.” he said simply, not bothering to look up from the book he’d already opened, as if the whole thing hadn’t even fazed him.

“Aw, you think I’m cute, don’t you?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“Don’t push it.” he replied dryly, but the tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

══════════════════

BUT OF COURSE, THIS ONLY INTENSIFIED ONCE YOU BOTH GREW OLDER. Entering this new environment, in high school — one could say nothing had ever changed. If anything, it has only grown more concrete that you and Nanami Kento, no one can separate the two of you even if they tried.

If one were to describe how you both were, it would be like being a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Inseparable. And even when people questioned it, you turned them down just as easily. Little by little, people barely questioned it anymore.

You had long since reached the point where your friendship was so solid that it seemed like a fact of life. If anyone tried to ask about it, the answer was already clear: You two were a package deal. And while you liked it that way, not everyone seemed to get the memo.

It didn’t take long for the attention to roll in once high school started. You were used to it by now. After all, you and Kento had always been a pair of conspicuously close friends, so naturally, people were curious.

But this was a different kind of curiosity, the kind that came with stares and whispers behind your backs. Everyone seemed to have suddenly developed a keen interest in your best friend, and you couldn’t decide if it was because of his brooding good looks or that deep, mysterious aura he carried, but maybe, probably both.

It started with the girls, as it usually did. They would hover around Kento in class, a little too eager to engage in conversations about anything—his favorite books, his thoughts on the weather, even the random things he’d written in the margins of his notes. It didn’t matter what they brought up; they were just looking for an excuse to get a reaction out of him.

They wanted to be the one to crack the mystery that was Nanami Kento. And of course, they expected him to open up, to smile, to laugh, to do something that would confirm they were special enough to make him forget his usual quiet, studious demeanor.

But Kento, being the stoic, no-nonsense guy he was, would respond with quiet politeness, barely even registering their presence. He would tilt his head slightly when they asked questions, look at them through the edge of his glasses, and give just enough of an answer to keep things from getting awkward.

The girls would often stare at him a little longer than necessary, hoping for a second of warmth or acknowledgment. But no matter how many times they tried, all they got was that polite, impersonal smile that didn’t reach his eyes. And it wasn’t that he didn’t care; it was just that he didn’t care about them, not in the way they wanted.

To Nanami Kento, it was all just noise. So, he’d just keep his focus on what mattered, which was probably the latest algebra problem or his ongoing internal monologue about the best way to prepare his next snack.

Even as an emo guy with that black hoodie, messy blond hair, brooding eyes that screamed ‘don’t talk to me, but if you do, be prepared for my sarcasm’—people still flocked to him. It was almost unfair, you thought. He had this combination of boy-next-door charm and detached, almost tragic mystique that girls couldn’t resist.

He was a pretty boy, you knew that much. You’d known him long enough to appreciate the way his eyes glinted in the sunlight, how his messy hair always looked effortlessly perfect, how he somehow made a monotone voice sound like the most hypnotic thing in the room.

And it wasn’t just the girls, either. The guys were starting to notice, too. Sure, they didn’t hover the same way, but they’d get a little too chatty when Kento was around, laughing a little too hard at his dry jokes, trying just a bit too hard to be friendly.

Everyone knew he wasn’t the type to just buddy up with anyone, and that mystery only made him more desirable. So when they’d get too close, you’d notice the slight twitch of Kento’s eyebrow, the way he’d lean just a little bit further away to make it clear that he was not interested in their company.

But the one thing you didn’t doubt was this: Kento was really polite. He never outright rejected anyone, and that politeness was a plus. Sure, it drove you a little crazy when they’d swarm him like bees to honey.

But you had to admit that his politeness was a rare commodity in a world where most people had no issue turning someone down rudely or making them feel uncomfortable. Kento didn’t do that. He’d simply nod back at people and get back to whatever it was he was doing, never making a fuss about the attention.

Well, it was better than over half the school, that’s for sure. You’d seen the way people treated each other, cold and snide, brushing off others without so much as a second thought. Kento was a rare gem in that regard. He was a gentleman, even in the face of all the attention he was getting, and that made it all the more frustrating.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to admire him; you just didn’t like the thought of anyone thinking they could replace you. You and Kento had this bond, a strong one, one that didn’t need words to be understood. But here was the thing—everyone else didn’t get it. And that was where the fun (and by fun, you mean sneaky sabotage) began.

After all, who else could say they knew all his little quirks? Who else had shared so many quiet lunches under that same oak tree, or been the one to force him to eat a full meal instead of staring at his book? You were his best friend, and that meant you had a certain, special claim on him, no matter how many girls wanted to make themselves part of his world.

But, like the selfless best friend you were, you’d keep that fact under wraps. No one needed to know you had a stake in him—especially when you were also the one helping him avoid the chaos of all his newfound admirers. Let them keep fighting over who could be the one to crack Kento's cold exterior; you'd be the one to keep it safe.

But that wasn’t enough. No, they wanted more. They wanted to peel back the layers, crack open that cool exterior, and find whatever hidden treasure lay beneath. And that was where you came in. That’s where you always have to come in. He was your best friend, after all.

It wasn’t that you hated the attention Kento was getting, but it was yours, wasn’t it? You didn’t want anyone to think they could just stroll up and waltz into the little bubble you and Kento had created. And you know he agreed. He doesn’t really need anyone else, he’s said that to you numerous times.

So naturally, you and Kento found creative ways to sabotage any admirer who dared to get too close. It wasn’t malicious, exactly. Well, not to you or Kento. it was more like you were just “protecting” him, and, on occasion, he did the same for you.

It started with the simple things. You'd hover near him during lunch, casually tossing your snacks at him in a way that made it obvious you didn’t want him interacting too much with anyone else. It was like a game of cat-and-mouse between the two of you. Both of you pretended you weren’t doing it, but everyone knew exactly what you were up to.

For example, when this girl from the other class named Yuki asked to sit with Kento one day during lunch time, you quickly swooped in, plopping down next to him like you were the most important thing in his world. You grinned at him and he hummed.

“Hey, Kentooooo!” you said, dropping your lunch tray in front of him. “Did you get those history notes I gave you this morning?”

Yuki opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, you continued to talk to him with a brighter grin. You nonchalantly handed your strawberry milk carton to him and he started to open it for you with the same amount of cool.

“I was thinking of making brownies this weekend. You like chocolate, right? The ones that we used to buy at the mart? It hasn’t changed, right?” You sent her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I know it's probably too sweet, but it’s his favorite.”

Kento nodded back at you as he placed your strawberry milk carton on the side. You thanked him happily as you started to drink with happy sounds. Kento simply looked at Yuki with the politest expression he could muster and muttered back at her.

“Sorry, I’ve got a study group with her after school. Maybe next time.”

Yuki didn’t even bother trying to argue, just nodding stiffly before retreating. You shot Kento a quick grin, but before you could say anything, he just sighed and went back to his book.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” he muttered under his breath. “Could have handled that myself.”

“But I have to. You know that.” you said with a grin, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. “You’re my best friend, not hers.”

One day at lunch, as you and Kento sat under the shade of the old oak tree, munching on your usual snacks, a girl named Mia from your history class walked by. She glanced at Kento, then at you, then back at Kento, before finally stopping a few feet away.

"Hey, Kento!" she called, her voice way too sweet for your liking. “Mind if I join you guys?”

You didn’t even have to look up from your crackers. “Sure, but he doesn’t bite.” you said, not even looking at Mia. “I mean, I don’t think so...”

Kento, who had been engrossed in a textbook the size of a brick, glanced up at you before looking back at Mia. "I can sit alone, you know." he said, a little too casually, not even bothering to hide the fact that he didn’t care much for the attention.

Mia, undeterred, tried again. “Are you sure? I heard you like this band, too. Maybe we could—”

But before she could finish her sentence, you leaned forward, dropping a half-eaten cracker dramatically into your lap as if to make your point clear.

"If you want to talk about music, you’re gonna have to take it up with me right now, okay?" you declared, giving her your best “this is my turf” look. "Kento here’s more into his book right now, not whatever band you think you have in common with him."

Kento blinked slowly, clearly trying to figure out why he was being pulled into this, but didn't argue. He just glanced at you and nodded, an expression you knew meant, I’m not getting involved in this one.

Mia looked between you and Kento, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay, fine.” she muttered before turning around and walking off, her face flushed red.

"Good job, hero," Kento muttered under his breath, voice dry.

You smirked at him. "You’re welcome, sunshine."

Of course, it wasn’t like you were the only one who was possessive. Nanami Kento hated that you were constantly getting hit on. It drove him absolutely insane. Apparently, teenage boys had this ridiculous notion that your consistent rejections made you more appealing. The more you turned them down, the more determined they became, like you were some kind of prize to be won.

Nanami Kento of course, naturally, found this logic baffling—and irritating. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to handle yourself; he absolutely did. He hated everyone else, maybe most of all the men around him and of course — you.

But watching those guys swarm around you, trying to impress you with their lame jokes or over-the-top compliments, made his jaw tighten and his grip on his pen just a little too firm. Oh, he hated men even more like that. And, well, Kento was never one to sit back and let something annoy him for too long. Not when it comes to you.

But of course, there are things that come as unexpected too.

Maybe it was because Nanami Kento was too perceptive.

Maybe he was just good at dissecting situations happening.

He doesn’t know how this happened, or how this came to pass.

But today would change his life for good, that was certain.

A week after one particularly bold senior cornered you after class to “ask for your number” Kento decided to return the favor—not with dramatics, of course, but with his usual understated, calm assertiveness.

You were sitting in the library, animatedly telling Kento about your latest sketch. It was a concept you were certain would win the upcoming art contest. He was actually paying attention, nodding slightly as you explained your technique, when suddenly, a guy from the senior class decided to interrupt.

“Hey, you’re the girl who draws, right?” the senior asked, leaning against the edge of the table with a grin that screamed overconfident.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah, that’s me.”

“Well,” he continued, practically oozing smugness, “I was thinking, maybe you’d want to collaborate on some sketches sometime. You know, we could—”

Before he could finish whatever weak line he’d rehearsed, Kento smoothly slid into the seat beside you, his broad shoulders cutting off your view of the guy. He didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, he turned to you, his voice calm but laced with just enough edge to make his point.

“I’m pretty sure sketching is a solitary activity.” Kento said matter-of-factly. “You know, for concentration… unless, of course, you want a distraction?”

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Kento’s sudden presence. “Uh, no, I—”

Kento didn’t let him finish. “You know….” he continued, still not looking at the guy. “It’s actually better if you’re alone when you’re working. Less… interruptions.”

He then picked up your sketchbook, flipping through it with the kind of casual indifference that somehow made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. Your jaw dropped at what he’s done.He’s silly like this sometimes, you think to yourself.

“Kento!” you half-laughed, half-scolded, reaching for your sketchbook. “That’s my sketchbook!”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” he replied nonchalantly, not even pretending to give it back. His attention wasn’t on your sketches anymore, though. His eyes were fixed on the poor senior, who was now fidgeting uncomfortably under Kento’s unnervingly calm stare.

“Do you mind?” Kento said coolly. “She’s busy.”

The guy stammered something unintelligible, his confidence evaporating faster than a spilled soda in the sun. “Uh… yeah, maybe another time, I guess.” he mumbled before slinking off, clearly realizing he was no match for Nanami Kento’s level of subtle intimidation.

Once the guy was gone, you turned back to Kento, crossing your arms with a mix of exasperation and amusement. You giggled to yourself for a moment. He sighed, looking at how amused you were. It was always like this with you, getting giddy when he does things like this.

“Nice one, Kento.” you said, smirking. “You do know I could have handled that, right?”

Kento raised an eyebrow, setting your sketchbook back down and leaning back in his chair like nothing had happened. You take it back from him, giving him a small thanks. He couldn’t stop looking at you. But when you looked up again, he'd already looked away.

“Sure.” he said, his lips curling into that faint, almost-smile of his. “But it looked like you were busy… talking to him.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. “What was that even about? You’re not my bodyguard, you know.”

“I wasn’t being a bodyguard.” he replied, his tone annoyingly calm. “I was just... pointing out how distracting he was being.”

“Right, right.” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “And that had nothing to do with you hating that he interrupted us?”

Kento didn’t answer right away, but the way his eyes flickered with quiet amusement gave him away. He never likes admitting it out loud, but he feels glad. He feels glad when he makes sure you both are alone. You were all he needed after all.

“Maybe.” he finally admitted, his voice as casual as ever. “Or maybe I just wanted to look at your sketchbook.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you talk too much.” he countered, eyes shining softly against your own.

You giggled back at him, your lips smiling beautifully at him. Beautifully more than ever before. “But you like it that way, don’t you?”

Huh, what was that? He thought to himself.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Was that his heart beating like that just now?

For a moment, he stops and looks at you. You were unaware about what happened just now. Instead, you were back on your sketching, humming to some song you were obsessed with right now. Kento swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how he was looking at you. He cleared his throat.

“We should get going.” he said finally, his voice a little quieter than usual. “The library closes soon.”

You nodded, falling into step beside him as you always did. But as you walked, Kento couldn’t help sneaking a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. He’d always thought of himself as someone who was good at keeping his emotions in check, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Is this what it feels like? Kento wondered as he watched you walk off in front of him.

He stops. He takes in the sight of you. You were laughing, hopping on the tiles one by one. The sun glows behind you like a beacon leading him to the direction of life. You nearly fell, making him jump forward. But you held your balance.

And then you laughed. Laughed so beautifully that he doesn’t know what to do. He could feel every fiber of him turning warm, warmer and redder than ever before. His heart beating out of rhythm again.

Ah, shit. Kento once more thinks to himself. I’m screwed.

══════════════════

HE DOESN’T THINK TO SAY ANYTHING. How could he, when he’s scared about the outcome? But as the time flew by as fast as it could, he knew he can’t keep being a coward about it. He had to say something. He should do it soon.

It was going to come out anyway. College was looming on both your shoulders. And with that, a lot of uncertainty came. If he says something, at the very least there would be something certain, concrete as your friendship.

The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor of Kento’s family home, a single bottle of sake between you. Neither of you had much experience with alcohol, but the thrill of being eighteen and toeing the line of rebellion was too tempting to resist.

Kento poured carefully into the mismatched cups you'd found in his cupboard, his movements precise, even in the low light.

"Cheers, cheers!" you yell with that bright eyed grin, raising your cup to him.

"To...?" he asked, his brow arching slightly, always wanting things to have a purpose.

"To us!" you said simply, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He hesitated, his breath catching in his chest, before clicking his cup against yours. "To us."

The first sip was sharp, burning its way down, but it wasn’t long before the alcohol began to work its magic with swift effectivity. You laughed more freely, leaning closer to him, and your words came faster, your thoughts unfiltered.

"You know, Kentooooo." you said, poking his shoulder with a pout. "You’re, like, ridiculously handsome, right?"

Kento froze mid-sip, his ears instantly turning as pink as your sweater. "W–what?"

"I mean it! You’re so... ugh…." you groaned, tossing your head back dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?"

"Like what?" he asked, his voice soft, betraying the nervous flutter in his chest.

"Like you’re trying not to smile, but your eyes are giving you away." you teased, your grin widening as you poked his cheek this time.

Nanami Kento could feel his heart pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. Every word you spoke chipped away at his usual composure, and he could feel himself unraveling under the weight of your drunken admiration. In just this moment, you wholly outwit him. You make him come undone. Only you can have that effect on him. Only you.

"You’re unbelievable, you know that?" he muttered, trying to look away, but you caught his chin, turning his face back to yours.

"Admit it already, won’t you?" you said, your voice lower now, but no less playful. "You like me. Maybe even a little too much."

Kento stared at you, the world blurring slightly around the edges, whether from the alcohol or the way you were looking at him, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to do it like this. He didn’t want to put up his hopes that you would be sober enough to know the truth. Or for you to have sober truths pouring out of your sharp grinning lips.

"I think…" he began, his voice steady but his heart anything but.

“You think?”

"I’m falling for you. More and more. Every second."

You blinked at what had just shifted in the air, your teasing expression softening as you processed his words. Then, to his surprise, you smiled—not mischievously this time, but gently, sweetly. Full with a merry drink, you smiled.

"Good." you whispered, leaning in so close he could smell the faint sweetness of the sake on your breath. "You said really good words.”

Kento barely had time to breathe before you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving his face on fire and his heart completely, utterly yours. Kento froze, the warmth of your lips lingering on his cheek like a brand. His breath hitched as your words sank into the alcohol-drenched air between you.

“I think I’m already there.”

He stared at you, his usually composed mind now an unsteady swirl of emotions—exhilaration, disbelief, and a flicker of hesitation. Your gaze was soft, dreamy, and undeniably sincere, but the alcohol in your system clouded everything. He said it out loud. But are you sure? How could you be, with how merry the drink is in your belly?

"You don’t mean that." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loud would shatter the fragile moment.

"I do. I do." you said, your expression serious despite the light flush of intoxication on your cheeks. You reached for his hand, holding it with a gentle firmness that made his heart stumble in its rhythm.

Kento's fingers curled instinctively around yours before he could stop himself, but his grip was careful, steady. "You're drunk. I just…you can’t say that drunk." he pointed out, his voice more tender than reprimanding.

You frowned, tilting your head like you were trying to understand him through the haze. "So? That doesn’t mean it’s not true."

He sighed, looking down at your joined hands. He wanted so desperately to believe you, to let his heart leap completely into your words, but his rational side, his ever-present voice of reason. It held him back.

"It matters. It matters to me." he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly. "If you mean it, I need to hear it when you’re sober. When you’re sure."

"But I am sure, Kento." you insisted, leaning closer, your warmth almost overwhelming him. Your free hand reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and he felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush.

Kento shook his head, his smile faint but aching with restraint. "Not like this." he murmured. "You’ll wake up tomorrow and—"

"And what? Pretend this didn’t happen?" you interrupted, your brows knitting together. "Do you think I’d forget how much I lo—"

His hand shifted, gently pressing a single finger to your lips to quiet you, though it was more for his sake than yours. He wasn’t sure he could take it, hearing those words from you while your judgment was fogged.

"Stop. Please." he said, his voice barely steady. "Don’t say it now. Not tonight."

Your eyes searched hisfrustration flickering in their depths before softening. You saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way he looked at you like he was holding back an ocean of feelings.

"You're such a romantic, aren’t you?" you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice as a lazy smile spread across your face.

He gave a quiet chuckle, his fingers brushing against your cheek now without realizing it. "Maybe." he admitted, his tone gentler than ever. "But I want this—want us—to start right. I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me again."

You let out a small sigh but didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as your eyelids grew heavy. You always liked this, taking in his warmth. You don’t think there was any other place you belonged in but his arms.

If you were being honest, you were afraid. He was right. Your words could mean something, and maybe it wouldn’t be as clear as his own. You were drunk. You were really drunk. And feels hazy in your head. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to your Kento. Not like this.

"Fine." you murmured, your words slurring slightly. "But you’d better be ready for me to say it a hundred times tomorrow. Maybe a thousand."

Kento chuckled again, the sound low and warm in his chest, as he rested his chin lightly on top of your head. "I’ll be ready." he promised, even as his own heart thudded wildly at the thought. “I’m always waiting for you. Always.”

And as you drifted off, still clutching his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, Kento silently vowed to himself: when the time came, he’d tell you how deeply, how completely he felt for you too. He just needed to be sure you knew what it meant.

The morning after that night, you woke up on Kento's couch, the faint remnants of sake lingering in the air. Your head throbbed lightly, and your memories were fuzzy around the edges. Kento, ever thoughtful, had left a glass of water and some aspirin on the table beside you.

"Rough night?" he asked from the kitchen, his voice steady but carefully neutral as he busied himself making coffee.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "What did I even say last night? I barely remember anything."

He hesitated, his hand tightening briefly on the handle of the coffee pot. He looked over at you, your half-asleep face free of the weight of your drunken confessions. For a moment, he considered saying something, but the words got caught in his throat.

"Nothing too embarrassing," he said instead, forcing a faint smile.

You laughed, your cheeks reddening slightly. "Good. I’d hate to think I made a fool of myself in front of you."

Kento gave a small nod, but his heart felt heavy. You didn’t remember, and he couldn’t bring himself to remind you. Not like this. So, he lets himself break apart. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t let you have guilt. Because if he did, how is that loving you?

So Nanami Kento buried those words, locking them away where they couldn’t touch the fragile balance between you. He told himself it was better this way. But he hopes, maybe one day — just one day. You’ll see him too. Sober with your love for him.

══════════════════

THINGS DID CHANGE A BIT WHEN YOU WENT TO COLLEGE. Of course, you both got into the same university. But there’s a rough difference between not only being in different departments, but also being in different campuses. It was a rough travel back and forth. But Nanami Kento was determined to go and visit you.

You often feel a little bad when you look back on those days. Engineering classes were no joke. Too many long hours, grueling projects, and the constant pressure to keep up left you drained most of the time.

You barely had the energy to go out, even when you wanted to. But Kento never minded. He understood in the quiet, steady way that only he could, and instead of waiting for you to have time, he made sure to visit you instead.

It didn’t matter where for him. Whether it was the bustling campus lunch hall, where the two of you would share a plate of something warm while you tried to finish an assignment, or your dorm room, which was always a little messy with textbooks and half-drunk cups of coffee.

What mattered to him wasn’t the place or even what you were doing. What mattered was just being with you.

And that thought? It never fails to make your heart skip a beat. Even now, after everything, it feels just as special as it did back then. You still held dearest to him after all this time. Ever since you were kids, you were his everything. And you were sure, more than ever now, that he was yours too. In all sense of the word.

It’s been a year and a half since that time, since you confessed to Kento. Well, technically, drunk you confessed to him. It was late, and you’d had just enough to drink to make your heart bolder than your brain. You didn’t want to say a word. And you think that Kento was just as much waiting for you to say something.

You were ready to die of embarrassment when you remembered that you had said that. But then you remembered, with just as much horror and embarrassment — he’d confessed too. With that same calm sincerity, he told you he’d felt the same way for a while.

Looking back, it was a little messy, maybe even a lot embarrassing. But it was also sweet, earnest, and so perfect for you two. And honestly? You wouldn’t change a thing. You had said something that clarified things for you.

After all, that drunken confession was the start of something that would make all the challenges of those days worth it, every late-night study session, every coffee-fueled conversation, every stolen moment in between. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

You were falling for Kento more and more every day, and it was starting to feel like a problem. A big problem. How were you supposed to act normal around him when everything he did—from the way he fixed his tie to the way he said your name—made your heart do backflips?

It wasn’t fair, really. How was it possible that the same person who once laughed so hard he choked on a piece of rice during lunch was also the one making you reconsider your entire perception of love? He was your best friend, and now you couldn’t even look at him without overthinking every little thing.

And to make matters worse, he was visiting you today.

You had approximately 15 minutes to get your life together before Kento arrived, which was nowhere near enough time to deal with the tornado that was your dorm room or the emotional hurricane swirling inside you.

“Okay, okay, calm your tits.” you muttered to yourself, grabbing stray socks off the floor. “Just play it cool. It’s just Kento. You know him best. Real well. He’s been here a million times. No big deal. Totally normal.”

You shoved a pile of notebooks into your desk drawer, praying it wouldn’t jam, and quickly rearranged the pillows on your bed. By the time you heard the knock at your door, your dorm was passable, well barely. And you were mostly sure you didn’t look like a total disaster.

When you opened the door, there he was, Nanami Kento in all of his huge handsome stature, standing there with his usual calm demeanor, holding a bag of snacks. You yelped quietly as you looked at him. Your roommates must have let him inside.

“Thought you might need these.” he said, giving you one of those small, knowing smiles that made your brain short-circuit.

You blinked at him. “Nanami Kento, are you a psychic?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No, but you texted me at 2 AM complaining about running out of your favorite chips, so I figured this might help. You still have some paperwork to do, right? And you won’t eat unless I come by to remind you. So, I got it.”

“Oh.” You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous croak. “Right. Thanks. You’re, uh…you’re a hero.”

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room. “Did a tornado hit your room? It was clean last time I came by.”

“What? No!” You crossed your arms defensively. “I cleaned! Mostly.”

Kento gave you a skeptical look before setting the bag of snacks on your desk. “If this is what ‘clean’ looks like to you, remind me never to see it messy.”

You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it effortlessly, smirking. “Careful. That’s my best throw pillow. If you damage it, I’ll charge you emotional damages.”

“Noted, little miss engineer.” he replied, setting the pillow down with exaggerated care. “What’s the rate for emotional damages these days?”

“Depends. How many snacks did you bring?”

“Enough to keep you from suing me.” He tells you with a grin. “Still have some in my car, just in case you wanted more.”

The two of you laughed, and for a moment, it felt like old times. A little bit easy, comfortable, effortless. But then, as Kento sat down on the edge of your bed, something in your chest tightened. How had this annoying, perfect, infuriatingly kind man become someone you couldn’t stop thinking about? Someone you don’t think you could live without?

He looked up at you, tilting his head slightly. “What’s with the staring? Do I have something on my face?”

“What? No!” You blinked rapidly, your cheeks heating. “I was just—uh—zoning out. Engineering stuff. Very complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right, right.” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Because I’m definitely not the one who helped you with that last project.”

“Details, details, Nanami Kento. Don’t get bogged down in the details.”

He chuckled, and the sound was so warm and familiar that you almost forgot why you were freaking out in the first place. Almost. Kento takes a moment. He then looks at you as though examining you with careful abandon. Kento wanted to take in the sight of you, after not seeing you for a while.

“You’re weird today, do you know that?” he said, leaning back slightly. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, totally fine. Super fine.” You waved a hand dismissively. “Just tired, you know? Engineering. It’s a grind.”

Kento studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your stomach flipped, and you forced a laugh. “Who, me? No way. I’m like…a professional liar. Best in the business.”

“Uh-huh.” He hums back in retort.

He didn’t press further, but the way he looked at you. Everything about his caramel gaze was gentle, understanding, like he already knew what you weren’t saying. Everything about it, everything about him made your heart squeeze.

You sighed internally. How were you supposed to handle this? You couldn’t just blurt out, “Hey, Kento, I think I’m in love with you, and it’s driving me absolutely insane!”

But as he opened the bag of snacks and handed you your favorite, you couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe, he already knew that you knew. And that maybe he knew that you felt deeply about him. You sighed. Maybe you’re just imagining it.

As the minutes ticked by, Kento made himself right at home in your dorm, sitting cross-legged on your bed and munching on the snacks he’d brought. Meanwhile, you had plopped into your desk chair, scrolling on your phone under the pretense of “taking a break.”

But in reality, you were desperately trying to distract yourself from the way he looked way too good just casually existing in your space. How could he look that good even as a law major? How can he have time to make your heart feel like this?

As you flicked through your social media feed, you stumbled upon a post that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. It was a picture—Kento, smiling (smiling!) with a group of classmates, apparently from earlier that day. Some of them were girls. Really pretty girls. Those really pretty preppy law girls!

Your first thought was When does Kento even smile like that? He never smiles like that around me!

Your second thought was Who’s the one leaning so close to him? Is she, like, whispering in his ear or something?

You shot a quick, subtle glance at him. He was still on your bed, completely unaware of the emotional spiral you were going through. He crunched on a chip like it was the most normal day in the world.

“Did you have fun today?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Kento raised an eyebrow. “Uh…what?”

“Today. You were with…people from your department.” you said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

His brow furrowed toward you slightly. “I mean, yeah, I had a class project meeting. It was fine. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” you said, voice a little too high-pitched. Fuck, you were too obvious. You looked back at your phone, scrolling furiously to hide your face. “Just…wondering. Looked fun.”

“Wait.” Kento’s tone shifted. Suddenly you felt his gaze on you. “How do you know about that?”

Your heart dropped. “Uh, I saw it. Online. A picture. No big deal!”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. “Are you…jealous?”

“What?!” Your head whipped up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Me? Jealous? Of what? Why would I be jealous?”

Kento’s lips quivered into a rare, brat–like smirk, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “No reason at all.” he said smoothly. “Just seems like you’re a little…interested in what I’m doing when I’m not here.”

“Interested? Pfft, no. I was just—just checking to make sure you’re not hanging out with the wrong crowd.” you stammered, flailing for a decent excuse. “You know, bad influences. Peer pressure. That sort of thing.”

“Right, I see.” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Because I’m the type to fall victim to peer pressure.”

“Well, I don’t know that part of your life right now!” you snapped, feeling your face heat up. “Maybe one of those girls was trying to…to make you join a pyramid scheme or something!”

Kento leaned back on your bed, folding his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”

“I’m not hiding anything!” you shot back, spinning your chair around so you didn’t have to look at him.

There was a rustle of movement, and then suddenly, he was right behind you, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. You could feel your ears redden at the feeling of him. You squeaked, loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re really bad at lying, too. How come you haven’t evolved at lying? It’s been years and somehow, you’re still bad at it.” he said softly, his voice just teasing enough to make your heart race.

You spun around to face him, glaring. “Okay, fine! Maybe I was a little jealous. Are you happy now?”

Kento blinked, clearly surprised by your sudden outburst. But then, to your absolute horror, he started laughing—actual, full-on laughing. He hadn’t expected for you to just come out and say it like that. You were a prideful little flower, you always have been.

“You’re laughing at me?!” you cried, swatting at his arm.

“I’m not laughing at you, you know.” he said, still chuckling. “I just didn’t think you’d actually admit it.”

“Well, I did!” You crossed your arms, trying to look annoyed even as your face burned. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Kento’s laughter softened into a small, fond smile, and for a moment, the teasing disappeared. He didn’t know how much he missed you until now. Somehow, the world seemed like it was in proper orbit when he’s with you like this.

“Nothing, nothing.” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Because you don’t need to be jealous. If I wanted to spend my time with anyone else, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting as he straightened up and walked back to the bed like he hadn’t just casually wrecked you with one sentence. You looked away, crossing your arms as though to shield yourself from him. But he could still see the redness of your ears.

“Well….” you muttered under your breath, plopping dramatically onto your desk. “Now I’m jealous of myself.”

Kento paused mid-bite of a chip and turned to you with an amused look. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, sitting up straight like you hadn’t just been caught having an existential crisis.

But of course, Kento being Kento, he wasn’t about to let it slide. “No, no, go ahead.” he said, his smirk returning as he leaned back against the headboard. “Explain how you’re jealous of yourself. This, I have to hear.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Forget I said anything. It’s dumb.”

“I doubt that at all.” he replied, his tone annoyingly smug. “But fine, I’ll drop it. For now.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, only to find him watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, something that made your heart flip all over again. You wanted to throw a pillow at him or maybe yourself—just to get rid of the growing warmth in your chest.

Instead, you grabbed the bag of chips from the desk and walked over to him, shoving it into his hands. “Here. Eat some of the snacks and stop psychoanalyzing me.”

“I wasn’t psychoanalyzing you.” he said, popping another chip into his mouth. “But you’re making it very tempting.”

“Unbelievable, Kento.” you muttered, plopping down onto the bed beside him. “This is why I can’t stand you sometimes, you know that?”

“Uh-huh.” He glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “So much so that you admitted to being jealous of people spending time with me. Makes perfect sense.”

You huffed, grabbing a handful of chips just to give your hands something to do. “Okay, fine, you got me. I was a little jealous. Big deal. You’re my best friend. It’s normal to feel weird about you hanging out with other people, right?”

“Is it?” he asked, his voice teasing but his eyes studying you closely.

“Yes!” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Because we’re close. And I don’t like sharing, okay? You’ve known that since we met!”

“Hmm, hmm.” he said thoughtfully, leaning a little closer. “So what you’re saying is, you want me all to yourself?”

You choked on your chip, coughing violently as Kento sat back, looking far too pleased with himself. “You—ugh! Don’t say things like that!”

“Why not? I’m just repeating what you said to me.” he replied innocently.

“That is not what I said!”

“Sounded like it to me.”

You glared at him, your face burning. “You’re the worst.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, smiling slightly. “But I’m your worst.”

And just like that, you were done for. Completely, utterly done for. You threw a pillow at him once again. Because what else could you do to him like that? He wasn’t wrong. Sure enough, he caught it effortlessly, laughing rather softly as he set it down beside him.

“Stop overthinking about it.” he said after a moment, his tone quieter now. “I’m here because I want to be. No one else matters, okay?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” he said simply, reaching into the chip bag again like he hadn’t just made your heart implode for the second time that evening.

And you sat there, staring at him like an idiot, thinking that maybe, just maybe, falling for him wasn’t the worst thing in the world after all.

══════════════════

IT WAS ONE OF THE RARE OPPORTUNITIES WHERE YOU HAD A DAY OFF. So of course, you took the time to call Kento and ask him to hang out with you. And as usual, all he had said was that short, sure yes and nothing more.

He’d pick you up in thirty minutes, like usual. And of course, Nanami Kento was never late. If anything, he was always ten minutes early. He couldn’t have you waiting, after all.

The bar was warm and lively, filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. You and Kento had decided to spend your day off together, and while the original plan had been something low-key like a café or a bookstore, somehow you’d ended up here, nursing a drink and trying to act normal around him.

He’d never been here before, but he saw it from across the road and if the cafe or bookstore was closed — an afternoon at a bar wasn’t going to be a bad idea for college kids wanting to have some adventure beyond the campus walls.

Normal. Just normal. Yeah, act like you do. Well, whatever normal looks like to you now.

You could only mentally sigh as your peripheral was only stuck on him more than usual.

As if that was possible when you were utterly, hopelessly in love with the man sitting across from you.

Kento, of course, looked effortlessly composed, like he always did—leaning back in his seat, one hand resting on the table, the other holding his drink. He wasn’t a flashy guy, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made it impossible not to stare. And you were staring. Again.

“You’re staring at me again.” he said, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

“I am not!” you shot back, quickly taking a sip of your drink to cover up your flustered state.

“You’ve been doing it all evening.” he continued, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, no.” you muttered, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “I was just…zoning out. Thinking about…stuff.”

“Stuff. You sure….about stuff as an excuse?” he repeated, his tone skeptical.

“Yes, stuff.” you said firmly, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He chuckled softly, and you were both annoyed and utterly charmed by the sound. Why did he have to be so effortlessly perfect? It wasn’t fair. You hated how good he is at being everything you love. As you tried to regain your composure, a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Hey there, sweetie–pie.” a man said, sliding up to your table with a confident grin. “Mind if I join you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…”

Before you could say anything else, the man pulled up a chair and sat down, clearly not waiting for permission. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. You felt disgusted by the way he looked at you. He wasn’t your type at all. And moreover, he’s creepy as hell.

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room.” he said smoothly. “You’ve got a great smile.”

“Um, thanks?” you said awkwardly, glancing at Kento.

Kento’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a subtle shift in his posture. He sat up a little straighter, his jaw tightening just slightly. Kento’s eyes were glaring hard enough that you could find those eyes were blades cutting you whole.

“So, what’s your name?” the guy asked, ignoring Kento entirely.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Kento beat you to it.

“She’s not interested in you.” he said flatly, his voice calm but with an edge that made the guy pause.

The man glanced at Kento, raising an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Person she’s with.” Kento replied smoothly, though his tone made it clear that he wasn’t just a friend. “Who also happens to know she’s too polite to tell you to leave, so I’ll do it for her. What else are you waiting for? Leave.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Kento…jealous?

The man hesitated for a moment, clearly debating whether to push back, but something about Kento’s steady gaze seemed to make him think twice. With a shrug, he stood up. He wasn’t going to get anything out of you. Lest he wants to get bitten by a tiger waiting to eat him. Well, at least he’s smart about that.

“Alright, alright. No need to get territorial.” He winked at you before walking away.

You shuddered at his wink.

Have men always been weird?

You shake it off quickly, drinking your pint.

You turned to Kento, your cheeks burning. “Territorial? Really?”

Kento shrugged, taking a sip of his drink like nothing had happened. “He was bothering you. I handled it.”

“I could’ve handled it myself, you know.” you said, crossing your arms.

“I’m sure you could’ve.” he replied, setting his glass down. “But I didn’t feel like watching you pretend to be polite to someone who clearly couldn’t take a hint.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “But at least you don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

You huffed, turning back to your drink. But as you took a sip, you couldn’t help but notice the way Kento’s gaze lingered on you, softer now, like he was trying to gauge your reaction. You drink your pint once again in some somber silence.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes.” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You glanced at him, your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again. “Why?”

Kento held your gaze for a long moment before replying. “Because I don’t like the idea of anyone else thinking they can have what’s mine.”

Your brain short-circuited. “W-what?”

He didn’t elaborate, just leaned back in his chair with that same calm composure, as if he hadn’t just wrecked your entire evening with one casual sentence. You stared at him, utterly flustered and more in love than ever, wondering how on earth you were supposed to survive the rest of the night without completely losing your mind.

For the rest of the night, Kento didn’t let you out of his sight. He was subtle about it at first—the way he leaned in whenever someone walked by, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. But as the minutes passed, it became glaringly obvious: Kento was on high alert, and every glance from a stranger only made his protective aura grow stronger.

When a group of guys walked by your table and one dared to look at you a second too long, Kento’s hand dropped from the chair to your shoulder, the weight of it warm and grounding. He didn’t even glance at the guy, his focus entirely on you, but the message was clear: Don’t even try it. Back off.

You tried to act normal, but it was impossible. Sitting beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you were acutely aware of every little thing about him—the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show his forearms, the way his voice dropped into a lower register whenever he spoke to you.

“You’re quiet again.” he said, his voice low as he leaned a fraction closer.

“I’m fine, Kento. Really.” you mumbled, staring into your drink to avoid looking at him.

“Liar.” he murmured, his tone edged with amusement. “You’ve been squirming all night.”

“I have not!” you protested, but the way your voice cracked didn’t help your case.

Kento just smirked, and that was the last straw. You stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Not alone, you’re not.” he said immediately, rising from his seat with an ease that made you want to throw something.

“What, are you my bodyguard now?” you snapped, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his possessive tone.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.” he said simply, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Before you could argue, he took your hand—firm, unrelenting—and led you toward the exit.

“Kento, the bathroom’s that way.” you pointed out, trying to tug your hand free.

“We’re leaving.” he said without looking back.

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I’m done watching people think they can look at you like you’re up for grabs.” he said, his voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your protests died in your throat. Nanami Kento rarely raised his voice or lost his composure, but there was something in his tone now. It was something raw and unmistakable. And every bit of it just left you speechless.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. When he pulled into a quiet, empty lot, he turned off the engine and finally looked at you. His gaze was dark, intense, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Kento, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You.” he said, his tone low and rough. “You’re what’s going on. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sit there and pretend I’m okay with watching other people look at you like they have a chance?”

Your breath hitched. “I… I didn’t think you—”

“Didn’t think I’d care?” he interrupted, leaning closer. “Didn’t think I’d notice? God, you drive me insane, you know that?”

“Kento…”

“You’re mine.” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’ve always been mine. You always have been since we were kids. I just didn’t want to scare you off by saying it out loud again.”

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I— I….I know.” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I thought you wouldn’t say it again and I just…maybe with time passing… I thought I was the only one now.”

His lips curled into a dark, almost predatory smile. “You’re not. Never. Not when I’ve marked you since we met at that playground when we were kids.”

Before you could process his words, Kento leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was animalistic, it was wanton. It was full of possessiveness, claiming, as if he were branding the truth into you.

You matched his intensity, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, and any hesitation you’d felt earlier melted away, replaced by a burning need that had been building for far too long.

He broke away just long enough to murmur against your lips, “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute.

“You belong with me.”

You looked at him with your doe like eyes. “I belong with you.”

“Good.” he growled, pulling you into his lap without hesitation. His hands gripped your waist firmly, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “Because I’m done holding back.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

And he didn’t.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T EXPECT HIM TO BE THIS HUNGRY FOR YOU. But with the way he’s going at it. Kento has been hungry for you for a very long time. Kento’s lips linger, soft and insistent, as if savoring every inch of your skin.

The warmth of his breath trails higher, leaving behind a delicate ache where his mouth was. His hands rest firmly on your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You’re trembling.” he murmurs, his voice a rich baritone, teasing but laced with tenderness. He looks up, his gaze heavy with desire, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he speaks. “Do I make you nervous?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips, betraying your composure. “Not nervous... just—” Your words cut off as he presses another kiss, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

“Just what?” he asks, his tone low and deliberate, his lips curving into a smile against your skin. His hands slide upward, thumbs drawing small circles that make your heart race.

“Kento.” you breathe his name like a plea, your voice catching as he moves closer, the space between you charged with electricity.

The dim glow of the streetlamp filters through the windshield, casting golden lines across his sharp features. The intimacy of the confined space amplifies every touch, every sound between the two of you in these leather seats. The soft rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of his breathing, the slap of flesh against flesh.

“I love when you say my name like that, you know?” he says, voice dark and velvety. His mouth moves with purpose now, leaving faint marks of love on your skin, each one deliberate, each one staking his claim. “I love hearing it like that. Wanton f’r me.”

You gasp, your head falling back against the car seat, fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently. He groans at the sensation, the sound sending heat coursing through you. How has he ever been this good at getting under your skin?

“I want to hear more from you.” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a mix of command and yearning. His lips hover for a moment, teasing you with their proximity. “But only if you’re ready.”

Kento’s lips trail higher, each kiss softer yet more possessive, leaving warmth that lingers long after his mouth moves on. He pauses for a moment, his breath hot against your skin as his hands tighten slightly on your thighs, his thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles.

“Don’t hold back your noises from me, okay?” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver racing through you. He looks up, his golden-brown eyes locking with yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I want to hear you clearly.”

The command in his tone makes your pulse quicken. You bite your lip, but the sound escapes anyway, a soft, breathy whimper that only seems to spur him on. Kento’s touch made you feel as though a thousand flames were burning all at once.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and he chuckles darkly when your hips shift involuntarily toward him.

“Kento.” you gasp, your voice trembling with both restraint and longing.

“Hm?” he hums against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt straight through you. “I told you—no holding back.”

His hands glide upward, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you in place as his mouth continues its slow, maddening journey lower and lower. You could feel your lips mutter a weak groan against him.

The dim light of the streetlamp catches the sheen of his messy blond hair, illuminating the faint smile on his lips as he drinks in every reaction you give him. The intimacy of the moment wraps around you both, the world outside the car fading entirely.

“Kento, please.” you whisper, your voice raw with need, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He pauses, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath ghosting over you. He takes in the sight of you, almost as though a hunter to a prey. Nanami Kento is your hunter, he always has been. And he’s been keeping this inside him for way too long. This desire, for you. Only you.

“That’s what I wanted to hear from you.” he murmurs, his tone dark and full of promise, before pressing another kiss, softer this time, but no less consuming.

Kento’s words hang in the air, thick with authority and desire, as his lips return to your skin with renewed purpose. He’s slow, methodical, as if every kiss, every graze of his teeth is a language only he can speak—and you’re utterly fluent in his meaning.

“Such sweet sounds from you, hm?” he murmurs against your thigh, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through you. “Don’t hold them back from me. Let me hear what I do to you.”

Your breath hitches, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and the way his lips curl into a grin tells you he’s satisfied—but not done. His hands are firm but gentle as they slide further up your inner thighs, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you want him most.

His touch sets your skin alight, the heat pooling low in your stomach as your chest rises and falls in uneven rhythm. You could feel his long fingers making their journey to that space, their cool touch melting you whole in a pleasurable moan.

“Kento.” you whisper, barely able to find your voice, your hands trembling as they clutch at the seat beneath you.

He glances up, his caramel eyes catching the faint glow of the streetlight streaming through the windshield, giving him an almost otherworldly allure. His gaze is dark, hungry, but there’s a softness there too. There was that endless reverence in the way he looks at you, as though you’re something precious.

“Yes, my love?” he asks, his voice laced with feigned innocence, though the smirk pulling at his lips betrays him. Your heart drummed at your new nickname from him. It was real. You were lovers. Doing what lovers do. “Tell me what you need. I want to hear it.”

You let out a shaky exhale, your fingers threading into the lower depths of sandy blond undercut for stability as much as desperation. Slowly, it trailed down on his neck, your touch sleuthing through him. Temptingly, almost like a wanting vixen.

“I need you… closer.” you admit, voice breaking, the vulnerability of the words making heat rise to your cheeks.

Kento hums in approval, the sound low and pleased at your words. He leans closer and his fingers echo deeper and deeper into you. Your head throws back hard against the leather’s pristine touch. He playfully moves inside. One moment in a circle. One moment a thrust. Over and over again, rinse and repeat, force and pleasure. And all you could do was surrender.

“Good girl of mine, my love.” he murmurs, his praise sending a wave of warmth coursing through you.

That had surely made you even more wet inside. His lips press higher against your jaw, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He continues on and on. You don’t know where he learned it. How he got so good at knowing how to take you to paradise. BUt you could hardly care. You were focused on how deep his fingers were in you.

“You’re so beautiful like this, my love.” he continues, his voice velvet against the charged air. His hands grip your thighs tighter, pulling them apart just enough for him to settle more firmly between them. “Completely undone for me.”

A sound escapes you, part moan, part plea, and his response is immediate. There was a broken groan deep in his chest as he nuzzled against you, the vibrations of his voice making your whole body tremble and shake as he rushed more and more, in and out, with his masterful fingers.

“That’s it. Go on, my love.” he breathes, his voice dark, dripping with satisfaction. “Just let go for me, honey. No one else is here. Just us. Just me and the way you fall apart under my touch.”

The world outside the car feels impossibly distant now. The soft flicker of the streetlamp, the faint hum of passing cars. It’s all drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat and the way Kento’s lips, and his fingers worship every part of you they touch, in and out.

“Kento, Kento.” you gasp again, your voice a desperate whisper.

His name on your lips seems to be his motivation, pushing more and more as his fingers tighten inside of you as he shifts closer, his movements becoming more deliberate, more consuming. You could only feel your tears rush in pleasurable waterfalls on your cheek.

“Say it again, my love.” he demands softly, his lips grazing the edge of your hip. “Say my name like that again.”

And when you do, your voice trembling and raw, and broken — he lets out a sound that’s pure need, his control slipping as he loses himself in you entirely. His fingers dug deeper and deeper until they couldn’t anymore. Your slick brushing through his fingers as he repeats it over and over again.

Kento’s name spills from your lips again, breathless and aching, and he growls softly against your skin. There was a sound that sent a ripple of heat straight to your core. You cry out loudly as you come undone on his touch, so hard that you see stars.

“You’re trembling so much, my love.” he murmurs, his voice molten and rich. “Is it because of me, hm?”

His fingers slowly exit through your crevices, slick and full of you. He looks satisfied with the mess he made of you. It doesn’t matter if you pool your pleasure on his leather seats. The sight was satisfying to look at. Because you’re his. And this was proof.

Your answer is a shaky exhale, your head falling back against the seat as your hazy gaze saw him slowly eat at the slick of your pleasure. You had just come undone from his touch and now you could feel yourself wanting more. You were wanton for more. Only he could make you feel this way.

“Words in full, my love.” he coaxes, his tone teasing but firm. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Kento.” you admit, voice breaking as you finally surrender to his command. “It’s you—only you.It’s always been you.”

And with that, he kisses you as he finds himself wanting more of you, as much as you wanted more of him. You gave him everything, and he gave you everything. You wanted to be whole, consumed by the existence of the other.

The air thickens with desire as his touch shifts from lingering to deliberate, the rhythm between you growing more urgent. You brace yourself, your body trembling in anticipation, and then, with a careful, controlled movement, he enters you.

A sharp inhale catches in your throat, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. You gasp, every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to the edge of something deeper, something more consuming. Your body trembles in the wholeness of him.

He began to move at a slow pace and then soon enough, with that eager speed. Your legs crossed against his back, and your arms crossed against his shoulders. You could only hold on for dear life as he pushes in and out of you in a pace that took your breath away.

Every inch of him stretches you, each motion slow yet intentional, designed to leave you breathless, wanting more. Kento’s gaze never leaves yours, intense and searching, as though he’s reading the unspoken desires written in the way your body responds. The heat between you builds steadily, a slow burn that makes your pulse quicken, your limbs aching with the need to surrender to him entirely.

Everything felt so good.

He made you feel good.

Only he could do it like this.

"Are you okay?" His voice is low, almost reverent, as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

There’s a softness in his caramel eyes, a tenderness beneath the storm of desire that mirrors the vulnerability you feel. His breath is heavy, and yet there’s a careful concern in his touch, as if he's trying to read you, to make sure you're ready for what comes next.

You nod, but words fail you, the overwhelming sensations clouding your ability to speak. Every inch of your being is attuned to him now, to the heat of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, yet all that fills your senses is him. The scent of him, the taste of his skin, the press of his chest against yours. Your slick blending against his own. It was all consuming. How you both fit together. How you were made for each other.

"More, Kento." you whisper, the word barely audible but laced with desperation. It’s not just a plea. No, you were saying it as it is. “Faster.”

You needed him. Every bit of him, every part of him. You wanted it all. The craving in your voice is clear, raw, and unfiltered. The desire that had been simmering between you both is now an undeniable force, impossible to resist.

His lips curl into a small, knowing smile, and something in his gaze shifts, darkens. Without breaking eye contact, he presses forward again, moving with an intensity that speaks of his own growing hunger. His movements are deliberate and calculated, even with the speed he was going at.

It was as if he was savoring every inch, every moment with you. Each stroke is measured, calculated, and yet there's an undercurrent of urgency, as though he's trying to pull you deeper into him, deeper into this shared space where only the two of you exist.

His gaze is intense, a silent communication passing between you both. It's not just about the way he moves or the way he touches you. Everything about it felt like magic. It's how he reads every subtle shift in your body, every small intake of breath, every whisper of need.

He’s attuned to you in a way that goes beyond words, understanding the unspoken pleas you can't voice. It’s like he knows you better than you do yourself. It’s like he’s memorized every part of you. He just knew how to love you whole, completely.

You cried out as he hit that pleasure spot, in and out. The car windows were fogging up with the hot breath echoing out of your lips over and over again. You were certain that just as much, people had noticed the car shaking and rearing with activity at the stop. It was too obvious to see.

The heat between you builds steadily, a slow burn that makes your pulse race, that quickens the rhythm of your heart. You feel it in the way your body responds, how the pressure inside you grows with every shift, every stroke, until it feels like the world is narrowing down to just the two of you. You both were lost in this rhythm of connection, of craving, of surrender. This was all that there was, this universe of you, together.

Your body aches with the need to give in completely, to let him take you fully, to become lost in the feeling of him, of the shared moment. He looked at you and leaned forward, letting his lips take yours. His tongue pushes through against your own in a delicious melee of pleasure. You hummed against his lips as his thrusts got deeper, faster. More desperate.

When he parts from you to gather air in his lungs, he slows for a bit and pulls out, earning a whine. But then in a steady shock, he pushes back in, his hands straying to your back, pulling you closer to him. It was as though he wanted you to melt and blend with his flesh. To become one. He thrusts deeper and deeper, harsher than before. You cry out against his ear.

"Let go, my love." he murmurs, his voice a low, breathy whisper against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’ve got you."

There’s an assurance in his words, a promise that you can surrender, that he’ll be there to catch you, to guide you through whatever comes next. And with those words, everything inside you snaps. The tension, the anticipation, the desire.

Everything unravels in a wave of release, a deep, consuming surrender. You cry out so loud that you think that you were gasping for air for the first time. Nanami Kento hit on your body with a harsh desire last time and felt his own hot pleasure flow through you with a loud roar.

Your body trembles beneath his touch as you lose yourself in him, the rhythm of his movements pulling you deeper into the moment, into the raw intensity of it all. Your grip on him tightens involuntarily, fingers digging into the hardness of his skin, anchoring yourself to the sensation of him.

Each breath comes quicker, more erratic, as you struggle to keep up with the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your eyes flutter closed, and a few tears escape, blurring your vision. But the tears are not from pain. They are from the overwhelming satisfaction, the complete surrender of everything you’d been holding back.

For a moment, you can’t see anything, your body entirely consumed by the sensations coursing through you. It’s like you’ve been plunged into a haze, where nothing exists but the pulse of his touch, the heat of his body against yours. You feel your senses heighten, every movement, every sound reverberating inside you, making your heart race.

And then, slowly, your sight begins to return. Everything is foggy, distorted at first, the edges of the world softened by the force of your pleasure. But as the fog clears, everything sharpens, every detail comes into focus.

And in that moment, it feels like you’ve stepped into something infinite. The universe itself is laid bare before you, and standing at the center of it all, consumed by the same overwhelming force, is him. Everything felt like enlightenment. Life started here.

Kento’s eyes are locked onto yours, dark and intense, holding you captive with every glance, every word unspoken. His face, usually so composed, is now etched with a mixture of hunger and satisfaction, his own breath coming in ragged pulls. You are drawn to him, to the way he fills every corner of your mind, your heart, your body.

"You're... breathtaking, my love." he murmurs, his voice rough, barely audible as he moves against you, his hands cradling your face gently. "So beautiful, at this moment."

The words make your heart ache, the vulnerability in his tone striking you deeply. Your gaze never wavers from his, even as the pleasure inside you begins to coil again, threatening to pull you under once more. It’s not just his touch, not just the way he moves inside you. It’s the way he sees you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only one who matters in the world.

"You’re mine. You always will be." you whisper, your voice trembling with the truth of it. The words come from somewhere deep, primal, raw. You don’t even know where they’ve come from, only that they’re true.

“Am I really?” He snickers, pecking at your jaw with small peppering kisses with exhaustion.

You nodded shyly, smiling at him. "I need you... like this. Always."

Kento smiles at your confession. His grip tightens around you, his lips pressing against your forehead in a soft kiss, almost reverent. For a moment, it was like he’d fallen in love with you again for the very first time again.

"And you have me, my love." he responds, his voice low and full of promise. "All of me. Always."

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