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readerforexiao · 2 months ago

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𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃: 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Reader | romance, angst, fluff | childhood friends to lovers, denial + unspoken feelings + mutual pining, hurt / comfort, canon universe, emotional vulnerability and isolation, trauma ... tba

⌗ "I am human regardless of the power running through my veins. It lies within my heart, my human heart which feels ever so deeply, that I am bound to feeling emotions such as fear, hatred, greed, and love"

⌗ Word Count: 3.3k

⌗ Synopsis: Despite knowing that everything given demanded a price, and everything taken had a cost, Jinwoo would have done everything for you, relinquished all he had. But when granted power without end capable of continuous growth beyond that of limitation, he feared before he reasoned, and in his panic had he pushed you away. Still, you could love him no less even as his presence thinned into absence. Eventually, Jinwoo realized he could only run as far as you'd let him.

⌗ A/n: been working on this since feb. i am as hopeless with my writing as i am hopelessly in love with Jinwoo 💙

THEY MADE, AND IN THEIR MAKING, THEY UNMADE. And it became their legacy retold in history.

For the greatest of empires had they built upon the spine of the land, upon the hum of the earth’s uneven breaths and the shifting of its sands. But as they raised them into lofty castles of grandeur, into bridges that crossed ravines and forded gushing rivers, they had brought them to ruin by the thirst for more. Even the alliances forged by the blood of sacrifice— meant to be immortalised in legend— were cleaved apart with the blade of mistrust wedged deep between the scapula.

Once, when the fields of flowers had been kissed by the sun and caressed by the moon. When forests of old sheltered life beneath the canopy of their trees, and streams of pure birth coursed outward, nourishing all they touched. Light felt softer then. And time must have moved without urgency, too. For even the silence was sure to have been alive, full of meaning, full of breath. Until their petals were plucked and their rivers bloodied.

Trees were splintered. Wings clipped. Skin carved. And it had been such that nothing ever remained untouched. For the blame worthy were indeed beings of flesh— mortal… frail. Frail in what lies inside unspoken of. What mattered most.

They trample and are trampled by what lies beyond their control. And they break and are broken by the hands of those they love, envy… fear.

When the gates appeared and hunters rose from among the panic with powers beyond their grandest desires, disaster had been mistaken for salvation. Hunter Guilds were established to combat the monsters. But beneath their banners, division grew. Subtle at first, then swift, accelerating the downfall of what was already fraying at the seams.

In a cruel game where the strong preyed upon the weak, the greedy devoured the humble, and the wicked turned their blades to the innocent. Sins were repeated, not repented. For the power that descended upon them, disastrous in their hands, would be their undoing.

And so it was to be, as if writ by fate’s hand— humanity were forever doomed to become the ruin of every story. A final chapter none could ever rewrite.

❝𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙼𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜❞

❝𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎.❞ - 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚜

— 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

THE SUN TOOK LEAVE OF THE WORLD, bequeathing to the veil of shadow. The traffic lights turned green, engines stirred, and wheels began rolling. Uproar hurled through the streets as a motorbike wove between the blurred cars, its growl reverberating down the asphalt vein.

In the merging of headlights, you had seen his eyes; the speckle of blue within the grey that surfaced when caught in the gleam of luminosity. Those eyes sought you out, flicking from face to face with urgency, like a caged bird who mourned for the sky. He moved through the world shaped by his tragedies and misfortune, brave yet labelled weak and mocked as a coward.

Life altered him more times than one could count, wearing him down in the most horrid ways. He was the boy who knew pain too intimately, considered it a companion even if it had never been a desired one.

His smile had always held too much apology, stretched over a face that had forgotten genuinity. His shoulders drew taut and his spine locked in rigidness beneath a jacket worn and torn by responsibility and fight; the posture of someone taught by repetition to brace for the worst and never expect anything better, for the clothes on his back and a growing stack of unpaid bills were all he had.

Like a shadow, he carried himself, bowing his head as if he might offend the light. And though he had tried to stay small, to slip by unnoticed, mockery found him like a breath upon his neck all the same, as if daring him to think he deserved even that.

Their words cut deeper than any beast ever did. The sharpness of their laughter and ridicule hollowed him out, but he did what he had to do, even if it made him fold into himself and apologise for being weak and a pathetic stain on the world.

Your hand, cold against the heat of skin, held your neck where the phantom ache of his name still echoed alive.

You remembered the night the call came. When the hospital’s number flashed across your screen and how it hadn’t startled you at first because he had been in and out of emergency rooms enough times for it to feel like a routine. Bruises, fractures, and the occasional concussion, but he never stayed long. He had always walked out alive in the end. But that night had been different when Jinah’s voice, strangled by apprehension, threaded through the call.

The memory became one impossible to shake, for you had leaned close to his motionless body and inhaled the scent of ash and iron until it could not be forgotten. The image of him, every inch of exposed skin buried under gauze and wrapped so thickly it seemed he might disappear beneath it, burned into your mind.

"You idiot... stupid… stupid…" You hadn’t meant to say it in anger, but the words slipped from your quivering lips anyway, too heavy to hold back because so foolish, he was. Always so stubborn and persistent to a fault.

You couldn’t call it strength— what he did. Could not deem such reckless behaviour noble, even if he had done it all to provide for her, to ensure she had what she needed. To carry a burden that should not have been his alone. There was nothing noble about the way his body lay there, broken and unrecognisable beneath the bandages. Nothing admirable in the way he hadn’t stirred for days, no sign that the man you knew was still fighting to come back while his sister, whom he had done it all for, was left with nothing but the unbearable routine of waiting.

She had spent her days running back and forth between the hospital and home despite your protests. Nights were lonely, though she had grown accustomed to it. She always had her phone nearby as she waited for you to call with any change or any sign he would wake. She didn’t have the luxury of giving up. Not while her brother lay there, just like her mother. Not while he had made sure she wouldn’t have to.

Neither of them deserved this. And yet, here they were.

Red lights blinked overhead and as the cars rolled to a stop, you stepped off the curb, swept into the tide of pedestrians, moving like rain dissolving into the ocean, loose, unbothered, flowing with the kind of ease that comes from having somewhere to go but no urgency to get there. But you moved differently, slipping between them, quicker, with purpose. A single note out of tune. Your pace outmatched theirs. You couldn’t walk slowly— not tonight.

Bit by bit, the press of bodies thinned and the noise of car horns and voices had fallen away like smoke in the wind. Eventually, only the quiet rhythm of your breath and your footsteps remained.

Your knuckles struck wood, once, twice, then once more, until after a pause, the door creaked open.

“You're late."

“Work ran overtime," the warm ambience of her home welcoming you as you entered.

"You don't have to lie, you know." She wiggled her brows, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Jinwoo will be happy to see you"

“Dumbass” you muttered more to yourself than her, closing the door behind you.

Jinah went back to her show, drawing her knees up beneath her on the couch. The hum of the program filled the room but your attention drifted elsewhere, onto the shelf where dust clung faintly to the edges of picture frames, untouched for who knew how long. One in particular caught your eye. It was of Jinwoo and Jinah, years younger, caught mid-laughter, their faces bright and unburdened with a joy that no longer visited, a kind that did not belong to the present.

The second frame held a photo of Jinwoo and his mother. He couldn’t have been more than five, clinging to her with the easy trust of a child. His small chin rested against her shoulder as his feet dangled behind her, a supportive hand keeping him steady and sure, as if she’d always known exactly how to hold the weight of someone else’s world.

She was beautiful. Truly beautiful. Touched by the rare grace that only motherhood could shape. Time had aged her in each photo, but not unkindly for she wore her maturity well, like silk and aged wine, bearing those marks with pride. You saw a woman who lived, perhaps not perfectly, but wholly. A woman who had loved deeply, lost deeply, and still found a way to keep going.

When your eyes opened, the memory had receded. Still, her eyes sought yours in the familiar blur of your vision. But as your focus returned fully, you realised you had mistaken Jinah for her mother. Had come close enough to forget just how long it has been since.

You ruffled Jinah’s hair, like her mother had once done to you and she swatted your hand away, urging you to her brother’s room before you could do it again.

You made your way down the hallway, where the walls had been lined with so many memories, some of which you could only vaguely recall. Crayon drawings curled at the edges, left untouched since their mother fell ill. Neither of the siblings had the heart to take them down, despite how much they grew to hate them, for she loved those scrappy stick figures and food-stained paper. Above those childish doodles there hung a neat row of school certificates tucked into tarnished gold frames. Jin-ah’s name had stood out in bold across them, impossible to miss. Achievement after achievement. You loitered there in search of a name that never appeared and never would, and you moved on… what else could you do.

The door to Jinwoo’s room stood ajar. You peered inside. Livid greys and a gentle white light bled from the computer screen where he sat hunched over, his shoulders slouched and his spine curved in a way that suggested he’d been sitting there for hours staring at the monitor yet not really seeing it.

You didn’t knock. You hardly ever did. You offered the door a cursory nudge with your knuckles at most, but even that was rare. More often, you pressed it open the rest of the way and slipped inside if he hadn’t already been the one to draw you in first.

The creaking hinges might as well have been a greeting.

“Jinah was right…” you walked in, “You are brooding."

The mattress dipped beneath your weight with a muted groan, but still had he yet to acknowledge you. For a bated breath, nothing changed.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, swivelling his chair to face you. When his voice came to be, it came with the faintest brush of retraction and you were caught off guard by the low timbre.

Caught in a moment of process, you hadn’t replied, but your attention directed elsewhere, and Jinwoo followed your gaze to his desk where the clutter offered an unmistakable answer to his own question.

He understood immediately.

You wouldn’t have come all this way, at this hour by choice, not when he had made his distance so glaringly evident. He thought.

His eyes faltered on the cans of beer strewn across the surface, then moved to the one in his hand. A fleeting twitch of his fingers betrayed the desire to sweep them aside, out of your view, but he reined it in and tilted his head back, his throat working with practised ease as took a large gulp.

There had been no visible sign of intoxication on him, nothing in his posture to suggest the careless abandon of too much drink, and his movements, too, were steady and unshaken as he lowered it and settled it amongst the rest, making you pause because you knew something hadn't been quite right; you just couldn’t prove it beyond mere speculation.

“… You always had a bad sense of timing,” he said, blinking in short intervals until the distance in them fled, and he'd been something other than what was in front of him.

For some reason, discomfort slithered up your spine at the way he looked at you, the way he said that, as though a centipede had begun its crawl with a thousand legs prickling your nerves and seeking to burrow beneath your skin.

“I wasn’t planning on coming”, you confessed reluctantly, unable to voice what troubled you. Only that it had been marked in the fringe framing his eyes and in the finger tapping against the second-hand clock on his thigh.

“Then why did you?” he prodded.

“Because I gave you two weeks”

So you had known.

Part of him felt relieved, but the rest simmered with frustration. “So it’s not because Jinah called you?”

“She did, yes,” you admitted, “but I would have come around sooner or later”

All this time, Jinwoo believed he was successfully avoiding you when really you had only been allowing him that.

He stared at you.

You had always managed to complicate things for him and all along had he known your presence to be too much for him to resist, that a second in your company and he’d be bound to your every whim and tied to a mess of emotions he spent too long pretending he could move beyond. But in truth, he hadn’t because he knew he could not. Not really.

He lifted the can to his lips when your hand came upon his and stilled his movement. He smiled then, behind the metal. Though not with joy or relief or even bitterness, but because your touch aroused what he knew he was at present and perhaps for much of his life he would be undeserving of.

“You never ask,” He uttered in a breath almost missing, a breath nearly lost.

“Would you have answered?”

Fair enough.

He’d give you that.

Still… You never pried. Never pushed him into corners where he had to confront things he wasn’t ready to face, as if you perfected the balance of letting him come to you while at the same time knowing when to pull him by the ear and rein him in, and that frustrated him as it did attract him.

You took the can from him.

Although he hated it, he knew you were right. There was no use pretending anymore. No use keeping up the act. You had obviously caught on, and Jinwoo, astute and self-aware, knew better than to waste time on futility. He couldn’t push you away any further. And honestly, he no longer wanted to.

Annoying. His head fell against your stomach. Did you always have to be so... you?

“I would have answered,” he affirmed, “If only you had been the one to ask.”

Jinwoo’s hands encircled your wrists, his hold gentle and his touch almost pleading, like someone drowning alone for far too long. As if he had weathered shifting tides that pulled the shore from beneath him, endured squalls that reshaped the very landscape around him.

Like a man who clawed for the surface, desperate for the blaze of the sunlight in his eyes, for the agony of breath to tear through his lungs and burn the salt from his throat, he needed proof that he was still alive. That the scars and shattered bones, torn limbs and bloodied tears, all meant something.

Then again, it’s not like he gave you the chance to ask.

With your heart racing ahead of your breaths, your palm smoothed over his head. He hummed low in his throat, pressing closer to your abdomen. Close. Maybe too close. But not uncomfortable. Not awkward. You were still the same to him, in all the things that stirred his memories with fondness.

“I like the haircut, by the way,” you remarked, still threading gently through his hair, curling at the ends, scratching lightly at his scalp in a way you knew he liked.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he said flatly, leaning back.

“I’m not, you look good. Like you aged overnight in a cool, ‘I’m a reliable older brother who has his act together and is single-parenting his teenage sister while somehow managing not to emotionally combust’ kind of way.”

You tried to ruffle his hair, but he caught your wrist, slightly irked. “That was oddly specific and sounded much like an insult”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. You look the part of a mature young man, put together and all. Girls like that sort of thing.”

His grip tightened slightly in warning, not enough to hurt.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, tugging your hand back. “But seriously, how many poor souls fainted?”

Jinwoo was unimpressed. “You’re the worst.”

“That’s not a number,” you replied in a sing-song.

He exhaled through his nose, the closest thing he ever got to a laugh when you really pushed him. “You are worse than Jinah”

“High praise,” you grinned.

Jinwoo dropped onto his bed without ceremony, back hitting the mattress with a soft thud, one arm tucked behind his head. “That wasn’t a compliment”

Oh, but it was. You sank into his chair.

Jinwoo turned onto his side to face you.

The fear that had gripped him each time death pressed so near he could taste it always ended the same: with a final prayer. For himself. For the ones he’d leave behind. His mother and father would never see the boy who had raised himself into a man worthy of their pride. Only Jinah would remain to walk a path alone, chasing dreams they might never witness unless some cruel mercy woke their mother from her endless sleep, or brought their father from wherever he had disappeared to.

And you… whom he had loved longer than he had dared to breathe it aloud.

Back when, in the muck and dust of your childhood, your small fists had burrowed into the sand, not knowing the handfuls you threw found their way to him. He could only stand there taking it, his eyes wide but in awe, as if the hole you dug were a hundred-dollar bill placed into the hands of a struggling man. He had known it then, even. Perhaps not as love entirely, but as something precious to him.

The tide rose and washed into the holes he carved out since the disaster of the double dungeon, and further, into the fissures time had hidden and never healed. The fear of losing you had kept him at bay as he grew because it was better to remain your friend than to gamble and lose what little joy life had given.

Jinwoo exhaled, long and dreary, letting the dolefulness fall with the breath, he called your name so softly, so full of care and affection.

“I missed you”

You swallowed hard, blinking like it might steady the way the room tilted around your heart.

It wasn’t fair!

The way he said things like that and didn’t seem to realise they landed like an arrow between your ribs. Like he could just drop a quiet I missed you after pushing you away and not expect the ground to shift under your feet and unsettle you.

But that was Jinwoo, wasn’t it? Never loud about what mattered, but never careless either.

“I missed you, too” you whispered.

And he smiled.

He smiled. His eyes fluttering close, lashes falling against the tops of his cheeks, and for once, there was no tension in his brow, no shadows carved beneath his eyes. Just the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing as sleep found him.

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readerforexiao · 2 months ago

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𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐞: 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

I looked into his eyes and the world unfurled. I felt love take root, undying and true, immortal. As if time bent to make room for what bloomed in my chest. My skin stirred beneath the brush of his fingers. For the first time in all my life, I felt safe inside myself. Parted from fear and self hatred and embraced by recognition. Acceptance moved through me like blood, finding its way to the corners I kept hidden. I grew to cherish the imperfections I once cursed.

And in his eyes held starlight— wild and wondrous— the stories from my books came alive. The tales of falling into the arms of what the world deemed a monster became my hero, my reality.

When he looked at me, I came undone. Years of misfortune and pain peeled back until I stood bare. Cracked open. My tears spent. My soul in pieces. He knelt before me and gathered the shards of my broken heart with bare hands, let them slice into his fingers, let blood draw forth. And not once did he flinch. He held them out to me, his declaration as unwavering as the steadiness in his eyes.

When he blinked, the emotions did not fade. It didn't flee. Did not run nor dull over the course of time. It remained. He remained.. a constant in the ever changing of tides and passing of moon cycles. And where the shattered pieces had been, there laid a gem, brilliant and glaring red, shaped like a heart. It pulsed. Its first beat echoed like a vow. Etched into its center: never will this heart cease to beat, never will it wither. And around it, wrapped in crimson threads, was his name. Bound to it. Bound to me.

#love and deepspace #sylus #lnds #lnd sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds #lnd #lads #sylus x mc #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #qoutes #romance

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readerforexiao · 3 months ago

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resurrected for my beautiful birthday boy

#sylus #love and deepspace

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readerforexiao · 5 months ago

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𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Itoshi Sae x Reader | fluff, romance | word count: 1k

⌗ A/n: i love this man. I love having thoughts about him. Also is tumblr ruining the quality of my banner?? :(

⌗ "For a peck could leave you breathless and lightheaded, but a kiss— his kiss— could unravel you piece by piece, leaving you vulnerable to everything he promised."

Sae doesn’t kiss you often, but when he does, it is always special and deeply meaningful.

Slow. That is how it begins. Not necessarily in the sense that it drags on endlessly, but in the way he ensures every second counts.

Sae lingers still at first, unmoving, as if savoring the closeness. Then, with the softest, almost hesitant of motions, his lips brush against yours to test the waters, relearning and remembering their shape. His movements are deliberate, intentional, so much that he needs to feel the intimacy bursting between you both before he even dares to consider it a kiss.

He leaves gentle pecks, his tongue barely grazing your lower lip and it sends a shiver down your spine, sparking what you cherished most, his attentiveness.

His eyes remain open and gazing at you before they flutter shut and he indulges himself.

It all happens in mere seconds, yet it feels like time stretches on with every heartbeat sundering and unweaving the threads of your resolve.

His touch. Fingers that brush along the length of your forearms, tracing over soft, pampered skin— provokes a shiver to cascade down your spine. It elicits goosebumps, a subtle reaction but so dearly cherished by him. It ripples through your very being, how he can love you such that it gravitates towards your core and embraces it.

And your soul unfurls for him. Like two ends of a string destined to intertwine, they meet, his love anchoring itself in your heart and becoming home.

The world dissolves into a haze until all that remains is the weight of his forehead resting against yours and his hands steady but sure as they hold you close.

Sae knows that when you kiss, it is meant to be a moment where his guarded walls are lowered and you can feel the sincerity of his feelings.

It amazes you to no end how he, known to be cold and blunt in his ways and relentless in his drive, is able to pour all the words he cannot say, the emotions he struggles to express, and the love that seems to overwhelm him beyond his ability to comprehend— into a single, fleeting gesture and mean it so passionately, for there’s a strange comfort in how he can engulf the emptiness when you’re at your lowest.

There have been times before when others offered comfort, only to unintentionally leave you feeling even more depleted. Sae somehow replenishes you without taking a piece of your soul.

He fills that empty glass with delicacy that not a drop manages to spill through the cracks. His effort is there, albeit subtle. It is never overwhelming and restores what's been used without leaving you more exhausted.

So yes, Itoshi Sae may not be the most expressive or the most forthcoming with displays of affection, but he is far from unware of your feelings and your rights. In his own quiet way, he respects and understands you, always finding a compromise that neither discomforts him nor deprives you.

Like during mundane tasks, such as house shopping when he walks with his arms slack at his sides, the distance between you blurring as his pinky purposefully brushes against yours. Before you know it, he takes your hand loosely in his, not even realizing that simple act is calming the anxiety within you.

Whether it’s a grand event or something small, Sae remains the star of the show and the center of spotlight. Always. And though never one to entertain the crowds, his presence was strong, the protectiveness and loyalty toward you undeniable!

As you leave the venue spent and yearning for the plush of your mattress, under the night sky and stars glimmering the pathway of your leave, his hand settles on your arm, gently running up and down to warm you, because unfortunately he is not wearing a blazer he can offer.

Sae pulls you a little closer to his side, opens the car door for you, straps you in, and presses a passing kiss to your temple.

Or maybe it’s a random Saturday evening, and he has nothing on his agenda. He’s doing what he does during resting periods, not resting, when he hears you moving about in the kitchen.

For a while, he’s content with that— the simple sounds of you being near, a reminder that you’re there. Then, without a sound, he appears in the doorway as the TV hums in the background, a distant murmur. His laptop and work were forgotten.

You’re caught off guard when he peeks over your shoulder to see what’s cooking in the pan.

“Sae?”

He doesn’t respond and merely glances at you from the periphery of his vision, shrugging before he pulls out a barstool and grabs his phone. He settles into the kitchen, preferring to be closeby while you cook or bake.

On nights after long games and yet another win, the front door clicks open, soon followed by the shower spraying. When he finally settles into bed in nothing but boxers, a low hum draws out in relief as he feels your skin against his own, bare and warm. He lays there, watching you from his side of the bed, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek.

“Beautiful” he says softly but aloud, and you hear it. You always do, just before you drift off to sleep. You’re happy, knowing you’re loved by the man beside you.

Thus, the passion beneath his exterior easily seeps through if given time— and time, your relationship had been built upon.

Itoshi Sae, who doesn’t kiss you often, takes every time he does with utmost seriousness! There is nothing more important to him than proving to you that he wants you, he loves you, and he is yours. He will always be yours.

For a peck could leave you breathless and lightheaded, but a kiss— his kiss— could unravel you piece by piece, leaving you vulnerable to everything he promised.

You look forward to every meeting of your lips, and Sae, little by little grows obsessed. Fearing one day, he may not want to leave your lips alone, because already he finds himself losing to the pull of it.

But no matter how often or rarely it happens, whether a little or much more, each kiss is special— and so it shall remain.

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readerforexiao · 6 months ago

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Random obsession that just started yesterday. Jason Todd

#jason todd #red hood

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readerforexiao · 6 months ago

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"Making you feel loved, that's all there is to me"

#lads sylus #love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x mc #lnd sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace aesthetic #lads au #lads photobooth #lads headcanons #l&ds

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readerforexiao · 7 months ago

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𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄? 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒?... 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑷𝑺 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ L&DS boys x Reader [separately] | fluff headcannon | tw: kissing? perrhap a little suggestive | word count: 2.3k

⌗ A/n: it's marinated in my drafts long enough.

⌗ "A real man will ruin your lipstick and not your mascara"

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ⤺ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 |

• At times, random and most unexpected, Xavier's hand would reach to grip your chin with more force than he meant to, and with the suddenness of such a gesture it made your wide and startled eyes instantaneously direct their attention to him

• His expression softened and silently conveyed his sincerest apology.

• But determined he was, if not anything else as he tilted his head in concentration. There was intent circling his mind, a purpose to his actions.

• You called his name, but with the hold he had on your chin, his fingers squeezing into your cheeks, the words could only come out muffled.

• "Sorry," He said, ever sweetly.

• The velvety brush coated in gloss was still in your hand, frozen. You couldn’t move because you were caught in the tension between his touch and the undeniable pull of his gaze.

• The room felt smaller, quieter.

• "You've got pretty lips," Xavier remarked, his words spilling out in a familiar, lazy drawl.

• Without missing a beat he used his thumb to tidy the smudges where you messed up, his touch unhurried and intimate.

• The reaction he stirred was so consuming that the flutter of your eyes came instinctively and the swarm of butterflies that unfurled their wings deep in your stomach never ceased to leave you utterly breathless.

• You thought nothing else could ever suprise you, that you had seen it all. But this was Xavier, and there was hardly any choice but to learn to accept the spontaneity of his actions, for he only ever meant them endearingly, and they definitely would not stop any time soon.

• So, as you turned to focus elsewhere, Xavier seized the chance yet again to catch you off guard.

• He stole a kiss as effortlessly as he had swept you off your feet and made you fall head over heels in love with him.

• His lips had become sticky with product, and all at once, the world around you disappeared by the heat of his touch.

• "You taste nice," he said with a slow, deliberate smile while you gasped his name.

• "Xavier" You flicked his forehead with a touch too light to ever do any harm, and he didn't mind as he swiped another coat of your gloss.

• But this kiss was different— slower and deeper as if he couldn’t quite get enough of you.

• The gloss on your lips tasted sweeter as it mingled with the heat building between you and the saliva exchanged.

• His fingers cupped your face and you gently nudged him back needing air.

• As you pulled away, you noticed your lips had lost their perfect coating and the evidence of his greed and inability to resist his desire shimmering on his own.

• "Could get used to that." He poked his tongue out, licking his lips and savoring the taste.

• "Come here," you muttered under your breath.

• With his face held in the palm of your hand, your thumb brushed away the remnants left behind.

• While you did that he kissed your thumb sweetly, his lips warm and tended against your skin and the simple gesture of affection made you melt.

• "Can't wear anything around you..." You shook your head, but the kiss you pressed to his cheek gave away just how much you adored it.

• He smiled cheekily, "That's fine. I prefer you in nothing too”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ⤺ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 |

• Zayne was always one to seek approval and consent no matter the task.

• His stoic demeanor was tempered with unwavering patience and yet, the one time he set that discipline aside was when he drew a small vial from his pocket, removed the lid, and asked you to part your lips.

• Your confusion barely registered when his eyes were already trained firmly on your mouth.

• And almost too intently did he watch as you complied without hesitation and allowed his cold fingers to gently cradle your chin.

• The tip pressed against the curve of your chapped lower lip, lingering there without hurry.

• Zayne held his breath and paused upon the realization that he had been much too lost in the depth of your gaze.

• He snapped out of his thoughts and silently chastised himself for being so easily distracted.

• But could he blame himself for admiring you? For getting lost in your eyes and the amusement prancing around in that little head of yours.

• "Don't smile," He warned with a brow raised in challenge.

• But he knew he'd been caught and the teasing that would follow would be relentless.

• "Your breath tickles," you murmured, a strained smile tugging at your lips that he did not approve of.

• "Hold still!" His fingers tightened, shaping a small pout on your lips.

• His voice, low and authoritative yet never without a gentlemanly edge, sent a rush of giddiness spiraling through you.

• Zayne was meticulous in handling matters, no less for the wand he grasped and the manner he carefully applied the product, afraid to even stray a single swipe beyond the natural shape of your lips.

• The silence was electrifying and charged with a tension he effortlessly incited.

• You knew applying a simple coat of gloss should never have taken that long nor felt so intense, but it was Zayne and that was an explanation enough.

• He had a way about him, a unique allure that managed to turn even the most mundane actions into a captivating experience, a feeling both familiar and irresistibly attractive.

• You felt like you were being seduced and Zayne, fully aware, had intended for it to be exactly that way.

• It was frustrating; to stomach and resist the itch to grab him by the collar and kiss him fiercely until only a trace of glitter and glow remained in your wake.

• When the job was done, Zayne would gaze at your lips and then move slowly over your face before taking in your entire body from head to toe, his look a little more suggestive than innocent.

• His voice broke the silence with a hint of annoyance lacing his words as he pulled back to admire and assess (judge) his work, "Did you really have to smile so much?"

• You shrugged. If he only knew how it was impossible not to because he had that kind of effect on you even when you tried to resist it, and you hardly ever did.

• Zayne's lips curled as he took your hand and pressed a reverent kiss to its back.

• But one fluid motion, his heart took control and he drew you flush against his chest, bending you slightly backward as he leaned over and kissed you until the gloss smeared onto his lips.

• If it was going to be ruined, he figured it might as well be by him.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ⤺ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 |

• No doubt, there were benefits to having an artistic partner.

• Someone whose hands seemed sculpted for creating masterpieces.

• Rafayel was an artist through and through in both mind, hand, and heart.

• Each of his movements purposeful and precise, carrying both skill and intention.

• It made him reliable when he did your makeup (and he loved doing your makeup).

• Unlike the times when his stubborn nature left him dissatisfied with his paintings and drove him to pursue an ever-elusive sense of perfection, when it came to you that restlessness was replaced by something softer and entirely more patient.

• He watched you through the mirror as you wiped away your fifth attempt at getting the perfect winged liner, frustration etched onto your features.

• Without a word, he closed the distance and perched his chin atop your shoulder. "Let me."

• His skills far surpassed yours in both creativity and execution and it made you jealous as he worked with seemingly minimum struggle.

• "You make it look so easy,"

• You couldn't see what he was doing but you trusted him— proven by past experience that he never failed to flawlessly do your makeup to your liking.

• He smirked without looking up, "Years of practice... and raw talent, obviously."

• "Humble as ever."

• He chuckled, the sound tapering into something still as your gaze held his, open and unguarded and filled with wonder and admiration for something he thought nothing of.

• For a moment he forgot what he was doing and his fingers stilled against your skin.

• "Maybe I just like impressing you." (And expressing myself),

• He unfurrowed his tensed brows before going back to tracing strokes of pigment across your eyelids and brushing soft hues against your cheeks.

• This wasn’t just about getting every detail right. No, it was about you and you weren’t just a canvas to him but a muse and his favorite masterpiece.

• When it was time to focus on your lips, resisting the urge to steal a kiss was nearly impossible that his mouth descended quick, taking your breath for a second as invasively as he'd stolen that kiss.

• It earned him a look that, too, was worth it because Rafayel liked the way you looked at him, no matter the expression, as long as your gaze was on him.

• "What arr yyo doin?..." you muffled, unable to talk clearly when his thumb parted your lips and pressed against your tongue.

• "Keeping you still"

• And still you remained with the erratic pulse in your veins so intense that it kept you so occupied you barely noticed the time passing until he stopped.

• "Already?" You turned to the mirror, pleasantly amazed but not entirely unexpected.

• Rafayel stood with his arms crossed, his finger tapping gently as you marveled at how perfectly they'd been drawn, the subtle color blooming in a way that felt just right.

• You were completely smitten with the result.

• "Best thing about it..." He nudged your chin to the side, guiding your gaze toward him.

• Then he kissed you, his mouth tilting just right as yours met his in a perfectly slotted puzzle piece.

• "It's kiss-proof," he murmured against your mouth with a grin that made your heart skip.

• "Kiss proof, huh?"

• "Absolutely," he responded, "No smudges, no fading... just the perfect finish."

• You couldn't help but laugh, "You think of everything, don't you?"

• He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your ear. "Only for you."

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ⤺ 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 |

• Doing any kind of makeup had been nearly impossible when Sylus was around.

• It wasn’t just that he had an uncanny ability to sense the exact moment you planned to start but he inevitably gravitated toward you.

• He had this kind of persistent need for subtle jabs of affection, demanding your attention every minute of the day as if the world couldn’t turn without you and attention from you.

• It made trying to focus on anything else feel like a battle— one you rarely won.

• On a daily basis, you ended up keeping it simple with just lashes because it had become a sport to Sylus.

• He made it his mission to present himself in your space and always managed to ruin even the smallest effort you put into your routine.

• No attempt was safe from his need to disrupt.

• Now formal events were a frequent occurrence for both of you always tied to work, and most times you found yourselves attending them side by side.

• You sat before your vanity with your breath held in concentration as you rummaged through your little drawer to decide what color you'd settle for.

• You were rather determined to make tonight's appearance look a little more daring, aiming for something bold yet refined.

• Then, Sylus appeared, his timing perfect.

• "Really, sweetie?" he remarked, his voice tinged with disapproval as he leaned against the doorway.

• "Go away," you said without sparing a glance back at him, already anticipating his antics.

• "I don't think I will," he replied, his eyes reflecting with mischief as he sauntered into the room, stood behind you and rested his hands on the back of your chair.

• "You're not going to mess this up!" you warned.

• He feigned innocence.

• "Of course not, sweetie," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I wouldn't dare... but you know I can't help myself around you..."

• "Well you're going to tonight" you muttered, adjusting the small table mirror before tracing an outline around your lips.

• And of course a flicker of challenge passed over Sylus' features because he loved these little games, it made everything a tad more exciting.

• "We'll see..." Sylus observed you from a respectable distance then after.

• But as you immersed yourself in perfectly executing the desire look of a deep red tint across your lips you hadn’t paused for a second to wonder why Sylus refrained from interrupting.

• Despite the urge to tease you he found himself rather captivated by your elegance and focused and observed you with a quiet fascination that was uncharacteristic for him.

• You stood up after the finished product, dabbing a little matte shimmer onto your cheeks before taking a step back to admire your work.

• Sylus gaze locked onto yours in the mirror before he turned you around with a lazy smirk, eyeing you up and down.

• He let the silence stretch between you, taking in every detail.

• "You look stunning, I almost don’t want to ruin this," he added, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw, a teasing hint in his touch.

• "Don't you dare" you pointed a finger at him and he chuckled, kissing your hairline.

• For someone who usually ruined your makeup with his kisses, he was surprisingly considerate tonight.

• But little did you expect when he tugged at his tie and unbuttoned the first button and pulled it to the side, revealing a glimpse of his neck.

• "Kiss," he said, his smirk wry and confident as if you wouldn't deny him.

• Wide-eyed, you shook your head, trying to move away, but his hand was already holding you firmly in place.

• "Where do you think you're running to, kitten?" he murmured, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from escaping.

• He couldn't be the one to mess up your makeup tonight, but you hadn't said anything about yourself.

• And a few kiss marks and smeared lipstick on his collarbone would be a bonus.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads headcanons #lnds x reader #lnds headcanons #zayne fluff #sylus fluff #rafayel fluff #xavier fluff

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readerforexiao · 7 months ago

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Oh sweet soul, @dilucsleftshoelace , I appreciate this so much. It made my days and kept me in high spirits, thank u so much 💙🫂

#memories ᯓ 🪼#ilysm

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readerforexiao · 7 months ago

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When I was younger, I dreamed of living in Rivendell among the elves. I imagined their world as my home— its beauty, elegance, light, and serene peace. But now, I find myself longing for Rohan. I crave the warmth of the sun, the sweeping fields and rolling hills, the sound of wind in the grass under open skies, and the crackling of coal fires in the hearth.

#lord of the rings #lotr #rohan #rivendell #tolkien

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readerforexiao · 7 months ago

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𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Itoshi Sae x Reader | angst, open ending?? | tw: heartbreak/seperation, self worth issues, emotional neglect, codependency/unbalanced relationship, fear of abandonment, internalized guilt, self blame, | wc: 1.4k

⌗ A/n: Honestly, I never planned on writing for Blue Lock because I don't feel confident enough to be able to capture their characters to my liking. But I’m hoping this is a decent first attempt <3 (i use the term soccer but changed it to football bcs..)

⌗ "To love you was to lose you. But as it turns out I never really had you to begin with"

“I always knew,” you admitted, the words leaving your lips heavier than you’d imagined. It would appear confronting the truth out loud, stripped away the barriers of ignorance and bliss, making it feel much too real and inescapable.

“And it was enough…”

A tear gathered in the corners of your eyes like an unwelcomed tide. The moisture blurred your sight, clinging stubbornly to the edges as if hesitant to fall, but the weight of emotion behind them pressed forward.

Your thumb trembled as it traced the apples of his cheeks, the motion delicate and almost reverent. Your touch lingered with hesitancy and perhaps for the last time, you thought in bitter sweetness as it settled in your chest like stone, for the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips felt so real but the uncertainty made it feel like the distance between you had never been wider.

He said nothing as he looked you in the eye, his expression unreadable and his mind an empty canvas— or perhaps a ruined masterpiece, where vibrant colors and once-clear memories bled into shadows that left only smudges of black, where the only hope of restoration and of salvation seemed to lie in wiping it clean and starting anew.

“You’re not hard to love, Itoshi Sae.” Your voice faltered, but the honesty behind it rang clear contrasting with his face through the blurring bleakness of your vision, which wavered like a fragment of a dream slipping beyond reach, as if he were already beginning to dissolve from your life.

If anything you must admit that the past year apart only made you desperate to love him more, aching for nothing more than the sight of him, your heart pulsing for his touch and for his fingers to weave through yours despite his careful distance with physicality.

Sae’s gaze peered into your soul and his pupils dilated, beckoning you into an everlasting silence as his grip on your waist faltered, fearing that like everything else you would slip through his fingers, like sand carried away by the wind into nothingness— lost alongside his former self and the desires he long abandoned to the tides of forgetting.

A slow breath passed from him with the faintest of tension in his jaw as he processed what you said. His eyes were empty and his hands, numb as they fell to his sides almost mechanically. “Is it worth it?”

For as long as you’d known him, Itoshi Sae never uttered such a thing that allowed even the slightest hint of vulnerability to pass his lips. He never let the quiet ache of it slip free.

His life, his single-minded pursuit of greatness had always been a wall and a boundary he never let anyone cross. He always expected you to walk away eventually, to realize what he was— how cold and distant he could truly be— and leave. At the time, the thought of you leaving didn’t seem to hurt at all. He believed he’d be able to move forward and continue as he always did— chasing after a goal, never allowing failure to deter him, because in time that persistence paid off and he learned never to falter again.

Why was this so different?

Why did he find himself yearning to understand what it was like to feel the way you did, to experience that unfiltered hunger that pulsed in your veins.

He could perhaps draw a parallel of his obsession with football to your devotion to him but it would be weak, pitiful even, because the look in your eyes was something beyond comprehension, something pure and genuine, greedy but not in the way he was greedy for success.

It was a hunger that didn’t claw at the world for dominance but sought something he could hardly remember: a kind of affection and affinity so unmeasurable and untouchable.

In that moment, he realized it was beyond him and that he would never truly be able to grasp.

“You’re worth every effort”

“…You’re a fool,” he muttered, but there was no malice in his voice.

You could feel the weight of his emotions in that sentence. The longing in your chest burned, but you knew no matter how much you reached for him, no matter how desperately your heart called out— it wouldn’t be enough to pull him back.

“… In everything else, but never for loving you.”

Ever stubborn, he might have smiled if not for the suffocating melancholy coiling around his throat like a tightening noose.

“You make it sound so simple,” he said, his tone flat, “Like I could change, or let myself be something else. But that’s not who I am. I’ve never been anything other than the pursuit of my ambition. I’ve built my entire life around this… around what I’ve become”

You understood it more than you ever wanted to because loving him was like admiring a flame that burned so brightly it scorched your heart in return. His passion, his arrogance, both were impossible to ignore and somehow endearing. But to love someone like Itoshi Sae meant accepting the inevitable loss because he’d never truly be yours. Not yet. Not in this lifetime. Maybe not ever.

You held your quivering lip hostage between your teeth, your hands shaking as they fumbled restlessly in front of you.

Sae looked at you, his heart a mess of conflict, wavering in a way he couldn’t shut it up. Fuck… he couldn’t do this. He was so cruel for taking your hand and pressing it to his lips.

The warmth of his touch seered itself into you, a memory carved into the deepest corners of your mind, destined to be punished by the sin of remembering.

“You say I’m worth it,” His breath caressed your knuckles, “But is it worth it for you? To love someone like me, someone who’s never been able to love you back the way you deserve?”

Your time together had been marked by missed anniversaries, quiet nights where the words that needed to be spoken were left unsaid. Too many moments passed without enough kisses, without enough attention.

But still, you wanted to tell him that it meant everything to you— the flowers he’d leave on the table, the small, neatly wrapped gifts with his name on the card.

He was distant, fumbling through the things he didn’t know how to express or handle, but those little gestures in place of him filled you with happiness.

How could you explain to him just how much those stolen moments meant to you? The times you’d slip into the living room while he was busy, leaning over the back of the couch to steal a kiss, and how he’d subtly tilt his head, creating the perfect space for your face to rest between his ear and shoulder, or how he never once missed the chance to meet your lips, even in passing.

How could you tell him that is what you cherished without it seeming like you were sinking in denial and desperation?

“It’s enough,” you whispered, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt. You didn’t need anything more, just him, as he was.

“Until it wasn’t,” Sae murmured, saying what you couldn’t. He slowly loosened your grip, his hands guiding yours away, letting them drop in front of you.

He was letting you go…

As he pulled away, a suffocating heaviness settled in his chest— he was going to leave you with nothing but the ache of all his failures. And you couldn’t help but feel that it might be the last time he’d touch you like that

“I…” His words barely alive before his hand tangled its way into your hair and pulled you close until his lips crashed against yours with a desperation that twisted something deep inside him.

The kiss was torn, like a fragile thread snapping under the strain of something too heavy to hold. It was clumsy and urgent— agonizing and broken as the world crumbled between you.

A tear, unnoticed at first, broke free and drifted between your mouths, a silent testament to all that was buried deep within him.

He was crying…

But of course, it was just like him to remain so impossibly composed.

“You deserve better than me…” His words hit with finality, leaving no room for argument. “You deserve someone who can give you all the attention and time that I can’t.”

“Maybe I do… But I wish that person was you”

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readerforexiao · 8 months ago

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"Do I meet your expectations, My Lady?" — Sylus 08/11/24

#THAT IS A PROMPT IM TELLING U #lnds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #lnd sylus #love and deepspace #lnds #lnd #l&ds

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readerforexiao · 8 months ago

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𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Gojo Satoru x Reader | angst no comfort, canon compliant, no happy ending | tw: star crossed lovers, sacrificial love, sacrifice, death, grief, fated for tragedy, emotional distress, self blame, suicidal ideation | wc: 1.4k

⌗ A/n: please please cry with me someone because I spent my entire morning watching sad edits on TikTok

⌗ "The greatest sorcerer to ever live, the kindest soul to ever love. The last of our hope, bearing the weight of our pain so we could dream and laugh, if only for a moment."

You find Satoru on the rooftop with his back turned and his legs dangling over the edge— as if he were a single heartbeat away from the descend into freedom.

A quiet, breathless sigh drifted from your lips in wisps of mist that dissipated into the frigid air, each one cold but not enough to diminish the warmth that swelled within you at the sight of him, framed against the night sky, his hair gleaming beneath the watchful glow of the moon.

Still, he managed to stand out brightly even amidst the web of stars and city lights—impossible to ignore, drawing your attention like a beacon of strength.

He was, afterall, the strongest. Satoru Gojo— the man who lived on despite the final song of his heart ending before it had the chance to dance. The man who made the darkest of nights feel the safest, whose arms became the only home you’d ever known and whose shoulder was the only place your tears found comfort.

“Do you think you’ll miss this sight?” He asked without turning back to look at you, knowing that it was you because only you could find him when he did not want to be found.

Time seemed to stretch like a taut string. The silence gave way to the lump in your throat, each shaky step bringing you closer as you observed in longing at the way his hair ruffled in the wind. And despite not being able to see you, you nodded. You would miss it— more than anything in the world.

He watched over the city, but you watched over him. That is why you noticed what he held in his hand.

The first tear broke free and the rest followed in an unbroken stream out of your control, almost mirroring the way you had fallen for a man beyond your reach over and over again, or the way your hearts hurried in pursuit of peace and meaning that was never written to be yours.

You never feared chasing after him, never allowed the weight of despondency to seep in. Even when all he could offer was his back turned to you in rejection— the very silhouette you'd seen just before chaos erupted.

There was a sad awakening in that moment as you realized it would become the portrait of your most longed-for view, an image destined to fade from memory.

When you reached your hand out to grasp him, it was caught in the wind, left unmet, as if the universe itself were reminding you of the gulf between dreams and reality.

"I'm not afraid to die..."

Your knees crumbled to the ground as he laid bare the truth to the question you once dared to ask. There suspended in the air— what he never admitted, even to himself, only to you.

You couldn’t care less about the pain shooting through your body as your head fell against his back, your hands clutching his jacket tightly, your lips trembling while the bittersweet longing for what was to come and what might be lost hung on your tongue.

"I don’t even care what becomes of my sacrifices." He looked up, his blue eyes glinting with a beauty reminiscent of light flickering off the cleanest gem, reflectent of a galaxy. It was worthless in the end, he knew, as life continued on and people would never know how he suffered, his gift to them— the peace they’d known, all but forgotten and lost to the passage of time.

But that didn’t make it meaningless; at least you would still have the chance to live.

"Satoru..."

He smiled as your voice wrapped around his name, filled with love.

"I’ve lost it all," he said, reaching behind him for your hand. "But never you... never us. And I loved it while it lasted"

Life, he meant— the happiness he chose to hold onto instead of the pain. His only regret was that he protected you despite knowing how it would end, when he could have been selfish and embraced you, perhaps kissed you a little longer and dreamed of a future together.

"It would have been the greatest," he murmured in awe at the mere notion of it— all he was meant to share with you, his students, his friends, and Suguru. A story for the ages, a legend to be remembered through the centuries. An epic adventure where good prevailed. But this was reality, cruel, tainted, and unforgiving.

"You are the greatest," you uttered, your voice quaking as you fought to keep the sobs at bay, but they escaped you nonetheless, echoing the anguish you felt in your heart.

Suddenly, he was taken aback. *Are you Gojo Satoru because you are the strongest, or are you the strongest because you are Gojo Satoru?* A bitterness settled on his tongue, his name detached and indifferent.

Did you mean it the same?

"Why?" he asked, fidgeting as his thumb traced over your skin.

"Because you’re you," you said, a whisper of sorrow. "Because you’re my Satoru— our Satoru."

He smiled when the first tear trickled down his face, granting him the strength to let go. He watched as his blindfold— a symbol of his downfall— drifted into the sky, carried away by the wind.

He pulled you into his chest, guiding your legs to rest on either side of him as you straddled his lap.

"The greatest sorcerer to ever live, the kindest soul to ever love. The last of our hope, bearing the weight of our pain so we could dream and laugh, if only for a moment." A sob escaped you, and his hand tightened around yours, offering a fragile comfort to you both. "Satoru Gojo, who carried our burdens without complaint and stood tall amidst the horrors. For everything surrendered, he still smiled. For every friend he lost, he fought harder"

When Satoru opened his eyes, a familiar smile met him— vague and spectral yet warm and welcoming.

His name teetered on the tip of his tongue, but it fell short as a smirk flashed, one forever etched in his memory, as youthful as the days when things were, somehow, a happier. Before he could speak, the figure walked away, waving goodbye with a casual flick of the hand.

'Tell her, Satoru... before it's too late,' Suguru said, his voice drifting as he faded to dust, disappearing along with his words. And Satoru's hand on yours went limp, falling away.

"I love you" he proclaimed aloud for the first time, and possibly... the last.

No... No... No... No...

This is not how he was supposed to say it!

“There has to be another way…" your voice cracked under the strain of holding back tears. "Please... please don’t leave me"

"I’m sorry, for everything I couldn’t protect, for all the times I wasn’t there… for never giving you what you deserve”

He was the strongest, yet somehow, never strong enough. How horrible. How utterly pathetic.

You shook your head, fingers threading through his hair, “Don't ever apologize,” you choked out. “You’ve given so much. You’re… you’re everything.”

"I think I’ll take a page out of Suguru’s book," he murmured, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent one last time. "But you... run"

You punched his gut lightly, and he winced before laughter erupted from him. “Feisty little thing until the very end,” he teased, a faint smile touching his lips.

“Until the very end,” you determined.

He leaned back to cradle your face, the pads of his thumbs running over the traces where your tears had fallen. “Still— promise me you’ll do it,” he said softly, searching your eyes for a sign of agreement. “No matter what happens. Kill whoever you need to. Sacrifice whoever you must. But go. Live… dream… smile… love.”

"I’ve already done all those things… with you and for you, you idiot," you said affectionately as his hands glided over your back, his cheek resting against your head.

"Then carry on my legacy,"

"No," you denied firmly. "Never again."

No one should live or die the way he had to; it was a legacy you never wished to uphold. Yet, he was special— so special to you; your one and only, and you believed he alone reserved the right to carry that greatness, no matter how tragic it may be.

"Then mourn us," he said softly, reading between the lines as he leaned in, "Keep us alive, all of us."

His lips pressed against yours, a parting gift. But what he would never know was that you would live out your promise for a year before resigning yourself to meet your end.

Then, at last, you would be by his side, your vow fulfilled at the journey's end.

Do not copy, steal, or repost to any other platform 🥀

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