#powerless x reader

[angstywaifu]

Nightmares - Kai Azer

Request: Could you do a kai azer smut with bits of fluff due to nightmares. The nightmare can be about whatever. Could you make the smut soft like whispering I love you and soft kisses - @elliot-rain

Masterlist | Support Me

The darkness around me was suffocating, like a thick fog pressing in from all sides. I stumbled forward, my feet crunching over what felt like shattered glass. The air smelled metallic, like blood, and each breath burned my lungs.

“Hello?” I called, my voice echoing into the void. No response. Just the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Then came the whispers. Faint at first, then louder, circling me in an overlapping cacophony of hisses and disjointed words. I couldn’t make them out, but they felt wrong, like they weren’t meant for human ears.

A light flickered in the distance. I ran toward it, desperate for something tangible, something real. As I got closer, the scene materialized—a door, slightly ajar, with warm light spilling out. Relief washed over me, but it was fleeting. My feet refused to move as I approached, as though the ground itself were holding me back.

“Go back,” the whispers said now, clear and insistent. “Don’t look.”

But I couldn’t stop myself. My hand reached for the door, trembling. It creaked open with a sound that scraped against my nerves. Inside was... me. Or at least, it looked like me—sitting at a table, head down, hands clasped together as if in prayer. My doppelgänger slowly raised its head, revealing hollow, black pits where eyes should have been. Its mouth stretched into an impossible grin.

“You’ll never escape,” it whispered in my own voice, but layered with something deeper, something inhuman. Then it lunged.

I screamed as it grabbed me, its hands burning like fire against my skin. I fought, I kicked, but its grip only tightened, pulling me into the darkness that swirled behind it.

“You’re mine,” it hissed, and everything shattered.

I bolted upright in bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. My body was drenched in sweat, my chest heaving, and my throat raw from the sound. The room was too quiet, too still, the nightmare’s grip still lingering in the corners of my vision.

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. In the doorway was a frantic and worried Kai, his hair tousled from sleep, eyes wide and frantic as he scans the room, sword grasped tightly in his hand. As his eyes meet mine, he relaxes for a split second, seeing I’m physically unharmed, but they go wide again as he rushes to my side, the sword dropping to the ground, the sound breaking the silence in the room.

”I’m here. You’re safe.” He tells me as he sits in front of me, grasping my hand in his.

Despite his reassuring words and the grounding presence his touch brings, I can’t bring myself to sleep. My mind still trapped in my dream, in the void. I pull Kai towards me, clinging to him like a tether to keep myself from falling back into it. The warmth of his touch is real, solid and grounding. But it did little to shake the fear that still clawed at the edges of my mind.

”It felt so…. real.” I finally choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was gone, like she was dragging me away.”

Kai pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re not gone darling,” He murmurs into my hair before kissing the top of my head. “You’re here. I’ve got you and I’m never letting you go.”

Their words felt like a lifeline, anchoring me back to reality. For a moment, I couldn’t say anything. My breath hitched as a fresh wave of emotion hit me, and tears spilled down my cheeks. Kai noticed, brushing them away with gentle fingers.

“Hey,” they said softly, tilting my face up to meet their gaze. Their eyes were filled with so much tenderness it made my chest ache. “I love you. I don’t care how scary the dream was, or what you think you saw—none of it changes the fact that you’re safe now. You’re with me.”

Something inside me cracked, and the tension that had been holding me captive finally broke. “I love you, too,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Kai smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. “Good. Now just breathe. You’re not alone.”

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, their arms wrapped around me, their warmth chasing away the last of the nightmare’s chill. Slowly, I began to believe them. With Kai here, the void couldn’t reach me.

And for the first time that night, I closed my eyes and felt safe.

[tea-biscuits-books]

golden crown, green eyes

kitt azer x f!reader

!childhood friends to lovers • mentions of not eating • !platonic kai x reader • !comfort fluff •

summary : kitt refuses to eat until you coax him to take a bite

a/n : there’s just not enough kitt fics out there! how are we feeling about powerful coming out?

w/c : 1.6k

song : if I killed someone for you - alec benjamin

👑🌿📚💍🥄

The candlelight breathes life into the shadows, casting them long and trembling across the walls of the study. It is a quiet room, tucked away behind a heavy oak door that groans when opened, as if protesting the disturbance. Here, the world feels paused. Time slows to the rhythm of wax dripping onto polished wood and pages turning beneath tired fingertips. Books line the walls, spines cracked and titles faded, the kind of library that smells like stories buried deep in dust. In the middle of it all sits a desk, cluttered with parchment, ink pots, and a half-finished letter—its script hurried, the edge of the page smudged by a thumbprint left behind in haste or hesitation. The window behind it is curtained, sealing the room from the wind that presses softly against the glass. A fire has long since burned out in the hearth, but the lingering warmth remains in the air, mingling with the scent of wax and something older—woodsmoke, perhaps, or memory. And it is here, in this hush of golden light and whispered secrets, that he sits. Eyes gaunt, cheeks hollowed, lips pursed, heir ring glinting in the crackling firelight. He sits at the desk, hunched slightly forward, the candlelight catching in the sharp cut of his jaw and the thoughtful crease between his brows. His coat is shrugged over the back of the chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing ink stains smudged along his wrist and a faint scar that disappears beneath the cuff of his shirt. One hand cradles a pen, the other rakes slowly through his tousled blonde hair, already mussed from hours spent chasing thoughts that won’t settle. The flicker of flame paints his face in shifting golds, highlighting the intensity of his eyes—eyes that scan the page in front of him but don’t seem to be reading anymore. He’s elsewhere. Somewhere between the past and the future, between a decision and its cost. There’s a knock at the door, a slight pause before another echoes through the dark oak door. You push open the door, hearing it creak as he barely stirs, just mumbling a quick;

“come in.” you enter, studying the way his eyes sag and his quill drags across the page.

You stand in the doorway for a moment, watching him. He hasn’t noticed you yet—too deep in whatever storm is churning behind those eyes. His fingers tap absently against the edge of the desk, but the plate you left for him hours ago remains untouched, the food now cold. You clear your throat gently. He doesn’t look up.

“You’re still not eating.” Your voice is soft, not accusing—just tired. Just worried.

“Kitt.” Finally, he glances your way, his expression unreadable in the low light.

“I wasn’t hungry,” he mutters.

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

“I wasn’t hungry yesterday either.” You step into the study, the door clicking shut behind you. The candlelight flickers as if startled by the movement, shadows shifting along the spines of the books. He watches you warily as you pick up the plate and cross the room, setting it down in front of him with more care than you probably need to.

"You should at least try. For your own sake." His eyes flicker to the food, then back to you.

“You’re not my keeper.”

“No,” you say quietly,

“I’m your friend. Remember?”

Something in his face tenses at that—something flickers, fast and faint. He leans back in the chair with a tired sigh, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip like he’s trying to wipe away words he never said. You pull a second chair up beside him without asking, the way you used to. Back when things weren’t like this. Before Kai. Before Paedyn. Before Kitt started building walls so high even you couldn’t see over them.

“I miss when you actually talked to me,” you say, softer now.

“Back when we used to laugh about dumb things. When you didn’t look like you were holding the weight of the entire world in your chest.” He stares ahead, eyes tracing something invisible on the wall.

“Things were different then.” You nod.

“Yeah. They were. But I’m still here.” That gets him. You see the way his throat works as he swallows, the flicker of guilt that ghosts across his face.

“Yeah well that’s before the girl I liked stabbed my father—” he murmurs, then shakes his head like he’s trying to physically shove the words back down.

“Paedyn had to have a reason,” you say gently, even though you see his fingers curl into a fist against the woodgrain. Kitt doesn’t answer right away. He clenches his jaw, and finally you see it. Vulnerability. Raw and tired in his piercing emerald eyes. His lips remained downturned and pursed.

“It doesn’t matter,” he cuts in. “She betrayed the kingdom.” And me. The words hang in the air, unspoken but just on the tip of his tongue. The words sit heavy in the air between you. You reach for his hand without thinking, your fingers brushing his. For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink. Then slowly—like it physically hurts—he lets your fingers curl around his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I know she meant a lot to you.” He doesn’t say anything but clings to your fingers like they’re the only thing that give him sanity, stopping him from tumbling into a dark abyss of his thoughts. You squeeze his hand, just once.

“Eat, Kitt. Please. Kai would’ve wanted you to. Just let me take care of you for a little while.” He glances at you then, really looks at you. And for a moment, the ice in his gaze cracks—just enough to let a little light through.

“Okay,” he says quietly, letting the metal spoon slip past his lips, his eyes meeting yours. They lingered on you like moss clinging to stone, slipping down to your intertwined hands, warm on the desk.

“So, how’s being king been?” you whisper, attempting to make him smile. He sighs, his lips slipping into a tired twitch of the mouth.

“Tiring. My father left a lot of bullshit behind for me to clean up.” The curse slips out of his lips unflinchingly.

“And Kai’s out searching for her.” You study his face.

“You doubt his abilities?”

“Oh no, I know Kai could catch her in a heartbeat. It’s a matter of whether he brings her back.” Kitt lets a hand drag down his face, unravelling his fingers from yours. You catch it, bringing it gently down to the desk.

“You question his loyalty?”

“It is the decision between right and wrong choice! The immoral and moral, the brain and heart!” Kitts hands wring with tension, as he begins to pace.

“He must! He is your brother. When has he never fulfilled a mission?” Kitt’s voice drops, pivoting towards you slowly. His gaze found yours, all green and aching, like a forest that had forgotten how to bloom until now.

“Never.”

“He will return. Kai always comes home.”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court, let me reintroduce you to who it is that kneels before you.” Kitt’s voice echoes around the courtroom, regal and powerful.

“This is Paedyn Gray. Once a contestant in the Purging Trials where she ranked quite highly for a Mundane. And to think a Psychic became such a threat to Offensive Elites.” You hear scoffs echo throughout the room, and you feel yourself subconsciously leaning closer. The words begin to blur as you feel Kai stiffen against you, his eyes boring into the former Silver Saviour who stood kneeling before the king.

“But I assure you, that my future decisions are anything but crazed. And I will explain them all to you in due time.” Your eyes close, not bearing to look. You know what will happen. He will sentence her to exile, death or perhaps worse.

“Paedyn Gray...Stand.” You feel a gasp clog your throat, your eyes snapping open. What was he doing-what was- And then it hits you as he pulls a box from his pocket, red and velvet in colour. The lid lifts and in it reveals a sparkling diamond ring, he holds it out to her.

“You are to be my bride.” The courtroom becomes chaos. Outcries and Kai steps the tiniest bit closer to you, reaching for your hand to stabilise himself. You don’t notice, your eyes fixated on him, engaged to someone who is not you, standing beside the bride to be who is not you. It is Paedyn Gray – Illya’s most wanted criminal and most recognised face of the century. You find his eyes, through the waves of chaos and his vision drops to yours and Kai’s intertwined hands, like yours and his all those weeks ago. They flash with something you couldn’t name—something too jagged to be jealousy, too hollow to be hope. You lean into the comfort of Kai, your vision blurred through all the tears that fill your eyes.

“Wanna get out of here and get drunk?” You feel Kai’s hot breath linger on your ear as he leans in, black curls brushing your cheek. With a barely visible bob of your head, You both begin to make your escape, weaving through the crowd and into the palace hall where servants scurry around. As you turn, you dare to turn your head to see his gaze one last time. They met yours, cool and indifferent, the color of wet leaves on a forgotten path. And then the dark oak door slams onto your face and you’re running into the cellar to find some sort of liquor that will numb the pain. At least for now.

[xoxochb]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ big shoutout to my favorite book boyfriends!

[channieschocco]

Since when did you become so romantic? ~ Chan

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: A bookstore date with Chan!

Warnings: Kissing

A little writer's note: I took a poll on which skz member you wanted my next oneshot to be for, and you voted Chan! This was so fun to write! I think it is so cute and it fits Channie perfectly. Enjoy the Powerless and Shatter Me referances, fellow readers<3

-

A quiet knock on your door made you quickly place the rest of your things—phone, wallet, hairbrush—into your purse and shove your shoes onto your feet. You hastily opened the door to reveal Chan, looking as handsome as ever with a bouquet of tulips and baby’s breath wrapped in a light pink sheet of tissue paper. 

Tonight was your very first date with him.

You wore a simple black pleated skirt over black tights, a cream colored sweater and a black bow in your hair. The shoes you had just hastily placed on your feet were small black boots over white socks. You felt every bit the Pinterest girl and this date was sure to be worthy of the app. 

“Hi.” Chan shyly held out the flowers for you and you gently lifted them into your arms, smiling from ear to ear. “I didn’t know what your favorite flowers were, so I just ended up picking the prettiest ones. I hope you like them.” He nervously ruffled a hand through his hair, making your heart melt. 

“Chan, I’d love anything you got me. Thank you, truly!” You replied with a laugh and took his hand in yours. “We might as well get going.” Chris’s cheeks were now dusted with pink and his hand was delicate when intertwined with yours. The two of you got in his car and drove away from your place, the both of you eager to begin the activities that you had planned for tonight. 

You had been talking with Chan for about a month, and he had decided last week that it was about time for your first date. After finding out that you were a huge reader, Chan immediately offered to take you to the bookstore and a cafe down the road for your first date. You had been counting down the days, the hours, the minutes until you got to spend time with someone you cared for in a place you loved.

“We’re here!” Chan exclaimed happily as you pulled into the bookstore’s parking lot. He exited the car, but not before telling you to wait inside. He jogged over to your side and opened your door for you, letting you out in the most gentlemanly way possible. You took his hand and led him to the store, the reader inside you wanting to skip excitedly. Chan pulled open the door of the bookstore for you and let you walk through first.

All of the books had clearly been recently restocked and the whole store seemed to be empty for the two of you. It was quiet, save for the lofi beats that almost inaudibly played over the store’s speakers. You always went shopping for books in the evening or at night since the store was always so quiet, yet this time it felt even more magical since someone you truly cared about was there with you.

You led Chan over to the romance section (your favorite) and pointed out some of your favorite books that you’ve read now that you could finally show off your obsession. Chan picked up a copy of Shatter Me off the shelf,  flipped open to a random page and began to read. His curls fell  messily on his brow and he bit his lip in concentration while reading.

Chan flipped to the next page and gasped, scandalized, hand on his chest dramatically. “You didn’t tell me Aaron Warner was blonde!” 

You fought to keep from bursting out laughing in the middle of the quiet bookstore and clamped a hand over your mouth. “What color did you think his hair was?” you asked.

“Would you be mad if I said brown?” Chan winced and shut his eyes. 

“Maybe just a little,” you replied. “I think the entire reading community might come after you, though.”

“Readers are ferocious.” Chan sighed, exasperated and put Shatter Me back on the shelf. 

He’s not wrong, you thought to yourself. You browsed the shelves for a book to examine and you found one you had never seen before. The hardcover was a limited edition and it had red details brushed into the spine. You began to read while leaning on the shelf behind you. You can always rely on a reader to use a bookstore as if it were a free public library!

You tore your eyes off of the book when you felt like you were being watched. Chan stood a few feet away, staring at you as you read. “Can I help you?” you asked, smirking at him. A flush crept up his neck and bloomed across his cheeks. 

“Sorry, you’re just so breathtaking when you read.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Since when did you become so romantic?” you teased him.

“It’s gotta be all of these romance books. It seems they’re getting to me!” Chan laughed nervously. 

“How about we find you a book then we get going,” you suggested, taking his hand and pulling him towards some other shelves. You channeled your inner reader and selected a book for Chan. Powerless. “Here, try this one.”

He flipped open to the middle of the book and you watched as his eyes widened. “This Kai Azer character has supreme eloquence. I could learn a thing or two from this guy!” Chan leaned against the shelf and looked up at you, book in hand. “I may be a monster, but if you cut me, I’ll bleed. And if you break my heart, Y/N, you’ll break me. So, if even a sliver of your soul longs for mine, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve it.”

You had a feeling that he had chosen that quote for a reason. “Chan, you hold my soul in the palm of your hand,” you grin. “And you do deserve it. Every sliver of it.”

“And you, mine.” Chan replied, a sad smile upon his face. 

The two of you made your way over to the checkout and bought the two books you had selected. You couldn’t wait to rant to Chan about Powerless before Fearless released. You needed to talk to someone about the book!

Nobody spoke as you walked down the street to the cafe. The place was set to close in about twenty minutes, so the two of you hurried inside. You picked a table in the middle of the room and waited for someone to come over and take your order. 

The cafe had hardwood floors which made little creaking noises as you walked and couches in each corner of the room. The tables were made of wood as well, but the chairs you and Chan sat in were made from metal. There was a large assortment of teas and coffees and treats behind the counter and just like the bookstore, aesthetic beats sounded over the speaker. There were two other people in the cafe studying on laptops and moving back and forth between papers and books. 

“You know, sometimes I come here to work on my music,” Chan muttered. “It’s such a cool ambiance to work in.”

The whole cafe smelled like sweets and coffee which made you want to order something asap. The waiter came over to your table and introduced themself. Chan ordered a caramel macchiato and you ordered a french hot chocolate, since you wanted to be able to sleep tonight. (Unlike some people, *cough cough, Chan*) The two of you also asked for a plate of caramel cookies to go with everything.

The cookies and hot chocolate were both heavenly on your tongue. The sweet and salty flavours melted together, creating a power combination. 

The cafe was about to close, so you shoved one last cookie in your mouth and paid at the counter with Chan. The two of you exited the small place and began to walk back to the parking lot to drive home. A soft snow began to fall, making the pavement on the sidewalk turn a sheer white. Chan placed his jacket on your shoulders and you hugged it close. 

You stopped in your tracks and tried to catch a snowflake on your tongue. The other little flakes caught in your hair, making you giggle.

“You’re cute,” Chan said.

“I know,” you replied, tongue sticking out. You caught a flake after another moment and lowered your head, shutting your mouth. Chan pulled your body towards him by your arm and took your face in his fingers. 

“And very beautiful.” He placed a hand on your back, pulling you even closer. “And I really want to kiss you.”

Your breath hitched. Instead of replying, you pulled him close, your lips meeting his in a slow, passionate kiss. The snow fell slowly around the two of you and there were no other people or cars on the street since it was so late. You could feel the love he wanted to express with words but couldn’t. You felt only him. 

Chris drove you home and walked you up to your apartment, wanting to make sure you were safe and gave you one last lingering kiss. “Thank you for tonight.” 

“Thank you for tonight, Chan,” you replied. “Text me once you get home so I know you’re safe.”

He slipped out the door and you rushed to your bedroom to change. You put on your favorite warm pajamas and washed your face and brushed your teeth in the washroom.You decided that you deserved a face mask and peeled open the plastic bag before gently laying one of the sheet masks on your face. You snuggled into your bed with the book you had bought a few hours earlier and began to read before receiving a text from Chris. 

And you peacefully fell asleep right there, with your sheet mask on and dreamt of the wonderful night you just experienced.

[rahuratna]

Part 2

Synopsis: Hunting never quite prepared you for this; for falling in love. You're uncertain about the true nature of your relationship with Olivia, now that you've both expressed your passion in the most primal, fundamental way possible. She takes steps to rectify that.

[MH Wilds Olivia x Fem Hunter/Reader]

Content: Romance, angst, humour, falling in love, W/W, courtship, lovers' spat, smut (in previous and next chapter).

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

(Kudos to @that-basic-simp who's headcanon that Olivia was a wildcard in her youth has now become canon in my mind. It just makes sense!)

A hunter is accustomed to living rough, to take pleasure in the few luxuries they are afforded once their reputation has been established.

You've had your fair share of days under unforgiving sun, skin sand-blasted as you forged through parched desert landscapes, or tugged your boots from the powerful suction of a mire with each draining step.

Yes, you'd known hardship and toil, the way most hunters had.

So why was this so difficult to navigate?

Perched on your seikret as you patrolled the Scarlet Forest for tempered monsters, you were aware of her eyes scanning the trees around you, as well as the exact moments that they landed on you, tracing over your form in the saddle.

She didn't mean anything by it.

Olivia was merely performing her due diligence; remaining vigilant, taking stock of your current environs, maintaining a steady watch for her companions, including you.

You envied her, somewhat.

You weren't able to clear your mind so capably of your intimate encounter with her after the battle against the Ajarakan at Azuz City.

You were the one who found yourself watching after her while you were all at camp, watching the way she polished her weapon and shuddering as you remembered the way she'd handled you.

You were the one who caught a glimpse of her training, the bare lines of her powerful shoulders visible as she swung her hammer with practiced ease. And you couldn't help but remember how those same shoulders had felt beneath the grip of your nails, the way they'd rippled sinuously as she'd pressed you further down under the weight of her body.

You wondered what she made of all of this. You wondered why she could remain so calm, as if the current status quo was the most natural order she'd ever witnessed in nature.

Luxuries. Those that were ill-afforded to a hunter.

That's what you and Olivia had, wasn't it? A luxury of time, stolen sweetness and passion, a fleeting moment between two people who were drawn together by circumstance, nothing more.

Even as you had the thought, you recognised it for the lie it was.

Maybe it had been a culmination of physical passion on her part, but to you ...

No. It wouldn't do to dwell on that. Or the voice that whispered to you, oh so treacherously, that Olivia's steadfast and honorable personality wouldn't allow her to make such a decision without some kind of true feeling. That was not her nature, and you knew it.

On the one hand, you were crippled by the doubt of not knowing, and on the other, held back by your fear of seeming inexperienced, naive or just plain silly to be dwelling on such matters. Surely a hunter had more important things to focus on than matters of the heart (or loins)?

And yet, you sometimes found yourself questioning the unfairness of it all.

Having lived the life you had, how were you supposed to know what was right? How were you supposed to know how to navigate this new and infinitely more dangerous territory?

You could settle for the simple explanation for now; the fact that Olivia was content with things  between you as they were, and would perhaps join you in your tent again, in some uncertain time in the future, that she would confine her heated words of tenderness (that you absolutely weren't pining for) to those secret hours before the dawn.

Yes, you supposed you could accept that as her current intention towards you.

If only you knew how very wrong you were.

The first hint you received that all was not playing out as you imagined was the co-ordinated patrols.

The recent upsurge of tempered and frenzied monsters across all habitats meant that the units on the ground were often stretched out, required to travel between different locales every few days in order to see to new issues that cropped up here and there.

You'd teamed up with a variety of other hunters by now, including the laid back but capable Rosso and the earnest Alessa. In recent times, though, it seemed that Olivia was almost always the squad leader assigned to your area.

If it happened a couple of times in a row, you wouldn't have given it another thought. Seven times, though? That was certainly pushing the boundaries of the probable when it came to coincidence.

After the ninth occasion when your SOS flare had seemingly summoned Olivia out of the aether, you decided to question her on it, as delicately as you could.

On the ride back to camp, you fell behind, allowing Alma and your trusty palico to take the lead. Scarlet water splashed against the soles of your boots as your rode beside Olivia in silence for a while, knees brushing companiably against hers. She seemed content to simply be at your side, but this was the best time to ask the question.

"Olivia, are you ... keeping track of my missions?"

She turned to you, the red-tinted water reflecting in faint bars across her cheeks.

"What makes you say that?"

You waved a hand between her and you.

"This is the ninth time you've answered my call. Normally, the others happen to be in the area too and - "

She raised an eyebrow.

"You'd like them to answer your call instead?"

"No! That isn't what I meant."

She regarded your flustered face with her trademark equanimity for a moment before her mouth twitched slightly and she looked away. Your eyes narrowed.

"Olivia."

"What?"

"The truth, please."

She sighed.

"If you must know, then yes. I have been keeping track of your missions, but not because I don't think you're capable."

You watched her, waiting for an explanation. The words that emerged from her next were a little stilted, as if she hadn't fully made sense of them herself.

"I always look out for my unit. Erik, Werner, and Athos, of course. You know that right?"

You nodded, a faint crease appearing between your brows. Olivia did make sure they were taken care of, going so far as to remind Werner when to eat when he was too caught up in his latest project.

"Well, the same applies to you. It may not be official orders, but I consider you to be one of our unit. And all that comes with it."

Her eyes met yours and you felt that small jolt of anticipation, that thread of golden, electric awareness that wove through your whole body every time she fixed her full attention on you like this.

"So, I'm family, then?" you asked, half teasing.

She stared back, perfectly serious.

"Yes. That's what I meant. It's not just about protection. I know you can hold your own, whoever answers the signal. I just want to be the one who responds because that's what I feel is best. That I'm the one fighting beside you."

You were silent for a minute, absorbing this. Olivia's posture had become rather stiff, and her glance raked along your face from the side, as if assessing your response to this.

You couldn't have that.

Alma had disappeared around the bend up ahead.

Leaning sideways in the saddle, you craned your neck and aimed a kiss at her cheek. Your mouth found hers instead, jostling you slightly back as she guided her seikret closer to yours.

Warm, slightly chapped, her lips were gentle, then firm, intoxicating as she always was. She released you, exhaling against your cheeks and you let out a small sound in response, tilting your head as she captured you again.

There was a shift in the light ahead, against your closed eyelids, and you drew away from her, an ache erupting in your chest that you knew no remedy for.

The brief moment of sunset-hued longing in her own gaze, the soft allure of her deepest buried self, caught and held you.

On the way back, you couldn't help the sporadic smile that would break out across your face.

Olivia could keep her composure. You were starting to decipher what lay beneath.

A ball of flame rockets over the top of the rock you're crouched behind, exploding against the cliffface. The enraged Tempered Guardian Rathalos was a foe to be reckoned with indeed, in turns burning the ground and leaving explosions of Wylk-powered energy in its wake.

Dashing out from behind cover, you witness a sight that temporarily stops your heart. Olivia, astride her seikret, charging head on at the raging creature. You could tell from the way she was standing slightly in the saddle, the line of her back and legs taut as a coiled spring, that she was attempting to mount it.

You shout to her, but your warning call is lost amidst the charging of the Rathalos' coming attack.

Whistling for your own seikret, you barely register the lurch of your body through the air as it swings you onto its back. Your eyes are completely focused on her and her damnable daredevil charge, hair flying behind her like a battle pennant as she speeds up.

Some part of your mind is telling you that this isn't out of the ordinary for her. That Olivia is constantly pushing the furthest boundaries of her abilities, always trying new attack combinations and strategies that risked life and limb, all in the name of being the best hunter she can be.

Didn't you do the same?

That didn't make it any less harrowing to watch the woman you -

No.

Focus on the beast. Focus on the swell of its fiery breath. Clear your mind, as she must be doing right now. Match the stride of your seikret with hers. Reign it slightly to the left, just as the blast exits the gaping jaws and then -

Olivia leaps, straight for the Rathalos' back. She isn't going to -

Then the reptilian gaze lands on you, and you fire off a round of Wyrmsbane from your slinger, right between the eyes. It flinches back, roaring with rage, and in this moment, Olivia lands successfully.

Her feet plant on the spiny plates of its back, hunting knife driving into the softer parts between as she lets out an answering yell. The beast attempts to buck her off, but you turn your mount sharply, firing off another round at its chest.

Olivia skirts forward to the head, shrugging off the flame that spills from the creature's mouth, and draws her hammer, landing a powerful concussive blow on the plate above the brow.

Staggering, the great, scarred body topples over, crashing onto its side. In an instant, you dismount, drawing your weapon. Olivia slides across the head, readying her own blow.

At her side, you watch the way she pivots on her heel, the powerful curve of her waist, the arc of the hammer as it comes down once, twice, three times, each strike timed with precision as you both land your attacks in tandem.

The Rathalos lies defeated, one wing extended out at your feet.

Olivia turns to you, and you see something wild, something ecstatic in her expression. Her breathing is heavy, the ends of her hair are scorched and the sleeve of the tunic she wears beneath her armour is torn, the flesh reddened with scratches.

She isn't her usual composed self as she strides across the ground towards you. You've barely sheathed your weapon before her hand grasps your hip like a steel vice and she tugs you against her, lips smashing against yours, artless, no aim other than to be closer to you.

Vaguely, you are aware of your palico asking if this is a human mating ritual.

You gasp into her mouth, your fingers scraping across her epaulettes, before you remember that stunt she pulled. You ball up a fist and bring it down with a light thump in the middle of her chest.

She separates from you, panting slightly, but doesn't release you from her grasp.

"What?"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That jump! That was just plain reckless."

She suddenly registers that you are angry with her and her eyebrow cocks in a way that infuriates you even further. Still, she doesn't release you.

"What about it? I've been practicing that for a week now. Athos knows."

"And you decided to test it out on a Tempered Guardian Rathalos?"

You punctuated each word with a stabbing finger to the middle of her chest. It does nothing but strengthen her hold on you, your body pressed flush against hers. You see an answering fire in her glance.

"The more dangerous the better. At least I know it works when it counts."

"Did you hit yourself with your hammer during training?"

"Are you insulting the Captain of another unit?"

"Oh, you're pulling rank now, huh?"

"Well, it seems like you're forcing me to."

Your palico was now asking if fighting was also part of a mating ritual, at which Athos promptly places her paw over his snout.

You take a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself, which wasn't easy with her current proximity.

"Olivia, it was ... impressive, I admit, but - "

"So you can admit that much?"

"That doesn't mean it wasn't ill-considered!"

"You know what else is ill-considered?"

"What?"

She leans forward and captures your lips in a searing kiss again, and your resistance is sapping away by the minute. You arch under her touch, your fingers sliding up her waist.

There's something different here, something she wants you to experience first hand. She'd told you stories before, about her youth, and the way she'd taken on the most dangerous missions to prove herself.

Time and responsibility had tempered those desires, but it seemed that they sometimes simmered just under the surface, and you couldn't deny having seen it in her before.

Olivia had been a firebrand, true to form, and as she consumes you, tilting her head, pushing you back, tasting you thoroughly, a realisation strikes you.

She wanted you to see her, all of her, even the parts she kept concealed so well, the parts that nobody but you (and Athos) would witness in her now.

When her arms finally drop from around you, you place your forehead against hers, breathing her in. You offer her a half smile, nose brushing against hers.

Olivia glances sideways and Athos places her paws on her hips.

"No use asking for my approval, Livvie. Seems like mew've decided."

Your palico gawped in outrage.

"Approval? My meowster is the best of the best!"

"Eh? Anyone who gets Livvie as a pawtner is the luckiest."

"Mew want a catfight on your hands?"

"Nyah, I'd win."

Olivia clapped her hands together.

"All right, you two go on ahead and tell Alma that we're done here. We'll just carve and get cleaned up after."

Your palico shot you a look that was a little too knowing.

"Meowster, send up an SOS flare if it gets too much."

Your mouth fell open, aghast.

"You've got the wrong idea - "

Athos waved at you both.

"Happy carving."

When they are both out of sight you turn, heading straight for the Rathalos, pulling your knife from its sheathe. Olivia is close behind you, but she refrains from touching you, to your relief. You're not sure you can resist her.

After a moment of silent carving, your hands now slick with the wylk-infused secretions that pass for blood, she asks you a question.

"Are you still angry?"

"I'm not angry. I'm just ... seeing you ride right at that thing, getting ready to jump - "

"Not the first time I've done it."

She was reading your mind again. And she was right. This was the crux of the issue.

It shouldn't bother you. It really shouldn't. You remembered the feeling of deep admiration you'd had when she'd charged right at the Arkveld without even knowing the first thing about the monster.

So why would it be any different now? The world didn't change because of your feelings for her. If anything, it was you that had to adapt to  the new order, to the fact that hunting would never stop being dangerous for either of you.

You paused in your repetitive action, still unable to face her.

"This isn't something that's on you. You have nothing to apologise for. It's me. I'm the one that needs to come to terms with ... some things."

So saying, you complete your task, heading to the nearby river to wash. She remains silent, but you feel her eyes watching your every move, the way she holds back the things she would say to you.

The wyverian ruins wash you both in their cold light.

Later, at camp, you try to distract yourself with boardgames with Alma. She's always been better at them than you, but you take comfort in the familiarity of defeat and her idle, warm chatter.

You can put aside thinking about more serious issues when the warmth of the brazier steals into your limb and leaves you languid, pleasantly fatigued after your bath.

Your palico is lounging at your side, head pushed into your ribs as you rub at his ears. It's as if they can all sense your inner turmoil, and are doing all they can to take your mind from it.

Someone approaches, stands just outside the ring of firelight. Alma glances up, and from the way her posture immediately straightens, you know it's Olivia.

"Ah, Olivia - "

Your palico surges to his feet, tugging on Alma's hand.

"Let's go see Gemma. I think she's made me the most purrfect breastplate."

"Oh ... of course!"

Straightening her glasses, Alma shoots you a confirmatory look and you nod, smiling slightly. Always the protective one, is Alma. She never fails to make you feel like you're in good hands.

Olivia finally steps into the warm ring of light, raising her hands to the blaze. She warms them in silence for a minute, and you wonder what she could possibly be here to say to you.

The heaviness of the day's events suddenly burdens you like a lead weight, and you feel it in the way your shoulders slump slightly.

Olivia settles onto the bench beside you, her shoulder pressing into yours.

"Forgive me for sounding forward, but shouldn't you be more pleased to see your lover?"

It's the first time she's referred to herself as such aloud, and you can't help the way your lips curve in response.

"Should I be?"

She exhales sharply and then her fingers are under your chin, turning your head gently to face her. There it is, that infinite tenderness and desire she bears only for you, the set of her mouth that makes it seem like she's almost in pain.

Her voice is low, charged with feeling, and it makes you shudder slightly.

"Please, look at me. I don't want ... this. Whatever this is. I don't want it between us."

You shake your head, patiently explaining to her yet again.

"Olivia, I said earlier that you have nothing to - "

"I do." Her grasp on your chin tightens ever so slightly. "I do have to apologise. For making you think you have to deal with this alone. I just ... I'm afraid I'm not very good at these things."

"But there's nothing you - "

"Yes, there is. I can comfort you. I can hold you. I can listen to your concerns and not behave like an idiotic youth who's just received their hunting license. I can be here when you need me the most. I can make compromises too, because if that isn't what all these years leading my own unit has taught me, then I'm a failure indeed."

Her harsh assessment of her own actions makes you reach up, wrapping your hand around her own. You bring it to your lips, speaking against her skin.

"We're both learning, Olivia. And we've got to adapt. But I suppose a little help from my own partner at times would definitely be something. And maybe ... practice those stunts a little more before trying them out in the field, yes?"

"Only if you're the one practicing with me."

"Suppose I'll have to stock up on healing potions, then."

"Am I that dangerous?"

Your laughter this time was genuine, and some of the tension she bore in her frame dissipated.

"You're the most dangerous woman I know."

Even now that you knew she was dealing with these feelings in her own way, the natural course of her actions always surprised you a little.

Your next hint that she was far more serious about your relationship than you had initially expected were the numerous small gifts that inevitably headed your way.

As Captain of her unit, and veteran hunter, Olivia had made numerous connections over her career than enabled trade deals. Shipments of goods under careful supervision would make their way to various base camps, courtesy of the deals she brokered, each containing valuable supplies and equipment for the hunters.

Sometimes, there was something rather specific for you among these shipments. And it was obvious, to anyone who cared to scrutinize, that as practical as all of these gifts were, they were tailor-made to suit you.

There was the new sheathe for your hunting knife, made of a beautiful dark leather that you'd once expressed appreciation for. There was a talisman of protection, woven together with feathers from a bird you'd once mentioned that was native to your home region and village.

There was a delivery of your favourite honey sweets to the Avis Tent (by the time you'd arrived, your palico had looked at you with a guilty expression and stuffed cheeks, Alma hiding a wrapper discreetly in her pocket, while Nata looked on at their antics and giggled).

There was one particular morning when you'd emerged from your tent at the Ruins of Wyveria, a short while after the Rathalos debacle, and a glorious, fresh and familiar scent had assailed your senses. Glancing around in confusion, you'd spotted a nosegay of flowers from the Plains tied across the entrance of your tent.

Your eyes widened as you took in the vivid purple hue of the flowers, remembering one particular evening when ...

A step sounded outside the sheltering canvas, and Olivia appeared around the corner, eyes flicking between you and the hanging flowers.

It was still very early, and only a few people were stirring around camp. She was out of her armour for a change, in a soft, fleece coat, belted at the waist against the cold of the ruins.

You gestured to the flowers.

"Is this ... "

The corner of her mouth quirked upward.

"Yes. Figured you could use some fresh scent after fighting that tempered Congalala yesterday."

You wrinkled your nose.

"Well, you chose right. I love the scent of these."

She was close now, her eyes drinking you in, in that manner that made your knees feel like they'd been stung by a paralytic wasp.

"I know. Do you remember that day?"

"I do."

Your voice had sunk lower, a barely audible whisper as you recalled that evening, when you'd captured a Quematrice on the Plains for Erik's study. Olivia had accompanied you, as she'd felt it her duty to oversee the mission that would benefit her unit.

You hadn't been particularly close to her, back then. She'd always drawn your attention, but she was still a colleague, a rather intimidating one too. Olivia's competence and command was unquestionable, and although she was cordial and always polite, there was an air about her that didn't exactly invite friendship.

That evening on the Plains had changed your perspective of her, for good.

The Quematrice has burned a swathe through some dry grass, and for fear of the blaze  catching over the wider area, you and your trusty palico had commissioned some wingdrakes to carry large buckets of water to pour over the area from above.

By the time the exercise was over, you'd been sore of body, exhausted, covered in soot, breath raspy from inhaled smoke. Olivia rode beside you back to camp, amusement colouring her expression as you'd slumped over in the saddle and grimaced at the smell of burnt vegetation that had seemed to ingrain itself in your nostrils.

She'd spied something off the trail and made a sudden detour, returning with a small cluster of purple flowers in her hand, picking away their stems and tying them around the bunch to hold them together. She'd taken off her gauntlets to work with the delicate blooms.

"Here, these should help with the smell."

Taken aback by her act of kindness, you'd accepted the flowers and held them up to your nose, inhaling deeply and sighing. The scent was fresh, a little less sweet than you'd expected, carrying almost citrusy undertones that banished the smell of burning.

"Well now. I think this might just be my new favourite blossom."

She'd nodded, offering a small smile.

"They're similar to the Styraca flowers back in Dundorma. During festival time, they'd deck the houses with them to clear out the vapours of the last season."

Clearing her throat, she'd looked off into the distance, pausing before reciting to you.

"The crown of warmer tides awaits, their jewels scattered among the fields. Weave them into your hair, my queen, and your heart shall surely yield."

You'd almost dropped the flowers in surprise, leaning towards her, intrigued.

"I didn't put you down for a poet, Olivia!"

She'd snorted and glanced away, and you realised that she was actually slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm no poet. Just have an appreciation for other's verse, I suppose. That's one that's pretty popular around festival time."

While her attention was turned away from you, you hurriedly fixed the flowers beneath your helmet so that they looked like they were sprouting over your ear. You spread your arms regally as she turned back, noting the slight widening of her eyes.

"How's this for a crown?"

" ... um. Suits you."

"Think I'll win anyone's heart this way?"

"Maybe the Quematrice."

"Olivia! What kind of person do you take me for?"

Your combined laughter echoed across the Plains, and it marked the first time in your association with her that you could relax and enjoy each other's company without the constraints of duty and mission parameters.

You remembered it now, standing before your tent in the chill morning with her, as a defining moment. That had been when you'd seen past Olivia the Ace Hunter, past the trappings of her professionalism to the sensitive heart beneath, the woman who loved to read poetry in a sunny field, the sweat of training still on her skin, the wind tousling the wheat-hued strands of her hair.

Reaching up, you plucked a bloom from the small bunch, tucking it lightly behind her ear. In the softer light of the lantern, with the pale fleece of her coat wrapping her snugly and her eyes gleaming with sage-green fire, you'd never seen a more beautiful sight. 

Tilting your head, you traced the line of her chin, watching as she leaned unconsciously into your touch.

"What do you think now?" Your tone was soft, teasing. "Has your heart yielded yet?"

Her hand came up, circling your wrist, the callouses on her palms catching slightly on your skin. When she'd held you, back then in the tent after the Ajarakan fight, when she'd caressed you and bit and licked and gripped, she'd never shown any sign of hesitation, as if claiming what was rightfully hers.

So why was it this simple touch, this grip on your arm, that felt so shaky, so uncertain, like a child that grasps on too tight when you're in a crowded space, as if you'd leave them behind to face the unknown world alone?

She turned your hand over, placing her lips softly against the skin on the underside of your wrist, then again, on the centre of your palm. Something about the gesture blew the air right out of your lungs, as if she'd knelt before you and presented you her throat.

She never did answer your question.

She didn't need to.

Taglist: @rubberroomwithrats @ohgoodnesswhatdo @comradesepsis @pinkiedash101 @zephyrwolf5

@mystique-agent @moonskins @damnesis

@zellkabellk @queen-titania @moonmoonmon

@len1028 @jo-crow @ammirabilis

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: moonlight dance

paring: kai azer x reader

synopsis: you’re a contestant in the purging trials, who has lived in the slums your whole life. at a ball, you need a breather, but an uninvited guest appears and alters any previous plans of serenity

warnings:

a/n: thanks for reading 🤍🤍

tag list: @heartwithsimplenotes @lxvebelle @whatsamongus @zaraaaabear @tornqdowarnings @emelia07

You stand outside still in your ballgown. The cool air that laps your face feels nice, fresh in your lungs. You breathe rhythmically, melodically. You’d never cared much for dances and certainly not ones held for these stupid trials, so this escape was perfect. It’s not like anyone would miss your presence anyway. The moon shines down into the gardens and reflects a silvery shadow on the surface of the pond. Beautiful.

“Dance with me?”

You spin around after hearing the familiar voice. Azer. Of course he’d be the only person to follow you out of a ball you were desperately trying to escape, pulling attention to the whole matter.

“I don’t dance,” you reply curtly, turning back to the moonlit pond.

“It wasn’t a request, love,” he murmurs, coming up dangerously close behind you, “we’re dancing.”

Classic, cocky, self-entitled prince. He thinks he can command anyone to do anything. But he picked the wrong girl to try and domineer. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, making you shiver slightly. He’s trying to be intimidating.

You angle your face towards him slightly and shoot him a sickly sweet smile, “try and make me, sweetheart.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, your choice,” he shrugs, making it appear like you had a choice in this matter.

“I don’t dance,” you repeat bluntly, wondering why he was struggling so greatly to understand three simple words.

“I don’t believe you,” he replies, taking you by the waist. His hands cup it perfectly as he guides you away from the ponds edge. He takes of your hands and interlocks his fingers with yours, as the two of your begin to move.

“What are you doing?” you ask, not pulling away just yet, something about this position wouldn’t let you.

“Dancing,” he responds simply, spinning you around.

“I told you I don’t-“

“You don’t dance,” he finishes with a roll of the eyes, “yes, I recall you mentioning a few times. But what are you doing now?”

Much to your annoyance, he was right. The two of you are dancing to the dying hum of music coming all of the way from the ball you were trying to escape. But for some reason you don’t mind this. You don’t mind his hands on your body or the closeness of your faces. In this moment it didn’t matter who you were and what you thought. You are just two strangers dancing under the moon.

“Why did you run away from the ball? Trying to pull a Cinderella stunt?” he asks quietly.

“Why did you follow me? Trying to be my Prince Charming?” you reply, a challenging eyebrow raised.

He acknowledges it and grins, “touché.”

You fall back into a comfortable silence, finding solace in the methodical movement of a routine. 1 2 3 4…. 1 2 3 4…. 1 2 3 4 …. you don’t think, you just move. And for once, it’s blissful not to have so much on your mind.

“Suspicious you were so insistent on dancing with me,” you say, as he twirls you around again, “one might assume you were desperate.”

“Desperate to see you make a fool of yourself,” he quips back grinning, “you really are quite horrible at this.”

“Apologies,” you reply, sarcasm dripping from your tone, “are my steps not up to your standard, your majesty?”

He scrunches his nose at the title, you like making him feel like this. Inferior. A feeling he’s probably not used to, that you know like the palm of your hand.

“Suspicious you agreed to dance, it didn’t take much persuasion and you haven’t stopped,” he points out, “one might assume you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

He mirrors the way you worded your sentence to get under your skin and annoyingly it’s working. You don’t think you’ve ever hated a man more in your entire life and that’s when you feel the blade that is stuck to your upper thigh.

“I want to take the knife strapped to my thigh and ram it into your chest,” I smile sweetly, “that’s how much I’m enjoying myself.”

“A knife? Are you flirting with me?” he smirks, grey eyes lighting up with this new found amusement or was it hope?

“In your dreams sweetheart,” you laugh, the nickname popping back up in a petty attempt to get under his skin.

He smiles and his whole face lights up. You hate yourself for thinking it but the truth is, he has a beautiful smile. Alluring and mesmerising.

He utters three small words, the smile never leaving his lips, “I hate you.”

You open your mouth to reply but don’t get a word out because Kai takes your chin tentatively and tilts your head upwards, smoothly planting a kiss on your lips.

At first you’re frozen in the pure shock of the act but you don’t break away. You don’t want to break away. It feels so nice to be wanted, to be spoiled. And then suddenly you’re kissing back and you don’t know why. Your hands are buried deep in his hair and you’re pushing your upper body against his. He kisses back even harder, the roughness throwing you off guard but you feel you like it. That you want more of it. You encourage his lips further.

That is until your brain kicks in and you realise the nature of the situation. You quickly tear yourself away, ashamed you’d let it go this far, angry at him for paralysing your brain with his mouth. You’re breathing heavily and you’re confused. Your head and your heart are torn in two completely different places. You look up and lock eyes with him, falling into endless puddles of grey. You try and form a sentence but you’ve forgotten how.

“Goodnight darling,” the prince winks, before spinning on his heel and walking off into the moonlight, leaving you stood there frozen and speechless.

What just happened?

a/n: thanks for the request anon!! sorry it took me a little while… hope you enjoyed this 🤍🤍

powerless masterlist

[whousestypewriters]

friends till the end right? - k.a x reader

pairing: kai azer x reader

requested: yes / no

warnings: swearing

a/n: im living off of these crumbs until i get my hands on reckless fr. this'll be he last fic queued/posted until i get back lovelies. hope you enjoy mwah <33

taglist: @nqds, @lxvebelle, @reminiscentreader, @off-to-the-r4ces, @ecliphttlunar

@tornqdowarnings

kai azer was your friend.

your bestfriend.

you grew up together, he, just one week older than you basically being your guide into life. you both know he's full of shit and that he just likes to brag that he's older.

you've been by his side for all of it. the awful way edric treated him - which you still want to shove a dagger up edric's ass for by the way - to sneaking into the kitchen and eating lemon tarts with him.

you're his other half and he's yours.

he was by your side when your parents died, never once leaving you during those awful days. he pulled you out of your slump and brought you back to life.

so yeah....

you were close.

and although you were possibly the closets friends in ilya. you wanted more. you wanted to be the girl he looked at in every room the girl who he would recognise anywhere. you wanted to be his girl.

but that wasn't happening anytime soon. it was mere delusional thinking.

"hey, darling," kai's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. "you just gonna lie there all day?"

sighing you open your eyes and look up to kai. "it is rather comfy," you grumble at him. shutting your eyes and the image of kai and the colorful morning sky out.

"well its not my fault you tripped mid-spar."

"EXCUSE ME?" you practically fly up off the ground in anger. "I DID NOT TRIP YOU LITTLE SHIT-" you yell before kai cuts you off with a hand to your mouth.

"hush, you don't want to wake the entire kingdom with your loud ass mouth, you'd think you were a damn amplifier not tele."

you scoff and shove him back, causing him to stumble a little. "i'm going to murder you in your sleep."

"i get to look at your pretty face while dying? thats the greatest gift," kai smirks at you before shoving you back into a nearby tree, "and that was payback for shoving me."

"you deserved my shove. I didn't deserve yours," you huff leaning against the tree while kai looked at you from a few feet away. "what?" you ask. "do i have something on my face? if its dirt im blaming you, i've got lessons all morning after this."

he had an indecipherable look on his face. it only added to your confusion when he stepped closer, his body crowding yours the heat rolling off his skin and onto yours. still looking at you strangely he raises his hand slowly moving towards your face.

"what are you doing?" you meant it to sound questioning and stern but it just came out all breathy and high pitched.

his hand brushed you cheek as he raised it and pulled a twig from your hair. "you had something in your hair," his voice was soft and the moment crackled between the two of you.

there was no reason for you two to be standing that close. it was purely choice. and when kai's head dipped a little you almost gasped at how close you two were.

this was it, oh my god, you were getting your moment? that delusion was turning into a reality.

your breaths mingled together and you're ninety percent sure when kai's hand cupped your cheek and the other grabbed your waist you died a little inside - in the good way.

this was it.

"good morning guys!" a voice came from the other side of the training grounds as kitt strolled leisurely into the area.

kai stepped back from you quickly and headed over to chat with his brother but not before sending you a look that made you want to grin like a school girl.

maybe those delusions weren't so wrong after all.

[artstatues]

Yield, darling? - k.a × reader

wc : 817

pairings : kai azer x fem! reader, from powerless.

synopsis : you and kai grew up together, trained together, and now you guys were what people called best friends, until one particular training session.

a/n : this is my first x reader and my first time professionally writing a kiss so god bear with me but yeah and its been 2 hours so idek man

requested tag : @thisiskaylin, @urbanflorals, @reminiscentreader, @moondust-on-the-hijabi, @lxvebelle.

Malakai Azer was your best friend. He’s been your best friend since you were 12. Since you were old enough for your dad, the general, to take you to the castle. He’d take you there on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays. You loved and cherished every visit. You met the Princes of Ilya on your 4th visit, as the king saw how well you behaved. Well, of course you behaved, the only thing you did at the castle all day was walk around, explore more and more. By now you’ve memorized the entire layout of the castle. All 4 floors, you know how to get out, get in, noticed or unnoticed. But during those visits, you also began to train with the princes. At first, you preferred training with Kitt, since he was older than you, so was Kai, but you always felt like Kitt knew better, fought better. You were so wrong. He was a good fighter, yes, but the thing was, he’d always let you win. It wouldn’t be called training if he kept letting you win, so you tried training with Kai. You assumed he didn’t know much, since he trained with dummies and figures but oh boy were you horribly wrong. He terribly beat you up. Bruises everywhere, leaving your mother to scold you. You’ve barely talked to him before, but he eventually grew warmer, and didn’t absolutely beat you up all the time. Sometimes, you even switched mediums to using swords instead of hand to hand combat.

“Darling, enough, you’re going to ruin my gorgeous face.” Kai teased before sidestepping to avoid your stab of an attack. “Oh it’s not so gorgeous right now Kai,” You smirked before ducking to protect yourself from his blow, immediately taking advantage of his position to get behind him and pressed your dagger to his neck. “Yield?” Your smirk from earlier had returned. You’ve never been this close together before. Yes the both of you trained endlessly, but it never got this close. Well excluding the one time Kai had you pinned against a tree, knife to your throat. Even that wasn’t as close. You were pretty sure that he could feel your chest heaving. “Not so easily darling,” He smiled before making use of the fact that you were breathless, and the grip on your dagger was sloppy, since you were in fact, breathless. He flipped you over, your back landing harshly on the ground. Oh yeah, something’s definitely wrong in your skeletal system now. You audibly groaned, your face scrunched up in pain. Your dagger did do its job, though, it lightly tore Kai’s skin, resulting in a harsh hiss leaving his kissable lips. He wiped off some of the blood before you got up. Kai held his dagger, backing you up to a tree. Your back hit the tree, you winced because you were really done with this shit. “Kai I can’t-” You finally spoke up, but because of that, he strode to you in one long step, weapon hitting your throat. “Yield then, darling.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear. You could feel his smirk through your skin, but at the same time something tingled in your stomach, you were sure that your face was flush red now. You tried looking down to hide it only for Kai to tilt your head back up with his dagger. “Don’t hide away now, darling.” He still had that stupid smirk on his handsome face. His hand, equipped with the dagger, fell to his side. The tip of his dagger met your hand, trying to convince you to drop the weapon, and you did, because by his body language, you could tell that the atmosphere had changed. “Kai-” You whispered. He dropped his own weapon with a soft thud, or a clatter, you couldn’t even tell at this point, your mind hazy at him, the smell of his cologne, his body being this close to you. He leaned closer, tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear. All this training likely made your braid loose. “May I?” He asked, his eyes darkening. You could feel your knees weaken and your face getting hotter. You gave him a subtle nod and with that, it felt like you just entered the gateways of heaven, literally. His hands were on you, they were everywhere, one on your neck, the other pinning your hips to the tree. His lips were soft, so soft- delicate- gentle, tender- but also hungry, impatient- You ran out of words to describe it, but it sure as hell was the best thing you’ve experienced. Kai pulled away, “Plagues, darling, you really are something-” He gasped before kissing you again. You were breathless at this point, but even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Kai did, eventually, “So, darling, what do you say? Yield?” He smirked, his tone laced with husk.

[hrtfelt7]

i'll post the fic that i write tmrw or the day after and one for percy today x

[mostlyghostlyy]

Glad everyone agrees dale would be so pathetic. I need to sit in his lap and grind into him for several hours he would be writhing constantly and digging his nails into your skin so hard. Unable to even form a thought just whining and gasping for air with tears and drool rolling down his pretty face

Here's a short one before I get back to work!

I personally like the idea of grinding on him clothed. Like the sensation is there, but he can't get the satisfaction of actually being inside you. I think it would drive him crazy. The more layers, the better as he whines and squirms under you. He'd cry and cry and beg and beg for clothes to be removed, but at the same time, he would enjoy the tease.

Just imagine how pretty he would look. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears escaping and leaving tracks down his face. His mouth torn between gasps of air and moans. A symphony of “pretty pleases” and religious begging for you to be good to him. He's so sensitive to any touch you allow him. He can't help but jolt into you. His hips rolling to try and meet yours, keening whenever it doesn't feel the way he wants it to. Nearly wailing whenever his climax is fucked by a missed sensation.

You're rocking against him, shifting your hips across his clothed length. His head is buried in your chest, movement of your hips pulling strings of nonsense from his lips. Dote on him. tell him he's handsome, and he's such a pretty Rockstar, and you're so so so lucky that he's yours. I promise he's drooling and shaking. Say these things in a hushed voice, mouth close to his ear as you whisper flatteries of grandeur, nip at the lobe of his ear and now he's grabbing wickedly hard at your skin.

White-knuckle grip digging into the soft flesh of your hips. Attempting to pull them to-and-fro to satiate the mounting desire. Coo and tell him you'll take care of him. He has no choice but to comply, he's so obedient for you. Fingers still digging white hot Crescents into the skin, but he's content to relinquish control.

He's more than happy to sit for hours with you straddling him. Head lolling back in overstimulated ecstacy every time your hips roll into his. Various stages of dried cum and rough textured pants chafing on his now aching cock, he hisses at every sensation. Winces turn to shrill pleas to continue.

[ladyoflucky]

Perpetual who can barely do jack shit watching the Emperor act like an emotionally stunted freak who won’t let them go and all of a sudden the positive emotions they feel towards him turn sour and all they can feel is the acrid sting of fear as their independence is slowly stripped from them

[angstywaifu]

Request Guidelines

My inbox is always open for requests, or even if you want to talk about my writing! Always happy to hear from you guys! If you want to see what I have already written please head over to my masterlist! I do my best to keep this as up to date as I can. But this is the best place to see what other fics and styles I have written. Be as vague or specific as you want with your requests! If there is something specific you want out of your request give me all the details! If you want to give me a prompt or scenario you've read in another book or tik tok etc, let me know and I will do what I can! Or be as vague as you want and let my imagination run wild! I am comfortable written fluff, angst and smut. I am pretty comfortable writing most things, but I would prefer to avoid any topics of sexual assault and self harm. I am fine to allude to it, but I will not base any fics around it. Besides that get as smutty or angsty as you want (I am not held responsible for how angsty I may get). Below are characters I am comfortable writing for, but feel free to suggest or request others. Just keep in mind if it is a character not listed below I may not do the prompt, or it may take me a while to get to. Also feel free to pick multiple, who honestly.... why choose if you don't have to. FOURTH WING:

I am most comfortable writing for Garrick Tavis, Bodhi Durran, Aaric Graycastle and Xaden Riorson (Xaden will depend on the context for me as I do sometimes struggle to separate him from Violet).

Will also write for the below but I'm not as confident on these ones so it will depend on the request.

Brennan Sorrengail. Dain Aetos.

I will consider the below girls, but any smut would be implied as I am not confident in writing it just yet. Imogen Cardulo. Rhiannon Matthias.

ACOTAR: Azriel. POWERLESS: Kai Azer.

[dragqueenstarscream]

time to kill the vibeeee 12 17 20 tfp starscream 🔫

I LIVE! sorry for not answering, needed sleep and then had to clean off the driveway. anyway! time to nuke the vibe!

12 - genuine cruelty. he puts up with enough of it on a daily basis from megatron and the other decepticons. he can handle that at work, but if he returns to his berth and finds that his partner treats him like shit, that won't fly.

apart from that, he's not a fan of filth. he may not be knock out, but he's pretty vain and takes care of his appearance, and he expects his partner to do the same. i'm not saying you have to smell like roses and fairy dust 24/7, and he's pretty understanding if you're dirty from battle or sweaty from exercise, but if you look like you got dipped in bacon grease and smell like mold, he's gonna notice.

17 - it was probably after he'd gotten ripped a new one by megatron again. he came back to his berth thinking that he needed to be on top during sex to relieve some stress, but... it didn't really feel right. he ended up having to quit halfway through because he was so tired from the events of that afternoon. turns out, he just really needed some comfort. it ended in him laying his oversized head in your lap, venting about his day. maybe an unsatisfying ending to the night, but hey, he's just grateful to have you.

20 - absolutely no bringing up other bots, ESPECIALLY megatron. that's a surefire way to get him jittery and anxious.

don't go too far with pain. he can handle some, but don't do anything that he'll have to go to knock out to get fixed. not only does it mar his looks, it's also embarrassing to explain, and not in a fun way.

also, don't go overboard with humiliation. calling him whore, slut, princess? that's fine. he's into that. but get too angry, insult his character, call him a waste of a bot, things like that, and he'll get genuinely anxious to the point where he has to stop. rule of thumb: if it sounds like megatron would say it, don't bring it up in bed.

[xoxochb]

marriage is scary as fuck what if he’s not a 6’4, dimpled, black haired, gray-eyed enforcer, and prince of Ilya…

[anythinggoesbutme]

Like The Dawn

Kai Azer x Reader

Warnings: emotional vulnerability, angst, mentions of overwhelming responsibility/stress, insecurity about fatherhood, heavy fluff toward the end, discussions of pregnancy/babies, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: Years have passed since the battles that shaped your lives. Now, you and Kai are King and Queen, living in the gilded halls you once only dreamed of. But no crown is without weight.

The castle was asleep.

The stone walls hummed with the kind of silence only found after a long day of courtly battles—debates, signings, endless responsibilities. You could hear the guards changing shifts below, their armor clinking faintly as they moved through the courtyard.

You sat at the vanity, brushing through your hair with lazy, absent strokes. The night had worn you thin in the way only peace could, not exhaustion from fear anymore, but from the delicate balancing act of ruling a kingdom. You were humming softly under your breath, the melody a shapeless thing, a comfort.

Across the room, Kai stood in front of the tall windows, his figure carved into the night by the pale light of the moon. His back was to you, broad shoulders tense as he slowly, absently, undid the buttons of his dark button-up shirt. He wasn’t in any hurry, you noticed. He was watching the guards below, jaw tight, something heavy in the set of his posture.

You smiled at the sight of him—your husband. Your king. It still sometimes startled you, how natural it felt to think those words now. It had been years, but the wonder hadn’t worn off. You loved him more now than you had even then, when the world was ending and he had stood between you and ruin.

And lately, you had found yourself daydreaming.

Giddy little dreams, the kind you tucked close to your heart and whispered to no one.

Dreams of a cradle in the corner of your room. Of Kai asleep in the armchair, a tiny bundle against his chest. Of laughter filling these cold stone halls.

You wanted a baby.

The thought fluttered again now as you watched him, heart swelling so full it almost hurt. He would be such a good father, you thought. Strong, protective. Gentle, in the way only he could be when he forgot about the weight of the crown.

You set your brush down and padded across the floor, bare feet silent against the cold stone. The fire crackled low in the hearth, throwing golden light across the room.

“Kai,” you said softly.

He didn’t turn around. Just gave a low hum of acknowledgment, fingers still toying with the buttons at his cuff.

You reached out and touched his back lightly. His muscles tensed under your palm before slowly easing.

“Can we talk about something?” you asked, voice quiet, unsure.

That got his attention. He turned his head slightly, glancing at you over his shoulder. His eyes, those same blue, thoughtful eyes you had fallen in love with, softened when they met yours.

“Of course,” he said, even though you could hear the tiredness woven into every syllable.

You hesitated. The words felt too delicate, too new. But you couldn’t keep carrying them alone.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, twisting your wedding band around your finger, “about… the future.”

Kai’s body stilled again, like a stag scenting danger in the air.

“I want—” You faltered, cheeks heating. “I mean, I’ve been dreaming about… about having a baby.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

Kai turned fully then, the half-undone shirt hanging loose against his body. His expression was unreadable, a practiced sort of calm that only made your heart sink.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

You rushed to fill the void, voice tumbling out nervously. “Not right away, of course. I just, I don’t know, Kai, I keep thinking about it. About us, about everything we’ve built. It feels like… like maybe it’s time to think about building something more.”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He dropped his gaze to the floor, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, a tell you knew too well.

“Y/n…” he said, voice low, almost strangled.

You reached for him, fingertips brushing the bare skin of his forearm. “Hey. It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just— I needed to tell you what I was feeling.”

He exhaled shakily, as if you had pulled something out of him he wasn’t ready to give.

“I do want it,” he said finally, so softly you almost missed it.

Relief surged through you, but it was short-lived. Because then he added, “But I don’t know if I can.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Kai swallowed hard. You could see the war inside him, the years of holding everything in, wearing a mask even around you. He had gotten so good at it, you realized with a pang, that you hadn’t even noticed the cracks forming.

“I don’t know how to be… enough,” he admitted, voice breaking. “Not for the kingdom. Not for you. And not for a child.”

“Kai…” you breathed, heart breaking for him.

He finally looked at you, and the anguish there was raw, unshielded.

“I’m already failing at being king. I can’t fail at being a father.”

You moved without thinking, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his chest. His heart thudded violently beneath your ear.

“You are not failing,” you whispered fiercely. “You’re carrying the whole world on your shoulders, and you’re still standing. That’s not failure, Kai. That’s strength.”

His hands came up, hesitantly at first, then urgently, pulling you closer. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

“I’m scared,” he confessed, voice muffled.

You tightened your arms around him. “Me too,” you admitted. “But isn’t that how we’ve done everything, Kai? Scared and together?”

He let out a choked laugh, the sound rough and real.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, cupping his cheek with one hand.

“You’re not alone,” you said. “You never have to do this alone.”

He turned his head slightly to press a kiss into your palm. His eyes were shining, and he didn’t bother hiding it this time.

“I want it,” he said again, more certain now. “I want a family with you.”

You smiled, the kind of smile that made your whole face ache with the force of it.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I can’t imagine doing this life with anyone else.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep and aching, like he was pouring every word he couldn’t say into you.

Later, when you finally curled into each other beneath the heavy blankets, his hand found yours under the covers. Fingers twined together. Safe. Steady.

“You’ll be an amazing dad,” you whispered into the darkness.

You felt him press a kiss to your temple, his voice a breath against your skin.

“Only because you’ll be there to remind me who I am.”

And outside, the first pale light of dawn stretched over the horizon, soft and new and full of promise.

Just like you.

[temozarela]

-> isn't it good, norwegian wood?

GETO X READER MDNI, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, angsty geto, comfort, reader is kinda tired, plot

you and geto meet 6 years after his defection

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

TAGS: @sakuichan, @username23345

part 1

ao3 version

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You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen of your computer. You were supposed to be completing a report but the sun had long set and your brain refused to cooperate. Down-heartedly, you buried your head in your hands, stifling a yawn. Everything just seemed so… bad. Your hair was greasy, you were beginning to smell yourself through your deodorant and perfume, your coffee was cold, and you were the only person left in the office. Even Nanami had gone home 2 hours prior, leaving you to struggle over your half-finished report. Unfortunately for yourself and your coworkers, there has been an influx of curse users in Japan, meaning that your compulsory hours had been increased. At first you were delighted by the idea of some extra pocket money, but with all of the work you had been doing, there was no time to enjoy it. You knew it was getting worse too, you hadn't seen Gojo in a week and Shoko’s dark circles were deepening with every wave of injured sorcerers that washed up at her office. Of course, the higher-ups weren’t any help, so it had become the norm for you to wake up at 6am and return home at 10pm as you cracked down on the damages that the elders refused to assist with. This had been happening for a few months now, and you were exhausted. If it were any other situation, you’d request time off, but you knew that your coworkers would take on the burden if you didn’t. So there you were, fingers hovering over the keys as you tried to recount your hectic shift. It seemed so cruel, after stepping over so many dead bodies and dodging death countless times yourself, to be forced to relive it so soon. If they wanted to know what was happening, they could see for themselves. In fact, you’d welcome it. Maybe then, they’d dish out the work a bit more ethically.

You blinked slowly, attempting to force a rise of energy inside of you. You didn’t want to fall asleep at work again. Somewhere in the background, rain pattered against the windows. Shit. You reluctantly glanced at your screen, squinting at the brightness in contrast with the dark room. Realistically, you knew that you weren’t going to get anything else done that night, but you also knew that if you didn’t do it then, you would have to do it later. You groaned, wanting to slam your head against your desk more than anything. Tomorrow. You’d do it tomorrow. If you went home then and had a decent sleep, you’d be more motivated tomorrow. That’s what you told yourself. You were more than happy to turn the computer off and pack up your belongings. More and more, you were glad that you commuted by train, because the naps you took then were sacred, driving would’ve pushed you over the edge.

Arriving home looked like throwing your shit on the floor and staring blankly at the fridge, realising you were supposed to shop for groceries that day. Tomorrow you were headed into the countryside to check out suspicious activity, there was no way you’d be able to get your shopping done then. Usually you did city missions, but you were covering for the students. God knows they were doing too much as well. You sighed. There were enough ingredients for you to cook a meal, but you were so tired right now… you could go without… just for one night. Some nights you didn’t even change out of your clothes and you had given up on makeup a while back. At this point, your home felt like it was only your bed. Your TV, speakers, sofas, and books had gone untouched for so long, you’d be surprised if they weren’t blanketed with dust by now. You showered, of course, but it seemed like a mere blink before your body hit your bed. Sleep didn’t rest you anymore, but it was some sort of break in the chaos of your life. At the very least, you were happy to have that.

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The commute into rural Japan was pleasantly silent. It relaxed you to watch the swaying meadows roll past, the white splodges of sheep like a stroke of oil paint as the train hurtled past. You vaguely registered one or two others on the other side of the carriage, you remembered the monk especially. To your knowledge, it was your first time seeing a monk in public. Initially, the journey had been like any other: salesmen upon salesmen, and then a few. Each figure amongst the shuffling mass clad in a suit and tie, dark hair brushed back, and mouths set in a practised line between grey, hollow cheeks as they scrutinised each other through their furrowed eyebrows like some sort of Kubrick character. As the familiar robotic voice announced the train’s arrival at the city-centre, an encore of clicking shoes and soft whines of swinging briefcases played in a harsh crescendo, the piece hitting its chorus as the doors opened, and the salesmen poured out like river water through a broken dam. After that, it was quiet. On a weekday morning, not many were heading into the middle of nowhere, but it made sense to you that a monk might. The other man looked like a foreigner, so that wasn’t widely suspicious to you either, though you might have considered it further had you slept more the previous night. After an hour or so, your eyelids fluttered shut and you began to drift in and out of sleep, the beginnings of gentle conversation between the few other passengers barely registered by you, their low voices becoming incomprehensible as they were drowned out by the ambience of the train. Perhaps, if you had been more alert, you would have noticed that they were heading to the location of the investigation. Maybe, if you had realised that, you would have listened closer and overheard the utterance of a very familiar name. However, the world around you was in limbo, your drowsiness dosing your nerves in soothing honey as your eyelashes rested against your warm cheeks. Sleep was euphoric. It had become such a relief to you that you had abandoned any hopes of seeking pleasure through strangers or potential romantic interests, the effort of understanding and compromising was exhausting in itself and your mind still hadn’t gotten over your teen fling. You thought about it sometimes, the potential to reunite with him, but every year it seemed more and more impossible. Since he left, your coworkers relied on you more and watched you with the underlying concern that one day you would slip through their fingers. Although, another reason lingered at the back of your head. It had been 6 years, did he even still want you? You told others that you had moved on, but he waited at the back of your mind, tapping his foot impatiently. He appeared in your dreams as a looming shadow, only recognisable through the kind smile it bore. You also saw him sometimes in the faces of others, their dark eyes making you stop in the headlight of their stare- so close, yet so different to the expression you could love. Besides those torturous reminders, what you could remember of him was hazy, in fact you barely remembered what he looked like. That didn’t stop you from missing him, however. You remembered the comfort he once brought you. Perhaps that was what you missed most, more than his body or charm.

You blinked hazily as the train approached your stop. Lethargically, you reached for your bags, pulling them over your shoulder as you stepped off into the station, distantly followed by the other two passengers from your carriage. You winced as you finally made it outside, light rain beginning to fall from the greying sky. However, it was fulfilling to inhale the fresh air- much fresher than the air at Shibuya station- as you rushed to your taxi, and drove towards the investigation site which, today, was an abandoned hospital. Before your arrival, you instantly knew there was something wrong. It wasn’t unusual that the area was void of human life, after all, it wasn’t near any residential areas. Sure, it wasn’t particularly unusual that the plantation was yellow and clearly overgrown either. However, two of the windows on the second floor had been shattered, which wasn’t particularly unusual by itself, but the broken shards were littered below the outside of the building, rather than the inside. See, that was unusual. It had been broken from inside. Someone had needed to escape. Fast. Discreetly. There were fire exits left, right, and centre- as you’d expect from a hospital- it was strange that someone would choose to evacuate from a window on the second story. You knew it must have been an ugly building, even before it was neglected, the dull boxiness of the hospital seeming like the kind of brutalist hellscape you’d find in a post-Soviet city. The upper edges of the building were blackened by the weather, and the only visible colour could be found in the yellowed blinds which clattered and trembled behind the savaged windows. Your wary gaze found a half-filled syringe containing ominous orange liquid, discarded in the mud. It made sense since it was a hospital… but when you really thought about it… how did it end up there? It looked like this place had been practically untouched since its closure which was… probably around 10 years ago…

A shiver ran down your spine.

If the curse had anything to do with needles, you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around, you decided.

You hadn’t really been given clear instructions, in fact, you weren’t given much more than a place and a time. With a glance at your watch, you noted that you were 5 minutes early as planned, so it made some sort of sense to why you couldn’t see the window you were supposed to be meeting. It was only meant to be a quick chat to fill you in on the details before you looked for yourself, but you had assumed they may have arrived a little early anyway. Apparently that wasn’t the case, so you waited in the rain, feet planted in the overgrown grass and shivering as cold droplets trickled down your neck. The next time you checked your watch, it was the time of the meeting, and there wasn’t a single person in sight. Momentarily, you considered venturing inside. Maybe something had happened to them. You glanced around. The guy couldn’t have gotten lost, could he? It’s a pretty obvious landmark.

10 minutes late.

You were getting restless. And drenched.

The window could wait, you were heading inside.

The front door was unlocked, most likely in anticipation of your visit, and you walked into what you assumed had once been the reception. Everything was so… grey. You could tell that at one point, they had made an effort of decorating with bright colours, but years of neglect had sucked out the life like a backstreet dentist, leaving everything the same dull grey; not to discount the slight variations such as grey-with-a-hint-of-mustard-yellow and grey-but-slightly-pink-but-it’s-mostly-grey-who-are-you-fooling. It stank of wet paper and what you prayed wasn’t asbestos, as well as a lingering trace of chemicals. The mould was a delightful pop of colour however, adding a daring element of almost-grey-but-green onto the aged, pale wallpaper. You grimaced, seriously considering whether the window had been organised to hand over a hazmat suit and a Bible before you gave your life to spilled cleaning agents and an undiscovered fungus. Perhaps they’d name it after you when you died. It was the least they could do, really.

After you journeyed up the dark stairs, you approached the operating rooms, and a wash of dread doused you like cold water. Whatever it was, you were close to it. Very close.

Because of your distinct lack of briefing, you barely knew who or what you’d be facing. There was a growing feeling that you recognised something, whether it was the cursed energy signature from the imminent threat or the familiar arms of your creator, it sparked a powerful reaction in your gut. You squinted, trying to make out the outline of the doorway using the little daylight that reached the corridor. You couldn’t help but notice how it was shockingly tidy. Sure, it was fucking disgusting, but everything was in its right place, tucked away by the ghostly hands of a nurse one decade ago. For some reason, it made it all the more terrifying. You stopped in front of the door, attempting to breathe through the suffocating pressure of whatever was beyond the door. It really was familiar, but it was too powerful for you to focus on it. It was like trying to fight a court trial whilst being waterboarded, and you weren’t entirely sure you could do it in normal conditions anyway, but you definitely couldn’t whilst partially submerged in liquid. You knew that for sure. The sheer amount of cursed energy seeping through the cracks of the door was headache-inducing. You gritted your teeth.

It was disastrously clear, then. Whatever or whoever was on the other side of the door was not your intended opponent. This mission should’ve been a field trip for you. This, however. This was a Gojo-level enemy. Not as strong, of course, but it lay somewhere in the gaping gap between the strongest grade 1 sorcerer and Gojo himself. Needless to say, it was too strong for you. You could accept that fact easily. In all honesty, your pride had left you the moment you entered the hospital.

Slowly, you backed away from the door, eyes fixed on the source of the outrageous cursed energy signature. It was consuming, the same way smoke engulfs a room. Your breaths were shallow and your limbs felt numb, you were probably shaking too, but you knew it would be ok if you kept your existence unknown and made a nimble escape. As dull light began to assist your vision, relief filled you. You were almost out. A few more steps and you’d be back in the stairwell. Then you could run.

Except you couldn’t. Because your back had hit a wall. A wall that hadn’t been there before.

You looked left, then right.

No… there definitely… shouldn’t be a wall behind you…

Oh, God.

“Are you the window?” you nervously grinned at nobody in particular. You were staring too, wide-eyed at the dark corridor before you, well-aware of your hands shaking, “You’re awfully late, you know…”

“My apologies.”

“Ha…”

The sound of a smooth, human voice was somewhat of a relief to you.

You could talk your way out of this one.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for this for a very… long… time...”

…Or maybe you couldn’t.

Inwardly you groaned, wanting to cry, “Fancy being a good Samaritan and forgive me for my sins?” you tried. It was always worth preaching kindness to your potential murderer in what could very well be your final moments. They didn’t teach that at school, but it must’ve worked at least once before, right?

“Enlighten me.” The person- a man- behind you sounded stiff.

“I dunno,” you smiled weakly, “It might seem difficult to believe but… there could be a few people who’d have a bone to pick with me right now.”

The man behind you hummed in thought, “I’m shocked.”

“Really?” Since you started working more hours, you’d dealt with countless curse users. It’d be a surprise to you if there wasn’t a request for your bounty for you on some dodgy website. As much as you’d love a copy of your own ‘DEAD OR ALIVE’ poster to frame, the ‘ALIVE’ part terrified you. Unfortunately, being a wanted person wasn’t quite the honour that Luffy made it out to be.

“No.”

You scowled. In response, the man’s voice rang out behind you, “You don’t recognise me?”

“Aww,” you turned your head slightly to grin over your shoulder, “Did you think you were special? I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear that we weren’t gonna be exclusive.”

Suddenly you were being spun around.

“Are you sure that you don’t recognise me?”

You blinked.

You blinked twice.

That voice…

“Holy shit.”

The man looked at you in the dark.

“You’re that monk from the train.” …No… you knew him...

The man’s grip on you tightened, “Come on...”

You winced, “Is that… not it?” When he didn’t reply, you partially disregarded your fear in lieu of guilt, leaning closer to squint at him, “I can’t really see, sorry...”

“Oh, hang on-”

No, you definitely recognised him… buried deep in your subconscious… somewhere…

“Holy shit.” you exclaimed.

“Geto?”

Exasperated, Geto looked down at you.

“Obviously.”

“Sorry.” you smiled, sheepishly, “You wouldn’t have happened to see a window around here, would you?”

Geto’s frowned, “There never was one, it was a set-up.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to intercept the students… but you’re here instead.” You cringed.

Man, he’s pissed…

“Geeze, sorry.” you drawled.

It was strange seeing him again. Truthfully, you had no idea how to act around him. You still couldn’t see him very well, but the glistening gold silk on his robes made him shine like a heavenly figure, though considering his criminal record… he probably wouldn’t be an angel.

There were better places to run into your teen crush-turned-serial killer.

“There’s a special grade curse in there.” you pointed to the operating room you’d just backed away from.

Geto looked at you strangely, “I know, I put it there.”

Of course.

“Seriously?” you muttered, embarrassed, “Almost gave me a heart attack, you know…”

An awkward silence arose between the two of you. You had planned your reunion with him countless times when you were younger. Out of the hundreds of different scenarios, none of them started like this.

“I… um…” you scratched the back of your neck, “Wanna go outside? It’s just… it’s dark in here… I can’t, you know…” you cleared your throat, “I can’t see you.”

“It’s raining.” Geto replied dubiously, watching you as if he expected something,

You raised an eyebrow, “You scared or somethin’?”

Geto snorted, “Of course not, excuse me for not wanting to get soaked.”

“Right.” you’d forgotten about the rain, it wasn’t difficult to believe that it had gotten heavier than before, “We can sit in the reception if you don’t mind getting mesothelioma.”

“It’s not exactly ideal,” Geto sighed, “but sure that works.”

You wanted to slap yourself for the awkwardness between the two of you, but there was something about it which reminded you of your fondness for Geto. That was it, wasn’t it? The fact you were always able to be a social disaster around him was what initially drew you to him. He was patient, but not pitiful. Truthfully, sometimes he was even worse than you.

He followed you to the bottom floor as you headed towards the front door. Once you were outside, you turned to get a proper look at him. True, he was recognisable, but he had changed so much in these last years. Notably, Geto’s face had slimmed, emphasising the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the hollowness of his cheeks. He was less of a boy now, and if you hadn’t known him beforehand, he would’ve intimidated you. His hair was longer too, the strands framing his face reached the peak of his nose whilst the rest touched his lower back. Geto’s eyes were exactly how you remembered them though; deep and pensive. He had the kind of resting expression which made you second guess yourself when you suggested something. It had always seemed that with every casual, self-deprecating joke, Geto was analysing it, carefully peeling the fragile layers of the satirical overtones to expose your innermost vulnerabilities. To many, it was unnerving. Any casual comment intended to pull a negligent laugh from others received a dark, analytical look from Geto. That’s how it had always been, and it’s why you had taken a liking to him. Often, you couldn’t find the confidence to admit to distress or insecurity, but Geto always knew. He knew from the way you would chastise yourself for the smallest mistakes, and the fact you’d stop talking when you were overwhelmed. You didn’t have to say anything, and that was a relief to you. Geto knew. You wondered if he knew how you were feeling now- you sure didn’t.

“Are you ok?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. He was always difficult to read but he just looked at you. He wasn’t glaring, he wasn’t staring, he was just… looking. You watched him expectantly. “Geto?” you pressed. Geto didn’t respond, at least verbally. He just looked moderately pained, as he once did when he’d linger in the morgue with Shoko. His eyes flickered from you to the ground, almost… shyly? Was he shy?

“I was waiting for you.” Geto muttered, “You never came.”

Oh. Yeah.

Nevermind.

The honeymoon of your reunion ended with the clanging of a guillotine over cupid’s head. Inside of you, a small, childish hope had foolishly sprouted, praying that he’d be understanding. You cringed as you felt it shrivel up in the deepest depth of your gut, the blossoms blackening and ripping as it rotted within you.

“You act like your defection didn’t permanently scar the jujutsu society.” Geto raised his eyebrows, “Yes, it did.” you pressed before he could protest, “I couldn’t leave, even if I had wanted to. Yaga and Gojo wouldn’t let me out of their sight.”

And just like that, you were arguing.

“Did you even try?” he scoffed.

You groaned, “Believe it or not, Geto, becoming the housewife of a wanted criminal isn’t quite on my agenda. In fact, because of you I have more work to do than ever. We all do.”

“Just because everyone else is willing to suffer a poor job doesn’t mean you have to in order to save them.” Geto narrowed his eyes.

“Sure, but some don’t have a choice.” you challenged, “Remember Gojo?”

Geto scoffed, “Remember Satoru? Of course I do.” It was a low blow, you realised, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel guilty. “Who do you think I am?” he asked, voice low and hurt.

You shifted, awkwardly, “You left him to suffer.”

“He’s suffering?” Geto’s tone dulled.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry, “You thought he wouldn’t?” a pause. “Well,” you added, quietly, “I don’t know if he’s realised it yet but… yeah, he is.”

“Oh.” Geto’s lips thinned, offence flashing in his narrowed gaze, “Why would you tell me that?” he muttered, flinching backwards as if your words had punctured him like a misfired bullet.

“You wanted to know why I didn’t join you. That’s why.” You looked away, failing to grasp for words that would just fix things between you, “Well, that amongst other reasons…” You didn’t want to explain your own turmoil and struggles. Love didn’t equate to trust. You loved his touch and who he was, but you couldn’t trust the man in front of you to hear you and react fairly. It was all too predictable, and you feared that if you told him, your instincts would be proven. Sure, he’d always been cunning and sly, but also… manipulative. The word struggled to materialise in your brain, your subconscious trying to sugarcoat it as ‘intelligence’ and ‘caring’ in its reluctance to face his change.

His upset gaze softened, “Other reasons?”

You shook your head, “It’s not important right now.”

“I’d beg to differ.” Geto argued, “I have a right to know.” He was pushing you, testing you, even. You weren’t in the right headspace for this, you were so tired… so, so tired…

“You have no such right,” you scoffed, “but I apologise that you weren’t prepared for the consequences of your own actions.” A tense moment passed and you sighed, “If it helps, I wasn’t either.”

It was a poor attempt at softening the blow of your unfiltered words, but it wasn’t untrue. Betrayal pinched and poked at the supple flesh of your heart. You needed to realise it but… it wasn’t that easy. “No,” Geto stepped towards you, “It doesn’t.”

“Pity.” you rolled your eyes.

The dry remark left your lips before you could stop yourself. Geto froze. The silence that followed weighed on your shoulders, guilt creeping up on you.

“I’m sorry.” you murmured, “I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.”

The crawling discomfort at your own insincerity grasped your shoulders with heavy talons, the needle-sharp fingertips grazing your gentle skin, teasing your raw skin as blood threatened to bead in their wake and flow.

“It’s fine.” Geto said, stiffly.

You groaned internally, it all felt so childish. For a fleeting moment, you questioned the boy you once knew. Was Geto the boy who’d read with you on those humid summer nights, or was he the unsettling murderer in front of you?

“I wasn’t expecting you to keep to your promise.” he added, bluntly.

“I mean, I was 17,” you agreed carefully, “I had no idea what the future would hold. Neither did you.”

It was a lifeline, the final one you could spare. You could only beg that Geto would catch it with splayed hands.

Geto looked at you with scrutiny, “That’s true.”

It was enough. You could work with this.

You watched him warily, nodding slowly.

“Was it worth it?” Geto asked, seemingly more neutral.

Was it worth it?

“I don’t know.” You replied, honestly, “Things could be better.”

Geto stepped forward, putting his hand on your shoulder, “Then come with me. If things are worse, go back and I’ll take the blame.”

All too forward, predictable and exactly what you feared.

“…if you want to,” he added a second too late.

With narrowed eyes, you ignored him, instead choosing to glance around the clearing, noting the same emptiness as before. Geto didn’t move, his hair starting the curl as rain drenched the two of you. His hand on your shoulder started to feel heavy as he squeezed you gently, letting the presence of his reluctant affection be known, despite his hard stare. What could you do? You were still as unsure as you were 6 years ago about joining him.

“Where are you staying?” you asked, the action of your head cocking allowing cold droplets to trickle down the side of your neck. You regretted it instantly. Perhaps a change of environment would help things. Perhaps it’d help you understand.

“Not far from here.” Geto responded monotonously.

“I’d like to come over.” you tried, “Not for long.”

He nodded to himself, “Ok.”

Then he spared you a small smile and your heart leaped with the first and only genuine affection he’d shown you since you’d reunited.

That was him. That was Geto, right there. It wasn’t much, but you revelled in what you had.

You inwardly sighed, tiredly.

Maybe, just maybe, the two of you would get there in the end.

As you journeyed to his home, which really was in the middle of nowhere, you sat side by side in what was mostly silence. The two of you talked too, dropping shallow comments about your lives and complaints about the overly-touchy couple on the other side of the carriage as you took the train a few stops further out. More and more, Geto seemed like himself, even if the progress was minuscule. It was something. If anything, hope thumped in your chest- naive hope albeit, but hope nonetheless. After a while, you finally approached his home. It looked small, yet lived-in. Outside, rows of vegetation orbited the building, as well as trees bearing fruit in various stages of ripeness.

“The girls are out, I’m afraid.” Geto called behind his shoulder as he unlocked the door, holding it open for you.

“Girls?” you inquired as you walked in, “Daughters or hostages?”

Geto laughed quietly, “Daughters.”

“You got a chick pregnant?” your response was paired with the twitch of your lip and the stutter in your step. You knew it was hypocritical, the sinking disappointment, you chastised yourself for feeling it… however...

The door clicked behind him and you heard his footsteps stilled behind you, “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” you replied, shortly.

“C’mon.”

You turned to look at him, blankly.

“Of course not.” Geto rolled his eyes.

You blinked, “Oh.”

“They’re adopted.” The way Geto said your name afterwards was in disbelief, “I told you I waited, didn’t I?”

“You may have mentioned it,” you sniffed, “yes.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, “You’re unbelievable,” he walked past you, brushing your shoulder as he did so, “you’re seriously more butthurt by that than the fact I murder people?”

“Ok?” you felt your cheeks burn, “And what if I am? I have priorities, Geto.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes boring into yours, “So, your priorities are… what, exactly?

“Um…” You scratched the back of your neck, “Nothin’” you waved your hand dismissively with a strained grin. “None of your business, really.” you rambled, searching desperately for some sort of a reaction, “You could use it against me, y’know? It’d be very dangerous if I told you.”

Geto looked at you strangely, “…Right.”

He was supposed to smile… or laugh… or do something at the very least, not just… walk past you…

You wanted to press rewind and try this all again.

You wanted to go home.

After a lost moment, you followed him helplessly. It was a simple home. There was more evidence of life there than there was at your home, you knew that for sure. Drawings that were clearly drawn by an adolescent hand were woven throughout the decorations, depicting a family of three. It was clear that they were close. You felt left out. It seemed you had missed out on so much. Maybe Geto was right, maybe this was a better life. It still didn’t remove your responsibility in the shaman world, but Gojo’s students were the strongest they’d seen in years, right? Maybe you were allowed this. Maybe you were allowed to welcome your lover as they walked through the door in the evening, embracing them softly. Maybe you could have this life. It seemed completely out-of-touch, you couldn’t just leave. You knew that. However… something was stopping you.

Geto led you to his kitchen, pouring you a glass of water.

“Oh?” you took the glass from him with a small smile.

Geto pushed it into your hands, “Don’t tell me you’ve miraculously stopped being so dehydrated since we last talked.”

He had a point, to be fair.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You took a sip of the cool water, “I don’t think I’ve had pure water for around 48 hours…” you murmured absentmindedly, the rim of the glass pressed against your lower lip as you spoke, your breath fogging up the glass.

Geto grimaced, “Shouldn’t you be taking care of yourself? You’re not a teenager anymore.” he looked at you, clearly unimpressed, “I just hope your diet is faring better.”

“You’d think, right?” you watched his lips thin.

Geto muttered your name under his breath, “Seriously?”

“Been too busy.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

You hummed pensively, “Good question.”

The way Geto spoke your name this time was dull, his eyebrows furrowed. You took a sip of water.

“Fine, I’ll cook you something now,” he turned his back on you, “do you still like spicy food?”

You watched as he gathered ingredients and boiled a pot of water. It was a shy wash of comfort, being back in his presence like this. Lord knows how long it had been since someone last took care of you. The rising smell of fresh vegetables seemed almost foreign to you at this point. Whilst the noodles were cooking, Geto disappeared momentarily as he changed into a baggy t-shirt and trousers. There he was, he was more like the man you remembered. Less tired, perhaps, though maybe you had taken on that burden in exchange. You didn’t speak as you idly sipped on the water, feeling like a small child as he cooked the first proper meal that you would eat in ages. He hummed softly as he mixed the broth, it was something you hadn’t seen him do before. His voice was low, almost inaudible, as he repeated the melody of a song you knew he loved…

What was it…?

Geto’s humming turned to soft singing as he stirred the broth.

…Isn’t it good?

Norwegian wood…

Oh, now you remembered it.

…She asked me to stay,

And she asked me to sit anywhere…

You hadn’t heard that song for years, not since he left. Geto used to play music as he cooked, ambling around the kitchen as he hummed to himself. You remembered how Gojo used to tease him about his ‘old man’ music. You did too. Affectionately, of course. It seemed so long ago, how you’d all linger in the doorway, despite his questionable music taste, hoping to grab a bite of whatever he was cooking. You forgot how good of a cook he was, you were looking forward to your meal.

As he cooked, the songs changed, ranging from ones you remembered to what you guessed were newer additions. When Geto began dishing up the food, he gestured for you to sit in the living room. And so you did, settling onto a sofa as you eagerly anticipated your meal. After a moment, he sat down opposite you, placing the bowl on the coffee table in front of you with a gentle tap.

You felt the warmth of the steam below your chin as you picked the bowl up.

“None for yourself?” you asked before experimentally sipping the broth.

It was as good as you remembered, you gladly noted.

Geto shook his head, “I already ate.”

“Ah.” you took a mouthful of noodles, “Makes sense.”

You ate in what was mostly stiff silence, interrupted by a few passing comments about the food or your lives. Out of the corner or your eye, you noticed Geto watching you, head resting on his hand. His lips were tugged into a pensive frown, his gaze gentle yet lost, as if a whirlwind of thoughts happened to be storming in his mind. Had you been less tired, maybe you’d be doing the same. Right now, however, you were enjoying some warm, hearty home cooking. Overthinking could wait, you were hungry.

“What will you do when you’re done here?” Geto asked suddenly, voice raised.

You swallowed your mouthful, studying him carefully, “Huh?”

“You would be less overworked if you reported me, so will you?”

What kind of question was that?

“I’m not gonna do that,” you swirled the noodles through the broth absentmindedly, “Though I do have a question…”

Geto raised an eyebrow.

“Assuming I don’t report you, I’ll be neutral,” slowly, you sat back, watching him, “Taking that neutrality assumes the side of the oppressor, then who do I side with?”

He sighed, “Me. Probably. That’s what you think, right?”

“Is it?,” your fingers drummed against the armrest, noting his tone like a pinch of salt mixed into a pot of honey, “Does that make Gojo the oppressed?”

“Going by that logic, yes,” he replied, too easily.

You took another mouthful, suddenly grateful for the distraction of eating, “And I?”

“Shooting yourself in the foot,” Geto said after a pause, “to you.”

“To me?” you echoed quietly, “I guess.”

“Still going to protect me?” Geto’s lip twitched as he watched you, ever-so carefully.

“I guess.” you repeated. The last thing you needed from him was a rivalry, you were initially hoping for a truce of some sort but the void darkness in his eyes drained the last hope you had. “I’m not here for justice or to solve anything, I’m here for money, mostly.”

Geto snorted shortly, “No different to the rest, then.”

“I guess not.” you chose to ignore the sting behind his words.

The two of you settled into waves of rumbling quiet as you finished your food. Geto seemed somewhat more distracted as he began to hum again, almost inaudible to you this time. You missed this- him, even. Despite the obvious, he held some sort of familiarity to you that not many did- now that you savoured. The two of you came together as you tried to fit together again, pushing and pulling at each other like oil and water.

“Y’know,” you placed the bowl down, “you’re acting all strange.”

Geto grinned, thinly, “Am I?”

“You are,” you couldn’t help but match his expression, “you know it too.”

His smile widened like the Cheshire cat, “Do I?”

“You do.”

A second of silence lugged by like a three ton truck.

“I missed you, Geto.”

The rain knocked against the windows gently, beading like crystals in front of the puffs of smoky black clouds consuming the sky. The lack of sunlight meant the room became darker too, the dim light doing little to relieve the gloominess of the bad weather. Outside, a wind chime rattled with the gust of the temperamental wind. Inside, the soft tapping of Geto’s fingers against the wooden table paused, leaving the ticking of the clock to slice through the ambient howling and tapping of the weather against the walls. Inside of you, however, your heart and brain played a tentative game of tug of war. You just did something big.

Like, really fucking big.

Well… not really, but nobody had told that to Geto, evidently, suggested by the way he gasped at you almost comically, eyebrows arched.

“I also like you, so if you wouldn’t mind fishing out the astronomical log up your ass, I’d like to have a conversation with you about it.”

Geto coughed, “Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok.”

You looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You didn’t even try to reach out to me.” he started, bluntly. “You didn’t try to find me. None of you did.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling very unprepared.

Geto continued, “I’m not even upset that you didn’t come with me, you just didn’t tell me.” you nodded, mind racing.

“I couldn’t.” you replied.

“And that’s the worst bit,” His lip twitched as he looked away, “I can’t even be mad at you for it. You were just protecting yourself-”

“And you.”

Geto blinked.

“I was being tracked.”

Geto’s lips parted slightly.

“Same reason Gojo and Shoko didn’t come to you,” you told him, “Gojo knows where you are, he has done since the day he found out you left.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Geto.”

“I mean,” Geto coughed, “It’s fine I guess, but-”

“Not for that,” you rushed, gaining an unimpressed look from the man opposite you, “I’m sorry that things happened this way. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you when you were spiralling. I’m sorry that there was nobody there for you when you left.” you took a deep breath, “I wasn’t the person you needed me to be, though I’d like to be. If you’ll let me.”

Geto studied you, pensively, “Does that mean you’re staying?”

You winced, “I’m not leaving you again.” you offered. You weren’t quite ready to admit to yourself that you were leaving home. Not yet, anyway. “I’m not doing any of the murdering though, you can do that.” you grimaced.

After a pause, Geto laughed.

“Ok.” His gaze was warmer than it had been, more open, “I’d love that.”

“Murder? Yeah I figured.” you muttered despite yourself.

Geto simply laughed harder. He really was a sight for sore eyes. The way he smiled, the way he looked away when he smiled, the way his hair fell over his face when he shook too much… God, you-

“I missed you too.”

Your mind went black.

Oh, you had told him, hadn’t you? And he felt the same way. Surely there was a logical conclusion to this.

You stood and moved to sit next to him. Then you leaned towards him, noticing the way he flushed at the proximity.

“Can I?” your hands hovered in front of you as you moved to touch him.

He nodded.

Your hands tentatively reached to cradle the sides of his face, thumbs gently rubbing circles into the curve of his jaw. Geto’s hands moved to cover yours as he watched you, wide eyed.

“Can we? I’ve wanted this for so long… Just- trust me, ok?” you whispered, stumbling over your words, your voice low. He nodded faintly before his eyes flashed with indescribable emotion.

“Ok.” Geto sighed, almost inaudibly to you.

You smiled, “Ok.”

As you withdrew your touch, your fingertips lingered on his skin, grazing the surface of his soft, olive cheeks. He tilted his head as you moved, chasing your warm palms.

“Can I kiss you… Suguru?”

You saw him stiffen as his name rolled off your tongue. Geto blinked at you before the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a grin. In place of a verbal response, he mimicked your earlier actions, taking your head into his palms. His touch was gentle, yet firm as he guided your face towards his. The feeling of Geto’s warm breath on your smiling lips made you buzz with anticipation, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering as you itched towards the sweet nectar of his mouth. He met you in the middle, fingers threading through your hair as he ever-so gently scratched your scalp with his blunt nails. You sighed, content, eyelashes fluttered close against your hot cheeks. It was a nostalgic kiss, a loving one, not the same heated one you shared so long ago. As your lips moved against one another’s, you were fixated on the lingering heat of his body, craving it like an addict for the mere seconds the two of you parted for air.

As soon as Geto urged your lips open with the swipe of his tongue, you knew you weren’t going back.

The desperately intimate movements of your tongues became hypnotic: rubbing, prodding, tangling. Your hands had slipped round his neck, your chest pressed against his torso. When you parted, you buried your head in the crook of his neck, lips pressed against the flushed skin as you panted. Above you, Geto gently stroked your hair, playing with the soft strands as you both gave yourselves time. You weren’t teenagers anymore, you couldn’t jump into something so intense without the knowledge that there was definitely an unwavering mutual understanding between the two of you. Slowly, you pulled away, looking up at him with wide eyes. The hand in your hair moved to brush the stray hairs away from your face, tucking them neatly behind your ear.

“Are you ok?” Geto murmured, leaning into you so that his lips hovered millimetres away from your cheek. The proximity, whilst lustful on the surface, carried more depth than you could comprehend. The weight of his hands, his lips, his voice, his words, were like bricks in your pockets, pulling you impossibly deeper into the encompassing aura of - just him. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was in particular that pulled you to him, realistically you knew it was a mixture of the history you shared and the absence you’d endured, but it was overwhelming and not enough all at once. Maybe it’d be a while until the trust you’d once shared would be recovered. Maybe it never would be. The consequences of your assumptions and his isolation could haunt you together. His radicalisation, your indecisiveness… maybe you were a lost cause, but the way hummed so soothingly as you nodded your affirmation doused your doubts immediately. He kissed you again, harsher this time, his grip on you tighter as he held you with desperation. You knew then, if you left now, you were never to be forgiven. But if you stayed... If you stayed, he’d never let you go.

Each touch rolled into another like the crashing of waves. Your shirt had been discarded by the fireplace a while ago, leaving Geto to revise the curves and contours of your torso with his left hand, fingers dipping into the hollows of your ribs and splaying over the small of your back. The whole time, he watched you, eyebrows pinched and mouth frowning in thought as he traced the tempestuous dark circles below your eyes with his right thumb. You were patient, meeting his distracted gaze as you idly played with his hair. This wasn’t the rushed goodbye you’d shared 6 years ago, this was a coronation of his love. Minutes passed and you were laid on the sofa, bare to his dark eyes. You had taken it upon yourself to step out of your underwear and to unclasp your bra. It was endearing, the way Geto obediently watched, eyes flicking between your breasts and cunt as you dropped the garments to the side. Amused, you cocked your head to the side, “Are you ok?”

Geto blinked at you, tugging at the hem of his shirt, “Yes,” he mumbled, looking to the side embarrassedly as he pulled his shirt over his head, “how did you want to do this?”

You hummed in thought. To be honest, you weren’t really that bothered, but it touched you that he asked. Though, you were aching and tired, so.. “As we are,” you replied, stifling a yawn, “please.”

He smiled at your apparent tiredness and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I’ll go slow but tell me if it’s too much, ok?”

You nodded.

“Good girl.”

Good girl?

Good. Girl.

You were fucking reeling.

After Geto wrestled his trousers and boxers off, he slid his hand between your thighs and pushed them apart, carefully. He leaned over you, using his own thighs to keep yours open as he kissed you again, messily, lazily. You sighed into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck as he moved his knee forward until it grazed your most sensitive parts. As Geto slipped his tongue into your mouth, you gasped at the sudden plethora of sensations- all of them far too much, yet far too good. You took your time as you grinded against his knee, moaning and muttering curses against his swollen lips. A few years ago, maybe you would’ve been embarrassed by the amount of time it took for you to feel ready to take him, but you didn’t want to rush this. It was as precious as the climax itself, and the pleasure of basking in his warmth and affection made you giddy and hot. You cracked an eye open as you parted for air to check on Geto, your hips not stopping their lethargic, yet desperate rocking against his knee. What you found wasn’t boredom or impatience, rather intense affection and peace in the stare of your lover. It was oddly sweet compared to the obscene way his knee glistened with your slick. Content, you closed your eyes again, letting Geto’s gentle lips on your chest and neck lull you into an orgasm that had your toes curling and back arching. He coaxed you down with soft encouragement and kisses as he moved his knee from your core.

You grinned as you looked at his awed expression, “Come on.” you teased. Geto rolled his eyes before adjusting your positions.

After a moment he settled, lowering himself to be closer to you. “I love you,” he whispered, peppering kisses over your face, “so, so much.”

A smile spread across your face before you could stop it, “I bet you say that to all of your victims.” you teased.

Geto groaned, “God, shut up.”

You laughed to yourself, breath catching as you felt him press against your entrance. The way he looked at you felt like lying in sunlight, and you forgot how tired and irritable you had been. This was all you had ever needed. Him- that was all.

It had been a while since you last slept with anyone, so the intrusion initially stung. However, a few kisses and gentle whispers later, he had eased himself in completely, and you were burning with anticipation. Geto looked at you carefully, visibly holding himself back.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” you adjusted yourself slightly, “m’fine.”

He grinned, kissing the column of your neck before he started moving, hands bracing you by your hips. Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead and chest, causing his hair to stick to his face. You knew you were the same too, unable to ignore the way yours was sticking to your neck. Lazily, you pulled him further down onto you, wrapping your legs around his hips like a boa constrictor, causing him to penetrate you even deeper. The silence of the room was disrupted by the rhythmic groans and gasps the two of you released every time he rocked into you. You were so full, it felt like your nerves were on fire as he pushed against that spot inside of you that made you see heaven.

“Shit-” you whimpered as he sped up, biting into his shoulder as you gasped and moaned against the reddened skin.

Geto wasn’t faring much better as he uttered curses against your cheek, mixed within prayers and declarations of your beauty and significance.

“You’re so,” Thrust. “Fucking,” Thrust. “Pretty,” Thrust. “Like this-”

You could feel the hot puffs of air against your ear as he helplessly whined, his pace quickening despite himself.

“I’ve been,” Thrust. “Thinking about,” Thrust. “Doing this,” Thrust. “Since,” Thrust. “Last time-”

You couldn’t help it, the way his words drove you towards your peak like a wildfire.

“Please, Suguru,” you moaned, rocking against him as his cock hammered into you, “I’m so..”

“Close?” Geto grunted, “You’re close?”

“Fuck- yes!”

He swore under his breath.

Your back arched, chest pressing against his as his calloused fingers found your throbbing, ever-so sensitive clit.

You were so close, so, so, so close…

“Cum for me.”

With a scream, your orgasm washed over you, causing you to tremble with the intensity. Geto’s pace didn’t falter as you rode out the after effects. Well, not until he followed you closely after. Hips stuttering, you whined as you felt his cum drip fill you. He moaned loudly, eyebrows furrowed and abs flexed. You decided that it was one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

For a while, you panted against each other, Geto had collapsed on top of you and was now curled into you, head tucked beneath your chin. Absentmindedly, you stroked his air, sighing softly as he kissed your neck tenderly.

“Did I hurt you?” you felt his voice vibrate through where you were touching. Geto’s voice was low and rough- exhausted probably.

“Nah,” you replied easily, “tired though.”

He yawned, “Stay here then.” he muttered, sounding half asleep.

You laughed sardonically, “Is this part of your elite plan to stop me going back?”

Geto sat up, looking at you strangely, “You’re still thinking of going back?” He sounded more judgemental than hurt.

“Well,” you snorted, “probably not now.”

“Fucking hell,” Geto flopped down next to you, cuddling you again, “you scared me.”

You kissed the crown of his head apologetically, “Sorry, Suguru.”

The two of you laid on the sofa together in silence, communicating purely through loving touches and glances. Outside, you heard the rain become heavier on the windows, drowning out the buzz of the kitchen.

“I love you too,” you blurted, suddenly reminded of his abrupt confession, “by the way.”

Geto huffed, “I figured.”

“I’m staying here.” you added. A confirmation.

You felt him press a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“I figured that one too.”

You sighed, “I’ll need to go home and grab my stuff… and quit my job…” Geto snickered on top of you, “what a bore…”

“How long will that take?” he asked, voice rough.

“Like,” you wrinkled your nose, “three days, maybe.”

Geto groaned, “‘S long time.”

“Yeah,” you agreed irritably, “what a drag.”

He snorted, “I miss you already.”

“Tease.”