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positively-mine · 8 months

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You’re a girl?!

how the twst boys find out you’re a girl & their reactions

tags: afab, accidental touches

a/n: very much self indulgent BUT I COUNDNT STOP THINKING 🤔 what if because it was a boys school that they didn’t have skirts and basically Crowley just made you wear the uniform & you didn't tell anyone. Like epel and lilia’s case, they just thought you were a feminine guy (p.s I just started and I haven’t read any spoilers, except for some info from reddit so I’m very sorry if this has already been covered/ revealed) very gacha coded but PLSSSSS bear this brain rot with me

Some spoilers: until book 3

Series: ❤️ 🧡 🩵 💛 💜 💙 💚

Ace

This can go two ways. Firstly, is that he was chasing deuce or Grimm around and you happen to be walking around the corner. And BAM. You’re both on the ground with him on top of you, caging you into his arms. With both his hands conveniently placed on two lumps on your chest. It takes him a good 3 seconds of staring and squeezing before he realises what they are. What you are. Immediately feels embarrassed and starts screaming and scarmbling to get up.

Orrr he has gotten so used to coming into ramshackle house as he pleases and barges into your room without knocking. You’re both guys, so what’s the problem? Big mistake. Because you’re changing and literally only in your under garments. He’s all red and hot faced before he’s running out of your room and the house into the walkway to calm himself down.

The next time he faces you, he’s apologising while avoiding eye contact. He knows you’ve been through thick and thin together but it really did feel as though his whole world view was shattered when he found out. When he’s hanging out with you, he’s much more careful of where he places his hand and tries to look out for you. Definitely tried to act more manly as well, like when there's an overblot about to happen he either pushes you behind him or blocks you with his body..

Deuce

The way i see this going down is that he’s got his gangster mode on from whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into (or for convenience sake; the broken eggs in book 1). And he’s trying to push you away to stop you from stopping HIM from picking a fight. And something soft hits his forearm. He turns to look at you chest before he quickly realises. He’s screaming like a banshee while moving as far away as he can from you. The initial quarrel was forgotten and now his head is spinning. Thoughts like “what would my mother think if she knew what i did??”, “HES A GIRL?! I MEAN SHE” and so on. The walk back to the kitchen is so quiet that you could basically hear Grimm’s grumbling all the way from Heartsbyul kitchen. Once you arrived back at the kitchen, the guys are wondering why its so quiet between you two but pay no mind to it.

He gets awkward around you every once in a while when realises how close the two of you are but still tries to make up for it. Also becomes more diligent in trying to withhold his gangster personality. He doesn’t want to show anymore of his nasty side to you when he can show you how well he can treat you. Lest he wants to lose you to some other guys…

Trey

This one's tough. I don't know if he has sisters so let's just say that he has. He's one of the first few to realize that you're a girl, being the ever observant person that he is. He sees the pattern when you start getting a little bit more emotional than you are. Snapping at Adeuce and Grimm when you're usually much more patient, getting upset at small things or when he catches you tearing up when you talk about returning to your own world. Yeah he definitely knows.

So it's no surprise when you start to receive more baked treats from him and he's piling up all sorts of nutritious food onto your plate when you sit together. The others are wondering why he's doing that when you're capable of doing it yourself. It's only after several months of this treatment that you realize he knows that you're a girl. And when you confront him about it, "I can't help but want to take care of you when I see you".

Riddle

I like to think that you’re having tea together. He’s invited you to another one of their dorm’s many reason to have tea. Grimm and Ace are fighting for the last cookie and accidentally knock into you as you pick up your teacup. Splashing the liquid all over your dress shirt. Riddle is of course, furious. Rule #363, never spill your tea. Especially on a Tuesday. He’s screaming at them both when his eyes move to check if you’re okay. And that’s when he sees some blue peeking out at the wet area of your shirt. It takes him a quick second to march over to you and drape his blazer over you. “You should go back and change. Make sure to take a warm bath unless you want to catch a cold.” You nod at him confusedly. He watches as you make your way down the steps. He turns to the rest of the members with pink tinted cheeks. “Unfortunately this tea party will have to be cancelled,” and he quickly turns back to walk to his dorm before anyone can say anything.

The next time you see him, his cheeks are tinted pink and he’s trying very hard to not make eye contact with you. Overall, most of your relationship stays the same except that he’s inviting you over for tea more often. But this time its just the two of you. And his excuse? It changes every time. Sometimes its because he says he wants to talk about Adeuce and Grimm’s behaviour, and sometimes it’s because he wants your thoughts on which tea set is better.

Cater

For his case, it's not that he found out, rather he overheard it from a rowdy pair of first years and a cat. He was walking to his next class and about to turn around the corner when he overheard their not so very hushed conversation. His eyes widen very similarly to the saucers that they use for tea. He's kind of upset that he didn't find out himself, but learned it through someone else. Oh well. It's a win-win situation for him anyways.

So when he starts being much more clingier to you and offering to walk you to your classes do you start to get suspicious. He’s always coming over to sit together at your table and visiting you at Ramshackle more. Lounging on the beaten up sofa while you do whatever work you have to. Keeping you company for as long as he can. Or at least until Riddle calls him back or you kick him out. Whichever comes first.

Now imagine there’s a celebration of some sort and he’s excitedly running up the steps to Ramshackle to formally invite you as his date. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he smiles cheekily. And from behind him he pulls out a beautiful dress. “Will you be my date?” No misunderstanding his gestures now.

reblogs appreciated!

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kenananamin · 7 months

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A Sorcerer’s Spirit

A story inspired by the 1947 film The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. Summary: You move into an older house that keeps going up on the market. Avoiding all the warning signs, you move in and meet the ghost of a sorcerer named Nanami Kento. Nanami sees you struggling with the piling bills that could put your livelihood at stake and suggests you write stories from his life to sell and help decrease the growing worry.

Preview: Nanami rounds the couch and sits beside you, “I have a plan.” You raise an eyebrow at him, “My life was not exactly… normal. Not a lot of people know about what I do — did. I think you can make some money with my stories.” You put down the letter in your hand and furrow your brows, “What?” Nanami shifts to face you, “Write my story. We can write it as a thriller or mystery or supernatural piece. We can change the genre depending on the story.” He explains with a proud grin and... you're confused.

Warnings: implied spoilers, mentioned deaths of several characters

Tags: nanami kento x fem!reader, sad, angst, ghost nanami, sad reader backstory, happy ending

~6.3k words

You sit at your table with the growing pile of bills and a throbbing headache. Having to move during such a difficult time and changing the address to every single letter you dread every month was absolute torture. You weren’t even able to unpack anything for your room, bathroom, or kitchen. Your priority was the big plastic bin with pending letters.

2:34am. You weren’t going to finish anything else for the night, so you stand to go to your mattress instead. God knows where the blankets and pillows are so you grab your jacket to use as a blanket for the night. I’ll deal with it tomorrow, it’s not like it’s going anywhere, you think.

You sleep almost immediately after laying on the mattress and if you had stayed awake for a minute more, you would have seen the figure appear by the doorway.

“Hmm,” the man by the doorway ponders, “I wonder how long it’ll take for you to leave…”

———

You wake up with the sun shining directly on your face, “Damn it. I should’ve put the curtains up.”

You take the sun’s assault as your sign to start your day. Going past the table full with the pending letters, you grab a couple boxes labeled bathroom and start unpacking. You were ready to settle into the house and you did not plan to move again. The landlord was a bit hesitant to rent this place to you but it was the size you needed and you just had to ignore the other warnings this place had attached to it. If you didn’t bother any other … things … that were here, then they would leave you alone too … right?

The doorbell rings and you knew it was the moving company with your bigger furniture. Four men start moving everything in and you focus on unboxing the things that were in their way. You’re putting a shoe rack in the entryway closet and close the door when you see a man standing right behind the cloor.

“Oh shit!” you jump back, “Oh – oh gosh, I’m so sorry, you just scared me.” You try to laugh off the weird encounter and look back at the man, “Sorry, was I blocking your way?” You move to the side and make space for the man, but – you notice he’s not holding anything… and his attire is very different from the movers.

“For how long are you planning to stay?” he asks with his hands in his pockets.

Did this random man just barge into your house?!

“You’re… not a mover. Please get out of my house, now.” You block the way to the rest of your house with your body and step forward.

The man chuckles and steps forwards too, “That’s my line. You get out of my house.”

You step back to turn and call one of the movers to help, but the man literally… disappears. You’re frozen in your entryway for a moment but you run into your house looking for the man. Maybe he just went past you and you think he disappeared?? The oldest mover goes to you and asks if you’re ok, worry obviously stitched into his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, umm, are any of the movers wearing like a – a suit? Or did anyone see someone else around the house?”

The older man looks to his colleagues but quickly turns back to you, “Miss, it’s only the five of us here.”

———

You spend the rest of the day looking around for that man. You looked in every room and closet and even checked the perimeter of the house for any possible breach. All windows were locked and doors closed. It makes sense that the man was at the entryway, the door was wide open for the movers… but where did he go?

You’re back at your table, trying to read the new bill that came in today, but distracted with the thoughts about that man that entered your house. You lean your head down on the table and focus on your breathing to try and avoid any panic or anxiety.

“Your furniture is too small for this place.”

You immediately lift your head to the voice that broke your silence, to the voice you recognized from that morning. How did he get in here?

You push your chair away and stand up to prepare to defend yourself if needed. The man looks you up and down and quietly says, “so dramatic.”

You grab the scissors you were using to shred the old letters and hold them in front of you, “What are you doing here?! How did you get in here?!”

The man looks at the scissors and laughs a bit. He starts to close the gap between you as you step back while swinging the scissors at the man who kept getting closer and truly scaring you. You keep stepping back and back and end up against a wall, and he steps right in front of you – right in front of you. You look to your hands that you know are still holding the scissors, but anything beyond your wrists – there’s nothing. Your wrists, hands, and scissors are inside this man’s chest and he is nonchalantly standing right in front of you.

You might have screamed, maybe, you aren’t too sure. But you know you faint and fall to the floor and the last thing you see are this man’s polished shoes.

———

You wake up against the cold floor. A male voice rings out, “You’re the first person to actually move all their furniture in here and unpack the bathroom and kitchen. Most people unpack their towels, maybe their toothbrushes and a pot or pan before running out again.”

You start to sit up, deciding if you should come to terms with the fact that you’re being held hostage in your own home. “Who are you?” You tried asking as brave as you could but the shakiness in your voice couldn’t be hidden and quickly gave you away.

The man is sitting on your couch, legs crossed and one arm leaned against the back of the seat, “I actually feel bad that you fainted and reacted the way you did so I won’t play my games right now,” he stands and makes his way to your spot on the floor. “I’m Nanami Kento, and this is my house.”

His house?? You furrow your brows and open your mouth to talk but he, Nanami, interrupts, “Yes, my house. I’m dead. But this is still my house. Haunted places don’t do well in real estate so not many people make it here, but the ones that do immediately leave because again – my house. I make sure people don't stay for long.”

You don’t move from your spot, speechless by this man. In a truly inexplicable way, you might, maybe, perhaps believe him...

“So when do you leave?”

The question brings you out of your shock and you stand to confront him, “I am not leaving! Your house?!” you scoff, “Sir, this is my house now. I am not leaving my house because a ghost in a suit refuses to leave limbo! Now leave!!”

Nanami grimaces but leans in to stop inches away from your face, “We’ll see.”

———

You get used to wearing your headphones the whole day around your house. You would flinch when you’d turn the corner and see Nanami lounging around or, in a couple occasions, waiting for you as soon as you opened a door.

You would see his lips moving, trying to talk to you but you’d look past him and continue what you were doing. It’s been over a week since you moved in and you’ve only had a couple conversations with him that usually end up in him calling you a “stubborn girl” before your headphones are back on.

You’re walking back home with a few groceries. The house was not too far from the store, but it was a good distance to let your ears rest from the headphones. And think about those bills. You would be ok with the next few payments since you’ve saved enough in the bank, and your job could cover a bit more after that but you’d run out of funds soon and have to live paycheck by paycheck. Then your mom would move in, then your brother too. Three mouths to feed…

You rub your face and walk into your house.

“I thought your name was y/n.”

You flinch after hearing Nanami’s voice. Shit, you forgot to put on your headphones. You start taking off your shoes and respond, “It is.”

“Then why are those medical bills written to a ‘Mari’?”

You look up to the man with his hands in his pockets, “Were you looking through my stuff?! Stop looking through my stuff!”

He tilts his head, “I didn’t go through anything. You always leave everything out on that table.” He shrugs after seeing your glare, “I got bored looking out the window, so I started reading what I could.”

You scoff and roll your eyes as you make your way to the kitchen. Nanami follows you and tries to peek inside your grocery bags.

“So why are there so many bills?” Nanami asks and leans on the counter as you take out your things.

You don’t feel like answering so you ask him, “Why is this house so cheap?”

To your surprise, he answers and points to himself, “It’s haunted.”

You roll your eyes and grab the butter and milk to put in the fridge.

He continues, “And over the years, this area hasn’t been as popular. The area west of here is in demand so this whole neighborhood has been going down. It might get really quiet around these streets soon.”

You close the fridge and look at him. You honestly weren’t expecting any sort of answer from the man despite the very simple question. He usually ignored your questions too and you just asked the first thing that came to mind to avoid answering his question. You take a deep breath, Oh what the hell, it's a ghost, “A lot of them are medical bills,” Nanami looks into your eyes as you explain, “My parents and brother were in a really bad car accident. The other car got away and there was no insurance to help. Everyone was hospitalized and the bills… didn’t stop. They lost their house after that and… and my dad passed shortly after.” You clear your throat as you finish your explanation, “Funerals are pretty expensive too…”

There’s a short silence before you hear a soft and genuine, “I’m sorry. It seems like you’ve taken over everything.”

You nod but look away from the man before he can notice your glossy eyes.

“Is that why you need this house? A place for your mom and brother?” he softly asked.

“Yeah. My mom should be leaving the hospital soon. My brother has a couple surgeries left but he’d move in soon after.”

Nanami nods as you finish your sentence. For the first time since you moved in and he appeared in front of you, he turns and leaves the kitchen without you having to say anything. You peek into the rooms to check for him, but he’s nowhere to be found after your first open conversation.

———

You’re shredding some old bills on your couch when you hear light steps behind you. Ever since you told Nanami about your situation, he hadn't been bothering you as much as that first week. He might pop up for a bit but he'd usually disappear and be unseen for most of the day. Nanami rounds the couch and sits beside you, “I have a plan.” You raise an eyebrow at him, “My life was not exactly… normal. Not a lot of people know about what I do — did. I think you can make some money with my stories.”

You put down the letter in your hand and furrow your brows, “What?”

Nanami shifts to face you, “Write my story. We can write it as a thriller or mystery or supernatural piece. We can change the genre depending on the story.” He explains with a proud grin and... you're confused.

You think about what he said for a while, "why do you want me to write your story?"

He shrugs, "It's not that I want my story out there to be remembered or something like that. I just think it would be interesting to write them out. But most importantly, it could help you and your family. And look at me," he points to himself, "dead. It's not like I would need any of that money, it would just be to help you."

"How do you even know that your stories would make money?" you ask more unsure of the plan the more you talk about it.

He lifts a brow playfully, "Oh y/n, you haven't even heard my story yet. You'll be begging me to write it."

The next week and a half was filled with Nanami telling you his story in great detail and the ideas he had on how to write each part of his life. You weren't sure at first but the more he told you about his life, the more intrigued you were. Sorcerers, curses, staying in the shadows yet being in the open without a single soul noticing. You'd sit in bed at the end of the night, writing blurbs and brainstorming with what he told you that day. It wouldn't be easy to try to sell this, you weren't even sure where to start, but it was a nice distraction after those terribly long days at work and heartbreaking hospital visits.

"I don't like that last sentence, it wouldn't keep the reader's attention," Nanami spoke from beside your bed and you jumped up, not expecting the man to be learning against the wall right next to your bed.

You had been getting used to Nanami appearing out of nowhere but it still surprised you when you thought you were finally alone only for him to break that silence... again.

You look up to ask the question that's been plaguing you since starting to listen to his stories, "How am I even supposed to sell this? It is interesting and all, but I don't know anyone and I'm sure publishing companies won't even look my way despite how good your story is."

Nanami keeps his eyes on the screen when he says, "Kiyokata Ijichi. He can help sell this. I'll give you more information so he believes you, but I know he'll help."

You blink rapidly not understanding a word of what he just said but look down again to re-do the last sentence.

———

You met with Kiyokata Ijichi and it did not take much convincing to get him to believe that a sorcerer's spirit was floating around you at home and he wanted you to sell his story. It made the man laugh and he had to remove his glasses to wipe his tears after hearing how Nanami looked. Nanami had told you about the last few hours of his life, how chaotic it had been in Shibuya and the last image others around him must have had. He knew his death was a gruesome one and that it'd be reported and filed for other sorcerers. Ijichi would of course have found out how his colleague —no, close friend, died. The man was content that Nanami wore his suit and still had his glasses...

Ijichi took what you had of the transcript and told you he would find a publishing company. He assured that he would usually not even listen to a proposition like the one you presented him, but he wanted to do anything to help his friend one last time.

You took the opportunity of your meeting to ask questions about Nanami. Ijichi spoke a bit of his adolescence, but spent most of his time complimenting the talented sorcerer for his skill in fighting and caretaking personality despite the stoic appearance. You could tell he admired the man and truly truly missed him. He mentioned he would've have liked to answer one more call from Nanami and help him one last time. This was the call he was waiting for, and he would do everything to make sure this mission given by Nanami Kento was completed.

———

You started to leave a chair at the table out for Nanami to sit when you left the house for work or the hospital. You'd leave sheets and sheets of paper spread on the table and floor so he could move around the house and read the edited stories to give you notes and/or corrections when you got home. You had tried handing him a stack of the new edits before, but they just plopped on the floor. Nanami stared at the stack on the floor and told you he could not lift or touch anything. His brows lightly furrowed and you could see the sadness extending into his eyes. Although he would mist away as a spirit, you would honestly forget that this man was not actually there. To you, he was like another visitor whose company you started to enjoy. You started spreading the paper on other surfaces that day and although Nanami did not tell you anything at that moment, he was grateful that you'd take the time and energy to do it.

———

"Can I ask you something... kind of personal?" You look up from your laptop to glace over to Nanami sitting across from you reading his next story you had edited. He nods and you continue, "how come you never leave the house? You stop at the door when I'm walking out and you've never attempted to walk out with me.."

He puts his elbows on the table and looks straight into your eyes, thinking about how to answer. "After my death in Shibuya, I had very little energy in the afterlife. I was ready to go at that moment, but a part of me wanted to continue — to stay. I had thought about home and how much I would have liked to be home resting, packing for my trip that never happened. I didn't know I was doing it but I attached myself to my house in the process. I can leave, but it takes a lot of energy even as a spirit. If I have very low energy, the door does not lead me out to the street, but it becomes a beacon of light that I suspect would take me to the actual afterlife. I'm not sure I should take that chance right now and head out the door with the possibility of not coming back."

You softly nod at his response, "thank you for telling me. I'm sorry again about Shibuya, but thank you for telling me... and helping me, Nanami."

The man smiles at you and simply replies, "thank you for listening."

———

"Please promise me that you won't show yourself to my family. Please, I don't want her to see anything she shouldn't and go back to the hospital from shock," you tell Nanami as you fix the pillows on the couch, preparing for your mom's homecoming. He assured that only you will see him and that he will not speak around your mother to avoid you accidentally giving an answer out loud and freaking her out. You head out to pick up your mom from her lengthy hospital stay while Nanami looks out the window, awaiting your return.

When you're back inside, Nanami is leaning on the kitchen counter, listening to your mom thank you for everything and compliment the place. You would catch Nanami smiling at you both when you'd glance his way. A deep part of you thought, I wish they could meet. I wish I could tell her about the man standing so close to us, the man who has been keeping me from a complete break.

In the kitchen, Nanami thought, They look so alike, the same eyes, bright smile, beautifully soft hair, calm beating heart... A beating heart. She was alive, she has a tint to her cheeks, she can touch and feel. Alive. Unlike me.

———

Ijichi found several publishing houses that were interested in your stories and a few even offered deals for multiple books and volumes. The books would be published under a pen name, a combination of both yours and Nanami's name that you both contemplated one late night on your bedroom floor, far from your mother's listening ears.

You ran back home to tell Nanami the news, too excited to wait until the end of the work day. Thank the heavens that your mom was at her part time job when you got home, you don't think you'd be able to contain your excitement to your room at a moment like this.

"Nanami!! Nanami, where are you!" You start screaming out for him as soon as you open the door. But.. it's quiet, "Nanami, Ijichi called!! Where are you!" You head for the common space but he's not there either. A quiet alarm starts going off in your head, but you try to push it back. You try to smile and ask again, "Nanami? Hey, where are you? I have news from Ijichi about the book — can you come out?"

Silence. You only heard your footsteps walking into rooms while looking for Nanami. You open the door to the extra room you use as an office sometimes and see Nanami mist into shape in the corner, "Oh! I found you!" Relief immediately spreads in your chest and you smile widely at the man.

Nanami returns a small smile and asks what happened. You excitedly share the news and jump around him while repeating every single detail Ijichi said. Nanami listens with a smile as he leans on the small desk in the room. He tried to keep the smile on his face for you, but his mind wouldn't stop racing. I can't do this to her yet, oh god — no, not yet. I know I should for her sake, but I... can't.

———

Nanami enters your room as you're asleep. Your eyes softly shifting behind your lids, your fingers occasionally twitching and your chest slowly and repeatedly rising and falling. He never considered coming into your room while you were asleep before, but he wanted to tonight. Just tonight. He kneels next to your bed and lifts his hand to your hand. I can't touch her. My fingers go into her hand and I cannot feel her at all. Nanami floats his fingers over yours, pretending his hand is resting on yours as it would if his form was tangible. He imagines what your skin would feel like. What your small, soft hand would feel like to hold in his. I have to try, I have to give her what I can. Nanami floats his hand over your heart, imagining he could feel the soft beating he would focus on listening when you were around. He leans in closer, much closer than ever before, and gently hovers over your your lips. If only I really could. He pretends to land a soft kiss on your lips, something he wishes he could actually do a thousand times.

———

You jump around and cry when a copy of your soon-to-be released book is finally in your hands. The first of a five-book series. Nanami stands next to you and smiles as you show your mom what you had been working on. You leave out the fact that a sorcerer who hovers around the house helped you write it and say it was a fantasy book you've been thinking about for a long time.

Your mom starts crying, proud that you wrote a book and apologetic for potentially taking so much of your time when you were trying to do something for yourself. You're comforting her and telling her you're glad to be able to provide and be with her.

Nanami goes into the office to give you the space and privacy to talk with your mom. He decides it's finally time. Tonight, I'll do it tonight.

Late at night, after a long conversation with your mom, you sit on your bed as Nanami sits on your floor. You're still holding the book, tired from the overwhelming excitement and adrenaline. You had also just gotten news that your brother would be coming home within the next few days. For the first time in a long time, your face hurt from smiling and crying so much the whole day. You lie down and tell Nanami, "I'm so happy Nanami. Thank you for helping me so much," you felt the tears well up again, "you've helped so fucking much." The tears fall but your smile does not falter as you thank him.

Nanami wishes he could wipe your tears, but he stays in his spot next to your bed and says, “Call me Kento, I think we’re close enough for you to call me by my first name now.” Nanami wanted to hear you voice say his name, to see your lips move to every consonant and vowel in the beautiful way he'd imagined.

For some reason, the thought of calling him his first name makes you let out a small giggle. You look at his waiting face, “Thank you Kento. Thank you a thousand times over.”

You both sit there smiling at each other as your tears continue to fall. He comforts you how he can and you both stay awake talking late into the night. And that night, before your exhaustion drifted you to a slumber, you imagined the bed shifting next to you and Nanami laying down beside you. His body warming the other side of your bed, and his arms wrapping around you and embracing you.

Nanami waits for you to sleep as he watches from the same spot on your floor, for your breath to slow down and even out. He gets on his knees and hovers a kiss over your lips and another on your forehead.

That would be the last time you saw Nanami. And you would not remember how he helped you or kept you company.

———

Nanami used all the energy he could to leave the house for the first time since shortly after his death. He had only left the house once before and it drained him enough that he could not even mist his body into appearing. But tonight, he had to leave to go see Ijichi, even if that meant risking not having the energy to appear in front of anyone ever again and not knowing where he'll end up.

Nanami leaves the house, tired, but finally leaves and starts to make his way to Ijichi's apartment. Nanami waited for Ijichi, knowing he would open the door at the crack of dawn to leave for work as early as he always did.

Ijichi opened the door and to say the breath was knocked out of him would not be an understatement. Nanami appeared as a faint and transparent figure in front of Ijichi, compared to the opaque figure he could create with you with the energy of the house. Faint and transparent, Ijichi still cried and thanked the heavens for a chance to see Nanami in his fine attire one more time. Nanami spoke fast, saying he did not know how much time he would have, but asked Ijichi for one last favor.

Nanami asks Ijichi to find someone to erase the memory of him in your mind. He did not want to be remembered by you and wanted you to enjoy your life and new-found success without wondering about the what if's. Nanami saw the way you looked at him lately and it broke his heart every single time. He saw you pondering the possibilities and he knew you both were thinking the same things. Nanami wanted you to live, to enjoy your life without thinking of the 'between' where he would stay.

Ijichi agrees and says he will stay in contact with you with the excuse of being your agent. Nanami agrees and stands by his friend's entryway as Ijichi calls someone and they all rush back to the house before you wake. Nanami tells Ijichi how to get in and he quietly stands with Ijichi in the corner of the room as the woman Ijichi called rests her hand on your forehead, altering your memories and giving you peace.

———

Many, many years later…

Your brother and his grandson have just left your house. You sent your nurse home early and now you sit in bed with the photo album your grandnephew made for you and a mug of your favorite tea. Your hand hurts if you hold the tea for too long but you enjoy the warmth of the mug on your stiff hands. You finish looking over the photo album and put it down next to you and shift down your bed to sleep while you think about the precious photos your grandnephew thought to give you. You turn off your lamp and feel yourself drift off to the happy thoughts of your brother and his beautiful family.

You wake up and the sun is barely starting to shine through your window. You move to sit up and it’s… easier. Your back does not hurt, and you were able to sit up much faster than you have in years.

“y/n.”

The familiarity in the voice stops you mid-stretch. You slightly turn and see a man. But... not just any man…. Nanami?

It’s overwhelming. Your eyes are scanning his figure as the memories flood in, the arguing and bickering, the planning, the writing, the laughter, the tears… all of your memories. He’s standing on the other side of the bed and smiles. It’s the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from anyone, especially from him from what you can recall. His eyes no longer hold the sadness from before, it’s – it’s relief?

“I wanted to be the first one you saw after…” he pauses and looks behind you on the bed, “it was peaceful, painless, wasn’t it?”

You follow his gaze and look directly behind you to where he’s looking. And there you are. You’re laying still and it looks like you’re asleep. You scramble away from your figure and stand up in a semi-panic.

Nanami walks around the bed as you keep staring at yourself, dumbfounded, and reaches for you, and touches you. Actually touches you. You flinch at the contact at first but lean into it immediately. It was almost as if your body was waiting for his touch, yearning for it and not being able to relax until the contact finally happened. This was the first time you felt him. His fingers lightly grazed your forearm and slid down to your hand, half intertwining your fingers.

You look away from your body on the bed and look at Nanami. He has stepped closer and is looking at every detail on your face. You look down at your hands and notice they are no longer wrinkled and covered in sunspots. These hands were the hands that typed for hours on end, the hands that covered the floor with sheets of paper, the hands that reached for Nanami's back as he walked away… the hands from when you were young.

“You’re beautiful.” Nanami moves a few strands of loose hair and leaves his hand on your cheek.

“Why did you leave? What happened to you?” You tilt your body to face him, moving closer and snuggling your face into his hand, savoring the feeling of his large hand on your cheek.

“I never left you alone. I was still here, I just didn’t want you to see me,” Nanami sighs. “You needed to live your life, I wanted you to live your life.” He pauses before asking, “do you regret it?”

You step closer to him, your bodies only inches apart, “What?”

“Writing my story, the memories of it all.”

You shake your head. You lived your life after the book, Nanami made sure that you were set before taking a step back and watching from afar, from behind. You could never regret writing his story. After all, it was his house and his story that brought you two together.

Nanami asks another question as he strokes small circles on your cheek with his thumb, “Darling, why didn't you leave — get married?”

Why didn’t you? You think for a moment before answering, “I – I was too attached to this place, I think. I couldn’t leave this house and the thought of it was too sad, I would shut down those conversations immediately when my family would bring it up. I thought maybe it was the memories I had in this place with my family... but I think it was you. Subconsciously, I think I knew it was you I didn't want to leave behind. I never felt like getting married either, I was living well by myself, and I did well.”

He moves both hands to your face, staring into your eyes and rememorizing the mesmerizing color that he missed staring into. The feeling of his fingers finally being able to touch you is almost too overwhelming, “I’m sorry... and thank you. For living so well… and for so long.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and finally, after decades since the first time you thought about it, kiss him. Your first kiss, his soft and supple lips covering yours as he lowers his arms and pulls you in closer. It is slow, so painfully but beautifully slow. You had both fantasized about this moment, the moment to finally feel each other so closely. Nanami pulls away from your lips but drags his lips around your face, kissing random spots over and over again.

You slightly pull away from him and ask, “was I an ugly old woman?”

Nanami laughs at your bizarre question during such an intimate moment. He pulls away as well to drag his eyes to look every detail of your face again, touching your hair and leaning his lips back over your forehead, “No, you were the cutest woman I’ve ever seen.” He leans away again but some of the sadness from before flashes in his eyes, “I just wish I met you during my life... and aged with you to touch your wrinkled hands and run my fingers over your smile lines and grey hair.”

You smile at him to relieve his sadness and move to hold his face, “You can hold me now whenever you'd like. And I can hold you, touch you, whenever I’d like.”

Nanami returns your smile and holds your hands to slowly pull you out of the room. He starts to slowly look around the house and you understand why. You’re leaving – the both of you. This would be the last time you’d be in this house… because you were leaving with Nanami. You follow his lead and look around the house one last time. The kitchen you’d brainstorm in, the living room floor and couch you'd congregate to for the next chapter, the office you’d sneak off to so your mother could not hear you, the bathroom you’d argue in with Nanami when he didn’t agree on a few sentences from a chapter. There were so many memories, with and without Nanami, you lived a long, eventful, and ultimately joyous life.

You both end up back in your room where Nanami looks over your aged body on the bed then the pictures on your nightstand and bookshelf. A full life. A happy ending to a devastating start. He feels your hand on his back, and he turns. The stark contrast to your aged body, the young woman who stood up to him after trying to stab him with a pair of scissors... and trusted him.

You both hear the door pad slide open and the clicking of the buttons. You hold out your hand to Nanami and he happily accepts the hand he'd been yearning to touch. You both walk out of your room and pass by the unknowing nurse walking to your room and hear a gasp followed by quiet prayers. You and Nanami stood to the side as the funeral home came for your body. The respect they showed and the grief of the nurse you loved told you you had done enough, and you were ready to go.

Nanami squeezes your hand a bit and nods towards the main door. You nod to him, and you both start to make your way to the door, saying quiet goodbyes to your favorite parts of your house. Nanami’s house, your house.

“Thank you Kento, for letting me live such a life. And for waiting for me.”

His wide smile returns to his face, “I’ve been waiting decades to hear you say my name again. It’s all I’ve wanted.”

You're both smiling with heads held high amongst the humans who all have somber expressions and their heads down. You pass the foyer and look back one last time. Nanami is not alone, and neither are you. You'd both be together in the next step, happy to finally experience something together in the same form. He softly kisses you again before stepping closer out the door. Hands tightly held together, bodies side-by-side, you both step into the bright white light.

the end

a/n: The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is one of my favorite movies ever. black and white movies fill a very special place in my heart so please please try watching them if you haven't yet!

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sixosix · 10 months

Text

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness.

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

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natimiles · 4 months

Note

Natiii hiii

If your requests are open, is it alright if I request a part 2 of the platonic sibling headcanons for your favourite Ikevamp boys? Where they find out that reader, their precious beloved little sibling, is actually in love with/dating Dazai. I think it would be hilarious xD

Take your time, and remember to put your own health first! ❤

Hi hoooo, Silveeeer! (if you don’t get it, you don’t get it; and it means I’m really old)

Platonic relationships are so cute! Half of them would die if the reader dated anyone, to be honest, HAISUEHSAUIEHSAUIEA. But oooohhh, it was fun to imagine my dearest Isaac! 🤍

I'm sorry it took so long and I hope you liked it! 🤍

gn!reader with a sibling-like relationship with them starts to date Dazai | Isaac, Mozart, Jean, Arthur, Theo and Vincent, and Napoleon

Tags: minor spoilers for Dazai’s route; platonic relationships; sibling-like bond; teeny-tiny suggestive parts for Mozart, Jean, and Theo and Vincent (but still sfw, don’t worry!)

Notes: kind of a part 2 of this post, where gn!reader has a sibling-like relationship with them.

Isaac

“I’m dating Dazai.” — Do you hate him? He feels like you do now.

He was never overprotective or one to pry into your business, but he felt like he should tell you something about it. You are his dearest younger sibling, after all.

He won’t try to separate you not exactly. He just wants to make sure you’re okay — stop glaring at him!

He will ask for Napoleon’s help to have a talk with Dazai. Napoleon is there just giving moral support because he has nothing against the writer. Isaac is in such distress after this talk, he probably got some gray hair. Dazai teased him, and Napoleon didn’t help.

He will tell you about this and every other time Dazai teased him or pulled some kind of prank on him. Might he remind you it was Dazai who gave him wine and said it was juice at the last banquet?

He can finally have a proper talk with Dazai — without being embarrassed or teased — a few weeks later. He can see now that Dazai really cares for you, and his teasing has lessened (but didn’t stop; it never stops).

Just remember your brother is a contrarian, okay? He’ll complain and grimace when he sees you two kissing, but he’ll help you out if Dazai ever tries to avoid you again. He really hopes you two stay together forever; he wants to see you happy.

Now stop bringing him apples every day with the excuse that you’re taking care of your family, Dazai!

No, Dazai, he doesn’t need someone too! Stop trying to set him up with random people!

Mozart

“Dazai asked me out and I said yes.” — “Pfff, no, you didn’t.”

And it’s not because it’s Dazai. It’s because you’re dating. That’s it.

Overprotective brother activated successfully. Every breath you take, every step you take, he’ll be watching you.

Seriously, he’s watching you two like a hawk. You thought Theo had brother issues? Pff! He won’t leave you alone. Or he’ll try to not leave you alone, but Dazai is too cunning and he always finds a way to evade Mozart and take you with him. Your brother might be fuming by now.

He doesn’t even try to talk with Dazai; he just knows he’s not worthy of you. No one is.

You end up having ‘the talk’ with Mozart. Does he remember when he was having a composer’s block, and Dazai helped? That’s how you start your list of “why Dazai is the safest vampire you could date”. You end the list playfully asking if he’d prefer if you dated any of the other writers, like Arthur, and you swear his eyes twitch with only the thought of it.

He tries to keep his pettiness in check for you. Keyword: try. Spoiler alert: he’s not good at it.

He never sees bite marks on your neck, so he thinks everything is okay and still… decent. He freaks out when Arthur points out that Dazai might be biting you on other parts of your body that don’t show when you’re fully dressed. You want to kill Arthur, while Dazai is just giving that closed-eyes smile of his.

Congrats, overprotective brother is back again at full force.

Jean

“I’m dating Dazai.” — “Alright.”

Chill brother ftw!

Sweet, clueless, and innocent brother doesn’t see anything wrong with your relationship.

He’ll just make sure this is what you want and that you’re really happy. He doesn’t need much assurance. He trusts you, and he knows you never lie to him.

He doesn’t have a problem with Dazai, so why should he be worried?

However, he will miss spending more time with you in the beginning of your relationship. So Dazai makes sure to include him in your plans sometimes. He might even help you teach Jean how to write and read. (This is too wholesome to imagine)

Jean doesn’t even know what ‘the talk’ is. The roles are reversed: Dazai ends up having it with him, and you’re freaking out. It ends well though; it seems your new boyfriend didn’t say anything weird. This time.

His only problem might be if he sees you two leaving the same room in the morning. He won’t think much of it until Arthur makes some comment about it. And now Jean thinks you two need to get married. Congrats and thank you, Arthur.

Arthur

“Dazai asked me to date him.” — “Oh, hell no!” — “Oh, hell yes!”

Anyone but him! Seriously! If you don’t want any of the other residents, he can introduce you to someone! He has some acquaintances downtown... That’s when you hit his arm and glare at him. Okay, message received.

He won’t have ‘the talk’ with Dazai, he can’t stand the idea of having this conversation with Dazai.

Again, are you sure you don’t want someone else? If you want a writer, even Shakespeare could be acceptable… You hit him again. Fine! Shakespeare wasn’t acceptable either anyway; he was just desperate.

Dazai doesn’t tease Arthur, so your brother will bring up the times Dazai teased you, like that time you two got stuck downtown because of the rain.

And you bring up the times Dazai helped you, or when he tried to cheer you up. You even list all the times he tried to help him, and Arthur was rude to him.

Touché.

Canonly, he wants to see you breaking Dazai’s masks. So he might accept your relationship just so he can see it and finally be able to read him. Spoiler alert: he still can’t read Dazai, and it drives the sore loser him crazy sometimes.

But you can, so he has to shut his mouth and support you. He’ll be happy for you, eventually.

Theo and Vincent

“I’m dating Dazai.” — “You’ve got the worst taste in men.” — “Oh, congrats! Can we all have lunch together sometime?”

Guess who said what.

Vincent is really happy for you! He already knows Dazai, so he doesn’t need to make sure he is a nice person for you.

Theo is not happy for the exact same reason: he knows Dazai.

He protects you like he protects Vincent and sometimes even more because you are younger. Did you know Dazai goes to the casino? What else does he do downtown? Do you know? Do you seriously trust him?

You have to throw back at Theo that he goes to the pub with Arthur all the time. What does he do there? Why does he only come back in the morning? … Okay, he got it.

Theo promises that he’ll try to contain his brother issues if you’re too upset with him. He doesn’t promise he’ll succeed. Vincent is gladly there to scold him every time.

Vincent will ask if two can pose together for a new painting, while Theo will glare and curse a lot. It’s a lovely painting that you hang in your bedroom.

They’ll both be mad if you shed a single tear because of the writer. Dazai better run, and he better run fast because an angry Vincent is even worse than an angry Theo.

“Sleeping with Dazai is one step removed from sleeping with Arthur.” (he actually says it in Dazai’s route) WAIT. You haven’t slept together yet, have you? HAVE YOU? Vincent had to drag him out of the dining room because Dazai gave that signature smile of his and said, “Oh my, I can’t remember.”

(Imagine Theo lashing out, and Vincent just goes, “Calm down, they just slept together! What’s wrong with sleeping?”)

Theo will try to find a way to have ‘the talk’ with Dazai without you and Vincent knowing. It’ll turn out surprisingly fine, and he starts to trust Dazai a little more. A little.

Arthur is talking about the bite marks not being visible when you’re fully dressed again, just so he can see his best friend losing his mind. Vincent doesn’t understand what’s the problem; he thinks it’s in your arms or some innocent place. God bless this angel.

Theo is back at glaring and cursing.

Napoleon

“Dazai asked me out.” — “Alright, have fun.”

Chill brother ftw! #2

He knows Dazai and he has nothing against him.

He trusts you and your decisions, so he won’t pry or be an overprotective brother mode.

He taught you self-defense and he knows you’ll come to him if you need something anyway.

He will talk to Dazai, but it won’t be exactly ‘the talk’. He just wants to make sure he’s not just killing time with you, even though that’s not something he believes the writer would do… But he’s gotta make sure. It was nice, like friends chatting to catch up on their lives, y’know?

If Dazai runs away from you like he does on his route before you start dating, he will not be pleased. But he will try to help you out, if you ask.

If a single tear is seen in your eyes, you bet he throws the chill-brother-state-of-mind out of the highest window of the mansion along with Dazai.

Seriously, he won’t freak out about your relationship, and he won’t do anything unless you ask him to. He really just wants you to be happy.

He’ll try to read Dazai’s books. Gotta support family.

(Can we imagine him ruffling your hair and then ruffling Dazai’s hair? Okay, sorry…)

Masterlists

#💌 silver #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp request #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp jean #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp x reader #ikevamp hcs #ikevamp headcanons #ask me #ikevamp gn!reader #ikevamp dazai x reader #if you squint your eyes

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mitsuyaya · 11 months

Text

[ 𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ] itadori yuuji, itoshi rin & hayakawa aki

⁠∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° contains: MDNI, characters are all aged up (18+), angst, fluff, smut, lowercase intended, most of ‘em are short and unedited, refer to individual fics for additional warnings. ⁠

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° end note: ⁠enjoy ^^ (some of em are written while I'm having a breakdown during my finals haha.) block or filter the tag [🍫. triple treat] if you don't want to see this series.

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° schedule: from june 6-24, 9:30 PM (GMT+8)⁠

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° status: complete | incomplete

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 (opm edition)

Denouement - Itoshi Rin

‎contains: 717 words. angst, breakup summary: it's foolish to think that everything could last because everything has an end, just like your relationship with rin. to be posted on: june 6

Even in the next life - Hayakawa Aki

‎contains: 561 words. heavy (?) angst, major character death, major spoilers (for anime watchers) summary: you love aki more than anything in this world; he taught you the beauty of waking up every day, but he didn't teach you how to wake up every single day without him. to be posted on: june 13

Just a friend - Itadori Yuuji

contains: 520 words. angst, unrequited love summary: itadori is your best friend and as a friend you should've known better not to fall in love with him. to be posted on: june 20

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

Gitchee Gitchee Goo - Itoshi Rin

‎‎contains: 401 words. fluff, just rin being stupidly cute. summary: rin finds it hard to say I love you, so he says nonsense instead. to be posted on: june 8

Cigarettes - Hayakawa Aki

‎contains: 529 words. fluff, smoking. summary: you wanted to know why aki loves smoking too much, so you asked him to give you one. to be posted on: june 15

Smitten - Itadori Yuuji

‎contains: 424 words. nothing but pure fluff and yuuji being the best bf summary: you're just as obsessed with your boyfriend as he is to you. to be posted on: june 22

𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

Panacea for the Insomniacs - Itoshi Rin

‎contains: 1k+ words. MDNI, smut, characters are aged up (18+), afab reader, teensy fluff, oral (f! receiving), use of pet names (angel, good girl), kissing summary: you have trouble sleeping and rin just knows what to do to help you fall asleep. to be posted on: june 10

The Most Jealous Man I Know - Hayakawa Aki

‎contains: 1k+ words. MDNI, smut, jealous aki, pwp, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, kissing/making out, brief fingering, slight degradation (slut), pet names (angel, baby) summary: you never thought that aki is capable of being jealous until tonight that is. to be posted on: june 17

Pretty Boy - Itadori Yuuji

‎contains: 613 words. MDNI, afab reader, smut, oral (m! receiving), face fucking/riding, hair pulling (kinda), cum swallowing, pet names (baby, princess) summary: yuuji is the most prettiest boy you've ever seen, even moreso, when he's riding your face. to be posted on: june 24

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dottores · 4 months

Text

okay well, i logged back in, obviously, because there are clearly some things that need to be addressed and have been taken out of context. just because i’m leaving doesn’t mean i should sit here and let my name be smeared.

to preface this, anantaru and i had a discussion where we came to a congenial understanding of what happened, there's been an acknowledgment on both sides of misunderstanding and believing distorted rumors and people that we probably should not have, but i’m still going to give a full explanation as to the background of everything so you all can understand and come to your own opinions. plus, if there's going to be a call-out post directed majorly at me made, i want an official address of it.

please do NOT send any hate their way, we have ended this discussion on good terms and have worked out what exactly was stirring this discourse between us. (spoiler alert: there was a third-party shit-stirrer that we both considered a decent friend at the time!)

i don’t really need a reason to block someone, and i shouldn’t have to explain it, but i did and i will again but more explicitly this time: @/anantaru made a post that i did not like. it’s as simple as that. it was a post about genshin characters and sex icks and one of the lines were “venti: too drunk.” i’m not anti-dc, but there are topics that i am sensitive about because i was sa’d in my freshman year of college—that is something i have talked about on this blog before, many of you who've been around since my tr era are aware of it. i acknowledged, and tee acknowledged, that this was probably a joke and was not meant to be taken the way i took it, but the aloof/casual way it was mentioned without any TW of implied dubcon, and without acknowledging that it was at least dubcon and could border on noncon in certain interpretations made me uncomfortable. i don’t mind seeing it as long as i’m warned. if it was tagged properly, i would have moved on without much care, but it wasn’t, so i was scrolling through the post snorting and was hit with that and i was made uncomfortable because i didn't like how it was just being passed off as an ick, and i blocked. there was no reason for it to go beyond what it did, yet we are here. anantaru mentioned that if you frequent their blog, you would know that they often write about venti and reader being drunk—i don’t frequent their blog, in fact this was my first encounter with them being reblogged onto my dash by shared mutuals, so it rubbed me wrong. thats the end of it.

i’m not sure the exact timing, but i believe it was two(?) weeks after this, when i reblogged an unpopular opinion’s post with an opinion that i thought was fairly harmless. sure, looking back on it i could have phrased it better, i’m not going to deny that, but pinpointing my one opinion out of the hundreds of others that were objectively far more controversial than mine and crucifying me for it is uncalled for. you guys know very well that i do not have the time or energy to sift through random people’s blogs to look for minors. every once in a while i glance at the notes of shit posts that happen to be on my dash and i’d be a bit startled at finding a minor in them because i still do think you should at least try to catch minors who interact with shit posts because that’s the easiest way to find them. but i was working at a medium sized firm for a year and a half at the time of the post and i am currently in law school, i do not have the time to be psychotic about people’s likes and interaction, and even if i did have the time?? i’ve always gotten incredible interaction from y’all lmfao, imposing the idea that i’m jealous is entirely inane. i do still stand by the fact that my words were twisted, i was made out, more than once and by more than one person after the next bullet point's events, to have been some psycho that stalks peoples’ posts for excuses as to why they get interaction when that is simply not the case.

regardless, after this incident, anantaru made a vague post that was almost directly quoting my tags from the reblog and was thus sent to me because many shared mutuals put together that it was about my tags. this was upsetting for multiple reasons 1) i had blocked anantaru by this point so i felt a bit violated that i was being vagued for something by someone that i blocked. 2) i started getting hate anons en masse after it, some of which were very unnecessarily explicit. needless to say, i was very upset and made a subpost on my main account after noticing i’ve been blocked on ao3 because 1) i was already upset and i didn’t even know why anantaru seemed to have it out for me much less go to the point of blocking on ao3 which leads into my next point and 2) i thought it was a bit ridiculous because the only thing blocking on ao3 stops is people from commenting on posts and i clearly was not going to comment on a post of someone who i was not on good terms with. reasoning aside, anantaru can block who they want and i was out of line for making comments about that in particular. i’ll admit that, and apologize for it.

a screenshot was taken from my personal—not a good moment for me, obviously, but anantaru claimed in their post that it was about them with no evidence. i dmed them about this in particular because i was genuinely confused, we spoke about it, i offered them proof that it was not them because i had a discussion about this post with a close friend at the time of posting it and they believed me. i will attach screenshots below (cropped because there's no reason to attach the whole conversation) because i feel as if this accusation was rather extreme and i wish it would’ve been removed because it was obviously not my best moment. an explanation for the post itself, i was upset over plagiarism accusations regarding something i put my heart and soul into and then seeing the same person that made them consistently on my dash just straight up triggered me, for lack of a better word lol, so i made a vent on my personal. how it got misconstrued as to be anything about anantaru is baffling to me but i suppose that's a question for the subject of our next bullet point. i don’t want to go into detail about the accusations in themselves because i don’t want people to send the actual person who it’s about hate. regardless, that post was not about anantaru, i have never called them a cunt nor have i ever called them a gatekeepy cunt, though i’m beginning to think i should probably remove the word from my vocabulary atp, i use it far too flippantly. anyway, i do not know them well enough to formulate any sort of opinion like that. aside from that, in our discussion we came to an understanding over it and i wish that would have been cleared on their blog as wel. so i'll attach here (i crossed some out because i don't want to breach any boundaries regarding what anantaru might be comfortable sharing but i do think it's fair for me to want this particular point fully cleared as it was a bold accusation remaining up):

5. in our discussion, we came to realize that we have/had a shared mutual who was fostering discourse between the two of us. many of you will recognize her as audri aka alucrds, who has supposedly left tumblr by this point—i suspected this and anantaru has confirmed it while we were talking. audri was sending anantaru my posts claiming that they were about anantaru, but i will stress that the only actual discussions i ever had with anyone about anantaru was with tee and eris about that initial joke because it had upset me at the time, it never extended beyond that and it certainly was never with audri. my only conversation with audri that mentioned anantaru at all was probably around a week or so after i made the post in point 3, when audri asked me about ao3 blocking in casual conversation and i offhandedly mentioned that anantaru had blocked me on there—audri was a close friend at that point and iirc, she had actually told me right after that that anantaru had her blocked on tumblr, i had no idea that they'd been mutuals at all but either way, it was an offhanded comment that led to nowhere (or so i thought LOL). looking back on it, it was clearly her baiting me into giving her information about the post i made a week or so prior because after talking with anantaru, they explained that they got an anonymous message claiming that i was shit talking them for blocking them on ao3 and the only person that could have put together that the vent post from point 3 was about anantaru was audri herself. audri continued to evidently cherry-pick random vent posts of mine to show anantaru and claim that they were about them. why? i wish i could tell you. i considered audri a decent enough friend, and though she had her fair share of issues with mutuals and other friends of mine, i never really thought she’d stoop to this with me. but i guess there’s really no explaining people who thrive in discourse.

6. my comment in my most recent post about being harassed on ao3 and in comments and in asks was not about them at all. i thought it was very clearly about heliotropes (my dottore series) and pressure to update from certain readers, but i'm clarifying that now.

7. i never intended on directly addressing this, which is why i did not directly name anantaru in my post, if i’d known at the time that tee was going to end up addressing all of this, i would’ve just been straight up with all of it.

anyway, i think that’s all, hopefully this will be the last post for real as i am tired mentally and now i am also physically sleep deprived. i've been up since three so forgive me for typos and grammar errors. this all has gone on for over a year. sorry for all the discourse on y'all's dash, wish i could have left with a bit more grace than this. rumors have been blown out of proportions and blindly believed, things have been taken out of context, such is life. i made my fair share of mistakes on my personal blog with my vents, others have admitted and owned up to their own mistakes, some will never admit to their mistakes. such is life. it moves on, always does. i know all of y'all are smart enough to come to your own opinions.

over and out, sorry again, and logged out (hopefully for real this time),

cat

#tw discourse

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buffyfan145 · 5 months

Text

Major Spoiler Warning!!!

Now with the spoilers confirming we're getting multiple versions of Sauron in season 2 of "Rings of Power" and the actor's name, I think we Haladriel shippers need to figure out what to call the new pairing as I'm sure some of us will ship Galadriel with Gavi's version of Sauron too and there will be others within the shippers that don't because it's not Halbrand (even though it is LOL). Reminds me a lot of "Doctor Who" and other fandoms where this happens. To me Haladriel is only with Charlie's Halbrand version of Sauron, Saurondriel is with every form of Sauron (but I also don't like using this as I know Sauron himself hated that name which is why lately I just refer to him as Halbrand or Mairon LOL), and then Martanis is Mairon and Galadriel/Artanis but it's highly unlikely the show can use that name even though Gavi's version is supposed to be this version. I've also written Mairon in all my fics looking like Charlie/Halbrand too so that's going to be confusing in the future. It's also likely Gavi's Sauron is also the Annatar version (Annadriel?), as they're doing a version of that storyline, but again we don't know if they can use that name and it could be a brand new name. So things are going to get complicated (and even more if there's more actors and animal forms LOL) and I guess we'll likely use different ship tags for each form and then use Saurondriel for a tag for all of them. But I've also already seen posts shipping Galadriel with both versions at the same time too. LOL 😏

ETA: Also want to point out that when I mean about Saurondriel I'm also talking about other formats the LOTR has been adapted to as well, as this to me also covers the book versions as well as Cate Blanchett and Benedict Cumberbatch's versions from the films too (as I've actually seen fanart and fics now with their versions).

ETA 2: Adding on again that I also meant this post for myself incase I and others need to block the ship tag for this other version. I don't know how I'll feel about this till it airs and I'm open to shipping Galadriel with all of Sauron's forms but in case I don't I want to block the ship and not the actor's name as that's not fair to him.

#the lord of the rings #the rings of power #haladriel #saurondriel #galadriel x sauron #martanis #galadriel #halbrand #sauron #mairon #annatar #spoilers #galadriel x halbrand #artanis

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starlingflight · 2 months

Note

i saw that tag!

BEFORE!

Okay... twist my arm, why don't you...

Deleted scene from Someone Else's Life below the cut. Picks up where chapter 14 left off(ish). Spoilers, obviously.

Ask game details here if anyone wants to send me more!

Harry collapsed against the pillows, angling just enough to give Ginny room to breath. A consideration that was more than fair, given the things she’d just done had made doing so a challenge for him.

For a precious moment their bedroom was still; filled with the sound of their mingled breaths. Harry tilted his head, eyes turning to Ginny, drinking in the image of her; eyes half closed, lips parted, chest heaving with the effort of regaining her breath. Absolutely, unequivocally alive.

Slowly, the red flush creeping down her neck began to recede and the galaxy of freckles that mapped her skin were fully visible once more. She looked at him from beneath her eyelashes; one side of her lips curved into a lazy smile. “Is my apology accepted?”

Usually, some witty retort would be waiting, poised, on the tip of his tongue to return to her, but the image of her, stiff and lifeless on the floor of St. Mungo’s was still stubbornly stuck in his mind, waiting to surface every time he took his eyes off her for more than a second. His fingers traced the line of freckles that dusted her collarbone, needing to feel the warmth of her skin. “Please don’t ever do that again.”

Ginny rolled onto her side, shuffling across the mattress until they were sharing his pillow; the tip of her nose was barely an inch from his. “The circumstances were slightly out of my control.”

A stray lock of hair spilled over her cheek. Harry pushed it back, watching the way her eyes closed at his touch. “It was the worst moment of my life.”

Ginny tried to smile again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Technically, it wasn’t real.”

“It felt real.” His hand slid to Ginny’s waist, pulling her flush against him, banishing the memories that threatened to overwhelm him with the feel of her; whole, alive and unharmed in his arms. “It felt like an eternity – it took me forever to get to Owen’s office to get the nightshade. The stupid curse made me so slow.”

“What are you talking about?” Ginny frowned, crossing her arms over Harry’s chest and pushing herself up so she was half-laid across him. Her hair fell down around her face, enveloping them both in the floral fragrance of her shampoo, and blocking out everything but her. “I left you a bottle of Nightshade in my jacket pocket.”

“You what?”

“I left you a bottle of Nightshade in my jacket pocket,” she repeated. Her voice was calm, but her eyes shone with emotions too big for words. “I knew you’d follow me… Once I was gone, I knew you wouldn’t want to wait for the curse, so I left you some Nightshade.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Harry’s fingers dug into her hips, clinging to her. His head was spinning from the revelation that he could have spared himself some of the interminable minutes he’d lived through thinking she was dead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I put your wand in that pocket when I disarmed you,” Ginny said, voice soft in the quiet bedroom. “I assumed you’d find the bottle when you took it back.” -

“My wand?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Gin, I didn’t take my wand back.”

Her head tilted questioningly; eyebrows slanting together as her hair brushed gently against his shoulder. “You take your wand everywhere with you.”

“You were dead.” Harry’s tongue protested even speaking the words into existence, but he forced them out. His heart pounded erratically, despite how obviously untrue they were. “I didn’t care about my wand. I wasn’t – I don’t –”

Ginny’s fingertips stroked gently across his cheek. “It’s fine,” she murmured softly. “I’m fine.” Her head lowered, her lips brushing tenderly against his once, twice, over and over until Harry’s heart slowed and his arms relaxed around her. She pulled away, her forehead coming to rest against his. “I’m willing to admit there was a tiny flaw in my plan,”

Somehow, Harry managed a tiny huff that vaguely resembled a laugh. “That’s generous of you.”

Ginny’s smile was only more radiant for the memory of how sure he’d been that he’d never see it again. “I thought so.”

#hinny #harry x ginny #SEL #SEL is technically before IAL so this is answering the ask actually #pls don't question me

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its-jaytothemee · 2 months

Text

Stolen Futures

Pairings: Gale x Tav

Word count: 2,533, one shot

Rating: General Audience

Read on AO3

Summary: Gale and Tav journey to Waterdeep to start their new life together, only to be interrupted by a devastating realization.

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Gale's Netherese Orb, Act 3 spoilers

Author's Note: Here's a sad fic that nobody asked for! Just a quick one shot to pour my depression into. Sorry in advance...

Tav opened her eyes to see the magnificent sight of Waterdeep filling the horizon as Gale led her onwards toward her new home. She had never visited the City of Splendors before, which Gale took as a challenge to recite every major detail of during their long journey here. How he was able to talk for days on end without losing his voice was as much a mystery to her as this new city. Tav didn’t mind though, listening to him chat ceaselessly about his home filled her with anticipation for their new life together. The sound of his voice was soothing, he was eager to share his home with her so how could she fault him for sharing every detail of what she could expect?

“…and oh, how could I forget. There’s a small tavern just down the block from my tower that boasts the best roast quipper fish in the city but don’t let that fool you. While it is quite delicious, the honor of the best still goes to my mother.”

Gale had been talking about his mother much more often in their last few days of travel. From the way he spoke, Tav guessed Morena Dekarios must be a goddess in mortal form. She scooted closer to him in the cart and squeezed his arm that she had looped through her own.

“Do you think she’ll like me?” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Of course! I inherited my judge of character from her after all. Besides, you’ve managed to win over Tara already and she’s much pickier about my choice in company than my mother ever was.” Gale gave her a reassuring kiss on her forehead. Tav smiled softly, listening as the sounds coming from the city gates grew louder every moment.

They passed through the gates with ease, slowly making their way through the bustling streets. After their travels in the past weeks, it was a surreal experience to be in a city that was so intact. While Waterdeep was of course the victim of many kidnappings in the name of the Absolute, the majority of the fighting was restricted to the areas surrounding Baldur’s Gate. The buildings here remained standing and unscorched. Children ran through the streets, laughing and chasing one another without a care in the world. Tav marveled at the vendors calling out their wares, she inhaled deeply taking in the new scents wafting from the various carts and taverns they passed.

“Ah, we’re getting close, my love. Just a few more blocks.” Gale’s smile was plastered to his face. Tav kept herself pressed close to his side, his enthusiasm easily spreading to her as well.

The smell of the harbor was familiar and stronger than she would have thought from their distance, it was almost identical to the smells of the Chionthar outside of Baldur’s Gate. They rode in comfortable silence the rest of the way, Gale practically shaking with excitement. Their small cart slowed to a stop outside of a long stretch of homes. She smiled as Gale hopped off the cart and moved around to help her down. He offered his hand up to her with a slight bow, causing her to giggle. She slung her small pack of personal belongings over her shoulder and stepped down onto the rough stone street.

Gale ushered her towards the door to his tower…their tower. He opened the door and gestured for her to walk in ahead of him. She took a step towards the door when she was suddenly swept off her feet into Gale’s arms, the startling motion elicited a small yelp from her.

“Allow me.” He whispered, his nose just barely touching her own. Tav wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a laugh, content to be carried across the threshold of her new home.

Gale gently carried her through the doorway before setting her down next to the first of several impressive bookshelves. It was dark except for the small stream of light peeking through the curtains that opened to the balcony. He made his way across the room to open the doors behind them and bathe her surroundings in the bright afternoon light. The room before her was exactly as she remembered it from the illusion Gale had conjured for her their first night together. Books, tomes, and scrolls adorned the shelves that covered every bit of the walls. The few pieces of the room that weren’t covered by a bookcase had paintings hanging from them. Despite the fact that each wall was taken up completely by shelves and cubbies, small stacks of books were also decorating every corner of the room and next to each chair as well. Tav smiled fondly at the sight, she knew that Gale was well-read, but she hadn’t quite expected to be living in a full library. She turned around and around, slowly taking everything in. The old, but still beautiful, rosewood desk in the corner had a few scrolls littered across its surface along with quills and an empty wine glass. She ran her fingers across the wood, leaving long marks in the dust that had settled across the items. The fireplace was dark and covered in soot, it had obviously been well used. A piano sat in the corner sporting the same thin layer of dust as the other belongings scattered around the room.

“What do you think?” Gale had appeared at her side once again, gently taking her hands in his before continuing.

“It’s not much, but I suppose it is better than the mud we’ve been sleeping in for the last month or so. This has been my place of solace for so long, even when I had confined myself here, I never truly felt trapped. But now, I can hardly believe that I have someone to share it with.” He was smiling at her, but he seemed nervous all of a sudden. Gale had always spoken wistfully about his tower, obviously missing its comforts. Now, he appeared to be worried that she wouldn’t share his love of his home. Tav smiled back at him and pulled him into a kiss.

“It’s perfect, Gale.” She whispered.

Her words caused him to relax, relieved to see that she wasn’t disappointed. He immediately started pulling her around the tower, excitedly showing off everything in sight. Pointing out his favorite collections of novels and explaining why it was better for the mind to read said novels by the light of a crackling fire. They moved out of the entrance into the kitchen, grimacing at some of the smells coming from the baskets that hadn’t been touched since Gale was abducted. He quickly ushered her out, promising to clean out the spoiled food first thing in the morning. Their tour continued down into his small cellar, still stocked with a lavish variety of wines that had originated anywhere from Cormyr to Neverwinter. He took her back upstairs showing her the small bedroom. The bed was covered with an absurd amount of pillows. Tav couldn’t help herself and immediately ran and flopped into the soft pile, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched anything this soft? Gods I’ve missed pillows.” She laughed as Gale came over and collapsed right next to her, burying his face into her neck and hair. They stayed snuggled into the nest of pillows for a few minutes before he stood up and pulled her back to her feet.

“Come on, I haven’t gotten to show you my favorite spot yet.” He kissed her hand lightly as he led her from the room.

Tav felt like she was floating, watching Gale bounce around her like an excited puppy eager to show her his favorite toys filled her with a joy that she hadn’t known in so long. So why was she suddenly feeling so troubled? She had an aching feeling in her chest, and she noticed that she had tears streaking down her cheeks. Gale led her to the balcony, but hesitated when he turned around and saw her tears.

“What is it? Is everything alright, Tav?” His gleeful expression immediately twisted into one of concern.

“I…” She stuttered, she wasn’t sure why she was crying. She was happy, happy to be here with Gale, happy to start a new chapter of her life blessedly free of a mind flayer tadpole.

“Oh, this was all too much, too soon, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, my love. Given all that we’ve endured I suppose I was over eager to start our lives together…” Gale looked away, blushing.

“No, no it’s not that. This is where I want to be, Gale, here with you. I think I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed from the sudden change in our lifestyle.” Tav was desperately trying to make sense of her emotions without alarming him.

“We’ve had a long journey here and I’m probably just tired.” That had to be it, the long days of travel coupled with recovering from their adventure had worn her down more than she thought. Gale seemed content with her answer as he relaxed again.

“Well, let us retire to the balcony then. I find it difficult to dwell on hardship when looking over the harbor from here.” He led her outside, gesturing to the small bench located there.

Tav sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder, matching the rhythm of her breathing to his. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, resting his head on top of hers. They sat looking over the sparkling water, watching the small boats bobbing along with the waves. As happy as she felt, safe and content in Gale’s embrace, she couldn’t keep the tears from leaving her eyes. The salty sea breeze and warm sunlight dried them quickly but did nothing to help the horrible pain she felt gripping her chest. Gale must have felt her tense since he squeezed her just a little tighter.

She closed her eyes, trying to push away the bad thoughts. Gale was humming a tune and gently stroking her hand. The smell of him was almost enough to calm her anxiety, she turned her face into his shoulder, desperate to take in every bit of him.

“I love you, Tav. Now and forever.” He whispered, but his voice sounded distant. She didn’t say anything in response, just settled further into his arms.

When Tav opened her eyes again, she was still kneeling on the docks outside of the Upper City. Her eyes were fixed on the sky where the Netherbrain had been looming over Baldur’s Gate. The blast caused by the Netherese orb in Gale’s chest had enough force to almost knock her over, even from this distance. She remembered the searing pain that ripped through her head as the tadpole was destroyed. The realization of her surroundings caused her to wrap her arms tightly around her chest and hang her head low.

It was a lovely fantasy, thinking of their life in Waterdeep, the life Gale had planned and spoken of endlessly over the last few days. The future that was taken from her.

The rest of her companions had joined her at the edge of the dock. Shadowheart and Karlach kneeled on either side of her, arms wrapped tight around her waist and shoulders. Halsin’s hand rested on her left shoulder, while Wyll’s rested on her right. More footsteps sounded behind her; their adventuring party and allies had caught up with them. Withers’ unmistakable quiet steps followed close behind. Soft sniffles and cries moved between them as they realized that Gale was missing from the scene. The encounter with the Netherbrain came rushing back to her.

Tav had barely been given a chance to react, they had entered the brain’s psyche and thought they had it defeated. One last massive wave of psychic energy had knocked their entire party on their backs. The platforms around them started disintegrating, but the Netherbrain kept them all pinned down, unable to move or attack. She remembered lying next to Gale, their outstretched hands just barely out of reach of one another. The moment they regained their movement, Gale grabbed her hand and started an incantation. Just as he finished speaking, he kissed her hand, tears were running down his face.

“Forgive me, Tav.” He had told her, shouting to be heard over the tempest raging around the brain. “Know that I have loved you more in our short time together than I could have loved anyone else in an entire lifetime.”

He said a final few words to his incantation and before she knew it, she was whisked away from him. She tried to scream, but the air had been knocked from her lungs. Suddenly, she was on the docks looking up at the brain just before a massive explosion wiped it from existence.

“Withers,” Tav spoke up quietly, “I don’t suppose you could bring Gale back? One last time?” She was certain she already knew the answer.

“There is some magic even I dare not reverse. The power unleashed here destroyed all mortal traces of Gale Dekarios.” Withers spoke in his usual slow, deliberate tone. Tav could only nod in response.

For a moment, she allowed herself to drift back to her fantasy. The thoughts and hopes of their life together formed a knot in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she saw their wedding, their families and friends gathered in one place celebrating their love. The comforting feeling of lazy evenings in their home, the two of them curled up reading together, washed over her. She could still feel his gentle hands idly brushing away loose hairs from her face and tucking them behind her ear. As her eyes opened once again to her cold reality, the memory of their last night together caused tears to well up in her eyes. He had held her tightly against him until the morning, swearing to her that it would not be the last time he did so. They had been given so little time together and yet that was all it took for Tav to fall completely in love with the charming wizard.

Slowly, she allowed her friends to pull her to her feet. They all gathered around her, pulling her into a large group hug. Everyone exchanged kind words about Gale, promising to never let his legacy be forgotten. They tried to offer her words of comfort, assuring her that his feelings for her were clear as day.

Tav decided that there would be time for her to mourn later, for now she would be grateful to have her mind as her own again. She would be glad to be surrounded by friends, new and old. She would honor the sacrifice he made rather than wallowing in her own grief. Her life with Gale may have been stolen, but thousands of others now had lives of their own thanks to him. Tav followed her companions back into the city, still smoldering from the attack, waiting to be rebuilt, just like the future ahead of her.

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale fanfic #bg3 angst #bg3 brainrot #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #gale of waterdeep

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youcouldmakealife · 6 months

Text

LBTE: Jared (111-114)

New arc, and things get serious quick

If you want to read along, the series page is here. All previous parts under the 'liveblogging the end' tag.

111 - Change of Scenery

A new arc! One I believe I thought was the last. Spoiler alert: it was not.

And he knows that’s probably the most ungrateful attitude in the world, that every single hockey prospect in the entire province probably just felt a chill down their spine and went ‘someone isn’t appreciating the fact he’s in the fucking NHL’.

AND he’s defiled The Battle of Alberta.

“If you’re trying to make it harder to leave, it’s working,” Jared tells Bryce. Honesty is very important in a marriage.

“I don’t even want you to stay,” Bryce says, in possibly the worst acting job ever. The fact his arms tighten around Jared doesn’t help.

These two.

“Yeah,” Jared says, blows out a breath, gets one last kiss that doesn’t last long enough, then grabs his bags, Bryce hovering in the doorway when he walks down the hall like Jared’s going to trip and die on the way to the elevator, or maybe like —

“Quit looking at my ass,” Jared says without slowing.

“Training did you nice,” Bryce says in like, the sleaziest voice of all time, and Jared’s still laughing when the elevator doors close behind him.

THESE TWO.

“Okay, Halla,” Jared says, when it doesn’t abate as he heads to the front hall.

“Dinner,” Julius says when Jared opens the door.

“Hi, Julius, good to see you after months, I missed you too,” Jared says.

“Dinner,” Julius insists.

“Yeah, okay, I could eat,” Jared says, and Julius impatiently hovers while Jared puts his shoes on, grabs his wallet and his keys.

Jared's stray cat came back.

“Go be social with your team,” Jared says.

Bryce scoffs.

Still so far for Bryce to go! From this to slutty butterfly.

go b social go to bed ur so bossy, Bryce texts.

Bryce like ‘is he going to be even bossier now that we’re married? …that’s so hot’

112 - Stumbling Block

“I’ve been wondering if it’s too early to propose to my girlfriend,” Morris says.

Jared almost says ‘aren’t you a little young?’ before he realises that sounds patently ridiculous, considering Morris is at least a year older than him, and Jared’s currently wearing a wedding band.

20 years old, the AUDACITY of this boy. (Ben won’t propose for awhile, actually, but Vicki will, of course, say yes, and years down the line comes Liam’s godbaby/Luke’s fave niece Sadie)

“Just, you know, do it when it feels right?” Jared says uncomfortably. He’s not good at advice. Advice isn’t his thing. Does this ring mean he’s going to have to keep doing it? Not that he’ll take it off even if it does mean that, but it’ll suck.

Every single opportunity Jared has to mentor someone results in horrified backpedaling. Do not make this his responsibility.

“Got any pics from your wedding?” Johnson asks. He’s new to the team, picked up in free-agency, so Jared doesn’t know why he’d even care.

Jared: How dare he try to get to know me better upon meeting me, what the fuck is the matter with this guy?

“Not on my phone,” Jared says, and then Johnson, who apparently got married that summer himself, starts showing Jared picture after picture after picture of his own wedding, which is boring, but at least means he drops the subject. Jared’s pretty sure he just asked for an excuse to show all of his pictures, actually.

Trying to bond with a new teammate through a shared experience, what a fucking weirdo, right Jared?

His wife looks very pretty in her wedding gown, and Jared gets slugged hard in the arm for saying so, which he thinks is meant to be affectionate thanks? It hurts.

Jared sulkily rubbed his arm at least three times after that.

Rogers asked if he got married around Calgary, which is an easy question, and Morris asks why they haven’t ever met Jared’s spouse, which he can kind of side-step with a ‘it’s long-distance right now, they’ve got a job they love in Calgary’, and Jacobi asks him his wife’s name, which is — not one that’s easy to side-step. For a couple obvious reasons.

Jared shrugs. “It’s a secret,” he says, trying again to sound bored, probably failing.

Jared Matheson you made it a mystery. Never make it a mystery.

Jacobi waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just saying, the rookie’s fucking with y’all.”

Jared bites back an indignant ‘I’m not a rookie anymore’. It’s not worth it, and Julius will just roll his eyes again.

Jared living in fear of Julius’ disdain.

“Oh yeah?” Jacobi asks. “What’s his wife’s name?”

“It’s a secret,” Julius says without batting an eye, and Jared half wants to hug him, half wants to strangle him.

All hugs from me.

“Let the kid have some privacy if he wants it,” Rogers says, which Jared appreciates.

Whoooole lot of alarm bells ringing in Darryl’s head at this point — it ain’t his first rodeo.

He thinks Julius is smirking beside him, but he doesn’t check, because then he’d be obligated to elbow him.

TERRIFIED of Julius’ disdain. It doesn’t feel nice, does it Jared?

Jared takes back every single bad thing he’s thought or said about Darryl Rogers in his entire life. And it’s a long list, because he’s a good D-man and he’s been the enemy for like, a decade. All scratched. Good dude.

I cannot overstate how viscerally Jared has hated Rogers at points. Like, this guy’s been on the Enemy since Jared was a kid. He’s won games for the Oilers and made plays that lost the game for the Flames. And while he’s managed to let go of (most) of his Oilers angst, that one’s been around for a long time, and it’s one of the last things to go. But clean slate. Good dude. Rogers is a bro.

The Flames still apparently haven’t noticed Bryce is wearing a wedding ring. It’s hit pathetic level of obliviousness. Or maybe they have noticed, they just don’t care enough to ask Bryce about it.

Yeah it’s the second one, Jared.

Jared’s convinced Julius to actually start helping him in the kitchen, decided to tackle some of the more ambitious recipes provided by the team nutritionist, and sometimes the recipes fail and they suffer through it or order delivery, but sometimes him and Julius are sharing a silent, proud nod before shovelling greatness into their mouths.

The friend Jared deserves <3 The next generation of Mathesons will eat well.

The first indication there’s something officially rotten between Jared and Oilers management is, well — it’s not subtle.

Just a general all-round ugh for everything to do with Deslauriers.

His parents always warned him about the hazards of being a gay pro athlete, about the homophobia in the league, and it’s not that he didn’t believe them, he absolutely believed them, but he just — he doesn’t know. Figured he’d be the exception? Hoped, at least.

Again, he’d argue, but he’s an optimist at heart.

112 - Succor

Jared has to call Greg now, he guesses. His parents are probably both working, Bryce he needs to save for last, and Greg’s job is literally Jared. Among other players, obviously, but still. He should call Greg.

Greg doesn’t pick up, so Jared leaves him a message that it’s important and finishes his Gatorade, staring at the blank TV. He’s poured himself a glass of water — hydration’s important or whatever — is halfway through it when Greg calls him back.

Just including the end of this sequence, but the entire start of this part Jared’s gone so hard into repressing his anger he’s hit full on dissociation.

“Greg?” Jared asks. “You still there?”

“You know what this is, right?” Greg asks.

“Deslauriers being a fucking asshole?” Jared asks.

“Well,” Greg says. “Yes. But he’s targeting you professionally for your personal life.”

“I mean, I figured that out, yeah,” Jared says.

Greg, ten minutes into the call: WAIT, THIS IS HOMOPHOBIA. Jared: Yes please keep up.

Poor Greg, he’s so out of his depth.

“And Halla excepted, the ones who know are punishing you for it,” Greg says. “Jared, you don’t have to play for a front office that is personally targeting you. If you want — I can’t necessarily make anything happen, but if you want to request a trade, or I can contact the NHLPA and file a—”

I know this sounds like it’s stating the obvious (and it is), but Greg is just straight up having the realization now because he really didn’t think any of this would fall out the way it did, like, it’s the 21st century, who cares anymore, right?

(Dave knew.)

Greg sighs. “I know you do,” he says, like it isn’t news to him. It’s news to Jared, how much he wants to stay. “Keep me updated, okay? On anything. If he so even walks through a door you’re holding open without saying thank you, I want to know.”

This is a serious crime in Canada.

His dad calls him back within a minute. “On my way to one,” his dad says, with faint distance like he’s driving, using the hands-free. “What’s up, bud? Is Julius coming for dinner? Obviously he’s welcome, I just need to know so I know how much food to make, you guys pack it away.”

Julius is already so welcome in the Matheson household, which is going to serve him well in the future. Don accepted an Oilers player into his household before he was even dating his daughter! (Well. Two Oilers players. One was his son, so he didn't have much of a choice, even as an avid Battler of Alberta)

“Sorry,” Jared says.

“Don’t be sorry,” his dad says. “Deslauriers should be fucking sorry. If I got him in a room he’d be—”

Jared bites down a smile, what feels like his first real one of the day.

Don and Jared are so often at cross purposes in the narrative that it’s always nice when Don is 100% on Jared’s side.

“They can do whatever the fuck they want,” Jared snaps. “I’m not you, Bryce, if the Flames scratched you the entire city would be speculating about what the fuck got their star player scratched. They can do whatever they want to me, doesn’t matter if it makes sense, doesn’t matter if it’s just out of spite, and I can’t do shit, and they know it, and they’re making sure I know it. This is just—”

It’s a message. They can do whatever the fuck they want, they can make Jared sit out a game against his husband, they can make Jared sit out a game in front of his family, they can make Jared sit out a game in his hometown. They can do whatever the fuck they want, and they have.

Message received.

Jared has no interest in bullshit power games, it’s not a tongue he speaks, but he can read it fluently.

“I can’t believe you’re on his side right now,” Jared says.

“I’m on your side,” his mom says. “I’m always on your side. But I know you, Jared, as much as you like to think you’re unknowable, so I’m asking you, right now — when you’ve been meeting with Deslauriers, have you been rude?”

“Well, apparently polite’s rude now, so probably,” Jared says.

“Defensive,” she says. “Combative. Distant. Unwilling to listen.”

Not that Jared has no right to be, he obviously does, but — yeah, Susan has her finger on it. There has been a chill.

(Also 'as much as you like to think you're unknowable' is as absolutely savage as it is accurate)

“In any other industry your front office would be opening themselves up to a lawsuit with this, because this is textbook retaliatory practice. I’m furious for you. But Jared, you need to pay attention to how you come off. You’re not Bryce, you can’t antagonise your management.” Jared doesn’t know if she means that he’s not as good as Bryce, which is accurate, or that she’s implying Bryce has antagonised Flames management, which is — also accurate, but either way he’s pissed.

“Sorry,” Jared says. “I’m so terribly sorry my marriage has been mildly inconvenient for my management, of course they’re right to scratch me, because otherwise how else could I learn—”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Jared,” she interrupts. “You’re still young, and I don’t think you realise—”

Susan’s seen a lot of people’s attitudes sink them, and she doesn’t want it happening to Jared This… may not be the ideal time for her to state this. None of the Mathesons are good at holding their tongues when they’re upset. Susan’s typically the best of the bunch, but then, she's quite upset.

Julius has the same protest as everyone else, that he’s playing well, and Jared still appreciates it, maybe extra from Julius, who’s protesting like he’s annoyed his line is getting worse. Not that Greg, his dad, Bryce didn’t mean it about Jared’s play, not that they wouldn’t know what good play looks like either, not just in general, but good play for Jared in particular. But with Julius it’s less ‘why are they scratching you, then?’ and more ‘how dare they take my linemate away? You being scratched personally inconveniences me and I am not here for it’.

I love that Julius being upset for selfish reasons makes Jared happy.

“I could—” Julius says.

“Don’t,” Jared says, before he finishes whatever he was about to offer. Jared’s pretty sure the best thing for him, for this stupid fucking situation, is to grit his teeth and smile and bear it, that Julius protesting, or talking to Deslauriers, anything like that, would just set Deslauriers against him more.

Jared is correct.

114 - Rejection

The Oilers go to Calgary. And like, Jared’s not excluding himself in that. He’s on the flight, obviously, because scratched players travel with the team — the whole point of having more dudes on your roster than on the bench is so they’re there if someone gets hurt or sick last minute, or like, married a Flame and is subsequently getting punished for it.

All common occurrences.

It’s not a long walk to his apartment, and he feels this fundamental sense of relief as soon as he walks in the door, gives the concierge a smile and a wave as he heads for the elevator. Home.

Hi James! (Add him to the name twin pile with all the Mikes and Not-Mikes, Matthews (given and surname), and multiple unrelated Bradleys)

Jared barely hears Bryce’s key in the lock before Bryce is behind him in the kitchen, chin on his shoulder and hands curling around his hips. He must’ve like, sprinted it.

He didn't walk, I'll tell you that.

“If you want to eat you can’t distract me,” Jared says, and Bryce digs his chin in harder before he kisses Jared’s neck, making it very clear where lunch lies on his priority list.

“No lunch?” Jared asks.

There’s a hint of teeth in the next kiss.

Bryce has priorities. Lunch is not on the list.

“We are not having sex in the kitchen,” Jared mumbles against Bryce’s mouth as he fights Bryce’s shirt buttons, and Bryce makes a disagreeable noise in response, but starts steering them towards their room, so that’s good.

Jared has sacrificed his safety for shower sex, but he draws the line at health. No kitchen sex. They make food there. Okay, he makes food there.

Every time he thinks Bryce has reached the plateau of being the best at blow jobs, he figures out how to make it even better. It’s like. There’s probably a hockey metaphor in there, applying himself to his game, getting on the scoresheet, something, but Jared’s too come dumb to think of one.

I admire Bryce's dedication to be the best at all his passions: hockey, marriage, sucking dick.

Hmm,” Bryce says, and kisses Jared’s shoulder in a blatant violation of the no-touching policy. Jared will allow it.

Well that edict lasted ten seconds.

He cuts it close: less than a minute after curfew there’s a curt knock on the door. Jared exchanges a glance with Julius, a silent ‘who’s stuck getting up?’, but considering Jared’s probably the reason it’s happening — they periodically check in on at least the ELC guys to keep them honest, but Jared suspects this is not a random spot check — he gets up and goes to the door.

“Good kid,” Mulligan says, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Mulligan hates everything about this situation.

Mulligan didn’t even check if Julius was there. He could have been out partying.

lol, okay Jared.

Julius is bobbing his head to whatever Finnish death metal band he’s obsessed with at the moment — they all sound the same to Jared, and he bets they would even if they were singing — screaming? — in English — while peeling an orange with his teeth like a total weirdo.

I love him.

He shoots the nauseated face Julius’ way.

Julius looks down at his phone when it buzzes, then pushes his headphones down, scowling at Jared. “What?” he asks.

“Peel the orange with your hands,” Jared says.

He really should have expected the half-peeled orange that comes flying his way.

“Go back to your husband,” Julius mutters.

“Would if I could,” Jared says.

Brothers <3

Jared works very hard on keeping his face completely stoic when the goal goes in. It helps that Bryce just scored on Jared’s goalie, which tempers the flare of vicious satisfaction he feels, thinking of Deslauriers’ face right now. Jared doesn’t like it when people score on his goalies, and that includes his husband. It’s rude.

Poor etiquette to score on your husband's goalie.

They’re wheels up in nine hours. Less than ninety minutes until curfew, and maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should have gone back to the hotel to stew instead of getting not enough of Bryce again, the time so short he’s just going to feel worse when he leaves, feel cheated. He would have seen even less of Bryce if he was playing, so it’s not the scratch, except it is, it’s the scratch, and the distance, and he puts his fucking ass on the line every single time he steps on the ice, worked so fucking hard to get there, and —

Jared’s so tired.

Oh Jared.

“They gave you first star, right?” Jared asks into Bryce’s chest.

“Yeah,” Bryce says.

“Good,” Jared says. “You deserved it.”

"Thanks,” Bryce says, then, “Sorry,” and Jared closes his eyes when he feels Bryce’s lips brush his hair.

Oh buds.

#liveblogging the end

44 notes · View notes

barbiecrocs · 1 year

Text

Hard to hate.

Eddie Munson

tags! enemies to lovers, no piv, no spoilers for s4, oral (female receiving), fingering, teasing, pet names (princess), name calling (dingus), hair pulling, cumming in pants, underage drinking

I think that's it. Lemme know if I missed something.

WC.5,433

Barbies note...So I mention the Cityman Nokia but that came out in 87 so the story is set really early 87 and they are abt the graduate. Ik the time line doesnt make sense, but dont worry abt it😝. Anyway, enjoyyyy

You loved your friends, and it's been a while since you've last hung out, but what you wouldn't give right now to be home alone with a bag of hot fries and some horror flicks. Yeah, sure you said, "Steeeeeeeevie, we should kick it at your house tonight." Making finger guns at him while everyone piggybacks off of that thought. Robin butting in, "Fast times?" She nods with two thumbs ups directed at an unamused Steve.

"Ugh, again?" Nancy complains, rightfully so.

"What, it's a good movie." Robin gestures to you as back up, but you put your hands up in defense, not wanting to pick sides. It was a good movie though, but at the same time, it was worn out.

"No, that movie is so run through by all of us. How many times have we rented it from Family Video now? For heaven's sake, I'd rather watch a horror movie at this point!"

"Wow, Nancy. Daredevil, you. Maybe we a porno instead or something. Eddie wouldn't mind, nor would Steve." She teases.

And that's where you exit the convo. At the name drop of Eddie. Your eyes flicker around the video store, eye catching titles such as Nightmare on Elms Street, Sixteen Candles, and Fame pop out at you before you catch Steve mouthing a Fuck you while giving you the jack-in-the-box middle finger. Cranking and cranking until it pops out. You give him a playful smirk and an eyeroll, typing in the 'F•r•i•e•n•d•s' group chat that's name was always being changed to some joke like 'Brad's bud-lings' or Linda's Bralette. All Fast Times references made by Robin, each one deserving an eyeroll. "HANG OUT AT STEVE'S TONIGHT!!" you relay. Even though the only person you'd be informing is Eddie and maybe Chrissy if she reads the group chat. Only popping in to say hi every few weeks. 'What could possibly be keeping her so busy?' The question always circles your mind before being brushed off.

Steve's phone pings, looking down at it in hopes that it doesn't say what he thinks it says. Nope, it says exactly what he didn't want it to say. He glares at you, gently bumping shoulders with you when he walks over, inching his way down to your ear. "I hope you know that you're driving them." He taps your shoulder for fake comfort, not understanding the big problem.

—

The feeling of a headache coming on from the noisy car says it all. You should've taken the warning when Steve dished it, too bad you didn't know. Nancy and Eddie talk loudly in the backseat, trying to hear each other over Madonna's 'Material Girl' that Robin put into your car's DVD player.

'A couple more blocks. Just a couple more blocks and I can just chill at Steve's house and watch movies or whatever he has planned this time. Maybe we'll watch Fast Times again, it never gets old. Or something new like Pretty in Pink, yea that came out recently.' The thought relaxes you before Robin brings back all the stress, placing a lukewarm beer on your skater denim thighs. Your favorite low-rise jeans. They were a dark wash color, a perfect fit and were tattered with embroidered stars with a little distress.

"Care for a beer?" She asks, a tad too loud for your close proximity, "Oh my god Robin, for the last time, NO. And you reek of beer, get back." She rolls her eyes at your order, "Ugh rude! Don't be such a bummer, just take the beer. See? Here, I'll help you since your hands are full." She drunkenly puts the unopened beer can to your lips, tipping it up and down. "Huh, nothing's coming out, strange-", you grab both of her wrists with one hand and turn down the volume, "Robin! For heaven's sake please put it down, you're blocking my vision. Gosh, who the hell let her sit in the front! Guys mind giving me a hand? Geez!" You continuously swat Robin's hands away while trying to keep a steady steering hand. "Princess, you let her sit in the front. Remember? So, you did that to yourself."

"Okay well, I wasn't expecting much help from you anyway. And stop calling me princess, dingus."

"Stop calling me dingus, princess." He retorts with a chuckle in his voice. That motherfucker, he probably gets off on stressing and teasing you.

Nancy grabs onto the back of your seat, pulling herself towards you, "Nuh uh, no, not today. Both of you shut up. You're acting like children. Why do you hate each other so much anyway?" You both shut up, waiting for the other to give a response.

You didn't answer because you didn't actually hate Eddie. You only acted like this because he hated you first. Well, you interpreted it as hate. He would just straight up ignore you. You used to have a crush on him, giggling like a little schoolgirl when he'd pass you in the halls. You thought that maybe he was just dense, but then your best friend Chrissy exposed your little crush to him. Yet, he still did nothing about it.

None of that mattered your junior year though. You decided to put yourself out there like Chrissy did. You were social, prettier, and had the school's hotshot, Jason Carver on your arm. He wasn't your type, but everyone kissed the ground you walked on so why complain? Why complain about the times he would chew with his mouth open? Why complain about the times he'd brag about how your tits bounced when he fucked you? Totally leaving out the part where he only lasted 30 seconds of the "pounding" he gave you. You'd always rant about it to Chrissy, both of you rolling your eyes and snickering when he'd talk about it.

Through Chrissy, you met Steve, Nancy, and Robin, all your best friends to this day. Y'all would go out for milkshakes, watch movies, go to the mall and have a blast. Things were settling down nicely for your senior year.

But then, Eddie wormed his way back into your life through your shared friends and classes. Suddenly, ignoring and hating him was starting to get exhausting. How could you hate someone with good music taste? You'd act disgusted when his trashy drug den of a van pulled into the school's student parking lot or Steve's driveway. Then you'd notice Metallica's 'battery' pouring out the speakers of his car and can't help but bob your head.

Then there was his sweet and smile. His smile was angelic. All the leather studded jackets and band patches in the word couldn't dim the brightness that is his smile. It was a little crooked, but his lips were perfect.

And his hair– God, his hair. How much you longed to curl your fingers in his soft frizzy locs. Run your fingers through and grip it at the scalp while he devours you like a starved man– No. You are past that phase and over him. But as you'd like to think, none of that mattered anymore. You broke up with Jason, still had your friends, and still didn't like Eddie. If only you knew that Eddie never actually hated you either.

–

You swallow hard at the question that sits tensely in the air between you two. He notices your silence on the topic, a smug grin easing its way to his face, "Cat got your tongue?" You can hear the teasing sarcasm in his voice, practically oozing out his mouth. "Oh yeah? Why don't you answer it? You have a mind and mouth of your own." Glares exchange through the rear view mirror before you break away.

"Nancy, please." You plea, not waiting for Eddie's clapback. Nancy sighs, not wanting to hear you both argue like kids anymore. "Okay. Come on Robin, you've had enough time in the front seat." She skillfully maneuvers Robin out the front seat and buckles her into the back with them, all in the blink of an eye. "Thank you." You give her a sickly sweet smile and shoot Eddie a nasty look. A couple more turns and you arrive at Steve's house.

"We're here, kids. Get the hell out of my car." You joke. "Let me remind you to never have kids." Eddie chuckles. You try your hardest to seem indifferent from that and the banter you had with him in the car, but your demeanor still slips from under your hands. "Right, says the druggie and seller. Plus, I don't think your house is in living condition for kids or anyone ever." You slam your car door, locking it and marching up to Steve's door with a tired look plastered on your face.

"Hah, she called you a druggie. Me personally, Eddie. I wouldn't take that." Robin laughs, leaning on Nancy's shoulder as she pulls her out the backseat. Eddie punches her arm, "Yeah whatever. And you know damn well that you'd take that."

"Yeah, I would." She bites her lip in thought.

You bang on Steve's door again, pulling out your phone to call him since he still hasn't answered the door. You guys have been standing out on the porch for what, 5 minutes? "Knock again, maybe you didn't do it hard enough." Nancy suggests. You knock again, putting your ear to the door. "Oh wow, look at Sherlock over here." He taunts and you flip him off. "Shut up. There's music blasting through the door. No wonder he can't hear us." "Okay well, can you make him hear us, because Robin's really heavy." Nancy readjusts Robin on her shoulder while you dial Steve's number on your Cityman Nokia. "Well, aren't you updated with the times?" Eddie glares at your phone. It had just dropped at the beginning of the year. Within seconds of it ringing the door flies open with a casually dressed Steve leaning against the doorway and a turkey sandwich in his hand.

He takes a bite, "So how was the drive?" A genuine question that you can't help but lean into his chest, head first. "Haha, very funny. You knew damn well what you were doing when you said I was driving." You put more of your weight onto him and he pats the top of your head for comfort. "Oh haha. Lemme guess, Robin road in the front?" You nod, "Damn, drunk?" You nod again as he looks up from the top of your head to Robin. "Damn, want a sandwich?" You nod once more. "Can we please hurry this interaction up or give me a hand." Nancy gestures to Robin. Steve finishes his sandwich and shuffles you inside.

——

"Mhm! Oh my god, Steveeeee." You moan, dancing in your seat. "This is so good!" Eddie rolls his eyes at your chipperness. The entirety of bacon, lettuce, tomato, avocado, and turkey all toasted on one sandwich. Steve laughs, enjoying your enjoyment. "Glad you like it. I usually have mine with chips, but I ate the last bag yesterday."

"That's fine. Got any pop?" You bounce happily in your chair before your mood is abruptly ruined by Eddie interjecting from the other side of the island. "I'm sorry, what? Pop? You mean soda? Hell, I'd even take soda pop or fizzy pop, but just pop?" You stop dancing to give emphasis to you not liking his tone or the fact that he was talking to you in general. "Yes, just pop. Steve knows what I'm talking about anyway. Isn't that right?" You put a hand out waiting for said drink to be put in your hand. The refrigerator opens and closes and the cold drink is placed into your palm then you shove it in his face. It was Coca-cola. Eddie sighs, fingers rubbing the space between his eyes, not bothering to continue the argument. "Dingus." You say under your breath, cracking open the can.

"So, what do you guys want to do?" Steve pauses, rounding the counter and plopping down on the floor across from Nancy and Robin. "Because I don't have a movie planned."

A sharp gasp comes from Robin. "No Fast Times?"

"No? That movie is worn out anyway. Maybe another day though." He says, getting up to look at his movie catalog before Nancy excitedly jumps up. "YES! THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING. IT'S SO WORN OUT." She says, earning a silent laugh from you. You catch Eddie glaring at you once more. "Why can't you ever take your eyes off of me? I always catch you staring." You say, finishing your sandwich. "Because, I'm just so in love. Your beauty is captivating, my love." He says, almost making it sound genuine, but the hint of sarcasm gives it away. "Oh, watch out. You almost made me fall for it." You finish your sandwich and join the others in the living room.

"How about marry, kiss, kill?" You suggest, taking a memory foam pillow from the sofa and sitting down at the coffee table. Robin suddenly takes interest in the convo ever since getting shut down for the movie. "Ooooh, good one. How about we add fuck, too. Just to spice it up."

Eddie joins the rest of you in the living room, plopping down on the sofa between Nancy and Robin as she starts the game. "Hmm. Nancy, you first. Jason, Fred, Chance, and Steve." Her face scrunches up with every name drop, the look of disgust written all over it. "Fred?! You just had to put that one in there." She pauses, shooting Robin a devastated look as you snicker. Oh the betrayal. Robin rolls her eyes, finally starting to come back to herself after all the cups of cold water Nancy shoved down her throat. "Oh come on, spit it out."

"Alright, fine. This is speaking as if me and Jonathan aren't together, okay? Marry Steve. Kill Jason. Kiss Fred. Fuck Chance." The group's eyes go wide with surprise. "Have you always thought about killing my ex?" You tease, looking offended, but you really weren't. Hell, you'd help with the murder. "Yes! Oh my god he's such a dickhead. I talked to him for the newspaper and he was sunshine and smiles during it, then turned around and tried to tell me how to do my job after. Saying stuff like," She pauses, clearing her voice to mimic his dopey voice. "Oh, don't forget to add the part where I'm captain of the basketball team and how many shots I scored in the last game." Mind you, the question I asked him was, "How do you feel about the bullying incidents and what would you do to prevent it?" Since he's supposed to be one of the school leaders. Ugh, he just gets on my nerves. I'm so glad you dumped his ass because I cannot stand by and let one of my friends date a literal piece of shit on the floor." Her manic rant stops as she places her hands back on her lap, not realizing she was using them to talk in the first place.

"So…Um, fuck chance huh?" Steve says, picking the conversation back up. "Yeah. I've talked to him a couple of times for the newspaper club and he's really nice. Plus he's got nice hair and facial structure." She waits for responses, but everyone just looks around in agreement. "Okay, Y/n." From the way she says your name, you know she's about to fuck you up with this one. "Gareth, Eddie, Andy, and Patrick." "Ugh. Two people each from the 'freak' and 'dickhead squad.'" You ignore the glare from Eddie and put your elbow on the coffee table in front of you, leaning into your hand in thought. "Okay, I think I got it. Marry Gareth. Kiss Andy. Fuck Patrick. Kill Eddie." You close your eyes and list all of them on one hand, some laughs, some eye rolls, specifically one from Eddie. "You'd fuck Patrick but Kill me?" "Yeah, I was shocked. Eddie is very fuckable." Steve says while Robin agrees, getting a sideways look from Nancy. "Not fuckable by me of course. I just meant that as a compliment if I was straight. You know?" She clarifies. "He's got a cute face, nice hair, and he's the perfect height. I wouldn't mind being married to that cutie pie. I feel bad though because he's probably so innocent, he looks it too. I'd ruin him with our relationship." You laugh. "Oh well. It's not like I wouldn't love doing that anyway." "Yeah right. As if my princess could ruin anyone." Eddie stares you down from the couch, thighs clenching from his whole demeanor and 'my princess'. "Don't call me that and I'm not yours." You say in a hushed tone. "It's fun to watch you deny that nickname. I know you love it, princess." He inches closer to you.

"I don't." You inch.

"Do." He inches.

"I hate it as much as I hate you." You inch.

"I also find that hard to believe." He stops inching closer, anymore and you'd be kissing. You totally didn't want that. Robin would've joked around and said 'Kiss already!', but she didn't want the death glare and possible death that would come with it. She could see it now, both of you hovering over her as Eddie chokes her out and you high five him. Her face going blue and vision fading to black before going to the light or who knows maybe she was going to hell. She prayed she wouldn't. But this isn't about her, and that never happened, only in her drunken coming sober thoughts. Where it shall stay.

You both hover over the coffee table as the rest watch. He leaves you speechless, no clapback, not even a huff. Only a broken glare, but your silence says all he needs to know. You slam your hands on the table and walk away, visually startling everyone, but Eddie. He doesn't even flinch. "Don't you walk away from me!" Eddie follows after, his long legs mindlessly stepping over Robin's feet with ease as you two bicker. "Don't tell me what to do! You're not my dad." You storm the hallway, stepping into the closest room, being a guest bedroom. You try to shut the door in his face, but he's right behind you, hot on your heels. He gets a foot in the door as you shut it, luckily for him, his platforms are thick so it didn't do much damage. He flings the door open forcefully, sending you back into a dresser. He slams the door loudly.

"Should we do something?" Steve looks down the hallway from where he is. "Can you see anything?" Robin askes, but he shakes his head. "The door is closed." Nancy rubs her temples, "I feel like we should do something, but I don't wanna be the one to get hurt. Like what if they turn on me because I get in between their 'lovers quarrel'? I don't wanna find out." They both nod their head in agreement. "Yeah, I say we step in if we hear stuff being thrown or like actual violence. Right now we should be on standby." Steve announces as if it was a real plan. In reality, they just didn't want to interfere.

Eddie cages you between the dresser and himself, so close you could feel his uneven breath on your face. Your bodies glued against each other, his leg separating both of yours, and brushing against your cunt. His hands on the outside of yours, chests almost touching if not the height difference. Both of you stand idly in this position, calming your breathing, taking a moment to assess the situation you've gotten yourselves into. You try to move from under him to clear your head, accidentally rubbing your cunt with the thigh that separates your legs. A moan almost slips, but you bite your lip, hoping he doesn't notice. He does. "Hm? Got something to say princess?" He hunches over you, easing down to your level. "Fuck you!" "You'd like that wouldn't you?" His leg shifts again, feeding your entrance and clit that delicious friction it hasn't had in a while. You let out a muffled curse, "You want my attention so bad." Eddie's face contorts into fake confusion, trying to brush it off. "What?" "You heard me. Always making little quips even when I'm not talking to you. When I am talking to you, you always tease me. It seems like you love talking to me. You can't get enough of it. If you hated me as much as you say, you wouldn't call me princess. It seems like I'm not the only one that enjoys that nickname." You smirk, seeing his composure crack before quickly recovering. "So, you do like that nickname?" Your face turns hot from embarrassment. Oops, you didn't realize you had let that slip out. You got ahead of yourself and your mouth ran faster than your brain. Now it's at the finish line and you're sitting there looking dumb at the start. "I, I don't." You don't even know why you're still lying at this point. You've been found out.

"We both know that's a lie." His lips find your neck as he lifts you onto the brown hardwood dresser you've been pressed against. He settles his hips between your legs. "Fuuuuuck. Fuck you." You begin to trip on your words, every sentence comes out with a stutter in it. "Just say the word and this can all end." Your train of thought evaporates when he finds that sweet spot on your neck, stamping hickeys that will definitely show with your clothing choices. He notices your silence and starts to pull away, afraid that he overstepped. "Don't! Don't stop, please." Your begging goes straight to his groin and your arms wrap around his neck, ensuring that he won't go anywhere. "Oh? You sound so sweet for me, princess." You give in, not complaining about the nickname and focusing on the growing heat between your legs. It was just a stupid nickname that you might or might not think about in the shower while you imagine his head between your thighs.

He takes his hand from your hips and slides it under your shirt, groaning when he's found with a bra. "What, can you not get it off by yourself?" You reach a hand behind to help him before he slaps it away. "No, I got it." He skillfully unhooks with one hand, your eyebrows lifting in surprise as he laughs. "I'm not a virgin and a loser. I pick and choose my struggles, okay?" He pulls your shirt above your head to be met with your breast. They sit perfectly on your chest, perfect size, perfect for your body, perfectly soft. He groans lowly while teasing your nipples, your tits fit perfectly into his cold ring-clad fingers. He plays with them like a kid with their first slinky, completely mesmerized, squeezing and squishing them together. His hot mouth encases one of your taunt nipples as you fight the urge to slip your fingers into his hair. "Go ahead. I know you want to." It's almost as if he read your mind. "I know you love the curls, all the girls do." You roll your eyes. "So, grip it if you need to." He smirks up at you through full black eyelashes, trailing his kisses lower to the waist of your jeans, which you didn't know he unbuttoned. His fingers slide against the skin of your hips, looping around your jeans and tugging them down your legs. Leaving the wet area on your panties exposed to him. "Well, would you look at that? You've soaked right through them." His words fluster you, but before you can reply, he's grabbing you by the back of your knees and pulling you closer to the edge, your ass only half way on the dresser now. He drops to his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, clutching one by the back of your knee again. He levels with your soaking cunt, giving it an experimental lick, not for you, but for himself. He slides your panties off, letting out a groan from the sight. Your beautiful pussy, glistening because of him. He runs a thick finger up your puffy folds to your clit, rubbing gentle circles as he watches your chest heave from pleasure.

Eddie continues to mindlessly tease your sensitive clit. Pulling muffled and bitten back moans from you. You hoist yourself up, trying your best to roll your hips farther onto his face, but he holds you down. "Eager now, are we?." He nips around the area you need him the most. Kissing and licking your thighs. "You must want to get your hair pulled, whore." He bites at your thigh harder than before. "Says the one getting her pussy eaten by her "sworn enemy". Isn't that ironic?" "Oh shut up. You haven't even-" Your tongue gets caught in your throat blocking the moan that dares to leave your lips.

It was supposed to be a petty lick to make you shut up and appreciate what he was giving you, but he couldn't believe how sweet you were. The lust clouding his brain, his dick hard and leaking precum, pressing impossibly hard against his jeans, all factors working together to drive him more crazy. He starts to lap at your pussy, slurping and suckling the juices as you try to pull away from the sudden pleasure, but the grip on your thighs tighten possessively. You glance down at him to see his eyes, pupils blown wide and clouded with lust. He's eating your pussy like a starved man, sloppy and the bottom half of his face soaked with your juices. He's wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking kisses to it when he slips a finger in you. God, your walls are so velvety soft and what he wouldn't give to be in them. His fingers could be in you for hours, past the wrinkling stage.

Loud moans and curses erupt from your throat, hoping your friends in the other room didn't hear. That somehow the loud noises went unheard or they were suddenly deaf. They didn't. They can and did hear everything.

"So… So, I guess they're not fighting anymore." Nancy pauses, picking stubborn threads from the old couch. "Um, yeah… So uh. PIZZA! Yea pizza, y'all wanna go get some pizza? I mean I didn't make either of you a sandwich earlier. You must be hungry." Steve tries to carry the convo while Nancy and Robin nod their heads in agreement. "Yup! Haha, absolutely famished." Robin says, really playing it up. "Yeah! I mean, like when was the last time we ate? Three days ago? Haha!" A heavy silence sits between the three of them, then Steve grabs his keys. "So! Um, let's go get that pizza!" Fake smiles emerge from all of them, trying to act like two of their friends weren't in the next room fucking. "Oh, Shot-"

"No Robin. You're not riding shotgun."

"Aw man."

The loud shutting of the front door can be heard by you and Eddie, but you didn't care and apparently he didn't either. He begins to give your pussy little kitten licks. Fuck, is he teasing again? What is his problem? You're already dripping and desperate for him. He is enjoying this all too much.

You grab him by the hair, eliciting a moan and shove his face in your cunt. "Eat." You demand as Eddie looks up at you through those fucking eyelashes again. His hands resting on your marked up inner thighs. You weren't the only one enjoying the view, though. You thought you looked absolutely crazy right now, chest heaving unevenly, a sheet of sweat coating your body, your shirt sticking to your breast from the sweat and pupils blown out just like Eddie's, but he was loving it. If only he could pause time and save this image forever or had the artistic ability to paint this moment how he sees fit. The image alone could make him cum in his pants. You panting over him, fed up with his teasing and finally putting him in his place. He obeys, using the tip of his nose to rub circles on your clit as his tongue plunges in and out of you. Your head falls back against the mirror behind you.

Both of your hands pull his hair as you roll onto his face, desperate moans pouring out of your mouth. He continues to moan into your pussy, coaxing you closer to your orgasm with vibrations. Your eyes shut when he slides two fingers in you, not wasting any time on delaying your orgasm. His efforts have your legs shaking in his grip as you gush on his face. He watches intensively, eyes flickering between your fucked out but satisfied face and your spasming pussy. Your precious moans turning into whines of his name as he fingers you into overstimulation. He slips his fingers out and slurps up the rest of your essence.

Your eyes open when you feel his lips on yours, tasting a bit of yourself on him. You moan into the kiss, giving his tongue the opportunity to explore your mouth. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him back to slide off the dresser. You push him backwards towards the bed and drop to your knees. Placing one hand on the wet tent in his pants before he grabs it.

"I want to." You assure him before he says anything.

"But you don't have to."

"But I want to."

"I said you don't have to."

"I said I want to."

"Fine! I don't want you to then." You look at him in confusion before he continues.

"I don't consent. I won't let you." You narrow your eyes at him before dropping the topic. "You're a weird one, Eddie Munson." You start to gather your clothes and head to the bathroom. "Oh, can you change out here?" He says, ushering ahead of you and shutting the door. "Oh, okay?"

Eddie shuts the door behind him, his eyes falling on the situation in his pants. He manically searches the bathroom for a rag he can use to clean the cum out of the inside of his pants, luckily it didn't soak through yet. Yet. He undoes his studded belt and lets his pants fall to the floor, finding a rag and scrubbing the best he can with hand soap. He can be heard huffing and puffing from outside the door, "Hey Eddie. Lemme ask you a question." He nearly jumps out his skin. He thought you already got dressed and left. "Um okay? Shoot."

"How come you hate me so much?"

"Oh princess, I never hated you." He tries to multitask, but fails terribly and almost slips on the bottom of his pants. Luckily, he grabbed onto the sink.

"Oh yeah? Well, you always ignored me. Chrissy told you I had a huge crush and you still didn't make a move or try to talk to me."

"Oh yeah. That. To me you were such a sweet girl. I thought you were too good for me and you'd leave me in the dust with nothing but my heart to hold." He stops scrubbing, reminiscing about the said times.

"You were too good to be true. You were too good for me. You were top of our class and you already had colleges knocking at your door. I didn't have dreams that big. I didn't want to dim your light." He trails off, starting back to scrubbing.

"Why didn't you let me make that decision? I should get to choose who I hang out with." He can hear you stepping closer until you finally lean against the door, back first he assumes.

"I just wanted the best for you." He takes a dry towel and soaks up as much of the wetness as possible. Almost dry. He fits his pants back on, opening the door slowly to ensure you had enough time to move.

Then he feels a fist against his chest. "I hate you, you know." He smiles down at you, "From someone that was rubbing their pussy on my face, I don't believe that." You both walk out the door into the hallway to be met with the smell of pizza and your group of friends plus Chrissy. "Oh hey! I ran into these guys at Domino's." She grabs a slice and holds it out to you two. "Pizza?"

#smut #eddie munson #eddie #stranger things #stranger things smut #enemies to lovers #eddie x fem!reader #eddie smut #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #y/n smut #eddie x y/n smut

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comshipbracket · 2 months

Text

Antis DNI - Block the tag "comship" if this causes discomfort.

Remember, you are voting for the ship you prefer, not the ship you find more problematic

Propaganda for both ships under the cut.

Disclaimer: All ships (other than NozoCoco) on this bracket are FOLLOWER-SUBMITTED ships, the Mods do not always hold necessary knowledge to be aware of any errors or fanonizing what should be canon material that may arise.

Zackray Propaganda (MinorxAdult, Toxic Dynamic)

"Ray is a 13-year-old girl who wakes up in a weird building without memories. Oh, there are some weird killers in the building with her too. Zack is one of them and the first time they meet he runs after her with a scythe. Love at first sight <3 (/joke)

At first, her memories return and she remembers why she was in that building in the first place. With her memories back, she becomes apathetic and almost indifferent to everything.

After Zack saves her from a very creepy doctor, she turns to him and asks one thing: `Could you kill me?`. Zack is very confused, but after he realizes that he would never be able to leave the building alone, he offers her a deal. He would only kill her after she helped him leave the building. This is the beginning of their connection.

I can't give too many spoilers, but seriously, they are a duo that subverts all expectations. Although Zack is a cold serial killer and blah blah blah, Rachel can be more cursed and scarier than him. It's really funny that she spends the entire anime begging him to kill her, and his reaction every time is `Wtf is wrong with you`. And yes, Zack may be an adult, but Ray can be more rational than him and is very good at understanding things quickly. She is the one who always finds a way for them to escape the traps of the other killers in the building.

He spends the entire anime asking her to smile, because then he would be more excited about killing her, but every time she tries to smile, he laughs at her and says that her smile is lifeless (and it really is, my poor girl).

At one point in the anime she says that he is her god. It's serious. She even hugs a knife he gave to her very intimately.

He compares her to a doll a few times in the anime. It's so weird and cute <3

They're not canon, but I would argue that the romantic subtext is there. Anyway, they are weird, traumatized people who end up getting very attached to each other."

Family Rentarou Propaganda (Pseudo-Incest - Hakari and Hahari are related, Rentarou dates both. Kusuri and Yaku are related, Rentarou dates them both, Pseudo-Age Gap/Pseudo-Teen x Minor - Kusuri and Yaku both use an immortality potion making them LOOK 8, Rentarou is 16, Incest, MotherxDaughter - Hahari french kissed her daughter Hakari, Age Gap, AdultsxMinor, AdultsxTeen - Yaku is 89 and Hahari is 29 while Rentarou is 16, Nonconsensual Drugging/Nonconsensual Love Potion - Kusuri keeps doing this to Rentarou)

"The God of love in Rentarou's world has legitimately declared these are Rentarou's official soulmates. He is required to date all 100 of these girls. When he even considered cheating as an option, he beat himself up for an entire night before settling on making this a proper polycule circumstance. Even when Hakari's mom enters the polycule, the polycule still keeps going strong! He's the first harem protagonist I've ever seen who says `You know what? Let's try polyamory! That's a way better idea!` and manages it healthily

With the polycule growing strong, with this many girlfriends, you might think that Rentarou would run out of energy or time to care for all of them. He doesn't! When it comes to Hakari and Karane, he manages to please them both despite their clashing deredere and tsundere personalities and jealous attitudes. He gets them to fall in love with not only him, but it's heavily implied also with each other!

When Shizuka - a mute girl - enters the picture, he spends entire days staying up all night to transcribe every word in the book she uses as a talking tool into a proper text to speech app, despite the book not having an App Reader version yet. He even downloaded the app he made to his own phone to show it was safe to her!

He's able to understand Nano's lack of emotions and need to do everything logically, but also able to see the subtleties in her mostly neutral expression and notice when she's enjoying herself. With Kusuri, he tries to both support her endeavour of making weird and new drugs, but ALSO to keep her safe. He does everything he can to keep these girls safe.

When Hakari's mom tried to prevent Hakari from dating Rentarou, he and his girlfriends staged a girlfriend rescue mission where they'd snatch her back and find her a new place where they could be together forever, no matter how much it would end up with Hahari trying to hunt them down... only for Rentarou to find a relationship with Hahari as well, after convincing her he was right for her daughter! Hahari fell in love with his genuine and sweet way of adoring each of these girls! If I talk about the rest of them this'll become far too long, so I'll leave it here! I adore Rentarou's family. The best depiction of a polyamorous group I've seen in any media, despite all it's wonks."

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chickenparm · 1 year

Text

Where You Willed The Moon - Part 3/End

happy scara-release-day, here's the ending of this little goofy thing as a celebration. mind the chapter tags for specific warnings :^) can you tell this chapter is just a love letter to scaramouche? is it that obvious?

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AO3 Link Prev Part

Scaramouche/Reader (reader is the traveler) reader in prev parts is F but this part can be read as GN 3,119 Words - NSFW Chapter Tags: Blowjobs, Crying, Confessions, minor Overstimulation Story Tags: Unhealthy Codependence, Enemies to Lovers, P in V, f!Receiving Oral, Thigh Riding, Mentions of m!Losing Virginity, Pining, Bullshit Sereniteapot Magic, sub-ish Scara when it counts :^)

Spoilers for the Sumeru story, disregards anything post-boss-fight.

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“You could try to be a little civil.”

“And you could find a hole to stuff her in and we could leave her.”

…

“Why do you need her, anyway? You’ve got me now. Surely I’d be a better guide than a flying lavender melon.”

“Well, for starters, Paimon isn’t a wanted criminal.”

“I doubt I’m wanted. The sages are unlikely to admit their folly, and the Fatui aren’t necessarily on anyone’s good side, even on their best days.”

“Paimon is my best friend. I think that’s a good enough reason to not leave her in a ditch somewhere.”

“And I’m your-”

“My what?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Think about it. We’ll talk about it tonight-”

—

Wangshu Inn is deceptively quiet. Such a central location, popular with travelers and merchants alike, should be far more bustling than it currently is. But the weather is balmy and warm, the sky is clear, the roads have been safer, so it’s no wonder if there are more campfires dotted on the horizon than usual.

It leaves you in blissful quiet, only the occasional conversation drifting from the walkways above and below, too muffled to really eavesdrop on anything of importance. That’s well enough for you - you’re alone, leaning on the window, breathing in of the slightly humid air that’s tinged with the dinner that’s being made in the kitchens below.

Scaramouche will be back soon - it’s hard to break the habit of calling him that, when you’ve gone so long. You’d never use it to his face, but you’ve given up on trying to push that away for now. It’s not a terrible name, the connotations having been changed in your heart the moment your consciousness touched his own.

With him comes Paimon - they’ve been arguing again, you can tell with how Paimon takes her food and disappears in a shower of sparks. She’s been doing that more often, her distaste for him well known despite your assurances that he’s not the same man that had been so hostile before. Conflicting personalities, you supposed. Like two pieces of sandpaper.

“You’re thinking hard.”

“I’m not thinking at all.” Your counter comes over your shoulder, given with a lazy smile and a shrug of your shoulder. The skin of your cheek sticks to your shoulder with how thick the air feels, Liyue’s Summer has been particularly unforgiving this year, so you’ve heard.

“Oh, so your head is just as empty as I thought it was.”

“You looked into it, remember? Saw my every thought?” Your lower back presses against the window frame as you turn to lean against it, watching as he settles at the low table and portions out food for himself. It’s unnecessary for him - food doesn’t provide him with anything other than an interesting pastime. Yet he participates anyway, and you’re not about to shame him for finding enjoyment in something so trivial.

At your questions, he lifts his gaze, unable to block his expressions with the hat that was thrown haphazardly on the bed you’ll share this evening. Without it, he seems almost vulnerable - like he’s lost a shield that protects him. The answer lingers for a moment, before he nods in an effort to forego something verbal. Your silence in return urges him to backtrack on that.

“I did. Everything - likely as much as you’ve seen about me, I’d say.” Violet eyes turn to his bowl, filled with only rice for the moment. He takes a second to mix it around aimlessly, steam rolling once his chopsticks break the surface. “I wouldn’t have killed you, you know. In our fight.”

“One hundred and sixty-eight times grows a little fuzzy, but… I believe you.”

The amusement in your tone seems to annoy him, and he fixes you with an unconvincing glare and a sharp exhale. “I mean it. When we connected, I saw your life. Where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through. You aren’t human - you’re immortal. You won’t-”

Leave me.

He doesn’t need to finish the thought, that mere insinuation making his cheeks color slightly as he looks you in the eye with all the bravery he can muster when he clearly wants to shy away. “I was confused but… a part of me believed you, when you brought up the prospect of losing myself. When you made it seem like you cared.”

“I did care. I do care.”

“I know that now,” he mumbles under his breath before righting himself, “but at the time, my thoughts were in the wrong place. I still wasn’t going to kill you, I wanted to-... to convince you to stay, I think. To convince you that if you joined me, I could help you look for your twin. As the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom, maybe I could offer enough to keep you.”

The leaves of Wangshu Inn’s tree rustle with the coming wind, filling the space with natural white noise and drowning out the sound of your heart breaking. He avoids you in favor of looking out the window over your shoulder, a stubborn set to his jaw as he cuts off anything further he might say to incriminate himself.

Unable to allow a declaration like that to rest, you push off the window to cross the room, only a few short steps bringing you to his side where you kneel close enough for your knees to brush his thigh. He flinches when you reach for him, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, soft as ever.

“If only you could’ve known that it was what came before that which brought me to you, hm?” Playing with the ends of his hair, you twist them loosely around your fingers before letting that hand slide down his shoulder, then to his arm, then to his elbow where his skin is barely covered between his arm guard and sleeve. “Well you have me now. Everything happens for a reason, I guess. Maybe all of that was just a convoluted way to bring us together.”

Scaramouche’s head turns so quickly that it startles you, his face dangerously close to your own, his nose just barely brushing against yours. His voice wavers, his question is one you can almost taste on your lips if you were to run your tongue out to catch it.

“What am I to you?”

And the answer is so simple, so obvious that you wonder why he needed to ask it at all. But you’ve felt the need for reassurance more times than you can remember, and perhaps the situation with Paimon earlier had shaken his resolve in your dedication to him. Even after you’d given him everything, he greedily asked for more. As long as it was in your power to give…

“Everything.” A small smile from you, a look of astonishment from him that’s wiped away when you lean forward to kiss him gently. The featherlight touch lingers, leaving your skin tingling as you pull away just enough to watch the way his eyes snap shut to stem the shine of tears beginning to gather at the corners.

Scaramouche’s lip quivers, just before he draws it between his teeth to hide the motion. Giving him a small bit of privacy, you lean in to wrap your arms around his body, pulling him to lean on you. It’s a familiar motion, one that you’ve indulged in with him an innumerable amount of times. It’s as easy as breathing, as familiar as gliding had felt the first time you’d soared over Mondstadt.

Fingers dig into your back, clutching you as he seeks all the comfort you’re offering him. He nearly bowls you over with how he leans into you, selfishly accepting everything on display until his face is buried into your shoulder and his body shakes with the effort of holding back the emotions that want to run free.

“Don’t ever doubt how much you mean to me, alright? No one else can occupy the same space in my heart as you.” Gently, you kiss the exposed skin of his shoulder, lingering at your leisure as you watch a shiver raise bumps along his skin. Dragging your lips up to his neck, mouthing at the point of his pulse through the sheer fabric of his undershirt, you relish how he’s gone from limp in your arms to stunned tension. Anticipation colors him, even if you can no longer see his face.

“Can I tell you something? Something you didn’t get to see in my mind, something you haven’t learned yet?”

As if he would say no, but it’s not often you get to tease him without getting a taste of his barbed responses. Instead of his sharp tongue, you receive a nod that’s deceptively demure, his hair brushing along your cheek smoothly with the motion. Kissing further up his neck, along the soft skin beneath his ear, and finally to his earlobe, you murmur your secret just loud enough that only he could ever hear its first manifestation into reality.

“I love you.”

Everything falls silent. The heartbeat in your ears, the leaves whispering in the tree, the conversations that flutter in from outside. For the briefest time, you’re almost convinced that perhaps you’ve spoken some code words that cease the world from spinning altogether.

If you did nothing, said nothing further, would you be allowed to stay in this single moment until the end of time? Would that ending even come, so long as you kept so very still, your knees beginning to ache from the hardwood flooring? It’s a simple pain to bear in exchange for holding him like this, the burden on your heart lifted with the proclamation that’s been clawing to release itself from the very moment he’d crashed to the floor in that workshop so far below the city of Sumeru.

It’s not your doing that time begins to slip forward again. It’s his, where his shaking hands grow lax against you, barely hanging on with the friction between his fabric-covered palm and the back of your shirt. “Do you mean that?”

Scaramouche’s doubt hurts. Not because he second-guesses what you’ve said, but the entire reason he feels the need to do so in the first place. He’s been lied to, scorned, pushed away so many times that he can’t help but feel wary. So, you decide perhaps it’s best to show him. To ingrain it in his heart and his mind so thoroughly that he’ll never doubt your conviction ever again.

He doesn’t even fight you when you give him a push, pulling away enough that you can watch as he allows you to lean him back, further and further until he has to shift his legs to cage you in as his back hits the floor. The lanterns in the room set his face alight, showing the rose color of his cheeks and the wetness that begins to well up in his eyes once more.

One swipe of your thumb isn’t enough to wipe them away, but it leads him to lean into your palm that conforms to his cheek so perfectly. Like he was made for you to hold him in the sweetest ways, some divine form created for you to love as surely as you do in this moment.

The lithe muscles of his abdomen jump as your hands slide beneath the parted fabric of his kimono, warm palms pressing against his skin as you explore planes you haven’t given yourself nearly enough opportunities to indulge in. Beneath you, a shaking breath leaves him, catching in his throat as you untuck his clothing from his belt, then work at the knot keeping the remainder of his clothing cinched securely.

“What are you-”

“Showing you. Making sure you don’t forget, that you never question for a single moment ever again what sort of meaning you have to me.” He tenses as you continue to tug at fabric, untucking and parting until he’s just indecent enough for you to wrap your hand around his half-hard arousal. All it takes is that single touch for him to moan low and slow, appreciative enough for his head to roll back to rest on the floor with a dull thud. Any apprehension leaves him with a gentle stroke of your hand.

Leaning closer, enough that your intentions are obvious even as he can’t look anywhere but the ceiling rafters above, you speak close enough to his cock that your warm breath washes over it. He tenses, hardening in your palm as you hum, “I want to make you feel so good that every time you wonder how I might feel, you’ll remember this moment and your problems will go away.”

And the response in his throat dies as his cock finds a home on your tongue, from base to tip, dipping into the slit and tasting the beginnings of his release with a saltiness on your tongue. It’s far from unpleasant, and you find your lips wrapping around the head in search of more. There’s a scraping sound, grating in its insistence as his nails dig into the hardwood flooring. Both hands are straining, fingers shaking with the effort of keeping still for no real reason.

Scaramouche resists for only a moment as you use your free hand to reach for his, squeezing it once before guiding him into resting his palm on your head. An open invitation, one that he doesn’t quite grasp yet as your tongue swirls circles that leave his breath ragged and hitching. It takes a single bob of your head, a taste of what he could demand from you, before he puts pressure against your scalp in encouragement.

“Please…”

As if he would need to beg. All he’d need to do is say the word, make the motion, quietly demand anything from you and it would be his without complaint. It takes nothing more than that little push for you to follow his demands, the flat of your tongue dragging along skin that draws a high-pitched, needy groan from him that feeds the odd hunger you’re feeling. But you want more - need it - and let him set the pace of his cock feeding past your lips and over your tongue.

Deeper and deeper, until your nose is brushing his pelvis and his fingernails are dangerously close to drawing blood against your scalp. It takes him a moment to gather himself, and when it does it’s with both hands on you - the one on your head, the other curled against your cheek. Craning his head, he looks down his body at you with a startling amount of reverence in his eyes, lips parted with the anticipation of words you’re certain you’ve been waiting your entire life to hear.

“I-I love you. I love you. So much-... ngh-... so much it hurts. I love you. So perfect, so beautiful, e-everything I’ve-” his words cut off sharply as his back arches, hips jerking enough that he buries himself to the hilt before letting you pull away. Every muscle in his body seems to shake with the effort of containing himself, the sensations manifesting as uncontrollable tears in his eyes that trail down his temples into his hair, matting it against itself.

“Pleasepleaseplease-”

Both hands are what you need to hold him still, pressing down on his hips until he can’t roll himself upwards into the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your cheeks and tongue in search of the pleasure you’re offering him. There’ll be more time for him to be greedy later, to use you in whichever way he pleases. For now, there’s a point to be made, and that’s only done by you holding him still and worshipping him like he demanded be done not so long ago.

“I-I’m going-... I can’t-”

Scaramouche throbs in your mouth, teetering on the edge physically and verbally. If he were any louder, you’re certain anyone would be able to hear him beyond these four walls. As the thought crosses your mind, so too does it strike him, as the hand on your cheek rips away in favor of slapping over his mouth to muffle the moan that accompanies him falling to pieces.

Holding your breath and pushing yourself to your own limit, you take him whole and feel his release hit the back of your throat in a handful of steady bursts that come in time with him bucking against your iron-tight hold. Even muffled, the sounds that leave him are akin to some celestial song, ragged in its desperation and beckoning you to suck him further. Moans turn to groans turn to whimpers, hand falling away as he all but begs you to stop.

You only do so when he grows soft on your tongue, his thighs shaking next to your head as his knees bend to curl in on himself. If you could get away with it, you’d hold him there and do it all over again, but a single glance at his face tells you that he’s spent. Red-cheeked, hair ruined, lashes thick with tears as he blinks toward the middle-distance lazily.

He barely flinches as you tuck him away, righting his clothes enough that he’s decent. Even as you crawl up his body, settling yourself between his thighs and resting your cheek on his sternum. On anyone else, there’d be a heartbeat thudding in your ears - but all you hear is the remnants of his labored breathing, your head moving with the rise and fall of his chest.

In a vain hope for the world to stop in its tracks, to give you a little longer in this moment, you murmur those magic words again. “I love you.”

Scaramouche doesn’t answer right away, though his hand does come up to curl around the back of your neck. He holds you there, fingers pressing gently against the muscles there, thumb moving in concentric circles that grow larger, then smaller. There’s no expectation for him to speak it again - once was enough. Once was all you’d need to hold on to for the sake of bringing yourself comfort.

But despite his greed, Scaramouche can be rather generous when he wants to be. His own proclamation flutters over you like dandelion seeds, like sakura petals, like crystalflies that dance along your skin.

“I love you. Centuries of life, and I’m convinced it was all meant for you.”

The years you’ve lived have been lost to time, their number far beyond your memory, especially after the tampering that happened while you slept for so long. But as he cranes his neck to press a kiss to the crown of your head, a subtle show of affection that holds immeasurable meaning, you can’t help but share the sentiment wholeheartedly.

#where you willed the moon #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #reader insert #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #mind the a/n for the content tags

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