How Your Friendship With Uncle Wayne Develops As You're Dating Eddie - Timeline (headcanons)

How your friendship with Uncle Wayne develops as you're dating Eddie - timeline (headcanons)

GN! reader as always🥰💖

TW for smoking (Wayne).

Munson family (Wayne & Eddie) taglist: @hellfirebabes @eddiemunsonshoney

How Your Friendship With Uncle Wayne Develops As You're Dating Eddie - Timeline (headcanons)

To start with, for a few weeks and months, you don't get to meet Wayne. He's the elusive uncle, the one who is always working at the plant by the time you and Eddie get back from Hellfire or a date. Eddie loves his uncle, anyone who hears him talk about Wayne can tell immediately, and it makes you extremely curious and excited for the day you get to meet him.

One day, you're making yourself and Eddie some food but there's more in there than what you can both eat in one meal. Eddie just assumes you accidentally made too much and figures you can eat the leftovers tomorrow, and while that's true, you also made extra on top of that so that Wayne had a meal to come home to in the morning. You leave a note on the container once the food is in the fridge, cooled. The note tells him what the food is, when it was made, and it's signed off with your name and a crooked smiley face.

One night when you're not there a few weeks later, Wayne asks Eddie about you. Eddie doesn't know where to begin so he just rambles out about how you are, how you treat him, your likes and loves, favourite music, and when he's done, slightly breathless, Wayne chuckles.

"I wanna meet the one able to make my boy smile like that."

Eddie's blushing so hard he almost matches the devil on his Hellfire Club shirt. Almost. Wayne wonders how many shades' difference there is. Decides he doesn't care because his Eddie is happy and that's all that matters to him. It's all he's ever wanted for his nephew; his kind, misunderstood boy.

It's decided that you'll meet on a night Wayne is at home; trying to meet someone new at 6am isn't gonna go well for anyone. You come over for coffee and a light chat with the Munsons, all of you camped out in the living room once Eddie is done with school and your own day, with whatever it is you do, is finished. Wayne sits on the lone kitchen stool (the one Eddie always trips over, even when he knows it's there) to sit opposite you and Eddie on the sofa. The TV is on but none of you are watching it; the ice doesn't really break until the first set of commercials, Eddie laughs at something and your breath audibly hitches as you gaze at him and the adoration and love in your eyes makes Wayne feel like perhaps he should look away from such intimacy. He relaxes around you in that moment, fully accepts you as Eddie's partner, knowing you make his boy happy but also that you genuinely care about and love Eddie.

He stands, offers you a drink, and learns that day how you like your favourite hot beverage; Eddie isn't asked because Wayne knows his tastes as easily as his own (the Munsons are not fussy and are closer knit than they may appear).

The act of making you a beverage is very much an extended olive branch. No one says it but you all know it. Wayne isn't a man of many words and his actions are where you'll hear him if you pay attention. He's not 'blink and miss it' but you do have to be aware.

Awkwardness between you and Wayne settles within just a few weeks and almost a month to the day you first met, you're friends. He makes you your favourite drink if he knows you're coming over (sometimes you'll get to Eddie's before he goes to school and you'll find hot drinks for the both of you in mugs; yours is always on the left because you come in that way and Eddie's is on the right because his bedroom is that way; it's logical and easy to remember for all involved). If you know he has a shift that night, you'll make him extra so he has a meal to come home to.

You were accepted wordlessly into the Munson family the first time Wayne saw you look at Eddie while smiling, but you don't hear that for yourself until almost a year into your relationship. It's not that you're left to doubt if he likes you or anything like that, but he just isn't verbal about his affection up until this point:

You find Wayne already waiting on the trailer steps as he smokes, blue eyes far away. You pause as you reach him and he pats the space beside him just once; if you want to, you can. Or you can walk up past him and go into the trailer. Your choice. But you love Wayne, you've been wanting to get to know him a bit more than the man you've always known as the one who took Eddie in and raised him as his own, and this is the perfect chance. Plus, you can tell he has something to say.

"Thank you for giving my boy a chance. I know my nephew looks dangerous - " you snorted lightly and Wayne gave you an amused look. Both thinking of Eddie simply being Eddie, and thinking:

Dangerous when??? To whom?

"Only to the sheep."

The familiar comment cracks the tension between you and Wayne shuffles over to sit closer.

"He's so beautiful, Wayne. I just... I tell him all the time that I love him but I don't know if he ever fully believes me. It makes me sad to think he doesn't know how - "

Wayne wraps an arm around your shoulder, sensing genuine upset at the possibility that Eddie doesn't know he's loved, and lets you lean into him. "He does know, Y/N. Give him time."

Wayne says nothing more and stays with you until you go back inside, then he carries on with what he was doing and that's that.

Eddie noted your moment together; he couldn't hear anything from his vantage point in his bedroom but he sees all the moments between you and Wayne and somehow it only makes him love the two of you more; happy that two of his most favourite people are getting along.

As time does pass and you and Eddie spend more of your lives together, things remain similarly with Wayne. He becomes your confidant if you don't want to tell Eddie something or can't for whatever reason (though if Wayne thinks it's something Eddie would need or want to know, then you're encouraged thusly), he's the one you go to if you want some company but Eddie is asleep or busy or unavailable, he's the one who makes you coffee and the one you make coffee for as you walk past each other, clinking mugs together in thanks, one leaving the trailer and one coming in as your day finishes but Wayne's starts for work...

Your relationship with Eddie and your friendship with Wayne develop at a very similar pace. As you become committed to a future with Eddie - whatever that means for you - Wayne starts to give you hugs, allows you to hug him, compliments you on the food you make and scrounges up food for you when he makes dinner for himself and Eddie. You truly become a Munson, in all ways and things, so slowly that you may not notice at first.

Until one night, Wayne makes a comment about the trailer holding three Munsons, and you freeze. So does Eddie, but he pulls himself together way faster and cracks a joke; the three of you laughing together becomes his favourite song. His voice breaks half way through the joke but no one addresses it; none of you need to. You all know what the conversation means.

Bottom line is, the Munsons know they all love each other.

I wouldn't mind holding your hand. I guess.

13 from creativepromptsforwriting's Grumpy Affectionate Dialogue list.

Cloud Strife x reader Fluff

"So, how'd it go?" Tifa asks the second you've walked through the door - it hadn't even closed properly behind you yet. Had she been waiting to pounce? "We don't say hello now?" You raise an eyebrow, shrugging off your jacket. You’d been dreading her interrogation - it had been a sleepless night.

"Hello.” She grins. “How'd it go?" She puts her hands down on the counter and leans forward as you approach.

"Fine." You shrug, going to lift up the latch to join her behind the bar, but Tifa is quick – shifting so she’s now leaning on top of it, blocking your entrance.

“You pay me to work here, remember?”

“And do you see any customers? Anyway, this is important. I don’t think you understand how rare it is to go on a date with Cloud Strife. Spill!”

You sigh, sitting down heavily on the stool. Really, you should’ve known that the brunette would be keen to hear every single detail…

You’d started working at Seventh Heaven nearly four months ago now. Before Meteor, you’d worked in Wall Market as a cocktail waitress, doing bar tricks to earn tips off a bunch of Shira employees. It was just by chance you’d been walking by when Tifa had put up the help wanted sign in the window. The two of you had got on immediately and your skills honed behind the bar meant you could really start straightaway. The first time you’d seen Cloud walk in, you were immediately attracted to him - the blue eyes, blonde hair, the muscular, toned arms on display... Who wouldn’t be? He, however, seemed very indifferent to you, though Tifa disagreed. “He’s shy. He likes you - I promise."

It felt odd at first when she deemed herself a matchmaker – Cloud and her shared an apartment, with two kids – Denzel and Marlene – she assured you they were strictly platonic and she’d love to see him without a scowl on his face. Apparently he was always interested when you were working, especially if you were on a closing shift. Now everyone was based in Edge, all sorts frequented the bar. You’d experienced the same in Wall Market and weren’t afraid to cut people off but it was nice to have some sort of muscle around in case anyone became a little out of line. You thought it was Tifa’s doing, as Cloud would always offer up his services on the nights you were responsible for closing, even walking you home afterwards. When you’d thank him, he’d shrug, saying not to think anything of it.

He was chivalrous, you’d reasoned, trying not to get your hopes up there was something more to it, until two nights ago when he’d lingered at the point he’d usually head off when you’d unlocked your front door.

“Wait.” You span round on your heels at the sound of his voice, surprised that he’d gone off routine. “Erm, would you… Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night? With me.”

“With you?” You’re stunned.

“Forget I said-“

“No, I’d love to.” You interrupted, worried you’d blown it.

“Okay. Great. Er, I’ll text you.” And Cloud had then strode off into the night before you could say another word.

He’d texted - you assumed he’d got your number off Tifa from her string of texts the next morning - saying he’d pick you up from yours at 7, that he’d got a table at a restaurant nearby. You’d walked past it a few times but never been, and it seemed a popular spot for first dates - intimate, yet not overly fancy. He’d arrived promptly, saying you looked "nice" and that’s where things had gone a little downhill. There was nothing that happened to really distinguish this as a date...

“He didn’t get within three feet of me at any time the walk there, or the walk back. I know he’s quiet, but besides asking me if the food was okay, he didn’t say much at all at dinner. And then, after he’d walked me home, I said I’d had a really nice time, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he was nervous, you know?" Tifa nods. "But then he stepped forward, thanked me and clapped me on the shoulder, before he strode off.” You lay your head down on your arms. “It was a pity date, Tifa.”

“Okay, Cloud’s more hopeless than I thought,” she pats you gently on the head, “but it wasn’t a pity date. He set it all up because he wanted to take you out, I promise.”

“He could’ve swung that big sword of his all around him and not hit me, the distance he was keeping.” You continue talking into your arms, your voice muffled.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No, don’t!" Your head shoots up, “That’ll make me look and feel even more pathetic. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s a wake-up call.”

“You’re not pathetic. He’s just shy. Plus, I bet he’s feeling even worse than you are. He was out before I even woke up this morning.” She pauses, grinning slyly. “I did think that he might’ve stayed the night at yours…”

Your face flushes at that. “What?! No. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” The door opens and the two of you look, you praying it's not Cloud. "Delivery!" A man chirps. "Enough about my dismal love life, okay?" You get to your feet and go to take in the stock.

You got home that evening just after 6pm, preparing yourself for a quiet evening and an early night after the sleepless one before. It was surprising when there was a knock at the door an hour or so later – you weren’t expecting anyone. You looked through the eyehole and were nervous to see the tell-tale spikes of blonde hair, a nervous expression across Cloud’s face. Had Tifa spoken to him? Oh, Shiva…

You unlock the door, pulling it open cautiously.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles, a little awkwardly, but it’s sweet too. “Sorry, are you busy? I should’ve texted…”

“No, not at all.” You curse inwardly, you could’ve phrased that differently, sound more aloof. “What brings you here?”

“Uh, yeah…” It’s then you notice he has a hand behind his back. It’s quickly whipped out in front of you, holding a small, handpicked bouquet of pink, white and yellow flowers. “I wanted to give you these.”

“Cloud…” Your eyes widen, taking in the display. They’re the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. “Thank you.” You accept them delicately, worried they might wilt instantly if you’re too rough with them.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Sure. Let me just put these in water. Erm, do you want to come in?” You step back in anticipation.

“No, I’ll wait here.” He folds his arms.

“Oh, okay,” you nod. “I won’t be long.” You let the door swing close behind you, still holding the flowers so delicately. He delivers you hand-picked flowers but doesn’t want to come in? Is he breaking up with you? Can you break up even if you weren’t together in the first place? You grab a glass, filling it with water from the tap and placing the small bouquet in gently, before setting it down in the windowsill. You wonder if you’ll look at them in the same light when you return.

Edge, like its predecessor, had never been a pretty city in the desert. In the early evening though, fairy lights donned by the surrounding buildings cast a nice glow about the place and it was quiet as the two of you strolled through. Cloud hadn’t been the most talkative, as usual. Sometimes it looked like he wanted to say something, a comment on the tip of his tongue, but then his mouth would close and he’d nod to whatever nonsense you were spouting to fill the silence. It was at one of those moments when you hadn’t particularly been paying attention to where you were walking, catching your foot on an uneven part of the ground. You brace yourself for the impact and the embarrassment, but a hand grabs your own, yanking you back and upright, another hand on the small of your back – Cloud.

“You okay?” His brow is furrowed in concern. Your heart is thudding at the shock of tripping, or maybe the closeness of you two? It’s hard to tell.

“Y-yeah. Sorry, clumsy,” you know your face is red. “Thanks.” The hand from your back falls away, deeming your balance stable enough but your other hand isn’t released straightaway. You look down at the appendage in question, Cloud’s hand firmly clasped around yours. His eyes follow what you’re looking at and he seems to realise as his cheeks grow flush in the dim light of dusk, letting go abruptly.

“Do you even like me?” The question slips out of your mouth before you can even think what you’re saying. He looks almost startled by the directness of it.

“I thought the date and flowers made that obvious.”

“The flowers, okay, but the date and just now… Like, I know not everyone’s keen on public displays of affection, but you don’t even want to be within arm’s length of me…”

“I wouldn’t mind holding your hand. I guess.” It’s mumbled, his blue eyes directing at the ground.

“What?” You wonder if you misheard.

“I’d quite like to, to be honest. I’m just…” He meets your eyes at this point. “I haven’t really done this before.”

“That’s okay, neither have I.”

He looks sceptical. “That can’t be true.”

“I wasn’t exactly surrounded by gentlemen wanting to sweep me off my feet in Wall Market,” you smile. “Besides, it means we can try and work this stuff out together, if you want.” You hold your hand out, hoping he won’t notice the slight tremor.

To your relief, he takes it, deftly lacing his fingers through your own.

“I’d like that.”

- Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

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vitzi9

2 years ago

Favorite Customer: Edward Nashton x Gn!reader

description: (based off of this concept and this concept) Eddie's picking up shifts at the diner where he's quickly gained a favorite customer who comes in without fail, every saturday. when eddie though, is the one who fails to show up one saturday, his favorite customer realizes how much they enjoy his company, so they make an effort to make sure they'll never miss eddie again.

content: crushing!!! so much crushing!! eddie has a huge crush. no real established timeline (can be pre- riddler or riddler era eddie, whatever your heart desires!), lovesirck, nervous, stuttery eddie <33 (he's too cute) this fic is pretty much pure fluff! no real warnings to be given :)

word count: 4775

a/n: i have had THE biggest diner!eddie brainrot since i started discussing the concept a few days ago... him as a shy waitier with a favorite customer who he just adores :(( TOO CUTE... so here's a short little drabble while i work on some bigger fics.

Edward felt his chest tighten as he looked across the crowded diner, an increased foreboding feeling filled the space between his ribs. His stomach churned with a certain disquietude while laying his eyes on the sea of people surrounding him. Chattering customers sat about, making more noise than Eddie knew how to deal with, their incessant ranting and raving filling his brain to a capacity that he could not stand. He let out a shaky exhale, desperately preparing himself for the Saturday dinner rush that had already begun.

"Nashton!" An unnecessarily loud call came from directly behind him. He tried his best not to cringe at the sound, Edward could spot the voice of his shift supervisor anywhere, he loathed the sound of her thick New Jersey accent, and shrill, scratchy tone that could only be found in a woman who's been smoking for far too long. Her rough voice alone made Edward contemplate quitting his own nicotine addiction, not wanting to end up barely over 60 and already sounding like he's decaying. But with the anxiety caused by shifts like these, he found himself desperate for a cigarette. His long fingers lightly grazed the front pocket of his work pants, making sure the half-empty package of cigarettes still remained where he left it.

Edward turned around to face the voice, looking at his supervisor with a big, lost look plastered all over his face. He did little to hide the nameless dread that swarmed every cavity of his being, his low-hanging head, and god-awful posture all alluding to his negative state of mind.

"Ya regula' is here sweetheart, table 8, go make ya-self useful it's too busy for ya to just be standin' around like that."

At the announcement of his regular being there, Edward's entire demeanor changed. Suddenly he's standing up straight, and his eyes are wide and attentive, he'd hardly even noticed his supervisor's condescending tone. An involuntary smile crept on his face and his stomach began to do loops.

"Y-yes," Edward nodded, an overwhelming excitement threatened his stuttering voice.

Edward began to make his way over to table 8, the anxieties of the crowded diner slowly drifting away as he caught a glimpse of you from across the room. You were sitting there, with a strained look on your face as you hunched over a beat-up notebook. Edward worried you'd be able to feel his eyes burning into you from how intensely he was looking in your direction, but he couldn't help himself, he was infatuated with you.

Ever since he started picking up shifts at the diner on weekends to help out with rent he'd notice you come in every Saturday. You'd always come in on your own, sometimes with textbooks, or notebooks, maybe even a computer. Over the course of weeks spent serving you, he'd come to find out that sometimes you would come to the diner to study and as the two of you grew closer he'd even on occasion helped you out with your coursework. Usually on nights where it was late, and the diner had gone nearly empty, but you and he still remained, you'd let out a frustrated sigh, and Edward would ask to take a look at your work. Edward wasn't always the greatest in school- he was smart but too miserable to ever put in enough effort to apply himself properly. But you, you gave him the boost he needed and he was more than happy to put in as much work as necessary to show you his capabilities. That being said most of the time he did understand the work you were doing, and he'd sheepishly look around the diner, making sure no one else needed his help, and once he was in the clear he'd sit next to you and try not to stutter too hard while explaining whatever concept it was to you.

Those nights were Edward's favorite. You always looked so cute with that exasperated look on your face, asking Edward for help. Edward sort of liked the feeling of someone needing his help. Even if it was just for some schoolwork.

But, regardless of whether you were studying or not, every Saturday night without fail, you'd come in completely on your own. Edward always wondered what someone like you would be doing all on your own at a cheap diner on a Saturday evening, after all, Saturdays were for having fun, right? He'd wonder if you were lonely like he was, or if you just liked to take time to yourself. Maybe spending your night surrounded by rude, rowdy strangers was your idea of a fun Saturday night.

He wondered a lot about you actually, even outside of his Saturday shifts. He thought about you often, he couldn't help himself. Your weekly appearances made the job worthwhile, your pretty smile and sweet demeanor were Edward's escape from the usual verbal abuse and beratement he suffered at the hands of most of the customers while on the job. You treated Edward like he was real, like he was a person, your quick waiter-to-patron exchanges were warmer than any of the treatment he'd ever gotten in his life thus far.

So, when Edward had fallen ill last weekend after a co-worker at his day job had come into work with a nasty cold he was absolutely devastated he'd miss his weekly encounter with you. While Edward sat home, sick, fever overcoming his body, he continued to wonder. He wondered if you even noticed that he was missing, or if you were maybe even glad he wouldn't be bothering you tonight. He worried maybe you'd like your server tonight more than you liked him, maybe you'd gotten one of his more confident, more "conventionally attractive" co-workers as your server and maybe the two of you really hit it off.

The worries plagued his aching head until a calmer, more appealing part of his consciousness took over, one that dreamed up a fantasy of you sitting alone at a booth by the window, completely on your own, unhappy with tonight's waiter, missing him. The thought of you even just recognizing Edward's absence put a smile on his face. Of course, it also made him feel a little guilty, he didn't want you to be unhappy, only, unhappy regarding the fact you weren't with him.

But now, Edward was back, and in good health once again. He wiped his clammy palms against the thick fabric of his pants. His thighs tremble under the firm touch of his hands. Something catches your attention and you suddenly drop the pencil in your hand and look up from your notebook. Your head turns to the side and all of a sudden you and Edward are making eye contact, Edward feels his body go stiff as a large smile spreads across your face.

"Eddie!" You exclaim the moment he gets within a few feet of your table. Edward feels his heart begin to beat faster as the sound of your voice. He can't help but melt every time you call him Eddie, you were the only person who'd ever called him that.

"H-hi y/n," He smiles, approaching the small table.

"I missed you last week Eddie," You lean forward against the table, resting your chin in your hand. You noticed. Edward felt his breath get caught in his throat and he had to try to think really hard for a moment about how to remember to breathe. The way you looked up at him had him in a daze, the way the soft diner light's reflected off your eyes, and how this lighting perfectly flattered your skin. Edward had never in his life gazed at something so beautiful.

"Oh-oh yeah, someone at my other job got me sick so I couldn't come in."

"Aww, my poor Eddie." You whine, giving Edward an overexaggerated pout, looking up at him with big, sad, puppy-dog eyes. Edward's head begins to go a little fuzzy, who's Eddie? YOUR poor Eddie? Edward worries he may pass out, but the thought of how embarrassing it would be to faint right there in front of you is enough to keep his consciousness half-working. "You're feeling better now though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah- i-it was just a cold."

"Good," You smile, "I'm glad, it kind of sucked without you here, I was looking forward to seeing you and all- I even brought this really hard crossword puzzle I found in the newspaper for us to do together." A crossword puzzle? Together? Edward can't believe his ears. He's sure he looks absolutely insane right now, eyes blown wide, and his usually pale cheeks a deep, rosy pink.

"Did you um- finish it yourself?"

"No," You shake your head, "It's still on my coffee table." You let out a small, soft chuckle at the end of your sentence, and Edward swears he's fallen in love the instant the sound of your stifled laugh hits his ears. It's only been two weeks since he last saw you but god did he miss your voice.

"Well, if you bring it next time I'll do it with you." Edward nods before once again wiping his palms against his thighs. His hands tremble slightly as he tries to relieve them of some of the moisture they've accumulated from his nerves. It doesn't work. Edward's eyes quickly dart from you, to the notebook that's open in front of you, "What are you studying today?"

"I was really hoping you'd ask" You pick your head up from your hand, 'Remember how I was telling you how I was taking that forensics class?"

"Mhm." Edward rocks forward slightly.

"We're studying the Zodiac Killer right now, and as a challenge, my professor gave us the 408-cipher to try and solve for extra credit, and, god, this shit is hard." You let out an exasperated sigh.

Edward's face lights up upon hearing this news, excited that he now has the opportunity to help you out with something he knows he's good at.

"Do you want me to take a look at it when I get my break?" Edward asks, trying his best to not talk too loud or too forcefully out of pure eagerness.

"Would you please, Eddie?" And there you go again, looking up at Edward with those soft, sweet eyes, and he's weak in the knees now.

"Of course," He nods eagerly. Just then he's startled by the feeling of someone's hand on his shoulder. His body flinches slightly, caught off guard by the sudden sensation.

"Hey- hurry it up Nashton, you've got other customers waiting." Edward turns to see one of his fellow waiters standing behind him. Edward's jaw clenches tight in frustration at both being touched and being interrupted. Edward stares the man down, a long string of expletives brew in his vocal cords and he bites down on his tongue to stop himself from saying something that would get him fired or even worse make you upset. His teeth are puncturing his tongue so hard that a slight metallic taste seeps into his taste buds.

"Sorry." Edward barely mumbles out through gritted teeth. Who does he think he is, interrupting such a moment? Edward quickly turns back to face you, your brows furrowed slightly at the waiter who'd just reprimanded him. "Oh-uh I should probably take your order. The usual?"

"Yes please," Your expression quickly softens to a smile as the other waiter leaves your presence. You hand Edward back the menu the hostess had placed at your table, "You know me so well."

"I'll get that to you as fast as I can," Edward says, taking the menu back from you, rocking forward back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet.

"No rush Eddie." You assure.

It had been nearly two hours since Edward had cleared the dishes from your table, and you still sat there, in that booth, nose down in your notebook. Edward stared at you from across the diner, admiring your every move, he felt a little creepy but he just could not take his eyes off of you. A faint smile grazed upon his small pink lips as your brows knitted together and you let out what seemed to look like a sigh.

The diner had cleared out substantially as the late-night dinner rush faded into the early hours of the morning.

"You can take ya' 30 now Nashton," his supervisor said, pushing past his shoulder with a mostly empty coffee pot in hand. He nodded in response, despite no longer being within the woman's line of sight.

Edward makes his way over to the dessert case that sits right at the front of the diner. He slides open the case and takes out a slice of pumpkin pie that sits on one of the shelves, before heading to your table. Edward places the glass plate down and it rattles against the plastic tabletop, before taking his place on the seat opposite you with no warning. Your head popped up from your notebook immediately as you heard the sound of someone in front of you.

"Edward!" You said with a small gasp, "You startled me."

"Oh- I'm sorry." Edward frowns, his cheeks flush, hoping he hasn't upset you too greatly.

"It's no bother," You shake your head, "Come sit next to me," you scoot yourself over in the booth and pat the cheap pleather next to you.

Edward is quick to get up from his spot- anxiously taking the opportunity to get at least a little bit closer to you.

"Is this for me?" You smile, pointing at the slice of pumpkin pie that sits in front of you.

"Yeah, it's on me."

"You're too sweet to me Eddie," You say grabbing the plate and bringing it towards you. "You want to share?"

"No, it's okay, only if you don't finish it." He shakes his head and puts up his hands, motioning that you can keep the pie to yourself.

"Okay," you pause, "Should we get started?"

"Mhm."

"See? You got it." Edward said handing you back your pencil. "And this shape here... this would also be..." His voice trailed off as he extended a long finger to point at a square-like shape on the cipher.

"L...?" You asked, looking over to Edward for reassurance.

"Exactly! See? It's easy." his voice full of nothing but adoration and praise.

"Easy to you Eddie, you're like... a genius." You giggle. Edward's cheeks begin to turn a soft shade of red in response to your compliment.

"Oh," He sighs and shakes his head, "Not a genius, look, you did most of the work."

"With your help Eddie."

Edward's entire body gets hot and he can feel your eyes on him, he can't think of anything to say, no words will come out. You sound so kind, so appreciative, it has Edward in a trance. He's almost glad that his words are stuck in his throat, worrying that if somehow, someway they were able to climb their way out of his mouth he'll say something dumb. In a weak attempt to escape your unrelenting gaze Edward glances downwards and while doing so gets a quick look at the watch that wraps around his wrist. The ticking minute and second hands instill dread within him as he looks down at their surface.

"Shit." He sighs, "My break ended 5 minutes ago."

You frown, "Well, I'm not leaving until I finish this cipher, so, I'll probably still be here when you get off."

"Alright," Edward looks back up and pushes his glasses back up his nose, glancing back up at you he notices a sudden change in your face, your brows hang lower and your mouth points downwards. He can't quite explain the way your look makes him feel but he knows its not good. Edward looks around, noticing the lingering customers that are still scattered about. It's not that many people, he sighs "I- I'll be around a few more times." He sets his hands on the table and nods reassuringly.

"Okay," You respond in a hushed voice, barely above a whisper. Edward usually loves to hear your voice, but not now, you sound dejected, disappointment radiates off those two little syllables and he's well aware he's the one who caused it. Edward tilts his head as he looks at you, the corners of his mouth involuntarily falling just as yours had done seconds prior.

"You've got this," he barely lifts his finger to point towards your open notebook, he gives you a wholehearted smile, cheering you on in an attempt to hopefully lift that frown off your face.

"Thanks, Eddie." Your lips perk up slightly in a small smile, and Edward is relieved slightly that he is able to make at least a tiny change to your disappointed appearance.

He wants to stay sat down, helping you with the rest of the cipher, praising you every single time you get something right. He wants nothing more than to sit next to you for the rest of the night, and he contemplates just saying fuck it and doing just that. But the rational part of Edward's brain knows he can't risk getting fired, can't risk losing this job, and in the long run spending an extra few hours with you was not worth losing out on potential weeks' worth of diner visits.

So, unwillingly, he begins to send himself back to reality, away from your warmth and delight. He looks back around, noticing that the old couple that has been harping on him all night is still sitting at a booth in the far corner of the diner. A long breath falls from his lips, wishing that all of his customers could be as sweet as you, greeting him with a kind smile and attentive eyes. But even then Edward knows no one could ever compare, he knows he would never get as much pleasure from serving anyone as he does you. You were an experience he could not find anywhere else, and that's why it pained him so much to once again leave you alone in this booth, left to try and solve this cipher on your own.

Edward slowly stands up from the table, his hands warily pushing into its surface, reluctantly supporting him as he makes his depart.

"I'll be back soon," He smiles, stepping out of the booth.

"See you, Eddie."

A brisk wind hits Edward's face as he takes a step out of the overwhelming confines of the diner, slipping out into the dark Gotham streets. He sighs as he leans up against the building, his fingers slipping into his pocket to fish for the battered cigarette package. His hand wraps around the flimsy cardboard and takes it out of the tight confines of his trousers, flipping open the top and taking out a cigarette. He places the long, slender stick in his mouth before placing the package of cigarettes back in his pocket, and searching for his lighter in the other one. The cigarette sits between his teeth as both of Edward's hands come up close to his face, one cupped around his mouth to protect the impending flame from the wind, and the other holding his lighter, ready to strike. A calloused finger flicks down on the cold, metal flint, eliciting a bright orange flame from the cheap green lighter. The soft glow from the flame casts a small amount of warmth against Edward's face as he lights the end of his cigarette.

Edward inhales the warm smoke, letting the cool taste of menthol coat his mouth and throat, his prior urge to quit dissipates just as quickly as the smoke that exits his mouth does when it hits the wind. Edward's vaguely aware of each inhale's toxicity, but people fill their bodies with garbage every day, so really, how much more harm could a cigarette be doing?

Edward suddenly turns around, startled by the rattling of the diner door behind him. His gaze now falls upon you, who's just exited the diner, bag full of books slung over your shoulder, ready to leave. Your sudden appearance catches Edward way off guard, causing him to stifle his inhale, the smoke getting stuck in his throat. The once comforting warmth is now burning as he begins to viciously cough, nearly dropping his cigarette in the process. You stand there next to him, a vaguely worried look on your face.

"You alright, Eddie?" You ask, tiliting your head to the side.

"Yeah-yeah," Edward barely chokes out after a few more coughs, his face flushed with embarrassment. Finally, he catches his breath and straightens himself out, and a more relieved look washes over your face.

"I finished the cipher." You state, "I- uhh- I left a copy of it on the table- right next to your tip- if you wanted to take a look at it."

"Of course I do," His face lights up, "That's good. I told you you could do it." Edward's free hand taps anxiously at his side, his fingers pattering at the fabric of his pants.

"Well," You look down at your feet, a shy smile tugging at your lips, "It was mostly you, Eddie."

Edward wonders why you're being so bashful, you should be proud of yourself.

"Don't discount your work, I merely just helped,"

"I guess." You shrug, "Well- I just thought I'd let you know it's there for you on the table, I didn't know if you're staying 'til close- but I'm getting pretty tired so I figured I should go."

"No-uh-yeah that's alright, I still have a bit left on my shift." Edward nods incessantly. "Thank you for letting me know."

"Of course Eddie." You smile, "Goodbye," You shift towards Edward slightly and open your arms. He freezes for a minute, all of his joints simultaneously feeling like they've just locked up. He needs to take a second to process what your open arms are inviting before he anxiously opens his up slightly too.

Your arms find themselves on his torso, just barely giving his upper body a squeeze. Edward is completely thrown off guard, you've never hugged him before. He wants nothing more than to throw his arms around you, pull you into a bone-crushing embrace, and show you the full force of his affections. But he stops himself, only wrapping one arm fully around your back, and the one with the cigarette loosely around you, keeping it stuck out slightly to keep the flame away from your body.

Even in your friendly embrace, Edward can't help but admire the warmth that radiates off of you. Not just physical body heat, but the way your arms hold him, and your headrests just gently on his shoulder, no one has ever handled him with such delicacy. He couldn't even tell you the last time he had a hug, years probably, and one like this? Literally never.

"Goodbye." He choked

He desperately suppressed the urge to tell you how much this meant to him, to get comfortable in your arms, to let you hold him there- but Edward knew this was no more than a friendly goodbye hug between two acquaintances. Your arms slowly pulled away from him as a small yawn escaped from your mouth. He couldn't even be disappointed at the sensation of you letting him go, the afterglow of even the simplest affection, was so heavy on his face.

"See you soon!" You wave, beginning to step away from Edward.

"Please be safe." He urges, unable to not worry about the possibilities of wandering around Gotham late at night.

"I will Eddie," You sport a content grin across your face as you turn around and walk away. Edward's gaze follows you down the sidewalk until he sees you get into a car that he presumes is yours.

He brings his cigarette back to his lips, inhaling, desperate for some relief now that his mind is once again moving at a million miles a second. The nicotine does little to calm him down now, still all too stunned from your sweet goodbye. If anyone were to pass by now he'd surely look like a madman, his body entirely stiff and locked up, smiling like an absolute maniac. But he didn't have half the mind to even care about his perception to other people because you hugged him. How could he ever possibly stop thinking about that? How could literally anything else in his life matter?

Edward quickly finishes his smoke, eager to see your work on the Zodiac cipher. What remains of the cigarette falls from Edward's fingers and onto the cold, hard ground below. He steps over the dwindling flame, crushing the cigarette with the heel of his boot and scraping the rubber sole against the rough pavement to make sure it's been put out. He anxiously steps back inside where he b-lines right to your table. The first thing he notices is a generous $15 tip, way over 20% for your meal. The sight of the wet bills sitting under a cup covered in tiny droplets of condensation brings a small smile to Edward's face, even though it makes him feel a little shallow.

Next to the bills, however, Edward notices a copy of the Zodiac cipher penciled out on the same notebook paper you had been using, on a separate sheet, the answer to the cipher, both of which he'd expected to see. However, Edward is slightly caught off-guard by a third sheet of paper, containing the same symbols of the 408 cipher, but of a different length in order, with a simple"Solve me :)" scribbled at the top.

Edward quickly realizes that you've left him your own cipher to solve, and he's even more excited now than he was before, just getting to see your solution to the Zodiac cipher. But now you're actually partaking in a puzzle for him to figure out? Could you get any more perfect? Edward's chest moves so rapidly, his breathing so present, that he's positive that it could probably be heard from tables away.

Despite all his eagerness to immediately drop everything and begin to decipher your message, he can hear his supervisor calling his name from across the diner. He gives out a shaky sigh, collecting the things from the table before returning to his job.

It's after 2 a.m. and Edward's finally home, his aching back hunched over his large wooden desk, papers sprawled throughout, illuminated only by a single, blinding lamp. He chews on his lip as he scribbles out the last remaining letters of your cipher before stepping back to read your work.

To my favorite waiter,

I know you love puzzles, so I wanted to try my hand at one I hope it's not too easy to solve, when you get the answer, give me a call!

The cipher then spelled out a series of ten single-digit numbers. Edward's pen fell right out of his hand straight onto the ground and his jaw went slack once he put everything together. Those numbers spelled out a phone number your phone number. You wanted him to call you. HIM!

Edward runs a hand through his sandy-blonde hair, lightly tugging on the strands as his fingers pass through in pure disbelief. Had his apartment always been this warm? His vision always been this blurry? Anxious fingers fumble towards his back pocket, quickly whipping out his phone. His hands are visibly shaking as he holds his phone out in front of him, typing the numbers onto the keypad. His nervous shakes causing him to hit the wrong number more than once.

Once he finally has the number down he sits there, staring at his bright screen reflecting back onto his face. He's lost, he has no clue what to do. You said to call him... but what if you're asleep? It is pretty late. What if it's a cruel joke and that's not even your real number? What if he says something stupid and embarrasses himself. Edward is at a loss, but he can't give up this opportunity, no way.

Edward screws his eyes shut tight, fuck it, he presses the bright green call button that shines in his face. The phone begins to ring, each high pitched toll feels like a growing mockery of Edward's own anxieties.

And finally, the ringing stops, the line picks up. Edward's heart drops down to his stomach.

"H-hello," He stutters into the speaker.

"Eddie!" A familiar voice says on the other side, comfort reigns over Edward as his body finally slumps back into his chair, "You called!"

467 notes View Post

vitzi9

2 years ago

I'm going through the most recent tumblr posts on here in the ao3 tag and it's so funny because it's like a family reunion but we're all the mentally unstable gay cousin

3K notes View Post

vitzi9

1 month ago

Try the Priest

Suguru x f!reader

summary: Your best friend, Suguru Geto, has a warrant on his head. You hadn't heard from him since then, and you thought your friendship was as good as dead. So why is he on your front porch?

Warning: angst, spoilers, imposing Suguru

AN: So, I wanted to try something new. It’s not heavily proofread or flowy so please lemme know what you think. Not sure if I’ll continue with a part 2 yet

Someone you’d considered your friend.

Went to classes with. Assisted in missions with. Fought alongside—taking down a variety of curses. Patching each other up after particularly grueling missions. Sharing many late night hang out. Staying up late reading shitty quotes from your favorite terrible books. Laughing til your sides ached and tears pooled your eyes. Braiding his hair. Telling him secrets you’d never shared—not even with Satoru.

And it came with the territory.

Doing your best to pull him up from his down in the dumps energy. Noticing him sinking deeper into his mangled thoughts. Hugging him and telling him you were there for him if he ever needed. Begging him to just talk to you, and feeling utterly worthless when you couldn’t genuinely cheer him up. When it seemed he couldn’t confide in you. When it seemed he didn’t think of you the way you’d thought of him. Putting those feelings aside, because you couldn’t stand to see him so unhappy. Bringing him food when it seemed he just couldn’t remember to eat—long-since losing the urge. His mind lingering on the taste of each consumed curse. In his moments of hysteria, when he was curled up on your mattress—so lost and broken that you hardly recognized the man you once knew—he’d would finally confess those thoughts swirling in his mind.

Suguru Geto was someone you considered your best friend.

But you no longer recognized the man on the camera before you. The pale walls closing in on you. Photos strewn on corkboard. The man, you’d heard, slaughtered a village of people. assuming the leader role in an infamous cult. The same cult who incentivized Riko Armani’s death only months prior. You weren’t the only one absorbing this information, but it felt so personal. His betrayal. His defection. His indifference to you and the others.

But, more than anything, you’d felt so very guilty. The man you called your best friend—your closest friend, hadn’t relied on you in his darkest moments. Not really. You blamed yourself for this. For the deaths of hundreds. The look of pure agony on your second best friends face when he’d heard the news. Your lack of intervention when you’d seen him spiraling off the rocker. When he’d utter the word ‘filthy monkeys’ under his breath, like a broke record sputtering out. You been the only one around him during those times. When he’d lost all that weight, developing those dark circles on his normally handsome face. You had seen the signs, where even Satoru might not have. But you hadn’t thought he’d form an outlet like this. He’d lash out like this. You couldn't have known. They were both grieving in their own ways, after all.

‘—SUGURU GETO FLED. IN ACCORDANCE TO ARTICLE 9 OF THE JUJUTSU REGULATIONS, HE IS NOW CONSIDERED A CURSE USER AND SUBJECT-TO EXECUTION.’

You instinctively tune out the notice. Numbness seeping into your very fiber. The cold, frigid air of the underground cellar surrounding you. You’d never thought there’d be a day, not even in the deep recesses of your mind, that the righteous sweetheart, Suguru Geto, would be subject to an execution order. Let alone become the cause of hundred of innocent deaths, and the fear behind many. You desperately wanted to talk to him. Desperately wanted to see him again. Ask him if it was true. If it wasn’t a ploy to jerk the chains of the special grade sorcerers. But you were also hit with the small, yet so present, urge to ignore it. To pretend you hadn’t heard it and assume nothing was amiss. That this wasn’t actually happening. And that Suguru was lounging at your apartment, probably hogging the space of your couch. Taking over your bed space just to get on your nerves. Scavenging the snacks you secretly kept for him in your fridge. Or scrolling mindlessly through his phone at your kitchen table, teasingly asking you what took you so long to get back.

But that isn’t where you were. And that wasn’t what was going to happen. And Suguru Geto was a notorious murderer at large. He was as good as dead, along with those he now associates with.

In the months following, you…survived. You’d often have Satoru or Shoko over, they surprisingly took it better than you had. Satoru especially pain closer attention to your actions. Likely in response to missing all of the signs with Suguru. Or maybe because he knew just how close you two had been. You’d often zone out for days. Satoru would shovel spoonfuls of strawberry cake into your mouth, insisting that at least it was something. And at least you got your calories. You found yourself mistaking their presence, on more than one occasion, for Suguru’s. Which would lead to another breakdown that’d require fussing over. But you’ll give yourself credit here. You’d finally,after several long grueling months, set into your previous rhythm. You didn’t require as much maintenance—feeding and cleaning yourself. And you needed much less reassurance—no he wasn’t dead, yet.

Then you saw him. The shadow of a man that had been impersonating Suguru, was now restored to his full former glory. You’d almost thought you’d saw a ghost, opening the late night knocks like that. Standing right next to your pot of camellias, holding a few letters seemingly from your mailbox. A small grin crossing his face, as those eyes lit up oh-so-slightly at your appearance at the door.

Feeling far to nostalgic for comfort.

He looked good. Healthier. Stronger. You wanted to feel scared. Wanted your body to match your mind, to flee from this terror of a man that’s been causing you so much grief lately. But your body just didn’t respond to him that way. Refused to.

You felt a sigh of relief leave your lips, unwittingly, as you stared up into those purple eyes. You thought you’d never see those again. You thought the next time would be when he’d be lying on a steel table, draped in white linens. No—not again. Never alive.

“Suguru” you say to yourself, words nearly a whisper, with disbelief coating each syllable. He nods at you, his lips never dropping that eye capturing smile. “In the flesh.”

You stare at him for a moment, not sure how to react. Why was he here?

“What…what are you doing here?” Your voice strained, and though you didn’t want to admit it, you could feel the back of your throat well up slightly. You knew if you were t careful, you’d revert to the you from months before. You seemed to catch him off guard with your word, as he looked away, having the gal to come off shy.

“Can I come in?” After a second, you nod, peaking your head around the doorframe—your apartments walkway, not seeing a soul in sight. He stood firm as you come within touching distance of him, cautiously peering the corners, before taking a few steps aside to let him in.

As he steps through your front door, you’re left feeling…small. Unbearably so. He was always tall, but you’d never seen him so imposing. The Buddhist priest attire, though not entirely surprising, was so new. So different. And all the same, it made him much more intimidating. You continue stepping back a few paces as he makes his way inside, before he closes the door himself. He carries himself to your living room, your floor plan memorized. He’d been there—practically lived there—enough times in the years you’d known him.

This wasn’t a man you knew.

“Geto, you shouldn’t be here.” He gave small acknowledgement to the distinct line you drew in your words. You speech painfully formal, your tone a pressed politeness. The only hint of irritation showing in his shoulders and the way his smile tightened. Your name—your first name, fell from his lips in absolute familiarity. “Its been a while.”

You stare at him dumbfounded for a second, as he makes his way to your couch, settling in. As if you’d invited him in for an afternoon cup of tea. His energy took up the whole room, looking so out of place. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was doing.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet, here I am.”

“Why—why are you here, Geto.”

His eye finally trail back to you at the sound of your voice spitting his last name out, so coldly. He’d been taking in the space, searching for changes in his surroundings. Searching for changes in you.

“I can’t just visit an old friend?” Your arms tighten around yourself in a self soothing gesture. Nails biting into your skin. You pull your gaze from him, not able to maintain the somewhat defiant stare.

“You can’t just show up unannounced. If they find you here—“

“Still worrying about me?”

“It’s dangerous for you to be here. Not for you. Not for me. You should g—“

“I missed you.”

The words stalled your thought process. The words ringing in the air, not settling properly. He wasn’t the Suguru you remember. He was entirely different. But those words still carried that familiar softness, the one he’d always reserved for you or Satoru. The ones that never failed to melt your heart, and make you cave.

“You…missed me?” The silence strung through the air. Buzzing. His grin grew at the hesitation through your voice. The confusion. He leaned back into the couch, taking a lax stance that didn’t fit the unwelcome atmosphere. Far too confident in your opinion.

“Of course I missed you. Did you think I wouldn’t?” As if he wasn’t a mass murderer. As if he hadn’t left you and Satoru.

“I…” you stalled again. Just what were you supposed to say to that? To him? After all this time.

“Why are you really here, Geto.”

“Suguru.” You stare at him, in disbelief, eyes narrowing. “It’s Suguru. Don’t act like you don’t know me anymore.” He’s saying this as if it were the most important thing in the world. Not the fact that he was a wanted man.

“I don’t know you. And I don’t know why you’re here. Leave before I-“

“Before you what? Kill me?” The words were a sharp taunt. He knew you wouldn’t. Knew you couldn’t. Your chest tightened at the thought, his words a blade pressed against your neck. You muttered out, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

And, ignoring you, he persists. “You won’t though. Will you?” The challenge there. “That’s not who you are.”

“You don’t decide who I am.” You nearly hiss, “you of all people don’t get to walk in here, acting like nothing has changed. Like everything’s okay—like we’re okay.” His eyes darkened at your words, and his smile faded.

“I never said nothing has changed. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. After everything we’ve been through-“

“Everything we've been through?” His words felt so thoughtless at the time, not entirely realizing the provoking nature. You were practically shouting at this point. “You mean everything you walked away from? Everything you destroyed?”

He didn’t even flinch. His voice calm and firm, “I didn’t come back to argue. I came back to see you.”

“Why?” The word burst from your mouth, raw and sharpened with each emotion you’d felt since he’d left. The thoughts and feeling piling up by the second. His words inciting another to add to the pot. “Why me? After everything—after everyone—why did you come here?”

His eyes remained fixed on you for a moment. Your shouting hadn’t fazed him in the slightest. He’d had to have expected it. You’re almost panting, each nerve ending abuzz. Boarding on another mental breakdown.

When he finally did speak, his voice was lower. Almost hesitant. “Because you’re the only one I can’t leave behind.” You search his face, desperately searching for a hint of deception. Searching for a lie. But this man was never one for lying, at least he hadn’t been.

Your voice comes out a whisper, shaky and somewhat wound up, “That’s not fair. You don’t get to say that. Not after what you’ve done.” You could feel the build up behind your eyes. Red, hot, and unwitting. You held back as much as you could, showing him no weakness. But you’d already failed in that aspect. Much like how you failed in the ending of your friendship with him.

“I know it isn’t fair.” His voice about as soft and quiet as yours now. “But it’s the truth. I couldn’t do it. I tried.”

The room was much too suffocating. Your eyes much to hot. His confession hitting like a sucker punch to the jaw. The meaning behind his words, shallowly beneath the surface tension. But you wouldn’t be reaching for it. You felt so utterly worn—which is such a shame since you’d finally been getting back to a somewhat normal pace.

Here comes this man, crashing back in and challenging your every moral—your very being once again. You mustered up the courage—mustered up the strength to set him straight. To set yourself straight.

“You should go.” Barely audible. Yet the silence of the room reverberated each word, clearly. His eyes tried to catch your gaze, as you made it you mission to get him out of there as quickly as possible. Save that sanity.

“Do you really want me to?”

“Yes.” You respond immediately, but it sounded so hallow. Automated, at best. Even to you.

“Then tell me to leave. Tell me to get out of your life. Now. Tell me you don’t miss me. That you don’t want me here.”

Your throat tightened up, a lump forming that was impossible to swallow. Each line he gave, more abrasive than the last. You open your mouth ready to deal that final blow—reaffirm those words, but closed it again. He watched you closely, his expression unreadable. For the first time, you’re coming to terms with just how much you missed him. Just how deeply you cared for him. Your best friend. Your closest confidant. Your high school crush. Your everything. There was so much left unspoken between you two. Were you ready to throw it away? Would you lose your standing in the sorcerer world and be exiled too? Would you be okay with that?

“I thought so.” He said, a hint of satisfaction staining his tone. You try to ignore the tears threatening to spill over. The thoughts racing in your head. You physically pull away, your back finally to him. You can’t stand to see his face, let alone handle this situation right now.

You loved Suguru Geto. And it seemed he felt something for you.

Your back stayed to him. For a moment that stretched far too long, neither of you spoke a word. His last words were left floating in you’re head. Had it really been as hard for him to leave as it had been for you? You found the love for him deep below the anger and betrayal. But that didn’t mean you could act on it. It didn’t mean things weren’t different now.

Pulling you from your thoughts, you felt warmth at your back, before you had even felt his energy. Your breath hitched as his arms enveloped you. He was so close. Too close. Yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from the comforting gesture. You tilted you head back, hoping to catch the expression on his face, only to find those dark eyes already watching you. He was taller now. Much taller than before.

“Suguru, what are you doing?” Your voice trembling, much weaker than you wanted it to be. He didn't answer immediately, opting to watch you longer. His grip tightened around you, almost testing to see if you’d push him away. His head dipped to the shell of your ear, “Just…reminding myself.” Before settling into the crook of your shoulder. The hesitation was clear in his voice, making him sound much more…docile than a man that’d slaughtered an entire village or taken over a destructive religious cult. You almost felt yourself stiffen at the overly familiar contact.

His warm, earthy scent filled your lungs, encoating you in its sentimentality. You’d missed this too. You’d missed him. Your body settled for you, before you could pull from him. Before you could think of why you should be cautious around him. And the thought flowed from you lips before you could even process the desire to carry on this conversation with him. “Of what?”

“…That you’re real.” Your heart clenched painfully at his confession. You’d been wondering the same thing the second you saw him in your doorway.

This didn’t feel real. Maybe another nightmare featuring yours truly, maybe you could expect a ringing gunshot through the room. An astounding thud. Only to find him collapsed on the floor behind you, his blood soaking your pajamas.

His head dug deeper into the crook of your neck, almost nuzzling—as if he’d seen your thoughts. But he wasn’t aware just how much he’d put you through.

“Suguru…” you tried to sound firm, angry even—

“I know.”

You let out a sigh. Were you even angry anymore? Was this sadness flooding your chest? Sympathy? Love? Desperation?

“I know I don’t deserve this. But for a moment.” His voice even and constant, before breaking. “Please, for a moment let’s stay like this.”