#I know there seems to be an underlying meaning

[letthelightshinein]

I think I'm being haunted by the spirit of that cat cos I made fun of how small he was. So here's another cat post because I'm having more cat related thoughts.

Luo Weizhao probably assumed that to Pei Su, he's just Some Guy. One that tried and failed to help him once, and one that he actually kind of hates and deliberately enjoys antagonising. Even as a kid when he's trying to look after him when he's sick, he seems to resent him being around. He has not taken in any of his well meaning lectures, which Luo Weizhao himself has always graciously accepted from his father and shifu, thank you very much. He gave absolutely no indication he wants him around, and though he comes over occasionally, it's presumably when Tao Ze is busy. It makes sense that Tao Ze gets on so much better Pei Su, he's so patient and good with children. It's generally better to leave him to it. Captain China has world saving business to attend to 🫡 I'll be there if he needs me, but he really doesn't.

When Pei Su shows up with the cat, he really does think Pei Su is just dumping it without thinking. I'm the worst option to look after anyone, I am not a good caretaker and I all do is work. I only eat instant noodles and I don't know how to cook. He knows this and he doesn't even like hanging out with me. I've definitely caught him rolling his eyes at me, he thinks I'm an idiot. He wouldn't give me something he really cares about. He must be extremely careless or he's doing this to piss me off again, I must put on my dad face and give him a lecture about Responsibility.

He doesn't know that Pei Su picked him with deliberate care. Because to Pei Su there's no where safer than to be with Luo Weizhao.

But to Luo Weizhao, he's had no indication from Pei Su that would suggest that kind of trust or attachment.

So it's a really big fucking deal when this guy that you have this long antagonistic relationship with suddenly decides to sacrifice himself to protect you. Cos wtf. Obviously things have Developed but still!!! It's all very shocking.

He asks the third question in episode 16 - why did you stop coming over? Luo Weizhao knows now that he is important to Pei Su, he's a smart guy. So an underlying question is, what changed? And if nothing changed then has he really been so blind to Pei Su needing his help for 7 years?

[crythartic]

Every now and then I find an artwork that I just can't help but adore. I absolutely adore your Chara drawing. I'm also an artist myself, though I'm unsure how to draw the stuff that I actually like. Do you perhaps have any tips or advice, some resources I could take a look at...? I mean it's fine if you don't, I know not everyone is able to always explain their artistic process, but I still have to ask, heh.

thank you so much!!! im really glad you liked that drawing. and its no trouble at all, artists should try to help each other out ehehe. you're right that it might be difficult to explain my resources, but maybe since you specifically asked abt the chara one i can explain the process.

this piece i drew it like its most traditional to, the last pieces (the p5 ones and kris) were all sketched out and rendered heavily using lasso fill. this time i just started sketching some charas to take a break from another drawing.. as u can see i had two doodles originally but i felt like i wanted the viewers eye to travel through more focal points, so i started rearranging the composition. i wanted a mix of cuteness with underlying intensity/terror, so i already knew the geno chara would be a bit more "faded out". thats all i did for composition.

now in terms of the actual drawing and coloring process, i always do a mix of lineart and lineless (for this both the lineart and coloring layer are at some point merged so i can "sculpt" and shape the forms and colors easier). this is a lot of trial and error to see what parts really do require lines and make it more eyecatching, especially if you are strategic with the line weight. with lineart you run into the possibility of making a drawing more detailed than you had envisioned, lately ive been trying to go for "less is more", so i forewent a lot of the details and instead i REALLY focused on making these doodles as "shaped" as possible, for better examples of this id cite my previous two drawings because the lasso tool lets me explore that more (less constrictive than simply drawing the shapes yourself).

and the colors? with chara its easy, they have a very restrictive palette so after i lay down the colors i try and find a color for the lines which plays off of said colors (blue seemed interesting this time). thats also a thing with me, i like when the color contrast isnt subtle, i go a bit crazier sometimes (feel free to check my older art out on insta, those deltarune ones are the best example of this). to explore color in a piece, layer effects are your best friend, and tonal/color editing settings. i cited this example on an insta story some weeks ago for my last drawing with how i left it originally and what i modified once i came back after a bit:

the decisions you make in regards to what focal points and colors you use genuinely and solely depends on your artstyle and what you like to draw. but experimenting is always fun, and id say necessary :]

i think this is good for now, if you have more questions feel free to ask!

[sanguinesky-if]

I absolutely love your writing style; it feels like every word and description is meticulously chosen. The ROs are portrayed so vividly and compellingly. This is one of those rare IFs where I genuinely want to create a unique MC tailored to each RO, because they all have such distinct personalities and don't feel like variations of one another. You know, there are some IFs where I only want to pursue a single RO, or perhaps none of the available options at all, even when the story heavily features romance. With yours, I genuinely don't know who to choose because I adore all seven of them! I truly hope that Sanguine Sky gets released in the near future and is embraced by a wide audience of players. Keep up the amazing work, my favorite author! Oh, and I just wanted to share – Morgan embodies so many traits I adore in fictional characters: mysterious, captivating, possessing a deep longing for the MC that they struggle to express, and having this ability to subtly control and manipulate situations. They're the kind of character who might keep their distance, yet you can still sense an underlying sharpness and danger about them. They keep their emotions tightly locked away from the outside world. As dark and closed-off as they may seem, they yearn to reach for the only light in their world – the MC. Thank you for creating Morgan. I hope that someday soon, Morgan will be mine completely – body and soul – within your world of Sanguine Sky. Lots of love 🥰🥰🥰

Thank you so much for your kind words! I know I say this often, but it truly means a lot to know that readers find all the ROs interesting and compelling in their own unique way!

I truly hope that Sanguine Sky gets released in the near future and is embraced by a wide audience of players.

I'm not sure about the near future specifically, as the story is quite large and complex, so it won't be ready for release soon [unless I decide to split the story into two books at Chapter 5, which isn't currently my plan].

It will take some time to bring it to its final form, especially since I'm neither a native English speaker nor fluent in it, which really slows down my writing process.

But I really appreciate the meaning behind your kind words, and I'll keep working hard to make this a reality!

I hope that someday soon, Morgan will be mine completely – body and soul – within your world of Sanguine Sky. Lots of love 🥰🥰🥰

Aww, that's so sweet! I'm really happy you feel so deeply about Morgan, and if that's what you wish, then I wish it for you too.

After all, my readers deserve the best, and no one can convince me otherwise 😤

Thank you so much for your incredibly kind message! ❤️

[luxlightly]

"If you're hurt by finding out that a person you admired did something bad or are worried about the idea they might, it shows you need to not form attachments to people you don't personally know."

I have bad news for you about how literally the entirety of human socialization and the human mind work. You can say "here's a stick from off the ground. his name is Stanley and he has a loving family" and then break the stick and people will feel hurt because they formed a positive connection to Stanley. Humans project attachment onto everything. Asking people not to feel connections to other humans is not feasible. It's not possible and, if it were, it sure as hell wouldn't be healthy.

You didn't do anything wrong if you feel hurt that someone you didn't personally know did something wrong. You're not parasitic or obsessive for wanting people you don't personally know to be good people. Being devastated that someone you liked did something horrible isn't a sign you liked them too much, it's a sign you have the basic human ability to form emotional and social connections. Your responsibility is being aware of those connections and behaving in ways that are healthy, respectful, and keep you and others safe.

Trying to just not admire people or not feel a connection to other humans won't work. Focus instead on being aware of what your relationships to other people are, what actions on your part are acceptable given that level of relationship, what actions are acceptable on their part, and what level of relationship it's realistic or healthy to project. And be ready, as with all things in life, to change your views on something or someone when presented with new information, even if you have very strong emotional connections to the subject. For example: "I'd love to get a cup of coffee with the celebrity I don't know and talk with them about a film they're in. I imagine that would be nice." <- normal human emotion "I will go to this celebrity I don't know and ask them, apropos of nothing, to get a coffee with me/I expect this celebrity I've never met WILL go to coffee with me" <- Unrealistic level of projected relationship. Crosses boundaries of normal human interactions between strangers.

"I'm devastated this actor I liked was an abuser" <- normal human emotion

"I won't believe that this actor was an abuser because I like him and therefore can tell he wouldn't do that" <- Unrealistic and unhealthy level of projected relationship. Unsafe for you and others.

You can't just "not admire" people, yes, even people you don't know personally. Instead, be careful to make sure your admiration of someone doesn't affect your ability to make judgements about them.

[vaguely-concerned]

walking through lucanis' mind prison. the tam lin of it all

[bookwyrminspiration]

if I see one more “Keefe has abs because he works out” post im going to lose my mind those are NOT synonymous

[brofightiscancelled]

ok kind of an insane ask so feel free to ignore but would you be able to translate "友達バリア" by deco*27? i can't find any translations online and i wanna see if i'm right about the song kind of fitting the matsus... it's also a banger imo

- vocamatsu anon

omg.... tbh i have a feeling deco will make a video for this one which means we'll get an official english translation of it, rendering this completely redundant, but i'm really cheesed to have been asked, so i gave it a shot for you anyways <3

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown I'm outmatched- but it's not over yet! I won't let this end! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

The despair of never getting anything more of this Your behavior, nor what's going on in your head- I can't read it at all! I can't help but envy the kindness you radiate Omnidirectional compatibility- it's just not for me

Carefully-picked down-played words The outcome: A bloody heart True feelings double-crossed by embarrassment; how frustrating, I'm changing sides But that won't fill up my heart What I want is nothing more than to be by your side If you've got something to say, then say it- 'til I defeat you, that is! 3, 2, 1!

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown I'm outmatched- but it's not over yet! I won't let this end! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

I want you to like me! I want you to like me! Friend-zoned, love fire, hey, say "I give up"! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

Fun things, good feelings- without you, they have no taste at all Sadness, jealousy- if they're cuz of you, then I don't mind them Let's throw down, bro! Better to regret doing it, than not doing it at all! A feeling like I won't need any special moves, YEAH I'm sure everything will be OKAY With an endless supply of love, you're undefeated, AYE Play dead, BYE BYE I'll be the one to throw the first punch

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown The lonely and timid me is already no more! With a dazzling, blazing flair, I'll burn through your defenses!

Do you like me yet? Do you like me yet? Friend-zoned, love fire, now, let's immerse ourselves in love! With a dazzling, blazing flair, a never-ending HAO sweetener battle!

Do you like me yet? Do you like me yet? Friend-zoned, love fire, now, let's immerse ourselves in love! With a dazzling, blazing flair, a never-ending HAO sweetener battle!

------

my notes:

my overall interpretation of this song is "I'm trying to break through the friend zone (friendship barrier) so that you like me instead of thinking of me as a friend", so any vagueness in translation went in that direction

The use of "lock horns" in the official translation snippet + the HAO motifs give me the mental image of like, a hand-to-hand kung fu battle, so I leaned towards that imagery whenever there was vagueness (as opposed to like, a military campaign, for example)

deco's official english translations tend to be very liberal, so i tried to keep my translation a little more literal

[imminent-danger-came]

how would you rank the ninja from worst to best based on the ninjago seasons youve seen?

Nya and Wu are the best, everyone else is the same to me

[snekdood]

i feel like u shouldnt be allowed to say someone has an ideology if they dont even know wtf you're talking about

[drewsephrry]

Love Island: Episode 2 - The Bombshell Effect

series masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 4.9k

warnings: cuss words

The fun and relaxed vibe the islanders had been building quickly shifts when the new arrival walks in.

“Woah! A girl!” Topper calls out from the kitchen, prompting a giggle from the newcomer as she approaches and greets him with a hug. Y/N, Sarah and Maddy exchange glances while Rafe, JJ and John B get off the daybed to meet the new girl. Rafe turns back to the girls with a teasing grin.

“Not coming?” He jokes, prompting them to get up. Y/N adjusts her dress, taking Maddy’s hand as they join the group.

“Why do I feel like she’s going to stir up some drama?” Y/N whispers, earning a snicker from Maddy.

“You’re probably right. My intuition’s saying the same thing.” Maddy replies as they follow the others. The islanders greet her warmly, introducing themselves with hugs.

“I’m Alyssa!” She announces with a bright smile. “Shall we head to the firepit? I’d love to get to know all of you!” She leads the way enthusiastically, the boys trailing after her while the girls hesitate before following.

As they all settle in, the boys begin asking Alyssa questions. It isn’t long before she glances around the group.

“Okay, so who’s coupled up with who?” She asks. Topper quickly wraps an arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

“I’m with Sarah.” He declares, as if staking his claim. Alyssa nods, her gaze shifting to Rafe, who is sitting beside Y/N.

“What about you? Rafe, right?” She asks. Rafe blinks, caught off guard.

“Uh, yeah. I’m, uh…I’m coupled up with Y/N,” He stammers making Y/N’s brows furrow slightly as Alyssa smirks.

“And how are things going between you two?” Alyssa presses, leaning forward slightly. Rafe glances at Y/N, seemingly searching for the right words.

“It’s still early days, but things are good.” Y/N answers when his silence lingers. The rest of the couples share their pairings as Alyssa nods thoughtfully. Later, the boys excuse themselves to let the girls chat with Alyssa.

“What’s your type?” Cleo asks curiously, making Alyssa pretend to think.

“Hmm…someone fit, with light eyes, that always gets me. Someone who’s fun but can have deep conversations too.” She pauses. “Rafe seems like that kind of guy.” She adds, causing the girls to exchange pointed looks. “Honestly, Rafe and Y/N seem like the it-couple here. They’re so close already and it’s only day two.” Maddy speaks up, making Y/N roll her eyes jokingly. Alyssa shruggs, undeterred.

“Well, like you said, it’s early days. His head could still turn.” She reveals, making the girls widen their eyes as they look at Y/N who turns to Maddie.

“Told you. Drama starter.” Y/N mutters to Maddy, who giggles, before turning back into conversation.

“Look, I’m not here to make seasonal girlfriends. I’m here to find love. If that means stepping on toes, so be it. You can’t expect to stay coupled up with the same person for weeks on end.” Alyssa leans back, addressing the group.

The girls exchange tense glances as Alyssa stands up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to chat with the boys. See you around.” She walks away, her hips swaying exaggeratedly as she approaches the guys in the kitchen.

“Oh my god.” Sarah mutters.

“I was this close to punching her.” Kiara says through gritted teeth.

“She’s got some nerve.” Cleo adds. They all turn to Y/N, expecting a reaction.

“Aren’t you going to say something? She basically said she’s coming for Rafe.” Kiara presses, but Y/N only shrugs.

“Guys, it's still the second day. I…yeah, I have fun with Rafe already and there’s definitely something building there, but if his head is gonna turn, I can't help it.” She says, her voice casual, though there’s an underlying tension in her words.

“He’s not going to go for her.” Maddy says confidently and the others nod in agreement.

“Early days, Mads.” She tries to remind Maddy, but mostly says it as a reminder to herself.

The rest of the evening unfolds with Alyssa effortlessly mingling with the guys, laughing and chatting as she tries to make connections. When it’s finally time to wind down, the girls retreat to the makeup room, giggling and talking as they remove their makeup and change for bed. Alyssa, however, is in the bathroom, mid-skincare routine, when Rafe walks in wearing nothing but his boxers, ready to brush his teeth.

“Oh, hey.” He says casually, grabbing and wetting the bristles of his toothbrush. Alyssa smirks, letting her hair tumble free from her ponytail and running her fingers through it.

“Hey, Rafe.” She replies, her tone light and flirtatious. She leans against the counter, her gaze roaming over his defined chest and abs.

“You good? Having fun?” He asks, voice slightly muffled from toothpaste as he starts brushing his teeth.

“Yeah.” She answers, her smirk widening. “You guys are fun. Nice. And very good-looking.” Rafe chuckles, spitting into the sink before wiping his mouth with a towel. She steps closer, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

“So, what is it you said you do?”

“My family owns a construction and development company.” Rafe replies, his tone polite but detached. Alyssa nods thoughtfully.

“Do you have a type?” She asks, her bluntness catching him off guard.

“Uh…not really.” He says after a pause. “I guess I like someone I can have fun with, adventures, good banter, that sort of thing.” As he speaks, his thoughts drift to Y/N. If they could go far enough to explore whatever this chemistry between them has to offer.

“Oh my god, that’s exactly what I look for too!” Alyssa exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “So…would you say I’m your type?” Rafe glances at her briefly before shrugging.

“Uh, sure.” He replies nonchalantly, his tone devoid of enthusiasm, but Alyssa smirks.

“Good to know.” She murmurs.

Just then, the bathroom door opens and Y/N steps inside. She’s wearing a pink pajama set with delicate lace trim, her tank top and shorts hugging her frame perfectly. Her wide eyes flicker between them.

“Am I interrupting?” She asks quietly, fidgeting with the ring on her finger. Rafe straightens immediately, relief washing over him at the sight of her.

“No, no, not at all.” He assures her, stepping aside so she can reach the sink. Alyssa gives Y/N a slow, appraising look before humming softly.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Nice talking to you, Rafe.” Without waiting for a response, she saunters out of the room. Y/N ties her hair back and begins washing her face. Rafe leans against the counter, watching her through the mirror.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice softer now and she nods, glancing at him with a small smile. Rafe’s chest tightens at her smile. He waits patiently as she finishes rinsing her face and grabs her toothbrush.

“What do you think of Alyssa?” She asks suddenly, catching him off guard. Rafe’s brows shoot up.

“Uh…she’s…okay?” He says hesitantly and Y/N raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.

“She’s pretty.” He admits, shifting uncomfortably. “But there’s something missing. I just…I don’t think I could ever be attracted to her. Not in the same way as…” He trails off, his gaze locking with hers through the mirror. He closes his eyes, scratching the back of his neck, before finishing his sentence. “…you.”

Y/N’s eyes widen as she nearly chokes on her toothpaste. She turns away, coughing violently. Rafe immediately steps forward, gently rubbing her back.

“You okay? Want me to grab you some water?” He asks, concerned but she shakes her head, still coughing.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just…swallowed wrong.” She manages, her cheeks flushing as she spits into the sink. Rafe chuckles, leaning against the counter again as she wipes her mouth. His eyes drift over her, taking in her loose ponytail and her now-glowing, makeup-free face.

“What’s that?” He asks when she grabs a small jar from the counter.

“My moisturizer.” She explains, with a hoarse voice. “Do you want some?” Rafe nods, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Only if you do it.” He murmurs making Y/N laugh softly as she gestures for him to lean down. He crouches slightly, closing his eyes as her fingers gently glide over his face. Her touch is featherlight and Rafe exhales a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“That feels…really good.” He whispers. Y/N smiles, carefully working the cream into his skin.

“It’ll feel sticky at first, but it’s great for hydration. With all the sun we’re exposed to, it helps a lot.” She explains. When she finishes, Rafe glances in the mirror, noting the glow on his face.

“Looks good.” He says, turning back to her. His eyes linger as she adjusts her tank top strap and his jaw tightens at the sight of her effortless beauty.

“Ready to head downstairs?” He asks, clearing his throat and Y/N nods, leading the way to the bedroom. They settle into their respective sides of the bed, adjusting the covers. Y/N shifts slightly, her leg brushing against his and Rafe’s breath hitches.

As the rest of the islanders head to bed and the lights dim, Rafe props himself on one elbow, watching Y/N as she faces him. He brushes a strand of hair away from her face.

“You don’t have to worry about her, you know.” He whispers, making Y/N hum softly in question, her eyes meeting his.

“Alyssa.” He clarifies. “I like what we have and I want to see where it goes. However long or short that is.” His fingers twist a strand of her hair as he speaks, his voice barely audible. Y/N smiles, her arm draping over his torso in response. Rafe mirrors her smile, pulling her closer. He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, the warmth of her body lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

The next day moves at a slower pace compared to the earlier ones. The girls lounge by the pool, gossiping about the boys as they work out and relax around the villa. Rafe and Y/N find a quiet moment together, stretched out on the couch under the terrace, getting to know each other better.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Rafe asks, his eyes closed as Y/N’s nails lightly trace along his arm, the touch comforting them both.

“Uh…I dance. I paint. And I read a lot too.” She reveals, her voice soft but genuine.

“Creative, aren’t you?” He teases, a smirk tugging at his lips, making her chuckle lightly.

“What can I say?” She teases, making him laugh along.

“What kind of dancing do you do?” His curiosity is evident and her touch doesn’t falter as she answers.

“I do some hip-hop, some contemporary too but mostly heels dancing.” She admits casually, catching him by surprise.

“Heels dancing? How does that even work?” He asks, raising a brow in disbelief.

“It’s this really sexy, technical style of dance in stilettos. It can be very challenging, but it’s so beautiful.” She explains, her face lighting up with enthusiasm as she talks about it. Rafe can’t help but admire the way she glows when she speaks about the things she loves.

“That sounds…I mean, I’ve got to see that.” He teases, grinning at her reaction.

“We’ll see about that.” She murmurs, looking away bashfully.

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He prods. “I bet you’re incredible at it. Especially that kind of dance.” Her nails pause briefly as she looks at him.

“You really think so?”

“I do.” He says earnestly. “And I’d love to see you dance. Anytime.” Her lips curl into a smile.

“Okay.” She whispers, agreeing softly.

“Yeah? You’ll actually let me?” He presses, slightly surprised, but her soft laugh and nod are all the confirmation he needs. He grins, satisfied, before pulling his sunglasses back on and laying back down on the couch.

Their quiet moment is interrupted by the sharp ping of a phone notification. Gasps ripple through the villa and Y/N sits up quickly, exchanging wide-eyed glances with Rafe as he follows her lead.

“I got a text!” Alyssa’s voice rings out, full of excitement. Y/N rises from the couch and glances toward the pool, where some of the girls chill in, Rafe instinctively placing a hand on her shoulder as he trails behind her.

“Alyssa, tonight you get to couple up with a boy of your choice, leaving a girl single and vulnerable. #maketherightchoice #steppingontoes.” Alyssa grins, reading the message aloud. Her excitement is palpable, while the rest of the girls exchange uneasy looks. The boys huddle nearby, their murmurs growing louder. Y/N glances at Rafe, the pit in her stomach tightening.

“I’m…I’m gonna go talk to the girls.” She mutters, her voice low. Rafe nods slowly.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.” He says, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting her go. His eyes follow her as she walks toward Maddy and Sarah, her bikini accentuating every curve.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” Sarah groans as Y/N sits down beside her.

“Did you see how thrilled she was to read that? She doesn’t care about any of us.” Maddy snaps, glaring toward Alyssa.

“Y/N, what’s on your mind?” Sarah asks, noticing the tension on her face.

“I…I don’t know. It’s just…I can’t control who she’s going to pick. And if it’s Rafe…” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll be pretty bummed.” Maddy shakes her head firmly.

“He won’t give her a reason to pick him. He likes you, Y/N. It's obvious.” Before Y/N can respond, Alyssa’s high-pitched voice cuts through the villa.

“Rafey! Can I chat with you?”

Y/N stiffens, glancing over as Alyssa grabs Rafe’s arm. He looks confused but doesn’t protest. He turns back briefly, as if to gauge Y/N’s reaction, but she’s already averting her gaze. With a sigh, he lets Alyssa lead him to a secluded couch far from the others.

“Spoke too soon.” Y/N mutters under her breath, her fingers fidgeting with her ring as she tries to suppress the unease bubbling in her chest.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” Maddy insists. “Rafe likes you. A chat doesn’t mean anything.”

Meanwhile, Alyssa is pouring on the charm as she talks to Rafe, her fingers twirling a strand of hair.

“When was your last relationship?” She asks, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. Rafe shifts uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze.

“Over a year ago.” He says flatly.

“Was it a bad breakup?” She presses, leaning in closer and Rafe’s jaw tightens.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Relax, it’s just a question.” Alyssa replies with a low chuckle, her eyes shamelessly scanning him. “You work out, don’t you?” He nods curtly, barely holding back his irritation. Alyssa laughs softly at her own comment, but Rafe is already tuning her out. His thoughts drift back to Y/N. He can’t wait to walk away from this pointless conversation and return to her.

In the kitchen, Y/N is slicing fruit for a smoothie when Pope joins her, sliding onto a nearby stool. His eyes flick toward where Rafe and Alyssa are seated.

“They’ve been talking for a while.” He notes casually. Y/N glances in their direction briefly before returning her attention to the fruit. Her hands move quickly, but her grip on the knife is noticeably tense.

“Are you okay?” Pope asks gently. “Maybe…put the knife down for a second?” Startled, Y/N looks at her trembling hand and sets the knife aside with a sigh.

“I’m fine. Just…you know.” She struggles to explain, but Pope nods knowingly.

“I get it. My ex, she was gorgeous.”

“She’s not dead, Pope.” Y/N quips, cracking a small smile despite herself and he laughs.

“Fair. But yeah, she always got a lot of attention. And I’m not the jealous type, well, I try not to be, but it got to me sometimes.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m just…worried.” Y/N admits.

“That’s fair.” Pope says thoughtfully. “But even if things don’t go as planned, you’ll find someone who’s perfect for you.” He pauses, smirking. “Maybe he’s closer than you think.” Y/N chuckles, shaking her head as Pope blushes.

“Thanks, Pope. I appreciate it.” She says warmly before turning back to her smoothie.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the villa comes alive once again, music and laughter weaving through the air. Islanders mingle, drinks in hand, their conversations buzzing with energy. Y/N sits with Cleo on the daybed, both of them laughing loudly as they chat, until he approaches.

“Hey.” Rafe says casually, drawing both of their gazes. Cleo smirks, rising from her seat.

“I’ll leave you two to do your little Bluetooth thing.” She teases, waving a hand between them. Y/N rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement.

“See you later, boo.” Y/N murmurs as Cleo leans down to kiss her cheek, then walks away with a knowing grin. Rafe takes her place, kneeling on the daybed before sitting down beside Y/N.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice soft as his eyes fall to her hands, which are busy twisting the rings on her fingers.

“Yeah.” She whispers, but her tone betrays her. Rafe frowns slightly and reaches for her hand, his touch gentle.

“Be honest. Did I do something? You’ve been...distant. Earlier, we were good. Did I say something stupid?” Y/N lifts her head, her eyes meeting his briefly before she shakes her head.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything. It’s just...I...” She trails off, struggling to find the words.

“You can tell me. Whatever it is, I want to know.” He squeezes her hand, his voice steady and comforting. Y/N exhales deeply.

“Alyssa.” She finally murmurs. “She...I’m worried.” Rafe shakes his head immediately.

“You shouldn't be.” He says.

“I mean, I get it…it's pretty early to close things off or anything and of course I'm not gonna ask you to do something like that. It's just…I like…how we are. The vibes, the talks, everything. And…I wanna explore this. But I can't help and worry. You know?” She explains and he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I get it. And for the record, I do like how things are going too. But…I'm not interested in her.” He assures her, his voice firm. She exhales softly, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“Okay.” She whispers. “But…what if-”

“She's not gonna pick me. I made it pretty clear that I'm not interested in her. Okay? Can you trust me on this?” He asks, grabbing her hand to reassure her. Her fingers tighten around his as she nods, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, everything else fades away. Her breath hitches when his gaze drops to her lips, but the moment is broken by the sharp ping of a phone. Y/N pulls back slightly, her eyes darting to the kitchen where Topper is staring at his screen.

“I got a text!” He announces. “Can all islanders gather at the firepit? #shitisabouttogodown #stealingtime.”

The group buzzes with chatter as they move toward the firepit. Rafe helps Y/N to her feet, keeping her hand in his as they walk. Just before they arrive, he gently tugs her closer.

“We’re going to be okay.” He murmurs, his arm slipping around her waist as he leads her to sit down beside him.

The tension in the air is thick as everyone waits, nerves on edge. Another phone ping sounds and all eyes turn to Alyssa, who smirks as she stands, her phone in hand.

“Alyssa, it’s time for you to choose which boy you want to couple up with.” She reads aloud, stepping forward. The girls exchange uneasy glances, but Y/N keeps her focus on the fire.

“This wasn’t an easy decision.” Alyssa begins, her tone practiced. “I didn’t have much time to think and I’m not sure if it’s the right choice. But this boy made me feel welcome and I really enjoyed the banter we shared. And I think there's more to explore with him.”

“The boy I want to couple up with is...” She pauses, the silence stretching. Sarah glances nervously at Y/N, Kiara’s leg bounces restlessly and Cleo suppresses a yawn.

“Rafe.”

Y/N feels her chest tighten at the reveal, her heart sinking.

“Oh my god.” Maddy whispers. Rafe looks at Alyssa, stunned, before turning to Y/N, whose face is unreadable as she stares into the flames. Alyssa steps closer, extending her hand to Rafe. He rises reluctantly, not touching her, his gaze fixed on Y/N.

Another ping breaks the silence. Y/N picks up her phone with trembling hands.

“Y/N, you are now single.” She reads quietly. “But don’t worry, the best is yet to come. #itsokayboo #troubleinparadise.” Sarah and Maddy immediately move to her side, guiding her away from the firepit. Rafe steps forward, trying to follow, but Cleo blocks him.

“Give her some time, pretty boy.” She says firmly, following the group with Kiara.

“What the fuck just happened?” JJ mutters, staring into the firepit as the others look on in stunned silence.

In the kitchen, the girls gather around Y/N on the couch, their faces etched with concern.

“How are you feeling?” Sarah asks cautiously and Cleo elbows her.

“What kind of question is that? Obviously, she feels like shit.”

“Cleo!” Maddy snaps, before turning back to Y/N. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N lies, twisting her ring anxiously.

“Don’t do that.” Kiara says softly, kneeling in front of her. “It’s okay to be upset.” Y/N exhales shakily.

“He told me not to worry. That he made it clear to her he wasn’t interested. He said she wouldn’t pick him. And yet...here we are.” The girls all stare at her with sympathy, wanting to comfort her. Before the girls can respond, Rafe’s voice cuts in.

“Can we talk?” He asks.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Kiara snaps, her tone icy.

“Fuck off.” Sarah adds sharply.

“All men do is lie.” Cleo mutters, shoving him back. Rafe stumbles and sighs, his eyes glued on Y/N who looks at Maddy on the other side. Maddy rubs her back as she stares back at her.

“Please.” Rafe says desperately, his eyes fixed on Y/N. “I didn’t know she’d do this. Y/N, come on.” Y/N finally looks up at him, her voice steady but cold.

“She wouldn’t have chosen you if you hadn’t given her a reason to.”

“I didn’t!” Rafe exclaims, frustration coloring his voice. “I told her I wasn’t interested!”

“Yeah, right.” Y/N retorts. “I don’t want to hear it, Rafe. You made me trust you and now you’ve ruined it.”

“I didn’t mean to betray your trust…upset you. I meant it when I said that I'm not into her. Okay? I don't know, she…she must have misunderstood.” He exclaims, Alyssa and the boys following her.

“She didn’t misunderstand.” Alyssa interjects smugly, crossing her arms.

Rafe turns to her, frustration evident in his furrowed brows, but before he can say anything, Y/N stands abruptly from the couch and heads inside the villa. The group shifts their attention to Rafe and Alyssa.

“Alyssa, what do you mean?” Sarah asks, adjusting her dress.

“I mean, Rafe was being nice to me, flirting, even. He never said he was closed off or that he wasn’t interested.” Alyssa claims, her voice laced with confidence. Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Alyssa, I’m not interested in you. And I wasn’t flirting. I was just being polite. That’s it.” His tone is firm, and Alyssa stiffens at his words. “I like Y/N.” He continues, his voice unwavering.

“I like how things are with her. Yeah, it’s early and she said we should keep our options open, but I’m not keeping them open for you.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving everyone stunned, including Alyssa.

Upstairs, Y/N sits on the terrace, absentmindedly twisting a ring on her finger as her eyes glimmer. The soft click of the door closing behind Rafe makes her glance up.

“Can we please talk?” He asks, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. She nods and he steps closer, settling beside her.

“Don’t shut me out.” He pleads. “Yell at me if you have to. Just…don’t shut me out.��� Y/N sighs, her gaze dropping to her hands.

“I shouldn’t be upset. We never said we were exclusive and it’s still early. But…when she said you made her feel welcome, that she wanted to explore something with you, it frustrated me. Because you told me you weren’t interested. That you made it clear to her.”

“I did make it clear.” Rafe insists. “I swear, I never meant to give her the wrong idea.” She exhales shakily.

“Trust is a big thing for me, Rafe. And it’s not easy for me to just-” She stops, her voice trailing off. Rafe reaches out, resting a reassuring hand on her thigh.

“I know I messed up. I should have been more direct with her.” His thumb brushes against her skin in a soothing motion. “I get it if you’re upset. You have every right to. But I want to make this up to you, to prove to you that I like you, Y/N. That I’m in this.” His voice softens. “I can’t promise I won’t screw up again, because, honestly? I can be kind of an idiot.” A small laugh escapes her lips and Rafe grins.

“But I can promise to try for you.” He finishes, the sincerity in his eyes catching her off guard. She leans in slightly and he takes the hint, cupping her face gently. Her eyes flicker to his lips.

“I don’t want you to feel obliged to choose me.” She murmurs. “I love spending time with you, but I don’t want you turning people down just because of me or because you think you have to.”

“Just…let's see where this takes us? Okay?” She asks and Rafe doesn’t answer. Instead, he closes the distance, pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens for half a second before melting into him, the kiss soft yet charged. When they finally pull apart, Rafe’s lips curl into a small smile.

“Promise me you won’t shut me out.” He whispers. “I need to hear you. Even if it’s just to tell me I’m being a dumbass.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

“Okay, Rafey.” The moment the nickname leaves her lips, Rafe tenses. He swallows hard.

“Wh-what?” His voice comes out rougher than expected. She smirks.

“Oh, that ridiculous nickname Alyssa called you earlier.” She rolls her eyes, grinning.

“It’s not ridiculous.” He mutters under his breath, making her brows lift in confusion.

“Oh? My bad, I didn’t realize you actually liked it-”

“No, no.” He interrupts quickly. “I don’t mean that. I just-” He hesitates, then exhales. “I don’t like it when she says it. But…when you say it? I don’t mind.” Y/N tilts her head, amused.

“Oh? Good to know.” A knowing smile tugs at her lips as she leans back and Rafe watches her, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

Under the night sky, they sit together in comfortable silence, the tension between them slowly fading into something lighter, something undeniable.

Later that night, as the islanders get ready for bed, Y/N heads downstairs and immediately notices the newly added bed in the room, her name plaque resting on top. She sighs softly, slipping under the covers and getting comfortable. Maddy walks past, pausing just long enough to press a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to her own bed. Moments later, JJ strolls by and stops beside her, smirking.

“You know, Maddy wouldn’t mind me joining you.” He teases. Y/N rolls her eyes, fighting back a smile.

“Go to bed, J.” She says and JJ shrugs.

“Well, I offered.” He exclaims before wandering off. Soon after, Rafe makes his way to his own bed, only to pause when he notices the name plaque on it has changed. His gaze sweeps the room until he spots her. Without hesitation, he walks over, leans down and presses a kiss to her lips before she can react.

“I’m gonna miss you tonight.” He murmurs, his lips still grazing hers. From across the room, Topper and Sarah holler in amusement, making Y/N giggle. She playfully pecks Rafe’s lips once more.

“You mean you’re gonna miss me hogging the blanket?” She teases.

“Oh, 100%.” He deadpans. “I love waking up in the middle of the night freezing while you’re wrapped up like a human burrito.” She laughs, giving him a gentle push.

“Go to your bed.” She murmurs. Rafe smirks, backing away slowly before finally climbing into his bed, conveniently positioned across from hers. He doesn’t take his eyes off her, watching as she shakes her head and turns to chat with Cleo.

Then, Alyssa enters the room. The energy shifts as everyone’s attention flickers toward her. Without saying a word, she moves to her bed and lies down, keeping to the very edge. She doesn’t look at Rafe. Doesn’t speak to anyone.

“Goodnight, everyone!” Kiara calls from across the room, sparking a chorus of sleepy goodnights as the lights dim. Just as the room falls into silence, Rafe’s voice cuts through the darkness.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” She furrows her brows, cheeks instantly warming, nervous for what to come out of his mouth.

“W-what?”

The entire room seems to hold its breath, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.

“For the love of God and for my sake, please don’t dream of Captain America tonight.” He jokes. Laughter erupts, filling the space. Y/N grins, grabbing her pillow and launching it across the room. It hits Rafe with a muffled thud, making him groan. As the laughter fades and the room settles, Y/N exhales softly, sinking into her bed.

Maybe Rafe was right. They’re going to be okay.

to be continued...

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A/N: a little late valentine's day gift for you guys, hehe

[kateschi]

two heroes, one marriage

synopsis: having stolen the hearts of fans with your teamwork and marraige, you and katsuki are called in for a joint interview.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the magazine spread featuring you and katsuki as top pro heroes has the fanbase buzzing for weeks.

power couples aren’t uncommon, but the combination of your joint success and explosive chemistry—both literally and figuratively—makes you stand out.

when you both get asked to sit down for a joint interview, it’s hard to say no, especially when the public can’t seem to get enough of the dynamic between you and your husband.

sitting side by side on a plush sofa in the brightly lit studio, katsuki bristles with impatience, his jaw clenched as the interviewer introduces the segment.

it’s a familiar scene—his fiery personality on display for everyone to see—but you can feel the underlying tension, the way his body leans subtly closer to yours for grounding.

“so, the two of you are recognized as two of the top heroes of the year, and fans are really curious to know how you manage your lives as heroes and as a married couple,” the interviewer begins with a polite smile, clearly trying to ease into the conversation.

before you can respond, katsuki’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“what the hell kinda question is that?” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he crosses his arms. “we do our damn jobs, and we go home. simple as that.”

you stifle a laugh, used to his bluntness by now. gently placing a hand on his arm, you intervene.

“what he means,” you say, casting a glance at katsuki that makes him grumble, “is that it’s about finding a rhythm. we both understand each other’s work, so we don’t get in each other’s way.”

katsuki grunts, his fiery gaze fixed on the interviewer. “she knows how to handle herself; doesn’t need me micromanaging her every move.”

despite his words, his hand finds its way to your lower back, fingers pressing into the fabric of your suit.

his touch is subtle, a quiet reassurance in the midst of his usual tough demeanor, but you know it means he’s keeping you close, watching out for you in his own way.

the interviewer picks up on the moment, nodding enthusiastically.

“it sounds like you both have a lot of trust in each other. how do you support one another with the high demands of your careers?”

katsuki clicks his tongue, clearly irritated. “support? we’re pros. we know what we’re doin’ out there.”

but just as you’re about to add something, he turns his head slightly to you, his voice dropping just enough for you to hear the change in tone.

“that doesn’t mean I won’t blow the ass off anyone who even thinks about messin’ with her,” he mutters.

you chuckle softly, nudging him with your elbow. “and here I thought I didn’t need you hovering around.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite in his tone.

his hand stays on your back, thumb brushing up and down in a way only you notice. “just ‘cause you’re strong doesn’t mean I’m not gonna make sure you’re alright.”

the interviewer, sensing an opportunity, leans in. “mister dynamight, you seem pretty protective of your wife. would you say that’s how you balance work and home life?”

katsuki’s eyes flash, his scowl deepening. “of course, I’m protective. you think I’d let her get caught up in any shit without me there to take care of it?”

his voice is sharp, but the way his arm shifts slightly to pull you closer is anything but harsh. “we don’t even need to talk about this crap.”

you smile to yourself, knowing this is as close to an open display of affection as katsuki will get in public.

his explosive personality never wavers, but there are cracks in his tough exterior that only you can see—moments where his concern for you bleeds through.

when the interviewer pushes on, asking about how your relationship works in the field, katsuki scoffs again.

“are you gonna keep asking this?” he snaps, before glancing at you, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

he sighs, trying to compose himself. “we work together ‘cause we’re a team, a hella good one at that.”

his little proud smirk makes your heart flutter. you decide to tease him a little. “oh, so you’re saying you can’t live without me on the battlefield, huh?”

his glare is immediate, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “don’t twist my words! I just—”

he cuts himself off, grumbling under his breath.

“you’re the one who keeps me in check, alright? so yeah, maybe i do rely on you. you’re my wife, and I am your husband. that’s natural! don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your husband huffs and looks away, which makes you giggle.

meanwhile, the interviewer chuckles nervously, clearly amused by the exchange. “it seems like you two have a really solid partnership.”

katsuki rolls his eyes. “damn right we do. we’ve got each other’s backs. that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

as the interview wraps up, you feel katsuki’s hand slip from your waist, but his presence lingers, as solid and steady as ever.

once you’re off-camera and away from the prying eyes of the public, katsuki turns to you, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “this interview crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “let's hope they don't cut you out like they did in highschool.”

“shut the hell up.” but despite his grumbling, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the studio.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 16.7k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation

series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter < spotify playlist

Who needs enemies when you have people like a shitty landlord, an evil woman who calls herself Satoru’s “girlfriend”, and of course—a deadbeat, horrible mother. A mother who cares more about herself than the baby she carried for nine months, the one who didn’t care whether you heard about her “special activities” that took place late at night when she thought you were sleeping, a mother who values materialistic things more than family. The kind of mother who’s holding onto you for dear life like you’ve just come back from the army. You feel completely disgusted, utterly infuriated by the act she’s putting on. You wish you had the strength to push her off immediately, but it seems that even time can’t heal certain wounds. 

How annoying.

“I missed you so much, baby girl,” your mother says, rubbing your arms up and down in what you assume is supposed to be a comforting manner. “What have you been up to? Oh, you’ve grown so big! I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes drift over to your right, landing first on Satoru. The tick in her jaw is unmistakable. And when she looks down at the much younger boy, blinking his wide eyes up at her curiously, you of all people know best she’s this close to lashing out. Her smile dampens, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

As if on cue, you bring Koji behind your back. When she peers up at you, lip curling in preparation for a tiny scoff, Satoru steps in front of you. 

His presence is an like immovable wall, his towering frame casting a long shadow over your mother. You don’t even need to see his face to know the expression he’s wearing—sharp, unamused, and carrying that thinly veiled amusement that only makes him more infuriating to people like her. “Ah, so you do remember me,” Satoru drawls, his tone bordering on mockery. “Was starting to think you might’ve conveniently forgotten.”

Your mother’s nostrils flare. “Of course, I remember you,” she says, voice sickly sweet, but there’s an underlying venom in it, a warning that you know all too well. “How could I forget you? But I’m not here for the likes of you.”

You bite your tongue, fingers twitching at Koji’s small body pressed behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know he’s peering around your waist, big blue eyes filled with confusion. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and doesn’t recognize the tension seeping into the air like a poisonous fog. And you want it to stay that way. “Why are you here?” you ask, keeping your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

Your mother’s eyes flick back to you, sidestepping slightly, and for a split second, something ugly flashes across her face—resentment, bitterness, something you’ve been familiar with since childhood. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by a saccharine smile that makes your skin crawl. “Can’t a mother come to see her daughter after all these years?” she says, feigning hurt. “I just— I missed you, baby. I wanted to make things right.”

A cold laugh bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down. You don’t believe her. Not for a second.

Satoru scoffs, shifting on his feet as he crosses his arms. “Right. And I’m the tooth fairy.”

The air around you feels tight, suffocating like a noose slowly constricting around your neck. You can feel the weight of the past pressing down on you, every horrible memory clawing its way back up, threatening to drown you. She doesn’t get to do this. She doesn’t get to waltz back into your life like she’s entitled to it. “I don’t have time for this,” you say, finally finding your voice. You shift Koji further behind you, fingers tightening around his small hand. “You need to leave.”

Her smile wavers, her perfectly painted lips twitching at the edges. “Baby—”

“Don’t call me that.”

The words come out sharper than you intended, but you don’t regret them. Not when her expression finally cracks, revealing the ugly truth beneath.

For a second, just a second, she looks like she might actually argue. Like she might lash out the way she used to when you were younger—when she’d lose her temper and hurl words like daggers, words meant to make you feel small, to break you. But she holds it all within a facade, eyebrows simply raising as a chuckle of disbelief leaves her lips. “Oh, so…this is how you’ve become all these years while I wasn’t around? First, you’re pushing me away, and second, you’re doing it for what? For…this?” She gestures to the three of you in a lazy manner. “Plus, I get to meet my grandson, do I not? That’s one of the privileges of being a grandmother.” The word leaves a bad taste in her mouth like she can’t fathom the fact that she is indeed one.

You feel your stomach churn, bile rising in your throat. Grandmother. The word sounds wrong coming from her like it doesn’t belong—like it should disintegrate the moment it leaves her lips. Your grip on Koji tightens, and you feel him shift slightly behind you. He doesn’t understand the reality of what’s happening, but he senses it—how the air is heavier, how your body is tenser.

Satoru, beside you, lets out a low, amused hum. “Privilege?” he echoes, tilting his head as if the word itself is funny. “You think being a grandmother is a privilege you’re just automatically entitled to?”

Haruka’s lips press into a thin line, her fingers twitching as she folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t see why not,” she says coolly. “Blood is blood. Family is family.”

You scoff, the sound dry and bitter. “That’s rich, coming from you.” She narrows her eyes, but you don’t stop. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you have some sort of claim over my son and I,” you say, voice unwavering despite the storm inside you. “You lost the right to be my family a long time ago.”

Her nostrils flare slightly, but she doesn’t lash out, doesn’t throw the fit you know is bubbling under her carefully constructed mask. Instead, she exhales slowly through her nose, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I see,” she murmurs. “So you’ve been brainwashed.” Her gaze flickers to Satoru, mirth pooling in her eyes. “By him.”

Satoru actually laughs. A full, genuine laugh like she’s just told him the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, that’s good,” he muses. “That’s real good.” Then, his laughter fades, replaced by something much sharper, much colder. “Hate to break it to you, lady, but your daughter has a brain of her own. And she knows exactly who’s worth keeping in her life.”

Your mother’s jaw tightens and it looks like she might slap him. But then her gaze falls back on you, assessing, calculating. You brace yourself for whatever she’s about to say, but somehow, it still knocks the air from your lungs. “You think you’re any better than me?” she asks, voice laced with condescension. “You think just because you ran away, just because you played house with him, that you’re suddenly the perfect little mother? Sweetheart, you are me. You’ll see that soon enough.”

But you won’t let her win. Not this time. Your fingers tighten around Koji’s, grounding yourself, and when you speak, your voice is unwavering.

“The difference between us,” you say slowly, deliberately, “is that I would never do to my son what you did to me.”

A flicker of something—shock?—crosses her face. Then, she steps back, smoothing a hand over her coat like she’s wiping something unpleasant off of her.

“Well.” Her tone is clipped, her posture stiff. “I suppose we’ll just have to see about that.”

“I’m no—”

“But look at this!” Her arms widen as she steps back, a dramatic sweep of her gaze taking in the lingering eyes and hushed whispers of the other families. Some look away quickly, feigning disinterest, while others openly stare, their curiosity outweighing their manners. You swallow hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. The attention prickles against your skin like a thousand tiny needles, suffocating and unrelenting. “It’s truly such a picture-perfect scene,” your mother continues, her voice dripping with mockery. “A loving man, a beautiful child, and you, playing the devoted mother.” She tilts her head, eyes gleaming with something cruel. “Tell me, do you ever stop to wonder when it’ll all fall apart?”

Satoru shifts beside you, his jaw tightening. You can feel the protective energy radiating off of him, the way he’s this close to stepping in and shutting her down. But you don’t want him to—not yet.

Because she’s wrong.

Because she doesn’t get to do this. Not anymore.

You take a deep breath, straightening your spine. “You don’t know anything about my life,” you say, voice steady despite the fire burning in your chest. “And you sure as hell don’t get to stand here and act like you do.”

Your mother clicks her tongue, unimpressed. “I know enough,” she muses, her gaze flicking back to Koji. You immediately shift, shielding him with your body.

Her lips curl into a smirk. “You can try to keep him away from me all you want. But at the end of the day, you’ll realize that blood isn’t something you can run from. Besides Y/N, I still love you, I always have and always will.”

The words hang in the air like a death sentence.

Koji, sensing the tension, clings to your leg, small fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. You don’t dare look down at him, don’t want to acknowledge just how much of this he’s absorbing. Satoru exhales sharply, patience finally wearing thin. “I think we’re done here,” he says, voice clipped, his hand resting firmly on your lower back. A quiet but undeniable claim. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, he’s ushering you and Koji to his car, pushing past your mother who stumbles back a bit on her two feet. She scoffs and stares daggers into your heads, but neither you nor Satoru look back. Wordlessly, he’s opening the passenger door for you, opening the back for Koji, and helping him get into his booster seat. He closes both doors with finality, rounding the car and going to the driver’s side. Before he opens it, he looks back over at Haruka. “You stay away from all of us. I have a good set of lawyers.”

“Is that a threat?” She calls out.

“It’s a promise,” is all he says before getting in and shutting the door. He’s quickly starting the car and driving you both away from the mess your mother’s arrival had made. Quiet envelops the interior of the car. Koji peering at his father and then you, biting his lip and swinging his feet back and forth in an antsy way. “Mama, why did the woman look like you? Is she grandma?”

But you don’t say anything. Focusing on the loose thread of your coat sleeve, fingers clenched tightly. Your body is stiff as a board like it’s anticipating something. Satoru peeks at you from the corner of his eye and after he assesses you won’t be saying anything, he looks forward. “She is.”

Koji tilts his head, his brows furrowing in confusion. “But… you don’t like her?”

Still, you don’t answer. Your fingers curl around the loose thread, twisting it between your thumb and forefinger. Your pulse is loud in your ears, drowning out the steady hum of the engine.

Satoru’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “No,” he says simply. “Mama doesn’t.”

Koji goes quiet for a moment, digesting the information in his small way. Then, with the kind of innocence only a child could possess, he mumbles, “Then I don’t like her either.”

Something inside you clenches painfully, but still, you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

Satoru sighs, reaching out with one hand to gently squeeze your thigh, fingers firm but reassuring. It’s not much, but it’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you’re here, in the present—not trapped in memories you don’t want to relive. “She’s not gonna bother us,” Satoru murmurs, eyes flicking toward you again. “I won’t let her.”

You want to believe him.

You need to believe him.

But as the car speeds down the road, your heart tells you otherwise. Your mother never shows up without a reason. And whatever she wants this time…

It won’t be simple.

“I…I don’t know what she could possibly want from me,” you mutter shakily, face screwing up at the familiar burn of tears at your eyelids. 

“Don’t worry about that, don’t worry about anything. She’s not going to bother you and if she does, I’m right here.” His thumbs are small, soft back and forth motions on your thigh. The gesture brings you a tiny sense of serenity. In other circumstances, you would’ve pushed him away and told him not to do that anymore. However, you find yourself doing the opposite. Dwelling in his touch, hesitantly putting your hand on top of the back of his. His palm turns upright and carefully intertwines your fingers with his. 

Your heart does somersaults. 

He brings your hand up over to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “She’s wrong, you know,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, meant only for you.

You gulp. “...about what?”

“Everything.” 

The word lingers between you, settling into the silence like a whisper of reassurance, a promise unspoken yet deeply felt.

Everything.

That you’re like her. That you’ll turn into her. That you’re anything less than the mother Koji deserves, the woman he—Satoru—still sees beneath all the walls you’ve built. Your fingers twitch against his, gripping just a little tighter. The warmth of his hand is grounding, pulling you away from the storm inside your head. You inhale slowly, trying to steady your trembling chest, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. Your head turns towards the window, biting down on a quivering lip as the car comes to a halt at a red light.

Koji—truly unaware of the depth of the moment passing between his parents, but still trying to integrate himself somehow. “Papa, are we going home?”

Satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you when he answers.

“Yeah, kid,” he says, squeezing your hand. “We’re going home.”

“This is my son, Satoru.” Yamato’s voice greets the pair of father and son as they enter the conference room. They shake hands and Yamato sits back down next to Satoru, who’s currently leaning back in his seat with a blank look, swiveling from side to side. Yamato nudges his son’s foot under the table in silent command.

“Nice to meet you,” Satoru says, still not rising from his seat.

“Nice to meet you, this is my daughter, Himari.”

Kenji ushers his daughter to sit down next to him, both of them across from Yamato and Satoru. Already, he’s dreading this. In typical boy nature, his eyes rake up and down the girl sending him a coy smile, biting the inside of his cheek in confliction. Sure, she’s pretty. Brown hair, pretty brown eyes, a slender figure, a nice glow to her complexion. But she’s not you. It’s only been a year and a half and Satoru still can’t rid his mind of you. Certain scents, music, and places, they all remind him of you. He’s not sure if he hates it. His father, ever the businessman, has sprouted the seed in his ear about him moving on and that his “friend’s” daughter is single. He always brushed him off, but of course, he can’t run away from his duties forever. 

Her lips don’t even look twice as delicious as yours did. 

Still, Satoru plasters on a charming—if not slightly detached—smile as Himari tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, feigning shyness. He knows this game, knows the expectations that sit heavily between their fathers, silent yet thunderous. Himari tilts her head slightly, watching him with interest. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Satoru,” she says smoothly, her voice pleasant but calculated. “Our fathers talk about you a lot.”

Satoru leans back further in his chair, legs spreading just enough to make himself comfortable but not enough to look sloppy. His father would kill him for that. “All good things, I hope.”

Kenji lets out a good-natured chuckle. “Of course. Himari’s been quite interested in meeting you, you know.”

“Oh?” His gaze flickers to her, catching the way she twirls a ring around her finger. Flirtation, subtle and practiced.

He can already tell what this is—what they expect. A business transaction wrapped in tradition and expectation, sealed with marriage papers. A pretty wife from a good family, one that would benefit them both. But Satoru has never been one to follow a script. His mind drifts, unbidden, to you. To how you never needed to be calculated to get his attention, to how your laughter wasn’t poised but effortless, how you never looked at him with an agenda, only with love. That’s what’s missing here. That’s why his chest feels tight, why the scent of jasmine perfume instead of your lingering marshmallow, floraly makes his stomach churn. Because no matter how pretty Himari is, no matter how perfectly poised she sits across from him, she isn’t you.

And she never will be.

The rest of the conversation flowed in one ear and out the other. The only thing keeping him somewhat grounded to Earth was the feel of her foot playfully caressing his leg up and down under the table. The first time it happened, he cleared his throat in awkwardness, shifting in his seat in hopes she’d get the memo. Instead, she only moves her chair closer to the table, extending her leg out slightly more. Yep, pushy.

“....as I was saying before, Yamato. Tenka Couture can give the Gojo Group exactly what they need. We can help you expand into the fashion and entertainment markets. Even international ones. Together, we can both strive globally.”

Kenji's voice carries on, confident and smooth, but Satoru barely registers a word. His fingers drum against the polished mahogany table, his expression unreadable as he feels Himari's foot trail further up his leg. He exhales sharply through his nose, schooling his face into neutrality. If his father notices his discomfort, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Yamato is far too focused on the conversation at hand, nodding along as Kenji lists off strategic benefits, figures, and projections. Satoru flicks a glance at Himari. She’s watching him through her lashes, lips curled into a knowing smirk. She’s enjoying this—enjoying testing him, enjoying the idea that she has any sort of power over him.

It grates on his nerves.

His mind drifts again.

Would you have done this? No—definitely not like this. You were never one for games, never one to wrap yourself in artifice. When you touched him, it wasn’t planned. It was because you wanted to. Because you loved him. And yet, here he is, sitting across from someone who doesn’t even know him, who only wants what he represents.

He sighs, his patience wearing thin. “Sounds like a great deal,” Yamato replies, leaning forward. “But tell me, Kenji—what exactly is the catch?”

“Well,” Kenji chuckles and laces his fingers together. “Of course, I believe the best way to go about this is through our children. Although I know this is the modern era and I don’t wish to put a rush on things, I think it would be best if my lovely daughter married within at least…ten years. It gives them enough time to get acquainted with one another, and us enough time to grow closer as businesses.” 

Satoru feels his stomach turn. Marriage. Of course, that’s what this is really about. It was never just about business—it was about leverage. About power. About cementing alliances in the most permanent way possible. His grip tightens on the armrest of his chair, fingers digging into the fabric. Himari’s smirk only widens, like she’s already won, like she knows he won’t fight it.

Because what choice does he have?

Yamato doesn’t even hesitate. “That’s a reasonable timeline,” he muses, nodding. “It allows them to build a solid foundation, get used to each other. I think it’s a wise decision. But if you don’t keep up your end of this deal, there will be consequences.”

Satoru’s jaw ticks. Ten years. Ten years of forced interactions, of pretending, of playing the role his father expects of him. Ten years of being bound to someone who is nothing more than a stranger. Ten years without you. Kenji leans back in his chair, satisfied. “Of course, it’s all up to them in the end. But I trust that with time, they’ll see the benefits of this arrangement.”

Himari finally pulls her foot away from his leg, but the ghost of her touch lingers like an itch he can’t scratch. Satoru exhales slowly, forcing himself to stay composed. He knows how this game works. Knows his father expects compliance, and knows he has to play along—for now. But deep down, something in him burns. Because you’re still out there. Because despite everything, despite time and distance, he knows exactly who he wants.

And it isn’t her.

But despite everything, he found himself wrapped in her sheets exactly one week from the dreaded meeting. The sex was okay, but he couldn’t stop your face. The days passed on in a slow manner, and over that course, he was slowly beginning to heal from you and your guys’ relationship. He stopped feeling guilty for being intimate with another woman and he was able to visit that cute cafe you loved so much without feeling nauseous as soon as he stepped in. However, he didn’t even actually make it official with Himari until he just turned 27. 

He remembers a conversation with Himari. 

“I want a lot of children.”

Satoru had merely hummed in response, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he leaned back into the plush seat of the lounge they were in. It was late, the warm glow of the ambient lighting casting soft shadows over Himari’s face. She looked expectant, eyes searching his for a reaction.

“You do?” he finally said, taking a slow sip.

“Yes,” she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “At least three or four. I want a big family.”

He glanced at her over the rim of his glass, expression unreadable.

“I just think it’s important, you know? Family. My parents worked so hard to build what we have, and I want to continue that. Raise my children in a secure environment, with traditions, stability…” She paused, tilting her head. “Don’t you?”

Satoru’s grip on his glass tightened.

Once upon a time, he might have said yes. Might have dreamed about what it would be like to have a family of his own. But that was before. Before he learned that love wasn’t enough to keep someone from leaving. Before he learned that no matter how tightly he held onto something, it could still slip through his fingers. Back then, he had imagined forever with someone.

Now, he wasn’t sure he even believed in the word.

So instead, he just offered a half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, swirling the last remnants of his drink. “That sounds nice.” Himari beamed, satisfied, but Satoru only glanced away, gaze settling on the ice melting in his glass.

He’s always thought back to that conversation. Did he want kids? Did he want a big family? Hell, he doesn’t even know. 

But now, as he watches you and his only son curled up on the couch together, holding each other as you both sleep peacefully. He can still make out the redness around your eyes from your earlier crying session while Koji was busy playing with his toys. Comforting you felt easy to him—like second nature. And you welcomed his words, his hug, even the very small, faint kiss he planted on your temple. 

He feels a little bit like a creep just watching you guys sleep. But now, the answer has come to him. 

He wants a big family with you. He’ll quite literally die from happiness overload if you have more of his kids. Maybe the next one will look more like you?

His face scrunches up, holding his chest and falling back onto the free cushion of the couch. It feels like his heart is being squeezed, in a good and bad way—like something warm and unbearable all at once. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling slowly through his nose. It’s stupid to never realize just how much he’s always wanted this. A family. A home. Something real, something his. And now that he knows it’s possible, now that he has Koji, has you back in his life in some fragile, complicated way, the thought of losing it again makes his stomach twist.

He turns his head, watching the slow, even rise and fall of your breaths. Koji is nestled against you, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. His son. His.

Satoru lifts a hand to his chest, pressing his palm over the ache. He thinks of all the years he missed, all the moments he could have had. First words, first steps, birthdays, bedtime stories—things that should have been his to witness. He should be angry. Maybe he still is. But right now, he just feels...overwhelmed.

A soft noise leaves your lips as you shift slightly in your sleep, your brow twitching like you’re dreaming. Without thinking, he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger a second too long before he pulls back, swallowing hard.

God, he’s so fucked.

Because now that he knows what he wants—now that he knows he wants this family with you—he has no idea how to keep it. Or if you even feel the same way. But the way your face relaxes ever so slightly, subconsciously leaning into his touch, he starts to believe that he may not be the only one.

“So, are you going to be putting your two weeks in?”

“What? I mean, I haven’t been looking at other jobs yet.”

Hana hums silently, cleaning the counter. Your brows furrow in confusion at her behavior. She’s not being outwardly rude, but you can sense something is still on her mind. “You’re not…upset I’m moving, are you? We talked about this.”

Hana lets out a soft sigh, setting the cloth down before turning to face you fully. “I know we did,” she says, crossing her arms. “But talking about it and actually seeing it happen are two different things, you know?”

You tilt your head, watching her carefully. “I thought you were happy for me.”

“I am,” she insists, but there’s something tight about the way she says it. “It’s just… you’re really leaving. And I guess I thought—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

Your frown deepens. “Hana.”

She exhales through her nose, looking away. “It’s just… I thought you’d maybe consider staying. That something—someone—would make you stay.”

Your stomach twists. You don’t need her to say who she’s talking about. “Hana…”

She waves a hand, forcing a smile. “Forget it. It’s your choice. I just— I’m gonna miss you, that’s all.”

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down, managing a small smile. “I’m gonna miss you too. We’ll still stay in touch, even after I find a job out there, I promise.” Your arms encircle her waist in a hug, to which she reciprocates. 

“I know,” she murmurs, squeezing you tightly. “But it won’t be the same.”

You rest your chin on her shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla that clings to her. “Nothing stays the same forever, Hana.”

She huffs a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, yeah. Look at you, all wise and mature now.”

You roll your eyes, nudging her playfully. “I’ve always been wise. You just refused to acknowledge it.”

Hana smirks. “Sure, sure. Just don’t forget about me when you’re off living your new fancy life.”

“Never.” You say it with conviction, and you mean it. No matter what changes, she’ll always be a part of your life. 

Hana studies your face for a moment before sighing. “Alright, enough of this sentimental crap. Let’s finish cleaning up before we open.” You laugh, but as you turn back to your task, you can’t help but feel the weight of her words settle deep in your chest.

You grab a rag to clean up the tables, but just as you do so, Hana’s phone that was laying up right near the register dings with a text message. You glance over carelessly, the ping catching your attention. But what you didn’t expect to see was someone’s name that sends bolts of frustration up your body. Brows knitting in the middle with your lip down turning. You lean forward to get a closer look, but the phone is being snatched from your vision. Looking up, Hana’s face has contorted into what you can assume is guilt, shoving the device in her back pocket. A moment of silence passes between you two.

“....Hana, why the fuck are you still texting Naoya?”

Hana stiffens, her fingers tightening around the rag in her hands. “It’s not what you think,” she mutters, turning away to wipe down the counter with unnecessary force.

Your stomach twists. “Not what I think?” You let out a humorless laugh. “Hana, I thought we agreed—no, you agreed—that he was bad news. That you were done with him.”

She exhales sharply, still avoiding your eyes. “I was done. I am done.”

“Bullshit.” You toss your rag onto the nearest table and cross your arms. “If you were done, you wouldn’t be hiding your phone from me like a guilty teenager.”

She finally looks at you, jaw tight. “It’s not that simple.”

Your patience is wearing thin. “It is that simple. You cut him off, like you said you would. You don’t let him manipulate you again, Hana. You don’t let him back in.”

She flinches at your words, and for a moment, you see the conflict flash across her face. Then, just as quickly, she schools her expression into something neutral, almost detached. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but this is my business. Not yours.”

You stare at her, feeling like you’ve just been slapped. “Not my business?” You shake your head in disbelief. “After everything he’s done? After how he treated you? You really think I’m just gonna stand here and pretend I don’t care? He left you to the wolves shitfaced and let you almost do hard drugs, Hana.”

Her gaze drops, but she doesn’t respond.

“Hana,” you say, softer this time. “Please. Tell me what’s going on.”

She hesitates, fingers curling at her sides. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she says, “He said he’s changed.”

Your breath catches. The frustration in your chest morphs into something heavier—something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Changed? You think a guy like that has changed within only a week or two?”

“He apologized, Y/N. He came over and—”

“You let him come over?” You scoff out in disbelief. 

Hana’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t meet your eyes. “It wasn’t like that. He just… showed up. He wanted to talk.”

“And you let him in?” Your voice rises despite yourself, frustration bubbling over. “After everything he put you through that night, you actually listened to him?”

Her shoulders stiffen. “People can change, Y/N.”

“Not him,” you say flatly. “Not Naoya. You know that. We talked about this.”

She exhales sharply, gripping the rag like it’s the only thing grounding her. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I do,” you counter. “I get it too well, Hana. Because I was there. I was the one picking up the pieces. And now you’re telling me that a few days is all it takes for him to be a better man?” Hana stays quiet, but you can see the cracks forming in her expression—the doubt, the guilt. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “Look, I love you. And I know it’s hard to walk away from someone like him. But he hasn’t changed. He’s just found a new way to manipulate you. I don’t want you going through something like that again.”

Her lip trembles, and for a second, you think she might break. But then she forces out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “You always think you know what’s best for me, don’t you?”

You stare at her, caught off guard. “That’s not what this is about—”

“Isn’t it?” She meets your gaze now, eyes flashing. “You can’t control me, Y/N. I’m not some helpless kid who needs saving.”

Your heart sinks. “I’m not trying to control you, Hana. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

She swallows hard, looking away. “I can handle myself.”

“Yes, you can. But I’m your friend, that’s what friends are for.”

“Are you my friend, Y/N?” She huffs out, throwing the rag on the counter and crossing her arms. “Because from what I see, it’s kind of hard to believe that. You rarely like coming out with me anymore, you take days to respond to my texts, and I only see you at work.”

Your jaw grits, putting your rag down. “It’s not like that. You know I’m busy with Koji, with Satoru, with everything. I’m trying to be here for you in every way that I can be.”

Hana scoffs, shaking her head. “Right. And somehow, ‘being here for me’ means judging me every time I make a decision you don’t like?”

Your chest tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She throws her hands up. “I get it, Y/N. You have a whole life outside of this job—outside of me. And I’ve tried to be okay with it, I really have. But it just feels like… like I’m not a priority to you anymore.” Her words hit harder than you expect. You part your lips to argue, but nothing comes out. Because, deep down, you know she’s not entirely wrong. Hana exhales, her shoulders sagging. “I miss you, Y/N. And yeah, maybe Naoya isn’t the best decision. But at least he wants to be around me.”

That stings. More than it should. You run a hand through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts. “Hana…”

But she’s already turning away, grabbing the rag from the counter. “Forget it. We still have stuff to clean.”

The weight of it lingers as you watch her move away, your stomach twisting with something between guilt and frustration. But you’ve always been persistent. Your feet work with a mind of their own, following her to the section of booths in the corner. “Hana, stop this, okay?”

“Stop what?”

“Stop making stupid decisions, please.”

“So you can have a man who can give you anything under the sun, but when I do it, it’s wrong.”

You grab hold of her arm to stop her. “What the hell? Are you serious? Is that why you’re going after him? Because he has money. And Satoru and I aren’t even together, Hana. What are you talking about?”

“And so what if I’m doing it for the money?!” She yanks her arm back. “Why is it so fucking wrong of me to want security?”

“Because it’s shallow and not like you.”

Hana’s eyes flash with anger, and for a second, you think she’s going to snap. But instead, she takes a deep breath, clenching her jaw. “I’m not asking for your approval, Y/N. You’ve never understood me, and maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not the same person I used to be, but I’m doing what I think is best for me right now. You and Satoru have your perfect little world, but I don’t have that. I don’t even have my own damn apartment without scrambling for rent every month.”

Her words cut through the air, harsh and raw. You didn’t realize how much the frustration had been building for her until now. “I’m struggling too—”

“Not when you have a fucking billionaire baby daddy,” she swiftly interrupts you.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and the guilt from earlier rises again, twisting in your chest, biting your lip hard. "That's not fair, Hana. You know things aren’t perfect with him and me. You think just because things aren't goinging great for you, it's okay to throw everything you’ve built away for something that isn’t real?"

Hana exhales sharply, wiping her face with a frustrated hand. "You think I don’t know that? I’m just trying to survive, Y/N."

"Survive?" You step closer, your voice trembling. "You think this is survival? I’m not telling you what to do. But you're choosing him over us—over yourself. You know Naoya isn’t good for you. What happens when the money’s gone, or when he gets bored?"

Her eyes meet yours, hard and unflinching. "I don’t need your pity, okay? And I don’t need you to tell me what’s best for me. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

For a long, tense moment, the silence hangs heavy between you two. You want to keep fighting, to say something that’ll make her see reason, but you don’t know if it’s worth it anymore. She’s made up her mind. “Hana…” you start, but she cuts you off, her tone icy.

“Just drop it, okay? I’m not going to continue having this argument with you.”

Your heart aches, but you nod, stepping back slowly. She won’t listen to reason right now. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve been pushing too hard. “Fine,” you mutter, your voice smaller than you want it to be. “Do what you want.”

Her gaze softens for a split second, but then it’s gone, and she turns away, heading back to the counter. You’re left standing there, feeling the distance between you both grow. Your chest feels hollow like something inside you has cracked wide open, leaving behind an aching, empty space. The sting of her words lingers, each syllable embedding itself into your skin like tiny, invisible splinters. You shouldn’t be this hurt—you shouldn’t care this much. But you do. Because it’s Hana.

She’s been by your side for these couple of years, through every high and low, through every moment when you thought you’d collapse under the weight of everything. And now, she’s slipping through your fingers, walking a path you know will only lead to heartbreak. You can feel her pulling away, and the worst part? You don’t know how to stop it. Frustration curls in your stomach, hot and tight, twisting into something almost unbearable. You want to shake her, make her see that she’s making a mistake. But deep down, there’s something else gnawing at you, something ugly and uncomfortable—doubt.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe you don’t understand her. Maybe, in trying so hard to protect her, you’ve been pushing her away instead. The realization is bitter, and it tastes like loss. Your fingers curl into your palms as you watch her retreat, her shoulders tense, her posture stiff with unspoken words. You could call after her, one last attempt to fix this. But your throat feels tight, and your voice is nowhere to be found. So instead, you just stand there, watching her go. Watching the distance between you grow wider, wondering if you’ll ever be able to close it again.

The rest of your shift had passed by with an awkward tenseness that even the other employees could notice. You clocked out without saying bye to Hana, heading home after calling off from your second job. You almost forgot you even invited Shoko over to help you pack until she rings your doorbell. Straightening yourself up, you push off the table and go to open the door. 

“Hey,” she greets, giving you a simple smile.

“Hey,” you reply back, stepping aside to let her in. A faint scent of cigarettes follows her inside as you close and lock the door. 

“So,” she begins, doing a small look around. “Where is he?”

You nod. “Koji! Come here, please!” A tiny pitter-patter of feet is heard, coming from his room and in front of you two. He looks up at Shoko, head tilting with curiosity. You crouch down to his height. “Koji, this my friend, Shoko.”

Koji blinks up at her, his big eyes studying her with an adorable mix of questioning and caution. He clutches the hem of his shirt, shifting on his feet as if trying to decide whether she’s someone worth trusting. Shoko, ever patient, crouches down a little and offers him a small, lazy wave. “Hey, kid,” she says, her tone light but warm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Koji doesn’t say anything right away, still watching her like he’s figuring something out. You can tell he’s analyzing her the way he does with new people—quiet, observant, waiting to see if she’s friend or foe. You smile, reaching out to smooth down his hair. “She’s really nice, baby,” you reassure him gently. “And she’s gonna help me pack today.”

His eyes flick between you and Shoko before he finally nods, accepting the introduction in his own quiet way. Then, after a moment, he shifts closer to you, pressing a small hand against your knee like he’s making sure you’re still there.

Shoko tilts her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “He’s a smart one,” she muses. “Doesn’t trust just anyone, huh?”

You chuckle softly. “Sometimes no. He takes a while to warm up to people.”

Koji stares at Shoko a little longer, then finally, with the tiniest voice, he asks, “Do you like dinosaurs?”

Shoko’s lips curve into a lazy grin. “Oh, I love dinosaurs,” she says without missing a beat. “Stegosaurus is my favorite.”

Koji’s eyes light up, his grip on your knee loosening as his excitement builds. “Me too!” he exclaims, his earlier hesitation already fading.

You let out a quiet breath, relieved to see him opening up. Shoko throws you a knowing glance before reaching into her pocket. “Wanna see something cool?” she asks, pulling out her phone. She taps on it a few times before turning the screen to him. “Look at this—real fossil pictures.”

Koji gasps, stepping closer, his tiny hands gripping the edge of her phone as he stares in fascination.

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “Well, I guess you’ve won him over.”

Shoko winks at you before looking back at Koji. “Guess that means I can stay, huh?”

Koji nods quickly, his earlier shyness completely gone. “Yeah! You can stay!” Your heart warms at the sight of them, a small, fleeting moment of peace settling over you. Even just for a little while, it feels like everything is okay.

Packing has never been your favorite thing to do. Having to look through year-old things, deciding if they’re worth staying in your life or not, buying boxes, the clutter that fills the place, everything about it is just exhausting. Shoko watches as you sigh, standing in the middle of your living room with your hands on your hips, surveying the mess of half-packed boxes, scattered clothes, and random trinkets from years past. "You look like you’re about to combust," she comments dryly, flopping onto your couch and lighting a cigarette.

You huff, rubbing your forehead. "I might. I hate this shit. It makes everything feel… real."

Shoko chuckles, watching you with an unreadable expression. "Because it is real," she says simply. "You’re leaving." 

Her words settle in your chest like a weight, heavy and suffocating. You know that. Of course, you do. You made this decision, you accepted the keys from Satoru, and you started packing. But now, as you hold a picture frame in your hands—one from a time when things were different, when you weren’t a single mother trying to keep everything together—it hits you all over again. You sit down on the floor with a tired sigh, staring at the photograph. It’s an old one, faded at the edges. Gojo's arm is draped around your shoulders, his usual grin on full display while you lean into him, laughing at something you can’t even remember anymore. It was before everything went to hell. Before Koji. Before the distance.

Shoko’s gaze flickers to the frame in your hands. "You keeping that?"

You swallow, fingers tightening around the frame. You should toss it. It’s just a relic of something that doesn’t exist anymore. But your hands won’t let go.

"...Yeah," you murmur, almost to yourself. "I think I am."

Shoko doesn’t say anything, just nods and leans back, letting you sit with your thoughts.

Packing has never been your favorite thing. But maybe, just maybe, there are some things worth holding onto. You place the picture frame into your box of memories, standing back up with a big exhale. 

“So, have you been looking for jobs near where you’ll be staying now?”

Her question briefly reminds you of the argument with Hana, but you have a good poker face. “Not yet, I mean, I was just thinking of doing the commute.”

“That’ll be far, won’t it?” She sits on the couch cushion.

You nod, tapping your finger along your elbow. “Yeah…or this one lady gave me her business card a while back. She said to call if I was interested, it might be closer to the new place, but I haven’t checked yet.”

“Oh, sick,” she nods, taking a sip from a glass of water you gave her earlier. “Why haven’t you called yet?”

“I—I don’t know. It seemed a little suspicious to me, just the way she came off. But maybe I’m just being superstitious.” 

Shoko raises an eyebrow, swirling the water in her glass. “Suspicious how?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, crossing your arms. “I don’t know… she was really persistent.’”

Shoko snorts. “Yeah, that’s how you end up in a pyramid scheme or an underground fight club.”

You roll your eyes but chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, I doubt it’s that extreme. But something about it didn’t sit right with me. Maybe I’ll give her a call, though..”

Shoko shrugs. “Can’t hurt. Just don’t sign anything unless you know exactly what you’re getting into.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’re gonna be okay, you know that, right?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “I mean, yeah. I hope so.”

She gives you a look—one of those knowing, slightly exasperated ones. “No. Not ‘I hope so.’ You will be.”

A lump forms in your throat at the certainty in her voice. Shoko wasn’t the type to say things just to make people feel better. If she said it, she meant it. You exhale, some of the weight in your chest loosening. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I will be.”

She grins, leaning back into the couch again. “That’s the spirit. Now hurry up and finish packing before I start judging your terrible organization skills.”

You roll your eyes as you two get back to work. “Oh, and you don’t have to stay until nine anymore. Satoru said he’d help me when he gets off work.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Oh? Satoru’s coming over to help you pack? How domestic.”

You groan, shoving a pile of clothes into a box with a little too much force. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she says, raising her hands in mock innocence. “I just think it’s funny. You two aren’t together, but he’s making house calls to help you pack. Almost like—oh, I don’t know—a boyfriend would.”

You sigh, sitting back on your heels. “He’s just helping, Shoko. It’s his way of making up for lost time. And, you know… Koji.”

Shoko hums, taking another sip of her water. “Uh-huh. Sure. Just be careful, alright? Satoru has a way of worming his way back into places.”

You look at her, your stomach twisting a little at the implication. “I know.”

She doesn’t press any further, just gives you a small nod before grabbing another box. “Alright then. Let’s finish this up before your not-boyfriend gets here.”

You and Shoko actually end up doing some pretty good damage, clearing out most of the living room and kitchen within a couple of hours. The place is filled with half-sealed boxes, stacks of clothes, and random knickknacks you forgot you even owned. Koji occasionally tries to help out before going back to playing in his room, door open. The air smells faintly of cardboard and dust, and every so often, you hear the rip of packing tape as one of you secures another box. Shoko moves with practiced ease, taping up a box labeled kitchenware while holding a cigarette between her lips, the ash barely hanging on. “You sure you need all these mugs?” she asks, giving you a pointed look.

You glance at the open box filled with an assortment of cups—some gifted, some bought on impulse, and a few holding sentimental value. You chew your lip. “...Maybe.”

Shoko snorts. “I’ll take that as a no.” Without waiting for your response, she plucks a random floral-patterned mug and sets it aside. “This one’s cute, though. I’m keeping it.”

You shake your head with a small laugh before focusing on your own task—sorting through a box of old papers, receipts, and letters you should’ve thrown out years ago. Some of them you skim through, lingering on certain notes or reminders scribbled in the margins, while others you crumple up without a second thought. At one point, Shoko finds an old sweater buried at the bottom of a pile and holds it up. “Didn’t you steal this from Satoru?”

Your hands pause over a stack of mail as you glance at the familiar fabric. It’s an oversized hoodie, worn at the cuffs, with a faint scent of something you refuse to acknowledge clinging to it. You exhale, shaking your head. “Borrowed. And forgot to give back.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. Instead, she tosses it onto the “maybe” pile. “Right. Borrowed.”

By the time you finish packing up Koji’s toys that he hasn’t been playing with recently, the apartment looks emptier, more like a place in transition rather than a home. You stretch, your back aching slightly from crouching on the floor for so long. Shoko leans against the counter.. “So, when’s Satoru supposed to get here?”

You check the time on your phone, suppressing a sigh. “Soon, I think.”

She nods. “Good, I think I’m gonna head out now. I have a charcuterie board and some wine waiting for me at home.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a small laugh. “Of course you do.”

Shoko smirks as she grabs her coat. “What can I say? I have taste.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, stretching slightly before making her way to the door.

“Thanks for helping,” you say sincerely, following her.

She shrugs. “No problem. Besides, watching you stress-pack was mildly entertaining.”

You roll your eyes, but the fondness in your expression betrays you. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your wine and fancy snacks.”

“Always do,” she says with a lazy grin, stepping out into the hallway. “Oh, and tell Satoru I said hi.”

You hum noncommittally, leaning against the doorframe as she walks off. The second she’s out of sight, you sigh, rubbing your temples. The apartment is eerily quiet now, save for the occasional sound of Koji shifting in his room and the faint rustling of cardboard boxes.

And now, all that’s left to do is wait.

And waiting was what you did.

You should’ve assumed that when Satoru didn’t give you an exact time of when he’d be off of work, it would be late. You’ve already showered and changed into one of your comfortable nightgowns you have since a good majority of your other pajamas have been packed. Koji has been washed up also, getting him ready for bed. You read his favorite lullaby and kiss his cheek as he drifts off to sleep, silently peeling out the room and closing the door behind you. You won’t be moving out until hopefully a month from now, since your lease is month to month. But you’ve always enjoyed getting a head start on things, especially something as big as this. 

The apartment feels different now, half-packed boxes stacked in corners, the once-cozy clutter of everyday life slowly disappearing. You stand in the dimly lit living room, rubbing your arms as the silence settles over you. Moving still doesn’t feel real. You glance at the clock. Satoru still isn’t here. With a sigh, you walk into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. The faint hum of the refrigerator is the only sound accompanying you as you lean against the counter, tapping your fingers against the cool surface. Your mind drifts—back to your conversation with Hana, to Koji’s peaceful face as he slept. The weight of everything presses on your chest, but before you can dwell too much, a soft knock at the door pulls you back.

You already know who it is.

Setting the glass down, you push off the counter and make your way to the door, unlocking it with a quiet click. And when you open it, there he is—Satoru, standing in the dim glow of the hallway light, looking a little tired but still offering you a lopsided grin. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves lazily rolled up, with black slacks and shoes. 

“Hey,” he says, voice lower than usual. Tired. 

“Hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in. “you’re a little late.”

“Yeah, sorry. Some stuff in the office, got held up.” 

You nod, not exactly surprised. You’ve grown used to his unpredictable hours, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “It’s fine. Just… been waiting around for you,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck as you lead him inside.

He gives you a look, something soft behind his usual nonchalant expression. "I know. I’m sorry about that."

"It's okay." You give him a faint smile, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Koji's already asleep. I made sure to finish his bedtime routine before I started getting things ready here."

Satoru hums in acknowledgment, putting his jacket off and hanging it over a chair. His gaze drifts to the boxes scattered around the room, some already taped up and others half-opened. It’s a stark reminder of the transition you’re about to make, and you can tell he’s thinking the same thing, his face momentarily tight before he shakes it off. “I see you're making progress,” he says, stepping over to the couch and sitting down.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him with a small sigh. "Yeah, just... still a lot to do. Not sure where I’ll even begin with everything. Packing up a life feels… strange."

He looks up at you, his expression serious. “I get it.” His voice drops a bit, almost too soft, as if he’s carefully measuring his next words. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m helping, remember?”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you forget about the tension between the two of you, the things unsaid and still hanging in the air. “I know,” you whisper back. "Thank you."

“Don’t thank me too much,” he waves you off. “Where should we start?”

You glance around the room, the dim light casting soft shadows on the packed boxes. It feels like the room itself is holding its breath, just like you, waiting for something to break. "Well," you start, standing up and walking over to one of the piles of clothes, "I guess we could start with the things I don’t need immediately. Like these clothes." You pull out a few items, folding them quickly and placing them in the box. "That should make a dent in it."

Satoru watches you for a moment, then stands and stretches, clearly ready to dive in. "Alright, clothes it is. But if we're doing this, we're doing it right," he says, a glimmer of teasing in his tone. "I’ll help you with everything. You won’t even have to lift a finger."

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You’re acting like I can’t handle it myself."

"I know you can," he replies, his voice softening. "But if I’m here, let me do my part."

You hesitate for just a second, looking up at him. His offer feels real, no strings attached, and part of you wants to take him up on it. But the other part— the one that’s always been fiercely independent— resists. "Alright," you say finally, looking away to hide the conflicted thoughts running through your mind. "Start with the clothes, then we’ll see where we’re at."

He grins. "You got it."

And so, the two of you begin. It’s quiet at first, just the soft rustle of clothes and the occasional murmur from either of you. But with Satoru’s easy presence next to you, there’s a strange comfort in it. The tension between you both hasn’t disappeared, but it feels more manageable now. Like it’s being pushed aside, at least for tonight.

It’s a pretty peaceful endeavor. Of course, your eyes keep flickering over to the way his forearms clench tight, showing off his pretty web of veins as he lifts one box to stack on top of another. And of course, he can’t help but steal quick glances at your legs peeking out from your dress, or that cute little noise you make when you lift something. The silence between you two feels almost comfortable, but there's an undercurrent of tension that’s hard to ignore. You catch Satoru's gaze more than once, his eyes briefly lingering on you before darting away, as if he’s trying to shake off a thought that keeps circling back.

However, the air in the room feels heavier, charged with unspoken thoughts, though neither of you acknowledges it. Your movements become a little more deliberate, and more calculated, as if both of you are trying to stay focused on the task at hand. But it’s hard to ignore the quiet heat building between the two of you, a tension neither of you seems willing to break.

Every time you glance at him, there’s something different in the way he holds himself—more aware, like he's suddenly hyper-conscious of your proximity. It’s not the usual Satoru, the one with all the jokes and playful teasing. This Satoru is more subdued, like he’s fighting the urge to close the distance. You try to ignore it, pushing the box into its designated spot, but his gaze keeps catching yours. And when you don’t look away fast enough, the corners of his mouth curl, almost imperceptibly. That look, that silent acknowledgment of the way you’re both aware of the other... it makes your heart beat a little faster, a little harder.

You catch Satoru's gaze more than once, his eyes briefly lingering on you before darting away, as if he’s trying to shake off a thought that keeps circling back. And you can't seem to stop noticing the way his muscles move under his shirt, the flex of his arms, the casual grace in the way he lifts the boxes. He’s not even trying to look impressive, but it’s hard not to find something magnetic about the way he carries himself—like everything he does is effortless, even in the midst of something as mundane as packing up boxes.

You try to focus on your task, but the way your mind keeps wandering back to him—his presence so close, his every movement in your peripheral vision—makes it hard to concentrate. It’s like the room has shrunk, and all the air between you is charged with something unspoken.

"You're staring," Satoru says, his voice light, a playful hint in his tone. He lifts another box, his eyes meeting yours briefly. "Trying to get an up-close look at all this muscle, huh?"

Your cheeks warm, and you quickly glance away, pretending to straighten out a stack of books. "I wasn’t staring," you mutter, but there's no real conviction in your voice.

Satoru just smirks, clearly amused, but doesn’t push. Instead, he adds another box to the growing pile and turns his attention back to the task at hand. There's an ease in the way he works, but it’s also clear that he’s making a deliberate effort to keep the mood light. Maybe to balance out the underlying weight of everything else. The two of you fall into a quiet rhythm, the soft rustling of cardboard and the occasional clink of items being packed the only sounds filling the space. You don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this—having him here, helping, being part of something so domestic. He moves through your space like he belongs, like he’s done this a million times before, and maybe that’s what unsettles you the most. Because there was a time when he did.

You kneel down to wrap some plates in newspaper, but Satoru beats you to it, his long fingers brushing against yours as he takes over the task. It’s brief, fleeting, but the contact sends a jolt through your skin, making you stiffen for just a second. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything—he just works, his movements efficient but unhurried.

More of Koji’s many toys are the next thing to go into a box, and you pause for a moment, running your fingers over the worn edges of a tiny action figure. It’s one of Koji’s favorites—one Satoru had bought him one time on a whim. You remember the way he handed it to your son with an easy grin, the way Koji’s face had lit up like it was the best gift in the world. Your chest tightens as you place it carefully in the box. “You okay?” Satoru asks, his voice softer now. You glance up to find him watching you, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something quieter, something real.

You nod, swallowing. “Yeah. Just… I don’t know. Packing makes things feel more real, I guess.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I get that.”

For a moment, it feels like he wants to say more, but the words never come. Instead, he shifts his attention back to the stack of boxes, lifting one effortlessly and carrying it to the corner of the room. And then, something catches his eye. It’s stacked on top of the coffee table and he’s not sure how he didn’t recognize it earlier, but it’s distinct. The handwriting, the doodles, everything. 

“You still have that?” He juts his chin towards its direction.

You stop and look over, following his gaze to the precious box of memories your younger selves made. Your hands still over the box you were taping up, your eyes tracing the old box stacked neatly on the coffee table. It’s a little worn now, the edges fraying, the ink of your younger selves’ handwriting faded but still legible. The weight of nostalgia settles in your chest like a stone.

Of course, you still have it.

You glance at Satoru, catching the flicker of recognition in his expression. His usual carefree smirk is nowhere to be found—just something softer, more thoughtful, as he takes a step closer. “I didn’t think you’d keep it,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the lid.

You hesitate, swallowing past the sudden tightness in your throat. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Satoru exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Thought maybe… after everything, you would’ve tossed it.”

You know what he means. That box holds pieces of the past—old photos, handwritten notes, ticket stubs from nights you thought would last forever. Memories you both tried to move on from but never really could. You shrug, running a hand over the lid. “Some things are worth holding onto.”

His eyes flicker to yours, something unreadable in them. His fingers hover over the edge of the box, like he’s debating whether to open it. “Do you mind?”

You shake your head, and with careful hands, he lifts the lid and takes a seat at the couch. The moment he does, the past spills out between you—photographs with scribbled dates, pressed flowers long since dried, a crumpled receipt from that diner you both used to sneak off to.

A photo rests on top, slightly curled at the edges. It’s of you and Satoru, years ago, faces close together as you both made exaggerated, ridiculous expressions for the camera. His arm was draped around you, his signature grin in place. He looks through another few, one of you both wearing Ring Pops, a picture of you guys sitting underneath a tree, ones of you two kissing, and sweet, but cheesy cards with his writing on it.

You wonder if he remembers the moment any of them were taken. If he remembers how he stole your fries right after, laughing when you swatted at him. If he remembers how easy things used to be. He exhales slowly, running a thumb over the corner of the photo. “We were such kids,” he muses.

You smile faintly. “We were.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The weight of everything unspoken lingers in the air between you. The past, the present, the things you both wish you could take back—it’s all there, packed into a small shoebox of memories you never really let go of. And maybe, just maybe, neither did he.

Satoru flips through the photographs slowly, his fingers lingering on each one like they might disintegrate under his touch. His lips quirk up at a few—like the one of you wearing his sunglasses, pouting at the camera while he made a stupid face behind you. Or the blurry snapshot of a festival, fireworks exploding in the night sky above your laughing forms.  

But there’s one that makes his expression falter, something unreadable flickering in those bright blue eyes. It’s an old candid, one you don’t even remember being taken. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of what used to be his apartment, surrounded by scattered papers and empty takeout boxes. You’re mid-laugh, head thrown back, completely unguarded. And Satoru—he’s looking at you.  

Not at the camera. At you.  

His gaze in the photo is something raw, something unfiltered. And looking at it now, years later, it almost makes your breath catch. Satoru exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot about this one.”  

You shift beside him, peering over his shoulder. “Me too.”  

Liar.  

You remember exactly when it was taken. You remember the warmth of that night, the way the two of you had spent hours talking about everything and nothing. You remember how he had looked at you then—like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.  

And the worst part?  

You think, maybe, he’s looking at you the same way right now.  

You swallow, forcing a chuckle as you reach for another old memory. “Oh god, do you remember this?” You hold up a wrinkled concert ticket, the faded ink barely legible. “We got lost on the way home and ended up at that weird little gas station in the middle of nowhere.”  

His laugh is warm, genuine. “Yeah, and you made me go inside alone because you swore it looked haunted.”  

“It did look haunted.”  

“It was just old, Y/N.”  

You grin, nudging his arm. He nudges back, something familiar settling in between you both. Something easy. He looks down at another photo, one of you two curled up on what used to be his childhood bed, he’s taking the picture. You’re asleep on his shoulder, a small wet spot from what can only be your drool, as he sports a dorky grin. 

Your heart flutters at the way his eyes linger on your face, smiling in a way that makes you sit beside him, knees brushing together. “You always fell asleep so quick.” 

You chortle quietly. “Well, yeah. Your bed was comfier than mine.”

“It was. Comfier than my hotel from last night too,” he fakes a wince. 

You blink, head tilting. “You got a hotel? I thought you said you were going home.”

His lips purse, looking at you. “Yeah, well…I changed my mind.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

He hesitates, like he’s not sure he should tell you the truth, but ultimately decides to. “Well…I don’t know. I realized I didn’t really want to go home yet, but I didn’t want to be too far from you guys either, and I felt weird asking to stay.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His words settle into your chest, warm and heavy, lingering in places you’ve tried to ignore for so long. “You didn’t want to be too far…” you echo softly, letting the sentence trail off, like saying it out loud might make it feel realer.  

Satoru shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he does it—something unsure. “Yeah, I guess.” He looks down at the photo again, his thumb brushing absently over the image of your sleeping face. “I mean, it’s stupid, right?”  

You don’t know what to say to that. Because no, it’s not stupid. Not to you. You wet your lips. “You could’ve just…stayed here, you know.”  

He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Could I have?” His voice is quiet, careful.  

You hold his gaze. There’s an unspoken conversation happening between the two of you, the kind that doesn’t need words. The kind that comes with knowing someone for so long that silence says just as much as anything else.  

Finally, you look away, your fingers playing with the hem of your nightgown. “Yeah,” you murmur. “You could have.”  

The air between you shifts—something delicate, something dangerously close to feeling like before.  

Satoru exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shake something off. “Well,” he says, forcing a smirk, “maybe next time I’ll take you up on that.”  

You give a small laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Because you don’t know if you mean it. If you could really handle him here, in your space, in your life, so close yet still so far.  But when he leans back against the couch, his arm brushing against yours, when he picks up another photo and grins at some long-forgotten memory—you think, maybe, you wouldn’t mind. 

He continues to indulge in the sacred beauties of what your past has to offer. It’s another quiet affair, words feeling too loud for such a fragile moment like this one. You smile when he does, laugh when he does at another cringey picture. And soon, his eyes begin to glaze over with emotion. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight, a small gasp almost falling from your lips at the rawness he’s so willingly showing right now. Instead, you say nothing, biting hard on your lip and forcing your eyes on your hands in your lap. 

“Y/N…” he murmurs.

When you look back up, he looks like he’s barely holding it in.

“I…I just…I….I’m not happy. With everything, myself, with—with what I’ve done and said before. It’s been haunting me so much nowadays and no matter what, I can’t help myself. I feel guilty, disgusted, and…and I regret it. A lot. I’ve been confusing you, but myself too. I feel like I disappoint every single time, no matter what….I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even know how to respond to that for a few seconds. You gulp, finally finding your voice. “Satoru….” You whisper, trying to find the right words. “I—I should be the one telling you that.”

“You have before.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make up for my mistakes, either.”

“It doesn’t. But I’ve been hearing you apologize so much recently, it’s time you hear mine.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the room, thick with the kind of sincerity that makes your chest tighten. You try to process it, try to let the impact of his confession settle into something that makes sense. But the words seem to fall short—guilt, regret, disgust. The rawness in his voice cuts deeper than you expect, unraveling something you didn’t know was tied up inside you.

His eyes are full of turmoil, and you can see how much it costs him to open up like this. His usual confidence, the front he wears so easily, is nowhere to be found. In its place is a vulnerability so unguarded that it almost frightens you. And in this quiet, fragile moment, it feels like time slows down. 

“I’ve heard your apologies, Satoru,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “But you don’t have to keep apologizing. Not for this.”

His expression falters for a second, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "But—"

You shake your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips, though it doesn’t feel like enough to wipe away the heaviness in the room. “I’m not perfect either, Satoru,” you continue, your voice gaining strength with each word. “We both made mistakes. And I’ve hurt you too. But we’ve hurt each other.” He looks like he wants to argue, but you press on, finding courage in his honesty. “I’ve been holding onto the past just as much as you have. I can’t change it, but I need to stop pretending it doesn’t still affect me. It’s been haunting me too. But I can’t keep holding onto it. Not if I want to move forward. We’re older now, wiser, more mature. There’s Koji, and…and I don’t want things to feel…horrible between us. I want us to find peace together.”

Satoru swallows hard, and the muscles in his jaw tighten. His hand reaches for his forehead, rubbing it like he’s trying to push the weight of everything out of his mind. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N. I’m trying. But it feels like I keep screwing up.”

“I know,” you say quietly. "We both do." The words are out there, and now all that’s left is to let them breathe. Neither of you can change the past, but maybe...you can learn to let it go. 

He nods slowly, as if trying to absorb it all, and after a moment of silence, he looks back at you. His eyes are tired, but there's something softer in them now, something hopeful. He wipes his eyes. "I don't know where we go from here, but I don’t want to keep running from it."

Your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t know what the future holds either, but for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel the weight of the past starting to lift, even if just a little. "Me neither," you whisper, your voice shaky with emotion. "But maybe we can figure it out."

“Together.”

“Together.”

His lips curve up into a genuine smile full of nothing but warmth, adoration. The smile he gives you is like the first rays of sunlight after a storm, bright and full of life. It’s soft, unguarded—something you haven’t seen in a long time. It reaches his eyes, a spark of something familiar and comforting that makes your chest tighten in a way you haven’t felt in ages. The weight that’s been hanging between you both, the heavy unspoken truths, start to feel a little lighter.

You find yourself leaning into the moment, your breath steadying as his gaze softens, his hand subtly inching closer to yours. He doesn’t push it, but the offer is there, unspoken, a silent invitation to bridge the distance that’s always seemed too wide. You could almost hear the quiet rhythm of your heart in the silence between you, pulsing steady and sure.

“I know there’s some things that don’t call for forgiveness, I understand that. It goes both ways. But I want you to know that I want to be better for Koji, and for you. I want to be here for you, even if it’s just to co-parent.” He says. 

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice almost overwhelming. It’s like he’s finally seeing the bigger picture, the shared weight of the past, and the future that still holds a flicker of possibility. His willingness to be better for both Koji and you feels like a balm on a wound that’s been open for far too long. You look down at your hands, fingers trembling slightly as the gravity of the moment presses on your chest. You had always known that, beneath all the tension and mistakes, there was something worth salvaging, but hearing him admit it brings a kind of clarity you didn’t know you needed. 

“Maybe,” you start, your voice faltering for a second, “maybe we don’t need to fix everything all at once. But I think we can make it work. For him, and for us... no matter what it looks like.” 

You glance up, meeting his gaze. There’s an unspoken understanding between you two, the kind that doesn’t need words. He’s no longer just apologizing—he’s actively offering a future where you’re both better versions of yourselves, learning, growing, and being there for Koji. The idea of co-parenting with him, of sharing that responsibility and maybe even more, feels like the first step toward something that might just heal all the old wounds. You don’t know what the future holds, but for once, it doesn’t feel as daunting as it did before.

The air between you thickens with every breath, heavy and charged. The weight of what he said lingers in your chest and you begin to forget about everything else. It’s just you and him, the past and the future all blending together in this shared space. You can feel his presence more than you ever have before—closer than ever, his warmth radiating off of him, his gaze never leaving yours.

Satoru shifts slightly, his knee brushing against yours, sending a spark up your spine. It’s not just the physical closeness; it’s the way the emotional tension seems to stretch and wind itself tighter, knotting in your gut. His eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a split second, but it’s enough to make your heart race, to make your breath hitch in your throat. You inhale shakily, eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, unsure of whether it’s the right moment. His hand, almost instinctively, moves toward yours, brushing the back of your fingers lightly. It’s barely a touch, but it sends a wave of heat flooding through your body.

"Y/N..." He says your name in a low, almost desperate whisper. It's a quiet plea, and it’s as if he’s asking for permission—permission to cross that line, to go past the familiar territory you’ve shared for so long.

You’re frozen in place, caught between the pull of your past and the undeniable attraction of the present. Your pulse quickens, and for a moment, all the doubts, the reservations, the walls you’ve built, seem so far away. “Is this...” You start, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by the sudden proximity of his face to yours. His breath is warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t need to answer. His eyes tell you everything you need to know—the vulnerability, the desire, the hope, all wrapped up in the way his lips hover just inches from yours.  Your hand slowly finds its way to the side of his neck, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of his pulse, a silent invitation.

Time seems to stand still for what feels like an eternity. Both of you internally weighing out the pros and cons of this situation, but all you can come up with are the pros. You’re not sure who moves first—whether it’s him leaning in, or you, but in the next moment, his lips are on yours, tentative at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. 

But you don’t. You don’t pull away.

The kiss deepens, slow but insistent, the taste of him, the feel of his mouth, everything feels so raw and real, like you’ve both been starved for this connection. Every lingering touch, every brush of skin, sends a flood of emotions coursing through you. His head tilts, cupping his hands against your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss—it’s everything that’s been left unsaid, the apology, the longing, the shared history—it’s all colliding in this single moment.

And even though it’s a long time coming, you know it’s about what comes after, the mess and the beauty of what you’ve both been through. But for now, all you can focus on is him—the way he feels against you, the way everything else seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you.

His head pushes closer, kissing you with a tender firmness that has you encircling your arms around his neck to bring him closer. Happily, he scoots closer to you, one hand drifting down to your waist. His tongue swipes gently across your bottom lip and you part your lips. The wet muscles invades your mouth in a way that feels so reminiscent. Your tongue tangle together in a sensual, slow dance. 

Subconsciously, you’re leaning more and more back until your back hits the couch cushion. He’s hovering above you now, the hand that was on your cheek planting itself beside your head to keep his stability. You nibble gently at his lower lip, the low moan he lets out makes you feel so embarrassingly warm.

After a few minutes, he pulls back for air, practically panting. Your lips are red, kiss-swollen. Looking up at him with wide eyes like you can’t believe what just happened. He’s almost beginning to question whether he misread the situation but he glances down, noticing the way your legs part for his body to slot between. 

The moment hangs between you two, thick with unspoken understanding, as if neither of you wants to break it but both of you are struggling to catch your breath. Your chest rises and falls in time with his, and your mind races, unsure if you should stop or let this continue. But the way his body is so close to yours, the heat radiating between you, the warmth of his hand on your waist, makes it hard to think clearly. 

His eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he sees is the way your chest heaves, the flush of your skin, and how your body silently shifts beneath him as if you're inviting him closer without needing to say a word. Satoru’s hand remains by your head, bracing himself, but his other hand trails a path along your side, grazing the curves of your body, feeling the pulse of warmth beneath your skin. He leans down again, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing a kiss down to your neck, a soft sigh leaving your lips. His touch is gentle but possessive, as if he’s reclaiming something that’s always been his, as if this was meant to happen all along.

You tilt your head back, giving him more access, your fingers threading through his pale hair, pulling him closer. You can feel the way his heart races against your chest, matching the intensity of your own. His lips find yours once more, and this time, the kiss is more urgent, more demanding, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time that was lost between you two. It’s overwhelming, the way your body responds to him. You’re caught between wanting more and wanting to hold onto this fragile moment, the one where everything feels right, despite the potential mess that surrounds it. Every touch, every kiss, sends a jolt of electricity through you, reminding you of the connection that has always been there, buried deep beneath the surface.

But you pull back for a brief second, your breath shaky, trying to regain control of your racing heart. “Satoru...” Your voice is barely above a mutter, and his name on your lips feels like a whispered confession.

His eyes darken, and he leans in again, his forehead pressing against yours. “I’m not going to rush you, Y/N. I just need you to know…” His words trail off, but the intensity in his gaze is enough to fill the silence. 

You’re both teetering on the edge of something that could change everything. But in this moment, it’s not just about the kiss, or the heat between you two—it’s about the vulnerability, the trust that you’ve both allowed to fill the spaces that have been vacant for so long. And as his lips brush yours again, you can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning of something new—or the rekindling of something that was always meant to be. “I know,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Good,” he gives you one last lingering kiss, before titling his head down your jaw, kiss after kiss pants your smooth skin until it reaches your neck. Soft nibbles and sucks make your body feel like it’s on fire. A small moan leaves you, and you feel the way his lips smile against your neck. He reaches a particularly sensitive spot, your back arching into his body. He hums in acknowledgment, like he’s silently applauding himself for getting it right after all this time still. 

The sensation of his lips on your skin sends a rush of heat through your body, every kiss and nibble sparking a fire deep within you. The tender yet possessive way he touches you makes your head spin, and you can’t help but sink further into the feeling of him, his hands pulling you closer, his breath warm against your neck. His lips never stop moving, finding every spot that makes you shiver, every place that makes your body hum with need.

You grip his shoulders tighter, urging him closer, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if holding on to something real amidst the storm of emotions flooding you both. His touch is a contradiction—gentle yet firm, warm yet filled with an intensity that makes it impossible to pull away. “Do you remember how we used to…” He doesn’t finish the thought, his voice a low whisper against your skin, but the way he pulls back to look into your eyes tells you everything you need to know. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, a quiet desperation there that matches the frantic rhythm of your heart. 

You swallow thickly, barely able to form words. “I do…” you breathe out, your voice shaky as you push yourself closer to him, your lips nearly brushing his as you speak. 

His hand slides lower, resting at your hip, fingers pressing into your skin with a possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt. The heat between you two builds with every passing second. You wonder how you’ve gotten here, so tangled in each other’s arms, so lost in the intensity of everything that’s been left unsaid between you. His lips find yours again, more urgent now, as if he can’t wait any longer, as if this is everything he’s been craving. Your body responds instinctively, your hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, and in that moment, there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just a shared understanding that this is something more than just a kiss, more than just a fleeting moment. With each kiss, with each touch, the tension between you both only grows stronger, and you can’t help but ponder the idea of how much longer you’ll be able to hold back.

“Missed this….missed this….god…” he groans into your mouth. 

And you’re suddenly reminded of the fact that your son is sleeping peacefully in his room, the walls aren’t very thick ,and this—this should not be happening right now. It’s not right; you two aren’t even together, he has a fucking girlfriend, for crying out loud. 

What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?

Your body feels jittery with nerves and anticipation, the reality of the compromising situation settling in. Are you technically homewrecking right now? Or are you innocent because technically…he knows where his real home is. His lips against you feel nostalgic, but even better than what you remember. Heart pounding in your chest, breathing short—panting and he’s barely done anything.

You’re brought down back to Earth when a sneaky, warm palm squeeze softly at the inside of your thigh. You gasp unintentionally, hand shooting out to grip his wrist weakly. Half-lidded gaze meeting yours, his face is the epitome of a man on the brink of losing it.

The grip of your hand around his wrist caused a shiver to run down his spine. He liked the way you could feel how quick his pulse was, how excited he was to put his hands on you. He shifted you further back, lifting the back of your head up to lay it onto the pillow. His head bowed, his mouth hovering over your pulse point, but pausing just before he could touch you. “Let me just have a taste,” he murmured. “I won’t go any further. I just…I need this. Please.”

“Y-you always say that…” you manage to breathe out. 

“And usually I stick to that.”

Usually. 

His lips connect with your neck once more. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your skin, and his grip on your thigh and wrist tightened slightly. His tongue flicks over your pulse, and he places a second kiss, and a third. He moves down your neck, pressing kisses and soft, sharp nips to your skin. He wanted to mark you. “Just a taste.”

You find yourself barely contemplating—the rate at which you’re actually answering his shocking request baffles you. But you can’t bring yourself to care about the consequences of your choices right now—just trying to feel. A shaky nod. 

Honestly, fuck his girlfriend. 

His speed is fast, movements quick and hurried like he can’t wait, like he’s just been given permission to take a bite of his favorite sweet that he hasn’t had in so, so long. You gasp when he’s moving down your body, lifting your legs up by the back of your thighs and over his shoulders—his head finding placement between your thighs. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he whispered, his voice breathy and eager. The moment you nodded he was all over you.

He’s keeping your legs hoisted up, pushing your dress up and out of the way. He positions himself to lay on his stomach between your legs, his hands running up and down your thighs. The position is almost comical to you, his large frame barely fitting onto the small couch you own. But it’s his determination—his desperation that’s keeping you going. 

He was already breathing heavily, desperate. And he was still begging. “Just a taste.” he repeated. “Just a small one.”

He noses at your thigh, inhaling your perfect scent. Your hand finds rightful placement between his strands, looking down at the way he bunches your nightgown at your hips, revealing a pair of….plain granny panties. 

Immediately, you cringe. Legs moving to close shut, but his hold on them keeps them wide open for him to sniff at your heat like a dog. “So good….so pretty…”

Your cheeks feel hotter than your entire body, flooding with embarrassment as he continues to smell. His warm breath hitting you through the material and you flinch. “S…Satoru….I’m sorry…”

“For what?” His voice is muffled, but his eyes still flicker up to meet yours. 

“F-For not being better prepared. I’m sorry,” you gulp. 

He scoffs, kissing your inner thigh. “What are you talking about? You think I care about that? You know me, Y/N. You could have the biggest bush known to man with decade old underwear and I’d still want some of you.”

You grimace. “Satoru!”

He chuckles softly, kissing the crease of your thigh. His fingers softly rub your plush skin, easing your tense body. You let out a big puff of air, eyes raising up to the ceiling when he moves back to your underwear. Giving you a tiny kiss above the fabric, you bite your lip. Your fingers slowly begin to rub at his scalp, he momentarily stops as he basks in your touch. Humming in approval. 

“….please don’t stop,” he whispers, followed by his fingers latching onto the hem of your underwear. 

You let out a shaky sigh, hips lifting slightly to help him. He pulls down the fabric in a methodical way, giving you enough time to register what’s happening and possibly pull away if you feel like it. Again, you don’t pull away. The granny panties move down your legs until he’s tossing it to the side on the floor. And once his eyes zero in on your glistening cunt waiting for him, his pupils dilate ever wider (if possible). “Wow,” he sighs in fascination. 

His stare always makes you feel bare, but especially now. You can’t help feeling self-conscious about the way you look down there. Not that there’s anything wrong, but you know he’s been intimate with another woman. Your mind swirls with implications that he’s secretly hiding his disgust behind a dopey smile and mesmerized, gleaming eyes. Your hips twitch. “I—sorry.”

“For what?” He asks again.

“If I look different.”

“You look as beautiful as you always do, maybe even more,” he replies easily, the sight of your pussy capturing his full attention as he leans closer. “Can I show you, please? I love it so fucking much.” 

God, his mouth. His bright blues make eye contact with you once more, waiting for an answer. Finally, you nod. “…yes, Satoru.”

And that’s all the confirmation he needs. You gasp out as he dives in, sucking first at your puffy clit that peeks at him. Instinctively, your fingers tighten around his hair, hips jerking up, but he pushes them back down. He moans when your sweet taste melts on his tongue like ice cream, tongue prodding and swirling in circular motions. Your head tilts further back, mouth agape, trying to keep up with his speed. 

But you never could. 

“S-sa—” you’re cut off when he spits roughly, subsequently whimpering in a shivering manner when his tongue enters your squeezing hole. “F-fuck…oh….fuck, Satoru.”

“So good,” his tone sounds like a whine, fingers tightening around your thighs while he forces you closer to his mouth, almost like he’s trying to suffocate himself in you. His mouth works your pussy in a way that makes you see stars, pleading for more. 

His teeth nibble very softly at your clit, followed by a wet kiss, and then a slobbery suck. He’s always worked messy, your wetness drowning his face in it, running down until it pools onto the cushion beneath you. He shoves his face deeper, the tip of his perky nose poking your nub while his mouth focuses on your hole. He tilts his head, almost like he’s french kissing your pussy, moaning and mumbling nonsense. You make out small things like ‘so good’, ‘yes, please, yes’, and ‘how fucking good you taste’. 

You bite down on your free hand to keep your noises within hold, but of course, that proves meaningless against Satoru’s ruthless mouth. “A-ah…S-Satoru…I—”

His tongue moves back into your quivering hole, feeling the way you squeeze and he can only wonder how good that would feel against his hard cock that he’s rutting shamelessly into the cushion. Your thighs close around his head, eyes rolling back when a familiar warmth coils at your lower gut, hips jerking and toes curling up. 

He senses it, doesn’t need to ask. 

He continues his ministrations, making noises that sound so fucking obnoxiously hot that you feel a countdown until your warm cum oozes out in such a captivating way. He’s lapping it all up, not letting a single drop go to waste. Your chest heaves, panting like you’ve just run a fucking mile. Even after you’ve cum on his tongue, he’s still eating you like he’s starving. 

You whine and whimper, pulling at his strands. “Satoru…c-can’t….ngh….”

“Just…a little…more…” he pants. 

And you honestly have no objections. Even if you feel overstimulated, even if you wish he’d give your pussy a damn break from his vicious mouth. It’s all worth it in the end when he pulls back, his mouth and chin coated in your juices. 

And he still looks like he hasn’t had enough. 

It’s a sight that feels straight out of a romance novel. A man so desperately yearning for a simple eating that he looks almost crazed. But to him, it’s not simple. It’s everything. Every part of you is everything to Satoru. Your reactions are a bonus, your hazy eyes, parted mouth, strands of hair sticking to your forehead…it’s all worth it. 

His eyes tear up again, a broken laugh falling from his lips. “Beautiful. Always have been, always will be.”

You can’t speak, offering a noncommittal huff. 

He leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. You stick your tongue out, faintly tasting yourself. He gives another to the tip of your nose, for forehead, then finally your lips before he’s nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. 

Your chests meet each other in timed rises, arms feeling limp as you wrap them around his neck. No words are spoken, just allowing yourselves to be present in the moment—in each other’s touch. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your neck. 

Your throat is dry as you respond. “…m…mhm…”

He laughs again, softer this time. Feeling his arms loop around your waist and tugging your body closer to his like he’s trying to fuse you two. He inhales deeply. “…can I stay?”

You breath out, fanning his ear. “Yes, please.”

His smile is ever-present, letting his eyes flutter closed. Your arms tighten around him, bringing him as close as physically possible. He lets you do so. 

The silence between you two feels comfortable, almost like the world outside this moment has fallen away. You can hear the steady rhythm of his breath, and the way his body feels against yours makes you realize just how much you've missed him—his presence, his warmth. His hand runs gently up and down your back, a soothing, almost instinctual motion, and you feel your heartbeat steady with it. The vulnerability, the tenderness in his touch, it's as if he's trying to make up for the lost time, showing in every quiet movement how much he's there, how much he cares.

"Are you okay?" His voice is soft, and there's an undercurrent of something raw in it.

You nod against his shoulder, not trusting your voice for a moment. The weight of everything—the past, the future, the unsaid words—feels less heavy in this space, this fragile moment where nothing is expected of you. You just are, and for the first time in what feels like forever, that’s enough.

“I am now," you whisper, holding onto him just a little tighter, as if you’re afraid that if you let go, this peace might slip away. He hums in agreement, his fingers tracing light patterns on your skin. 

As you drift off to sleep, you don’t question the dampness of the tears you feel hit your neck or the way his breath hitches. 

a/n: hi guyssss! thank you for ur patience. I'm a little self-conscious about my transitions between scenes in this chap and i wish i could’ve dragged out the mom scene more but the wc was looking 🫣🫣🫣 anywho I really hope u enjoyed :)

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[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 - 𝕖.𝕞.

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: hope y’all like CHEESE, reader wears glasses

part two | part three

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent and lame but i hope y’all enjoy xx.

“You’re staring… again.”

Nancy says under her breath, which has your eyes immediately darting away and back down toward your lunch out of sheer embarrassment.

“I was not staring….” you hiss, picking at the pile of peas on your tray.

“Oh, you soooo were,” she laughs, knocking her shoulder into yours. “Why don’t you just go and talk to him?”

You let out an exasperated breath before glancing over at your best friend. She’s giving you that soft yet encouraging gaze that’s entirely Nancy.

“Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me?”

Your voice is softer, but that underlying fear bleeds through nonetheless.

“I’m just so….” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip. “Boring.”

Your eyes have drifted back over to the hellfire table, where they seem to find themselves almost every lunch period now. Totally entranced by the male sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie Munson, dungeon master and local metalhead. Also the guy you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on since your junior year.

He looks even prettier with the afternoon sun shining through the windows of the cafeteria, highlighting the warm chestnut hue of his fluffy curls. His lips are poised in an annoyed pout, fingers drumming on the table in rapid succession while he listens to Dustin’s nervous ramblings.

“He’s just so— outgoing and doesn’t give two shits what these dipshits around here think of him.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up into a small smile when you witness him tossing a pretzel at Mike’s head.

“You are not boring,” Nancy sighs, her curls bouncing when she shakes her head. “But you’re not gonna know if something could work out between you if you don’t at least try.”

Your snort has her rolling her eyes, but yours are still transfixed on the boy in question. So much so that you haven’t noticed the way your glasses continue to slip down the bridge of your nose.

“I doubt he even knows my name, Nance.”

When your eyes suddenly catch his chocolatey brown ones, you feel mortified. You’ve been very careful about your…admiring during lunch or in between classes. But Nancy had momentarily distracted you, and now you’d been caught red handed.

Unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed your wandering gaze. Soft eyes that are filled with the utmost longing and kindness. Someone with a reputation such as Eddie Munson doesn’t have looks like that thrown his way very often.

So it’s no surprise he’s caught on.

But you don’t seem to notice the way he always glances back once you look away, dark eyes seeking out your figure in the halls. The longing of his own for you to finally meet his gaze. But your nose is either stuck in a book or those pretty eyes are trained on your feet.

It was maddening.

You quickly break his curious stare and jump to your feet, missing the way he shoots up from his own chair. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and leave your tray abandoned.

“I gotta go…I’ll see you later, Nance,” you say before she even has time to protest, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the exit.

Mentally still kicking yourself for being caught gawking at him like some bumbling idiot. But your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the slapping of sneakers on the linoleum behind you.

Before you can even process what’s happening you all but collide into a denim clad chest, gasping softly when his arms slip around your waist to catch you before you almost stumble backwards onto your ass.

“Whoa, easy there,” he chuckles, those same pouty lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

When he releases you, your whole body deflates— already missing the warmth of his palms. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Uh…sorry, did you need something?” you ask, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.

He purses his lips, twisting his rings on his fingers in almost a nervous manner.

Why would he be nervous?

“I just had a question is all…” he mumbles, “and honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.”

And your heart nearly stops when he carefully pushes your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

“You free tonight?”

[girlbeyondthegrave]

THINGS I NOTICED WHILE WATCHING BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE AGAIN:

This is a very Beetlebabes-centric post, so if you don’t like the ship, please feel free to scroll away. <3

Beetlejuice cut Delores’ ring finger off, and while it was originally a fun joke in the first movie, there’s deep implications about that action when we look at it with the context of the second film. Beetlejuice attacked her after she betrayed him. Anyone would want to kill the person that poisoned them, but the fact that he took the time to find her finger and deliberately cut her ring finger off (and ONLY that finger) reflects how much that marriage meant to him. It also symbolizes that he’s effectively dissolving their marriage. He’s cut off the physical representation of their love and taken the ring, which he tries to give to Lydia hundreds of years later. He held onto that ring for centuries in hopes of finding someone he deemed worthy of it.

He calls his dynamic with Lydia a long-distance relationship, which could’ve been a throwaway joke if not for the fact that when he clearly notices how hot Janet is, he never talks to her or gropes her like he did with Barbara prior to meeting Lydia. Keaton said BJ wouldn’t be politically correct, so this isn’t to reflect the current political climate, but rather to reflect BJ’s motivations.

Beetlejuice was jobless at the start of the first movie, and in thirty years he’s built a company for his bio-exorcisms. Coupled with the picture of Lydia on his desk, it’s possible he did this to impress her. After all, she’s famous and rich now. BJ’s gotta step it up, y’know?

Probably overheard the convo between Lydia and Rory and deliberately bugged her at that time, because if he can possess the phone or whatever, he can probably use it to eavesdrop. This can be further supported by how he got rid of the influencers but kept the people that mattered to Lydia present—Delia and Astrid.

We can also assume he overheard the conversation where Lydia said that Rory loves her and that has to be enough because of the panning to a gravestone. BJ has a special fascination with graveyards, even tiny model ones. If he did overhear them, it explains why he used the truth serum on Rory. He’s testing him. He wants to see if this guy actually loves Lydia or if he’s using her, and then he gives Lydia the means to exact revenge on Rory rather than doing anything himself.

Lydia spends half the movie being strong -armed into a marriage with Rory, and in a way, it’s reminiscent of the first movie’s marriage attempt. Rory dangles their “love” in front of her like a carrot, and if she doesn’t want to be alone, she has to accept his manipulation and agree to get married. Yet she immediately offers it to Beetlejuice, only sounding annoyed rather than terrified. And the movie spends a lot of time proving that BJ has sincere motives this time around, whereas Rory doesn’t. It pushes an underlying message that if one of these guys is going to be a better choice, it’ll be BJ.

Despite Lydia having a tendency to back out of their deals, he still helps her first. He prioritizes saving Astrid even before finding his “runaway bride” again.

Casually calls Lydia the love of his life, looks so sincere when he says he’ll make her so happy. Clearly spent those 30 years planning that dream-dance sequence.

He doesn’t seem to care that Lydia’s sending him away. That coupled with the end scene illustrates how confident he is this time around. Lydia is still stuck with him, and even if he didn’t get her this time, he will eventually. But he also knows how spooked she is by marriage after being a snoop, so it’s possible that he’s just taking it slow on purpose.

In conclusion: Beetlejuice genuinely does want to be with Lydia and care about her. His feelings have evolved beyond permanent residence in the mortal world. If anything, if he still wants that, it’s so he can be by her side.

[lillymmb]

"Finish Line"

husband!charles leclerc x interviewer wife!reader

warning: none

summary: you are a interviewer and you go to interview your husband after race.

It had been a long race day. The sun was setting over the Monaco Grand Prix, casting a golden hue over the circuit as the cars rolled into the paddock after a grueling race. The crowd was still buzzing, the air thick with excitement, but inside the Ferrari garage, Charles Leclerc was both exhausted and elated. He had finished strong, a solid podium finish, but his mind kept drifting to one thing—and one person.

You.

You, the sharp-witted, kind-hearted interviewer who had somehow become more than just a face on the grid to him. The two of you had met years ago, when he was still rising through the ranks. You were a reporter at the time, covering F1 for one of the biggest sports networks, and there had always been an undeniable connection between you two. What had started as a professional interview blossomed into something much deeper—a friendship that grew into love.

Now, years later, you were no longer just an interviewer for the press. You were his interviewer. You had been married for almost a year, a beautiful and intimate wedding that had taken place in the heart of Monaco, far from the watchful eyes of the media. You both had done your best to keep the relationship under wraps, but when you were in a room together, there was no hiding the way you looked at each other. The love was clear to anyone who saw you.

As Charles walked into the media pen, his heart raced not because of the crowd or the anticipation, but because he knew you were waiting for him. You were set to do your usual post-race interview with him, and although it was just another professional exchange on the outside, to him, it was something far more personal.

You stood in front of him, holding a microphone, your eyes lighting up as he approached. The moment you locked eyes, he felt that familiar spark. You both exchanged a quick, affectionate glance, but quickly composed yourselves as you began the interview.

“Charles, congratulations on a strong finish today!” You smiled, your tone warm but professional. “How do you feel about your performance today?”

Charles chuckled, wiping sweat from his forehead, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “It was a tough race, but I’m happy with the result. The car was great, and my team did an amazing job.”

You nodded, maintaining your composure, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered as you watched him. He was glowing—physically tired, yes, but still exuding that charm that had first drawn you to him.

“And, of course, with this result, it means more points for the championship standings,” you continued. “How do you feel about the way the season is shaping up for you and the team?”

Charles leaned in slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye, his voice lowering just a little. “I think it’s going to be a great season. But you know what? I’m just happy I have a lot of things to look forward to, both on and off the track.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the heat of his words, though he kept his tone light. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the race. There was an underlying meaning, a private moment only the two of you shared, and you could see the spark of something in his eyes. But, of course, you couldn’t let your personal relationship slip into the interview just yet.

“Of course,” you replied, trying to maintain your professionalism. “And speaking of looking forward to things, we all know how hectic this life can be. How do you balance your career with, well, everything else?”

Charles paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours, and the room seemed to quieten. “Well, it helps to have someone special by your side,” he said softly, his voice steady but with a vulnerability that only you could detect. “Someone who gets it. And, you know… someone who keeps me grounded.”

The subtle confession hung in the air, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. You knew he was referring to you, and your heart skipped a beat at the way he spoke so openly, even in front of the cameras. But you had learned to read his cues by now—there was only so much he could say in public.

As the interview wrapped up, Charles stepped a little closer to you. “I’m done here,” he said with a grin, clearly eager to leave the media chaos behind. “Let’s go somewhere quieter, yeah?”

You nodded, trying to suppress the excitement coursing through your veins. You knew exactly where this was heading.

As you both made your way toward the back of the paddock, the sounds of the crowd and the camera flashes faded into the background. You turned to him, glancing up at his handsome face, and before you could say a word, his hand found yours.

“I’ve missed you,” Charles murmured, his voice low and sincere, filled with longing.

“You saw me this morning,” you teased lightly, though your heart was racing.

“I mean, really missed you.” His thumb gently caressed your hand, sending a rush of warmth through your body. “Every time I leave you, it’s like there’s a part of me that stays behind.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and without thinking, you stopped walking, turning to face him. There was a hunger in his eyes, a need that mirrored your own.

“Charles,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “We’re in public.”

He didn’t care. His hand came up to your cheek, gently cupping it, his thumb brushing across your skin. “I don’t care. I’ve waited all day for this moment.”

And before you could protest or say another word, his lips were on yours, gentle at first but quickly deepening as he pulled you closer. The kiss was everything you had both been holding back, a rush of passion and relief as the world around you seemed to disappear. It was raw and real and completely unapologetic.

You moaned softly against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as he deepened the kiss, pressing you against the cool metal of the paddock wall. There was no race, no crowd, no cameras—just the two of you, lost in each other.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily, he smiled. “I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you this morning.”

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “You’re insufferable.”

Charles grinned. “You love it.”

You smirked, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I do. But we should probably get out of here before someone sees us.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, taking your hand once more. “I’m married to you. I’m proud of it.”

You smiled, knowing that despite the rush of being part of this high-stakes world, it was moments like this—private, genuine—that made everything worth it.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “Let’s go home.”

And with that, you both walked away, side by side, ready to face whatever the world had for you, but more than anything, ready to enjoy the quiet moments together.

a/n: i love charles so much i wish i was a formula 1 interviewer

© LILLYMMB do not repost and do not copy!

[mxrcurysb1tch]

‧₊˚ 🪐༘⋆ જ⁀➴ Astrology observations pt. III ‧₊˚🪐༘⋆

Finally back with another post… after a month… as always take what resonates and leave the rest!

⭑.ᐟ The way I like to think about the sun, moon and rising is this: Your moon is who you are when everything else is stripped away from you. It is how you process your emotions and it’s the filter through which you see the world. It is the baseline “you” that you revert back to when you are running on empty. The rising is who you are at your best. When you’re operating from your rising sign you are at your peak performance. It’s probably the you that feels happiest. It is also who you aspire to be in life, who you want to be seen as. The sun is the “middle piece” it’s essence floats throughout your entire chart. I think of it as a subtle influence that underlies every part of you. Whenever you do anything there is always a part of your sun inside that action, thought or decision. I also like to think that the rising sign is the way in which you express your sun. For example, if you’re a Gemini sun and a Leo rising, you will express your Gemini in a Leo way.

⭑.ᐟ Fire moons may have felt like they couldn’t express negative emotions growing up and had to always seem positive and upbeat. Now they might have problems with opening up or admitting that they even experience sadness and pain. They might be masters at putting on a front with people even when they are losing it completely inside.

⭑.ᐟ Venus dominant people/strong Venus ie, Venus in Taurus (or Libra) Venus in 1h, Venus as chart ruler. They might be preoccupied with looks, their own and that of their partner. They can be very picky when it comes to choosing someone to date, which can be a good thing but can sometimes stop them from making real deep connections with people. They need to be careful not to choose people just based on looks.

⭑.ᐟ Saturn and Venus conjunction can look like someone who is blessed with a lot of material wealth but feels like it could be taken away at any time. It could also look like someone who loves to be given princess treatment/spoiled but feels very guilty when receiving money and time from other people. Natives can also feel guilty about their own wealth and have a deep understanding that not everyone is as fortunate as they are.

⭑.ᐟ Women with Capricorn placements / prominent Saturn love getting tattoos and piercings. It’s something about the permanence of it and perhaps a little about the pain… as is Saturn’s “motto” no pain no gain.

⭑.ᐟ Pluto in the 7h- extreme jealousy in relationships. Either you attract it or you are the jealous one. Also a lot of instability with friendships. Moving friend groups a lot, not having stable friendships or relationships throughout your life. A lot of projection onto the other person, mirroring back their behaviours. It’s not a comfortable placement to have especially if it’s in synastry too.

⭑.ᐟ Sagittarius moons are super extroverted and love being out in the world BUT they also really love spending time in their rooms. Maybe this is bc the 2 sag moons that I know both have earth suns but I’ve noticed that they spend a lot of time in their rooms gaming and hiding away.

⭑.ᐟ Nobody talks enough about how funny Aquarius placements are, especially moon and sun. In my experience they are the best at coming up with hilarious inside jokes.

⭑.ᐟ People with planets in the 1h (especially if it’s the sun or moon or a stellium) are so genuine and you can tell they are not hiding who they truly are, they couldn’t if they tried. They have a kind of congruency to who they are, and not as many layers to peel back (this does not mean that they aren’t complex people, just that they are real!) What you see is what you get with them! Also they really tend to embody the planets that are within this house. For example, my friend is a cancer rising with her mercury in the 1st. I always thought she was a Gemini rising because she talks so much, even more than me as a Gemini rising LOL and she’s very analytical, but she just has a 1h mercury!