#I like to think that if I don't make people question why I have a keyboard

[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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[little-jana]

"Fractured Edges"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: angst

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: raised voices, emotional distress, fighting, case-talk, self-doubt, unresolved conflict, no comfort, mentions of Maeve

Summary: Spencer’s anger and fear explode after you put yourself in danger without telling him.

You had never seen Spencer Reid this angry before.

Not when cases went sideways. Not when he was on the receiving end of ridicule. Not even when his own life was at risk.

But now? Now, as he stood in front of you, his hands clenched into fists, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths—you realized there was an entirely different side of Spencer you had never seen before. One that wasn’t built from logic and facts, but from raw, unfiltered emotion.

And it terrified you.

"You lied to me," he snapped, his voice like glass breaking against concrete.

Your stomach twisted. "Spencer, I didn’t—"

"Don't." He shook his head, his jaw tight, his entire body rigid with barely restrained fury. "Don't insult me by pretending like it wasn’t a lie."

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling deep in your chest. "I didn't tell you because I knew how you'd react."

His laugh was hollow, bitter. "Oh, so you knew I’d be upset? That makes it better?" He took a step forward, his eyes burning into yours. "What else have you kept from me?"

The question hit you harder than it should have.

"It wasn’t about you, Spencer," you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I made a choice, and I stand by it."

"A choice?" His voice wavered, disbelief coloring every syllable. "You put yourself in danger, you took risks that could’ve—" He cut himself off, running a shaking hand through his hair.

You knew he was struggling to keep his composure. To hold back the fear that had transformed into anger.

And somehow, that hurt more than the words themselves.

"I did what I had to do," you said softly, but the words felt weak.

Spencer let out a sharp exhale, pacing now, hands gripping his hair in frustration. "God, you sound just like—" He stopped himself.

Your stomach dropped. "Like who?"

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t have to.

Maeve.

The name sat between you like an open wound, fresh and bleeding.

You sucked in a breath. "Spencer..."

"Don’t," he said again, but this time it wasn’t sharp—it was broken.

You wanted to reach for him, to tell him that this wasn’t the same, that he wasn’t losing you, that you weren’t her.

But the look in his eyes told you it didn’t matter.

He felt like he was losing you. And maybe, in a way, he already had.

“Tell me why you did it.”

The demand was quiet, but it didn’t lack force. Spencer had stopped pacing, his gaze pinning you to the spot.

You hesitated. He deserved an answer. You owed him that much.

But how could you explain it to him?

How could you put into words the way your stomach had twisted when you realized the danger—how it wasn’t a reckless decision but a necessary one? How could you explain that if you hadn’t done what you did, people would have died?

That he could have died?

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Because it was the only option.”

“That’s bullshit,” Spencer snapped. His voice was sharper now, cutting through the tension like a blade. “There are always options. You just didn’t trust me enough to find another one.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s not true—”

“Isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t name. “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t talk to me. You just—just decided without even thinking about what it would mean for the rest of us.”

For me.

The words weren’t spoken, but you heard them anyway.

You took a step forward. “Spencer, I wasn’t trying to shut you out.”

“But you did.” His voice wavered. “You did, and now you’re standing here, acting like I’m the one being unreasonable for being angry about it.”

You flinched. “I don’t think you’re being unreasonable.”

“No?” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, his entire posture defensive, bracing. “Then why do you keep acting like this is something we can just move past?

Because you had to.

Because if you didn’t, if you stayed in this place of hurt and anger, you weren’t sure you’d ever come back from it.

But looking at Spencer now, at the way his hands were shaking, at the way his breath hitched when he tried to speak—you realized that maybe he wasn’t sure if he could come back from this either.

“I was scared,” you admitted. The words felt foreign, raw. “I knew what I was doing was dangerous, but it wasn’t about shutting you out, Spencer. It wasn’t about you.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?”

You frowned. “What?”

His voice was quieter now, but the anger hadn’t faded—it had only settled, simmering beneath the surface.

“I wasn’t part of the equation,” he said. “You didn’t think about what this would do to me. To the team. You just decided that you’d handle it alone.”

The words stung.

You wanted to argue. To tell him that he was wrong, that you had thought about him—about all of them.

But had you?

Had you really stopped, for even a second, to think about what it would feel like for them to watch you put yourself in danger without so much as a word of warning?

Your silence must have given you away because Spencer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“Spence, I—”

“You keep saying it wasn’t about me.” His voice cracked, and that was what finally shattered you. “But don’t you get it? It is about me. About all of us. About what happens when we lose someone else because they thought they could do it alone.”

He didn’t have to say her name.

The ghost of Maeve lingered between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

And now, you had wedged yourself into the same space—another person he cared about, another person who made a choice without him, another person who could have been taken away just as easily.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, and suddenly, it wasn’t anger in his eyes anymore. It was fear.

A deep, bone-deep kind of fear that made your chest ache.

You took a shaky breath. “You won’t.”

His lips pressed together in a thin line. “How can you be so sure?”

Because you weren’t.

And neither was he.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, like a thread pulled too tight.

Finally, Spencer inhaled sharply and took a step back. It was small, barely noticeable, but it felt like a chasm opening between you.

“I need time,” he said.

Your heart clenched. “Spencer—”

“I need time,” he repeated, and this time, his voice was steady. Firm.

Final.

And then he turned, walking away before you could stop him.

You didn’t chase after him.

You didn’t call out his name.

Because for the first time since you had known him, you weren’t sure if he wanted to be caught.

And that?

That hurt more than anything else.

[iregularlyevadetaxes]

sorry this is probably proving the point but i can't stop thinking about the reddit comment you posted where everyone in the notes was agreeing with "short women are weirdos about height." can sivi followers expand on that genuine question. being 4'11 and perceived as a 12 year old is like the bane of my existence so i complain about it all the time is this more annoying than i thought. i've seen people accuse short women of infantilizing themselves and acting like children on purpose when they're pursuing men which is what some of the notes seem to be saying… i'm not into men but i've been accused of acting like a child on purpose as well and it's kind of bizarre to me but maybe it's true for others (tbh i think it often is for straight women in general). can y'all explain

i'm not even that short (4'11 is what I would actually consider short) but have a smaller body frame and get some odd comments comparing me to a child. are there creeps like that? yes. is it the responsibility of smaller women to not "attract" them? I just don't care anymore. I like to wear cute/childish things because they make me happy and if someone's a creep over it that's their fucking problem. bitches can't even have whimsy now...SAD.

also I think a lot of people are projecting here wrt height because i've gotten oddly accusatory asks about height preferences when i've never even said anything about it. so by what means are we determining short women only like tall men? just seeing a couple like that, making the assumption, getting mad, and telling reddit about it? literally incel shit lmao

also

>tbh I think it often is for straight women in general

probably because a lot of romance media marketed to straight women tells them it's desirable to men. like look at older hollywood movies where a mid-20s model lusts over the main character who could be her dad's age. or all the plotlines where men leave older women for younger ones (notice this is really only 'a thing' in real life among egotistical celebrities, and guess who stars in and directs those movies?) anyway i'm the pattern noticer. i'm always noticing things. also I could write an essay on how a lot of what we identify as pedophilia is a result of social engineering and not innate sexuality. and no, I am not saying this in a right wing "teachers are grooming kids to be WOKE!!" way, i'm saying any patriarchal society includes subordination of women and children and that is something that needs to be drilled into your brain at some point because you don't accept it by default. just like any social injustice really--you will follow the narrative or you'll be violently corrected. ok this post got kinda dark but it IS a topic I enjoy analyzing, in part to answer questions I have about my own experiences. and yes, I could absolutely explain why my political opinions and what i'm attracted to seem contradictory. do not even try because if something exists I will manage to connect it to politics

[aayakashii]

For seven days (non-consecutive) I'll be posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker!

All prompts come from this post here ♡

And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶

Taglist: @wannaberecluse

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

Valentine's Day in Jabberwock

Haru

how does he show affection?

Through his touches and his words. Haru is extremely touchy, constantly squeezing you in a hug as soon as he sees you and always holding your hand. He likes to pinch your cheeks, boop your nose, and call you all sorts of cheesy nicknames. He's open with his affection and has no qualms with saying how much he's in love with you. Sunshine in human form.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

LOVES hugs. Sometimes you need to remind him he spent hours under the sun, doing heavy work and he's SWEATY, because his base instinct when he sees you is to give the biggest bear hug. He even rubs his cheek against your hair while he talks about how much he wanted to see you and all the things he needs to show you.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's good at that type of silly flirting where you can't help but be endeared by how goofy he is. He'll be saying things like "you know what's in the menu? 'Me n u' gyahaha!" while nudging you with his elbow. You may roll your eyes and slap your forehead, but you always give in to him in the end.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He's kinda bad at it. It's best if you tell him what gifts you expect. Otherwise, he will give you some random home appliances that he wanted to buy all along and will use you as an excuse to get it. It's all in good heart, though, because he genuinely believes you'd like it as much as he does. Now, if you tell him what you'd like as a gift, he'll definitely get what you asked for.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Quick. Haru thinks being in love is a great thing. Why make things difficult? He just walked up to you after he realized he was in love and let you know about it. If you don't feel the same, that's okay. He'd be sad for a little while, but life would go on. It's a good thing you feel exactly the same as him, huh?

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Very easy. He's very open with his emotions. When he's sad, he's openly sad. When he's angry, he's explicitly angry. When he's in love, he's gonna let you and the whole world know about it. There's no mystery to it.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not really. To be honest, Haru has a hard time noticing when someone might be taking a pass at you, so it usually flies over his head. And he feels very secure in his relationship with you because he trusts you the most. After all, you're his partner, so he's completely sure that you won't hurt him ever.

what is his ideal date?

Just spending the day with you without the burden of his whole House on his back. Jabberwock is constantly in Haru's mind, the animals, Towa, and Ren. He would love to have one day with you in which he didn't need to worry about anything. It doesn't matter what it is, he just wants to be fully present, with just you in his mind, for once in his life.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Haru will propose, but it's not due to him wanting to be the one who does it. It's just that he's impatient – if it depended on him, you two would be hitched from the very beginning. He just decided to wait a reasonable (not really) amount of time before popping the question so he wouldn't scare you

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Great for creating a special Valentine's Day safari and getting some extra cash in Jabberwock’s empty vault. He tells you beforehand that he'll be busy due to the influx of people and apologize for not being able to spend all day with you. He'll give you special treatment if you visit him during the day though. (Offer yourself to help him with the tours and he'll basically cry out of happiness).

does he get protective easily?

Very much so, which is why you have a bunch of apps you've never seen before suddenly installed in your phone. Haru is busy, so he can't be constantly around you, but he makes up for it with the most obsessive surveillance known to man. If one of his apps beeps, alerting him that you might be in distress, he's immediately at your side (because he knows your location 24/7, obviously).

does he believe in true love?

Yes. He was always sure it existed all throughout the world, even if it never came to him. But once you two got together, he believes in it even more.

Towa

how does he show affection?

Through himself as a whole. Everything he does is a way to express his love for you. He's constantly hugging you, kissing you, giving you flowers, and looking into your eyes as if you're the prettiest human being he has ever seen. And during the night, he tells you exactly that.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

Loves them. He always tackles you plenty of times per day, every day, in the tightest hugs known to man. He always leaves you breathless, with a few leaves stuck on your hair and clothes, and the earthy scent of wildflowers. He loves even more when you take the initiative and hug him first, though. It always ends up with him whining because you said that no, he can't just keep hugging you all day.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's good, but it's not really intentional. Most times, when he wants something from you, he just explicitly says it, like saying he wants a kiss or attention. But then when you two are watching the stars and he looks at you and says you're cute, you can almost believe he knows exactly what he's doing.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

Well... Towa is just gonna give you flowers. He'll make offerings of all the prettiest flowers with the most romantic meanings, but it'll always be flowers. If you tell him you want something else, it probably won't work and he'll be pouting, thinking you don't like his offerings.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Very quick. If he falls in love with you and decides you're his soulmate, he'll immediately let you know that you're his. There's no sense in dilly-dallying. Time apart from his soulmate is time wasted.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Easy. Why would he think that he can't say 'I love you' to his partner? Isn't it the whole point? Avoiding his feelings is the last thing in his mind.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

He's jealousy personified, to the point that he might be an actual danger to your friends and colleagues. Towa hates when your attention isn't on him. He hates when someone tries to steal you away from him (aka a teacher required your presence while you were hanging out with Towa). It's a good thing that the stormy clouds are quickly dispelled just by having you back at his side.

what is his ideal date?

He has his ideal date with you every day. He just needs you, fully focused on him, laying down beside him under the starry sky. To make it even more perfect, maybe you two could be surrounded by his favorite flowers, but he's plenty satisfied with things as they are.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Surprisingly, he doesn't think too much about it. His fairytale-like dreams always stopped right when he found his destined partner and decided to live happily ever after. He never got to the wedding part of it all. You might be the one to ask first, and he's fine with it. If you want to make your bond even tighter, he's happy to oblige.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He knows about it. He thinks it's fun to see Kaito getting all flustered about being confessed to, but he genuinely thinks that's all that Valentine's Day is – a day to confess to crushes. Since you two are already together, he thinks it isn't important anymore. You have to explain to him that established couples also celebrate it, and as soon as he finds out, he'll be pouting. Why didn't you tell him beforehand?

does he get protective easily?

It comes with the awful jealousy. Everyone is a threat, everything could take you away from him. The only way to quell his worries is by letting him stay by your side 24/7. There's no other way around it.

does he believe in true love?

Of course. Otherwise, soulmates wouldn't exist. You two are proof of it.

Ren

how does he show affection?

Through his actions. He's bad with words and emotionally constipated, but he shows he cares for you through little actions he would never do with anyone else. He'd pick up medicine and food for you if you're sick; he'd quietly spend time with you if you need company; he'd try to make you play his games and watch his movies and do the same with yours. Textbook tsundere.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He acts and says that he hates them, but immediately sulks when you let him go and apologize for the sudden hug. He loves YOUR hugs, but no one else's. His hugs are awkward and stiff (he might even give you some pats on the back) but you make up for it with enthusiasm.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

Terrible. Doesn't know what he's doing, can't flirt to save his life. Incapable of winking and would die before asking for a peck on the cheek. Most times, you're the one flustering him because even if you're bad at flirting, you're not as bad as he is.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

Kinda good, actually. He listens to you when you're talking about your hyperfixations, so he knows about your tastes. His gifts might not be very romantic, though, unless a Lego set or some rare doll you mentioned twice is romantic to you.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

SLOOOOOOWWW. Ren will deny his feelings for you until it is physically, mentally, spiritually, and metaphysically impossible to deny that he's madly in love. He'll be blushing, leaning towards you, looking at your lips with a hand over his racing heart, but he still has the gall to say that maybe he's just sick.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Terribly hard. If he's that bad at admitting his feelings to himself, how would he admit his feelings for you? Again, he tries to compensate for all the times he can't voice his love openly through acts of service, but it's all very annoying and frustrating to him.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

It's a dangerous mix of jealousy and self-deprecation. He thinks you'd probably do better with someone who isn't a shut-in like him or someone actually in touch with their emotions. So, any little interaction between you and another person triggers his jealousy. He gets passive-aggressive and sulks until you finally get tired of his antics and slap his head to snap him out of it. Having a tsundere as a boyfriend isn't always cute after all.

what is his ideal date?

Just being able to spend time with you without Haru interrupting would be enough. He wants to have a date in which you two watch all your favorite movies together and eat the best snacks to your heart's content without being suddenly jumpscared by a red-headed man barging into the room.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He didn't even know he was going to date someone ever, so a wedding was out of question. Not that he minded, he always thought the ceremony sucked. However, now he feels like proposing to you first is a way to show you how much he cares and how much he genuinely loves you without using words. A ring to represent all the times words shouldn't have failed him.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Hates it. Ren thinks it's a capitalist holiday that wants to bleed couples dry of their money, not to mention that the atmosphere is awfully cringey and he would never be caught dead buying overpriced chocolate and ugly plushies. Well, that was until he started dating you (he still thinks all that but now he buys the things).

does he get protective easily?

Not really, because he usually feels like he needs protection as well, what with all the unfortunate events that tend to happen to him. He will try his best if you're in imminent danger, but during his day-to-day life, he just trusts in your capability to stay in one piece.

does he believe in true love?

CRINGE. he kinda does because of you

[omorithedreamermod]

FEBRUARY DEVLOG - 1

The third DEVLOG has arrived...this time spelled correctly! Lots of progress has been made since the last update!

IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

So, about saves! I don't know if people noticed the edited DEVLOG from last time, but...it seems that you WILL be able to use your demo saves for the prelude! Testing looks good so far, so hoping it stays this way. Thank goodness, because now all those watermelons you collected in HEADSPACE won't be for nothing! Why is that...? Well! Hehe...

PROGRESS:

Remember how last time I said majority of maps were completed? That was incorrect. NOW the majority are done and only a couple are left. I've made so many maps this week. Thumbs up (fades into dust)

NPCs got cooked up. Basically all are complete, unless a couple more are needed, but for now, basically a done task. Some character sprite art needs to be made still, but not a lot!

All battle art is complete, including enemies, and portraits. They have also been programmed in, so they are fully functional, and battles are a done task! Wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be, thankfully! Battlebacks still need to be made, but those are relatively quick.

OST...I said last time it was near complete. I was wrong. NOW it's near complete. At the moment, there are currently 44 tracks for the full dreamer prelude (including the demo tracks!). There's still a couple more to be made, but definitely mostly done ^^ It's going to be a LONG compilation video!

Writing was on the back-burner while I was focusing on creating assets. That doesn't mean there wasn't progress! Still, from this point on, writing and programming will be a main focus now that majority of assets are complete.

Portraits are not all complete. SUNNY needs more hospital portraits, and BASIL also needs new real world portraits! Those will take a bit...

Currently, all the mirror locations still need to be done, which means completing the battle-backs first. There is also a new title screen art that needs to be done. Along with that...a major, drawn cutscene, and another rougher cutscene...and maybe another short one, as well as art for the credits. A lot of art to do...

NOTES:

March is looking bright! Very bright! One part of the panic now comes from hoping I can program and write everything in a speedy manner, including NPC dialogue and miscellaneous stuff. Once again, a ton of the content is optional. But, like the DEMO, you are rewarded for you investment ^^ There's also a lot of secrets, so, good luck! Badges will be even more fun this time around!

Everyone really stepped up with the NPCs and I am very thankful for the sprite teams help! The OST is also coming along so well thanks to everyone. I've also appreciated the people who have taken the time to answer questions about programming and such that I have!

Still, the biggest point of stress is that I'm doing all the art, and I don't know how quickly I can do these cutscenes. One of them is very important to look clean and beautiful, and I have to do my best to stay very on style, which isn't as easy in cutscenes as it is with portraits. Along with that, real world portraits take longer than, say, STRANGER, who is monochrome. DREAMER was pretty time consuming, but I'm not as solid on real world portrait style yet. I'll figure it out, hopefully...

I'm also concerned once again about the trailer, and making art ahead of time for it for future events. I think it'll be okay, though? I usually pull through! And if need be, I can simplify the trailer a little.

CONCLUSION:

Currently, (along with completing the remaining assets) the goal is for me to complete all the writing/programming to start playtesting before March 1st, which means the PRELUDE will be completed and playable before March. This will NOT include the final art, such as cutscenes, and trailer art that aren't required for progression. So, while playtesting is happening, I will hopefully step back and really get all that art done so the mid-March release is possible!

There's still so much to do, but so much has been done, and I'm very proud of how things are going-to the point I even find the DEMO very lacking compared to the full PRELUDE! Please look forward to the coming release, and the next DEVLOG!

[nethhiri]

Knight Tutor

Knight!Zoro x Princess!Reader

I saw that post going around, the one that's like "princess reader that knows nothing of sex and a knight that's all too eager to teach her" or whatever and I can't get the damned thing out of my head. Happy Valentine's!

Warnings: Sex, masturbation

"Oi! I've been lookin for ya."

You jumped at the sound of your personal guard's voice, turning to face him.

"Stop going off on your own." He squinted with suspicion at you. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," you said too quickly.

Zoro firmly moved you from your spot, looking through the crack in the door that you had been peering into. He spun around, took you by the arm, and swiftly escorted you out of the barn you were in.

"Are you mad? Do you want people to think you're a little pervert?"

You looked at your feet. It was true, you had been watching one of the stable boys and one of the maids have relations, but it wasn't lecherous. You had gone to the barn to be away from the bustling castle. You didn't particularly like being fawned over or waited on every second of the day. You had no time to yourself. So when you heard strange wet, slapping sounds, you took it upon yourself to investigate. Being a princess, it wasn't proper for you to have any knowledge of sex, and certainly not proper for you to be involved in it. And of course, since it was taboo, that made you want to know more about it. What was this thing that was so secret and why were you not allowed to participate?

You shook your arm free from his grip. "I am not a little pervert. I was curious."

"Well, you better stop being so curious, princess, or you're going to ruin your reputation." Zoro patted your head. "You know your father is working very hard to find you a good match."

"Fuck a good m-."

Zoro covered your mouth, cutting you off. "Stop with that language. It's not fitting for a princess."

"You're the one who taught me how to talk like that," you continued when he removed his hand.

"If you were training to be a knight, that would be good and well, but you're not, so behave." Zoro sighed," I signed up to be a guard not a goddamn babysitter."

"No one is making you mind me. You do that of your own accord."

"I only want what's best for you."

"Why?"

Zoro didn't answer you, simply escorted you back to the castle with a tint of pink to his ears.

Later that evening, you sat with your back to the large, extravagant double doors of your chamber, as you had every night since you started your late night chats with Zoro. It became a habit after a few nights of insomnia on your part. You would talk until it was time for him to switch shifts to sleep.

"You there?"

"Always am," Zoro's low voice answered.

The hallway echoed so he had to speak quietly. Sometimes you could barely hear him.

"Sorry about earlier," You said. "I don't mean to be trouble for you."

"We don't need to talk about it." Zoro continued, "And you're never trouble. Truth is, I would get bored if I didn't have you."

Silence took hold after that for a long while. You heard Zoro's voice again.

"Why do you want to know so badly about... sex?"

"I know men like it, and I know I'm supposed to marry a man, so why is it that I can't know about it. Shouldn't I? To please whomever I marry?"

"You would think that." Zoro contemplated for a moment. "If I tell you about it, will you promise not to go peeping anymore?"

"You'll tell me?"

"Who better to hear it from?"

"I suppose... but how do you know?"

"How do I know? About sex?" Zoro laughed. "Do you think I'm a virgin?"

"I thought all men in service to the crown had to be celibate."

"Maybe the men of the church." He laughed again. "The knights are... well, most are the exact opposite of virgins."

"What about you?"

"I've... lain with a few."

"Hm."

"I'm not a man-whore if that's what you're thinking."

"I'm not judging. So get on with it. Tell me."

Zoro explained, in the most polite way he could, how sex worked. He answered all your questions, even the more uncomfortable ones.

"So then what is masturbation?"

Zoro let out a long sigh. "You are going to be the death of me. You know that?"

"May as well impart your wisdom before then, don't you think?"

It was the last question he answered before he had to turn in for the night.

The following day, when you were in your bath, you started thinking of the conversation. Maybe you could try it. It was private enough here. You slid your hand between your thighs, exploring the parts of yourself you hadn't thought to explore before. You found yourself squirming under your own fingertips when you brushed certain spots. Before you knew it, you were panting and trying to stifle your cries of pleasure. You could feel your abdomen grow tight, like something was building.

Suddenly, the door burst open and you screamed. "Princess?! Are you al- OH. SORRY. Sorry sorry sorry." Zoro snapped the door shut as quickly as he had opened it.

You did not come out of your chambers the rest of the day. For the first time, you considered not having your nightly chat with your guard. What were either of you going to say? But it was tradition, so you sat in your spot. Both of you knew the other was on the other side of the door but neither wanted to say anything.

"I'm sorry," Zoro broke the silence first. "I thought you were crying not... you know." He cleared his throat. "So... did you figure it out?"

"I think so. Didn't get to the end I don't think."

"You should try again. I could help... er... not physically I mean." Zoro went on. "Try thinking about something or someone that gives you that fluttering feeling in your stomach."

Did he mean...now? It sort of sounded like it, and you wanted to listen well to him after the trouble you caused. You closed your eyes and try to conjure someone. The only person you had ever thought about kissing was him, and when you thought of it, it did indeed give you a fluttering feeling.

"Then really build up to it. Don't go right to the source. Trail your fingers over your skin, imagine that it's that person you're thinking of."

You did as he said, ghosting your finger tips over your stomach, the tops of your breasts, your inner thighs, your throat. You pushed up your nightie. You imagined it was him.

"Touch yourself over your clothes. Build up anticipation."

Your fingers trailed up your thigh, moving over your clothed center. You could feel it become damp. Pressing your fingers more firmly into your apex, you started to rub. Your breath quickened and your nipples hardened.

"Slide your hand beneath the fabric, tease yourself, then press your fingers inside."

Your hand slipped below the waistband of your panties, you allowed your fingers to play with your bare clit until your pussy clenched around nothing. Then you gave it something to squeeze when you put your middle finger inside its warm, wet walls.

"Move slowly at first. Feel the drag in and out. Then you can change your pace or add another finger. You can use two hands if you want, to stimulate yourself."

You slid your ring finger next to the first, feeling a small sting. You brought your other hand to circle fingers around your clit, turning the slight pain pleasurable after a few seconds.

"Don't forget the rest of your body. You can tilt your hips. You can touch other parts of your body. You can switch hands."

You did what he suggested, grabbing your breasts and rutting your hips into your fingers. You could feel that same build up that you had earlier. You imagined what it would feel like if it was his thick, rough hands on you. You imagined him watching you with desire in his own eyes. You imagined what it would be like to lay with him. The build up continued. Zoro was saying something but you couldn't hear him over your pleasure. With a cry that startled you, your walls clenched your fingers and this flood of tingling heat wracked your body.

"Y/N? Y/N what were you doing? Were you just...?"

You were still a bit dazed from this new high. "What do you mean? I was doing what you were telling me to do. And it w-worked."

"Y/N! I was- I was merely giving you suggestions not instructions." Zoro made an aggravated groan. "Fuck, Princess, you're going to get me in so much trouble."

"I won't tell anyone. No one will know."

"Go to sleep. I should never have indulged you."

The following day, Zoro didn't look you in the eye. The truth was he was tormented all night with the sounds of your masturbation echoing in his head. It filled him with shame to do it, but his cock ached thinking of you, and he had to relieve the pain. Once wasn't enough either. Zoro came several times imaging that he was the one making you cry out like that. Technically, he was. The thought of you doing as he said, touching yourself, was more than he could bear. He feared that if he looked at you, nothing would be able to stop him from pressing his lips onto yours. He would love nothing more than to be your servant in every way, but he knew better. That would never be possible for a knight.

Before you turned in for the night, you confronted him.

"Zoro, why won't you look at me?"

"I can't."

"Is it because... you think less of me now?"

"No! Of course not."

"Then why? Are you ashamed of me?"

"No! Listen... Y/N..."

"Please look at me."

"I won't be able to help myself if I look."

"I don't understand."

"Princess, please. I am begging you to leave it alone. It will be better for both of us."

"Zoro... I love you."

That was enough to make his eyes shift to you, to see if you meant it. One glance at your strawberry colored cheeks, framed by your soft hair, and your half-parted lips, plump with the blood rushing to them, had him weak. He was strong-willed in everything, except when it came to you. The truth was, the last time he'd lain with anyone was years ago. He stopped when he realized they weren't you. Over the many nights he spent talking to you, he found himself falling in love. How many times had he heard your bubbling laugh, muffled behind the door, echo in his dreams?

Zoro didn't need to wrestle with the temptation of kissing you because you made the decision for him. You grabbed his face and pulled it to your own. Your kiss was clumsy, inexperienced. You floundered, yet, as he always did, Zoro stepped in to save you. Zoro held your chin with shaky hands, pressing his lips to yours. They were every bit as soft as he imagined.

"I love you, too." He murmured against your lips. "Always have."

When he came to his senses, he shoved you inside your room and shut the door quickly behind you. For a moment, he was too caught up in the enchantment that was you to worry about someone seeing you together. Zoro stripped his armor off, and you helped him, until he was down to his underclothes. You weren't yet in your nightie. Zoro unlaced your corset and unfastened your skirts faster than you expected, like he had done it before, which you decided not to ponder on. His scarred hands touched your skin like it would tear if he pressed too hard. Zoro hesitated to take off the last layer of your clothing.

"Are you sure, Princess?" More softly, "Y/N?"

You answered by removing his shirt, though he caught your wrist when you went for his pants. Zoro kissed your hand, then traveled up your arm, peppering kisses along the way until he reached your neck. He moved your hair away, desperately wanting to suck at the skin, but painfully aware that if he left a mark, there would be repercussions. Instead he kept it to light kisses, backing you up until the back of your knees touched the bed. He lowered you onto it, but didn't get on himself.

Slowly, he knelt at the foot of your bed, lifting the hem of your slip to reveal skin that only your own eyes had ever seen. It was so supple and silky, a far cry from his own marred and work-hewn skin. Here, on your thighs, he could give in to his wanton desires. Zoro sucked at the skin, leaving red blossoms in a trail to your own petals.

You hadn't been nervous until he had your skirt pushed all the way up to your hips. This wasn't at all like what you had seen in the stables. Every move he made was deliberate, so you could stop him if you wanted. But you didn't. When he put his mouth on your sex, the feeling was so foreign you couldn't focus on how good it felt. That wasn't even the part that you thought was supposed to go there.

Zoro seemed to have noticed your anxiety. "Relax, Princess." He reached one of his hands out to hold yours. "Let me show you." With his other hand, he rubbed your side in a soothing way. "Lay back. I'll take care of you. Like always."

You did as he said, closing your eyes and letting the good feelings take over. It felt even better when someone else was doing it to you. At some point, you had put your hand on Zoro's head, pushing him into you. Your back arched off the bed and he grabbed your thigh to keep you from squirming away. That tightening feeling in your center came back. Just as you were about to reach your peak, he pulled away.

"Damn. You have to be quiet or you'll wake the whole castle."

"Sorry," you panted. When had you become out of breath?

Zoro took this opportunity to climb over you on the bed, kissing you again, this time tasting of you. You pushed yourself back to lay on the pillows and Zoro pushed the rest of your slip over your head. You were laid bare before him and your nipples hardened to the exposure of the cold air. He fixated on them, and in the same way, you fixated on the bulge in his pants. Zoro noticed your gaze, unfastening his bottoms so he was equally as nude. Taking the size of his member into consideration, and how it hurt to have just two fingers inside, you swallowed.

"It's- it's going to fit?"

Zoro laughed. "Yes, it will fit."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes, it will, but only for a little bit." Zoro kissed you more. "Don't worry. We're going to get you ready first. And we can stop if it hurts too much."

You nodded.

Zoro started with a finger, then another. You felt that tightening feeling with every movement of his hand. With his free hand, he lightly covered your mouth. It was hard to control your sounds when he was making you feeling this good.

"Shh. Be good, my princess. Or I'll have to stop."

You nodded again.

Zoro lifted your own hand and pressed it where his had been. He needed his hands. One to pleasure you and one to pleasure himself. His cock was hard and it throbbed with the thought of sinking into your folds. Zoro added a third finger, making you squeeze your thighs together. It burned and stretched. The pain was almost immediately replaced by pleasure. Again, as your core tightened, close to your release, Zoro pulled his hand away.

"Sorry," he said. "I'll make you cum. But I want to feel you cum around my cock when I make you cum for the first time."

"Technically, it would be the second."

Zoro grinned. "You should know smart-mouthed brats are my favorite... since you are one." He looked at you with anticipation. "Are you ready?"

You nodded, parting your legs for him. "Yes."

Zoro slotted himself between your legs, lining his cock up with the entrance of your cunt. You winced as he pressed into your folds. He watched your face, looking for discomfort so he could adjust accordingly. As he pushed deeper, you had the sensation of being full. It felt right that it was him filling you. It took a few more minutes before he was fully inside. That alone, without any movement, had your core tighter than it had ever been. You felt your cunt pulse around him.

Zoro kissed you long and deep before he began to move. It was to let you adjust to him. It was also to prevent him from finishing too soon. He hadn't had the pleasure of hot, wet cunt in ages and his hand was far less satisfying. He wanted to cum as soon as you started letting those sweet, shy moans out when he was face-first in your pussy. Zoro started moving, gradually hitting a pace that made you cover your own mouth out of fear that you would make too much noise. Your thighs clenched around him as he rutted deeply into you. He bent down to take your nipple into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. Your back arched and you couldn't stay still underneath him. The sensations building were too much to handle.

You removed your hands to grasp at the sheets beneath. Zoro covered your mouth with his to contain your cries. His own soft moans melded with yours and you were both lost in each other, forgetting about the world around you. If all you had was him, you would be fine with that, and the reverse was true as well. You gripped his hair, pressing your kisses harder into him, feeling the coil wound tight about to snap. Then, an intense wave of pleasure flooded every inch of your body. If not for you kissing, that cry would have certainly woken the castle.

Your cunt spasmed around him, squeezing him, trying to milk him. Zoro nearly forgot to pull out. So badly he wanted his cum to be deep inside you, filling your cunt for the first time. He wanted to watch it leak from between your legs. He wanted it to drip into your panties and make them damp so every time you felt that cool wetness, you thought of fucking him. Zoro came hard, barely making it out of your cunt before ropes of hot cum shot onto your stomach. And if some didn't make it out in time, then so be it. Watching you round with his baby would make him happy, even if you were wed to another.

Zoro rolled off you and sighed deeply. "Fuck, Princess. You really are going to get me in trouble."

"I'll visit you at the gallows."

Zoro scoffed, then smiled. "Smartass."

Zoro helped you clean up and put your nightie on. He put his own clothes on and kissed you goodnight, reluctant to go. He would give anything to lay next to you and hold you close, but it could never be. And this probably couldn't happen again either, though he was grateful for the memory.

Except it did happen again. Many more times. Many more positions. All for educational purposes, of course. Pillow talk consisted of plans to start a life somewhere else, hypothetically, of course. But as feelings grew and became deeply tangled, it became less hypothetical, until it was real. Which was why you were waiting patiently in the dead of night, in the stables, with a horse packed and ready to go.

"Oi, you here?" The voice of your knight whispered.

"Always am," you answered.

[utilitycaster]

while reading sone c3 meta i realized c3 defenders are as incurious about the world as bells hells. not to say read/watch the lore but they could do some research. the biggest thing rightniw is the calamity is a family scabble on exandria but i never see them acknowledging why the gods are fighting. or that the gods always chose each other which is so wrong. calamity is because the gods dont chose each other, they chose mortals. the entire fight is to save mortals and at the end they saved 1/3 of mortals vs the total wipeout that could have happened. im reminded that in a world with living gods bells hells didnt even know their names or what they were like. i can see why this party resonates with the incurios.

So on the one hand I would say that the Prime vs. Betrayer fight is complicated, because the motivations that lead to it are them torn between what they want and their refusal leave or kill each other. The Schism happens because the Betrayers want to leave, but won't leave without the Primes, and the Primes don't want to leave and want to help mortals against the titans. The Calamity happens at least in part because the Betrayers want to kill the mortals, which in turn is at least in part motivated by the fact that they see the mortals as coming between them and the Primes. The Primes meanwhile do want to prevent the Betrayers from killing the mortals, and as we've seen, make an effort to spare noncombatant mortals (an effort which in Divergence largely succeeds, and Downfall fails), but are unwilling to kill the Betrayers and instead seal them both times.

However, the larger point, both that Bells Hells are exceptionally ignorant of religious knowledge and history in Exandria and make little effort to rectify this or even acknowledge that they don't know much, and that many of their loudest fans are incurious as well, is true. The thing that actually strikes me is that, given that of the Predathos options that did not involve either a simple defeat of those trying to unleash it or a simple unleashing and destruction of the gods, both involved the Luxon, there was a profound not just lack of curiosity, but dismissiveness of Ashton learning about the beacon earlier in the campaign by their alleged fans. Whether or not you liked it, the potion of possibility and beacon in their head, more so than the shard, was the culmination of their arc and absolutely plot crucial - and it was not uncommon earlier in the campaign for people to be like "who CARES, fuck Essek, let's go to the Hishari." When, in the end, the shard served more as an interesting mechanical bonus, an opportunity for some of the best roleplay of the game that was then mostly abandoned, and an excuse to go to the Shattered Teeth; the role of the titans was ultimately only something to bring up in fruitless arguments and justify dickish behavior. Even more so than the ignorance of Exandrian lore that I saw with some frequency, that stands out to me: even within the campaign they purported to love, they didn't care about exploring something that might gently brush up against Campaign 2. It's a real cutting off one's nose to spite one's face, and it made them look stupid, and Bells Hells felt similar: they did not want to find out information that might show them to be wrong, or show people whom they disliked to be right.

This incuriosity is still alive and well:

This is probably a vague of this post by me - but that post, I should note, came from me checking something in the transcript:

The fans of Campaign 3 don't even care enough about the campaign and party they are expending so much energy to defend, to engage with the questions the characters thereof are thinking about. They're willing to throw Dorian under the bus in a failed attempt to win an argument. Dorian cares about this, actually, is the thing, and he's mostly brushed off, and even if Bells Hells had said "oh damn you're right", my point is not "why doesn't Bells Hells care" so much as "framing this as the merciful option is again a very self-centered perspective, rather like how donating your impulse purchase fast fashion clothing still often puts it in a landfill, but there's a middleman that lets you pretend you're doing the more eco-conscious option."

And yes, it is similar to how Bells Hells, as the party of Campaign 3, didn't care enough about the people and world they claimed to speak for to learn about it. Recall how many NPCs told Ashton that the titans were dead? I think a fair interpretation is that party didn't want to talk to people because they might have told them something that challenged their limited worldview and required they change, grow, and empathize with others.

There's a line from I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings: "[My mother] said I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy," with the implication that there is a difference between a lack of knowledge that comes from lack of opportunity, vs. lack of knowledge that comes from not caring. And that's the thing. If a fan doesn't know all the lore, or even gets something wrong in good faith? That's fine! There's a lot, and if people don't know every detail of the history of the Calamity that's not a failure on their part, particularly if they acknowledge that they might be missing some information and are still learning. But if someone looks at the story, and looks at the questions within it - in some cases, questions directly stated by the characters within it - and says "who cares?" that's incuriosity. It's not a lack of knowledge; it's a disinterest in gaining it, and a lot of fans of C3 are not just incurious but openly proud of it.

[worldsokayestdragon]

So one thing to know is that gender and pronouns don't always line up one to one like that. There are gay men who use she/her while still being men and butch lesbians who use he/him while still being women. And in the same way, some nonbinary people may choose to use traditionally "male" or "female" pronouns instead of they/them, it/its or neopronouns while still being nonbinary. Pronouns are just an aspect of presentation, a way to play around with your identity and how you interact with the world. They don't have to mean any more about who you are than you want them to.

Also worth noting that "nonbinary" is a pretty big umbrella term. It doesn't always mean "I have no gender" or "I'm perfectly in between being a man and a woman" or "I'm something else entirely that doesn't align with either of the binary options at all" (although it can mean any of those things) it could also mean "I'm a woman sometimes but not always" or "I'm closer to being a woman than anything else, but not exactly." Or like a ton of other options.

A nonbinary person with she/her pronouns might be using them to express gender nonconformity, or she might feel a connection to womanhood and femininity while still not being a woman, or she might not feel that she has any particular gender and therefore feel fine keeping the words she's always used for herself because it doesn't make a difference to her.

Hopefully that makes sense! Basically just there are as many reasons a nonbinary person might use a particular set of pronouns as there are nonbinary people. Gender and presentation can be really specific to different individuals, and you don't necessarily have to understand why someone uses the pronouns they do as long as you still treat them with respect (which I think you do! It's good to ask questions and try to learn more when you don't get something!)

"The nonbinary afab who goes by she/her, dresses femininely, and uses a push-up bra when I—" when you what? What's wrong with her?

Is she not nonbinary enough for you? Is the way she experiences her queerness and how she presents not perfect enough for you? Nonbinary people don't owe you androgyny, right? So why is she the exception? Why does she have to hate herself to appeal to your standards? Why is she any less trans—any less worthy of respect—cause it's "not visible"? Queer solidarity my ass. Don't spout this bullshit on Pride, man.

[contentloadingandstuff]

What is a Husband's Role? - Liyue Girls x Male!Reader

A/N: Exams might be over for me, but now, of course, I got a notice that I have to submit myself to a military assessment, compulsory for all men in their 19th year of life. Wonderful. Anyway, enjoy! CW: None.

Question: Who is a husband to you? What is his role?

Beidou: Well, it's quite simple. Y/N is a tough guy, one that's not afraid of taking the world on his shoulders if need be. He handles things in my absence, keeping the Crux’s land-based businesses afloat. While I don't take him out to sea that much, I'd rather have him well and good just in case, he's more than adequate at running the fleet. Me? Heh, he always has my back. Whenever I drink, he stays sober and makes sure I'm taken care of and back home safely and he keeps my bunk warm at night. He's one hell of a man in the sheets too- Why are you blushing, eh? Not the kind of answer you expected? A gal has her needs, I'll have you know. 

Ganyu: My husband is the light of my life. Y/N treats me like a precious flower, tending to my needs and admiring me like the most beautiful thing in this world. When he holds me, he does so with utmost care and attention. His affection makes me feel safe and loved. Thanks to him, I learned to balance work and life again. But even when I'm on the clock, he visits me everyday for my midday nap. All of his support has been crucial for my self-esteem and my efficiency at work. Without him, I don't know where I would be today. Hm? T-too scientific…? I'm s-sorry, I've just been thinking about it a lot…

Hu Tao: Ah, yes! My partner in crime, my muse, and the man ensuring the continuation of the Hu bloodline! Aiya, whatever would my world be without him? It would be as bleak as the space between life and death, with me - a sad, wailing soul, eager to find the comforting warmth of another… I'm lucky enough to have it already. His role in this marriage is not just being my lover, but being my best friend too! He's always open to my shenanigans and eagerly listens to all of my poetic scribbles, praising me and giving constructive criticism in equal measure. Y/N is not deterred by my work, and never ever turns a cold shoulder towards me. He's there when I want to mess around, when I need help or when I just want to lay in his arms and twirl his hair. Mm, I can already picture our lovely heirs! I hope they'll have his eyes~. 

Keqing: I would like to confess something, if that is alright with you. Before I became a wife and a mother, I didn't truly understand what I was fighting for. I have been taught to work towards the preservation of an abstract idea of Liyue, a homogeneous mass of people and the land along with it. I fought for it, yes, but now I know that I didn't truly comprehend what Liyue is. When I first woke up alongside my husband and when I first held my daughter in my arms, I finally understood. I understood that I'm fighting for the people, not as some vague collective, but as individuals. I'm working and fighting for husbands such as Y/N, wives such as myself, and children like my own. I would give my life for my loved ones a hundred times over, and I can work twice as hard, knowing that I do so for the future of my family and every other family in Liyue. My husband opened my eyes, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

 

Lan Yan: Hey - that's no way to think about your beloved! Love is not inherently about being useful to each other, it's more about feelings and companionship. For example, I can't say that taking Y/N with me when picking rattan is making the process easier or faster; I could easily do it myself. But I invite him just to have him near. Hearing his voice comforts me, and to be honest, I've been by his side so long that I just feel… off without him. What if it stormed, or what if night caught me by surprise? He would be worried sick, I'm sure… Or what if I met a ghoul or a jiangshi while out? I m-mean, I have a Vision and everything, but is it wrong to feel safer around my big, strong husband?

Ningguang: I find it fairly obvious - he is to support me, to comfort me and to keep me company. If you would like a more personal take on the matter, I'd say that Y/N, for me, is a precious antique - surely the most valuable of all. His role is to be a feast for my eyes and my heart, nothing less, nothing more. I wouldn't want to drag him into my business, as that would be foolishly risking his life. His role is to satisfy my emotional and physical desires - after all, true fulfillment in these areas cannot be bought by Mora. 

Shenhe: Well, I learned that a husband's role is… Hm? You want me to answer in my own words? Oh, I see. Then… I used to think that a husband is meant to give his wife children. It is what I thought for most of my life, until I met Y/N. Y/N’s presence, his words and touch, cause a comforting warmth to spread through my chest. I learned that this is what love truly means. It's a sense of safety, but it is exciting all the same. I want him closer, but my usual dark visions do not appear in my mind. I do not feel the pressure of my soul straining against the red ropes. He calms me, he makes me feel safe. Now I understand the importance of having a soul to share one's life with. I understand now what the word ‘husband’ means. And I am… happy with Y/N by my side. 

Xinyan: I love Y/N because he honestly loves me for who I am. No matter if I rock and roll or feel in the mood for something softer, he'll jam out to it with me. And he's one hell of a guy, let me tell you! He's not afraid to go all in with me, no matter what. I thought about going on tour? He's there with me. I wanna save some Mora to upgrade my guitar? You guessed it, he pitches in as much as he can! I feel like stealing him and partying the night away? He never says no. That's the best man a gal can ask for!

Xianyun: Hmph. Are you implying One's choice of husband is poor? One will have you know that Y/N is of the finest sort - a body that would make the gods of old jealous and a mind that rivals One's own. It is the latter that’s of utmost importance - One doesn't see a husband as a mere nod-along, but as a man that is capable of challenging his wife's character and inciting her to grow. As such, don't be concerned by Y/N arguing my points at any point in time. It is what One desires, and loves about him the most. 

Xiangling: Ooh, where do I start! My hubby is the best sous chef in the world - he makes sure that the kitchen is stocked up, clean and well organised, letting me focus on my favourite part - cooking! Whenever I need to get ingredients, he takes my place in the restaurant. Sometimes we go out together to get some new ingredients and experiment a little. He's good at cutting up meat, hunting down that meat and defending me if any of my ingredients decides it wants to snack on me. And, when we camp for the night, his cuddles are just the best! Both my dad and Guoba approve of Y/N, so I suppose my taste in boys isn't that bad after all. 

Yelan: A woman my age, and in my line of work, can't be blamed for giving up and thinking she'll be alone until the end, right? That was the Yelan my husband met a few years back. And yet here I am today, a married woman. I knew I was missing out, but I just couldn't imagine how delightful it feels to have someone propping up my back - not for a mission, or a profession, but for life. My husband is my safety net. His arms are my hideout where I can rest from the stress of my daily work. I never want to lose him, which is why I have him stay low and always keep the eyes of my most trusted agent on him. Nobody is going to sneak up on my man - not while my heart still beats. 

Yun Jin: His use? Ah, I think I can answer that with a single word - adventure. I always dreamt of journeying across the outside world, and love is such a journey. Y/N is my companion on it, holding my hand whenever I feel scared or unsure, standing steadfast by my side. He lets me experience so many feelings and emotions I could only imagine before he took my heart… Hehe, stories of love I sing in opera don’t come close to experiencing a husband’s warmth yourself.  

Yanfei: Well, who else would listen to me ramble on about my passion other than my lovely Y/N? I swear, no matter how many versions or iterations of Liyue’s legal history I read out to him, he never gets sleepy! He even asks questions and actually remembers what each chapter was about, can you believe that?! Hehe, seriously now; he’s a great partner, both in life and in a discussion. Y/N makes some room in his schedule for visiting me at work every day of the week, and always brings some mean snacks with him. Oh - you have to try his crab cakes, they’ll blow your socks off! And who ever said that guys can’t cook, right? 

Thanks for reading!

[ssentimentals]

hi nini!! hope you doing great today 😊 saw your prompt list for your 1.7k followers celebration (HAPPY 1.7K FOLLOWERS NINI!! 🥺💐). could i possibly request svt woozi x oc/reader with prompt no. 8 pls? thank you so much!! been reading your works since last yr and all of it are so amazingggg ><

hi anonie! ahhh thank you so much!! i'm so happy you're enjoying my works :') and of course you can request, thank you for doing so! 💜

prompt: 'who did this to you?'

'baby, i'm home!' you announce, closing the door behind yourself. quickly taking off your hat and scarf, you start unbuttoning your coat, talking loudly: 'god, it's freezing outside! please tell me that you managed to fix our heater, this zero degrees situation is frankly ridicilous. oh and i also got us tacos cause it's friday and we deserve tacos!'

you stumble into the living room with wide smile and bag full of said tacos in your hands, pausing at the sight of an empty room with your boyfriend nowhere in sight. jihoon always makes a point of greeting you from work, has this whole routine of coming over with gentle smile and even gentler hands that instantly pull you close for a hug. the silence in apartment is suspicious and you paddle slowly to the kitchen and then to the bedroom. you call his name again and when instead of a usual 'hey baby' you get 'don't come in!' from him, you start getting nervous. 'what's happening? why i can't come in?'

'uh- nothing, it's all good, you can enter the bedroom just not our bathroom, okay? i'll be out in a second.'

jihoon's voice sounds strained and it lacks usual warmth that he always has reserved for you. without thinking twice you enter the bedroom and make a beeline towards the bathroom, leaning on the door but not opening it, not yet. 'what is going on?' you ask carefully. 'i'm getting anxious here, ji, don't do this to me.'

jihoon knows how bad you are with situations like that, knows that your anxiety skyrockets when you have no idea what is happening. last thing he wants is to make you worried though, so with a sigh he unlocks the door, letting you in. he saw his reflection in the mirror and is aware of how black eye contrasts with his pale skin, but when he catches look of pure shock on your face, he thinks maybe he underestimated his skills of using concealer. 'um,' he starts unsurely. 'sorry, i don't have my own makeup so i took your concealer without asking first.'

that brings you back as you sputter, stepping closer to him with worried eyes. 'wha- you think that's what i care about right now?' you ask indignantly and with careful hands you take a hold of his face. 'baby, what happened? who did this to you?'

jihoon doesn't really want to answer this question. he knows it's very justified but he can't tell you that some guys at work were making stupid jokes about his relationships and one of them took it too far. he normally can't care less of what people think but not when it comes to you; he's not proud of how he handled it, but he doesn't regret sticking up for you against others. looking at your eyes that are slowly starting to fill up with tears, jihoon knows that he'll fight however many guys on this planet because you are his diamond and he won't let anyone speak badly about you. out loud he says only: 'you should see the other guy. this,' he motions to his black eye, 'is nothing compared to how he looks now.'

it's not enough to ease your worries but it does make you laugh and spal his shoulder. 'jihoon!' you shake your head. 'don't even try to cover it up with jokes. oh god, it looks horrible,' you lean closer, inspecting his face. 'oh baby. what happened? are you okay? should we go to the hospital?'

your sweetness washes over him and jihoon smiles, tugging you closer. 'no need, i'm good. just got this black eye and that's it. and we just- misunderstood each other.'

you raise your eyebrow at this. 'you're not type of guy who punches first and asks questions later. what happened, baby?'

jihoon glances at the bag on the floor and smiles. 'did you got us something on the way home?'

you turn, smiling. 'yeah, tacos from our favorite place. wait, don't try to distract me mister, tell me-'

'i am starving,' jihoon interrupts and leans in, pecking your lips. 'you know what can really help me right now? will make me feel better? you on my lap while we're eating our favorite tacos. hm? can we do that, angel?'

jihoon knows that you're tactful enough to know when not to push, but he can see battle happening in your eyes. at last you decide to let it go for now, letting him pull you to the kitchen. jihoon easily wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you on his lap, ignoring your squeak of protest. 'thank you for the tacos, baby,' he mutters, kissing your shoulder. 'you're the best.'

'mhm,' you turn to him, wiggling a little until you get comfortable. 'we will talk anyways, ji. just not now.'

jihoon nods. not now is enough. he was so distraught when he came back home that having you like this is truly the only thing that can make him feel better. he hugs you tighter and leans with his forehead on your back. 'tell me about your day, baby. please,' he asks quietly.

your hand finds his and you giving it a squeeze before starting to recount everything what happened with you today. jihoon feels tension leave his body at the sound of your voice and your body close to him. when you absentmindedly start caressing his hand, he smiles. yeah, he's very okay with getting into fights on your behalf. you deserve it.

a/n: hopefully you liked it, let me know! <3 - nini

request your own here

[cloversnstrawberries]

oc intro post ! ! young!serial killer grandpa & time traveler reader

masterlist | requests open !

warnings; Mentions of violence, murder, serial killings, Everett's superiority/god complex, misanthropy (hatred of the human race), manipulation, possessive behavior, mental instability, and there might be more that i forgot :( if i missed a major one, please let me know and i'll add it !!!

additional notes; i read "garden of the dead flowers" a while back (in which i totally did the daily pass thing. yeah. totally!), and i thought it had a lot of potential for a platonic yan,, i didn't like the ending much for other reasons, but i'm fixing it here. with my oc. as god intended, of course. of course, if you're familiar with the webcomic at all, this isn't really that similar; except for the very core basis ^^ this is the option that won the second poll :D

! ! introduction blurb & moodboard below the cut ! !

Everett has met a lot of people before, that's just how it is, being the son of a wealthy businessman and a socialite. He's met a lot of strange people as well, eccentric people that makes Everett need a double-take.

But none quite so strange as you, who simply... showed up in the back garden one day. You were disoriented, wearing odd clothes as you patted around your pockets for... something. A handkerchief, maybe?

Either way, you'd be an easy kill. He'd never seen you around before, perhaps a runaway then. Nobody would miss you, in that case. And If they did, then they'd have a difficult time tracing you all the way to Everett's backyard.

But something made that train of thought stop before it even fully departed. Something about you made him hesitate, and subsequently approach and offer you help. To pull you up, dazed as you were, and help you into the sitting room.

You continued to be quite out of it, and when he returned, tea in hand-- you took it without question. You hadn't said a word, not to him or otherwise. All you did was look around, face pinched like you trying to figure something out.

By the end of it, Everett isn't quite sure what made him take such a liking to you. When you opened up, you tripped over your words-- you sounded funny, regardless of that. Saying words and phrases he's never heard, but he didn't pay much mind to that.

Regardless of your little verbal stumbles, you ended up telling him that you 'don't know how you got here', which he assumed you meant the town in general, or maybe just his backyard specifically.

The first conversation he genuinely held with you, you would always give these nonsensical answers that provided no more knowledge than before. When he asked "Where are you from?" You'd respond with "Not here.", or how you got here-- you'd always pause, and try to think it over before finally settling on "...I don't know."

Amnestic, maybe? That's what he could make of it, anyways. Other than your dazed behavior, you showed no real signs of a concussion. He set you up in a guest room-- and he doesn't know what makes him do it. Even as you wake up the next morning, no longer so confused--

Usually, he wouldn't really like people like you. Those who treat him so casually, those who treat everybody like that; like they were everybody's pal. It irked Everett to no end before,

So why is it different when you do it? With your strange words, strange habits, and even stranger way of dress-- what's got him so interested in you?

What sets you apart of his usual fare--? He could go and argue that he helped you recover so he could add you to his roster of victims, because he's not one for kicking someone when their down...

But he couldn't even fool himself with that lie. Really, he doesn't know why or how you managed to worm your way into his good graces so quickly-- enough where he let you stay in his home for the time being.

He could be harboring a runaway, either from a family or maybe even if the law. That could put him in risk, if cops come looking for you-- find his home, found evidence of what he does in and around it.

Again, it's just something about you... It makes it impossible to even think of driving a knife straight through your heart. What would be easy for him with everyone else, was like fighting an uphill battle when it came to you.

Either way, he's not letting you go now. Not after week of getting to know you-- after getting you new clothes to help fit in, getting his parents to make the school take you as a student. Just so you didn't have to sit and rot in that big house all day, of course.

He won't let you outside the grounds. Maybe because he doesn't want his new friend taken, the only person that's been entirely immune to his constant need to hurt others-- either by yourself, or anyone who's looking for you.

But he doesn't tell you that. He says he just wants to make sure you're healthy and not about to keel over from an untreated brain injury and whatnot.

Everett has grown quite fond of you, even if you're a little strange.

Maybe it's because you're so strange, that you're exempt from his usually unforgiving drive to prey on others, and rip them limb from limb like they were bugs under a microscope.

[alwaysless]

Fellow William analyst, greetings! I hope you are well, I hope you don't mind a question/ask.

I am curious about your thoughts on the lack of reaction we see of Will at the "one life" reveal at the dinner scene, if you haven't already shared your thoughts before! We know Annabel wasn't shocked, but what about Will?

It took me longer to answer than I thought, sorry

I'm not sure I can say anything new, but yes, it's pretty damn suspicious. The composition of the frame stylized as broken glass, makes it easy to draw Will with everyone, and a frame later we see him with other panicking students, so RnF didn't show his reaction quite intentionally.

But I also want to talk about his behavior further. In the next episode, Will doesn't behave the way you expect him to. Given his weak-willed personality, it seems like he should be scared and overwhelmed by the prospect of a survival game (like Morella for example) but he's confused at best, and moreover, confused by everyone else's reactions. He even tries to justify the deans, basically gaslighting the rest of the students.

Will is not afraid, but he does not understand why others are. I have only two possible explanations: either he knew, or he just doesn't care, just like Annabel. Or maybe both.

Maybe he has played these games before. Maybe he doesn't plan to fight for a second life (at least not in Nevermore, again just like Annabel). Maybe because he is somehow connected with the academic staff with all his doll aesthetic, there is no second life for him in general, he just works there. There are many options, but here I would prefer to focus on his parallels with Annabel - two characters whose reactions we don't see in this frame.

This is actually not the only scene where they are absent, contrary to common sense. In episode 6 we see the merit board for the first time. Most of the names on it are blurred, but some can be distinguished. Among them are Lenore, Annabel, Duke, Morella, Ada, Prospero and Will. All of them, except Annabel and Will, are present in the room at this moment.

I wouldn't have paid much attention to this scene if it weren't for Prospero. Why is he there? He doesn't speak a single line, and we haven't been introduced to him as a character yet. His presence here is useless. So maybe the idea really was for all the characters whose names were visible on the board to be in the scene(or at least have already been introduced, like Annabel).

So what about Will? My main problem with shapeshifter characters is that they can be anyone, anywhere, at any point in the story. Especially if they can also create their own copies. He could have already been introduced and we just didn't notice.

Now let's talk about the games these kids love to play so much. We know that Annabel is a talented chess player, and Montresor constantly uses card game slang. But did you know that it was William Wilson from Poe's original story who was a cardsharper? I just think it's such an interesting detail. Nevermore`s Will has never been seen like this, but considering how much of a board game aesthetic this webtoon has, I think it's important to note this.

And finally, there is a similarity that also makes them very different: both Annabel and Will have ribbons as an essential symbol, but it has a completely opposite meaning for each of them. For Annabel, the ribbons are a symbol of madness, fear, and perhaps her golden cage. It appears in her hallucinations after Lenore's fake death, as well as when Ada shows her her main fear.

Will, on the other hand? The ribbons are his weapon. He uses them to tangle other people. Curious, although his spectre is obviously a marionette, he doesn't have a control bar for strings, he controls the strings himself (not always successful but still).

No matter how weak-willed Will is, he's the only one in Annabel's group who isn't influenced by her. She blackmails Montresor, Prospero respects her as a leader and friend, Ada admires and envies her. But she doesn't have anything on Will. In the chess allegory, he will obviously be a pawn (and I`ll write a whole post about it, I swear), but not Annabel's pawn. I have an idea that sooner or later, Montresor will think of using Will to find dirt on Annabel in revenge. After all, given their spectre abilities, it's easier for them to find out lenabel's secret.

So, let's summarize what we found. Absolutely nothing. This post turned out to be longer than I had planned, because I was a little carried away, but I hope you found something interesting for yourself in this stream of thoughts.

Here, take funny little Will everyone. He deserves to be noticed.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Tommy's introduced as a bigot in season 2 and often shown taking initiative in starting the bullying of Hen and Chim vs. waiting for Gerrard to do something and just not standing up for them. There's even a scene in "Chimney Begins" where no one else is even in the room to overhear and Tommy still chooses to be nasty to Chimney instead of a bare minimum of civil. Even after the "resolution" of the episode and his 'apology' (not for racism, but for making Chim prove himself at work), he's still shown to have spent years not learning his lesson, becuase he goes back to the same behaviors with Hen and Chimnney even mentions that "the Asian guy" still isn't invited out by the team for drinks or BBQ.

Then when it's "addressed" in season 7, we see remarkably little growth from Tommy, where he's blaming "the environment" and Gerrard for his choices and actions as a grown man. And in season 8, we get a healthy dose of misogyny in ageism with how he speaks of Abby, while casually acknowledging he also screwed up her life.

It's not just that he was afraid to stand up against bigotry in the face of an evil boss. He could've taken Eli's route, and just be silent. But no, Tommy is someone who chose to actively participate in workplace bigotry and bullying, and then almost 20 years removed, shrugs it off as everyone else's fault.

let’s not forget his very recent comments about Abby that were reeking of misogyny. Talking about her dating some “himbo” younger than her (as if he wasn’t actively doing the same thing) and admitting he was lying the whole relationship (not just about his sexuality).

Word for word that man said, “Heard she went a little nuts after that” as if her entire world wasn’t flipped upside down with her engagement ending and having to take care of her sick mother. The only tiny bit of understanding he showed was him saying she deserved better, which duh. 

One time when I was five I put a bead in my nose and it went all the way up to the bridge and I had to push down on it from the top until I could get it out because I was scared it would go to my brain and kill me.

That has nothing to do with any of what you said, but I just thought I'd put that out there because you're doing some dumb shit and I wanted you to know we've all done dumb shit. This is a safe space.

Anyway, I don't think you've ever been a closeted queer person who's said and done some at times questionable or outright fucked up things to keep yourself safe from scrutiny.* I grew up seeing people like me getting murdered and heard people explain why it would've been avoidable if they hadn't been so obvious or if they'd just chosen to be normal. I also grew up with a lot of bullies who were only bullying me because it put them in the protected group. It kept them from having people look at whether or not they were actually a good target for bullying. I'm actually friends with a couple of those people now. Not close, but we're cordial and we'll talk when we bump into each other at the store. That has more to do with us being in our thirties and living our own lives. There's a couple who had no excuse whatsoever other than being actual homophobes, I don't talk to them.

I dated in high school, I was engaged but I was 18 so I don't know how much that counts, but then I came out when I was in my early twenties. I knew I wasn't actually interested the entire time I was with those people, either. At first I just thought the relationship wasn't right for me, then I started to realize what was actually going on. I still dated, I still asked someone to marry me because I thought I could be happy with them. I did love and care about them, just not the way you should if you're going to marry them. I also didn't tell anyone I was non-binary until two months ago, even though I figured it out about fifteen years ago. A trans person hiding their identity to protect themselves from danger or rejection is nothing new, but it's kind of a shitty feeling to know you've been lying to every ex you've ever had about something like that. I don't like that feeling, and it's going to take a while for me to shake that. I don't know that I ever will.

So all of that is to say that a character like Tommy is actually kind of important to those of us who also weren't perfect at being queer, especially those of us who grew up during a specific time. I was actually pleasantly surprised that a basic network show would have someone like that, but times they are a-changing. So onto your last point:

Abby Clark is played by a now 57 year old Connie Britton (drop the skincare routine, girl), Lou Ferrigno Jr is 40, and Oliver Stark is 33. When you're an actual grown person, a seven or eight year age difference is kind of nothing. One of you might be a little more ready for things like kids or marriage, but that's not a guarantee. But hearing that your ex started dating a 26 year old when she's about 50, whether or not he knows that she actually pulled Buck's info in a very questionable way (I love that no one going after Tommy ever seems to care about the massive ethical breach from Abby), is kind of...wild. And he presumably heard about this from a mutual friend of some kind, who likely gave him this information colored by their own perception of the situation. This is where critical thinking skills become important. Based on context clues, I can safely guess that Tommy asked someone how Abby was doing or ran into someone who knows her, too, and they said "Hey, did you hear about Abby's new guy?" Otherwise he would've said "I saw that she was dating...." or "She told me she was dating..." So this could've been secondhand bitchiness, it could've been that her behavior was being framed as extremely not okay by someone they knew. We'll never know, the show doesn't have the strongest writing all the time. I'm not touching the thing about her mother, because a very close family member of mine has Alzheimer's, a good friend just lost a parent to it, and I do not want to examine the behavior of a person who's dealing with that or that of the people in their lives.

Could he have said "But I get it, she would've been going through a lot because of her mom and then our breakup"? Yeah. Would it have been nice if they wrote any scenes between Tommy, Hen, and Chimney that bridged the gap between when they weren't close and when they actually celebrated him and his accomplishments when he left the 118 to show why he would be someone Chimney would call on in two major emergencies? Yeah. I think I would've liked to see them talk things out onscreen and to show any apologies. Mostly because it would keep people from dropping an essay in my ask box when I feel like my sinuses and temples are filled with hot needles. I don't actually need to see it other than liking the three of them together, because I figured that they would've shown some hesitation before Chimney would reach out to him or he would've pulled Buck aside to warn him to be careful with Tommy. Or Hen and Karen wouldn't have been so thrilled when they realized what had gone down before Buck and Tommy came into the hospital room. There's a lot of stuff they don't show on this show, but they'd at least make a point to do or not do certain things if a character hated or disliked a character.

*I believe a certain dispatcher even did a whole big speech about this on the very show you apparently watch. I didn't like the Glee part, because I don't like Glee after season one. But the rest of it was good.

[eclipixels]

Payback

Sylus x reader

Content: You don't like Sylus allowing other girls to flirt with him, so you take matters into your own hands to get back at him

A/N: pt.1 pt.2

[2,911 words]

      You sat with Sylus at the bar, your head resting against his shoulder, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air around you. The two of you had arrived earlier than most, and now, as you watched the slow trickle of people filtering in, you couldn’t help but think that maybe Sylus had been right, you should have waited a little longer before coming.

      With a soft sigh, you sat up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m gonna go use the bathroom, okay?" you murmured, your fingers lightly squeezing his arm before you slipped away toward the restroom.

      The momentary break was meant to be nothing, just a quick trip before returning to his side. But when you emerged, your heart nearly stopped.

      A woman stood dangerously close to him, tilting her head in that familiar, flirtatious way as she batted her lashes. The dim lighting of the bar only made the moment more intimate, more insufferable. Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, she leaned in, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something you weren’t meant to hear, something that sent a searing pang of jealousy straight through you.

      Did you really believe him when he told you that you were the only woman he wanted? That he never entertained temptation? That he never strayed, even when countless women threw themselves at him?

      You wanted to believe him. You truly did. But watching this unfold, watching him stand there and allow her to linger, to bask in his presence without a single sign of dismissal—it gnawed at you. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t flirting back or even paying her much attention. The fact that he didn’t push her away, that he allowed these moments to exist at all, was what truly got under your skin.

      And who could blame her for being drawn to him? Sylus looked effortlessly breathtaking in his tailored black Versace suit, the sleek fabric clinging to him in all the right ways. He exuded confidence, mystery, an untouchable charm that made heads turn the moment he stepped into a room. If you were in her position, wouldn’t you want a man like him to look at you the way you wished he only looked at you?

      But why? Why couldn’t he make it clear that he was unavailable, that there was no room for anyone else in his orbit? The questions burned in your mind, threatening to spill over into words you weren’t sure you were ready to say aloud.

      Because no matter how much you trusted him, doubt had a way of creeping in like a shadow in the night. And right now, standing there, watching her linger in his space… that shadow felt all-consuming.

      "You okay?" a voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to find yourself looking at some guy. Tall, effortlessly good-looking, with a broody, mysterious air that made him stand out.

      "I'm completely awesome. Just having the time of my life," you replied with a smirk, the sarcasm practically dripping from your words. "I mean, you agree, right? I am awesome. You know what? Don't even answer that."

      He gave you a small smile, the kind that was just barely there but still managed to be annoyingly charming. "As much as I’ve heard about you, you're more than just awesome."

      Your drunken mind barely registered the comment or who exactly had been talking about you. But if he had heard things, well, hopefully, they were good things. He had this whole mysterious, darkly intriguing vibe, and if you weren’t so hopelessly in love with Sylus, maybe—just maybe—something could have happened.

      "Do you wanna dance?" you asked impulsively, tilting your head at him.

      His eyes widened slightly, as if the question had caught him off guard. "I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, his voice polite yet firm.

      Seriously, what was it with men not wanting to dance with you today? You were an amazing dancer.

      "And why exactly wouldn't it be appropriate?" you teased, grabbing his arm before he could protest and pulling him toward the dance floor. Not that you were trying to make Sylus jealous or anything. But, you know, if it happened organically, you wouldn’t be opposed.

      "Just relax. It's just a dance," you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him a little closer. You giggled as he let out a small breath, clearly debating whether to just go with it or keep resisting.

      Then, as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, the music shifted into something slow and romantic, one of those songs you'd never heard before but could already tell was meant for lovers lost in each other’s arms.

      Perfect. Just perfect.

      You didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see if that woman was still talking to Sylus.

      "You know," your dance partner said after a moment, "I learned how to waltz once. It’s been a few years, though."

      You chuckled, tilting your head at him. "Oh yeah? Think you still got it?"

      He smirked slightly. "Guess we’re about to find out."

      For a fleeting second, you felt Sylus’s gaze burning into you from across the room. You could almost hear the unspoken words in his stare. But you ignored it. To hell with him.

      The two of you danced so flawlessly, so effortlessly, that the energy in the room shifted. People took notice. Whispers spread, eyes turned. But you didn’t care. For the first time tonight, you were simply having fun.

      Then, with a fluid motion, he twirled you around, sending a rush of exhilaration through your veins before pulling you back into his arms. And finally, the grand finish—a dip, deep and dramatic. The moment lingered as you locked eyes with him, your breath slightly ragged from the movement.

      A slow smile spread across your face as you straightened up. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” you admitted, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

      "I'm glad I could make that happen," he replied, his own smile warm and genuine.

      Before you could say anything else, the sound of clapping caught your attention. You turned to see Wanda and Tara grinning at you, their faces full of approval and amusement.

      “You were amazing!” Tara cheered, her excitement practically radiating off her.

      Your dance partner chuckled, then took a small step back. “You should go join your friends,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Besides, I wouldn’t want any trouble for you.”

      And just like that, he turned to leave.

      A frown crept onto your face. His words confused you. What kind of trouble? He was fun to be around, easy to talk to. You had a feeling that if nothing else, the two of you could have been good friends. But he was gone before you could ask.

      The thrill of dancing, the lightness of the moment—it all started to fade as the weight of reality crashed back down. For a little while, the music, the movement, the laughter had made you forget. Forget about Sylus. Forget about the ache in your chest.

      But now? Now, it all came rushing back.

      You forced a smile as you said goodnight to Tara and your other hunter friends. They wanted you to stay, to shake off the sadness, but you were drained. Completely and utterly exhausted.

      All you wanted was to be alone. To cry in peace.

      And you didn’t care how you got home.

      Stepping outside, the cool night air did little to soothe the fire burning inside you. But as if the universe hadn’t tormented you enough tonight, there he was—Sylus, leaning against his motorcycle, waiting.

      The last person you wanted to see right now.

      At least he wasn’t with her.

      "What are you doing here?" you asked, voice sharper than intended.

      At the sound of your voice, he turned his head, his expression unreadable—until his eyes met yours. Then, just like that, his gaze hardened.

      "The real question is, what the hell were you doing in there? With that guy?" His tone was sharp, laced with something that almost sounded like jealousy.

      God. The sheer audacity.

      You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "It's called dancing, Sylus. You know, that thing people do when they're having fun?" You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. "And honestly? The hypocrisy is commendable. Really."

      His brows furrowed. "The hypocrisy? What’s gotten into you, Y/N?"

      Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the adrenaline crashing. Maybe it was the way your heart still ached from watching him with her. But something inside you cracked.

      "You know what? You’re right. I knew what I was getting into with you," you admitted, voice shaking, "but I can’t do it anymore."

      His expression faltered for the first time, but you didn’t let him speak.

      "Is this even a relationship to you, Sylus? Or am I just someone you’re fooling around with until you get bored?" The words came out harsher than you expected, but you didn’t care.

      For a moment, silence hung between you like a storm waiting to break.

      Then, something in his face changed. The sharpness faded, replaced with something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

      Hurt?

      "Is that what you really think of me?" he asked, voice quieter now, almost disbelieving. "Of us?"

      You swallowed hard, but he didn’t stop.

      "Is that what you think I’m doing?" He took a step forward, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be seen. "Just stringing you along until I get bored?"

      The way he said it made your chest tighten, but you wouldn’t let him turn this around on you.

      You stepped back, refusing to let your resolve waver.

      "That’s how you made me feel today, Sylus," you snapped, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you had held in. "You made me feel used. You made me feel small—like I was nothing compared to her. Like she mattered to you, and I didn’t."

      Your lips quivered as you tried to hold back the lump forming in your throat, but the words wouldn’t stop now.

      "You can’t let the most gorgeous woman in the room flirt with you, throw it in my face, and then expect me to just stand there and not care," you choked out, barely recognizing your own voice—raw, broken, angry.

      Sylus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t trying to hurt you. You knew that. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. And maybe he hadn’t been ready for this confrontation, but neither were you—you hadn’t asked for this heartbreak.

      "She means nothing to me, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now. "And she wasn’t the most gorgeous woman in the room."

      You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah? That’s funny, considering how easily you let her hang all over you."

      His jaw tightened. "Don’t use that tone with me, Y/N."

      And that—that—set you off completely.

      "Fuck off, Sylus," you spat, stepping back, fire burning behind your eyes. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act jealous then get mad when I get the same way."

      As soon as the words left your mouth, Sylus closed the distance between you in an instant, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was rough, desperate, and possessive. He had heard enough. He couldn’t lose you like this. He wouldn’t let it happen.

      You wanted to fight back, wanted to push him away, wanted to scream at him for how much he had hurt you tonight—but you didn’t. Instead, you gave in. You kissed him back with just as much fire, all the jealousy, anger, and pain pouring into the way your lips moved against his. You wanted to rip his hair out, but at the same time, you wanted to fuck him senseless.

      His hands gripped your waist as he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him. He walked forward until your back hit the wall, trapping you between the cool surface and the warmth of his body. A sharp gasp left your lips as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him. His mouth was on you in an instant, lips and teeth marking you, sucking deep enough to leave bruises. His marks.

      He wasn’t the only jealous one tonight.

      Watching you dance, hearing you laugh so freely with that guy—it had made something primal snap inside him. He wanted to be the one spinning you around, holding you in his arms, making you smile like that. He wanted to be the man who made you happy.

      His hands slid under your dress, gripping your ass roughly as he pressed his hips forward, grinding against you. You gasped at the friction, a moan slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, rolling your hips against his, desperate for something to ease the ache between your legs. You were frustrated, upset, and so fucking turned on all at once.

      Then, before you could stop it, a single tear slipped down your cheek.

      Sylus stilled.

      He heard the soft, broken sob escape your lips, and his chest tightened. His hands, which had been gripping you so possessively just moments ago, suddenly softened their hold. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as his breathing evened out.

      His thumb brushed the tear from your cheek before he pressed a tender kiss there, his lips lingering. And then, slowly, he set you back down onto your feet.

      The loss of contact made you shiver, but you weren’t ready for this moment to end—not like this.

      “I'm so absolutely sorry for how I made you feel tonight.”

      “I just wish you would push those women away, why don’t you do that?” Your lips quivered. His heart broke, how could he make you feel this way? He was mad at himself.

      “I didn’t think it mattered. I thought you already knew I loved you.” He admits, feeling stupid for not realizing sooner how much it hurt you.

      “Still, it hurts seeing them flirt with you and you do nothing.”

      “I am sincerely sorry my love, I promise, I won’t let it happen anymore.” He closes the distance between you two. He wraps his arms around you tightly "you're my weakness y/n, I never wanted to have one but then you came along.”

      “You’re mine, okay?” You say firmly.

      "I am yours. So beautiful you are, the prettiest. I love the dress princess" he kisses your forehead

      "Thank you love, I got it in your color" you smile.

      "I know but It would look better on the floor” He grins wickedly. Oh my god, you really are stuck with him now.

      “Don’t think I’m forgiving you that easily, though,” you said, your voice firm, your expression stern.

      Sylus paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, but he masked it quickly. “What do I have to do?”

      You took a step closer to him, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Beg.”

      His brows furrowed, and he blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What? You can’t be serious.”

      You leaned in, your gaze locking with his, a challenge in your eyes. “You heard me. On your knees. Beg me to forgive you.”

      His lips parted, but he didn’t immediately comply. “Y/n–”

      Before he could say anything else, you shoved him gently but firmly, guiding him to the ground. The sudden action had his breath hitching, but he quickly found his footing, settling on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, his gaze filled with something between defiance and desperation.

      His thighs flexed as he kneaded his jaw, eyes narrowing in thought. Then, he finally spoke, his voice low and sincere. “Please forgive me, darling. I am so fucking sorry.”

      You raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with the apology.

      Sylus let out a soft groan, his hands resting on his thighs, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “I’m so, so sorry.” His voice dropped an octave, heavy with regret.

      And still, something in you wanted more.

      The sincerity in his eyes pulled at something deep inside you, but you weren’t ready to let him off that easy. "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear how much I mean to you. I want to know that you won't let this happen again."

      His breath hitched as his hands moved to the floor for support, his body leaning slightly toward you as if instinctively reaching for you, aching for you. “I won’t let it happen again, I swear to you. I won’t make the same mistake. Please, Y/n, forgive me. I can’t lose you. You mean everything to me.”

      You could see the desperation in his eyes now, the plea for you to believe him.

      "That’s better," you said, nodding slowly. "But words are just that. Show me."

      He lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked back up at you, his posture shifting as if he was preparing to give you all of him. And he did just that, all night long. You drained the life out of him, not stopping until you were satisfied.

[kkoga]

Pretty eyes, jeung yoonchae x IVE!fem!reader

A/N : this is my own little valentine special, so sorry it's a bit late. Had to work my ass off for the collab, and js so yk i also have a dani angst fic in the works so def watch out for that one

Warning ! Mentions of homophobia, foul words, definitely NOT proofread

Disclaimer ! Everything written is pure fiction. No person is an accurate representation of themselves.

Now playing ! Pretty eyes by zehdi

Wc — i don't know ok. I pulled this out my ass. Its not even valentines anymore. It was supposed to be a val special. Watch me jump off the cliff.

Divider creds : @steviebbboi

Yoonchae hesitantly holds hands with Y/n. Even though they were holding hands below the table, it was still incredibly risky. Considering the fact that both girls were idols, and from different groups no less, would completely destroy their career.

Yoonchae hated this. The korean hated the hiding, the concealing. She wants to show off her girlfriend to the world, to shout and tell them the one and only person she loved was none other than Y/n L/n.

But the Korean knew she had no choice. Gay people were gravely frowned upon in Korea. The girl doesn't even know whether or not her own parents would support her.

Y/n was even more popular than Yoonchae. The girl was a member of the famous girlgroup IVE, a group every junior admired.

The two had initially met at an award show. Y/n, ever so confident, approached the Korean first. Yoonchae was incredibly shy at first, thinking, "There is no way Y/n of IVE is talking to me right now."

But after a couple weeks, the two girls had grown close. Too close, for Yoonchae's liking. After a few months, Yoonchae noticed her heartbeat was too fast around the girl, her words almost always getting jumbled up whenever within the vicinity of her bestfriend. It was pathetic, really. Y/n never let's her live it down.

Yoonchae had a feeling she knew why she felt that way, but growing up in a traditional house, the girl tried convincing herself it wasn't true. She had nothing against gay people of course, but the internalised homophobia the Korean had to grow up with was starting to hit her hard.

Yoonchae ran to an old friend for help, who had calmly asked her two questions.

"Alright, let me ask you two questions. Would the world end if you came out as gay?" Yoonchae was weirded out by the question.

"What? That doesn't even make sense.." Her friend sighed.

"I didn't mean it literally, Yoons. I meant would it feel like your world was ending?" Yoonchae almost immediately answered.

"But my— my parents wouldn't... and the public, good god, my fans. I can't be—" Her friend then interrupted her.

"Now imagine Y/n with someone else. Someone who most definitely isn't you. Would you be able to bear that? Does that seem like it's worse than your world 'ending'?" Yoonchae paused, her expression filled with every negative emotion possible. Anger, sadness, and confusion were all neatly displayed on her face.

".... yes." Her friend smiled, content with Yoonchae's answer.

"There's your answer."

After the conversation, Yoonchae had taken a day off. To think about herself, and her feelings. It was definitely a big thing to process, the fact that she had apparently never liked men. The Korean had always questioned where the "spark" her friends always mentioned was. But now that she had thought about it, the girl now knew why.

It took a while, but eventually, Yoonchae had finally accepted herself for who she was. However, the Korean still come out to her members. She wasn't ready yet.

But now, after successfully confessing to Y/n and having been together for the past two years, the Korean finally considered herself ready.

And today, she was going to ask Y/n if she would like to meet her members. Not as a friend, but as her partner, as the love of her life.

As Yoonchae got in Y/n's newly acquired car, one she got right after earning her license, the Korean took it as a good time to ask.

"Y/n? Can i ask you something?" The girl was nervous. What if she said no?

"Yes Yoons? What's up?"

"I.. i want to introduce you. To my members, I mean." Y/n was shocked, but excited. Extremely excited.

"Really?"

"Really. I'm ready, Y/n. I want them to know I have a beautiful wonderful girlfriend who takes care of me every single day." Y/n, so enamoured by Yoonchae's braveness, leans over for an excited and cheeky kiss.

"Love you soo much Yoon!"

Yoonchae warmly smiles, "Love you too hun."

It was finally the day. Today, Y/n was going to introduce herself to Yoonchae's members as her girlfriend. Well, not immediately, but eventually.

Yoonchae had carefully planned out the afternoon. First, she would get her members to warm up to Y/n. Then during dinner, finally tell them something— or rather someone she's been keeping a secret for far too long.

Y/n nervously rings the doorbell, adjusting her collar just before Manon, one of Yoonchae's bandmates, answer the door.

"Hey girl so nice to meet you, Yoonchae's friend right?" Y/n nods, and returns Manon's smile.

"Come in girl, she's like in her room right now." Y/n hesitantly walks into the house and is met with Megan and Daniela on the couch, Sophia and Lara apparently in the kitchen, and Yoonchae exiting her room.

"Y/n! Hi! Sorry, I had to grab my switch. Let's play now." Yoonchae shot Y/n a cheeky smile, one she undoubtedly fell for.

"Oh you are going DOWN! Also hi, nice to meet you guys." Megan and Daniela sweetly greet the girl, finding the difference of her demeanour with them and Yoonchae silly.

It has been four hours since you and Yoonchae have started playing on her switch, the game projected on the TV. An hour in, Megan and Lara had joined you and Yoonchae's games of Mario Cart.

Yoonchae couldn't help the warm smile slowly creep up her face. It was nice. Seeing you interact with her members was just so— natural.

Sophia and Lara were peacefully sat on the couch, Manon taking pictures in the corner of the livingroom. It was as if Y/n was already a part of them, a part of their little family. And Yoonchae loved it.

By now, it was already dark outside. Dinnertime was approaching, and Yoonchae had to prepare herself. They liked her so far, nothing bad is gonna happen.

As they all ate on the dinner table, Manon started a conversation.

"I still can't believe you're friends with Y/n from IVE Yoonchae, How did you guys even meet?" The couple looked at each other, a cheeky smile on both their faces.

"Oh, we met because of a common friend. That's all." Manon nodded in response, and Lara looked at Yoonchae and Y/n a little suspiciously.

As they all finished off their food, Yoonchae had very suddenly asked them all to sit on the couch, which confused her members. But they obeyed nonetheless, curious as to what their maknae had to say.

They all lined up on the couch in order, Manon, Daniela, Lara, Megan, and Sophia. While Yoonchae and Y/n stood in front of the five.

"I just wanted to say..." Yoonchae said as she held your hand, doing so in a romantic manner. Lara's eyes shot up, as if saying "I FUCKING KNEW IT!"

"I'm dating Y/n. I like girls. The whole point of today was to get you all to warm up to her." Yoonchae wasn't sure how her members would react, but she was pretty sure at least Megan and Manon were gay, so it wouldn't be that bad.

Barrages of questions were shot from Daniela and Manon's mouth, and Lara asking for her 10 dollars from Megan could be heard too. But all Sophia did was send the couple a warm smile. The leader kindly asked them all to shut the fuck up, and after the rest did as she said, she calmly and proudly told the couple.

"I'm proud. Thank you both for trusting us, and congrats on your relationship. You don't have to give us all the information about your relationship now— you can do that as the night progresses. Let's just enjoy the night, yeah? You should sleep over Y/n." Yoonchae teared up, and Y/n did too, thankful the Katz were accepting.

Yoonchae leaned in to Y/n's ear, and whispered, "Love you." Y/n giggled like a little kid, and gave her a little cheek kiss, which resulted in reactions from the rest of Katseye.

[rotagnus]

love/self-growth in march !! 🫐

my usual pick a pile is here, darlings. pick just as usual--if it doesn't speak to you, don't force yourself to choose. there are messages for you that lie elsewhere.

this reading deals with both platonic, familial, and romantic love. don't expect to get a certain aspect of love or the result you want.

-1. ooouu you're a bright person. probably very creative with a tendency to get stuck within your own head. as for love in march, i think that this month will focus on a connection that already exists. maybe you've been working on self-love, and that's what's growing. for some of you, you've adopted a pet recently and that connection is going to grow stronger. if you're crushing on someone right now, there probably won't be any change except for your feelings growing stronger. my advice to you is to decenter this because if you focus completely on that, it'll be really terrible. you are so full of beauty and flame and wonder, and you should harness this energy and create beauty, not look for it elsewhere. time will bring you everything. you deserve a love which knows no bounds, and whether this person is it or not, you must first find that love within. i know a lot of you don't want to hear this, but it's the truth. i would highly suggest trying to talk to this person, though--to find out what they really are. ask deep questions if you're already on a talking basis with them, if not--try to make a friend.

-2. now baby tell me why you've given up on love. it seems to be a sour topic for you that you shy away from. you've done a lot of self-growth in the past ~6 months, and you're farther along on your self-discovery journey than either of these two piles are. for you, you try not to love. a lot of the times, you feel like you are still unseen. this month will bring change to that. i'm not sure what kind of change, i can't exactly tell, but you'll feel a bit more seen than you did before. this may be to personal circumstances, or maybe another person does something--even a simple action--and you realize that, damn, maybe i really am seen. this month will deal with opening up a little bit more to let the love flow in. lol, for pile 1, it's not really time for love, but for you it is; but you've closed all doors to any possible encounters with love. 🤣 listen, i highly suggest doing some exercises for your vulnerability. it's a great step forward, and i think that it could benefit you. if a person comes into your life, let them. but don't be scared to set boundaries and not settle for less.

-3. you have rose-colored glasses, darling. now, don't take this the wrong way. it can be a very great thing, being idealistic--you at your heart are a ruthless optimist and honestly, a little bit naive. you've been dealing with both ups and downs, this past couple of months. there's been some trouble in your family, and in your love life. you're always the one making ends meet in order to benefit mass sums of people. you're awfully responsible and confident, but you're still...you. you still need rest. i feel like most of you are women--babies, you do NOT need to be the men in the relationship, if you're a masculine woman, disregard this. but for a lot of you, you're stuck in this disbalanced masculine energy. i don't really like talking about the divine feminine and divine masculine and whatnot, but for you i feel like it's important. girl, put yourself FIRST. i promise you there's a man/woman/person out there who's gonna bring you flowers every damn day of the week, you just gotta put yourself first. start to say NO. you might meet someone new in march. someone unexpected. i know you've been taught that change is bad, but in this case, just wait a little bit. baby steps, darling. baby steps.