#and small children hold hands all the time

[martiniblues]

JUNO , spencer reid

pairing boyfriend!spencer x fem!reader

synopsis while babysitting henry for jj, spencer’s seeming disinterest with children starts to shift. this makes your mind wonder into unfamiliar territory you and spencer hadn’t spoken of yet: kids.

genre talks of pregnancy and children (duh), very suggestive towards the end but no smut, this is very self indulgent since i can’t get this song or spencer off my mind so here you go lol.

wc 2k?? (i got a little carried away)

“sorry for this being so last minute!" jj scrambled, passing henry over to you along with his diaper bag. the blonde ran a hand through her short hair, adjusting from where the two-year-old played with it upon their arrival. 

“it’s all good, seriously. you know how much i love babysitting this cute thing.” you tickled henry’s side, making him squirm. 

jj’s eyes averted to the figure behind you, pursing her lips. “you sure he’s okay with this?” you turned your head, noticing spencer trying to look at the two of you without being noticed. 

it’s not that spencer didn’t like kids; it’s just hard to know how to talk to them when you were a child genius. 

you turned back to jj, attempting to ease her worry. “he’ll come around to it.” you shrugged, knowing that spencer would either sit and observe or fully engage. no in between.

after bidding your goodbyes, you walked over to spencer, taking a seat beside him on the couch. “so what should we do, little man?” you perched henry in your lap, resting your feet on the coffee table so he could sit against your perched thighs. 

spencer looked at you as if he were the “little man” in question. henry just babbled, throwing his arms around as you cooed. “what do we do with him?” spencer asked, leaning closer into your shoulder to inspect the baby in your lap. 

you laughed at his seriousness, turning to look at your boyfriend. “have you never been around a baby in your life or something?” you teased, lifting henry so he was closer to you both.

“did you know that babies are born with about seventy reflexes? that’s why when you place a baby on a surface to stand, they automatically start doing a stepping motion.” he spoke, watching henry kick his legs as you stood him on your lap. you looked over at him quizzically. “for someone who’s so awkward around babies, you sure do know a lot about them.” 

spencer flushed slightly, “i just haven’t had the chance to be around any until now.” he nudges your shoulder before crossing his arms. 

“well, here’s your chance.” you held henry out to spencer, which made him squirm and mumble yet again. “hold him while i go bring his bag in here.” 

he hesitated, looking between you and the baby as if this were a test. yet, despite the nervousness, he reached out, mimicking your position earlier. when you were content with how henry laid on spencer’s legs, you walked out of the room.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposely take your time collecting his things, wanting spencer to have some alone time with henry. finally satisfied with your departure, you peaked your head into the room, nearly melting at the sight. 

the once stiff and nervous spencer you had left with henry was now replaced with a content, smiling one. his voice went up a few pitches as he responded to henry’s nonsense. “oh wow, really?” his lips were pulled into a smile as he played with him, letting henry’s small hand encase his slender fingers. 

you couldn’t help but let your head wander; how could you not? sure you thought about a future with spencer. a future where you were married and maybe with kids, but you had never brought it up being too nervous to scare spencer off.

but now watching him light up with henry in his lap, you wanted nothing more than for your daydreams to become reality. 

“someone wants you back in here, i think.” you snapped out of your daze, focusing on the two sets of eyes staring at you. both holding the same smiles and wide eyes. 

god, you swore you felt your ovaries jump.

“i see that you two are getting along now.” you placed henry’s diaper bag on the table, sitting yourself on the ground before laying out his blanket and a few toys. spencer joined you, placing henry on his stomach, then laid beside you, mirroring the baby’s position. 

“who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” you laughed, in awe of how much spencer had adjusted to the small being in just a matter of minutes.

he looked up at you as he shook a little plushie in front of henry’s face. “sorry to disappoint, but this is still your boyfriend,” spencer quipped before you pushed his head jokingly, messing up his hair in the process. 

the sound of high-pitched squeals took both of your attentions away from one another. there henry lay, clapping his hands in favor of you and spencer’s playful fighting. 

“yeah, you like when i show him who’s boss, huh?” you caressed the soft skin of henry’s cheek, making him giggle. spencer sighed, “come on, man, i thought we were really becoming friends” he exasperated, laying his head in his hands dramatically.

this only brought more squeals from the baby, making your cheeks almost grow sore from how hard you were smiling. 

“awe spence, it’s okay.” you egged on your act by petting his hair back into place. this caused your boyfriend to lift his head; a big pout on his lips made yours perk up. 

with your attention being taken away from henry by spencer’s rare expression, you hadn’t noticed the stuffed animal caught between the baby’s hands. before you could do anything, the small bear was chucked into spencer’s face, causing an uproar of noises from henry.

“i’m starting to question this whole babysitting thing.” spencer winced, looking at you as you laughed along with henry. 

 

despite the teasing from earlier, spencer continued to be enamored with henry. him even insisting he help feed and change him when time came.

the whole ordeal feeling so domestic, apart of you wished jj could have spent a couple more days for her and will in favor of you seeing spencer like this for longer.

“thank you, again for taking care of him.” jj propped her hip against the counter as she fumbled for her phone out of her purse.

“of course, it really was no problem.” you turned at the sound of spencer’s soft voice, thanking henry for “helping” him clean.

“honestly, i think someone enjoyed this a bit more than we thought.” you gestured at spencer as he settled henry on his hip, the baby grasping onto his button-up shirt. 

your whole body ran hot at sight. spencer looked really good as a pretend dad. 

“no kidding, the team is going to flip when i show them the pictures you took of them.” she glanced at her phone, noting the off-guard photos you stole of spencer and henry. 

one was of him feeding him as he walked around the living room, another of him explaining some of the books organized on his shelves in a very formal fashion despite henry’s lack of knowledge, and finally one of them eye-to-eye playing on the floor with various toys. 

your heart swelled looking back at them, the questions you had been so careful not to ask begging to be verbalized. 

before you could sink any further, spencer came over, handing jj henry and his bag almost reluctantly. noticing the time, jj was quick to leave in order to keep the baby’s sleeping schedule on track but thanked you guys repeatedly before finally closing the door. 

clicking the lock shut, you mentally prepared yourself for the words about to come out of your mouth. 

“you had more fun than you bargained for, didn’t you?” you met spencer on the couch, him reaching out to pull your legs over his, making your heart leap. 

“i did, actually.” spencer began smoothing his hands up and down your calf before continuing. “honestly when you mentioned henry coming over, i was a little- i don’t know scared? i just didn’t want to disappoint him or you.” he bit his lip like he was stopping himself from letting the whole truth out. 

“oh spence, you were perfect. honestly, i’m very proud of you.” you reached out, caressing the side of his face, causing him to look at you. 

he noticed your wondering eyes, waiting for you to continue. “actually i um…” you shifted pulling your legs under yourself so you could sit up. 

breathing in deeply, you continued, “today kind of got me thinking about us and our future.” spencer was looking at you with such admiration that you had fixed your gaze on your hands.

“i know we haven’t really brought it up before, but seeing you and henry today had me-“ 

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were pressed against yours, resulting in a shocked gasp from you. he kissed you, mumbling words each time his lips parted to take yours in again. 

“i want that, i really do.” he breathed, finally separating from you for just a moment. 

“you want what, spence?” you were in shock, to be honest, knowing what he meant but wanting to hear him say it word for word. 

without another word, he positioned you in his lap, legs straddling his own. “i want a family with you. i want a sliver of what we had today to become ours one day.” his eyes didn’t break from yours, his pupils blown wide and sparkly.

for the thousandth time that day, you had to bite back a smile. “you mean that?” you questioned, one hand coming to comb through his hair and the other resting on his neck. 

he kissed your cheek, forehead, nose, and finally your lips before he spoke. “every single one. i mean, one of you is cute.” he cupped your cheek as he spoke. “but two though? that’s something.” he finished, smirking at you. 

you couldn’t contain your happiness, crashing his lips to yours again feverishly. even though you knew the both of you were in no place to have a kid now, there was no harm in playing with the fantasy for now. 

even if the real thing wouldn’t come to be for a good few years.

spencer pulled you flush against him, one his hands leaving your hips to trail up your spine and settle onto the back of your neck. a moan slipped past your lips as goosebumps erupted on your skin. 

you pulled on his shirt, hinting at where this was going as if it weren’t obvious to the man beneath you. he looked up at you, kissing you once more before dragging you to your shared bed. 

your blouse and shorts were off before your back hit the sheets, spencer still standing ahead of you unbuttoning his work shirt. 

you sat up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to take over. after each undone button, you kissed his skin, making him gasp as his fingers raked through your hair. 

pulling his shirt all the way off, you made your way to his pants, pulling him closer by his belt loop. you bit your lip, noticing the gears turning in his head.

“you know statistics say missionary or doggy are the best positions to get pregnant in.” spencer let out in shallow breaths as his belt clinked on the floor. 

“oh, yeah and why is that genius?” you leaned back on your elbows while spencer finished removing himself of his pants. he took you in, the tiny pink bow on your underwear made spencer rethink his crude response. 

“deeper penetration,” he said almost too smoothly, making you laugh. it was hard to take statistics seriously when you were both nearly naked. 

before he could settle above you, you shimmied up the bed. ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes, you positioned yourself on your hands. looking over your shoulder, you saw the way spencer’s eyes widened in shock.

it’s not that you and spencer had never had sex; it was just very vanilla. with this new-found desire, though, that switch flipped. 

“have you ever tried this one?”

my first spencer fic omg. lowk crazy because i’ve been obsessed with this man since the ripe age of 12 but here we are. will probably be writing a lot more of him since im rewatching cm at the moment so stay tuned! request box is always open <333

[dissapointu]

Thinking about Arcane with a partner who is terminally ill and has to stay in bed hooked up to a bunch of needles and tubes

Thank you for all your work you are amazing <3

Thank you so much for your kind words!

I swear we are allergic to happiness-

Jinx

Jinx hides her pain behind manic energy, trying to make you smile even when it feels like her heart is shattering. She brings you handmade gadgets, some of which are purely for fun—tiny robots that dance or explode into colorful sparks, filling the room with chaos and laughter. But when the exhaustion hits, she curls up beside your bed, her fingers tracing the tubes and needles with a quiet reverence. In those moments, her vulnerability surfaces, and she whispers about her fears of losing you.

Vi

Vi hates feeling powerless, and seeing you like this is her worst nightmare. She refuses to leave your side, bringing you books and stories of her past to keep your mind off the pain. Her hands are always gentle when adjusting your blanket or holding yours, but her emotions often spill over. When no one else is around, she breaks down, pressing her forehead against your arm, her tears soaking into the fabric as she begs you to hold on just a little longer.

Sevika

Sevika is practical, channeling her pain into action. She spends hours ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible, fixing equipment when it malfunctions and running errands for anything you need. At night, when she thinks you’re asleep, she sits by your bed, nursing a drink and talking to you like everything’s normal—about work, about Zaun, about how much she admires your strength. If you catch her in a rare moment of vulnerability, she’ll brush it off, saying, “You’re the tough one here, not me.”

Silco

Silco is a man of control, and your condition reminds him of his helplessness. He spares no expense in seeking the best care for you, but he’s always haunted by the sight of you so frail. His visits are quiet but full of unspoken devotion—he reads reports aloud, his voice calm and steady, though his eyes flicker to your face more often than the papers. Late at night, when no one else is around, he gently brushes your hair back and murmurs promises he knows he might not be able to keep.

Vander

Vander is a steady presence, his warmth grounding you even in your worst moments. He sits by your bed, holding your hand as he tells you stories from his youth or hums a soothing tune. He often brings the children by to cheer you up, their laughter filling the room. Vander tries to stay strong for you, but his hands tremble when he thinks you’re not looking. His love is unwavering, and he’ll remind you every day how much you mean to him.

Ekko

Ekko struggles with the weight of seeing you like this, but he refuses to let despair take over. He spends his time crafting small inventions to make your life easier or bring a smile to your face. When the silence becomes too much, he talks about his dreams for the future, painting vivid pictures of what could be. He clings to hope, even when it feels fragile, and does everything in his power to make sure you know you’re not alone.

Jayce

Jayce throws himself into researching treatments, convinced he can find a way to help you. When he’s not in the lab, he’s by your side, his hand resting over yours as he explains his latest breakthroughs or reminisces about the moments you’ve shared. He hides his fear behind his optimism, but when you tell him it’s okay to let go of the facade, he breaks down, resting his head on your shoulder and letting his tears fall freely.

Viktor

Viktor is no stranger to pain and illness, and he understands your struggles on a deeply personal level. He spends hours at your bedside, quietly tinkering with gadgets or reading aloud from books he thinks you’ll enjoy. His touch is gentle, his words soft, and his presence unwavering. He hates that he can’t fix this, but he makes sure you never feel alone, offering comfort in the form of quiet companionship and shared understanding.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is your pillar of strength, calm and composed even when her heart is breaking. She works tirelessly to ensure you have the best care, pulling strings and calling in favors to get you what you need. She’s a constant presence, her hand often resting on yours as she talks about the world outside. When she’s overwhelmed, she steps outside for a moment to compose herself, returning with a renewed determination to make the time you have left as meaningful as possible.

Mel Medarda

Mel is a force of grace and composure, but your condition shakes her to her core. She fills your room with beauty—art, flowers, and soft fabrics—to make your space a sanctuary. She sits with you for hours, her voice soothing as she shares stories from her childhood or discusses philosophy and politics. Her mask only slips in the quiet moments, her hand lingering on yours as she murmurs about how much she loves you, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa is not one to show weakness, but your illness makes her feel a vulnerability she hasn’t known in years. She takes charge of your care, ensuring you’re surrounded by the best physicians and resources. Though her visits are often brief, they’re filled with quiet intensity. She sits by your bed, her large hand covering yours as she promises to protect you, her voice steady even as her heart aches.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is practical and nurturing, spending her days by your side to ensure you’re comfortable and cared for. She’s always quick with a joke or a story to lift your spirits, her warmth a balm against the cold reality of your condition. But when the laughter fades and the room grows quiet, she leans her head against your shoulder, her voice soft as she tells you how much you mean to her, her heart aching with every word.

Lest

Lest hates seeing you like this, but she channels her emotions into quiet devotion. She watches over you like a guardian, her sharp eyes scanning every tube and needle to ensure everything is in order. She often sits beside your bed, her tail curling around her legs as she talks about the world outside, filling the silence with her soothing voice. When you catch her staring at you with a mix of love and sorrow, she quickly looks away, her ears twitching, but her hand remains firmly in yours.

[natlovesls2]

Never Really Over

Lando Norris x Sainz! Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: 18+ MDNI, one bed trope/ forced proximity but barely, slight fake dating, alcohol mentioned/ used, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, small amounts of angst, minimal swearing, talks of marriage and children, please let me know if I missed any

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 3.8k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Lando had broken up though decided it was best that no one knew. Max and Kelly's wedding forces you to come together, making it hard to disguise your true feelings. What can possibly go wrong?

.ೃ࿐request: found here

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙��♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

It was difficult being an open book while simultaneously attempting to hide your break up from not only your brother, but anyone who had been invested in seeing the relationship prosper. More often than not you found yourself having to make up answers to questions pertaining to the subject or switch the topic all together. And even if the news of the breakup did somehow come out, you weren’t sure how you’d explain the situation that led to it. The memories of that night were hazy to say the least. 

You could faintly remember the fuzzy feeling of alcohol and the buzz of music around you that night. There was no doubt that you had been out at some party or club, as you often found yourself at one. Though everything beyond that felt like a badly painted watercolor portrait; the colors, or events in this case, bleeding together into a cruel image of that night. 

“What are you saying?” he asked, voice cracking as he searched your face for an answer. The words coming from your mouth slurred but determined. 

“I’m not an idiot, Lando. What else would you be doing when you go out to celebrate your wins for races I didn't attend?”

“You think I’m cheating on you? This is what this whole thing is about?” his voice raised with slight anger. 

“Yeah,” you raised your voice back at him. You wanted to blame the sudden burst of jealousy completely on the alcohol, but you knew that would be a lie, there had always been an insecure pit in your stomach that had only been growing since you began dating. “You’re an attractive, famous athlete. It would be weird if you weren’t.”

“What's the point of being in a relationship if you can’t trust me?”

“The door is wide open, Lando. No one is holding you here by force,” you hadn’t meant those words, but they couldn’t be taken back. 

“Is that what you want? You want to break up?” you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, let alone answer his question. “Fine,” he whispered, running a hand over his face, pacing around the hotel room, “Alright.”

The only memory that seemed to feel concrete and not muddled by all the drinks of the night prior, was the moment you woke up the following day. The sloppily written note on a receipt from some club letting you know that he had left per your request. And even though he didn’t explicitly say things were over, it wasn’t difficult to understand what the note was implying. Beside the fact that you two no longer interacted as a couple, everything else seemed normal, especially to those who didn’t pry beyond surface level. It was for good reason that you two did this; Carlos would have taken your side regardless of the situation, and you didn’t want to be the root cause of a possible falling out. Maybe that's why you didn’t blame Max and Kelly when they told you that you would be sharing a room with Lando for their wedding. 

You had somehow arrived before Lando, taking that time to unpack and mentally prepare to be in such an intimate space with him after such a long time apart. Things were definitely going to be awkward; you were certain you would have to tell everyone the truth about the status of your relationship. It was becoming increasingly clear to you that lying to everyone hadn’t been the best idea. But telling the truth now, when it had been months of lying, was certain to dampen the vibe of the next few days and put a rift between everyone involved. So as Lando walked into the room you couldn't stop yourself from blurting out your disapproval. 

“We can’t possibly tell them the truth– it would ruin everything, and I refuse to ruin Max and Kelly’s wedding week.” 

He stared blankly at you, shutting the door and placing his suitcase beside it, “Jesus, could you give a man a few seconds. I’ve just barely walked through the door.” You ran a nervous hand through your hair, pacing across the expanse of the room. How could he look so calm about this, you envied how well he played things off. No matter how much things truly affected him, he always had to have an obnoxious nonchalant air to him. “You’re making me dizzy,” he let out a slight chuckle that made your eye twitch.

“I’m sorry for being the only one concerned over this, Lando.” 

“More like paranoid. Relax, there's nothing to be concerned about,” he said with a light shrug, throwing himself onto the only bed. It stuck out like a sore thumb, a reminder of how difficult it would be to ignore him over the next couple of days. 

“What are we going to do about that?” you asked, nodding towards the bed a tense expression plastered on your usually calm face. 

“We’re adults, sharing a bed isn’t a big deal, right?”

“Not a big deal at all,” you agreed, letting out a shaky breath attempting to calm your nerves. He nodded, giving you an awkward smile– the only sign of the emotions he was hiding behind his mask. For a moment you were sure he was just as concerned as you were, if not more.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

Rehearsal dinners, a momentous event for any wedding. Sure, the actual wedding ceremony and reception are consequential, but the rehearsal dinner sets the tone for those two. Landos presence alone hand you high strung, now add the high stake of this fake commitment you both had. The clamminess of your hands increased tenfold as you sat beside him, occasionally giving a small smile as Lando conversed with those around you. The conversations around you seemed to fade as you focused on the napkin in front of you. Its stark whiteness against the deep colors of the tableware around it making it stand out. It almost felt like the napkin was taunting you, as if saying, “You’re not fooling anyone, you two stand out as much as I do in this sea of real couples.”

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks you from across the table, face etched into a mix of concern and suspicion. Your silence throughout this whole ordeal becoming a clear indicator that something was wrong. 

“Hm?”

“I asked if you're okay,” he repeated, eyes glancing between you and Lando. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded with a shaky smile. 

Carlos' eyes narrowed at you, clearly not buying your answer, he seemed to want to say more but hesitated. Lando quickly intercepted the conversation moving on to a topic he could easily control. 

“How much do you want to bet that Max will cry tomorrow?” Lando asked, a playful smirk making its way onto his face, “I say he starts crying as soon as he gets ready for the ceremony.” 

“I bet you’ll cry more at your wedding,” Carlos says smiling at you and Lando, it's clear he's fond of the idea of a wedding between his sister and close friend. 

“Yeah, probably, but we have a few more years until we even start worrying about that,” Lando placed a hand behind your chair, his fingers gently grazing the exposed skin of your back. 

“You didn’t deny the idea of a wedding, does that mean you plan to marry my sister?”

“Let's slow down, mate. I'm not going to deny or admit anything,” Lando let out a laugh, tracing soft shapes onto your shoulder. For once his words and actions didn’t feel forced, as if this were second nature to him. It was almost impossible to tell if he was being truthful in his response or if it was all part of the act. You stared at the half empty glass of wine in front of you, hands moving on their own accord to bring the glass to your lips allowing you to nearly down it all in one go. You were going to need a lot more to drink if you were going to sell the act.

Maybe you had underestimated how much you had to drink or perhaps everything was becoming too hard to control. You felt Landos arm wrap around your waist as he guided you back to your shared room, whispering about something you had done though you didn’t catch what he said and you could hardly remember the rest of the dinner. 

“You’re a lightweight,” Lando sighed as he sat you at the edge of the bed, kneeling down to unstrap your heels. His touch against your bare ankle felt nothing short of electric, something so intense and mind numbing. 

“I’ve missed you,” you drunkenly admit, running your foot against his chest. 

His grip on your ankle tightens in an attempt to hinder your movement, “hm,” he hums out as a response, impulsively lifting your leg up to press a small kiss to the inside of your ankle. The familiar pressure of his lips against your skin erupts your skin in goosebumps. 

“We’re more in love than ever before,” you say, giving Lando one of the most sincere smiles he's seen from you in a while, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly as you talked to Kelly, “Right, Lando?”

“Absolutely madly in love,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. He hadn't expected you to move and plant your lips against his in a sloppy drunk kiss, drawing laughs from those around you. 

His lips continue to travel up your calf, his eyes trained on your face to catch any glimpse of change in your expression. He pushes you down against the bed, hovering over you, “You’re drunk,” he lets out a sigh, resting his head in the crook of our neck. 

“And?”

“We shouldn’t do this while you're drunk– I refuse to do this while you're drunk,” Lando whispers, unsure if he's trying to convince you or himself, “I don’t want you to regret this when you're sober, and it's just wrong.”

You grab his face, pulling him away from his hiding spot in your neck. You stare at him for a while before bringing his face closer to your own, gently meeting your lips in a surprisingly fluid kiss. 

Lando quickly pulls away, standing from his spot on top of you, “No, not while you’re… like that,” he rubs a hand on his face, gesturing frustratedly at you. He grabs a pillow and a sheet from the bed, laying on the decently sized couch in the room deciding it would be better to sleep away from you– considering the state you were in. 

The blinding light coming from the window awoke you the following morning, your pulsating headache the only reminder of the night before. Lando was already awake, still laying on the couch typing away on his phone. He seemed to feel your gaze on him, “How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting up to get a better look at you, his voice filled with slight concern.

“I’ve felt better, can’t remember shit,” you admit, placing a hand on your forehead as if it would do anything to calm the pulsing headache. 

“That's probably for the better,” he stares at you longingly, it's clear that he does remember whatever happened at the rehearsal dinner and your shared room, “we should begin getting ready, we can’t be late to Max and Kellys big day.” You wanted to press him for answers, force him to reveal the source of his distant attitude, but decided against it. Things couldn’t get more tense between you, especially not tonight.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

The wedding ceremony had been beautiful, Max had indeed cried almost as soon as Kelly began to make her way towards him. And even now as they sat together at the wedding reception you could catch the hint of a happy tear poke its way out of his eyes. 

You felt Landos hand slip around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. He had remained by your side since the wedding ceremony, refusing to leave you for even a second. His actions felt less forced than they had previously felt. And as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear bits and pieces of the day prior began to escape the floodgates of your mind. 

You let out a small giggle as Lando whispered into your ear, “stop it, you’re not acting like yourself. They’ll catch on,” his breath tickling you. 

“I just love you so much,” you whispered back, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, giggling to yourself like a child. You’d never been big on PDA but in your drunken state you couldn’t seem to keep your hands and lips off of Lando. 

“You too are adorable, as in love as when you first started dating– perhaps even more in love,” Alexandra said from beside Charles, smiling between you and Lando. 

“Our love has definitely grown. We’re going to get married and have kids,” you leaned into Landos touch, your smile widening at Alexandra's words. 

“Okay, you've had way too much to drink– I think it's time to go to bed. We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Lando announced to the table, shaking his head with a nervous laugh. 

“Oh we’re sure you're gonna go to bed,” Daniel teased, causing the table to erupt in laughter.

“Hey, you okay?” Lando asked, concern written all over his face, his eyes dancing across your face. 

“Yeah.”

“You spaced out, didn’t even react to what I said.”

“What did you say?” you asked, finally snapping out of the memory of the night prior. 

He stared at you, his face still overtaken with concern, “I said, we sold the lie pretty good…” he whispered. If you didn’t know better you'd think he was upset, upset that it was all a show. For a moment he frowned, quickly smiling again, “Lets go dance,” he grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor. 

Lando placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him, moving you both to the rhythm of the song. He smiled tenderly at you, and everything began to blur into a confusing mess. You weren’t sure what was real and what was a lie fabricated to convince everyone that you were still madly in love. He played the role of loving boyfriend so well that you were beginning to fall for the charade too, you were starting to believe that he still loved you and had never stopped. 

Your head found its way to his chest, resting there as if it were its official home. The both of you continued to silently sway to the music. The world around you seemed to disappear, almost as if you were the only ones that mattered at that moment. It was confusing how you felt so connected to him yet so far.

 Lando rested his shin atop your head for a moment. He straightened out his back, bringing your dancing to a halt, hand reaching to grasp your chin so that you were staring at him. “Please tell me you’re not faking it,” he whispered, his eyes desperately searching yours, “tell you still love me. That you’ve meant every fleeting touch, every stolen glance, every kiss you’ve given me this weekend… please.”

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or his words that made the room around you spin, forcing you to grasp onto the jacket of his suit to stabilize yourself. The music you were dancing to just a moment ago now a murmured buzz in your ear. You wanted to be truthful, to admit that you had never stopped loving him and possibly never would. The look of desperation on his face urging you to confess your soul to him. “Of course I love you” you finally said aloud for the first time in months, relief instantly flooding his face. 

Lando cupped your cheek, gently caressing it, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Neither of you had been faking anything, that much was clear as his lips found their place on top of your own. It was gentle, not rushed but relaxed, as if you had until the end of times to relish in each other's presence. He pulled away after a while, letting your lips hover– barely touching, breathing in each other's shaky breaths. “Do you think they’d notice if we left?” he asked, looking around the reception.

“No, everyone is focused on Max and Kelly.”

“Good,” he said, slightly out of breath as he led you towards the exit. You silently thanked Max and Kelly for choosing to have their wedding close to where you were all staying. 

It didn't take you long to get back to your room, instantly finding each other in a heated kiss. Bodies pressing against one another as you desperately tried to get closer, almost as if you wanted to become one. 

“Take this off,” Lando mumbled against your neck as he pulled at the zipper of your dress in a pitiful attempt to help you get undressed. You let the fabric pool on the floor, kicking off your heels, leaving you exposed to his hunger filled eyes. 

“It's not fair that I’m completely naked you’re not,” you complained as he guided you towards the bed, gently pushing you onto it when the back of your knees hit the edge. 

He tossed his suit jacket aside, his fingers attempting to quickly and smoothly unbutton his shirt, “better?” he asked as he was left shirtless. 

You sat up for a moment, your hands working to rid him of his trousers, smiling and resting back on the bed when you finally succeeded, “Much better.”

Lando pressed himself against you, placing kisses down your neck, “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, your hands tangling themselves into his hair as you pulled him up for a kiss. It was much more rushed than the previous kisses had been, his teeth clashing against your own, your tongues pressing against one another. His hands ran up and down the expanse of your body before finding their new home atop your breasts, each one kneading at them. 

You wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand down towards your pussy, gasping at his thumb rubbed against your clit. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you out of breath, kissing down your body. "Please,” you whispered as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your thighs. Running his tongue up your slit, wrapping his lips on to your sensitive nub. Lando continued to switch between lapping at your cunt and sucking at your clit– teasing your entrance with his middle finger, slowly pushing it in. Encouraged by your moans and the wet squelching sound coming from between your thighs, he sped up his actions, swallowing at you like a starved man. You pushed against his head, back arching off the bed as your first orgasm of the night washed over you. 

Lando pulled away, smiling up at you, “still know how to get you off,” he said smugly, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you urged him, pulling him back up, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“But teasing you is so fun.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your legs around him, quickly switching your position so that you were on top of him. “Don’t make me regret this,” you spat on your hand, taking his hard cock in your hand giving it a teasing jerk. 

“Please don’t” he grunted, your finger running against his slit. Your brows drawn together in concentration as you lined him up to your entrance, letting out a shaky breath as sank down onto him. You took a moment to adjust to having him inside you, resting your hand against his chest to steady yourself as you lifted your hips and brought them back down. You let out a shaky breath as you began to ride him, guiding his hands up to your breasts and they bounced with your movement. You had forgotten how full it felt to have him within you– clenching around his cock as he sucked at one of your breasts, rolling the other nipple between his fingers. 

Your pace faltered as you lost yourself in the pleasure, letting out loud gasps as Lando began to thrust up to meet your movements. He wrapped his hand around your hips, bringing them down harder to meet his thrusts. Landos pace increased as your nails dug into his chest, rhythm becoming sloppy as he felt his orgasm approach. “I should probably pull out,” he rasped but made no attempt to do so. 

“It's okay, I'm on birth control,” you breathed out. 

“Shit,” he stilled your movements, spilling inside of you, his fingers finding their way back to your clit in an attempt to pull another orgasm from you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck as you came for a second time. The room around you spinning slightly as you attempted to catch your breath. 

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” he asked breathlessly, voice still shaky. 

“Definitely.”

“Should we go back?”

“No,” you respond, lifting yourself off of Lando to lay beside him. You had no desire to redress and mingle at the reception after what had happened. You couldn't trust your feet to carry you for the rest of the night, especially when you still felt the dizzying effects of sex.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

They had noticed your absence, and they teased you relentlessly about it the few days after the wedding. You had reconciled with Lando, your relationship going back to the way it was before the stupid argument. And with that reconciliation came the confession, in which you confessed to everyone that you had briefly broken up. Although the break up had been entirely your fault, upon hearing the confession Carlos glared at Lando– muttering not so empty threats to him about not hurting you. You were certain he would have strangled Lando if you hadn’t reconciled. 

You smiled up at Lando as you lounged in the living room, resting your head back onto his chest. He placed a lingering kiss on the stop of your head, wrapping his arms around you. This had been your reality since Max and Kellys wedding, pure bliss. You couldn’t experience and explore for one another every waking moment. 

“I could stay like this forever,” Lando whispered into your hair, his grip around you tightening as if he were scared to lose you again. Or as if he thought this were a dream and you'd vanish at any moment with the simple sound of an alarm. But you were real and you weren’t going to lose one another again, you wouldn't allow that. 

“Me too,” you whispered back, “I love you.”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: feel free to request something, Beware: I am slow at posting and have a lot of drafts that are yet to be posted. I'm like running on 4 hours of sleep and celsius, so I apologize for the grammar and spelling mistakes. I didn't do this request justice but I tried (I swear)

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Aegon I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: Aegon spends his life desperately trying to win the love of his sister. And yet he's never enough.

Warning: Non-Con (rape), targcest, physical violence, murder, obsessive and delusional behavior, child loss/grief.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to Denis Maznev. Hope you enjoy!

She was always there.

From his earliest memories, her face is etched in his mind like a cold, pale moon. She never smiled, never laughed. Never cried. Just looked. Always watching, always silent. Even as children, while Rhaenys played with him, she was a shadow in the background. A constant presence that gnawed at him, her cold eyes watching him with that empty gaze. It was as if nothing could move her, nothing could please her. But he tried. Gods, how he tried.

He was barely seven, still small but proud of the sword his father had given him. He had trained for hours, his arms aching, his legs sore, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to show her. He wanted her to see him—really see him—for once.

He had run to her, his little chest puffed out with pride, holding his wooden practice sword like it was Blackfyre itself. "Look! Look what I can do!" he had said, his voice bright with excitement. He swung the sword in wide arcs, spinning and thrusting as best as his small body could manage. "Did you see that? I’m going to be a great warrior! You’ll see!"

But she just stood there. Watching. Her face expressionless, her eyes cold, as if she hadn’t seen anything at all. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even blink. It was like he wasn’t there, like his efforts were meaningless.

He had felt something tighten in his chest then, a feeling he didn’t understand. A hollow ache that made his hands shake as he gripped the sword tighter. He tried again, swinging harder, faster. "Are you watching?!" he had shouted, frustration leaking into his voice.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything.

She never did.

And that’s how it always was. Every time he tried, every time he showed her something—his victories in the yard, his skills in battle—she just watched. Her cold eyes always on him but never giving him what he craved. Never giving him anything.

But then, that day came. The day that broke something inside him.

He remembers the sound first. The sound of her laughing. It was so foreign, so unexpected that he almost didn’t believe it at first. He had stopped in his tracks, heart racing, the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears like the sweetest music he’d ever heard. For a moment, just a moment, he thought it was meant for him. Finally, he thought, she was laughing. She was happy. Maybe, just maybe, he had done something to make her feel.

But then he saw it.

She wasn’t laughing with him. She wasn’t laughing for him.

She was laughing with a man. Some nobody. A fool. A good-for-nothing who could never even begin to understand her, let alone deserve her. And yet, there she was, her eyes shining, her lips curved into a smile—something Aegon had never seen in all his life. She was radiant, her laughter like music, but it wasn’t for him.

The rage came fast, burning through his veins like fire. How dare this man, this insignificant speck, be the one to bring her joy? How dare she smile for him, laugh for him, when she had never once given Aegon anything but that cold, dead stare? He could hardly see through the fury as he drew his sword, his heart pounding in his ears, and with one swift strike, he cut the man’s head clean off.

The blood sprayed across the floor as the man's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, useless. And Aegon, triumphant, stood there holding the severed head, his heart racing with the thought that maybe now—now—she would see how much he loved her.

He brought the head to her, a smile tugging at his lips, presenting it like a gift, like an offering to a goddess.

But then, for the first time, he saw her cry.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent, like everything else about her. She didn’t wail or scream, just wept, her cold, distant eyes filled with sorrow. But not for him. Never for him. The realization hit him like a dagger to the chest. She wasn’t crying for him. She was mourning the other man, that worthless fool.

Could she not see? Could she not understand what he had done? He had killed for her. For her. To prove his love. Why couldn’t she see that?

It was worse now. So much worse.

He stands in the room, their child’s room, staring at the small bed where their son had once slept. His heart is heavy, his chest tight with grief that he can’t seem to swallow. Tears burn in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Their child is dead. Gone. And he can barely breathe from the weight of it.

But when he looks at her, she’s standing by the window, her back to him, staring out into the night as if nothing had happened. As if their son wasn’t lying cold and still in the crypts below.

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t even move.

His son, their child, lay lifeless, and yet...she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. The realization gnawed at him, twisting in his chest like a knife. If it had been another man’s child, would she be mourning now? Would she cry for that child, like she had cried for that worthless fool?

"Do you...do you not care?" His voice cracks, the words barely a whisper. He feels like he’s choking on the silence. "He was our child. Our son." His hands tremble, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Why… why?"

She doesn’t answer. Of course, she doesn’t.

She never answers.

The hollow ache that had plagued him since childhood is back, sharper than ever. He stares at her, at her still, cold form, and something inside him snaps. He can feel it, like a tether breaking, a dam bursting inside his mind.

"Why?" he growls, his voice low, trembling with fury. "Why can’t you love me? Is it really so hard?!" He steps toward her, fists clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. "I’ve done everything for you. Everything!"

His hands shake as he grabs her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face him. She looks at him with that same blank, emotionless expression, her eyes cold and distant, as if she’s not even here. As if she’s not even alive.

"I killed for you!" His voice is rising, desperate, wild. "I’ve fought for you, bled for you! I’ve done everything you could ever want, but you—" He pauses, his breath coming in harsh gasps as a dark, twisted thought coils in his mind. "Is this because of him? Because I killed that servant? Did you really think he could love you more than I do? That he deserved you? Him?"

His grip tightens, fingers digging into her flesh. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rage coursing through his veins. "I am the one who loves you. I’m the one who’s always loved you!"

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react. Just stares at him with those empty, cold eyes.

The silence is unbearable. It breaks him.

With a roar, he grabs her dress, tearing at the fabric, ripping it apart in his hands. He’s rough, vicious, his fingers leaving bruises on her pale skin as he forces himself onto her.

She doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t scream. She just lies there, blank, her body cold and still beneath his. The more she doesn’t react, the harder he thrusts, the rougher he becomes, as if he can force her to feel something—anything. He can feel the blood, can see the bruises forming on her skin, but she just keeps staring at him, those empty eyes boring into him, cold and unfeeling.

But it didn’t matter.

She will love me. She will.

"You will love me," he growls, his voice low and savage, each thrust more brutal than the last. "You will love me. You’ll see. I’ll make you."

But she doesn’t change. She never changes.

Even as her body bleeds, even as he takes her in the most violent, twisted way, she just looks at him with that same cold, distant stare. As if he’s nothing. As if nothing will ever be enough.

Her eyes stayed cold.

Her eyes stayed empty.

And still, he kept going.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[hee0soo]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing — Husband!Kim Hongjoong x afabWife!Reader

Summary — You gladly sacrifice anything for your kids and with a Husband lke Hobgjoong you couldn't feel happier if you tried....

Genre — fluff

AU/Trope Info — Idol!Au, SliceofLifeAu

Wordcount — 0.7k

Warnings — none

Rating — sfw

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Before you had your children you had been a heavy sleeper. You were sure that a bomb could have exploded right next to you and you wouldn’t have woken up.

It had helped when Hongjoong was still actively promoting, sneaking in and out of your bedroom at the most atrocious of times without you so much as stirring buried underneath your blankets.

Now though, with a 3 and 1 year old in the house, even the spider spinning her web in the corner of the room could probably wake you!

And so it was no surprised that even the slightest noise leaving your sons mouth in the middle of the night had you sitting upright and ready to get up if your husbands hand on your hand hadn’t stopped you before you could.

“Go back to sleep, I’ll check on him.” Hongjoongs rough from sleep voice cut through the darkness. You felt the mattress shift when he got up and rested back against your pillows, not quite ready to go back to sleep before you weren’t sure that Ha-joon was safely back in slumberland.

Tethering on the border to fall asleep while waiting, you thought about those past few years. From the moment you proposed to Hongjoong, because doing it the normal way was boring, to Hongjoong holding your hand while waiting for the pregnancy test result and promising you th whatever would happen, you would do it together and the birth of your babies.

Joon-hee’s bright personality that Hongjoong had joked was more like her uncle Woo’s then his own and Ha-joon who was showing signs of starting to walk already while babbling happily to everyone who would hear it and entertain him. The fact that Hongjoong had immediately put his career on hold all those years ago to be with his family, making him able to experience every up and down with you caused your heart to soar.

“Is he okay?” you mumbled when you heard the door open again.

“Just lost his paci for the moment. However, I also found this little lady wandering the halls.”

You opened an eye and saw the shadow of your husband with a clingy Joon-hee attached to his front.

The little girl reached her small arms out to you, crawling into your open arms upon being sat down on the mattress before Hongjoong crawled back in bed.

“Mama…” The girl whined and hid her face in your sleepshirt.

“What’s wrong baby? Why aren’t you sleeping for mama?” you hummed into the soft curls on her head.

Hongjoong, a gentle smile on his face that you couldn’t see in the dark of the night, listened attentively.

“Bad dreamies! The sockie mons’er came and wanna eat my feetsies!”

Ah yes, the unfailable fantasy of your oldest baby that even came to hunt her dreams. Joon-hee was a dreamer, always in her head, living out the wildest storys when not whirling around like a fire cracker and it was no surprise by now that sometimes nightmares were full of that too.

“Oh, we can’t have that, don’t we ladybug? Gonna save the feetsies from the evil sock monster with mama and appa!” Hongjoong gasped out and tickled her sides to make her laugh and forget the horror of her dream. The girl reacted instantly, giggling at her fathers antics before settling down between you both.

“Mama ‘n appa protec’ me?” she asked with a sleepy pout and received 2 kisses from you and him to each chubby cheek.

“Always, ladybug.” Hongjoong promised her.

“N’ Ha-Joonie?”

“And Ha-Joonie too!”

Joon-hee nodded, eyes growing heavier by the second.

“Wan’ protec’ Ha-joonie too…”

You knew immediately that she was out like a light when she trailed off smuggled against you with soft puffs of air hitting the skin on Hongjoong’s neck after she turned to her father.

Silence settled over the room. You felt his fingers reach over your daughter to trail them down your face.

“Thank you,” He whispered into the dark which only caused a stir and sigh from you, already back asleep like Joon-hee. “for making me the happiest I’ve ever been…”

[xviiper-rents-houses]

Yandere Platonic Enforcer!

Summary: An enforcer from Piltover is among the few sent down to The Lanes, (Zaun) in search of four children involved with the sudden explosion of a building near the academy. What he finds instead, is a Zaunite child.

Headcanons/drabble!

Pairing: Platonic

TW: Physical abuse (you are choked), violence in general (you are forced against a wall, apprehended) mentioned past moments of murder (" he has killed blah blah) possessive, obsessive.

The man had a name, once. Nowadays, his fellow enforcers would jerk their heads this way or jostle their shoulders that way— anything to get the point across to the empty man to follow an order. He had long forgotten his name. He was truly a void-full husk of a man. Indifferent enough that he did his job with no remorse, or even fear of killing an innocent person. Or worse, innocent people. Becoming an enforcer gave him a brief purpose but, he felt he wanted, no, needed something more.

He was among the few sent down to The Lanes, recruited by Marcus, to find four children involved with the sudden explosion of a building near the academy. This man lived a hollow life— becoming an enforcer was the first thing to light up his dull life. Born with a slow-beating heart, he found no need to fully disclose who he was but, all that interacted with him knew exactly what he was: empty.

And that something more came in the most unexpected of ways. You. Down in the sludgy mess of Zaun, in the criminally organized section called "The Lanes," was where he found you. At a first glance, he assumed you were one of the four children. You had similar key defining features that each of the four children ironically had. Goggles, tattered clothing and small carry-on bags strapped to your person. You were also very thin...and alone. You had to be one of the kids— he was lucky. The only thing amiss is the miner's helmet, which he knocked off in mere seconds after rushing towards you and apprehending you.

It took a long few moments of calculative perception— you didn't fit the descriptions. Marcus was looking for children, yes, but not as young as you. These children looked to be over fourteen or maybe fifteen— hard to tell. However, you? You couldn't be much older than five. And here you were, pinned to the wall, with his hand clasped tightly around your neck and his baton reared back, ready to strike. He was empty. Empty to the point of being eagerly ready to beat a poor, lost child up because the child just so happened to look so similar to the wanted kids.

For the first time in a while, he hesitated. He normally didn't discriminate about who he had to take down or who he had to arrest (kill) but, you looked too innocent. Way too innocent. That didn't stop the empty man from harming you entirely; you were unlucky. No, he didn't need his baton to hurt you. The man stowed it away in his utility belt. Instead, he squeezed just a little tighter, his heavy mask puffing monstrously in your face. Something about you was strange— he had to snuff it out. But then, you did something unexpected.

Your little hand reached out towards his mask, your fingers barely even grazing the surface. The man flinched away, at first, spooked. You reached again, this time, more urgent. By now, you were crying, trembling against his hold. He was waiting for you to fight back instead, do anything to get his hand off your throat but, no. You reached out towards him. The man didn't flinch away when you made contact the second time, instead, he leaned forward. The grip he had around your throat quickly lifted as you explored up the mask and to his goggles. You reached the middle of the goggles and tugged, harshly.

A pair of grey eyes peered down at your own, glinting in the low light. The man felt his heart stop. His breathing grew heavy as you relented your grasp. You continued to cry. Louder. Those grey eyes flashed a bright yellow and his heart roared to life. He felt fear for the very first time. And you were the cause of it. The man, having never known gentleness, fully released his hand from your throat and ran through your hair. You continued to cry and lurched forward, attempting to run away. The man didn't waste a moment. With both his arms, he quickly scooped you up, restraining you in the process, and tucked you against his shoulders. You put up a fearsome struggle, which ran the risk of him being caught.

The man looked around quickly, reassuring himself that you two were alone before he put his back against the wall and slid to the floor. The only thing you could make out during your fight were those bright yellow eyes, watching every single movement you made, patient and willing. He sat with you in his arms, waiting for you to slow down, to tire. It looked like you had been abandoned for weeks. He could feel every rib between his fingers— you were very light too. You were awakening a feeling he had been searching for a long time: love. He finally had a purpose.

He was going to be your father.

• The Man, who doesn't even remember his own name, takes you back to Piltover, away from Zaun. It doesn't matter if you have an existing family or not; he is your father now. (It's strange, even Piltover's guard doesn't even remember his name).

• While he has the barracks to rest in, the man finds himself back at his old home where his dead parents used to roam the hallways. Here, he can raise you well. Maybe you would give him a name? He hoped so. He will make you love him. He will be the best father you ever have.

• The man doesn't seem entirely human. He has long hair, heavy hands and those now yellow eyes. Those eyes are only ever yellow around you, nobody else. He now has a goal, a life's purpose: to protect you and be your father. He does not care if he has to kill for you: he will do it.

• If you should warm up to him and his silent nature, he offers to let you wear his helmet for playtime. He's kinder, less controlling. He takes you anywhere and everywhere he can, provided that he does not get into trouble.

• As mentioned before, he wants to have a name from you. As long as he likes how it sounds and it isn't derogatory, he will cherish the title you give him, forever. After that, he will consider finding a life-partner/trusted companion to help look after you when he can't.

That's it for now, thanks for reading!

[ghostlyreader09]

snapshots of love

kento nanami x (y/n)

enjoy!!! (i had yellow by coldplay in mind for this so give it a listen for a better experience!)

age 5: the garden grew twice

Kento Nanami was a quiet boy even at five, one who preferred the rhythm of solitude to the clamor of the playground. He found comfort in routine: the deliberate brushing of crumbs off a table, the orderly rows of books in the school library, the steady sound of his grandmother humming while she watered her garden. The world was large, loud, and unpredictable, but here in her small backyard, with the soil under his knees and the scent of marigolds in the air, he could carve out a piece of peace.

You arrived like a pebble breaking the still surface of a pond. His grandmother had called you over from next door, her words soft and warm as she introduced the neighbor’s granddaughter. Your sunhat was comically oversized, the wide brim flopping over your forehead. Dirt already streaked your cheeks, evidence of earlier mischief, but your eyes sparkled beneath the shade of the hat. Kento stared, unsure of what to make of you.

“I’m here to help!” you declared, hands on your hips, as though you’d been assigned a mission of the utmost importance. Without waiting for an invitation, you dropped to your knees beside him, your skirt pooling in the dirt.

Kento said nothing. He liked quiet, and you didn’t seem to understand the concept.

“These seeds,” you said, holding up a handful of tiny kernels, “are going to turn into the biggest sunflowers you’ve ever seen.”

“They’re just seeds,” he replied, his voice flat.

You gasped, as though he’d insulted something sacred. “They’re not just anything! They’re magic. But only if we treat them right.”

“Magic?”

“Yup.” You nodded, utterly serious. “You have to talk to them. Cheer them on. Plants grow better when they feel loved.”

Kento frowned, skeptical. His grandmother had never spoken to her flowers—she simply tended to them with care. He returned to pulling weeds, dismissing your words as nonsense. But you were undeterred. With a dramatic flourish, you buried a seed in the soil, patted the dirt gently, and leaned down until your nose was almost touching the ground.

“You’re going to grow so tall,” you whispered to the seed, your voice soft and encouraging. “You’ll reach the sky one day.”

Kento watched, equal parts amused and baffled. Your determination was infectious, though he would have never admitted it aloud.

“Your turn,” you said, holding out a single seed to him.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the seed in your palm. The idea of speaking to a plant seemed absurd. But your gaze was expectant, your eyes wide with the kind of belief only children possessed, and he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. Taking the seed, he pressed it into the soil and stared at it for a long moment.

“Grow,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You giggled, the sound as bright as sunlight breaking through clouds. “See? Now it knows you care.”

Weeks passed, and the garden bloomed as it always did. Kento had all but forgotten about the sunflowers until the day his grandmother called him outside. The air smelled of earth and rain, and the garden was alive with color. But it was the sunflowers that stopped him in his tracks.

Two rows of golden giants swayed gently in the breeze, their faces turned toward the sun. The first row was neat and orderly, the product of his grandmother’s careful planting. But the second row—slightly smaller, slightly wilder—was unmistakably yours.

Kento’s grandmother marveled at the sight, running her fingers along the sturdy stalks. “I didn’t plant these,” she said, her voice tinged with wonder. “How did they grow?”

Kento knew the answer but kept it to himself. He thought of your whispers, your dirt-streaked cheeks, the way you had spoken to the seeds as though they were friends. “(Y/N) told them to grow,” he muttered under his breath.

The next time you visited, he showed you the sunflowers, their golden heads bobbing in the wind. You beamed, your pride as radiant as the blooms themselves. “See? I told you they’d grow. They just needed someone to believe in them.”

Kento didn’t reply. He wasn’t good with words, especially when faced with your boundless enthusiasm. But he felt something stir in his chest as he looked at you, your eyes alight with joy.

It wasn’t love—not yet. He didn’t have the words for it, didn’t understand the quiet pull he felt toward you. But in that moment, standing beside you in the garden, he thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something magical about you after all.

Every time he passed by the sunflowers that summer, he thought of you. And every time, he felt that strange, inexplicable warmth bloom in his chest. Though he didn’t know it then, it was the first seed of something much bigger, something that would grow in the quiet corners of his heart, waiting for the right moment to bloom.

————

age 8: the day the sky broke

Kento Nanami wasn’t the sort of boy who ran headlong into chaos. He was deliberate, careful, and observant, already displaying a maturity that made him seem older than his ten years. At a glance, he might have seemed stoic or cold, but really, he was just trying to keep his balance in a world that often felt unsteady.

That day had begun with the heaviness of an oncoming storm. The sky hung low, bruised with dark clouds that rolled in like soldiers marching to battle. The air was thick and electric, and even the chatter of his classmates felt muffled, like everyone was holding their breath. Kento didn’t care for storms. Rain turned the ground slick and treacherous, and thunder rattled the air like a drumbeat announcing that everything could fall apart at any moment. He preferred days of clear skies and dry ground, where everything made sense and stayed where it was supposed to.

At recess, Kento had retreated to the edge of the playground, sitting under the shelter of the old swing set with a library book balanced on his knees. He wasn’t really reading—he’d read the same sentence three times without absorbing a word—but the act of holding the book gave him an excuse to stay apart from the noisy groups of children. It wasn’t that he disliked them, exactly. He just found their energy overwhelming, their laughter grating when it stretched too loud.

But then there was you.

You were part of the noise, part of the wild tangle of voices that raced across the field, but Kento had always thought you were different. You weren’t the kind of loud that made him want to retreat further into himself. Your laughter, for some reason, felt softer. More inviting. It didn’t push—it pulled.

He watched you now from the corner of his eye as you darted across the field, your ponytail swinging behind you like a banner. You were playing tag, your arms outstretched as you chased another kid, your sneakers kicking up clouds of dust. Even from a distance, Kento could see the determination on your face, the fire in your eyes. You ran like you had no intention of ever slowing down, like the world would simply have to keep up with you.

And then, as if on cue, the first drops of rain began to fall.

It started as a whisper, soft and tentative, but within moments, it was a roar. The sky opened up, unleashing sheets of water that drenched the playground in seconds. The other kids scattered, squealing as they raced for cover under the small awning near the swings. Kento closed his book, tucking it carefully into his bag to protect it from the damp.

But you didn’t run.

He saw you stop in the middle of the field, tilting your head back as the rain poured down. You stood perfectly still, your arms slack at your sides, your face upturned toward the sky. For a moment, Kento thought you were frozen, caught off guard by the sudden storm. But then you moved.

You spread your arms wide and spun in a slow, deliberate circle, your sneakers splashing in the growing puddles. Your laughter rang out across the playground, bright and unrestrained, cutting through the gray like a ray of sunlight.

Kento stared, unsure whether to feel embarrassed for you or annoyed by your recklessness. “What are you doing?” he muttered under his breath, though no one could hear him.

The other kids huddled under the awning, their jackets pulled tight around their shoulders as they whispered and pointed at you. Kento thought about joining them, about blending into the safety of the group. But something kept him rooted to the spot.

“Come back!” one of the kids yelled, their voice barely audible over the pounding rain.

You didn’t listen. Instead, you looked toward the awning—toward him—and waved. “What are you all waiting for?” you shouted, your voice carrying through the storm. “It’s just water!”

Kento felt his cheeks flush. He couldn’t understand you, couldn’t fathom why anyone would willingly stay out in the rain when shelter was so close. You were soaked to the bone, your hair plastered to your forehead and your uniform clinging to your small frame. But you didn’t seem to care.

“Nanami!” you called, your grin wide and infectious. “Come on!”

He shook his head, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “No thanks,” he muttered, though you couldn’t hear him.

You shrugged, unbothered, and returned to your puddles. Kento told himself you were foolish, reckless, even childish, but he couldn’t look away. There was something mesmerizing about the way you moved, how you jumped from puddle to puddle with abandon, each splash sending arcs of water into the air. You looked so alive, like the rain was an old friend you were welcoming home.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of recess, you finally trudged back to the awning. You were dripping wet, your uniform a mess and your shoes squelching with every step, but your grin was as bright as ever. “You missed out,” you said, shaking water from your hair like a dog. “It was amazing.”

Kento frowned, reaching into his bag and pulling out the small towel he always carried. He handed it to you without a word, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“Thanks,” you said softly, wrapping the towel around your shoulders.

As the two of you walked back to class, the rain still falling in a steady rhythm, Kento found himself glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You were dripping and disheveled, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you looked… content.

That night, as he lay in bed listening to the rain patter against his window, Kento thought about you. About the way you had defied the storm, how you had turned something most people avoided into something to celebrate. He thought about your laughter, about the way it had cut through the gray and made the world seem less heavy.

For the first time, he wondered what it might feel like to step into the rain.

And though he didn’t know it then, that day planted something new in Kento’s heart. It wasn’t a neat row of sunflowers like before. This was wilder, untamed, like the storm itself. It was the start of something that would grow quietly, steadily, until one day it became impossible to ignore.

————

age 10: summer nights of fireflys

The summer seemed to stretch forever, each day warmer than the last, the sun high and unrelenting. The grass, golden and dry from weeks without rain, brushed against Kento Nanami’s legs as he sat on the edge of the porch, staring out at the quiet yard. He loved these long afternoons, when the world seemed to settle into a slower rhythm, when even the cicadas’ hum became a steady companion to his thoughts.

The evening breeze was cooler, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth, and the last rays of sunlight kissed the edges of the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of pink and orange. A perfect summer evening.

But then there was you.

Kento watched from his perch on the porch, the heel of his sneaker dragging across the worn wood beneath him, as you darted across the yard, your small form a blur in the fading light. Your hair was wild and loose, the strands catching the glow of the sun like threads of copper and gold. You wore one of those old summer dresses with little flowers on it, the hem flying up as you ran.

“You’re going to trip, you know,” he called from his spot on the porch, though his voice lacked any real heat. He knew you weren’t listening, anyway.

“Don’t be boring, Nanami!” you shouted back, without looking over your shoulder. “Come help me! They’re getting away!”

You were chasing fireflies, darting after them with the kind of joy that Kento could only admire from a distance. Your arms reached out, fingers almost touching the glowing lights before they flitted away again, your laughter ringing through the air like a bell. Kento’s gaze lingered on you, a mix of exasperation and something else bubbling up in his chest, something he couldn’t quite name.

He was always like this, wasn’t he? Watching from the sidelines. But he couldn’t bring himself to join you, not when you were so carefree, so wrapped up in the magic of the evening. His feet stayed firmly planted on the porch, while you ran wild through the yard, your giggles like music in the air.

But then you stopped, just a little bit out of breath. Your arms hung at your sides as you took a moment to catch your breath, and Kento saw you glance at him.

“Don’t just sit there!” you yelled, waving both arms at him. “Come catch them with me!”

Kento sighed, knowing you wouldn’t stop calling until he came over. He wasn’t really sure what he would do once he joined you, but you were relentless, and it was easier to give in than to ignore you.

So, with a huff, he pushed himself off the porch, his shoes scraping against the wood as he walked toward you. “Fine, but I’m not going to run around like you,” he muttered, though there was an edge of amusement in his voice. “I’ll just watch.”

You didn’t say anything at first, but your smile grew wider as he joined you in the yard, his hands tucked in his pockets. “It’s all about the surprise,” you said, a wink flashing in your eye. “You have to surprise them. Sneak up like this.” You dropped to your knees in the grass, your hands poised like a cat’s paws.

Kento knelt beside you, unsure how to mimic your movements. He was used to doing things by the book, following the rules, being patient and quiet. But the way you approached the fireflies was something else entirely. It was more like playing hide-and-seek than anything else.

“Watch this!” you said, bouncing to your feet. Then you took a slow, exaggerated step forward, crouching low as if the fireflies might somehow notice her. You reached out with one hand, and in a moment of perfect timing, you cupped a firefly in your hand.

Kento blinked, his mouth slightly open in surprise. “You got it,” he said, his voice more stunned than impressed.

“See?” You opened your hands to reveal the tiny glowing insect resting in your palm. Its tiny body pulsed with light, the glow soft but steady. It seemed to shimmer in the last bits of daylight, small enough to fit in your palm like a secret.

Kento looked at your glowing hand for a moment before he nodded. “Okay. Let me try.”

He moved his hands carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible. But as he reached for one of the little lights, it darted away before he could catch it.

“Oh, no!” you exclaimed, laughing. “You scared it away! You have to be slower!”

Kento sighed, annoyed at himself. “I know. It’s harder than it looks.”

You giggled, not in a mean way, but in that way you did when you were trying to encourage him without mocking him. “It’s not hard,” you said, grinning. “Just watch me. You can do it. Don’t think too much. Just… reach out, slow and steady.”

Kento bit back a grin of his own. “Alright, alright.” He crouched down again, trying to copy your movements. This time, as his hand hovered close to one of the fireflies, he waited. The light blinked, bright against the dimming sky, and he made his move. Slowly, he reached out, cupping his hands together as you had done.

“Got it,” he said, the smile in his voice.

You cheered, jumping up and down. “See? I knew you could do it!” You pulled your hands back, showing him the tiny, glowing insect caught within his palms. The firefly buzzed softly, trying to free itself, but Kento held it gently, just tight enough to keep it safe.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, looking down at the tiny creature. It pulsed faintly in the dark, like a little heartbeat.

“You did it,” you said, breathless, your eyes wide. “That was amazing!”

Kento didn’t say anything at first, just letting his hands stay still, watching the way the light in his palm reflected in your eyes. You weren’t looking at him the way most people did—you weren’t waiting for him to say something clever or show off. You were just… there, in the moment with him.

“Thanks,” he said, finally looking up at you. His voice was quiet, almost shy.

You smiled, and there was something warm in that smile, something unspoken between you, as if the evening had somehow woven a secret thread connecting the two of you.

“I’m going to let it go now,” Kento said, his voice soft.

You nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

He slowly opened his hands, watching as the little firefly blinked once and then darted upward, disappearing into the night like a tiny star.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the distant rustling of the trees and the occasional soft chime of crickets in the grass. The fireflies began to thin out as the night grew deeper, but Kento didn’t want to leave yet. The moment felt too fragile, like if he moved, it might shatter.

“I’m going to go in soon,” you said suddenly, turning toward your house.

“Yeah,” Kento replied, standing up and brushing the grass from his knees. “I should too.”

You didn’t walk away immediately, though. Instead, you lingered, the two of you standing side by side, your shadows long on the grass in the dimming light.

“Goodnight, Nanami,” you said finally, your voice soft and sincere.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he replied, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As you turned and ran back toward the house, your dress fluttering behind you in the summer night, Kento watched you go. Something shifted inside him, something warm and quiet, like a secret he didn’t know how to name yet.

And for the first time, Kento realized that the fireflies weren’t the only things that had gotten away that night. He had, too—lost in the glow of your laughter, in the quiet magic of just being beside you.

————

age 13: maybe something more?

The sun was bright, almost too bright, as Kento Nanami stood in the schoolyard, his uniform pressed neatly, the edges of his shirt stiff against his skin. It was one of those mid-afternoon moments where the air felt thick with humidity, making even the simplest movement feel like a slow-motion effort. He hated the weight of it, how the sun seemed to burn into his back, leaving his skin feeling hot and sticky, despite the fact that school was over for the day.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, trying to cool his palms. The yard was filled with the usual bustle of students—some laughing, some chasing after balls, others in animated groups exchanging stories from the day. But Kento wasn’t really paying attention to any of them.

His gaze was fixed on you.

You were a few steps away from him, talking to one of the girls from your class. You were laughing at something she’d said, your smile wide and unguarded, that familiar light in your eyes—bright, wild, and completely free. Kento didn’t know why, but he found himself watching you more often lately. Maybe it was how you seemed to move through life so effortlessly, like you didn’t carry the same weight of responsibility he did, or maybe it was how you could make something as simple as walking across the schoolyard look like a kind of magic.

He swallowed hard and looked away quickly, hoping no one noticed the way his thoughts seemed to linger on you. It wasn’t something he wanted to acknowledge, not just yet. Kento was always careful with his emotions, keeping them tightly locked away, like precious objects in a box. Feelings were distractions—he knew that much. They didn’t make sense, didn’t follow rules. But lately, there was a tug in his chest, something odd that stirred every time you laughed or looked his way, something that felt less like a choice and more like something inevitable.

“Oi, Nanami! What are you staring at?”

The voice pulled him from his thoughts with the sharpness of a well-aimed dart. He turned his head, only to see Gojo and Suguru standing just a few feet away, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Gojo’s expression was that of someone who’d just discovered the greatest secret in the universe, while Suguru had that mischievous glint in his eyes, the one that always preceded trouble.

Kento felt his cheeks flush, but he kept his gaze steady. He hadn’t even realized they were nearby.

“I wasn’t staring,” Kento muttered, his voice steady, but his heart rate spiking ever so slightly.

Gojo rolled his eyes dramatically, stepping closer, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Oh, come on, Nanami. Don’t act like we don’t know.” He leaned in, lowering his voice as though sharing the most scandalous gossip. “You’ve been eyeing (Y/N) like a hawk for weeks now. What’s going on, huh? You like her or something?”

Kento’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he couldn’t find his words. The teasing was sharp, but not unkind, and it stung more than it should have. Gojo’s eyes gleamed with that playful arrogance that always made him impossible to ignore. Suguru, ever the instigator, leaned in with an exaggerated expression of curiosity.

“Well, Kento? Are you going to admit it? Have you caught feelings for (Y/N)?” Suguru’s grin stretched wider, knowing he had the upper hand.

Kento couldn’t suppress the heat rising in his cheeks, and he quickly averted his eyes, looking back down at the ground, though it did nothing to quell the nervous flutter in his stomach. Was it that obvious? Did they know?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kento muttered, but there was no bite to his words. It was almost a reflex, a defense against something he wasn’t ready to face. “I’m not interested in all that.”

Suguru gave him a knowing look. “Sure, sure,” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know, Nanami, it’s perfectly normal for a guy to like a girl. Don’t you think it’s a little strange to keep denying it?”

Gojo snorted in the background. “What he means to say is… maybe you’re afraid of her finding out you like her. You’ve got a crush, huh? That’s so cute.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy silence. It wasn’t that Kento didn’t know what a crush was. He’d seen his classmates laugh and blush when they talked about their crushes, and he understood the concept. But somehow, hearing it applied to him made his thoughts spin. Was it really a crush? Was he really feeling that way?

He couldn’t answer them, not right away. It was as if his words were tangled up with the feeling itself—something soft and confusing that was stirring inside him whenever you were near. He didn’t want to admit it, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He hadn’t just noticed you because you were always around. No, it was something deeper, something he didn’t know how to put into words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kento muttered again, though it was a little less convincing this time.

Gojo laughed loudly, slinging an arm around Kento’s shoulders in that over-the-top, annoyingly affectionate way that always made Kento feel like a little kid again. “It’s fine, Nanami! We’ve all been there. I mean, come on, look at you. You’re practically glowing whenever you look at her. Your little ‘silent admiration’ thing is cute, but don’t you think it’s time to say something?”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Kento snapped, though the heat on his face was undeniable.

Suguru chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, we’re just trying to help. So… what’s the plan? Are you going to keep pretending you don’t like her?”

Before Kento could respond, you walked over, still laughing with your friend, oblivious to the conversation happening just a few feet away. You gave a friendly wave in Kento’s direction, and his stomach lurched in a way he didn’t understand. His heart, as if on cue, gave a little jump, and his breath caught in his throat.

“See?” Gojo whispered to him, his voice low but teasing. “You can’t even look at her without getting all flustered. That’s your cue, Nanami. You’re whipped.”

Kento could only nod stiffly, his eyes following you as you walked past, his mind a flurry of thoughts he couldn’t quiet. Was he really being obvious? Was it possible that everyone could see it, even if he couldn’t bring himself to admit it?

You smiled at him, and something in Kento’s chest seemed to tighten. The world around him seemed to fade out for a moment, leaving only the soft sound of your laughter and the memory of your smile.

“Hey, Nanami,” you called, your voice light and carefree, like always. “You going to hang out with us later? There’s a movie marathon at my place.”

For a moment, Kento just stood there, unable to form a coherent thought. You were inviting him. You were inviting him to spend time with you. And that was when it hit him—the overwhelming flood of realization. It wasn’t just admiration. It wasn’t just a passing fancy. He liked you. He liked you in a way that felt like something real.

And the worst part? He was terrified. Terrified of what it meant, terrified of what would happen if he told you. He was sure of one thing, though—he couldn’t hide this feeling much longer.

“You should go,” Suguru said with a grin, nudging Kento in the ribs. “She’s waiting.”

Kento barely heard him. The only thing he could hear was the quiet pounding of his own heart, louder now than the teasing laughter of his friends.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice softer than he intended.

You waved again, and for the first time, Kento didn’t feel the need to look away. He simply smiled back at you, quietly acknowledging the truth that he couldn’t deny anymore.

————

age 15: where the earth breathes life

The sky stretched endlessly above Jujutsu Sorcerer High, painted in hues of late-afternoon gold. A faint breeze swept across the training grounds, tugging at the edges of uniforms and sending whispers through the surrounding trees. Kento Nanami stood in the shade of one such tree, its branches sprawling like outstretched arms, a quiet sanctuary from the relentless sun.

His friends, Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto, were animated as ever, their voices blending into the hum of cicadas and the distant clash of training spells.

“Okay, okay, hear me out,” Gojo said, reclining against the base of the tree with his arms tucked behind his head. His infinity field shimmered faintly around him, a subtle but constant reminder of his strength. “If you had my technique—limitless and the Six Eyes—what’s the first thing you’d do with it?”

Suguru chuckled, twirling a loose strand of his dark hair between his fingers. “I wouldn’t waste it showing off like you, that’s for sure.”

“Showing off?” Gojo sat up straight, mock-offended. “I don’t show off. I demonstrate my genius. There’s a difference.”

Nanami exhaled through his nose, a small, barely perceptible laugh escaping him. He wasn’t one to get caught up in their endless banter, but their dynamic always managed to lighten the weight of the world they carried.

“And what about you, Nanami?” Suguru turned to him, tilting his head in genuine curiosity. “What would you do if your Ratio Technique wasn’t bound by limitations?”

Kento thought for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s not about pushing boundaries for the sake of power,” he said quietly. “It’s about precision. Control. Efficiency.”

“Always so serious,” Gojo teased, leaning closer with a grin. “You know, Nanami, you might actually smile if you loosened up a little.”

Before Kento could reply, the breeze shifted, carrying with it a faint, sweet scent—earthy, alive, and tinged with something floral. It was subtle at first, but it drew his attention like a thread pulling him toward something unseen.

“Do you smell that?” Suguru asked, straightening up.

Gojo sniffed the air dramatically. “Yeah, smells like…” He paused, his grin widening. “(Y/N).”

Kento froze. Your name landed like a weight in his chest, tugging at something he wasn’t prepared to confront. He followed the direction of the breeze, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a figure in the distance, standing at the edge of the practice field.

It was you.

You were alone, your back turned to them, your posture relaxed yet purposeful. Your hands hovered over the ground, and as Kento watched, a faint glow of cursed energy began to pulse around you. The energy wasn’t sharp or chaotic like so many techniques he’d seen before. It was soft, flowing, and alive, like the rhythm of a heartbeat.

He stepped away from the tree, drawn toward you before he realized what he was doing. Gojo and Suguru exchanged knowing looks but said nothing, letting him go.

From his vantage point, Kento could see the ground beneath your feet begin to change. Where there had been only dry earth and sparse grass, something miraculous began to bloom. A single green sprout pushed through the soil, followed by another, and another, until a field of lush wildflowers surrounded you, their vibrant colors swaying gently in the breeze.

But it didn’t stop there.

With a graceful wave of your hand, vines erupted from the earth, twisting and curling as they reached toward the sky. Trees grew in fast-forward, their trunks thickening and branches spreading wide, leaves unfurling in shades of deep green. It was as if the earth itself responded to your call, breathing life into the barren space around you.

Kento’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d seen you practice before, of course. You were a gifted sorcerer, your nature manipulation technique as unique as it was beautiful. But this—this was different. There was something about the way you moved, the way your cursed energy flowed so effortlessly into the earth, that left him completely captivated.

Your face was serene, your focus absolute. Strands of your hair caught the sunlight, glowing like molten gold, and your expression—calm yet determined—was unlike anything he’d ever seen. You weren’t just commanding the earth; you were connected to it, in a way that felt almost sacred.

“Wow,” Gojo whispered from behind him, breaking the spell. “She’s something else, huh?”

Kento didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on you, unable to look away.

Suguru leaned against the tree, his arms crossed. “You know, Nanami,” he said, his voice teasing but quiet, “if you stare any harder, you might actually set her on fire.”

“Shut up,” Kento muttered, though there was no real heat in his words.

The vines you’d summoned began to move, twisting together to form intricate shapes—arches, spirals, and patterns so delicate they looked like lace. Then, with a flick of your wrist, the vines shot forward, striking a nearby training dummy with enough force to shatter it into pieces.

You stepped back, breathing hard, your shoulders rising and falling with the effort. The glow of your cursed energy began to fade, but the beauty you’d created remained—a lush oasis of life where there had once been only barren earth.

Kento felt something stir deep within him, a feeling he couldn’t quite name. It was more than admiration, more than respect for your skill. It was a quiet awe, a sense of wonder that left him both exhilarated and terrified.

You turned then, as if sensing his presence, your eyes meeting his across the field. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you. You smiled—a small, shy smile—and Kento felt his chest tighten, his heart pounding like the rhythm of a distant drum.

“Hey, Nanami,” you called, your voice light but steady. “How long have you been standing there?”

He opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. How could he explain the way he felt, the way you seemed to make the earth itself come alive?

“Not long,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Just practicing,” you said, as if what you’d done was the most natural thing in the world.

Kento nodded, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He wanted to say something more, something meaningful, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he stood there, letting the silence stretch between you, filled with all the things he couldn’t say.

“You’re incredible,” he wanted to tell you. “You make the world look different. Brighter. Alive.”

But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he watched as you turned back to your practice, the glow of your energy lighting up the field once more.

Behind him, Gojo and Suguru snickered quietly, their whispers lost in the breeze. But Kento didn’t care.

For the first time, he realized that his feelings for you weren’t just a passing infatuation. They were rooted deep, like the vines you summoned from the earth—strong, unyielding, and impossible to ignore.

And as he stood there, watching you shape the world with your hands, he couldn’t help but wonder if you had already shaped him, too.

————

age 16: the weight of mortality

The rain had stopped hours ago, but the ground remained slick and treacherous as Kento Nanami and you navigated the forest. The air hung heavy, dense with the clinging scent of wet earth and decayed wood. Shadows twisted unnaturally among the trees, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like broken hands.

“We should’ve run into it by now,” Kento muttered, his voice low, wary. His grip on his weapon tightened as his eyes scanned the path ahead.

“It’s close,” you said, your voice steadier than his. You knelt beside a patch of disturbed earth, fingers brushing the mud. There was no mistaking the lingering traces of malevolent cursed energy. “It’s watching us. Waiting.”

That was what unnerved Kento the most. The curse was grade one, and grade one curses didn’t wait. They attacked with reckless fury, their hatred for humanity so consuming they couldn’t hold themselves back. But this one—this one was different. It was intelligent.

“We need to keep moving,” he said, extending a hand to help you to your feet. The touch was brief, professional, but his heart still skipped in its chest.

You nodded, falling in step beside him, the soft glow of your cursed energy forming a protective aura around you. It lit the path ahead, a faint beacon against the encroaching dark, but Kento knew it was also a lure. The curse would come for it—would come for you.

And then the forest stilled.

Every sound vanished at once: the rustling leaves, the distant calls of night birds, even the faint hum of the wind. It was as though the entire world held its breath. Kento stopped in his tracks, holding an arm out in front of you.

“Kento?” you whispered.

He didn’t respond. His eyes narrowed, scanning the trees for any flicker of movement. The silence was oppressive, pressing against his ears like a scream held just out of reach. His body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring.

Then, it came.

The curse emerged from the shadows with terrifying speed, a blur of jagged limbs and gleaming fangs. Its body twisted grotesquely, its long, spindly arms ending in claws that glistened like obsidian. Its head was almost human, but its eyes burned with a sickly yellow light, and its mouth stretched into an unnatural grin.

“Move!” Kento barked, pushing you to the side as the curse’s claws slashed through the space where you’d been standing.

The fight began in a whirlwind of chaos.

The curse was fast, faster than anything they’d anticipated. It darted between the trees, its movements erratic and impossible to predict. Kento swung his weapon, his Ratio Technique flashing as he aimed for its weak points, but the creature twisted out of reach with an agility that defied logic.

You were already in motion, your cursed energy flaring as you summoned vines from the earth. They erupted from the ground like serpents, coiling and snapping toward the curse in an attempt to restrain it. For a moment, it worked—the vines wrapped around its limbs, tightening like chains.

“Kento, now!” you shouted.

He lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. The curse shrieked as the blade connected, severing one of its arms. But instead of retreating, it retaliated, its remaining claw slashing at him with feral intensity. Kento barely had time to raise his weapon to block, the force of the impact sending him staggering back.

The vines began to wither, the curse’s malevolent energy eating away at them. With a violent roar, it broke free, its twisted body writhing with rage. It turned its glowing eyes on you, and Kento felt his stomach drop.

“Get back!” he shouted, but it was too late.

The curse moved faster than he could, its clawed hand striking you with bone-crushing force. You were thrown into the air like a rag doll, your body colliding with the trunk of a tree before crumpling to the ground.

“(Y/N)!”

Kento’s voice cracked as he ran to you, his heart pounding in his chest. You lay motionless, your breathing shallow, blood seeping from a gash on your forehead. Your cursed energy flickered weakly, the once-brilliant glow reduced to a faint shimmer.

“Stay with me,” Kento said, dropping to his knees beside you. He didn’t dare shake you, afraid of causing more harm. “Can you hear me? (Y/N), look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused but alive. “I’m… fine,” you whispered, though the words were barely audible.

“You’re not fine,” he snapped, his voice trembling with barely contained panic. “Don’t move. Just stay still.”

Behind him, the curse let out a guttural growl, its twisted form shifting as it prepared to strike again. Kento turned, his jaw tightening as he rose to his feet. His body ached from the earlier blows, but he ignored the pain. He couldn’t afford to falter.

The curse lunged, and Kento met it head-on. His movements were sharp, deliberate, every strike calculated with the precision he’d spent years perfecting. But the creature was relentless, its hatred radiating from it in waves. It clawed and snapped, its attacks wild yet devastatingly powerful.

Kento ducked beneath one of its strikes, his blade slashing upward to sever another limb. The curse screamed, its body convulsing as black ichor spilled from the wound. But even maimed, it fought with a ferocity that made Kento’s blood run cold.

It was toying with him, he realized. It wanted to drag this out, to prolong their suffering.

Kento’s anger flared, hot and consuming. “You don’t get to win,” he growled, his voice low and venomous.

With a surge of cursed energy, he activated his Ratio Technique, his blade glowing with a golden light. He lunged forward, his movements swift and precise, and drove the blade deep into the curse’s chest.

The creature let out one final, ear-splitting shriek before its body disintegrated into ash.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Kento stood there for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The glow of his cursed energy faded, leaving him in the dim light of the forest.

Then he turned back to you.

You were still slumped against the tree, your eyes half-closed and your breathing shallow. Kento’s heart twisted at the sight of you, so small and fragile against the towering trunk. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as they hovered over your injuries.

“You’re an idiot,” he said, his voice breaking.

You blinked up at him, your lips curling into a faint smile. “Nice to see you, too.”

“I’m serious,” Kento said, his hands finally resting on either side of your face, his touch gentle despite the turmoil raging inside him. “You could’ve died. Do you understand that?”

You didn’t respond, and for a moment, the weight of his words hung heavy between you.

“I can’t…” Kento’s voice faltered, his throat tightening. He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat.

He couldn’t say it. Not yet.

Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his touch tender as he began to bandage your wounds with shaking hands. His care was deliberate, almost reverent, as if tending to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You reached up, placing a weak hand over his. “I’m okay,” you said softly. “Really.”

But Kento shook his head, his jaw clenched. “You’re not okay,” he said. “You’re hurt, and it’s because you refuse to think about yourself. You’re always so focused on everyone else, and one day, it’s going to get you killed.”

You smiled faintly, your eyes meeting his. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, you did,” he said, his voice cracking despite his efforts to stay composed.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. Kento’s hands lingered on yours, his grip firm but comforting.

“I care about you, (Y/N),” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I can explain. So please… don’t ever do something like that again. I wouldn’t—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, your smile soft and tired. “I’ll try,” you said. “For you.”

And though the words were simple, they carried a weight that left Kento breathless. He didn’t know how to tell you the depth of what he felt, didn’t know how to put into words the way you seemed to fill the cracks in his carefully constructed world.

So he stayed silent, his hands still cradling yours, silently vowing to protect you—no matter the cost.

————

age 17: gravity, giggles, and grace(or lack of thereof)

The late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows of Jujutsu High’s ancient halls, casting golden streaks on the scuffed tiles. You and Kento Nanami walked side by side, a stack of textbooks in his arms and your hands swinging freely at your sides.

“Okay, Nanami, answer me this,” you began, already grinning. “Why do you carry your books like that? Are you afraid they’ll run away if you don’t keep them in a death grip?”

Kento, ever composed, arched an eyebrow without breaking his stride. “It’s practical. Less risk of them slipping.”

You rolled your eyes. “Practical. You are the human embodiment of that word. Do you dream about practicality, too? Like, ‘Oh, what an efficient cloud formation tonight!’”

There it was—the faintest twitch of his lips. A Nanami half-smile, as rare as a sunny day during monsoon season. “I’ll have you know I’ve never once dreamed about clouds.”

“Ah, right,” you said, nodding solemnly. “Your dreams are probably about perfectly portioned bread loaves.”

Kento stopped walking, turning to you with an expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “Do you even listen to yourself when you talk?”

“Constantly,” you replied with mock pride. “It’s part of my charm.”

He let out a soft huff, adjusting the books under his arm. “I don’t know how I let myself get roped into this.”

“Because I’m delightful,” you said, spinning around so you could walk backward and grin at him. “Admit it, Nanami. Studying with me is the best part of your week.”

“I admit nothing.”

“Oh, you love me,” you teased, waggling your eyebrows.

Kento was about to retort, probably with some dry remark, but you didn’t give him the chance. Too busy laughing at your own antics, you didn’t notice the top step of the staircase behind you.

And then—gravity intervened.

Your foot slipped, and for a split second, you felt the universe itself betray you. Arms flailing, you let out a startled squeal, your body tipping backward.

“(Y/N)!” Kento shouted, lunging toward you.

It was a valiant effort, really. His arm shot out with all the precision of his Ratio Technique. But fate, or perhaps just bad timing, was not on his side. His fingertips brushed your sleeve—just enough to not catch you.

You tumbled backward down the stairs in a whirlwind of arms, legs, and increasingly hysterical giggles.

It should’ve been a scene of chaos, maybe even concern, but instead, laughter erupted from your lips as you hit step after step. “Oh noooo!” you cried between fits of uncontrollable snickering, your voice bouncing off the walls.

“Are you serious?!” Kento shouted from the top of the staircase, staring down at you in absolute disbelief. “How are you laughing right now?”

Your body finally came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, where you sprawled out like a starfish. There was a brief silence—save for your wheezing giggles—and then you erupted again, full-bodied and tear-inducing.

“Oh my—Nanami!” you managed, clutching your stomach. “Did you see that? I just—I went full acrobat mode!”

He was down the stairs in three long strides, his books abandoned somewhere behind him. Dropping to one knee beside you, Kento hovered uncertainly, his hands ghosting over your arms and legs. “Are you okay? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, I’m peachy!” you replied through your laughter, flopping dramatically onto your back. “Ten out of ten! Would recommend falling down a flight of stairs to anyone!”

His lips twitched again, the corners threatening to pull into a smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re the worst catcher ever!” you countered, sitting up and pointing at him accusingly. “What happened to your vaunted precision? Your super reflexes? Did you even try?”

Kento’s mouth opened in protest, but then he hesitated. “I—well—”

“Oh no, you don’t get to explain your failure!” You doubled over, laughing so hard your face turned red. “Your face—oh my God, Kento—your face when I fell! You looked like someone just insulted bread!”

That did it. A chuckle slipped past his defenses, quiet at first, but then it grew. The usually unflappable Kento Nanami let out a full-bodied laugh, deep and rich and entirely uncharacteristic.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he said, though he didn’t sound remotely serious.

“But it’s so easy!” you shot back, tears streaming down your face as you wiped them away.

Kento leaned back against the wall, his laughter mixing with yours in the echoing hallway. It was contagious—every time you started to calm down, one look at his rare, genuine smile sent you spiraling into giggles again.

“I still can’t believe you’re okay,” he said after a while, shaking his head in disbelief. “You fell like… twelve steps.”

“I told you, I’m made of steel,” you said, flexing an imaginary bicep. “Nothing can take me down.”

“Except stairs.”

“Except stairs,” you agreed, grinning.

The two of you stayed on the floor for a while, leaning against each other as the last remnants of laughter faded into the warm quiet of the hallway. The sunlight streamed in, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the air, and for a moment, everything felt light.

“Thank you for trying to catch me,” you said after a while, glancing over at him.

He shrugged, his expression soft but unreadable. “I’ll catch you next time.”

“You better,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

And as you both sat there, side by side at the bottom of the stairs, Kento let himself relax. Your laughter was still ringing in his ears, and for the first time in a long while, he thought: Maybe the world isn’t so heavy after all.

————

age 18: the words that wouldn’t come

The golden hues of the setting sun bathed the grounds of Jujutsu High in a dreamlike light, illuminating every blade of grass, every stone, and every goodbye exchanged in hushed tones. The ceremony had concluded hours ago, the caps tossed, the congratulations shared. And yet, the air hummed with lingering anticipation, as if the day hadn’t truly ended.

You and Kento Nanami stood at the edge of the training field, where countless battles had unfolded, where victories and bruises were won in equal measure. Now, it was quiet, the echoes of sparring matches and laughter replaced by a solemn stillness.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, your voice light and teasing as always. “That’s it. We survived.”

Kento looked at you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his tall frame still and composed. But there was a tension to him, something barely concealed under the ever-present calm he wore like armor.

“We did,” he said simply, his tone even, his gaze steady.

“You don’t sound very thrilled,” you teased, nudging his arm. “Come on, Nanami. It’s over. No more grueling training sessions, no more Yaga yelling at us to get up at the crack of dawn. Aren’t you even a little excited?”

“I don’t think ‘excited’ is the right word,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Of course not. You’d probably use something like… ‘adequately satisfied with the progression of events.’”

That earned a soft huff from him—half a laugh, half a sigh. It was a sound you’d grown to love over the years, even if he didn’t realize how often he made it when you were around.

The breeze picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers from the nearby garden. You turned your face to the wind, closing your eyes for a moment and letting the cool air brush against your skin.

Kento, standing just a step away, watched you quietly. There was something about the way the light caught in your hair, the way your expression softened in the glow of the setting sun, that made his chest tighten.

“I need to say something,” he said suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You opened your eyes and turned to him, your brows lifting in curiosity. “What’s up?”

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. How did one even begin to explain years of unspoken feelings? How did he tell you that you weren’t just a friend to him, that you hadn’t been for a long time?

“I’ve been thinking about what’s next,” he started, his voice low but steady. “Now that we’ve graduated, things are going to change.”

“Well, yeah,” you said, leaning against the old wooden fence that bordered the field. “That’s kind of the whole point. Change is good, right?”

“Not always.”

There was a weight to his words that made you pause. Your teasing smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet concern. “Kento, what’s wrong?”

He looked at you then, his gaze searching, as if trying to find the courage he so desperately needed.

“I just… I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his voice faltering slightly. “For a while now.”

You tilted your head, waiting patiently. But that was the problem—you were always so patient, so kind, and it made this even harder.

Kento exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “I—” He stopped, the words catching in his throat. How could he say it without ruining everything? Without changing the way you looked at him, the way you smiled so easily in his presence?

“You…?” you prompted, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He clenched his fists at his sides, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. For all his precision, for all his calculated movements, this was something he couldn’t master.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally, his tone clipped.

Your frown deepened. “Nanami, come on. You’ve clearly got something on your mind. Just say it.”

“I said it’s nothing,” he repeated, his voice sharper this time. But then, as if realizing he’d spoken too harshly, he softened. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your lips pressing into a thin line. “If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have brought it up,” you said quietly.

He looked away, his jaw tightening. He hated this—the way he couldn’t find the right words, the way his heart betrayed him every time he tried to speak.

“I just wanted to say… thank you,” he said finally, though it felt like a coward’s escape.

“For what?” you asked, your voice softening.

“For everything,” he said, meeting your gaze at last. “For being you. For sticking by me all these years.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “Well, yeah. Of course. What are friends for?”

Friends.

The word hit him like a blow, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a small smile. “Friends.”

You seemed satisfied with that, your usual grin returning as you reached out to lightly punch his arm. “You’re such a weirdo sometimes, Nanami. But you’re my weirdo, I guess.”

The words warmed and stung in equal measure, and all he could do was nod.

“Come on,” you said, pushing off the fence and gesturing toward the main building. “The others are probably wondering where we are.”

He followed you without a word, his heart heavy with everything left unsaid.

As you walked ahead, chatting about Gojo’s ridiculous antics or Suguru’s latest half-serious plan to prank Yaga, Kento allowed himself one stolen glance at you. The way you moved, carefree and full of light, the way your laughter seemed to fill the air—it was unbearable and beautiful all at once.

He clenched his fists, the words he couldn’t say swirling in his chest like a storm.

One day, he promised himself. One day, I’ll tell you.

But today wasn’t that day. And as much as it hurt, he knew he’d wait as long as it took.

————

age 20: the rift between us

The café was nearly empty, a quiet refuge from the torrential downpour outside. Rain cascaded down the windows, blurring the world into a wash of grays and silvers. The air inside was warm, thick with the scent of roasted coffee beans and something bittersweet—regret, maybe, or something close to it.

You sat across from Kento Nanami, your hands curled around a mug that had long since gone cold. His gaze was fixed on the table, tracing the grain of the wood as though it might tell him how to explain the mess inside his head.

“So, that’s it?” you asked, your voice low but sharp, each word a carefully aimed dart. “You’re quitting.”

Kento didn’t look up, his fingers tightening around his own mug. The coffee in it remained untouched. “I’ve made my decision,” he said finally, his voice even, too even. “This life… it’s not sustainable.”

The calm in his tone infuriated you, made the ache in your chest twist into something hotter, sharper. “Not sustainable?” you repeated, your voice rising slightly. “That’s what you’re going with? After everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve built together—‘not sustainable’ is your excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse,” he said quietly, still refusing to meet your eyes.

You leaned forward, your hands trembling now, whether from anger or desperation you couldn’t tell. “Then what is it, Kento? What is this if not you running away?”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before his mask of composure slipped back into place. “I’m not running away,” he said, the words clipped. “I’m making a choice. A rational choice.”

“And I’m just supposed to accept that?” you shot back, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to hold it steady. “I’m supposed to just sit here and watch you throw everything away? Watch you throw us away?”

At that, his head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was something raw there, something unspoken and unsteady, and it made your breath catch.

“This isn’t about us,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “It’s about me. About what I can handle—what I can’t handle.”

“You can’t handle this anymore?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Fine. But did you even think about what this means for the rest of us? For me? Did you even consider—”

“Of course I considered it!” he interrupted, his voice rising for the first time, startling you. “Do you think this was an easy decision for me? Do you think I wanted to walk away?”

“Then why are you?” you demanded, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Because I can’t keep doing this!” he shouted, the frustration in his voice cutting through the thick air between you. “I can’t keep waking up every day wondering if it’s going to be my last. I can’t keep watching people I care about—people I love—throw themselves into danger over and over again.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The rain outside seemed louder now, a relentless drumming that matched the pounding of your heart.

“This life,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense, “it’s a death sentence. You know that as well as I do. And I can’t—I won’t—let it consume me.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, your hands trembling around your mug. “So that’s it,” you said finally, your voice hollow. “You’re leaving because you’re scared.”

“It’s not fear,” he said, his tone defensive. But the flicker of something in his eyes—something vulnerable, something fragile—betrayed him.

“Then what is it, Kento?” you pressed, your voice rising again. “Because all I see right now is someone who’s running from everything he’s ever cared about.”

“I’m not running,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m trying to survive.”

“And what about the rest of us?” you asked, your voice breaking now. “What about me? Do you think I don’t want to survive too? Do you think I don’t dream about a life where I don’t have to fight, where I don’t have to wonder if the next mission will be my last?”

He didn’t answer, his silence more damning than any words he could have said.

“But I don’t get to walk away,” you continued, your voice trembling. “Because if I do, then all of this—all the pain, all the loss—it’ll have been for nothing.”

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for a world that doesn’t care.”

“And you think the corporate world is going to care about you?” you shot back, bitterness creeping into your tone. “You think pushing papers and chasing profits is going to fill the void you’re running from?”

His face hardened, his hands curling into fists on the table. “At least it’s a life,” he said.

“Is it?” you asked, leaning forward. “Or is it just a way to numb yourself from everything you’re too afraid to face?”

The words struck like a blow, and you saw the flicker of pain in his eyes before he looked away.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the rain.

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling in your chest like a stone. You wanted to scream, to cry, to shake him until he understood what he was throwing away. But instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to speak.

“Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “If you’re so eager to leave, then go. But don’t expect me to wait around while you figure out what you’re running from.”

“What are you saying?” he asked, his voice tight, his composure finally cracking.

“I’m saying I can’t do this either,” you said, standing abruptly. “I’m taking a long-term mission in the States. A year, maybe two. Maybe longer. I need space, Kento. From you, from all of this.”

His eyes widened, panic flickering across his face. “(Y/N), wait—”

“No,” you said, cutting him off. “You made your choice. Now I’m making mine.”

You turned and walked away, the sound of the rain swallowing the sound of your footsteps.

Kento sat frozen, his chest heaving, his heart pounding against his ribs. He wanted to call after you, to stop you, to say something—anything—that might make you stay. But the words wouldn’t come.

And as the door closed behind you, the weight of what he’d done crashed down on him, suffocating in its finality.

He sat there long after you were gone, the rain outside a relentless reminder of the storm he had unleashed. He told himself he had made the right choice, that this was the only way. But as the silence pressed in around him, all he could feel was the aching void where you had been.

And for the first time, Kento Nanami wondered if survival was worth the cost of losing you.

————

age 22: a call across the ages

The sun was setting on a city Kento Nanami had never intended to visit. It was a business trip—nothing more, nothing less. The skyline of Chicago stretched out in front of him, jagged and unfamiliar, a maze of concrete and glass that seemed to mirror the labyrinth inside his chest. The golden light painted everything in soft hues, but for him, the world felt muted, heavy with the weight of things unsaid and undone.

Two years. Two long, quiet, endless years since he’d last seen you. Two years since you had walked out of that café, your eyes filled with tears he hadn’t been able to stop. You had left for America, and with you, you had taken a part of him he hadn’t realized he’d given away until it was gone.

The first few months had been unbearable. He’d asked Gojo, Suguru, even Shoko, where you were, how you were doing. Every time, he was met with silence or vague reassurances that you were fine. He had stopped asking after a while, realizing that they were protecting you from him—or perhaps protecting him from himself.

Life had become a series of routines after that. Wake up. Go to work. Pretend not to miss you with every breath. But now, standing in the shadow of a foreign city, something stirred in him, a restlessness that had been dormant for far too long.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him out of his thoughts. He frowned, pulling it out to see an unfamiliar number lighting up the screen.

“Hello?” he answered, his voice steady but distant, as though the call were just another part of his endless routine.

What he heard on the other end shattered that façade instantly.

“K-Kento…” Your voice was barely a whisper, broken and raw, like shattered glass scraping against stone.

His breath caught. For a moment, he thought he might be dreaming. But then you spoke again, and the panic in your voice was unmistakable.

“Kento, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I—” A sharp gasp cut through your words, and he could hear your ragged breathing, the tremor in your voice that made his stomach twist into knots.

“(Y/N)?” he said, his voice sharper now, the calm businessman replaced by something far more primal. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“I—I tried,” you sobbed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I tried so hard, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it without you. I thought I could, but I can’t. Kento, it’s too much. It’s too much—”

“Slow down,” he said, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. “Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know,” you cried, your voice trembling. “I’m hiding—I don’t even know where—there’s this curse, and I tried to exorcise it, I tried, but it’s too strong. I’m so tired, Kento. I can’t do it alone anymore. I can’t—”

His free hand clenched into a fist, his nails digging into his palm as he forced himself to stay calm. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll find you, (Y/N). Just hold on.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice so small it made his chest ache. “I’m sorry for everything. I—I never should have left. I never should have let you go.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, his voice breaking despite himself. “Just stay with me. Keep talking. I need to know you’re okay.”

The city’s shadows grew longer as Kento Nanami sprinted through the streets, his coat billowing behind him. The call still echoed in his ears, your trembling voice, fractured and desperate. His heart felt like it had been torn from his chest, dangling by a fragile thread as he raced against time. Two years of silence, of unspoken longing, and now your voice—broken and pleading—was the only thing tethering him to the present.

His breath came fast, the ache in his legs a distant memory compared to the pounding in his chest.

“(Y/N), where are you?” His voice was sharper now, teetering on the edge of panic.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, the sounds of labored breaths and distant crashes filling the line. “It’s dark, Kento. I don’t know where I am anymore. I’m so sorry—I thought I could handle it, I really did, but it’s too much.”

“I’m coming for you,” he said, his voice low and trembling with determination. “Stay on the line. Tell me what you see.”

Another crash sounded on your end, louder this time, followed by your muffled cry. “I don’t think I can make it, Kento. I’m so tired,” you whispered, each word cracking like glass against his ears.

“Don’t you dare give up,” he growled, his voice harsh but laced with fear. “Just hold on. I’m coming, I swear.”

The line went dead.

“No!” he shouted, the emptiness on the other end making his stomach plummet. His cursed energy flared unconsciously, his body moving on instinct as he followed the faint traces of cursed energy in the air. He didn’t have time to think, didn’t have the luxury to wonder what would happen if he was too late.

He wouldn’t let himself be too late.

The abandoned warehouse loomed ahead, a decaying monolith at the edge of the city. The cursed energy here was suffocating, a rancid, tangible thing that coiled around him like smoke. He pushed forward, his teeth gritted, his body tense with anticipation.

Inside, the dim light barely illuminated the chaos. Splintered wood and shattered glass littered the floor. The walls were smeared with dark, claw-like marks. And then, he saw you.

You were crumpled in the corner, your body trembling, your hands pressed weakly against the ground as if trying to summon cursed energy you no longer had. The faint glow of your nature manipulation flickered and died, and a monstrous, hulking curse loomed above you, its grotesque form pulsating with power.

“(Y/N)!” he yelled, his voice cracking as he rushed toward you.

Your head lifted weakly, your eyes dazed and unfocused. “Kento…” you murmured, your voice so soft it barely reached him.

Before he could reach you, the curse lunged. Its claws sliced through the air, forcing him to dive to the side. He rolled to his feet, his cursed energy crackling around him like lightning as he turned to face the creature.

“You don’t touch her,” he growled, his voice low and filled with fury.

The curse roared in response, its twisted form shifting as it charged at him. Kento met it head-on, his blade slicing through the air with precision honed over years of practice. Sparks flew as the curse’s claws met his weapon, the impact sending shockwaves through the room.

The fight was brutal, every strike a test of his endurance, every movement a desperate attempt to keep the curse away from you. His breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping down his face as he fought with everything he had.

But the curse was relentless. It struck with terrifying speed, its claws narrowly missing his chest as he dodged and countered. Blood splattered across the ground as one of its strikes grazed his arm, the pain sharp and immediate.

“Kento…” your voice, faint but urgent, pulled his focus.

He glanced back at you, his heart clenching at the sight of your pale, trembling form. The curse took advantage of his distraction, its massive arm swinging toward him. He barely managed to block the blow, the force of it sending him skidding across the floor.

For a moment, he faltered. The weight of the fight, the fear of losing you, pressed down on him like a crushing tide.

Then he saw you, your eyes locked on his, a flicker of trust and desperation in your gaze. And something inside him snapped.

With a roar, he surged forward, his cursed energy exploding around him in a blinding burst. He struck the curse with everything he had, his blade cutting through its grotesque form like a scythe through wheat. Blow after blow, he fought with a ferocity that surprised even himself.

Finally, with one last, devastating strike, the curse disintegrated into nothingness, its screams fading into the stillness of the warehouse.

Kento turned to you, his chest heaving, his body trembling from the effort. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly before finally resting gently on your shoulders.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice breaking. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Your eyes fluttered open, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You came,” you whispered, your voice so weak it was almost inaudible.

“Of course, I came,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’ll always come for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as you tried to speak. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have let you go. I—I thought I could do it on my own, but I can’t. I can’t do anything without you.”

His breath hitched, his chest tightening as the weight of your words settled over him. “Don’t you dare say that,” he said, his voice firm but filled with emotion. “You are the strongest person I know. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I’m here, (Y/N). I’m here.”

You reached out, your hand trembling as it brushed against his cheek. “I missed you,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Every day, I missed you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as tears slipped down his face. “I missed you too,” he said, his voice shaking. “More than you’ll ever know.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, the words he had kept locked away for years finally breaking free. “I’ve loved you for so long, (Y/N). Since we were kids, since the moment I realized how incredible you are. Every smile, every laugh, every moment we’ve spent together has been etched into my heart. And when you left…” His voice cracked, and he took another breath, his hands tightening on your shoulders. “When you left, it felt like I lost a part of myself. But I was too much of a coward to tell you.”

Your tears fell freely now, your gaze locked on his as you listened to every word.

“I don’t deserve you,” he continued, his voice soft but resolute. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the time we lost. I love you, (Y/N). I always have, and I always will.”

You let out a soft, choked laugh, your tears mixing with your smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve loved you all this time too, you fool. How could you not see it?”

Kento felt his heart stop at the words, like a dam breaking free of its restraints. The words he had kept buried for years, those painful truths that he never allowed himself to speak, were now spilling out, mingling with the soft echoes of your confession.

“You—” His voice wavered as he looked down at you, disbelief still playing in the edges of his mind. He never imagined this moment would come like this. But there you were, staring at him with eyes full of tenderness, the very same gaze that had haunted him for so long, and now it was his. All his. “You’ve loved me all this time?”

You nodded, your face crumpling slightly as you leaned into his touch, the warmth of it sending a wave of relief crashing over both of you. “Yes. I’ve loved you. I’ve been a fool for thinking I could do it without you. And when you left… when you turned away from the sorcery life… I thought maybe I had lost my chance to tell you how much you meant to me. I thought maybe we were better off apart.” You winced, the truth spilling out raw, as it always did when one was faced with their deepest fears. “But I realized I was wrong. So wrong. Life doesn’t make sense without you in it, Kento. I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not by my side.”

The words hung between you like a delicate thread, and with each passing second, that thread grew stronger, binding you together in a way that nothing else could. Kento’s fingers trembled as they brushed against your skin, pulling you closer in a desperate but tender motion. His hands were shaking, as though he were unsure if this was a dream, unsure if he had finally found his way back to you after years of wandering in the dark.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I don’t want to live in a world without you either,” he whispered, his breath shaky. “It’s like… like something was always missing. Every day, I felt it. But I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t find the right words. And when you left, I thought maybe I was better off alone. That maybe the life I’d chosen would be enough to bury what I felt.” His voice cracked, and his grip on you tightened. “But every time I thought about you, I realized I was wrong. I can’t live like that. I can’t be without you, not for a single second. You are my world, (Y/N). You’ve been my world for so long, I never knew how to tell you.”

Your hands found his, your fingers intertwining with his as you held on to each other like you might disappear if you didn’t. The air around you was thick with the weight of your confessions, with the unspoken years that had passed in silence, with the tension that had built between you like an unspoken promise. Now, those words you had both held back for so long were finally released, and it was like the entire universe had shifted.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. For not realizing it sooner. All this time, I thought I was doing what was right for us, for our futures. But I was wrong.” His breath caught in his throat. “I should’ve been with you, (Y/N). I should’ve been by your side.”

You shook your head, tears spilling from your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his. “No, Kento. No apologies. We were both lost, weren’t we? We were both afraid to speak the truth. Afraid of what it might mean. But now… now we have each other. We’ve found our way back.”

His eyes searched yours, wide with a mix of astonishment and hope. It was as if he were seeing you for the first time again, as if everything he had lived through, every hardship and every silent plea, had led him to this very moment. He felt your heartbeat beneath his hands, steady and strong, matching his own. And, for the first time in years, he felt a sense of peace. A sense of belonging that he hadn’t known since the day he’d let you slip away.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice quiet but certain, like a promise made in the depths of his soul. “I love you, (Y/N). More than I ever thought was possible. More than anything. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I’ve always wanted.”

Your heart swelled at the words, the depth of his confession breaking through every wall you had built. “I love you too, Kento,” you breathed, the weight of the years, the heartache, and the loneliness melting away. “I’ve always loved you.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the truth sink in, a soft exhale escaping him. When he opened them again, he saw you—his (Y/N), his everything, the only person who had ever truly understood him. The only person who had ever been able to bring the storm inside him to rest.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he promised softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Not again. I won’t let you leave me again.”

You smiled, your heart blooming in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Kento. Not this time. Not ever again.”

As the words echoed in the quiet space, time seemed to slow. All the uncertainty, all the regrets, all the lost years fell away. In that moment, nothing else existed but the two of you, standing in the ruins of everything that had tried to pull you apart. And as you stood there, hands clasped tightly together, hearts beating in sync, the curse of the past, the weight of the unspoken, was broken.

For once, it was simple. There were no barriers, no walls, no reasons to keep your distance. The only thing that mattered was the truth that had been there all along—the love between you, undeniable, eternal.

And as Kento pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go, he whispered once more, his voice full of wonder, of everything he had never dared to hope for.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I always will.”

And in your arms, you whispered back, your voice soft but strong. “I know, Kento. I know.”

————

age 23: a promise in the garden

The garden was alive in a way that felt almost magical, golden light streaming through the sprawling branches of the ancient oak tree. The air carried the faint hum of life—the rustle of leaves, the soft buzz of insects, and the scent of blooming flowers swaying gently in the breeze. It wasn’t the overgrown wilderness it had been when you were children, nor the empty, desolate space it had become during your years apart. Now, it was vibrant, flourishing—a living testament to patience, hope, and love.

Kento stood beneath the oak, his hands in his pockets, watching as you stepped into the clearing. Your footsteps slowed, then stopped entirely, your gaze sweeping across the scene. The flowers you’d planted together as children were still there, their colors more radiant than ever—wild yellows, purples, and whites scattered among neatly tended beds. The tree’s gnarled roots stretched like a crown beneath it, embracing the earth you’d dug into with small, determined hands so many years ago.

“Kento…” Your voice was soft, almost reverent. “How… how is this possible? It looks—”

“Alive,” he finished for you, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “It’s alive now.”

You turned to him, your expression full of wonder, though your brows knit slightly with confusion. “Did you… do this?”

“I did,” he admitted, stepping closer. His voice was steady, but there was an edge of something else beneath it—nervousness, anticipation, a depth of emotion he could barely contain. “It wasn’t easy. But for you… for us… it was worth it.”

You blinked at him, your eyes softening. “For us?” you repeated, your voice catching slightly on the words.

His hand reached for yours, enveloping it in a warmth that steadied you. He led you to the base of the oak tree, to the small weathered bench that had been there for as long as you could remember. The two of you had sat on that bench countless times—laughing, dreaming, arguing, and, in the quietest moments, simply existing side by side.

The weight of the years pressed down on you as you both sat. For a long moment, there was only silence, broken by the faint rustle of leaves overhead. Kento looked out at the garden, his gaze far away, as if he were sifting through the memories that lingered here.

“This place,” he began, his voice quiet but certain, “has always been ours, hasn’t it? Even when it was nothing but weeds and brambles, it felt like… like it belonged to us.”

You nodded, your fingers brushing over the edge of the bench. “It did,” you agreed. “Even back then, I could see it. The potential. I knew it could be beautiful if we just tried.”

He turned to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve always been able to see things I couldn’t. You looked at this place, at me, and you saw something worth saving.”

Your throat tightened at the quiet reverence in his voice. But before you could respond, he continued, his gaze dropping to the patch of flowers you’d planted so long ago.

“I think that’s when it started for me,” he said softly. “When I realized how extraordinary you were. How you could bring life to things that seemed beyond saving. I didn’t understand it back then. I just knew I wanted to be near you, to see the world the way you did.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with years of unspoken truths. You felt your heart ache with the weight of them, the quiet sincerity in his voice leaving you breathless.

“We’ve come a long way since then,” he continued, his voice dipping into something deeper, more vulnerable. “We grew up, faced things no one should ever have to face. Missions, losses, mistakes…” His voice faltered, his hand tightening slightly around yours. “And then I walked away. I thought it was the right thing to do, the practical thing. But leaving this life—leaving you—was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And the worst.”

You swallowed hard, the memory of those years apart rushing back like a tidal wave.

“When I heard your voice that day in the States,” he said, his tone quieter now, “when I thought I might lose you…” He broke off, his jaw clenching as he struggled to steady himself. “I realized then what I should’ve known all along. That you’re everything. That you’ve always been everything.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and you turned to him, your voice trembling. “Kento…”

But he wasn’t finished. He stood suddenly, his hand slipping from yours as he moved to the base of the oak tree. His fingers brushed over the bark, his touch reverent, as if he were grounding himself in its solidity.

“This tree has been through so much,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “Storms, winters, years of neglect. And yet, it’s still here. Still standing.” He turned to you, his eyes soft but resolute. “It’s like us, in a way. No matter what’s tried to tear us apart, we’ve always found our way back. We’ve always stood through it.”

He gestured to the flowers at the tree’s base, their vibrant colors glowing in the golden light. “And these… they’re proof that even the smallest acts of love can grow into something lasting. Something beautiful.”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer, pulling something from his pocket. The small velvet box in his hand seemed to glow in the fading sunlight, the sight of it sending a wave of emotion crashing over you.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I know our lives will never be simple. There will be battles we can’t avoid, losses we’ll have to endure. But I also know this—whatever time I have, I want to spend it with you. I want to stand by your side, to face everything together.”

He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’ve given me so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Your patience, your kindness, your belief in me… I don’t deserve any of it, but I promise you, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of it.”

He opened the box, revealing a ring that was simple yet radiant, its design a quiet reflection of everything he felt.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I should’ve said it years ago, when we were kids planting flowers in the dirt. I should’ve said it every day since. But I’m saying it now, and I mean it with everything I am—I love you, (Y/N). I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and I’ll keep loving you for as long as I have.”

Tears streamed down your face as he held the ring out to you, his hand steady despite the weight of the moment. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The garden, the oak tree, the flowers—all of it seemed to lean in, waiting for your answer. Finally, you nodded, your voice breaking as you whispered, “Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

Relief flooded his face, and he slid the ring onto your finger with care. When he stood, you threw your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could.

“I love you,” you murmured against his shoulder, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotion. “I’ve always loved you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “And I’ll love you for the rest of my life. However long that may be.”

The words hung between you, bittersweet and beautiful, a quiet acknowledgment of the dangers that still lay ahead. But in that moment, beneath the oak tree and surrounded by the garden you’d built together, the future felt distant, almost irrelevant.

For now, there was only this: two hearts, battered but unbroken, promising to face whatever came next—together.

————

age 24: yes now and forever

The morning was one of hushed anticipation, as if the world itself held its breath for the event to come. Soft rays of golden sunlight streamed through the windows of the venue, casting dappled patterns across the stone floor. It wasn’t an opulent cathedral or a grand ballroom; it was a small, ivy-covered chapel nestled in the countryside, its charm lying in its quiet beauty. The ancient oak tree they had planted so many years ago stood just outside, its branches adorned with ribbons and lanterns. Around its base, wildflowers bloomed—a living testament to her magic, their love, and the journey that had led them here.

Inside, chaos brewed as friends bustled to prepare for the ceremony.

“Where’s Nanami?!” Gojo shouted from the chapel hallway, holding up a pair of sunglasses like they were a crucial piece of the wedding puzzle. “I need to give him my trademark advice before he ruins his life—I mean, begins his new life!”

Shoko rolled her eyes, perched on the edge of a pew, sipping champagne from a flask. “The only advice you’re giving is how to be insufferable for eternity. Leave him alone, Gojo.”

Suguru leaned against a wall, smirking. “Pretty sure he’s too busy freaking out to listen to you. My money’s on him crying when she walks down the aisle.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Shoko chimed in. “Man’s a softie. He’s gonna lose it the second he sees her.”

“You’re all underestimating me,” Kento grumbled as he entered, adjusting the cufflinks on his impeccably tailored gray suit. The tie was perfect, the pocket square precisely folded, but the man himself looked like he was barely keeping it together.

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “You’re sweating.”

“I am not.”

Gojo slapped him on the back with an exaggerated laugh. “Nanamin, it’s okay! I cry every time I look in the mirror. Today, it’s your turn.”

Kento glared at him but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he glanced toward the closed doors at the far end of the chapel, beyond which she was preparing. His stomach churned. He hadn’t even seen her yet, but the weight of the day—the promises they were about to make—was overwhelming.

In the bridal room, (Y/N) was surrounded by her closest friends, who busied themselves with last-minute touches to her gown and hair. The dress was stunning in its simplicity—white as freshly fallen snow, with vines and blossoms embroidered into the bodice and train. The design was an homage to her abilities, subtle yet unmistakable. Her veil was a delicate gossamer, pinned in place over a braid adorned with tiny flowers she had grown herself.

“Relax, (Y/N),” Shoko said, expertly applying the final stroke of eyeliner. “You’ve fought grade-one curses. You can handle saying ‘I do.’”

“I’m not nervous about that,” she murmured, her voice soft but tight with emotion. “I’m nervous because… this feels like a dream. What if it’s too perfect?”

“Perfect?” Gojo poked his head into the room uninvited, earning a chorus of groans. “Nanami’s in the other room, looking like he’s about to hurl. Trust me, it’s not perfect yet. You will be.”

Shoko shoved him out, rolling her eyes. “Ignore him. You’re gorgeous, and this day will be perfect because it’s yours.”

(Y/N) smiled, though her hands trembled as she adjusted the lace on her dress. “Thank you, all of you.” She looked at herself in the mirror one last time, inhaling deeply. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

The chapel doors opened, and the entire room turned to look at her. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, but Kento didn’t notice anyone else.

His breath caught the moment he saw her. His usually composed demeanor crumbled as tears welled in his eyes. She looked like a dream—no, she looked like the most tangible, real thing he had ever known, a manifestation of light and love walking toward him.

“Holy crap,” Suguru whispered from his side.

Gojo nudged him. “Called it.”

Kento’s lips parted, his eyes glistening, but no words came. He didn’t even realize the tears slipping down his cheeks until Suguru handed him a handkerchief.

(Y/N) caught his gaze and smiled, her own eyes misty. Step by step, she came closer, and with every step, Kento felt his heart swell, nearly breaking with every heartbeat. The world fell away, and there was only her—only the woman he had loved for so long, in every quiet moment and in every tumultuous battle.

When she reached the altar, her eyes never left his. Kento didn’t know if he could keep standing, his knees weak as if they might give out at any moment. But somehow, he stayed rooted, his hand trembling as he held out his palm for hers. She took it with a smile so tender it felt like the beginning of everything.

The officiant’s voice barely registered in Kento’s ears as he stared at her, his pulse racing. He couldn’t believe this moment was real. It felt like a dream he had never dared to hope would come true.

When it was time for the vows, the silence hung heavily between them, the air thick with meaning.

(Y/N) smiled softly, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes never leaving Kento’s. She took a deep breath, her voice quivering with emotion but steady in its resolve.

“Kento,” she began, her voice like a prayer, “for years, I have lived a life filled with chaos and strife, yet you have always been my constant. You’ve been the calm in every storm, the one person I’ve trusted with my heart, with my fears, and with all of me. You’ve shown me love in ways I didn’t think were possible. And in return, I vow to spend every day of my life showing you the same love, the same support, and the same devotion. You have given me your heart, and now, I give you mine. No matter what the future brings, I am yours, always.”

Kento’s eyes glistened, and his hands tightened around hers, his throat tight with emotion. He had never expected this, never expected to be here, with her, in this sacred space that seemed to transcend time itself.

When it was his turn, he almost couldn’t speak. His voice wavered as he began, his eyes never leaving hers.

“(Y/N), for as long as I can remember, I’ve been afraid. Afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of loving too deeply, afraid of losing the one person who means everything to me. And yet, here you are, standing before me, and I know—I know—that I was wrong to be afraid. You are my heart, my breath, the reason I push forward even when everything seems dark. I’ve been given so many chances to tell you this, to let you know just how deeply I care, and I’ve always hesitated, always been too afraid to admit what was right in front of me. But I’m not afraid anymore. I stand before you today, telling you with every ounce of my being, that I love you. I will love you every day for the rest of my life, no matter what comes our way. And I will be here, with you, beside you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

The room was silent, holding its collective breath, as Kento’s words settled into the air. His tears fell freely now, a testament to the years of unspoken emotions, to the weight of all the times he had longed for this moment but could never quite bring himself to claim. But now, here he was, and he would never take it for granted again.

And then, as the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Kento leaned down, his hands cradling her face with such reverence that it made her heart ache. When their lips finally met, it wasn’t a simple kiss; it was a promise, a culmination of everything they had endured, everything they had fought for, and everything they would become together.

The reception that followed was a whirlwind of love and laughter, a celebration so full of joy that it felt like time had slowed, as though the universe had conspired to make this one day eternal.

The hall was alive with music, its golden chandeliers casting warm light over the gathering of family and friends. Gojo, as expected, was the life of the party, making grand speeches and trying to get everyone to join him in embarrassing dance routines.

“Come on, Nanamin!” Gojo shouted over the music, dragging Kento onto the dance floor. “You’re married now! You’ve got to dance, or I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

“Not even if I beg?” Kento deadpanned.

“Nope!” Gojo grinned mischievously. “Now twirl your wife, or I’ll make a speech about how amazing your moves are.”

(Y/N) laughed, slipping her hand into Kento’s and pulling him toward the center of the dance floor. The moment they began to move together, the world seemed to fall away once more, their laughter blending with the music as they swirled beneath the shimmering lights.

Suguru, who was never one to shy away from a joke, stood nearby, an amused smirk on his lips as he clinked his glass to get their attention. “Now that’s a love story, folks. What I want to know is, who’s going to teach me to dance like that?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “There’s no hope for you, Suguru. You’re all posture and no rhythm.”

“Hey, I’m all rhythm,” Suguru retorted, eyes glinting with challenge. “I just need the right partner to prove it.”

Laughter erupted around them, the joy of the evening spilling over into every corner of the room. But even in the midst of the lighthearted chaos, there was a quiet serenity between Kento and (Y/N). They weren’t just married—they were finally living the dream they had once thought was too far out of reach.

The night went on, each moment becoming a memory etched in their hearts, a story they would tell their children one day. As the last song played and the guests began to filter out, Kento and (Y/N) stood together beneath the oak tree, bathed in the soft light of the moon.

“I never thought we’d get here,” (Y/N) said softly, her hand slipping into his. “I used to wonder if it was all a dream.”

“It’s not a dream,” Kento replied, his voice hushed but sure. “It’s real. And I’m here, with you, forever.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her heart full, her body tired but content. She had everything she had ever wanted. And in this moment, surrounded by love and laughter and the promise of a future together, she knew that the journey was just beginning.

And as they stood there, in the quiet of the night, the future stretched before them, a beautiful, endless road, paved with love, laughter, and every step they would take together, side by side in the beautiful life they had built together.

————

age 26: a slice of peace

It had been a long day—too long, if you asked Kento—but when he stepped through the door of their cozy home, the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little. The soft glow of the living room lights, the aroma of something simmering in the kitchen—it was everything he needed after a day spent surrounded by curses, chaos, and endless meetings.

Kento hung his jacket on the back of a chair, loosening his tie as he crossed the threshold. He was met with a familiar sight: (Y/N) standing at the stove, her back to him, humming softly to herself as she stirred something in a pot. The sound of her voice—however quiet—was like a melody to his ears, a reminder that after every battle, there was peace. And peace, it seemed, was always found with her.

“You’re late,” she said, her tone playful but somehow still teasing, even though she didn’t turn to face him.

“Am I?” Kento raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “Sorry. I had to deal with a particularly stubborn curse today. It didn’t want to die—or follow orders.”

She laughed softly, turning to glance over her shoulder. “I don’t blame it,” she said with a wink. “If I had to face you all day, I’d want a break too.”

Kento’s lips twitched into a smile. He could never resist her teasing. It made everything feel light, like they were in their own little world—a world far removed from the heavy responsibility of being sorcerers. “Are you cooking again?” he asked, knowing full well she was. (Y/N) was always the one who made their meals, though it had started as a joint effort. Over time, she’d made it clear that she enjoyed it more than he did, and he, in turn, had enjoyed the results.

“Obviously,” she replied, her voice full of playful confidence. “I figured since you’re so great at taking down curses, I should balance things out by feeding you.”

He chuckled as he made his way into the kitchen, catching the faint scent of garlic and herbs in the air. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs balancing. You’re the one who’s been feeding me perfectly every night, making me gain at least five pounds from your cooking.”

“Who’s counting?” she teased, waving her hand dismissively. “At least you’re not the one who accidentally set off the fire alarm three days ago.”

“That was one time,” he protested with mock indignation, though he knew she was right. (Y/N) had made a batch of cookies, and they had almost set the kitchen ablaze because she’d gotten distracted by the latest mystery novel she was reading. “Just a little smoke. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about? Kento, I think the neighbors thought we were hosting a fire drill.”

“I think they were just worried the smoke was coming from the neighbor’s apartment, not ours,” he teased, stepping behind her to take a look at whatever she was cooking. “What’s for dinner, then?”

“Beef stew,” she said with a smile. “With extra carrots—since I know you like them so much.”

He bent down to kiss her cheek, his lips brushing her skin lightly. “I’ll take it. Just don’t make me go for seconds… I might need to squeeze into my suit for that charity gala tomorrow.”

She gave him a mischievous look. “Are you trying to tell me I’ve been feeding you too much?”

“Maybe…” Kento smirked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “But I’m not complaining. In fact, if it weren’t for your food, I’m pretty sure I’d be too thin from all those sleepless nights we’ve had recently.”

(Y/N) shook her head fondly, her hair catching the light as she moved. “You’re impossible,” she said softly, but there was warmth in her voice. “You’re impossible and perfect, and you know it.”

A silence stretched between them, comfortable and steady, like the calm before the storm. Kento watched her for a long moment, his gaze softening. There was something about the way she moved, so graceful, so at peace in their home, that made everything in him feel steady. This was their life now—quiet moments like these, after the chaos of work, before the next battle, before the storm.

She glanced back at him, catching the look in his eyes. “You’re staring at me again,” she said, raising an eyebrow, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“I can’t help it,” Kento replied, pushing off the counter to stand next to her. “You look beautiful, even when you’re just cooking dinner.” His voice was quiet, and there was an edge to it, the kind that only came when he was being serious, when he didn’t try to hide how much he loved her.

She turned to face him fully now, a slight blush coloring her cheeks, but there was something else in her eyes—something more intense, more profound. “Stop making me blush,” she said, trying to play it off, but her voice was softer than usual, more vulnerable. “You know how much I love you too, right?”

Kento didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against hers. The moment felt eternal, like the world was paused around them, just for a second. There was no curse, no mission, no threat hanging over them—just the simple, steady rhythm of their breathing and the warmth of their connection.

“You make everything feel like it’s worth it,” Kento said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was rougher than usual, filled with emotion. “The world is chaos, but I’d face it all over again—if it meant getting to come home to you. You… make this life worth it.”

She smiled at him then, the corners of her lips curling up into a soft, knowing grin. “You’re sappy sometimes, you know that?”

“Only for you,” Kento teased back, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “And only because I’ve got you figured out. You make me want to be better… just by being you.”

(Y/N) laughed softly, her head tilting back in that way that always made his heart swell. “And you make me want to stop burning things… just by being you.”

Kento grinned and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. She melted into him, her warmth seeping into his bones, as they swayed together to an unspoken rhythm that only they understood. This was life now—peace after the storm, home after the chaos, simplicity in the face of all the complexities of their world.

After a few moments of silent contentment, (Y/N) broke the calm with a mischievous grin. “So… when are you going to admit that you’re hopelessly in love with me?”

Kento chuckled and placed a soft kiss on her lips, his hands resting at the small of her back. “You already know the answer to that.”

She tilted her head in mock curiosity. “Oh? And what’s the answer?”

He smiled, his eyes full of affection and tenderness, his voice low and sincere. “I’m madly, irrevocably, and completely in love with you. But you already knew that.”

Her lips twitched with the tease of another smile, and she leaned in for a kiss, letting it linger just a moment longer than usual. “Well, I guess I’ll have to keep you around, then.”

“Oh, I plan on staying,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And I’m never leaving.”

For once, they didn’t have to fight curses or fear the world beyond their door. The peace, the love they’d cultivated, was enough. They were enough. And in this small kitchen, with flour in their hair, the faintest scent of burnt cookies still lingering in the air, everything was as it should be. Perfect in its imperfection.

They spent the rest of the evening together, laughter and love filling the air—before the next mission, before the next challenge. For now, they had each other, and that was everything.

————

age 27: what if?

The air had grown heavier with each passing day. The world of jujutsu sorcerers, for so long a constant whirlwind of curses, danger, and conflict, had finally reached a new precipice—a moment where the known threats no longer made sense. As they all gathered at the table in the heart of the Jujutsu High’s war room, it felt as if something far darker, far deeper, had begun to stir once more.

Kento Nanami stood at the head of the table, his usual calm demeanor softened only by the tension in the air. His fingers drummed idly, a rhythmic, almost involuntary gesture as he pondered their situation. He glanced around at the others, each of them readying themselves for a battle they hadn’t been prepared for.

For months, rumors had spread. Whispers in the underground world of jujutsu had suggested something sinister was in the making. But even those who had the most insight into the curse-riddled world hadn’t anticipated the return of Suguru Geto—or, rather, what Suguru Geto had become.

The once-esteemed ally had become a dark force, someone who sought to tear down everything they had built. His alliance with Mahito, the twisted curse that had wreaked havoc on their lives, had sealed their fate. The two were no longer isolated threats—they were a unified front, hell-bent on reshaping the world.

Kento wasn’t alone in his thoughts. (Y/N) sat beside him, her posture upright and composed, yet her eyes betrayed the storm brewing in her chest. There was no denying the severity of the situation. They had fought together for so long, weathered every storm, but this felt different. This wasn’t just a fight for survival; this was a fight for their very way of life.

A tense silence settled over the room as the sorcerers gathered, all awaiting Gojo’s entrance. When he finally did arrive, it wasn’t with his usual exuberance—his confident smile was absent, replaced by a heavy seriousness that sent a ripple of unease through the group.

“Alright,” Gojo began, his voice steady but tinged with an edge of concern. “I know we’ve all been trying to prepare for this day. Suguru’s been on the move. Mahito’s been gathering power. And now they’ve come together in a way none of us expected.”

The room fell even quieter, if possible. Kento’s gaze never wavered, his focus sharp on Gojo as his former teacher continued, detailing the threat they now faced.

“What we’re looking at now isn’t just another curse,” Gojo said, his voice dropping a notch, becoming more serious. “Suguru’s intentions are clear now. He wants to reshape the world—our world. But this time, he’s not working alone. Mahito’s power has evolved. He’s no longer just a dangerous, unpredictable force; he’s something else entirely.”

(Y/N)’s grip tightened around her coffee cup, the usual quiet fire in her eyes flickering as the gravity of the situation set in. Kento reached over and gave her hand a subtle squeeze, his own thoughts swirling with dark uncertainty. They’d fought so many battles together, faced impossible odds, but this? This was different. Suguru Geto had always been a threat, but now, he was a living nightmare.

“Mahito’s power—his manipulation of souls—has become much more sophisticated,” (Y/N) spoke up, her voice calm but heavy with the weight of the truth. “He’s learned how to twist souls even more efficiently, and Suguru… Suguru has learned how to weaponize that power for himself.”

Kento felt a deep chill settle into his chest. Mahito’s ability to reshape souls was already something that they had struggled to combat, but hearing that he had grown even stronger made Kento question if they were truly prepared for the coming fight. His mind replayed the last battle they had fought against Mahito, how terrifying and grotesque his curse had been then. The thought of facing him now, knowing his abilities had only grown, sent a shiver down his spine.

“The problem isn’t just their power. It’s their coordination,” Gojo added, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Suguru and Mahito are working together in ways we haven’t anticipated. If they’re allowed to continue unchecked, they’ll tear through the sorcerers—and worse, they’ll start targeting civilians.”

Kento’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t just about fighting curses; it was about defending everything they had worked for. The lives of innocents, the future of Jujutsu High, and the very stability of their world were at stake. But even with all their power, even with their best strategies, the reality was becoming clearer: Suguru and Mahito were far more than anyone had prepared for.

“They’ve taken steps to turn the tide in their favor,” Kento muttered, his mind churning as he thought of their next move. “But we can’t let them gain any more ground.”

“Agreed,” (Y/N) said, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Suguru and Mahito think they have control over the cursed energy—but we can’t allow that to happen. If they manage to manipulate the energy the way they want to, it will be chaos.”

Gojo stood up straighter, his eyes flashing with determination. “We’ll hit them before they can make that move. But we need everyone on this mission. We need to be smarter than we’ve ever been before.”

Kento felt his pulse quicken. This wasn’t just another cursed spirit to hunt. This wasn’t an ordinary mission. This was a war.

“What’s our game plan?” Kento asked, trying to stay focused amidst the rising tension.

“We need to break their alliance. That’s the key,” Gojo explained, his mind working quickly. “We split them up. Isolate them. Mahito thrives on chaos, and Suguru on control. If we separate them, they’re not as strong. But we have to act fast.”

(Y/N)’s gaze sharpened, and Kento could see the determination in her eyes. She was ready, just as he was. They had faced impossible odds before, but this? This felt different. This felt personal.

Kento had never doubted their ability to win, but this time, there was an eerie feeling in the pit of his stomach. Suguru and Mahito weren’t just enemies—they were harbingers of a new, terrifying age of curses. And this time, they were ready to break everything down.

As the meeting adjourned, Kento stood, his mind racing through strategies, his heart thundering in his chest. (Y/N) caught his eye, and the unspoken bond between them flared with intensity. They were in this together. They always had been. And though the threat before them was greater than anything they had encountered, Kento knew, in the quiet recesses of his heart, that they could face it.

But even as his thoughts aligned with hers, the bitter truth began to creep in. They were staring at a war, and wars often had no victor.

The day of the battle was swiftly approaching, and as the sorcerers gathered their forces, the weight of the situation settled over them all like a thick fog. Suguru Geto and Mahito were no longer the isolated threats they once were. They were a force, united in their plan to reshape the world of jujutsu sorcery, and the heroes that stood against them had to act quickly.

Kento and (Y/N) stood side by side, preparing for the fight of their lives, knowing full well that their victory might come at an unimaginable cost. When they arrived home, the tension was almost a living thing.

The tension that hung in the air as Kento Nanami and (Y/N) prepared for their battle felt suffocating. Every passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity. They had fought together countless times, against curses of all kinds, but this… this was different. This was a battle against the very fabric of the world they had sworn to protect. This was a war against the forces of destruction that threatened to tear apart everything they knew and loved.

They stood in the quiet of their shared space, the soft hum of the lights and the distant sound of voices in the other rooms of the compound the only things breaking the silence between them. The night was quiet, too quiet, as if the entire world was holding its breath. It was in moments like these, when the weight of what they were about to face hung over them like a stormcloud, that the unsaid things began to creep to the surface.

Kento turned to (Y/N), his usually composed demeanor flickering with a hint of something deeper. Something unspoken.

“What if we don’t make it out of this?” he asked, his voice low but clear. The words hung in the air, heavier than any curse they had faced before.

It wasn’t like Kento to voice his doubts. He had always been the steady one, the grounded one, the one who gave others strength when they needed it most. But this was different. The weight of the situation had begun to erode the walls he had so carefully built around his heart. He needed to know—needed to understand—if this was it. If this was the end of everything.

(Y/N) looked at him, her gaze intense, searching, as if she, too, could feel the tremor of uncertainty that was quietly shaking the foundations of their resolve. The world outside was preparing for battle, but in this room, in the space they had created together, it was just the two of them and the unspoken fear they each carried.

She took a deep breath and stepped closer, her fingers brushing against his. “What if we don’t? What if this is the last time we see each other?” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly. “What if this is the end of everything we’ve built?”

Kento’s heart clenched at the sound of her words. He had never been one to indulge in what-ifs. He had always focused on the mission, always believed in the future they could create if they fought hard enough. But the reality of what they were facing now was different. There were too many unknowns, too many variables they couldn’t control. Too many things that could go wrong. And the possibility of losing (Y/N)—the woman who had become his anchor, his everything—was a thought too painful to bear.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “About what happens if we don’t make it through? About the things we’ve left unsaid? The things we might never have the chance to say?”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable as she let his words settle. She had always been strong, always able to keep her emotions in check, but in this moment, with the reality of the threat they faced so close, the façade slipped just enough for Kento to see the vulnerability she rarely allowed to show.

“I think about it every day,” she admitted softly, her gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. “I think about the things we could have said… the things we should have said. But I also think about the things we’ve done, the life we’ve built. What if we never get the chance to… to have more time? What if this is the last memory we make together?”

Kento’s breath caught in his throat. Her words echoed in his mind, her quiet vulnerability striking him to his core. He had always been so certain, so steadfast in his resolve to protect those he loved. But now, in the face of this unknown, he couldn’t escape the nagging doubt that perhaps he hadn’t done enough. Perhaps he hadn’t said enough. Perhaps they hadn’t had enough time.

“(Y/N), I—” Kento started, but the words faltered on his tongue. What could he say? How could he express everything he had kept buried for so long? He had always been so careful, so calculated with his feelings, but this… this was different. This wasn’t a mission. This was his heart on the line.

Her hand squeezed his gently, the touch grounding him. “Kento, we don’t know what the future holds. We never have. But we’ve always fought together. And no matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know…” She paused, her eyes locking with his, her voice steady but filled with an emotion that left him breathless. “I don’t regret a single moment of this. Of us.”

The sincerity in her voice—so raw, so full of love—made Kento’s heart ache with a longing he had tried to ignore for so long. He had always held back, always buried his emotions behind duty and responsibility. But with (Y/N), he had learned to open up, to trust, to be vulnerable. And now, in this moment of uncertainty, all he wanted was to hold on to that trust, to hold on to her.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed, his voice breaking with the weight of the truth. “I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I’ve spent so much of my life thinking I had to protect you, thinking I had to keep you safe, but I—” He stopped, unsure of how to continue, unsure of how to express the depth of his feelings.

(Y/N) reached up, her fingers brushing the side of his face, her touch gentle and comforting. “Kento, I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, we’ve been through too much to let this be the end.”

A silence hung between them, the unspoken promise in her words sinking deep into his heart. They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. They didn’t know if they would survive the coming battle, if they would make it through the storm that was about to crash down on them. But in that moment, standing together in the quiet of their shared space, they both understood one thing: they had each other.

And that, in the face of everything that lay ahead, was enough.

Kento drew her into his arms, holding her tightly, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he tried to steady his racing heart. He knew the coming battle would be unlike anything they had ever faced, but for now, in this moment of calm before the storm, he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of her embrace.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” Kento whispered against her hair, his voice filled with a quiet resolve. “But I know that I can’t face it without you. I’ve never needed anyone more than I need you.”

(Y/N) smiled, a soft, knowing smile that spoke of years of shared battles, of late-night talks, of love that had grown so strong it had become the very foundation of their existence. “And you never will,” she replied, her voice filled with the same determination. “We’re in this together. Always.”

The silence between them felt sacred, a moment of peace before the world would demand everything from them. As the weight of the war loomed large on the horizon, Kento and (Y/N) allowed themselves this brief respite. Because no matter what came next, they knew that as long as they had each other, they could face anything.

And perhaps, that was all they really needed.

As the night stretched on, the sorcerers prepared for the battles that lay ahead. But for now, Kento and (Y/N) allowed themselves one last moment of peace—a quiet conversation, a soft kiss, and the certainty that no matter what happened, they would face it side by side.

————

age 28: the final stand

The streets of Shibuya were eerily silent under the bloodshot sky, the moon half-hidden by the suffocating clouds that rolled over the city like an endless tide. Shattered glass crunched beneath the soles of boots. The usual hum of city life had been swallowed whole, replaced only by the distant echoes of battle—snarls, curses, and the constant reverberating thrum of cursed energy. The city had fallen into chaos.

Kento Nanami’s breath came in uneven gasps as he pressed forward, his eyes flickering over the chaos. The air was thick with cursed energy, the dark, corrosive force tangling with the very fibers of the world around him. His fingers gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, knuckles white, his every move sharp and precise. And beside him—always beside him—was (Y/N), her dark eyes gleaming with determination, her hands weaving through the air, bending the earth and the wind to her will.

It was a beautiful thing, the way she controlled nature. How the trees seemed to bow to her, how vines erupted from the cracked ground like the earth itself was alive—alive with her power. She was a force of nature, unstoppable and fierce. The thought of her had always kept him going, in every mission, every battle. And in this one? In this hellish night? She was his anchor. His world.

And yet, as the fighting wore on, he saw it—saw the cracks in her resolve, the way her shoulders hunched a little lower with each strike, each breath growing more labored than the last. Her power, magnificent as it was, came at a cost. The earth, it seemed, was exhausted as well.

“Don’t push yourself,” Kento’s voice was gruff, a hint of panic creeping in as he shot a glance over his shoulder, meeting her eyes for only a moment before turning back to the front lines. “We need to pull back.”

But she was already casting again, her arms sweeping the air as the ground cracked open beneath her feet, plants rising to form barriers, blades of grass becoming whips, branches of trees turning into spears of unyielding nature.

“We can’t stop now,” she said, breathless but unyielding. “We have to end this. For everyone.”

Her voice trembled as she spoke, but her eyes remained firm. They locked for a moment, as if sharing a silent vow: they would make it through. They had to.

But the world had other plans. The moment she cast her final spell—a wall of twisting, gnarled branches and vines—there was a shift. A cold gust swept through the air, and Kento’s heart skipped a beat. The trees… they weren���t just twisting. They were bending, breaking, and snapping in a violent, unnatural rhythm. Her energy was draining faster than he could keep up with.

Behind them, a curse—a towering abomination of shifting shadows and jagged, broken limbs—crept from the blackened streets.

“Y/N!” Kento’s voice broke as he turned to face her, a shiver of dread crawling up his spine.

Her body trembled with the strain, but she pressed forward, bringing the earth beneath her to life with the last of her strength. And then the creature charged, its massive clawed hands outstretched.

“NO!” Kento screamed, rushing to intercept, but it was too late.

The creature was upon them in an instant, its claws tearing into the earth, and in a blur of motion, it swept her off her feet. Her scream echoed through the air, a piercing, gut-wrenching sound, as the curse’s claws raked across her side. Blood stained the earth, and Kento’s heart shattered in that instant.

“(Y/N)!” His voice was raw, hoarse, barely a whisper as he lunged toward her, his sword raised to strike. But the curse was faster, its claws digging deeper into her flesh as it pinned her to the ground.

The earth she had so desperately controlled began to falter, the vines curling up as if recoiling from the monstrous presence. Her body convulsed, the energy she had fought so hard to control draining from her with each tortured breath.

Kento could feel his chest tighten, as if something inside him was slowly being crushed. Time slowed in that moment—her blood, so dark against the dirt, her body so small and fragile in the creature’s grasp.

She met his eyes, her lips curling into a pained but fond smile. “I love you,” she whispered, barely audible through the suffocating storm around them.

“Don’t—” he began, but he never finished. The monster’s claws descended again, sharper, faster, and with an inhuman screech, it pierced her body.

The world seemed to collapse around him.

Her scream was silenced by the gurgling, choking sound that escaped her lips as her body was impaled. She was still smiling, through the agony, her eyes locked with his, even as the life slowly drained from her.

“No… please… no…” His voice cracked as he dropped to his knees, reaching out toward her. But he couldn’t get close enough.

Her hand reached for him, shaking, but the weight of the curse was too much. The earth she had commanded refused to rise, her power fading faster than she could fight it. And in the final moment, she was gone.

Her body went limp, her eyes closing as the curse ripped her from him.

Kento’s scream tore through the air, raw and guttural, as he watched her slip away.

It felt like his soul had shattered, but he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t let her go, even as her body was ripped to pieces before him.

And then, before he could move, before he could even gather his bearings, a cold presence loomed behind him.

Mahito. Jugo.

The two curses stood before him, their faces twisted with cruel delight.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Mahito’s voice was smooth, mocking, as if everything about this moment was some twisted joke.

Kento gritted his teeth, his hands shaking as he reached for his sword. He couldn’t let them win. Not after all this. Not after her.

But he knew he was too late.

Mahito’s cursed energy wrapped around him, tightening like a vice, while Jugo’s immense power loomed behind.

“You should have stayed out of this, Nanami,” Jugo said with a low growl, before lunging at him with terrifying speed.

The fight was brutal.

Kento’s sword clashed with Jugo’s fist in a flurry of sparks and violence, but his body was already worn down, his mind shattered from the loss of (Y/N). His strikes were slow, weak, and he knew—he knew—he wouldn’t survive this.

Mahito stood back, watching with that sickening, twisted grin as Kento fought, desperately, to stay alive.

But the world had abandoned him.

Jugo’s next strike hit Kento square in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. Blood stained his lips, but even as he struggled to breathe, the pain, the agony, the heartache—it all felt so familiar. She was gone.

And just like that, in that moment of anguish, Mahito moved in for the kill. His fingers brushed against Kento’s forehead, and Kento felt the chilling touch of the curse wrap around his soul.

In that moment, Kento realized what he had been fighting for, what he had always fought for. It had never been just survival. It had always been for her. And now, as the world faded, as the pain and the blood mixed together, all he could think of was the life he never got to share with her.

Mahito’s laughter echoed in his ears as he faded into darkness. His body went limp, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he let go.

And then there was only silence.

As Kento’s body lay still on the cold, unforgiving ground, his thoughts were scattered. They drifted to her—the only thing that mattered now, the only one who had ever mattered.

Her face, her smile, her laugh… All the memories that had once been so vivid now felt like they were slipping away, like smoke dissipating into the night air. His heart, which had once beaten for her, now lay heavy and silent within his chest. The world he had fought so desperately to protect, the mission he had once lived for—none of it mattered. Not without her.

The weight of that truth was crushing, but at the same time, there was a strange peace in it. He had failed. But in the end, he had given everything for her.

His consciousness began to fade as the cursed energy of Mahito wrapped around him like a shroud. The darkness crept in, inch by inch, until there was nothing but an emptiness he could no longer fight. The sounds of battle—the distant screams of curses, the clash of swords—dissolved, becoming a faint hum. And just as the light of the world blinked out before his eyes, one single image remained.

Her face. Her eyes.

He saw her, not broken or bleeding as she had been when he last laid eyes on her, but alive. Smiling, her hand reaching for his as she always did, her warmth, her essence filling his soul.

For a moment, he felt a flicker of something—something gentle, something soft—as though her spirit had reached out to him. She had been the light that guided him, the anchor in the storm, and in the end, he had followed her, reaching out for her even in death.

And then, as the world finally went black, Kento Nanami’s last thought was simple, pure, and filled with longing:

I’m coming for you, Y/N. Wait for me.

The cold night air stretched on, silent now, save for the flickering embers of the chaos that had consumed Shibuya. The curses were no more, their twisted forms scattered like broken toys across the battlefield. The city, in its death throes, was still. The streets that had once been so full of life were now empty. A hushed, sorrowful calm had fallen over it, and the earth mourned its bender and her lover.

————

an eternal love

Kento’s first breath in the afterlife wasn’t a breath at all. It was something far deeper, something that swirled in the very essence of his being, as though his soul had been waiting for this moment all along.

At first, everything was nothing. Blank, vast, and weightless. The kind of silence that presses into your ears until your thoughts blur. But then, a glimmer.

A soft light appeared on the horizon—a soft, golden glow, like the first rays of dawn kissing the earth after a long, dark night. His feet, though weightless, moved instinctively toward it. There was no pain. No burden. No scars. Only warmth and the promise of something that had always been missing.

As he stepped forward, his heart—still tethered by the love he had once known—began to beat again. He felt it as a quiet thrum within his chest, a comforting pulse that reassured him everything would be okay. That everything already was.

And then, as the light grew clearer, he saw her.

Y/N.

She stood there, bathed in soft gold, the light wrapping around her like a halo, but not in a way that seemed distant or unreachable. She was tangible. Real. Breathing in the same rhythm as him, as though they’d never been apart.

Her hair, once torn and tangled from battles, now flowed freely in a gentle breeze, like a field of flowers dancing in spring. Her eyes—those beautiful eyes that had always seen him—were more radiant than he had ever imagined. She stood tall and strong, no longer a broken soul but a piece of the very heavens themselves.

His breath caught in his throat, even here. The very sight of her, her existence—this moment—felt like a dream he had fought so long for. But it was real.

Her eyes met his, and for a heartbeat, time paused.

She smiled—oh, how she smiled, and it was a smile that reached deep inside him, threading its way through the soul he thought he’d lost. It was the kind of smile that, in its simplicity, made everything right again. It said everything they had never said, everything they never needed to.

She stepped toward him, her pace slow, deliberate, each movement graceful as if the space between them could never be fast enough. He didn’t wait. He moved toward her as well, almost desperate to close the distance, but this time—this time, he wasn’t afraid.

When their hands touched, it was as though the entire world breathed in at once. Their fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the universe. Her skin was as warm as it had always been, but there was a lightness in it now—a peace that hadn’t existed before. She wasn’t a warrior anymore. She wasn’t the person who had been dragged through a life of curses and bloodshed. She was simply Y/N, and she was perfect.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” Kento whispered, his voice rough, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. It was a tear not of sorrow, but of relief. Because here she was. Here, with him, in this place that wasn’t an ending, but rather the beginning of something far more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

She laughed softly, a sound that filled his chest with a warmth that he hadn’t known in life. “You never lost me,” she said, her voice as soft as the wind, carrying a truth that wrapped around his heart. “I’ve always been here, Kento. I was never truly gone.”

And it was then he understood.

This was not an afterlife of sorrow or regret. This was peace. This was the love they had fought for, the love they had lived for—eternal, unbroken. In this place, there was no time. No distance. No fear.

They stood together, in a quiet serenity that washed over them, knowing that their souls had always been tethered, even in the darkest of moments. Their hands were still entwined, their bodies close as they both took in the purity of this moment.

Kento pulled her closer, his chest resting against hers, his arms wrapped around her like she was the only thing that could ever make sense of the world. His heart ached in the most beautiful way, full of longing and love. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to completely sink into the peace she offered.

“Y/N,” he whispered again, this time his voice barely audible, “I don’t ever want to leave this place. With you, I’ve found everything. And if I could’ve told you sooner… how much I loved you… I would have.”

She pulled away slightly, her hands resting on either side of his face, her eyes full of softness, understanding. “I knew, Kento. I knew,” she said, her voice a melody that soothed his soul. “In every moment, I knew. And now… now we don’t need words anymore. Because this… this is our forever.”

And forever it was.

They stayed there, in the quiet of the afterlife, no longer burdened by time or fear. Every moment they shared was a memory woven into the very fabric of their being, a new chapter of their love story written in the stars above.

It was in the way their fingers brushed against each other, how the world around them stood still, as though even the universe itself honored their bond.

Kento didn’t need to speak. There was no need to confess, not anymore. Their love had never been about words or promises—it had always been about being together, despite everything the world had thrown at them. And now, here, in this place of peace, there was nothing to fear. Only each other.

They walked side by side, their steps light and effortless, no longer weighed down by the struggles of their past. There were no curses to battle, no wars to fight. In this place, there was only love.

Their love, eternal and pure, would echo through the cosmos, like a soft whisper carried on the wind.

And for the first time, Kento Nanami knew that everything had always been leading to this—this moment, this peace, and this love that would never fade. He’d choose her love and their story forever, and ever, and ever again.

thank you so much if you read all of this!!! im not so sure if i like it but at least its out there. feedback and suggestions are always appreciated! and if you see typos, no you didnt! also i take requests(please i yearn to write). much love💕💕

[strawberryblue-blog]

A to Z —Pau Cubarsi.

summary: SFW alphabet with Pau.

warning: none. cute, soft, fluff, headcanon.

words count: 1k.

A - Affection (How affectionate is he? How does he show affection towards you?)

He was not very affectionate at first, he is very shy and was embarrassed to invade your space. Although he is learning to get attached and give you lots of cuddles but he still feels a little embarrassed. He prefers you to be the one to show it first.

B - Best friend (What would it be like if he were your best friend? How would the friendship begin?)

Probably if you were friends, Pau would be the shy friend who wouldn't approach you but after you became friends he wouldn't let you go. He is good, caring and kind, he would be your best friend forever.

C - Cuddles (Does he like cuddles? What would his cuddles be like?).

He likes them, he has to admit it. He gets so intimate and affectionate, he's a kid and likes it when you cuddle his hair, back or nape of his neck.

D - Domestic (Does he want to settle down? How good is he at cooking and cleaning, etc?)

Yes, he would like to move in with you in the future. He's still learning, he's still very young and living alone costs, but he would definitely do anything from home to help you.

E - End (If you had to break up with your partner, how would you do it?)

You would feel very sad, too much. But sometimes relationships wear out and I don't think he would cut you off. He would hold out until he tries to get it back or you are the one to leave him but Pau would rather break his heart than yours.

F - Fiancé (How does he feel about commitment? How long would it take for him to marry/ask you to marry him?)

Honestly at this age it terrifies him. He is very young and getting married is a huge decision that takes time and training. But yes he would propose in the very distant future.

G - Gentle (How kind is he, both physically and emotionally?)

Too much. Everything about Pau screams kindness. He is a cuddly little bear even if he is very shy, if he trusts you enough he will be like a baby in your arms.

H - Hugs (Does he like hugs? How often does he do it and what is it like?)

Of course he likes them. He likes to feel your warmth on his body when you hug him, how his muscles relax and how they fit perfectly when he surrounds you.

I - I love you (How quickly did he say the L word?).

It wasn't that fast. Probably because you were the first person he really said it to and he struggled a lot to say it to you. Maybe out of fear or maybe out of embarrassment.

J - Jealousy (To what extent does he/she get jealous? What does he/she do when jealous?)

He is not a jealous person but if he sees someone else trying to get close to you with other intentions, he might be somewhat moved like anyone else. But he usually isn't.

K - Kissing (What are his kisses like? Where does he kiss you? Where does he like you to kiss him?)

Shy but warm and soft kisses. On your forehead especially, hands and cheek, with small touches full of love and energy.

L - Little ones (How is he with children? Would he like to have them in the future?)

He is quite good with children, maybe because he is still one and understands them. Yes he would like to but as I said before, in the very future.

M- Mornings (How are the mornings with him?)

Mornings with laughter and shy good morning kisses while rolling in the sheets and snuggling with fiaca. When he wakes up with you he is in a good mood and could stay with you a while longer even knowing he is late for his commitments.

N - Night (How are the nights with him?)

Quiet and relaxed. Probably watch movies or play board games to have good times together, would go to bed late and wouldn't mind you talking all night.

O - Open (When did he start revealing things about himself? Does he say everything all at once or does he reveal little things little by little)?

It took him quite a while because of his shyness. He is a person who listens more than he talks but after trusting you, he would say anything he wants to know and tell you everything for advice or support.

P - Patience (How easily he gets angry?)

He never gets angry. Neither with you, nor with others. He is a person who would never lose his temper as long as no one would hurt you or treat you badly.

Q - Quizzes (How much would he remember about you? Does he remember all the details or does he forget unimportant things?)

Everything. He knows everything about you and remembers every second of your moments together because you are important to Pau.

R - Remember (What is your favorite moment of your relationship?)

He really likes when you go to the court to support him, that's definitely his favorite memory of his life. When you wear his jersey, when you shout his name, when you tell him how proud you are of him.

S - Safety (Is he very protective? How would he protect you? How would he like to be protected?)

The usual. He wants you to feel safe with him, so he might be a little protective when they are out and about, putting his arms around your shoulders or holding your hand tightly. Also when his friends are around, he usually hugs you around the waist or rests your back on his chest.

T - Try (How much effort does he put into appointments, anniversaries, gifts, daily chores?).

He is very detail-oriented because he loves to give you with your likes. He would buy every single thing for you, even clothes or food, whenever he goes to your house he always comes with something in his hands to give you.

U - Ugly (What are some of your bad habits?)

Sometimes getting lost in a fixed point maybe. Sometimes you're talking to him and Pau gets lost on you, it's like he gets paralyzed and you have to repeat things again.

V - Vanity (To what extent does he care about his appearance?)

It's quite embarrassing for him but he tends to worry a lot about his looks, maybe because he's young and doesn't feel comfortable with it yet. How for example, he didn't know how much he liked her smile before but now that you know that you love her, Pau starts to like it too.

W - Whole (Would he feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. After he gets used to you, it will be hard for him to leave you alone for so many days because of his travels abroad. He would call you at night or text you every hour to know what you are doing, where you are, etc. He hopes to come home soon to see you again and hug you.

X - Xtra (A random headcanon for him).

He likes to cook with you, especially desserts. He is very caring and likes to spend quality time while making yummy things, learns from you and is really fun to cook with.

Y - Yuck (What are some things he wouldn't like, either in general or from his partner?)

He wouldn't like it if you let your studies get the best of you. He understands that sometimes it's hard and you want to give up but Pau would support you to keep going and not stress out, that it's not all rosy sometimes and that's okay. He also wouldn't want you to stop studying so you can go see him, he wouldn't allow you to spend your time on the game while you have to study for important exams.

Z - Zzz (What are your sleeping habits?).

Being the little spoon is one of his cutest habits. Or sleeping on your chest, hugging your torso tightly. He feels warm and likes it when you gently stroke his hair until he falls asleep.

[ottpopfic]

Leo’s husband is pissed

Not at him, Jason very rarely gets this pissed at family. The last time he was this pissed at someone in their inner circle was when he heard that the reason Will and Nico were not going to keep their now goddaughter was because they were not sure they could give her the time and attention she deserved on their own. The tongue-lashing Jason gave Nico had been brutal, reminding him that he and Leo and the entire Way Station had been with them about her since the beginning. But it had been alright in the end, Katie has been with them for two years at this point and is thriving

And nothing can get Jason this mad like something related to their kid. It's not so much Katie this time, though she was the original catalyst, this time it is New Rome and the Senate digging in their heels about setting an age limit to join the Legion. Or more the extraction and rehoming of multiple children, finding it easier to do nothing than do right by a bunch of preteens and grade schoolers

“It really is horse shit” Leo agrees around his toothbrush, watching his husband pace in an angry circle through the bathroom door as he rants half in Wolf Speak

“And then, and then” Jason continues on “Lucius had the gall of saying it should be fine because I turned out fine” The blond then does a series of growls and postures that Leo knows is some very intense profanity directed at the Senate and there parentage or lack thereof

“And what did you say?” Leo asks as he does his rinse and spit

“I told him where he could shove that notion with his-” Then Jason is lapsing back into Wolf again with a big angry sneeze snort and his shoulders up by his ears, his prowling of the rug gaining a heavier footfall, recanting to Leo exactly what he thinks of that assessment

Leo snorts a laugh as he hits the light switch for the bathroom “Did you say it exactly like that or were you more Praitor?”

“I was a professional, unfortunately”

“I'm glad we Greeks are way easier,” Leo sympathizes, making his way past his husband to sit on their bed “All you gotta do is win both the screaming match and the following fistfight and everything is fine and done with”

“That's because Camp Half-Blood doesn't play politics,” Jason laments, frustration in his every tone “With Conner’s program it feels like everyone is only focused on the kids, there's no - no ego involved”

“Rome is kinda known for ego Superman,” Leo says, trying to redirect the spiral “Didn't they stab a whole dude about it”

Jason gives a posture and look that tells Leo not to even start on purposeful historical inaccuracies because he's not in the mood for that type of banter, fair enough

“I'm just saying” Leo presses on, laying down on his husband’s pillow, “I think you need to get a knife in there, or gladiatorial rings? Is that still an option? Can you fight it out?”

“Not anymore” Jason growls in frustration and then starts doing another lap of the rug, snorting out another series of colorful curse words in Wolf

“Do you want to take it out on me?”

Jason freezes in his tracks, head whipping around to stare at Leo with his nostrils flared. Leo just smiles all teeth and stretches as enticingly as he can with his arms over his head. He knows how Jason likes him, something about the bend that has his husband's eyes tracking with that sharpness Leo loves. He lets his back leave the bed a little, hips canting and tilting his chin just so. He knows exactly what he's saying with his body, he's gotten good at speaking his man’s first language after all these years

Leo gets rewarded for his display with a still steaming blond all up in his space. A frankly huge hand is sliding under the arch of the small of his back, palm flush to his spine and lifting him close to his husband's middle until Leo’s hips are in the air. Jason holds his body up over him on his forearm, his bright blue eyes scanning his face as he settles in between his legs. Leo bites his lip to keep from giggling and quirks his eyebrows in challenge, hooking his legs over his man’s waist

“I'm gonna make you catch fire” Jason hisses, hell yeah “I'm gonna make you fucking cry”

“Is that a threat Mr.Valdez” Leo teases, making sure his grin is showing his teeth

The scar on his lip pulls as Jason flashes a canine “It's a promise” and then he is on Leo like he has something to prove

[yallmakemyassitch]

The Shoe Store (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ 👠

Summary: A grumpy Elizabeth learns how to smile after her bad attitude at the shops today! And Mrs. Mulberry knows just what to do to whip her daughter into shape...

Word count: 4893

Tobi talks: Finally got around to finishing this as promised! This took a long time, but I grinded today to get this finished :3 Either way, I'm very happy with the results and I hope you are as well. The art was an art trade done by @ntj2pj, please go follow him, he's very talented! Either way, have a good weekend!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60765493

“But mummy, I don’t wanna gooooo!”

A little girl wailed dramatically, being dragged by the wrist. Her loud complaint got an annoyed sigh from her mother. The Mulberry was fighting with her body weight as Elizabeth defiantly tugged back to slow their journey.

The 8-year-old made surprising progress against slowing the over-40-year-old woman. The sound of her heels scraping against the ground made the British woman cringe. Her doing that was one of the multitude of reasons they were here in the first place!

“I know, Eliza, but we both know you need new shoes!” Her mother argued, looking down at her whining child for a split second. She felt momentary relief cascade over her psyche as the duo neared the revolving doors of the luxury shoe store.

Mrs. Mulberry felt the harsh tug of a ‘certain child’ pulling at her arm, which abruptly stopped them for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Elizabeth had burrowed her feet into the ground below, halting their approach into the dreaded shop.

Heather had had enough and whipped around, glaring softly down at her daughter, “Elizabeth Mulberry, behave yourself.” she exclaimed firmly, ticked off. Her golden eye’s typical gentle appearance had slightly widened into a piercing stare.

Elizabeth’s bright green eyes looked shocked at her mum for a few moments, before pouting and slouched her head with a compliant nodding. Heather softened her face and sighed deeply.

She crouched before the 8-year-old, reaching her gloved hand and softly holding her sagging head by her chin. Eliza’s eyes still gazed at the floor, however.

“Lizzy, darling…You know I care about your comfort more than anything else but, we’re here for a reason. I need you to behave for me, dear.”

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“Can you do that for me, love?”

Eliza bit her lip, “Mhm…” she slowly nodded her head.

Mrs. Mulberry smiled, although it wasn’t visible from her void face, “Atta’ girl.” her yellow eye arched north to express her warm visage.

Mrs. Mulberry stood back up, her impressive height casting a heavy shadow over the small child. She quietly offered her gloved hand to her daughter. Eliza hesitated for a moment, glancing up at her smiling, welcoming as always. Just like that, she felt comforted, albeit still upset she had to be here, and beamed up at her.

Elizabeth was uncomfortable being here and her parent could tell, but she’d do her best for her mom. Eliza placed the nub of her arm in her hand, the far-too-long sleeve hanging as her mother lovingly grabbed the end of her limb.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go get you those shoes~”

Elizabeth didn’t respond and soon, the duo completed the journey to the revolving glass doors and entered the quaint, but elegant shop.

…

The establishment was very stylish looking. Shiny auburn wood planks lined the place beneath their feet. It was so shiny in fact, that Eliza could see her own, wobbly reflection. The ceiling was not very tall but still accommodated her mother.

It had chandeliers hung in every crevice of the store, sunbathing the single-roomed shop in its warm gleam. The aisles were tall, taller than her mother, and were lined with endless amounts of shoes, ranging from women's heels to children’s shoes.

The shop, L’Femme Paradis, as the name suggested, was directed primarily at girls and women. And the shoes weren’t cheap either! From what Elizabeth could see around her, all the customers were women and girls, save for a few boys.

They were scattered about the area’s floor and based on their fine gowns and extravagant hats, came from luxury, rich nobles just like her.

Elizabeth had parted ways with Heather with the excuse of looking for shoes to wear, in reality, she wanted to explore. Standing and listening to her mother gush about another pair she found was something she couldn’t bear to experience again.

‘I don’t belong here.’

That recurring thought shouted in the foretops of her mind. It tolerated her feeble tries to ignore it for a while, only for it to take over her line of thinking. She groaned frustratedly, finally accepting the uncomfortable aura this place radiated.

It was true, she couldn’t help but feel out of place in here. It was probably because she never left her home for any reason other than school, but the people here were…questionable, to say the least.

From what she eavesdropped, as she thoughtlessly looked up the mighty shelves, the women were shamelessly rude. One flamboyant lady, instead of helping, scolded her accompanying maids if they dropped a box. It was even more impressive that they only dropped one. The stacks they carried were dangerously high, almost near touching the ceiling.

It made Lizzy sad that they were spoken to so badly. She even saw a poor woman, an elder lady, on the verge of tears after being verbally lashed out at. Her employer, fan in hand, fanned her face and stormed past her, nearly knocking her over. But the two made eye contact when she passed.

The little girl’s sorrow-filled eyes reached into hers. The older one stopped to give her a weak smile, despite her leaking tears. She followed her employer in tow, in line with two other similarly dressed ladies. But they were much younger than her.

Elizabeth smiled bittersweetly to herself, that woman’s smile was what she liked to do the most. A trait inherited by her mom. She stopped and slid to the floor, leaning against the shelf. It was only the elite academy she attended and her mansion she knew intimately.

The Mulberry property was large enough for her and she had plenty of things to do while there, so why leave? She liked it that way. When it’s just her Ernie and Maxie, life is fun and simple.

But her lifestyle left her with a bit of a hole in her heart; Elizabeth had no friends. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she had her cute doggy and even cuter little brother as company. Along with that, an endless group of staff who were trained to entertain her. Seeing the same people every day never got to her, but a change in routine would surely be lovely.

Thoughts like these hardly seeped into her life, but when not playing in her home, her chance to retrospect always brought up the concept of just that; a new friend. What has kept that idea down for so long was seeing the way people treated others.

Eliza was afraid she would be subjected to that treatment and the thought of it only made her want to cry. She sniffled. The people in her class bored her, their only defining feature was that they were rich like her but pompous like everyone else.

Sometimes, there was the rare little boy or girl who accompanied their parents to one of her mom’s social events hosted at their mansion and they’d have a grand time together. But it never escalated into something more, a “one-time playdate”, a phrase coined by her staff.

Someone to fill that hole would be nice.

Funnily enough, Eliza had already come across someone she thought would fit in her fantasies just perfectly. She’d been in the back of her mind since she first laid eyes on her.

She was a girl like her and really pretty. She wore a puffy red dress, had locks of curly blond hair pulled into ponytails, and cute red ribbons on both sides of her head. Her hand held a similarly colored, red parasol.

From what Elizabeth could see on the end of the aisle, where it broke off into a walkway, the wall was also lined with shoes.

There stood the girl and her mom. She attempted to make her gawking and eavesdropping not so obvious, hiding her face against the wooden structure of the tall shelves.

She had a fetching laugh and spoke nicely to her mother, a nice change in pace from the honest-to-god brats children that bossed their mother around like a dog.

Eliza thought about what might happen to her if she talked to her mother in that tone. She immediately cringed to herself. Speaking of her mother, she was shopping in the aisle just next to her, unknown to Elizabeth that is.

Mrs. Mulberry turned the corner into the next row, nearly stepping on her daughter in the process, who was still seated on the ground. She gasped in surprise. The 10 boxes in her hands had their foundation shake before falling back into place smoothly after much squirming.

Elizabeth nearly didn’t realize it was her mother until she looked up and cringed even harder like the sourest lemon was plopped in her mouth. The number of boxes she carried had her appalled.

“Goodness Elizabeth, what are you doing on the floor?” Mrs. Mulberry exclaimed, exasperated.

“I was just looking around and then sat here,” said Eliza, now standing and motioning to her former spot on the glossy surface.

“Ah well, did you find anything you’d like to try on?” Heather perked up at the news of her daughter’s store exploration.

Uh oh. She had completely forgotten to do that, having spent the majority of her time wandering. And giggling at some of the ridiculous designs she saw on the shoes. Eliza decided to stop laughing when she got a couple of frowns from the employees. She couldn’t help it, they were just too funny.

Heather’s eyes thinned suspiciously. “Lizzy, you did find something, right? I didn’t let you out my sight for no reason…”

“Uhhhh…” Elizabeth didn’t want to be exposed for lying, so grabbed a random pair off the shelf and presented it to her mother. “I found these.”

Heather’s single golden eye arched up, indicating a smile. “That’s excellent, love. Let’s go try them on.” Her mom waltzed past her, carrying the stupid amount of merchandise with ease. Eliza, out of sight, rolled her eyes, knowing that the hardest part of shopping was about to begin.

.

.

.

.

.

“Eliza, dear,” Her mother stared, deadpan. “This pair is 5 sizes too big.”

Elizabeth was sitting on a shoe bench, no longer wearing her heels, her mother yet again crouched beside her with the boxes scattered next to them. The girl’s shoes were missing, showing off her stripy stockings to their fullest.

Her arms were crossed and the British child was looking away, her lips pulled in a somewhat guilty expression. A soft sigh rocked the older Brit’s shoulders and Eliza immediately knew she had disappointed her.

“Lizzy, why did you ask me to explore if you didn’t want to find anything?”

She knew the answer but knew that honesty would break her mother’s heart. Elizabeth, hated, absolutely loathed shopping for clothes. It was a tedious task that got under her skin and made her pouty and grumpy. How she behaved while clothes shopping was a stark contrast to who she was.

Elizabeth would do anything to share her mother’s enthusiasm, but just couldn’t. The answer was written all over her face; Eliza was bored. The mother’s eyes furrowed in retrospection, she knew her daughter didn’t like trips like these, but the two weren’t here for fun today.

Eliza’s shoes were worn and needed to be replaced; which included her daughter’s favorite heels, a grey-blue pair of heels. She was honest about it while at home and needless to say, she wasn’t very happy. It required a promise of a double helping of ice cream after supper to get her out into the carriage. But she grimaced the whole way there.

They generally shared a lot of interests, piano, fencing, playing games, and…

Playing games, of course. She suddenly had a curious, burst of genius, that made her surprise herself that she hadn’t thought of it before. But in this public space, Heather would have to be a bit more discreet. Her daughter could get pretty loud, so she would have to be increasingly gentle for this to work.

In one smooth motion, the tall Brit gently grasped her daughter’s ankle, her other hand promptly beginning to skitter the bottom of her foot softly.

Eliza yelped, jumping in her seat before the most adorable giggles began to pour out of her. Heather smiled to herself upon hearing them, it was a lovely break from her daughter’s grumpy attitude.

“M-mohohom! What are you- ehehehe- d-dohohoing?” Elizabeth giggled frantically. As Mrs. Mulberry predicted, she’d start squirming. In an instant, Eliza felt her legs freeze in place like they had been frozen in a block of ice, which left her poor feet at the mercy of her mother.

She knew what this was and bitterly shouted, “D-don’t use your mahahagic on mehehe!” a new wave of laughter came from her as she scritched the sole of her foot.

Mrs. Mulberry swallowed back a tease, instead, keeping her face cool as a cucumber, sporting an almost professional demeanor.

“Why all the giggles, dear? Is something funny?” She asked with feigned concern, a hint of a coo laced her tone.

She blushed and quickly shook her head, her laughter unabated.

“Oh well, let’s move on to the next pair.”

Mrs. Mulberry halted her wiggling fingers, giving her daughter a break, smiling a bit upon hearing her gentle pants. She grabbed another box and opened it.

The pair was a pastel pink ankle strap children’s heels, Heather unbuckled the strap and placed the heel on Elizabeth’s foot; she noticeably left her outstretched leg shoeless.

“How does that feel?”

“I-it feels alright- h-hey! Hehehehe!”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, as her mother was back at it again, wiggling her fingertips all over her sole. Elizabeth couldn’t move a single inch from the waist down, not even being able to curl her toes in resistance, so she was forced to endure it.

Eliza’s belly shook with laughter, her waist twisting her torso despite her unmoving legs. The state of them was quite bizarre in fact; she couldn’t move them, but gravity didn’t seem to have a hold on her legs either. Her mother could bend or outstretch her leg and it wouldn’t fall.

This was only made aware to her when Mrs. Mulberry outstretched her leg forward and began to scrabble her clothed, neat nails on the fleshy bed that was the back of her knee.

She loudly squealed. The tickling stopped. And so did the action in the shop. Elizabeth felt the air freeze the moment her scream rang out. How could she be so careless? She was in public after all, but Eliza, along with Mrs. Mulberry was completely alone in this section of the store.

They were at one of the ends of the long wooden corridors that were shelves, Lizzy’s shoe bench was pressed up against its narrow width, conveniently placed for those who shopped and immediately had a seat to go to.

The seats were placed at every other shelf, which was made consciously apparent when she saw a figure through the gaps of several shelves stop and slowly make its way to the end.

The figure peeked over, a middle-aged woman, wearing an exuberant hat. Her scarlet petticoat made itself aware before her face did, a very confused and rather perturbed expression.

Elizabeth was staring at her, the women stared back. And her mother had quickly joined the stare-down. The room was silent before Eliza squeaked again, looking down horrified that her mother touched the back of her knee.

A warning for what was to come. She turned back to her daughter, an invisible smile stretched wide over her stygian face as continued to tickle the back of her knee.

“Coochie coochie coo~” She sang, clearly putting up a show for the woman watching. Like lightwork, her magic sparked up. A cyan cloud burst from nowhere and out of the wispy and sparkly residue of the cloud came two, blackened disembodied hands. Ones she could control freely as if they were attached to her arms.

The moment they spawned, the fingers were twitching and squirming, quite literally mirthful as their “body” was tormented by tickles. Eliza did the best that she could to control her hands and managed to clamp them on her mother’s shoulders.

Her fingers dug into the purple fabric of her shoulder pads and pulled, but her tugging was weakened by her endured giggles.

The woman who was gently staring, chuckled softly at the sight and returned behind the shelf. She was so embarrassed, her already flushed face warmed up even more knowing a stranger just saw her being tickled. Let alone tease her!

“Mahahahmuhaha! People are lohohoking!” She softly squealed, wiggling in her seat.

“I agree, darling. After all, your shoes are quite fetching!” Heather hummed.

“Thahat’s not whahat I meant!”

“Then what did you mean, sweetheart?” Her invisible smile stretched slightly.

Elizabeth laughter was her response.

“Ah I see, how interesting~”

Mrs. Mulberry stopped to grab one of the spectral hands clasped on her shoulder and took it gently into her palm. They were nearly as large as her hands, the long phalanges twitched in recovery.

With a single forefinger, she tranced a gentle line from the base of her middle finger, along the palm, and to the wrist. Eliza squeaked, somewhat alarmed giggles spilling out.

“Mohohom?! What are you d-dohoing?”

She responded curtly. “Nothing, darling.”

Heather's fingers wrapped hers around her daughters, caging them gently but firmly. Her thumb did the same to her child’s, pulling the charcoal skin taut. She repeated her actions from before, tracing a forefinger along the much more tender flesh.

Her face brightened with amusement at the happy noises her child was making. Lizzy’s laughter only increased when her mother traced slow, soft circles at the palm of her hand.

Her body screamed at her to move her lower half, to kick out and thrash. Just something to make her cope with the unbearable sensations, “Nohoohooho, m-mahahamuh!” Eliza has always had sensitive hands but to the point of ticklishness? Utterly ludicrous. But her mother would believe otherwise, as her unseen smile sat at a stretch and satisfied smirk.

Suddenly, she picked up the pace and her elegant tracing turned to merciless skittering, titillating off her flesh like a feather at an exquisite speed. Heather gently scratched at the very center and slowly outlined the creases, which boded lovely squeaks out of her sweet daughter.

Eliza giggled a lovely “Mehehercy!”, her cheeks now a precious shade of pink. Her uncontrollable laughter hitched and dipped at random intervals, she couldn’t handle the fiery trails traveling her tender palms. Which was made obvious by her fruitless squirming.

“Hahaha!”

Elizabeth heard a hearty chuckle coming from her left. She managed to open her scrunched-up eyes just a bit to see a young woman, holding a cyan parasol and sporting an elegant white dress. She was cracking up, as were her children, two girls, and a boy, all wearing similarly colored clothes.

“She’s so cute!” The girl with short hair blurted out.

She blushed furiously, despite already having a flushed face. It was miraculously Eliza was able to burn up more. Couldn’t they mind their own business?!

“Come now children!” Their mother said, still sniggering, “We mustn't stare. Come now, come!” she motioned them forward for them to follow her with the wag of her gloved hand.

“Yes, mother!” They exclaimed energetically.

They bounced along in front of her, shooting her playful and warm looks. A train of giggles filled her ears as they passed and quieted down the farther they got from her…

Before they could disappear in another aisle, the mother turned around. The parasol shadowed her face, but Elizabeth could still make out a large smirk on her face. She smooched the pads of her fingers and blew a kiss aimed at the small child.

Elizabeth was floored and looked away as soon as she did. Her free hand was trying to smother her lovely pink face, which only muffled her uncontrollable giggles.

“Aww…” The woman kissed her lips and cooed at the delightful scene before her. The lady with the parasol turned on her heel and continued with her rowdy bunch, who were crying out for their mother to follow them at this point.

Mrs. Mulberry chuckled heartily and stopped tickling her daughter. Lizzy’s hand was released from its restraint but lingered in her grasp as Mrs. Mulberry readjusted her hand. She now had the hand in hers and her mother was lovingly brushing her thumb over the knuckles.

“So cute…” the uttered gently, so soft in fact, Lizzy didn’t hear.

Mrs. Mulberry leaned over and pressed a tender kiss on the middle knuckle. This spawned a succession of gentle kisses, which took Eliza by surprise.

“My sweet little princess…”

Elizabeth smiled at the nouveau nickname, expressing this with a flustered giggle. If her happiness gave her the ability to swing her legs, Eliza would. The kisses explored each of her knuckles, her invisible lips slowly pressing up against the hard bone. She took her time to peck the pads of her fingers and smooched the bones of her fingers.

She flipped over her hand, palm up. Heather pressed a loud, tender smooch on the palm, which made Eliza spaz and laugh a little harder at the ticklish sensation. “Mohohommy! Nohoho!”

Heather didn’t come back after her, only smiling as she pulled back her hands. Heather’s eyes crinkled, signaling her present smile, which would have been a comfort if she hadn’t grabbed her leg again.

“W-wait!”

She bent her leg forward and let go, leaving it in its stuck position mid-air like she was some sort of puppet. Before she could say anything, Heather squeezed her thigh, nothing short of a squeal came out. All her attempts at talking voided in an instant, and belligerent laughter sputtered out of her.

She even snorted a couple of times, which made Mrs. Mulberry laugh. She was plucking and squeezing her thighs like she was clumping off chunks of dough, using both hands on both thighs.

Heather traveled her squeezing up to her hips and pinched the divots briefly, which got a delicious squeal out of her daughter.

“N-NOHOHOHO!” She cried, her mirth right now outsounded when Heather got to her toes. She’s found a new sweet spot and would dare to take advantage of it. Mrs. Mulberry pressed her thumbs into the divots and kneaded the flesh like a ticking clock.

“Poor baby…” Her coo went unheard as her child’s cackles overshadowed the woman’s tease. The elder Mulberry’s heart was close to bursting out of her chest, she’d never seen this sweet summer child laugh so hard.

She slowed down her tickling to a stop, allowing her daughter to catch her breath.

Once she did, her mother didn’t stop. Instead, she, again, scribbled wildly on the bottom of her foot, doing her the most to make sure her daughter squealed. And she did, Elizabeth hiccuped as she laughed joyously. Heather smiled at the sound of her daughter’s belly laughter.

“Hm…what else should you wear?” Her casual manner was driving her insane.

“N-nothihihing!” She cried, her laughter much squeakier than before.

“Oh, I swear Elizabeth…” Heather hummed. “What is so ridiculous about these shoes?”

“Whahat do you mehehean?”

“You laughed at all these poor shoes in the shop so much, they must feel bad about themselves now~”

“Hehehehe! Stop it, mohohom!” Lizzy giggled helplessly, the joke being played on her would have her pouting if it weren’t for the tickling. But thankfully, the scribbling slowed down to teasy tracing. The gloved hand mimicked the shape of her sole, Heather danced and traced the outline of the heart-shaped paw bean.

“Maybe you want to say “sorry for laughing at you” to these poor things?” Her pace picked up to gentle scribbles.

Through her titters, her daughter shook her head, “N-never!” she exclaimed defiantly.

“No? Hm…” Her mother began to let out pseudo-hums of contemplation, rubbing the bottom of her chin with her free hand.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth did her best to release herself of her loving mother’s magical restraint, but as she’s tried before, nothing worked. No matter how much she budged, Elizabeth could not escape. Which only added more butterflies to the swarming anticipation in her belly at the moment.

“How about this?”

Her mother pinched and began to wiggle around her pinkie toe, which caused her daughter to squeal quite delightfully.

“There are ten shoes left, just like you have ten toes.” She remarked. “Apologize to each one and I’ll move on to the next one. But be quick about it, or you’ll surely regret it.” The sinister hum in her tone was all that it took for Elizabeth to stay alert, but hysterical. Eliza could hardly say a word, her toes were deviously ticklish after all.

“Don’t you have something to say, darling?”

“Ahahaha! S-sahahahary!” Her howling made her tummy tremble to that of a mighty earthquake.

A smug satisfaction washed over Mrs. Mulberry, “Good girl~” her praise just about oozed with mischief.

The gloved fingers moved to tickle the other toe next in line, inspiring the British child to cry out in tearful mirth. “Kitchykitchykitchykoo” Her mother teased, her voice in a whisper so only her daughter could hear her taunts.

Elizabeth shook her head to distract herself from the rude mockery. Heather only laughed in response. “Did you really think I’d forget how ticklish these little things were?” She chuckled again, wiggling the toe in tandem. “You never fail to make me laugh, dearest…”

Her daughter merely giggled.

For the next few minutes, Mrs. Mulberry teased each digit with her flawless scribbling, not offering a smidgen of mercy for her child. Her dearest Lizzy was in tears at this point, her cheeks bathed in shades of pink and red.

The shop patrons were aware of what was going on at this point, with whispers flying about the women about the odd woman tickling her daughter. None could deny how the British child’s saccharine laughter warmed their hearts and made their shopping trip all the more pleasant.

Some “conveniently” needed to shop nearby and aw’d at the sight. Some children mimicked Lizzy’s laughter before running off. Even the old woman from before was passing by, no longer crying and wearing a wrinkly smile at the spectacle. In the back of her mind, she was reminded of her grandchildren and their darling laughter.

Elizabeth didn’t remember when her mother stopped, she was too stuck in her euphoria to notice. She only did when she felt the welcoming sensation of a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I believe that’s enough for you, dearest…”

She panted, residual hiccups and giggles spilling out, a sleepy smile graced her face from laughing so hard. Her mother lovingly placed her default heels back on, before pressing an extra tend kiss right on her cheek and forehead.

The magic ceased and she was free to move her legs once again. Heather collected the scatter boxes into two towers, one held in each hand. Before that, her mother kindly placed her default heels back on. Not without wiggling her fingers against her to get a few extra giggles, that is.

“I’m going to go buy these, stay put, sweetheart~”

Elizabeth didn’t bother to disobey, as fatigue already sank deep in her youthful flesh. She had recovered her breath, but the buzzing warmth still lingered in her chest like a blooming flower.

She couldn’t help but start to giggle a little, not from any phantom tickling, but just how funny it all was. Soft, squeaky snickering effortlessly escaped, the swing of her legs picking up to match her amusement.

“That was so cute…”

There was a soft voice that came from her far left. She opened her eyes to see who it was and her eyes widened. It was the pretty girl from earlier, the one with the red dress and golden hair.

Eliza blushed as she approached, still captivated by her beauty. Her demeanor was shy, as she kept her hands cusped together by her front. But her sparkling blue eyes maintained eye contact with hers.

The red-wearer’s smile stretched as she halted beside her, “W-what’s your name?” she stammered softly.

“Elizabeth.” Her lips moved before her brain could.

“That’s such a pretty name!” she mused excitedly, clasping her hands together over her heart. “M-my name is Cadence! I really like your laugh!”

Cadence went as crimson as her petticoat and pressed her hand over her mouth. Her gentle voice had gotten loud out of nowhere. Elizabeth smiled widely at her. “And I really like your dress!” Lizzy exclaimed, just as loudly.

The flustered girl paused for a second and brightened. “And I- and I l-like your hat!” Even louder. The British children took turns to one-up each other volume, raising their voices louder and louder with each compliment exchanged between one another.

Now, the shoppers were even more confused, first laughing, now shouting? The women exchanged odd glances at one another, sharing their mutual perplexity. Cadence’s mother was blissfully unaware of what was going on, trying on dresses in the changing chambers. Elizabeth’s mother could hear them loud and clear with the clerk.

She chuckled “A new friend, Elizabeth?” she exclaimed amusedly under her breath. She was due to make a new companion anyway.

.

.

.

.

.

Fin~

[traumatogo]

The Bloody Blue Thread

|• Prologue |

When Martin and Chris were only children, they both had a great curiosity about animals that set them apart from their peers.

From a young age, they were captivated by the diverse creatures that inhabited their world. They spent countless hours exploring the small lakes with their mom and dad, observing the behavior of various animals.

They always loved learning about them, studying their habits, and drawing them with the enthusiasm and creativity.

Their sketches were filled with vibrant colors and imaginative details, each one reflecting their fascination with the animal kingdom.

Chris, The younger brother, He found joy in petting the creatures they encountered and often dreamed, With his little mind of his, what it would be like to talk with them.

On the other hand, The older brother, Martin, while equally fascinated, had a curiosity that was less kind to animals. His curiosity sometimes led him down a darker path. Instead of simply observing and appreciating them, he found himself drawn to a desire to hurt them.

He wanted to understand their limits, often pushing boundaries that left his little brother feeling uneasy and a bit scared of him.

While they shared many delightful moments exploring nature together, the tension grew as Martin's curiosity turned into a longing to test his power over the animals. Chris would often cry and tell their mother when Martin was rude to the animals.

But when one day, Chris found his older brother sitting in a park with a dead bird in his hand, his heart sank. The vibrant childlike view of the world in the eyes of a child, usually alive with laughter and bright colors, faded into a blur.

His older brother, Someone he looked up to, Was holding a bleeding, Decapitated bird. Martin's normally bright seaweed blue eyes looked solemn and distant, his expression lost in thought. The young boy felt a wave of nausea wash over him, and tears began to well in his eyes, Running with his little legs to their mother.

Sobbing for their mother, his instinct was to flee from the scene as if running away could somehow erase the image of that fragile creature now lifeless in his brother's grip. Chris never did have the stomach to see dead animals. To him, life represented joy and happiness , and death was foreign and frightening to the child, shrouded in mystery.

He remembered all the times they had chased butterflies in the yard or watched ants march industriously along the sidewalk after Martin got home from school, Playing with racoons despite their parents scolding them, But now knowing his older brother purposefully took the bird's life, It scared him.

As Chris turned to leave, the soft crunch of grass beneath his small feet felt like a weight pressing down on him. He didn't look back, but he could sense the gravity of the moment lingering in the air, Scared, His small bright brown eyes watered over with tears. 

All he wanted was to feel his mother’s comforting embrace, to have her explain what had happened, to somehow make sense of the world that now felt so overwhelming.

At that moment, The young Chris wished with all his might that everything would return to normal, that they would be back home, safely nestled in their routine, the sun shining brightly as if nothing had changed. Martin talking about his day at school, And Chris who would show his big brother the art he drew with mom.

In the depths of his soul, he clung to the hope that one day he would understand, When he was older, like a cool adult, like Mom.

"Chris, Honey, what happened..?"

Linda spoke, Noticing her baby, gently picked up the shaken little 4-year-old, Holding him up as she wiped his tears.

Chris, the poor, shaking boy in his mom's hands, babbled anxiously, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to explain everything that had transpired.

His small frame trembled, not just from fear, but from the weight of the horror he had witnessed.

He could feel his heart racing, the frantic rhythm echoing in his ears, as he looked up into his mother’s face as he told her, It morphed from concern to horror and then to anger.

All that Chris could remember of that fateful day was their mom grounding Martin, and dragging the boys back home as the sky turned grey. Each step felt heavy as if the world was closing in on them. It wasn't just the scolding that lingered in the air; As their mother sat Martin down at a table, her eyes blazing with concern, Chris, who hid behind the door, could hear everything. 

She wasn't yelling, but the way her voice shook betrayed her frustration, making it even scarier. Her words cut through the air like glass, sharp and precise, He could tell Martin was crying.

And then, just like that, The next day, Martin was gone. It was a normal morning when Linda woke up to wake up Martin for school, Only to find a empty bed where Martin usually slept. The stillness in the house felt unsettling; the quiet was deafening. As she made her way to the dining room, a knot began to form in her stomach.

Thoughts raced in the mother’s mind—Did Martin run away?? Had he walked out after she talked to him, or was he lost somewhere, too ashamed to face them after everything that had happened?

Frantically searching through Martin’s room, Linda noticed his favorite blue striped shirt was missing along with a small backpack that he typically used for school. Panic set in deeper, and she called out for Chris to see if he was gone as well, luckily, finding him in his room playing with his toys. 

The absence of Martin felt like a gaping hole in their lives. Linda quickly called the police, Frustrated that they kept asking questions and not helping her to find her son.

As the sun began to rise higher in the sky, its rays seemed to mock her worry, illuminating the reality of the situation she was struggling to accept.

Martin had run away, and Linda's heart sank further with each passing minute.

The warmth of the setting sun became a bitter reminder of how quickly things could change, how the laughter of yesterday had dissolved into panic and despair.

What if Martin was out there all alone, feeling abandoned, or worse, regretting his choice to leave? 

With each tick of the clock, Linda's determination and fear only grew.

She couldn’t just sit there! . Gathering the 4-year-old Chris tightly in her arms, she whispered to him, Comforting both herself and Chris

“Well find him, I promise"

WELL! That was a silly Prologue, Not that bad, My hands hurt 😔

I really hope you guys like it!

(Sorry if there is any grammatical errors!)

Prologue complete! 💙🪡

[technically-human]

Wait if you feel up to it would you be willing to complete the set? Fem!comic paineland? (No pressure of course!)

I never read the comics, but I can try!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The dog days are over.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[deathsmallcaps]

Ok when I reblogged this last night, I picked 3rd because that’s what I’ve heard, but I also said maybe a little bit #4? Because at the time I thought ‘well something not really mattering to you = a sort of rejection” so I was a little confused as to how they were separate options?

And then when I woke up and I saw this I remembered that the ‘rejection’ idea was an antisemitic talking point. As in supposedly you saw the undeniable truth of Jesus and were like nah.

So I’m not sure how else it could’ve been worded - it was quickly visible to me after a good night’s sleep - but I wonder how many other people were thinking similarly to me when they picked #4, and how many are genuinely antisemitic. But I hope there’s just a lot of confused people.

[random-thot-generator]

Ghost decides after one blind date that you're going to be his.

>>>>>

Simon isn't used to dating. A quick hook up in the loo, sure. A drunken one night stand? He's had too many of those to count. But proper courting? Hell, it's been years, maybe a decade, since he's taken a bird out on an actual date.

It's probably going to be a disaster, but he gave Johnny his word he'd go out with his bird's best friend, so he can't back out now. He'll just have to grit his teeth and power through it.

His sour outlook for the evening is forgotten the second he sees you walk in with Johnny's bird. You're no tipsy tart on the pull, like the birds he's used to dealing with. You're a proper lady, dolled up nice for your date with him. It makes his chest feel tight when he gets a good look at your pretty face and nervous little smile.

His usual gruff manner is obviously not going to fly with you, so he quickly tries to recall the mannerisms he's seen his captain use around women. He gets to his feet with Johnny when the two of you reach the table, trying his best to look less intimidating.

Johnny introduces the two of you, and Simon melts inside when he takes your soft little hand in his for the first time. His brain goes fuzzy, dark eyes glazing over, and he's not sure what he says when he greets you, but it earns him a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Simon," are the first words you say to him.

Your voice is soft and sweet, and the way you say his name? Oh, he's gonna need to hear more of that, and often.

For the first time in a long time, Simon's worried about what someone thinks of him. He's worried he'll put you off with his harsh manner. So, he minds his words and gentles his tone. He slows his steps to match your pace and tucks your small hand at his elbow to keep you close and safe. He's holding doors and pulling out your chair. He compliments your dress and hair.

And when your heel catches on the sidewalk and you stumble, he doesn't bark a laugh or say something mean, wouldn't bloody dream of it. No, he catches you before you fall, and all that softness in his hands makes something shift in his brain. You're such a fragile little thing, delicate as spun sugar. You need a big nasty mutt like him to protect you, take care of you, and he's more than willing to do the job.

When the date is over, Simon sees you home, and you kiss him on your front stoop. It's not all groping hands and tangling tongues. It's a gentle press of lips, his big hands cradling your face, the sweet intimacy making his eyes flutter shut. He's floating when he finally gets back in his truck and drives himself home.

Instead of going to bed, Simon begins to formulate a plan of strategy. He figures it'll take a few more dates before you invite him into your flat, and several more after that before you invite him into your bed, then eventually into your life. It might take months, even a year or more. That's alright, though. If his years in the military have taught him anything, it's patience.

Simon knows how to play the long game. He'll go at your pace, let you get used to having him around, then make himself indispensable to you. No one will treat you as good, meet your every need and desire the way he will. He won't stop until he is your world, your reason for being. Your everything.

And when enough time has passed, he'll claim you completely as his. He's going to put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly, then tuck you away safe and sound in one of those cute country cottages he looked up online. You'll be his little missus, and he'll be your tamed beast, keeping his teeth and claws hidden but at the ready.

By the time he arrives at your flat the next evening for your second date, he's already got your engagement ring in his safe at home and the names of your future children picked out.

And when you text him the day after to invite him for dinner, the new name he replaced yours with pops up on his screen.

It says 'Missus Riley', of course.

-

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Simon hated the tapping out ceremony. Ever since he first had to partake in one, he despised it. With no family and very few friends, he was usually the last on the field, waiting until one of his superiors would tap him out. But he couldn’t skip them either.

So there he was. The sun was beating down on the hundreds of soldiers lined up in neat little rows, standing at attention while they waited for their loved ones. And they came quickly. One soldier after the other was tapped out by their parents, siblings, spouse, and sometimes even children. But he stayed still, watching the happy reunions out of the corner of his eyes. Watching the tears and hugs and kisses. He envied the others; he was jealous of what they had, and he didn’t. But Simon had always been good at following orders, so he didn’t move, barely even blinked as he was surrounded by happiness, while he drowned in his own sorrow.

After an hour, there was only one other soldier left. Simon had barely interacted with him, but he knew his face. And just when Simon thought he wouldn’t be the only one without someone to tap him out this time, a crowd of eight people moved toward the soldier. At the front was an older-looking woman, her brown hair streaked with grey and lines on her face, indicating her age. Around her were people of all ages and genders.

“My son!” The woman let out a sob as she finally threw her arms around the soldier’s neck, causing the man to chuckle, as he hugged her back. “I missed you too, mama.”

One by one, he talked to the people surrounding him, hugged them, and kissed them. Simon couldn’t help but watch, bile rising in his throat as jealousy threatened to overtake him. And as he watched, he couldn’t help but imagine himself in the soldier’s stead. Surrounded by a happy, loud, and loving family. People who were happy to see him. Nowadays, the only people he could call family were the guys from the 141, and they were away on a mission. Still, in his mind, the scene played out. His mother, smiling, rushing toward him. Followed by his brother and his wife, carrying his nephew.

The daydream was interrupted by someone walking toward him. He expected it to be his superior, there to finally release him from the nightmare. But it wasn’t.

A young woman took timid steps in his direction. Her eyes, bright but filled with sadness. Not her own sadness, though, it was sadness she felt for him. He didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t blink. She came to a stop in front of him, gazing up with a frown.

“Is someone coming?” Simon hesitated before giving an almost invisible shake of his head. She gasped, it was quiet and he barely heard it, but he felt it. In every bone, he felt her sadness and the sorrow she carried for him. Slowly, as if not to startle him, she lifted her hand, until it was inches away from his chest. “Is…is this okay?” When he gave a slight nod, she gently pressed her hand against his chest, finally tapping him out.

A breath he didn’t realize he had been holding escaped him as he finally turned to properly look at the woman. She was still gazing up at him, a soft smile now replacing the frown on her face.

“Thank you.” She nodded in response before glancing back at her family. When she looked back at Simon, she looked determined. “We’re going out to eat dinner if you’d like to join us?” Simon was about to decline when someone called out to him.

“Oi! Ghost!” He looked up and saw the soldier, now facing him, an arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder. “Let’s go; my mom says dinner’s on us!” Without waiting for a response, he turned around and started walking toward the car park, his entire family in tow. Simon kept looking after him until a soft, small hand slipped into his own. He glanced down and found the woman smiling up at him.

“Come, my mom doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” And with those words, the woman gently led him to follow her family.

Part 2

A/N: This will be a two-parter. I hope you liked it!