#and then after that it was ... what? slice of life? romance drama?

[mononijikayu]

say so — nanami kento.

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again.  Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him. “Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Post-Shibuya Arc, R-18, Smut, Fingering, P to V Sex, Passionate Sex, Pet Names (My Love, Baby), Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Jealousy, Teasing, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband, Nanami Kento is FATHER™️;

WORDS: 9.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: nanami won my poll again!!! hurray!!! here's tmi about this - thiis was half way finished when i came back to write it, but then i got sick again and i started writing this more differently than my direction. i got frustrated so i stopped for a while then i forgot about it and then i wanted to finish it.

oh, also kento and you speak danish at home, because you both feel like a secret language between you and him. gojo is also retired — thats going to be in us and them!!! thank you so much for waiting!!! thank you for reading too!!! i love you all !!! see you in the gojo fic (second place) <3

main masterlist

what a wonderful world masterlist

i love you so | say so

next: little wonders

HE THOUGHT THAT HE WOULD ALWAYS BE NONCHALANT. Nanami Kento never thought he’d be the type to get jealous. After all, he prided himself on being calm and composed, grounded in logic.

But lately, things have changed. You had changed—or rather, something about you had. At least that’s what he noticed now that you’ve come back to Tokyo, so he could become a mentor to the kids with Gojo’s retirement. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Nanami Kento had finally left the endless grind of Jujutsu society, traded the blood and curses for a quiet life in Malaysia, far from the threat of battle.

But when he got that call, it felt like the past had come clawing back, unwilling to let him go. Itadori Yuji’s name on Gojo’s lips stirred something within him—something old, duty-bound, and unwilling to see an innocent youth, especially one with Yuji’s heart, left adrift.

Gojo Satoru's concern was about more than just Yuji, though. Nanami listened as the retired special grade sorcerer, sitting on a cruise across the globe, rattled off frustrations with the new leadership at Jujutsu High and Jujutsu society as a whole. All of it having formed with what he had known from his contacts back at hom.

At the center of it was Usami. That man, the strongest of all first class sorcerers, Usami, who never defied the higher-ups, who prioritized orders and tradition over compassion, whose unfeeling approach Gojo had seen all too often among those aligned with the elders.

Nanami Kento knew the type. They were the very people he’d worked so hard to avoid throughout his career, the type who saw Jujutsu sorcerers as tools more than as people, especially the students.

Now, with Gojo’s absence, Usami had stepped into a more central role at Jujutsu High, and Gojo wasn’t comfortable with it. Why would he? He’s still supporting the remaining conservative factions in Jujutsu High.

There was no other way to feel about it other than this, but concern. The return of a conservative faction, under Gakuganji, would stifle Gojo’s gambles these past few years. Gambles Kento had agreed with, even if not wholeheartedly. 

“I don’t want him making decisions for my students, you know? I’m sure you agree about that with me too.” Gojo said bluntly, his tone carrying the usual lazy confidence but undercut by a genuine concern. “They’ve been through enough. They deserve someone who understands them.” 

Kento could hear Gojo's frustration; it was an unusual tone in the voice of someone who otherwise seemed to brush off his troubles. And in that sentiment, Nanami found himself nodding in agreement. It didn’t sit well with him, either. But what could he do? He is retired now, isn't he? There was no need for this chatter.

Gojo, as though reading his hesitation, chuckled knowingly over the line. “Look, I’m technically retired too, Nanami. I know your feelings about this.” he said with that familiar cheek in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t meddle. Keeps me busy as I get old, you know? Gojo clan head is empty without any drama.” 

There was a pause, and Kento didn’t know what to say. Gojo Satoru, even in their younger years, used his status to continue to advocate for his interests. And Kento didn’t like it as much, he was someone who liked rules, after all.

Even if he agreed with them, he thinks about the context of propriety. But he knows the soul of Gojo’s argument. He agrees with that. Gojo’s voice softened on the other line.

“Don’t you ever want to keep busy too? I mean, especially when your wife’s at her job? You’re both still in the thick of it, in your own ways. Being a house husband doesn’t always satisfy the itch. Before you rebuttal, you know I’m not lying. ”

Nanami sighed. Gojo’s words struck a nerve. He’s not wrong. Genmei–san also works still, helping out at temples when she has the time. Most of the time, if they weren’t on holiday, it would be Gojo waiting at home and taking care of their children. For a moment, Nanami sat down to think about it properly. 

You were deeply invested in your work as a novelist. You adore it, you truly do. But often, it’s hard for you to deal with. You were just as much an independent person in your own right and that was your own mission, your own purpose.

He admired you for that, but there were times when he found himself wondering about his place. He adores taking care of you, he adores being by your side all the time. He adores being your house–husband. 

But he often questions, besides that, away from the frontline, away from Jujutsu, what was his purpose now? Was he truly content to let the world of sorcery continue without him, even if it meant leaving those like Yuji to struggle without guidance? Or the kids? What can he do for them? What can he do now?

“Fine, Gojo.” Nanami finally muttered. “I’ll look into it. Just… don’t get used to this.” He could practically hear Gojo’s grin over the line, a smug sort of satisfaction that Nanami knew all too well.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Gojo replied smoothly in response. “But I’ll admit, it’s good to have you back, even if just for a little while.”

And so, he tried to muster the courage to tell you about what he had agreed to. Dinner was a warm, familiar ritual together. And by the beachside in Kuantan, everything about it was a wonder to behold.

The sounds of clinking plates and gentle conversation filled the room, and the two of you settled into the ease of being home together, savoring the evening without the rush of tomorrow hanging over you. 

You were halfway through telling him about something small that had happened during your day at the market when he cleared his throat, a subtle shift in his usual, deliberate movements. His fingers, wrapped around his glass, seemed to tighten slightly. You looked at him a little bit confused. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, my love.” he began, meeting your gaze with a calm determination. "I’ve decided… to return to Tokyo." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before he continued. "Jujutsu High needs someone to look after the first years. With Gojo retired, things are… in flux."

You blinked, feeling a jolt of surprise, but before you could fully react, he was already explaining, his tone quickening just a touch, as if he’d anticipated your questions. It was rare for your husband to be this way, to ramble about and have his bright brown eyes shake as he looked at you with a shaken uncertainty. But you know when he becomes this way, it’s because of things he cares about.

“It’s not active service, don’t worry about that, my love.” he assured, almost hurriedly, his hand drifting toward yours in an unspoken promise. “I’m not heading back into the field. It’s only to mentor the kids, give them someone they can rely on. They deserve that, especially now.”

You saw his resolve deepen as he spoke of them, the younger students who’d become like family over the years. His voice softened, and you could tell this wasn’t just about filling Gojo’s shoes. 

"I can’t abandon Yuji, he’s already without someone. I can’t really do much more damage by leaving him without someone." he said with quiet conviction, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you understood. 

“Kento—”

"I know how much he’s been through, and… I don’t want him facing it alone. Nobara, too—she’s so headstrong. She’ll need someone she can turn to, someone to help her channel all that fire. And Gojo’s bound to ask for updates on Fushiguro all the time. You know how he is with him. With them. I just….I just don’t want them to feel so alone about this at all. Usami is gaining some foothold and the conservatives are just….its complicated.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened, watching the familiar strength in his face, the quiet protector in him springing back to life. Passion was beautiful in your husband. Seeing even more alive with such caring passion makes you happy.

His gaze held yours, steady and honest, a reassurance that his heart was set on this, that he wasn’t leaving you behind but rather doing what he felt was right, the only thing that made sense.

You let the warmth you felt for him reflect in your smile, reaching for his hand as it rested between you. “Of course, Kento.” you replied softly, squeezing his fingers with encouragement. “They couldn’t have anyone better.”

A soft exhale escaped him, the tension leaving his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back. Relief and gratitude flickered across his face, the subtle shift of a man who didn’t often ask for things but knew he’d been understood completely. There was no need for grand gestures or lengthy explanations between the two of you; your silent agreement spoke volumes.

The conversation turned to lighter things, back to the warmth of dinner. But every so often, you caught his expression softening, a look of contentment and resolve, knowing he was about to embark on something meaningful, not just for him, but for those who needed him.

But of course, that also came with cons.

The move to Tokyo was a calm one.

But it was also a disastrous one, in his mind.

You were both too busy to spend time together.

The shift was subtle at first. Kento began to spend more and more hours at Jujutsu High, guiding the first years, sharing his experience, and quietly observing their progress. He’d come home later than usual, sometimes with papers under his arm and a faint weariness in his expression that he tried to mask with a smile. 

Meanwhile, you were pouring yourself into your new book, the words and ideas flowing freely under the careful guidance of your new editor. It was an exciting time, both for your work and for him. There was a renaissance in your paths to life blossoming in your efforts. But there was a toll, a quiet distance neither of you fully acknowledged.

One evening, you noticed the weight in his gaze as he joined you at the table. He seemed quieter, his usual calm presence tinged with something else; something like sadness. You set down your work, reaching across to hold his hand, catching the faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“Things have been so busy lately, my love.” he murmured, his voice soft, almost reluctant to admit it aloud. “I miss being able to spend more time with you.”

Your heart softened at his honesty, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I miss it too, Kento.” you replied, meeting his gaze with reassurance. “But you know how this is… the busy season. Soon, I’ll be back to post-writing mode, and we’ll have more time to do things together. This won’t last forever.”

He nodded, his lips curling into a small, understanding smile. “You’re right. It’s just… different.” There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, but it was short-lived.

As the weeks went on, your new editor’s involvement became more intense, often stretching into late-night calls or spontaneous meetings that kept you occupied well beyond the hours you’d once spent with Kento.

He’d catch you on the phone, your voice animated in a way that was hard to miss, even as he stood in the doorway waiting for a chance to say goodnight. It was hard to deal with, day by day.

But he said nothing, keeping his feelings carefully hidden behind the same mask of calm he’d worn so well for years. But you could sense it, the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on you just a little longer.

It was as if he was hoping you’d glance up, catch his eye, and read the unspoken questions there. In the quiet moments, he’d watch you, a silent longing in his gaze, feeling the bittersweet ache of being close but somehow… not close enough.

It was an unspoken tension, a soft thread pulled too tight between the two of you. And though he never voiced it, you began to sense how much he missed you—not just physically, but in all the little moments you once shared, now slipping through his fingers.

After all, you guys were all you truly had in all these times. He would always crave everything about you. About loving you, about being close to you. Just you. He missed you.

Nanam Kento was sure that he hadi tried to be patient. He reminded himself, over and over, that this was temporary, just a busy period that would eventually pass. He knew how much this book meant to you and understood how important it was to have an editor who could match your energy and vision. 

But despite all his quiet resolve, he couldn’t ignore the pang of envy that crept in every time he saw you light up, laughing or discussing something animatedly over the phone.

The way you and your editor connected; it was undeniable. The easy flow between you two, the synergy that seemed to bridge ideas without any need for words, stirred something unsettled in him.

He would come home from a long day at Jujutsu high, weary but hopeful to catch up with you. Instead, he’d often find you mid-call, your voice carrying hints of excitement he hadn’t heard in a while. You’d wave him a quick greeting, mouthing that you’d be off soon, but “soon” stretched, and his footsteps grew slower on his way to your side.

It wasn’t that he doubted you or the love between you two. He trusted you deeply. But the way you seemed to come alive with this editor… it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He knew you and this person worked well together, that they understood your work and helped bring out your best ideas. 

He understood it logically, but logic did little to quell the feeling of being left on the sidelines. After all, it was a feeling he recognized too well—the familiar ache of watching from a distance, of caring deeply and yet holding his tongue.

Some nights, he’d sit across from you at dinner, glancing up occasionally, only to see you distracted, your mind clearly still on your work. Or you’d mention a new idea your editor had suggested, a change you hadn’t considered but were now eager to explore.

And though he nodded, offering his encouragement, he couldn’t shake the thought: When was the last time I could make her smile like that?

As the weeks went by, he felt it more keenly, this quiet envy of the time you spent together. It wasn’t that he begrudged you for the partnership, but he couldn’t help wishing that he could have more of that side of you for himself; the side that was vibrant and full of life, that spark of curiosity and joy he’d always adored.

Nanami Kento wasn’t one to give voice to his insecurities easily, and he knew how silly he might sound, envious over something so innocent. He was a secured man, in all the ways he knew he was. He knew that too well. Yet as much as he told himself it was foolish, the feeling lingered.

So he held back, watching you in those moments with a quiet ache, determined to keep his envy hidden. He’d stay later at the school, throw himself into lesson planning, sometimes even offer to cover additional duties, as though it might distract him. But each time he came home, seeing you lost in conversation or laughter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, for now, a part of you belonged to someone else.

He told himself it was just work. You had deadlines; he understood that. But there was something else. Whenever your phone pinged with a message, you’d check it quickly, smile to yourself, then type out a reply, sometimes with a small laugh or a shake of your head. And every time, he’d feel a sharp pang of something foreign to him: jealousy.

Kento tried to reason with himself. You were his wife, and he trusted you implicitly. You had built a life together, one based on love, understanding, and mutual respect. But that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in his chest whenever he saw you so absorbed in those messages or whenever he saw that spark of excitement in your eyes when you talked about the feedback your editor gave you.

He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake the thought. When he saw you typing away late into the evening, smiling at the screen, a quiet worry settled in the back of his mind. What was this editor like? Why did their input seem to matter so much to you? And why did Kento, who usually approached everything in life with composure, find himself so deeply unsettled?

Tonight, though, he’d had enough. He stood in the doorway to your office, watching you as you leaned over your laptop, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fully immersed in your work.

You looked beautiful, more beautiful than ever, but that same nagging feeling of jealousy coiled tighter in his chest. And before he could stop himself, something in him just snapped.

“So, my love.” he said, his voice calm yet edged with tension. “Another late night, huh?”

“Yeah, it would seem so!” You retort, noticing him. “You’ve just come home?”

“Just a while ago.” He says to you, watching you turn your head back to your computer. You were typing even faster. He was sure you were trying to finish it, now that he was home.

You looked up once again, a soft smile lighting up your face. “I didn’t even hear you come in. You came in as sly as a little cat!” You stretched, setting aside your laptop and glancing at him warmly. “I was just going over some notes. The editor had a few thoughts on the latest chapter.”

”Did he have any suggestions for this part?" he asked, casually trying to keep his tone even as he nodded toward your screen.

You looked up, clearly surprised. "Who, my editor?"

"Yeah, my love." he said, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he leaned against the doorframe. "It just seems like he's been really… involved in your work lately."

You tilted your head, noticing the unusual tension in his voice, the way his words held a heaviness that wasn’t like him. “Well, that’s what they’re paid to do, you know?” you replied gently, hoping to keep things light, maybe coax a smile out of him. 

But his expression didn’t shift. You could tell almost immediately. Instead, his eyes held a quiet, guarded intensity that stopped you in your tracks. Realizing this was more than a casual remark, you closed your laptop, giving him your full attention.

“Kento… Is something wrong?” you asked, voice soft, searching his face for a sign of what was going on inside him.

He crossed his arms, hesitating. For a moment, he almost looked as if he wanted to brush it off, to go back to his usual collected demeanor, but he stopped. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that caught you off guard. 

“I know it’s irrational, and I know it’s probably nothing.” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But… I don’t like seeing you so wrapped up in this person’s feedback. You’ve been smiling at your phone more than you do at me lately, and I’m… not exactly used to feeling like this.”

The vulnerability in his words, the admission from someone usually so calm and composed, made your heart soften instantly. You reached out, covering his hand with yours, feeling the tension there, the way his fingers reflexively squeezed back. 

“Kento, baby.” you said, voice warm. “You don’t have to feel that way. No editor or anyone else could ever mean as much to me as you do. None of them are you. There’s only one of you, you know?”

He relaxed just a little, his shoulders easing as he let your words sink in. But he didn’t let go of that guarded look, the one that still held a hint of uncertainty. “Then why does it feel like I’m… competing for your attention?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a simple question, but the way he asked it, with a vulnerability that you knew he rarely revealed, struck you deeply.

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I didn’t realize how it looked.” you admitted, your thumb brushing lightly along his hand. “It’s just… I got excited about the project, and the new feedback’s been inspiring. But…I’m so sorry for not noticing or making you feel that way, baby.” 

You reached out, tracing a gentle hand down his arm, feeling the tension start to melt away as you looked into his eyes. “None of that compares to what I have with you. I hope you know that.  You’re the one I come home to, Kento. You’re the one who matters most. I love you. Only you.”

He seemed to exhale, his expression softening. You could see the quiet relief in his eyes, the way the tension finally started to lift, and it made you want to close whatever lingering distance was left between you. And then, his voice, low and almost hesitant, broke the silence.

“Tell me, my love.” he whispered, barely above a murmur. “Tell me that you want me. Just… say it.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice, that rare openness he was offering, made your heart ache in the best way. You don’t think you had ever felt like this before Kento. But every day since then, your heart has created more motions you could never understand. And you know, you just knew – it was because you loved him more than anything in life. 

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again. 

Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him.

“Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and before either of you could say another word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. The warmth you had come to hold onto in this life. 

You sank into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your ear. There was a familiar comfort there, a quiet strength in his embrace, that had always felt like home.

For a few moments, you both stayed that way, close and quiet, as if the world outside had faded and left only the two of you. He lifted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead/

Kento murmured into your hair, his voice gentle. “Promise me you’ll take a break from work. I’ll do it too. We’ll spend time together. Just us. No one else.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Of course, my baby. I can postpone everything else. If it’s you, everything else can wait. My husband being happy is more important to me!” you whispered.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, and he held you a little tighter, his own smile finally breaking through, his usual calm confidence restored. For Kento, there was no greater feeling than knowing you were his and that you were here, sharing this quiet, peaceful moment with him.

As he held you close, he felt a deep contentment, one he rarely allowed himself to savor. The jealousy that had once gripped him faded entirely, replaced by a quiet certainty. Of course there should be. Why wouldn't there be?

The certainty that your love, your life together, was the one thing in the world he could rely on. That he was sure. You love him, after all. And as he closed his eyes, resting his chin atop your head, he silently thanked the universe for you, for this love that was more real, more enduring, than any fleeting worry or passing jealousy.

This, he thought to himself, was where he belonged. 

Right here, in this moment, in your arms.

Nowhere else can compare to this.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AND HAVE A PICNIC. The night before you had agreed that it would be nice to enjoy the Tokyo sun, and have a picnic at the park. You talked about a cat cafe nearby too. He talked about how the yakisoba dish was introduced at his favorite restaurant. There were new spots popping out in Tokyo for you both to check out.

That’s what you agreed on. Today was supposed to be simple, a peaceful day just to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But the moment you woke up and felt his gaze linger a bit longer.

Slowly, smoothly, you could feel his hand finding the curve of your waist, you knew that quiet was about to turn into something much more intense. You knew your husband too well. When he’s hungry — he remains hungry.

He pulled you close, his grip both gentle and possessive as his eyes darkened. “Mine, only mine.” he murmured, the word almost a growl, his fingers tracing your skin like he wanted to memorize every part of you. 

The world around you melted away as he took his time, every kiss and touch filled with a need that made your heart race. You let him, giving himself over as he murmured softly against your skin, “My pretty wife… just for me.”

You could feel him stretching you out so perfectly with his fingers, causing you to moan loudly. Your husband was good, too good at everything he does. But when it comes to you, he was beyond excellent. Your eyes felt hazy as he looked at you with that predatory stare. You held him even closer, your moan getting louder. 

Your head turns awry with the high as you continue to ride his fingers as he kisses your neck, you're stuck against the wall occupied by him. No one, not even your previous lovers, those green boy boyfriends were able to make you feel this good.

No one could make you feel this way. Only him. Only your husband, your Kento. And every single time, he knew it. Even with his jealousy, he knew it. You were always going to fold when it’s him. Only him. 

“K–Kento.” you moan out, your voice breathless as you rock against his fingers, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. “You’re… you’re… oh—”

His eyes darken with desire, and a sly smile creeps onto his lips. “That’s it, my love.” he replies, his voice low and filled with warmth.

He peppered soft kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fire inside you that burned brighter with every passing second. His fingers pushed deeper, faster, and you felt so incredibly full, the exquisite stretch making your head spin.

“Come. Come for me.” he urged, his words wrapping around you like a spell, both a command and an invitation. The way he held you against the wall, the heat radiating from his body, only heightened the electric connection between you.

Every kiss he placed on your skin felt like a promise, an affirmation of the bond you shared. No one else had ever made you feel this way; so cherished and desired. With him, you were always ready to surrender completely, to give in to the overwhelming pleasure that built within you. Nothing else can compare with what you feel for your husband. Nothing. 

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body responding instinctively to his every touch. He was so good at remembering where to touch you next. After being together for this long, Kento knew your body even better than you. He knows how to make you cry, how to make you moan. He knows everything.

“Kento.” you gasped, the sound a mix of pleasure and longing, and as his fingers curled just right, that coil finally snapped. Your body shuddered, a wave of bliss crashing over you, leaving you breathless as you surrendered to the moment, lost in the magic of him.

You looked up at him, and his gaze was intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger that sent a rush of warmth through you. Without a word, he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with a fervor that reignited the fire within. 

His movements were slow at first, but as he pushed his fingers one by one, even deeper, your moans escaped you uncontrollably, pulling him closer as you urged him on, wanting nothing more than to feel every bit of him.

Somehow, you had been able to accommodate every tight, muscular finger in his hand. And you knew it felt good. He knew it felt good. Because he knew just what to do. No one else would. Only Kento would.

He responded with a low, pleased growl, the sound reverberating through his chest as his free hand tightened around your hip, holding you possessively against him.

There was an undeniable power in the way he claimed you, every inch of his touch a reminder of the connection you shared. You felt cherished and owned, completely his in this intimate moment.

Each thrust of his fingers sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, each stroke deliberate and filled with purpose. Your body responded eagerly, arching into him as you surrendered fully to the sensations, every moan escaping your lips urging him on.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only you, him, and the electric energy that wrapped around you both, binding you together in a rhythm that felt both primal and tender.

As the intensity of the moment deepened, you could feel the heat radiating from him, a tangible connection that anchored you both in a world of your own. His lips traveled down to your neck, trailing kisses that ignited your skin, leaving behind a trail of fire. You could feel the way he held you, his grip firm yet gentle, and it made you crave more, the need building inside you like a rising tide.

“Just like that, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing. The sound of his voice sent a thrill through you, adding to the layers of pleasure that enveloped you.

He continued to move his fingers with a deliberate slowness, coaxing every last ounce of ecstasy from your body. Each time he pushed deeper, you gasped, the sensations pulling you closer to the edge once again.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could merge your bodies into one. Drool started to form from your lips as he thrusted even deeper, pleasure repetitive in your lips to his ears. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed making a mess of you way too much. 

“K–kento. Oh my….g—oddddd…..” you breathed, the urgency in your voice echoing your desire. You needed him, all of him, and you wanted to feel that connection intensify. He looked into your eyes, and in that moment, you saw the depth of his love mirrored in his gaze, a promise that went beyond the physical.

He quickened his pace slightly, and you felt every pulse of his fingers inside you, each thrust igniting a new wave of pleasure. You could sense the hunger in him, a deep-seated need to feel you unravel beneath him.

“You’re perfect, aren't you?” he said, the words reverberating through you as you lost yourself in the moment. His possessiveness only heightened your arousal, each stroke of his fingers an affirmation that you belonged to him, and he to you.

With every thrust, every kiss, you felt the world around you blur, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of passion. Your bodies moved together as if they were made to fit, every touch syncing perfectly. You surrendered completely, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, pulling you under and lifting you higher.

“Come for me again, my love.” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with desire. You could feel the pressure building once more, and with a desperate need, you clung to him, riding the waves of sensation that coursed through you. 

The world outside faded entirely as you focused on the way he made you feel—alive, cherished, and utterly consumed by the moment. And as you finally tipped over the edge into bliss, you knew that this was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, lost in your shared passion.

As the world outside faded into a distant hum, you and Kento found yourselves enveloped in an intimate cocoon, where it was just the two of you. His gaze held yours, deep and searching, as if he were reading the unspoken words that danced between you. The air was thick with anticipation, and your heart raced in sync with the pulse of the moment.

With a gentle touch, he caressed your cheek, his fingers trailing down to your neck, igniting sparks of warmth beneath his fingertips. The softness of his touch contrasted with the burning desire that simmered between you, creating a perfect tension that left you breathless. You leaned into him, craving the connection that felt both familiar and exhilarating.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with warmth, laced with a hint of playful teasing that made your stomach flutter. You nodded, feeling a rush of trust and excitement wash over you. You knew he would take care of you, just as he always did.

As he shifted closer, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. When he entered you, it was as if time stood still. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy that made you gasp softly. You could feel every inch of him, filling you completely, as he took his time, letting you adjust to the fullness.

Kento's eyes never left yours, and in that moment, you felt utterly cherished. Each movement was deliberate, as if he were savoring the connection between your bodies and the bond you shared. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both surrendered to the rhythm of your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, and you could feel the sincerity in his words.

Those simple words sent a wave of warmth through you, making you feel both desired and loved. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer, as if you could merge your souls together.

He held you firmly, as though afraid to let go, fingers pressing into your skin with a hunger that left no doubt of his intentions. His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, gripping you with an intensity that was both grounding and electric, each touch sparking a heat that made you shiver.

The way he held you was raw and consuming, as though he wanted to memorize the feeling of you beneath his hands, every curve, every softness. He knew everything like the back of his hand/

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against your skin, each kiss he placed making you arch closer, melting into the strength of his hold. The roughness of his grip, his possessive energy, pulled you deeper.

It was like he was marking you as his, his touch heavy with a passion that left you breathless. He looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense, a silent promise of everything he wanted to give, everything he wanted to take.

The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, his warmth surrounding you, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way. Every inch of you felt alive under his touch, every nerve alight with a need that only he could satisfy.

His hands continued to explore, leaving trails of warmth, his touch demanding yet tender, as if reassuring you that he was there, and you were his.

The heat between you intensified, his hands roaming slowly, leaving a trail of tingling warmth wherever they went. You trembled, feeling the power behind every touch, every possessive whisper.

You could feel him drinking in the sight of you, holding you close as if he didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t rushed; it was filled with a focused, possessive affection that only made you crave him more.

Time blurred as his movements became a mix of gentleness and intensity. His hands slid lower, holding you firmly, possessively, as he whispered your name.

His words washed over you, filled with longing and satisfaction as he whispered, “You’re mine. Only mine.” Each soft murmur made your breath catch, his voice rough with devotion.

Your husband had always had a way of grounding you, pulling you back to him in the moments you needed it most. He held you with a quiet strength, his touches both comforting and electric, each caress more deliberate than the last.

When the busy schedules and late nights began to take their toll, you’d find yourself in his arms, feeling the tension melt away as he made you his world.

He was possessive in the gentlest way, his lips tracing along your skin, his voice murmuring low, tender words that anchored you to the present.

"Mine, mine." he'd say, over and over, his voice a husky whisper as he pressed deeper, slow and unhurried, savoring each moment. "My beautiful wife, my one and only."

You let yourself unravel under his touch, feeling each surge of pleasure as he pulled you closer, his mouth finding yours in heated kisses, his hands firm as they held you against him. The world outside faded, and there was only him—each movement, each shudder of pleasure woven with his love and need for you.

And as your body trembled, giving in to the pleasure he offered, he’d whisper words that sent warmth spiraling through you: His only. His good girl. His good little wife.

With every pulse and every breath, he made you his, claiming you in the way only he could, and you felt yourself give in, letting him take what he needed, knowing that he was yours just as deeply.

In these moments, he was entirely yours, just as you were his, both of you wrapped up in a world where only the two of you existed. And as he held you close, that familiar need he had for you was clear in his eyes, you could feel the depth of his love; the way he wanted you, needed you—all pouring out with each possessive word and touch.

Every thrust was slow and measured, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose, as if Kento were painting a masterpiece with your bodies.

He took his time, carefully crafting a rhythm that drew you both closer to the edge of ecstasy, like the steady buildup of a powerful wave ready to crash upon the shore. Each moment felt like an eternity, stretched and molded by his touch, igniting every nerve ending with heat and longing.

Kento relished in the way you responded to him, the way your body quivered beneath him, your breaths coming in soft gasps that filled the space between you.

He liked making you wait, savoring the way your eyes widened in need and your body writhed, pleading for more. The way you mewled over and over again, lost in the depths of desire, was music to his ears, a siren call that drove him further into the depths of his own hunger for you.

“Please, Kento. More. More—” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation, the need pooling in the pit of your stomach. Each word was a plea, a yearning that echoed in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“P–please….pleaseeeee…..”

A teasing smile played on his lips as he leaned down, his breath warm against your neck. He bit gently into your flesh, a sweet sting that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to moan, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. 

“Enjoy it, my love. Enjoy the slow burn.” he murmured, his voice low and husky, wrapping around you like a silken ribbon. “Let’s have fun, hm?”

His words were a command and a caress, urging you to embrace the intensity of the moment. The way he spoke your name, the way he held you, felt like a tether pulling you deeper into the shared experience. You were both caught in a delicate dance, a balance of power and surrender, where every pause and every gentle caress built anticipation.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined, lost in the growing tension between your bodies. Kento was in control, but you loved it. You loved the way he took his time, how each thrust felt like an exploration, a journey into the very essence of what it meant to be together.

He would withdraw slightly, teasing you with the promise of more, before plunging back into you with a slow, deliberate push that sent sparks of pleasure radiating from the core of your being.

Each pulse of his body against yours was a reminder of his possession, of the bond you shared that was both beautiful and intoxicating. The slow burn he created enveloped you, igniting your senses and drawing you closer to the precipice of your desires. You could feel the heat building within you, an insistent wave that throbbed and twisted, desperate for release.

“Just like that, my love.” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Let it build. Let it consume you.”

You let his words command you, letting them wash over you as you melted into the sensations. Every tear that fell was a blessing of pleasure and the pain mingling together, a sweet agony that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

You could feel your heart racing, your breaths quickening, as you approached that sweet, familiar edge, caught between the bliss of the moment and the urgency of your need.

With every deep stroke, you felt a delicious tension building within you, a tightness that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Each time he filled you completely, it ignited a spark of pleasure that resonated deep in your core, drawing soft gasps from your lips. Your husband was a great lover. Perhaps the best there ever was. 

You surrendered to him fully, giving yourself over to the sensations that enveloped you. The outside world faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you entwined in this intimate dance. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, made every moment feel precious. 

You can only focus on him. Only him. He was what mattered. The way his eyes held yours, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes of his love and desire.

You could write as many beautiful works as you could ever want. But perhaps the most beautiful creation in your life was him. Loving Nanami Kento was your most beautiful creation.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel. It was a combination of love and raw passion, an electric current that flowed between you, binding you together in a way that felt profoundly intimate.

Every caress of his hands, every whispered word, heightened your awareness of him, igniting your senses and making you acutely aware of the depth of your connection.

You could feel his warmth enveloping you, a comforting presence that made you feel safe yet desired. The way he moved, the way he took his time to explore every inch of you, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection and longing.

With each thrust, you could feel your bodies communicating in a language all your own, a silent exchange that deepened the bond between you.

As you both lost yourselves in each other, the outside world faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you entwined in a universe of your own making.

The air around you thickened with anticipation, and every touch felt electric, as if the very essence of your connection pulsed between you. As if you truly belonged together.

You could sense the tension coiling tighter, each movement a languid dance that drew you deeper into an exquisite rhythm, a beautiful synergy that melded your souls together and ignited a fire within you that felt utterly intoxicating.

“Kento, I’m coming. I’m so close.” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as desire swirled through your veins.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, his lips soft yet insistent, igniting a cascade of shivers that traveled down your spine. “Come for me, baby. Let go.” he urged, his voice low and rich with promise, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

That was when he shifted, his movements quickening, a sudden urgency that sent your heart racing. The delicious friction intensified, and with each thrust, the world outside vanished completely, leaving only the two of you in a haze of passion. 

Every kiss, every whisper, every pulse of his body against yours propelled you closer to that blissful edge, where pleasure and surrender intertwined, drawing you both into a beautiful climax that promised to sweep you away entirely.

As Kento quickened his pace, the urgency of his movements sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building to a peak that felt both thrilling and inevitable.

The air around you crackled with electricity, every sensation heightened as he pressed deeper, claiming you in a way that made your heart race and your body ache for more. His breaths came in ragged gasps, mingling with the sound of skin against skin, each thrust driving you further into a euphoric haze.

“My love, I’m so close.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m….I’m gonna come.”

You could see the raw need in his gaze, the way he was completely lost in the moment, just as you were. It was intoxicating to know that you had this effect on him, that you could pull him into this blissful space where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

“I want you, baby.” you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency as you felt that familiar coil tightening within you. “I need you.”

“D’ you want me inside, hm? Where do you want me?”

You moan, thinking about how hot it was. How hotter it would be to have him inside of you. “I-inside me. Please. Please. Make me full.”

“Y’d like that? You want me to make you full of me, my love?”

“Yes, yes, o–oh, yes—”

With a low growl, Kento shifted his focus, pushing into you with a deep, purposeful thrust that sent stars dancing behind your eyelids. The world outside was a distant memory, all that existed was the heat building between you, a fire that consumed you both whole.

His movements were rhythmic yet fervent, each push coaxing you closer to the edge, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. It felt so good. It felt way too good and you wanted it to last forever.

“Let go, my love.” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers coursing through your body. “I’m right there with you.”

And then, with a final, deep thrust, you felt him come inside you, warmth flooding you as he released with a low groan, his body pulsing against yours. The sensation was overwhelming—a rush of heat that spread through you, mingling with your own climax as pleasure washed over you in waves, leaving you breathless and trembling benea

th him.

You held on closer to him, taking in a new dawn’s breath.

You were so in love with this man, more than you know. 

And he was the same — he couldn’t get enough of loving you.

“You know, if I had known jealousy would make you like this…” you finally say, your voice still laced with breathlessness as you regain your composure.

The warmth of the moment lingers around you like a soft blanket, and you can feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body. Kento’s kisses trail along your glistening skin, each gentle press of his lips a sweet reminder of the connection you’ve just shared.

His lips are soft against you, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and the scent of your mingled skin fills the air with a heady sweetness that is all-consuming.

“I would get you jealous often, baby.” you tease, a playful smile curving your lips as you look down at him.

Kento pauses, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his expression a mixture of amusement and mock seriousness. “Is that so?” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends a delightful shiver through you. 

The intensity in his eyes is unmistakable, a mix of possessiveness and affection that makes your heart flutter.You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound echoing around you in the intimate space you’ve created together.

“Absolutely. You should see how cute you get when you’re all riled up, baby.” you say, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “Fiesty and all.”

His lips curve into a smirk, and he leans closer, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re lucky I’m not the type to stay jealous for long, my love.” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “But if it means I get to have you like this…” 

His voice trails off, and he plants a series of soft kisses down your neck, each one sending delightful tingles racing across your skin. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to relish the sensations he stirs within you. 

“You’re incorrigible sometimes, Kento.” you whisper, feeling the weight of his affection enveloping you. The playful banter only adds to the intimacy, making it all the more special, as if you were sharing a secret joke that only the two of you understood.

“Only for you, my love.” he replies, his voice sincere as he pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “But really, seeing you light up like that—it’s worth it. Just know I’ll always come back to claim what’s mine.”

epilogue 

As the soft glow of the evening light filtered through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room, you and Kento found yourselves nestled comfortably together. You hadn’t left the bed much since this morning.

And your husband was incredibly happy about that. He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Everything about the room smelt like sex and sweat, that was to be expected. Your husband’s insatiable when he gets into it. 

But the atmosphere was relaxed and intimate, the air filled with the kind of warmth that comes from deep affection. Everything about the aftermath was the passion of lovers who will always be in love.

And you couldn't help but admit that you felt blessed with that. This passion between you and Kento, it will never die. For bitter, for worse, for good and better — you will always have this. You will always be together like this.

After a playful exchange repeating over and over again, you both took breaks in between. For a while, you both watched some television. Kento seems to enjoy Love Island, so he wants to watch the whole series with you now. A little while later, the two of you talked a little bit about the little things you’ve seen and done lately.

Soon enough, you were sure you were hungry. Kento immediately kissed you and went to the kitchen, coming back with some bowls of favorite snacks and some refreshing drinks, on ice.

But of course, he urged you to drink the water most. With all the screaming he’s made you do, he’s a little bit more worried about your voice, 

You both conversed about silly things now, laughing at how Yuji seems to be as silly as ever before. About how Gakuganji seems to continue to be annoyed by Gojo Satoru’s phone calls.

But then he talked about Gojo Satoru expecting another child on the way, albeit accidental. In that moment, you realized it was that moment. So, you took a moment to shift the conversation to that.

“You know, baby…..” you began, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know you’re still busy, I’ve been thinking maybe….just maybe…”

“You know surprises aren’t needed.” He laughs, lowering his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I know, I know.” You roll your eyes playfully but let out a small smile, leaning against his chest. “Don’t you think it’s time we consider having kids soon. I’m really happy to make that happen soon.”

Kento turned to you, his brow raising in playful skepticism, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Is that so? You’re ready to dive into the chaos of parenting, my love? You know it’s a lot of work, right?” He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting, filling the space between you.

You couldn’t help but grin back, your heart fluttering at the prospect. “Of course! But I think it would be so worth it. Just imagine our little ones running around, making messes and keeping us on our toes.”

He smiles at you fondly. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I know so.” You grinned at him. “I can also see you being the doting dad, teaching them all about fighting and how to protect themselves. Or you know, just making some bread from home! I do miss authentic rye bread from an expert in Danish baked goods. Imagine how our kids will feel when they eat it too!”

He laughed, a rich, hearty sound that echoed in the room and made you feel light with joy. “You think so? I suppose you’re right, my love. I can already picture myself getting wrapped around their little fingers. They’d have me wrapped around their hearts in no time.” 

The sincerity in his tone made your heart swell with happiness.

Everything about your husband makes you feel happy everyday.

If life were to teach what happiness looks like, it would be him.

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. “And they’d have your strength and my charm. Can you imagine how adorable they’d be?”

Kento’s expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You know, I’ve always wanted that. A family with you. You make everything better.” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, igniting a sense of hope and love within you.

“So, you’re on board with the idea?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with anticipation.

“Absolutely, my love.” he replied, that playful smirk returning to his face. “But first, I think we need to indulge in another round of this.” 

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and captured your lips in a kiss that sent shivers down your spine. You melted against him, losing yourself in the moment, the kiss deepening as he pulled you closer.

It was intoxicating, filled with a mix of passion and love that made your heart race. Everything about Kento was just a pool you wanna drown in. Everything about him was worth drowning in. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other, a perfect blend of laughter, warmth, and desire.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your cheeks flushed with warmth, Kento looked at you with that glint of mischief in his eyes that you adored.

“Okay, let’s talk about the details later, my love.” he said, grinning widely. “But for now, I think we have some important work to do to ensure that happens.”

With that, he pulled you back into another passionate kiss, laughter bubbling between you as you savored the moment. You felt the electric connection between you, the promise of a beautiful future hanging in the air, ripe with possibilities.

As you both continued to kiss, the playful banter resumed, filled with sweet nothings and playful teasing about the “practice” needed for the future family you envisioned. After all, practice makes perfect.

[cigaretteparfum]

thinking about beast/ars and how much it disappointed me.

[unscripted-if]

DEMO || PINTEREST

Lights…

Camera…

Action!

Those three words, along with the flashing of cameras and screaming of thousands of people, had made up your life for over a decade. Following your rising star into the stratosphere where you could look at where you’ve been upon your lofty perch in the sky. You were the ruler of your universe and there was nothing that’d bring you down…

… Until, of course, there was…

Suddenly in a free fall, without any chance of catching yourself in sight, you’re hurtling back to the ground with only one thought, one goal, in your mind: Find your way back up.

When a new project comes your way, new opportunities arrive with it, but nothing is ever cut and dry within Hollywood. You’ll have to put your all into this movie if you want any chance at salvaging your career.

Try to stay on script…

Unscripted is a slice-of-life interactive fiction where romance, drama, and the trivialities of life intertwine to create your story. Rated 18+ for explicit language, optional sexual content, drug/alcohol use, and violence.

Features

✰ Customizable MC: Name, gender (male, female, non-binary), sexuality, appearance, some of your past projects, and history with a few of the characters.

✰ Maintain your fan base and make sure that they haven’t forgotten about you. Will you earn more as your journey progresses?

✰ Be interviewed from sidewalk reporters to one of the biggest Late Night Shows within America. Just make sure that you make a good impression— there is such a thing as bad publicity after all.

✰ Romance one of the characters that’ll either have the crowd roaring or scratching their heads. Will you find common ground with your sworn rival? Take a chance at love with someone from your past? Give your hot-and-cold manager a shot? Time will tell…

✰ Adopt a new friend that will hopefully make your lonely nights less so.

✰ Rise back to the ranks of Super Stardom and take back your throne.

Romances

The Rival: Angel Sinclair [M/F] — Ever since you arrived in Hollywood, Angel Sinclair has been there. You’re not quite sure when, or where, your rivalry even began, only that it’s made a ton of tabloids rich with the stories they’d print due to it, and you’re even less sure why you keep running into them on the same lot you’re shooting your newest movie. Is it another twisted form of punishment? With an icy exterior that puts the Arctic to shame, you don’t think you’ve ever seen them smile— at least when they’re not in front of the camera or interacting with fans. Will you uncover more as your random run-ins start losing some of their randomness?

Route: Rivals to Lovers.

The Manager: Kieran/Kiera Walker [M/F] — Probably one of the few reasons you’re still where you are. With a keen mind, a sharp eye for detail, and an even sharper tongue, K has never taken it easy on you, and they’re definitely not doing so now. While pragmatic about their approach, they’re not afraid to tell you what they think, when the time calls for it, which is something that’s definitely caused some tension in the past. Still, you don’t know what you’d do without them; as they’ve stayed steadily by your side through it all. And you don’t think they’re going anywhere anytime soon.

Route: Slow Burn.

The Director: Spencer Hale [M/F] — Last Laugh, the title of the movie you’re now part of, is the passion project that Spencer has been working on for years; trying tirelessly to get it to the silver screen. You would know— after all you were there when they began to write it back in college. Despite not having seen them in years, the gentle look in their eyes hasn’t shifted in the slightest; even if it is a bit more wary now, they don’t hesitate in offering you the same level of kindness as before. Though, even that, still feels different, wrong somehow. Can you recover what’s been lost between you? Or will you forever be two ships passing in the night?

Route: Ex-Best Friend/Lover (can choose if they were your lover or not) || Second Chances

The Newcomer: Cameron/Carmen Rivera [M/F] — An up-and-coming star within Hollywood from the music scene. Having wanted to take a shot at the silver screen for years it’s only with this project that they’ve finally been given the chance— cast as your love interest, no less. You’re not too sure what to make of them. From everything you’ve read they’re sunshine incarnate, with a beaming smile always on their lips, that completely contradicts the darker colors that they typically wear. Something tells you, an almost bone deep intuition, that they’re an array of contradictions all rolled up into one package. Will you ever be able to uncover any of them?

Route: First Love (to them) || Age Gap

The Bodyguard: Roman Locke [M/F] — With a penchant to wear nothing but black, sometimes with muted tones of gray thrown in, you don’t know much about the individual that’s been guarding you with their life for the last five years. Only their stellar history in the Navy, coupled with a possible connection to being a CIA Agent, though that’s never been confirmed, and the other rudimentary facets of their past that any employer needs to know. However, even if they rarely speak, you know that you’re in more than capable hands and that they take their job seriously. But what happens when that professional facade begins to crack?

Route: Bodyguard Romance.

The Assistant: Harley Park [M/F] — Someone who’s very good at their job while also being everywhere and nowhere all at once. You don’t know if they’ll ever get over the embarrassment of your first meeting— with them being in a fandom shirt from a project you had done a couple of years before, with you at center stage on it. With an undeniable charm, if a bit awkward in their approach, Harley is definitely someone that’d you miss interacting with once you got the chance to do so. You just have to get them to actually interact with you first.

Route: Oblivious Love.

[whitecreekvalley-if]

[ Demo TBA ] • Character descriptions • Pinterest •

Genres: Slice of life, drama, mystery, romance

WCV is rated 18+ for explicit language, violence, alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content.

Life's taken a nosedive—no apartment, no job, no friends. Desperation pushes you to cling to a chance from a kindly stranger offering a ticket to a town hidden beyond mountains and plains, a place people don't seek but always seem to need.

Welcome to Whitecreek Valley, where the Brass Pine Ranch needs your unique skills to mend a crumbling homestead, and a crumbling family. As you tackle the decay of the ranch and the town alongside the rancher's son, deeper troubles emerge—livestock falling ill sparks fears of a town on the brink of extinction. Can you navigate this community, help them rejuvenate, or will it become another link in the list of ghost towns of America's Wikipedia page?

FEATURES

Customization: Appearance, personality, gender & sexuality, what job they had before, their hobbies, etc. Choose how they feel about being a farmhand, how they're adjusting to the rural life, and - with your choices - how the town as a whole sees them. Are they part of the community or an perpetual outsider?

Skills: Depending on your previous job, you'll have a unique set of skills to help the community. Choose to learn new skills, like woodworking, bronc riding, or sheep shearing, to mention a few.

Animal husbandry: The distances around Whitecreek Valley are hefty, so it's necessary to have at least a horse to get around. Choose your favorite out of a cast of individual equines, each with their own personalities. Also, help a calf into this world and realize how fun it is to raise a baby cow! As long as you're in good standing with the rest of the herd, of course.

Rebuilding: Try your best to rebuild the Brass Pine ranch, and the town adjacent. The better job you manage, the more opportunities (and challenges) come your way.

Community outreach: A dying town is still home, and there are stories to be heard, problems to solve. Lend a helping hand to your new community and see how one kindness can pay itself back.

Romance: Not everyone in town is adverse to strangers, and if your heart yearns romance, there is a chance for a spark along the way. Just be careful as to who you're trying to woo in front of whom. Small town gossips, we've all seen it.

Mystery: There's something hanging over the valley, like a rot in the air. Why are people moving out? Why are exports not moving out? And who's behind the animals getting sick? Don you detective hat and lend a hand to the entire four local police officers working the bizarre case.

THE LOCALS (RO'S)

THE RANCHER'S SON

Mason "Mace" Gannon - 27 - he/him

He used to be so much fun. I miss hanging out with him, out by the bonfires. He'd always make everyone feel so included and happy, and oh, that homemade cider he'd bring? Warmed us up on those chilly late fall nights, when we had nothing else to do. Did I tell you about the time he got us all to go skinny dipping? He was such a charmer, I wonder --

Imagine Mace as your human golden retriever – the guy who's a blast to be around, a bit mischievous, and the first to rush to your aid whenever you need it. After being gone for five years to live his rodeo dreams, he's back, now the sole caretaker of the family ranch in his hometown. He goes to great lengths to keep his personal issues personal, and it's the butt of many jokes how he's always there to help others but has the worst time asking for help himself.

He's you boss, and probably one of the best you'll ever get. Just don't pay mind to the spats between him and his dad.

THE BARTENDER

Alice Marks - 25 - she/her

Alice, she's a feisty one! Like her poppa, rest his soul. How I love the drinks she comes up with at the bar, and that horse of hers! She could go into rodeo, but I don't think after what happened with her pa... Oh, but she's a wonder! Always there with a quip, how they drive her suitors mad. Good thing she stopped with the talk about moving away, the town would be so dull without her!

Alice is the town's most known inhabitant, running the show from the only bar in town, which she just happens to own. Her mind is like a machine for fun, and she's the brain behind all the pop-up events and happenings around town. Sure, she can be a bit like a hurricane of enthusiasm, but hey, that's Alice for you. If the town had a social heartbeat, it'd be Alice – the vibrant, smartass soul making everyday life feel like a blessing.

THE DEPUTY

Word of the wise: Never challenge Alice to a drinking game. You will lose, spectacularly, and it'll all be on film.

Judge Gannon - 34 - he/him

Judge is a bit strange, don't you think? He just vanished as soon as he turned eighteen and popped back out of nowhere! That must've been, let's see... Five years ago? He doesn't spend much time with us commoners though, but I think I've seen him at the bar once or twice. I don't actually think he knows how to make nice with people, he always has that glower on. Gets it from his dad, let me tell you --

Bold and straight to the point, Judge isn't out here trying to be intimidating – it just kinda happens. If his brother is a golden retriever, he's definitely the doberman of the family. He's got this brash, no-nonsense vibe that some folks mistake for arrogance, especially when they try laying on the charm and he's not having it. He steers clear of small talk unless it involves his job, and when duty calls, he's more than ready to throw down to protect his town and county.

There's this local urban legend that he cracked a smile once, but it's like spotting a unicorn – not everyone's buying it.

THE LAWYER

Mercedes "Sadie" Diáz - 32 - she/her

The new girl, yes! Oh, a beauty! And so curious. I do love sitting down with her though, oh the stories she brings from the big city, so intriguing! I hear she finds our town intriguing too, the mayor once - don't tell anyone I told you this - the mayor once said he caught her breaking into the city hall archives! I know, scandalous, but good on her, maybe now someone will argue that my neighbors fence post --

Sadie, the big-shot lawyer from the city, doing her solo act in town. When she's not in court, folks are lining up just to get a piece of the urban tales she's got. A trailblazer and truth-seeker, she's got this knack for poking her nose where it probably shouldn't be, and surprise, she knows more local secrets than the town gossip. Sure, she's all passionate and calculated, a bit out of sync with the town's warmth, but hey, that logical mind of hers might just shake things up and get the town back on track.

It's a well known fact that she could get access to places with the right documents, but she herself has said it's more fun to pick locks. Go figure.

LIST OF MAJOR NPCs

LIST OF MINOR NPCs

[luvknow]

sanguine satellite | lee minho

Summary: The last time you saw Minho was five years ago when you rejected him to live out the rest of your twenties in the city. The next time you see him is on your birthday with another woman in his arms, and it sparked everything that was good, bad, and ugly. Now, after years of not being in each other’s lives, Minho tries to repair the friendship he broke while you fight your changing feelings. As you struggle navigating your friendship with him, you struggle more to navigate being single in this next stage of your life. Characters: Lee Minho x fem!Reader, feat. other idols Genre: friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, romance, angst, emotional hurt with comfort, happy ending, slice of life Additional warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, food, aged up a bit and in turn age insecurity, a lot of mentions of a best friend with another idol WC: 18.1k

Today was a pivotal day in the office. Quarter two earnings were released to the public and other divisions of the company and, well, let’s just say with the increasing rise in inflation and the impending recession that everyone refuses to acknowledge, no one wants to buy anything. As a result, the earnings reported negative and stocks dipped, morale was low, and to top it off, it was only Monday.

In a way, this was a metaphor for your life; a tumbleweed of all things that could go wrong did go wrong and formed into an amalgamation of nothing to show for. Some people found value in the mundane, but this was supposed to be the peak of your career, your magnum opus, before progress plateaued and you couldn’t stand the idea of not feeling enriched. To wake up, leave, work, and go home was the reason you wanted to leave your home in the first place for something richer in the heart of the city. But you felt defeated after clocking out at 8:30 PM and slumped on the seat in an empty train cart.

The view of the lively apartment high rises and the warm light of slow brick-and-mortars made the late night train rides worth the twenty minutes. Work wasn’t always this draining, but after climbing the corporate ladder, more money meant more responsibilities and it quickly drained the light from your eyes as it did with many of your peers and friends. Youth was fleeting and today you felt like Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain to no avail, but at least the train would take you as close to it as it possibly could.

After packing up your life from home five years ago to move with your friends, the only plans twenty-something-year-olds ever had in place were reservations at 9:00 PM because you called the hottest spot the day-of and drinks at the bar next door after clocking out at 5:00 PM. You were young, excited, and hungry for life, barely sober most days and experiencing what it meant to be young; but what must be given, something must also be taken. Now, rent was rising, salary increases were few and far in between, and instead of deciding what martini you should be ordering, you were stuck wondering if being a worker bee individual contributor was worth the lull schedule or if taking the path to management and telling whiny subordinates what to do was worth the salary bump.

You and your friends once joked that stuff like this was what people in their thirties worry about. Today is your thirtieth birthday.

You didn’t have time for dinner and once again thanked the real estate Gods who put a restaurant so greasy at the corner of your block that you practically slid on a snail trail to the front door of your loft. So, here you were; eating under-salted french fries, chugging a crispy diet cola, with oil stains on your white button-up, ready to spend the rest of your birthday and probably the rest of your life alone on your overpriced and uncomfortable couch watching the latest drama you’d sob your eyes out to. All you needed now was a pet as your companion and you’d be the whole single-in-your-thirties package. Maybe you’d use that as leverage in your dating apps: looking for a partner, a pet, or both.

After fumbling with the keys, you sighed into your dark, cavernous home and dropped your bag at the door. When you turned on the lights, you saw the ghost of your soul leave your mouth in a loud gasp.

“Surprise!!”

You were greeted with streamers, glitter, balloons, and your closest friends wearing little party hats with their beautiful smiles. You never doubted they remembered, and most wished you happy birthday at midnight, but you should have sensed something was wrong when Chaeryoung asked for your door passcode because she ‘forgot her chapstick on your coffee table.’

She was the first to tackle you in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, mi amor!”

“Let the woman take her shoes off first, damn,” Jisung scolded.

“Wow, there’s certainly a lot of you,” you giggled after prying her off. “You guys shouldn’t have. Really! It’s Monday.”

“All the more to celebrate something worthwhile,” Chan grinned, handing you a glass of wine. “Welcome to the club.”

“Ugh, thanks.” Chaeryoung yanked away the oily bag of fries while you were distracted with the happy juice. “Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Don’t fret! We are having a dinner party because that’s what thirty-year-olds do.”

“Except we ate already because we thought you were coming home well before 9:00 PM,” Hyunjin grinned sheepishly.

“No, yeah, I love when my friends watch me stuff my face.”

The dining table was decorated with burgundy candle sticks, red roses, and black bows. It was definitely a step-up from your twenty-first bubblegum pink and pastel confetti birthday, but this almost seemed… meek? Romantic, sure, but a little dark for a birthday. As Chaeryoung scrambled to fill your plate with take-out and prepare the cake, everyone took their place back at the table. The lights dimmed and out came a jet black cake with a toy knife and red frosting that read, ‘Happy Deathday to Your 20s!’

“A bit dark, but accurate,” you mused.

“Make a wish-!” A knock came at the door. “Shit.”

Everyone looked at each other awkwardly. Chaeryoung, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were present and those were the only people you regularly hung out with. Who could be left?

“Are people still coming?” you asked.

The boys collectively shot a look at a wide-eyed and frozen Chaeryoung, none of them willing to break the news or catch a stray. “Um…”

“What did you do?” you accused. “You didn’t invite that one guy I told you about last month, did you?”

“No, but I wish I had.” Another knock. “Coming!”

“It’s not a coworker, is it?”

“Worse,” Jisung mumbled. “For you, at least.”

“Minho!” Chaeryoung exclaimed happily. “You’re just in time!”

“What -” you hissed at the boys, “- the hell?!”

They all held their hands up in defense. Minho passed the threshold and your twenties flashed before your eyes. The once blondish short and styled middle part now hung loose in soft chocolate strands; eyes that once held the universe were dark and doe-like; and arms that once moved freely in his sleeves now tightened around them. He was a completely different man who you hadn’t seen in five years and here he was at a pivotal moment of your life, about to celebrate you and the life you’ve lived without him for the better half of the last decade. It took all your might to lift your sore legs to walk over to greet your guest and restrain from strangling your best friend. He wore clothes appropriate for a casual dinner party that didn’t spill into the blues of corporate-wear, clearly aware of this occasion, and a small gift bag. His appearance was intentional, not upon happenstance, which made this whole ordeal a lot weirder.

Following him in, hand-in-hand, was a woman. A stranger. Two strangers in your home.

He pulled away from Chaeryoung’s death grip and you locked eyes. It’s awkward, to put it politely; to put it rudely, it was horrifying. Your nervous system certainly felt nervous, firing fight-or-flight responses the way he drank you in like the first sip of a bitter negroni. How someone could evolve and change to the point of being unrecognizable should be studied by Darwin.

He’s the first to break with a small smile to ease the tension. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Happy birthday, _____.”

The bag is small and neatly wrapped with care in your favorite colors. The woman behind him smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You really shouldn’t have. And thank you…?”

“Oh, right. This is Karina, my girlfriend of two years.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. And happy birthday!”

You brain buffered when she bowed. How awkward, because you haven’t heard anything about her other than her existence. You never thought he’d have someone so beautiful. Minho blocked you on social media a long time ago, so you wouldn’t have recognized her. Chaeryoung had to kick you back to life. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you, too! Welcome to my home.”

“There’s wax on the cake!” Jisung warned.

“Oh, hurry in! _____ was about to make a wish!” Chaeryoung pushed the three of you to the dining area.

There’s a bitter taste on your tongue watching him dap up the boys and watching her hug them so warmly. You never faulted them for being neutral. They were just as much as his friends as they were yours but having him here created a thick glass wall on your side of the table, like he was icing you out in your own home; that you paid with your own hard-earned money, mind you! This was as close to a defense mechanism you could build.

Nine people were watching you, all of whom were paired with another in the room except Chaeryoung, in your home. There’s a heavy shroud of dread that’s draped over your makeshift invisible box you struggled to keep upright. This was supposed to feel like a celebration of you, but it quickly turned rotten when you realized you were the only single person on your own side of the table, being made a spectacle as the couples moved closer and watched more intently. It was like they were watching a ghost of singles-past, feeling more appreciative of the life they procured together as you watched their hold on each other tighten ever so slightly.

“Make a wish,” Jisung sang.

You stared blankly at the three sparkling candles. What was there to wish for? You had a good career, a warm home, food on the table, and loved ones who kept you up on your feet. You supposed a better work-life balance would be feasible, but that was something within reach and in your control. To wish is to pray and to pray is to beg, and you weren’t one to beg for anything except for the pickles Chaeryoung picked out of her sandwiches. What was something that even you couldn’t control, something you had to ask some spirit dwelling in the ether for?

A flash of Minho’s eyes boring into yours made your face hot. Maybe you’d just let this wish go to waste instead.

You blew out the candles and applause erupted with Chan eager to cut into the cake. It was your favorite flavor from your favorite local baker whom you trusted every birthday and holiday to deliver the finest treats. At least this part of your birthday was perfect.

“So, what does thirty feel like?” Hyunjin asked. “Do you want the number of the senior home down the street from me?”

“Ha ha,” you drawled. “Aren’t you next, Hwang?”

“Actually, Minho’s next – ow!”

Chaeryong didn’t hide how she elbowed his ribs. She then gave a wide smile and her fingers danced. “Do you feel more mature?”

“As mature as a dry-age steak.”

“Well, you pair well with red wine, at least.” Chan raised his glass. “Here’s to you and to all of us, our priceless friendship!”

Most of us, you wanted to correct, but decided against being uncouth. “Cheers!”

When you were all in the younger halves of the twenties, conversations were about memes, pop culture, and the new hottest bar that just opened. Now, as you were ranting about quarter one earnings and the Windows 11 update, the others doubled down on the corporate jargon. Even Karina, who revealed she was a consultant in tech, participated in the conversations. Minho was the only one who remained quiet, but he was simply enjoying the company, leaning back in the chair with his arm around his woman. For someone who had never visited or even wished well on past birthdays, he was making himself quite at home.

Your birthday dinner lasted long enough to finish off three bottles of wine between everyone and for all the food to disappear, making clean-up much easier. As everyone scrambled around your home clouded in buzzed-up nonsense, Jisung was the one to tour your apartment with Minho and Karina, telling the tale of every picture you hung on a wall or framed on a credenza.

“This was when we went to London one summer after my graduation,” he said. “I’m the youngest, so I was the last one and we decided to make it a big celebration. I think this was the day Minho and _____ got lost and almost hopped on a train to Edinburgh by accident. This one was from Chaeryoung’s twenty-fourth birthday. I think Minho took this picture, actually.”

“Where are you in these pictures, Minho?” Karina wondered innocently.

There’s a breath of silence in the loft aside from you who didn’t pay any mind to his girlfriend’s ignorance. Not like you expect your fallout to be a topic of conversation over a candle-lit dinner date, anyway. You also didn’t expect that look on Minho’s face when he realized that to be true.

“He’s usually the one behind the camera!” Jisung answered, not exactly lying. “You’ve seen his Instagram and how he composes his cat pictures.”

Minho didn’t try to correct him, and they quickly moved on.

As it was the first day of the working week, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were the first to leave. For whatever reason, Minho and Karina decided to stay back. Karina’s motive was unclear; either she was really bad at reading the room or the effort to be friends was genuine, but even when Minho asked if she wanted to leave with everyone, she decided against it.

“Let me help you take the garbage out,” she offered Chaeryoung.

“I can do it,” you and Minho said in unison.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday and this one had a little too much to drink before coming here and when we got here.”

Chaeryoung gave you a sympathetic look as they carried several bags out to the ground floor. What a convenient day for the chute to be broken! They’d take the five-to-ten minutes of traveling to the ground floor out to the back where the bins were.

And then there were two, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, unable to look each other in the eyes after five years of abandonment.

“Hi,” he greeted again, lips flat-lined and unsure of how to move this conversation forward.

You beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue poked his cheek. “I ran into Chaeryoung last weekend at the bar I work at and asked what she was doing for your birthday.”

“Why would you ask that?” you asked coldly.

“I… just knew she'd be doing something for you. Maybe she took it as me asking to get invited, but that wasn’t my intention. I think she panicked, invited me anyway, and here I am.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” he agreed, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that asked, ‘but why would I?’

You looked away. “Isn’t this a far drive for you?”

“I live here now. Well, not here; on the other side, closer to downtown and near that bar.”

“Oh. How long have you been a city dweller?”

“About two years now.”

That lined up with his relationship status. It was a fact that it was easier to find partners in the metropolitan, yet somehow you were the only one to remain alone after being one of the first to move here. How was it that Minho managed that in under a month? And if he’s been here for two years, how have you not realized that?

You swallowed the rest of the wine in your glass. “How do you like it?”

“I love it.” He ran a hand through his tired head of hair, creating a split down the middle. The redness on his face had spread from his nose to his cheeks, as it always did when alcohol invaded his bloodstream. “I see why you wanted to move here.”

He, too, must have seen how time was of the essence, and with what little time you have in your young lives, the highest quality of life would be to live where your peers were thriving. If only he understood this years ago.

You nodded sourly, feeling the loneliness resurface after having to repress it for so long. “I’m happy for you.”

“Your mother once told us, ‘mean what you say and say what you mean.’ You don’t have to lie.”

“Don’t tell me what my mother says.”

Tension as thick as jell-o separated you from him. There’s a brief stare down after your threat, or what sounded like a threat, and you swear there’s hurt behind those big eyes of his, but he wouldn’t be the victim here; not when he was the one who left your life and blocked you out of his. He didn’t have the right to be offended by your unwelcoming attitude when he was never welcome to begin with. On your birthday, at that.

Chaeryoung saved the evening and rushed back inside, afraid of the damage you’d tell her later.

“Ready?” Karina asked, squeezing Minho’s bicep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, being the first to break contact. You didn’t help him see his way out, but he said over his shoulder once more, “Happy birthday, _____.”

“Thank you for coming,” you called out sharply.

“It was nice meeting you!” Karina said cheerfully.

“You, too.”

Chaeryoung, the kind woman and hostess as she is, hugged them both and hastened to lock the door. She rushed back, clinging to you and holding your arms inside, likely afraid that you’d break something or chug the rest of the fourth bottle.

“I’m so~o sorry!”

“He told me how it happened. Tell me why I’m not surprised?”

“It was at the bar near your work that I told you about. You didn’t come because you had some reports to submit before midnight. And who do I see behind the bar? Minho, of all people! He was running that shit like the navy! It was hard to talk long over the music, but we said our hellos and he quickly brought up the fact you were turning thirty and asked what I was doing because he knows how much I love you and I’m the bestest friend ever – Anyway, I told him about the surprise, and he looked so damn sad! Jesus Christ, so you know me, an empath, I had to at least offer him an invite. I didn’t think he’d take it, nor did I think he’d ask to bring a plus one, like, yesterday!”

In the midst of her ramblings, you squirmed free from her grip and pulled the poor pouty girl into a tight hug. “I will not let him ruin what you’ve done for me. I love you and appreciate you.”

“It was so hard!” she whined. “The boys are so unreliable! I ask them to buy something for decorations, they don’t answer, and when I ask a few days later they’re like, ‘I got it a while ago,’ and I’m like, ‘why didn’t you say something?!’ and they’re like, ‘I didn’t think I’d need to as long as I brought it the day-of.’ Can you believe that?!”

“After over ten years of friendship, yes, yes I can.”

After cleaning up the remaining crumbs and dishes, Chaeryoung found the gift that Minho and Karina left on one of the chairs. “Did you open it?”

“No. What if it’s a bomb? Can you do it?”

She tossed out the tissue paper and peered inside fearlessly. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“A gift card and a perfume bottle; a pricey one. Ooh, it smells good!”

The gift card was to a new bar that was opening on the same block as your office. Your boss was excited to finally have a happy hour location so close that you haven’t gone a day without hearing about it since its announcement. The name on the card said ‘DAHLIA’ and the amount it held was five hundred dollars.

“Huh,” Chaeryoung mused, “isn’t this address very close to where you work? And you like dahlias. Scary coincidence.”

“Do you think he’s stalking me?”

“Maybe it’s Karina.”

The perfume was in a sleek clear bottle with a white face and gold cap. It smelled of marshmallows, orange blossoms, and neroli. It would be the most expensive thing you’d own, cosmetics wise.

“They open on Friday,” she said giddily. “We should go!”

The projected menu on their social media did look really good… and they had variations of your favorite drink and ones you’ve never heard of.

“Think of it as a ‘celebration’ to the start of a new quarter! Since it’ll be slower now, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, accepting that poor-quality reasoning for a twenty dollar cocktail. “Ok, let’s go!”

Your best friend squealed happily and dug through your closet, plucking out the shortest skirt in your wardrobe.

--

On Thursday, Chaeryoung canceled on you to go on a third date with the guy she’s been seriously interested in. She was hoping to finally become an exclusive dating couple; not exactly boyfriend-and-girlfriend, but they’re not allowed to see other people since they’re exclusive, so it’s a label-without-the-label situation that you struggled too hard to grasp. If the majority of your peers thought that way about dating, maybe it was a good thing you remained single.

When you exited your office’s high-rise that day, on your way to the train, you passed by an alley in between the Italian place and the coffee shop you and your co-workers frequented. There was an inconspicuous red ‘OPEN’ light at the end above a black door that caught your attention. In a small serif font, the letters ‘DAHLIA’ was stamped on the door. Friday was supposed to be the official opening day according to their social media pages, but there was no mistake it was open as indicated by the bouncer standing guard.

You did have the gift card in your wallet, and you were craving that crispy green tea highball they had in one of their posts. It was only 6:00 PM, maybe they’d have some happy hour deals going on and you could report back to Chaeryoung with your findings.

You walked up to the doorman. “Hi, are you open –”

“I.D.”

Well, that answers that. He allowed you to pass into the low-lit glowing bar. It wasn’t busy like a Friday evening, but almost all of the tufted couches and chairs were filled, leaving a semi-vacant bar up for grabs. The aura of the bar is what one might describe as ‘vibey and chill’, as the low hum of the bass from the hip-hop song in the background vibrated your heart. This was as soft as a soft-opening could get.

On the menu, there was a special on the drink you were looking forward to and a snack pairing: rice paper and seaweed chips with a salt and togarashi seasoning. You knew all those words separately but couldn’t comprehend them together.

“I.D., please,” the bartender asked.

You fumbled for your wallet and mumbled, “Why bother carding at the door if you’re just –”

You dropped your wallet when you saw Minho at the other side of the bar in a white button-down that was buttoned barely half-way. His lips curled teasingly.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you gasped, popping your head up after picking up your wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that the only way you’ll greet me from now on?”

You felt your face burn even before any alcohol entered your system. “Chaeryoung mentioned you worked at the other bar nearby.”

“I own that one, too. This one I just opened.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. Wait, ‘own’?” He nodded sheepishly. “But that bar has been there forever. I thought that old guy owned it?”

“He was looking to retire, so I jumped the gun and bought it. Kept it mostly the same, added some things I thought would pick up a trend, and it did so well that I was able to open ‘DAHLIA’.”

“That’s incredible,” you congratulated. “I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad that the gift card is so expensive.”

He smiled, but it didn’t translate to his eyes. “Do you work nearby?”

“At the tall building down the street.”

He’s just as taken back as you are. Maybe he wasn’t stalking you. “Crazy coincidence. But it’s late already. Long day?”

You sighed. “Most days are this long.”

“Yikes. Can I get you a drink?”

“The green tea highball looks good.”

“Coming right up.”

Minho rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and did his witchcraft. In a highball glass, a ludicrously elongated ice cube was placed. Then, two shots of Japanese whiskey from the mid-shelf (never mind the overpour), an ounce of cold brew jasmine green tea, and what little space was left was topped with club soda. Using a long bar spoon, Minho mixed its contents and offered it to you with a stainless steel straw.

You hummed happily. “Whoa.”

“I agree.”

“Where was this on my twenty-first?”

“I dare you to Google the whiskey I used and see if you think we could have afforded that at twenty-one.”

“I see your point.”

There’s a long pause of waiting for the other to say what they mean and to mean what they say. You thought about how coldly you displayed yourself to Minho and it ate up your thoughts the whole week. Even when he was the one who wanted you out of his life, he was the one to find you and it seemed he was here to stay, to be next to where you worked, and to be a part of your everyday life as you’d think about him every time you passed this alley between the office and the train. Was this a gift or a curse?

The wound was still fresh, but he was not the only one to blame.

You cleared your throat. “Listen, I –”

“I think –”

You both paused again. After all these years, your wavelengths were still in sync.

“Go ahead,” you offered.

“I think…” …We shouldn’t talk when we see each other? I shouldn’t have given you a gift? We should unpack the trauma we gave each other over coffee some time? “You should try the snack pairing.”

Possibly the best words to leave his lips. “Please.”

“One sec,” he said before running to the kitchen.

Your palms were sweaty, but if anyone asked, you’d feign it was from the condensation on the glass. Your first real conversation with Minho in five years was more stressful than presenting to upper management. Any courage of apologizing had fizzled and the fear of being vulnerable was chilling. You hoped the rest of the drink would give you that push.

Minho came back slightly breathless with a bowl of curly seaweed and rice chips with red seasoning. He stared at the glass that was almost full just a second ago.

“Would you like another one?”

Your vision was already swirly. “No, thank you. But these look delicious.”

The crunch from the fried rice paper was loud enough to make some heads turn. It was salty and the seaweed flavor shined through. The punch from the togarashi made you wish you had taken up the offer on another drink.

You let out another happy hum, and your sinuses cleared. “Wasabi!”

“Really sobers you up, huh?”

“I can smell colors.”

He let out a genuine laugh and you got a glance of his little bunny teeth. You wondered if he’d still have them when he was sixty.

The shy bartender fiddled with the kitchen towel. “You were going to say something?”

“Right. I’m –”

“Excuse me!” a customer approached the bar. “Can I have an espresso martini?”

“Absolutely!” Minho said in his customer service voice.

Espresso martinis were all the craze these days, especially with the ladies. You understood why, they were delicious and reminded everyone of a sweet little treat before the work day. You watched as Minho threw in his Boston shaker ice, vodka, coffee liqueur, and cold brew, and shook with all his might. The muscles you noticed on your birthday shined through, as the veins on his forearms and biceps were put to work. Your eyes traveled shamefully to his open chest, focusing on the groove in between. He poured the creamy drink into a martini glass and added it to her tab.

You drank the complimentary ice-cold water before he returned.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, I’m the one interrupting your work.” Despite drinking a multitude of fluids, your throat was dry and sharp, like the words were scraping skin on their way out. Just say it, dammit! “I’m sorry how I treated you on Monday.”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that after so long.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.”

“For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for attending.”

“You should have chosen another time to meet.”

“Your thirtieth birthday is important. It’s a huge milestone. I couldn’t dream of missing it.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

He hung his head in a way that a puppy would when being punished. “I know.”

“You –” you choked. “I don’t know. I don’t know what or how to feel.”

“Maybe we could start over.”

“Start over?”

“Hi,” he held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Minho, I’m a bartender and chef, and we met when we were nineteen.”

“Minho –”

“Would you like to get coffee next door some time?”

“You are ridiculous.”

The rush of after-work over timers hit the bar like a thirsty school of fish. Two other bartenders jumped in, but they needed Minho to keep up a good speed. From his navy pants pocket, he pulled out his business card and slid it over.

“My number’s on the card.”

It was different from the one you had saved on your phone and he knew that. “Wait, I need to close out my tab.”

“It’s on me. Let me make up for Monday.”

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before taking the next customer. His mannerisms made every customer smile or blush. ‘Come closer’ he’d gesture with his finger, leaning in to hear their order, and winking after handing off the final product; rinse and repeat.

You left a hefty tip under your glass and slipped away from the crowd. At home, you spent half an hour rubbing your cheeks, unaware of how sore they were after the train ride.

--

The business card hung on your fridge under a London magnet. Every day, you’d wake up, stare at it while filling your water bottle, leave for work, come home, and stare at it some more as you prepared dinner. In the same serif font in black ink, in the center of the card was his full name. Under it said ‘Restauranteur’, followed by ‘DAHLIA’, the Japanese flavors-inspired bar, and ‘RED LIGHT’, the one with American flavors. His phone number and email were in small print, all information embossed on an off-white business card. ‘Classy’ was the most appropriate description of such a card, while yours was so plain in comparison. Technology products didn’t need that kind of pizazz, to be fair.

The next time you saw Chaeryoung was for a girls’ night-in on a Wednesday to gush about her new exclusive not-boyfriend. She noticed the business card while putting the dishes in the sink and plucked it from the fridge, already aware of what transpired on Thursday before.

“‘Restauranteur’,” she scoffed. “Ok, Minho.”

“I know, right? Can you believe he bought out that sleazy old man?”

“I always wondered why the quality went up all of a sudden. I can’t believe he hid that from everyone else, too! We’ve all been meeting around that area for months! Why did he give you this, though?”

“I guess he changed his number.”

“What? He’s had this number for a while now.” You shot her a deadpanned look. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t have known whether he changed it or not. Did you hit him up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? It feels… too soon.”

“Five years feels too soon?”

“No,” you sighed, unable to form the words in the right sentence. “We’re already on awkward footing after my birthday. And seeing and talking to him made my blood pressure spike to an unhealthy degree.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

Nervous wasn’t right. It felt much deeper than that. “Afraid.”

If anyone knew the degree of pain and confusion you held for Minho, it was Chaeryoung. She always did her best to understand, but there are some things one must experience to understand, and this was one of them. She held you firm by the shoulders and knitted her brows.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

The music streaming on your phone paused as your best friend moved swiftly to the couch, already propping her feet up on the chaise before you could register what happened. The clicking of your phone keyboard over the bluetooth speaker snapped you back and you ran to join her.

“Wait, don’t!” you warned.

“‘Hey, bro’,” she said as she typed, “Too casual?”

“I’m thirty. I don’t say ‘bro’.”

“All right, jeez. ‘Hello, Minho. I hope this text finds you well. Per our last meeting – ��”

“Now you’re just being a dick.”

“I’m kidding, relax! ‘Hi, it’s _____. It was nice seeing you on Thursday.’”

“I wouldn’t say it was a ‘nice’ meeting.”

“Oh, my God, shut up. ‘Good to see you on Thursday,’ happy? ‘Would you like to get coffee some time?’ And send. This is fun, it’s like when we used to project our dating app DMs on the TV! Oh, wow he’s typing already. Asshole, he never answers any of us in the group chats until the next day.”

Texting a boy and sweating, waiting for his response… Were you thirteen again? The notification ding made your heart jump.

Your brows furrowed, matching Chaeryoung’s. “‘Hey! Of course I would. Just tell me when.’ Um. Tell him sometime next week?”

“‘Tomorrow at 11:00AM?’”

“Chaer!”

“‘See you then.’ You’re welcome!” she cheered, tossing your phone on your lap.

“Now he’ll think I’m excited…”

“Whether you are nervous, excited, or afraid, shouldn’t that mean something? That maybe you still have him in your cold, dead heart somewhere?”

“It took years of therapy to heal what was wounded. I don’t know if this will feel like closure or if I’m opening up my stitches.”

“And I’ll be here to help suture if it comes to it; again and again!” she encouraged, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I just want our friend group back together, you know? This is a start, sort of.”

“I know. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

“Too late.”

--

The day it happened, the clouds were grey, and they cried and cried, pouring down the heaviest rain of the year. It rattled Minho’s windows like bullets made from hail, drowning the silence and filling the room with nothing but sorrow.

Tonight, you were celebrating your new job and the big move. After the plates were emptied, the music that played over his speakers slowed, and filled with wine and tenderness, you two swayed to the rhythm in each other’s arms. First, he had your hand in his and lightly hovered over your waist, leading the waltz across the living room with ease. As the songs progressed, his hold on you tightened. He laced his fingers with yours, traveled his hand to your lower back, then placed the other there, too, after wrapping your arm around his neck. He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses touching and nuzzling so sweetly it made your heart soar.

He sighed happily, shoulders relaxing under your arms. “Should we be doing this?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you replied light heartedly, “you are just a friend, after all.”

“Do friends do this? Should we ask Chaeryoung and Jisung?”

“Not if you want to hear them gagging all night.”

His breathy laughs hit your lips and his eyes fluttered closed. “I want to kiss you.”

You’ve wanted to kiss him for five years. “Then kiss me.”

“And I want you to stay.”

“Stay?” You took a step back, hating the cold air that replaced his space. “What do you mean ‘stay’?”

“Don’t leave,” he begged.

“Minho –”

“Stay here with me.”

“No,” you said firmly. “This is the biggest thing to happen to my career, and I’m not throwing away this grand opportunity. Won’t you come with me instead?”

“You know I can’t leave my family right now.”

“Then,” you sighed, “do I wait for you?”

“Wait? We have options; what about long distance?”

“You know how vigorous my career is. I work long days and long nights. I can’t call you or text you the way that other people do.”

“So what?” he argued, throwing his hands up in frustration.

This was the first time you were having this talk. Never before had either of you revealed the feelings that mingled in the air whenever you were in the same room together. For years, you repressed them, too scared to cross the thin line that separated friendship from lovers and unwilling to feel vulnerable and reveal the true feelings of your heart. Because truthfully, you wouldn’t have time. You wouldn’t have time to drain and pour your heart into something – someone – that wasn’t the projects that laid out on your office desk, and how was that fair to someone you loved so dearly? As much as you wanted to love and to give, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you repeated. “That’s not fair to either of us. We deserve one hundred percent of each other, not fifty, or even ninety.”

“You’re not even willing to try?” he mumbled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “How could you spring this on me the weekend before I leave?”

“This was my only chance –”

“No, it wasn’t. You had five years. Five years! And you know how important my career is to me!”

“What about me? Aren’t I important to you, too?”

“Don’t,” you stuttered.

“No, it’s not that I’m not important, it’s that your career is more important. Is that it?” When you couldn’t answer, he nodded his head, accepting the poor answer. “All I wanted was for us to try.”

“I can’t give you one hundred percent of me.”

“Then I’ll give more! One hundred ten percent; one hundred fifty!”

“How long can you last like that when you don’t know when we’ll be together again?”

“I won’t know unless we try.”

“I don’t want to try. Trying means uncertainty. For five years, I have been certain about you. But I’m certain it won’t work when we are not present.”

“We’re going in circles.” Minho turned and ran a hand through his fluffy, light bronze hair. This color on him, you remembered, made him look so young.

“I can wait,” you whispered. “We can be friends still, and –”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

You couldn’t decide if your mouth should hang open or sew it shut forever. Still, you managed to slip out, “What?”

“It’s all or nothing for me, _____.” His eyes mirrored your glossy ones and the tip of his nose that was just on yours a second ago was reddening. “I don’t want friendship with you. I want love and passion, and I want you to tell me you want it, too. We aren’t friends; we never were really just friends, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

He closed the gap and his hands found yours, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “Then show me that you know! Tell me you want this! Tell me you don’t want to be just friends! Tell me you want me, desire me, that you can’t go a day without having me, the way I would for you!”

You shook your head. Long distance relationships never worked. You witnessed it through your coworkers, through friends, and bosses, and even old classmates who had deleted every existence of their past love and left no digital footprint on their timeline. Every relationship you ever knew to be long distance had never worked out, and you knew this one wouldn’t be any different.

He let go and stepped away. “I wish you a fulfilling life in the city –”

“Don’t do this.”

“– and I’m sorry, but I can’t be friends with you –”

“Minho, please…”

“– I can’t be just friends with someone who has my heart and doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Instead of rescinding, instead of apologizing and taking the leap of faith, taking the risk that came with being vulnerable and open and raw so you could see what it meant to be loved and cherished by someone who wanted to love and cherish, you decided to lock your heart away and to never reveal it to anyone ever again.

That was the last time you saw Minho. On your thirtieth birthday, he broke every layer you built to protect yourself in a matter of seconds.

--

“Earth to _____!”

In between ‘DAHLIA’ and your office, there was a coffee shop with outside seating. As you waited at one of the tables, the record player in your head had recalled that night, and once it started, it wouldn’t stop until it finished. Just as you finished, Minho arrived and waved a hand in front of your face and you wondered how long it took for you to notice.

“Sorry! Daydreaming.”

“About work?”

Did he truly think your mind was entirely consumed about work? “Yeah. Work.”

“Well, you keep daydreaming, and I’ll get us coffee. What would you like?”

“No, it’s my turn to get you something!”

“Nonsense! You also tipped me way too much. You still order the usual?”

If you were one thing, you were consistent. “The usual.”

Minho would do this finger-gun thing when he was feeling awkward, and he did so as he walked to the counter. His outfit wasn’t as formal as the night you saw him at the bar. His jeans were black and his sweater a bright cobalt; a color that allowed him to be the center of attention when he wasn’t asking for it.

You were the one to ask him to meet - or rather Chaeryoung was - but you didn’t consider what you’d talk about.

He came back with your usual and his usual, which was an iced americano. At least he, too, was consistent, and that hadn’t changed.

“Busy at work?” he asked, clearly not sure what to talk about, either.

“Yeah. Always busy, sadly.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said your hours would be long.”

“No,” you confirmed, “I wasn’t. What about you? What’s your work day like as the city’s coolest restaurateur?”

“You flatter me. I work at ‘RED LIGHT’ during the day, and head to ‘DAHLIA’ at night.”

You tried to estimate his work hours in your head. “Back-to-back?”

“Yup.”

“Everyday?”

“Kind of. If it’s slow on like, a Monday or Tuesday, I’ll head out early and let the closers handle it. Otherwise, my day off is whenever I feel like it, but it’s not a real day-off. I use those days to answer emails and organize the budget or the inventory. Takes every waking moment to run a restaurant or bar, you know?”

“I don’t know. How do you balance everything?”

“Well, I love my job. It’s hard, but I don’t find it draining. I guess that helps. I don’t mind waking up at five in the morning, working, and going to sleep, at least not yet. I’m sure I’ll hit a wall someday, but I’m doing my best to not let that happen.”

You’re afraid to ask the next question. “How do you balance your relationship with Karina when you’re so busy?”

“Phone calls, Facetime, designated nights for dates, surprise visits, little gifts and flowers here and there,” he nodded, looking at the table. “It’s hard, but we’re trying. That’s what’s important.”

Your coffee’s bitter and you didn’t want to bother with it after a couple of sips, but you keep at it to keep your lips occupied and to hide the way your teeth grit at the underlying accusation. “That takes a lot of patience. Some people struggle with that.”

He caught your drift and it appeared he realized he deserved that. “And you? Seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Not even casually?”

“No. Some dates here and there, but they never stick.”

“Why is that?”

“Either they’re boring, too intimidated by a strong female corporate supplicant, or I’m the problem.”

“Isn’t it -” he began but stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Say what you mean,” you pushed light heartedly.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

It’s true that it seemed like Cupid made his way around your friend group and you were the last to get hit. When your friends came home at night, they’d be welcomed into open arms and warm bodies. You came home to snacks and warmth was in the form of a fuzzy blanket you kept on the couch. At the height of your career, you once believed that love could wait, that it would find you at the right time and you’d know right then you were ready. As Minho sat across from you picking your brain about the emptiness that came with climbing the corporate ladder, the fear of feeling incomplete was imminent.

You wouldn’t let him see that part of you.

“I like my alone time.”

“But you have so much love in your heart.” He cleared his throat, regretting the arrangement of those words when he saw how your face twisted. What would he know about what’s in your heart? “Who do you give your affections to?”

“Must it be romantic?” you retorted. “My love is given to those you saw on my birthday.”

“I guess not. You’ve always been a romantic, though.”

“Five years is more than enough time to change who I was the last time you saw me.”

“Is that change good?” he asked nervously.

‘Is the result of feeling loveless from rejection and isolation a good change? Are you an idiot?’ you wanted to ask. But that would put the blame on him and blaming him meant acknowledging how much he affected you after all these years.

“Is that change good,” you repeated thoughtfully. “Neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“I think the decision we made five years ago put us where we are today; we’re both successful young adults thriving in a beautiful city. But I lost you as a result. So, the good must come with some bad. That’s neutral, no?”

His lips formed a smile, but again, it did not travel to his eyes. “You know, I was scared to come here today.”

“I’m not that terrifying, am I?”

“At first I thought, ‘wow, Chaeryoung did not try hard to pretend to be you at all.’”

You giggled. “No; no, she didn’t.”

“And then I thought, ‘we’ll be in public. She won’t kill me in front of people, right?’”

“Kill you!”

“But I know that wouldn’t have stopped you either way,” he grinned. “You haven’t killed me yet. Is it crazy of me to think of this as a good sign?”

“A sign! Is there something you’re looking to gain out of this meeting?” you teased.

“Yes,” he admitted, “a friend.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say, but your face twisted in a way that mimicked your thoughts. “A friend?”

“I know you and I have said and done some unkind things back then that we may not be able to forgive each other for, but after seeing you on your birthday, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. You may not believe me, but I miss you.”

Your head and your heart were in conflict. You had spent all this time trying not to miss him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unwilling to say the truth. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you all of a sudden. But… do you think it’s possible? That we could be friends again?”

How quickly would you lose him a second time? “I think we shouldn’t force it.”

“Friendships bloom naturally, of course.”

A flash of pink blurred your peripherals before it became the center of your attention. Karina held a finger to her lips as she approached Minho from behind, covering his eyes with her slender fingers. He took her hand and kissed it, leaning back to look at his glittering diamond with hearts in his eyes. They were a beautiful couple and it was as clear as day how much they adored each other. Witnessing love was supposed to be like looking at a garden of roses, but as you sat across in a front-row seat, you thought to yourself how much you disliked the smell of roses, anyway.

“Hi!” she greeted happily. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have lunch plans.”

You shook your head, dismissing the tightness in your gut. “No, please interrupt. I’m sorry for keeping him.”

“Would you like to join?”

You would rather jump off the roof of your fifty-floor office building. “Thank you, but I made plans with my co-workers already.”

“Then, we’ll have to get dinner some time!”

It pained you how much you disliked her. She didn’t deserve it. “Dinner some time sounds great.”

As Minho got up to leave, he leaned over the table and in a hushed tone said, “I just want you to know that you still cannot hide your feelings on your face.”

“My boss thinks it’s my killing charm.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Minho’s wink was like a button that set off every alarm in your body. As he walked away, hand-in-hand with the love of his life, you tortured yourself watching them recede until they rounded the corner.

–

Unfortunately, it was common workplace etiquette to have drinks with your coworkers after hours now that your schedules had slowed down. How convenient it was that ‘DAHLIA’ was open and even more so that your coworkers were eager to go. Initially, you tried to wiggle out of going, but your close comrade Choi San wouldn’t allow it.

He slammed his veiny hand on your desk, and you jumped. “Jesus -”

“_____ _____,” he boomed, loudly announcing your government name.

“No.”

“Come on! You haven’t joined us in, like, forever!”

“Forever will continue.”

“And if I bribe you with free drinks?”

You paused typing. “I’m listening.”

“You, me, and the forty-fifth floor at ‘DAHLIA’ in ten minutes.”

“‘DAHLIA’?” you repeated. “Does it have to be that bar?”

“Mingi already called the place to reserve. Why, is it not good?”

“No, quite the opposite.”

“Then make haste, my lady!”

The whole way across the street, San had his arm around your shoulder in a tight grip, too afraid to let you slip at the slightest chance of hesitancy. The smooth skin of his forearms touched your neck and it was close enough to smell the cologne he dabbed just minutes before leaving the building, which you now realized to be on purpose.

Inside, a bunch of young corporate acolytes gathered all throughout the bar, all of whom you worked and were familiar with. Minho, though busy taking their orders, saw you and San come in. He did a double take, eyebrow twitching upwards at the arm suffocating your neck. Your lips formed the words, ‘kill me’, as San guided you forward to the line to order.

Small talk with San was never small when he easily filled you in on his latest interests and hobbies. The other women in the office who were nearby engaged with him enthusiastically. Admittedly, there were a multitude of reasons why San was popular around the office. He was intelligent, always willing to lend a helping hand, had a positive attitude even when days were long and tough, and most importantly, he was so hot that your boss had to jokingly warn him several times to tone it down. His argument was it wasn’t his fault that button-downs were tight on his back and arms.

Minho was the one to usher you forward with his index and middle fingers. 

San wrapped his arm around your shoulder again for no apparent reason. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi. _____,” he addressed to you informally.

“‘Sup, Minho,” you sighed.

“You two know each other?” San inquired. “Is that why you didn’t want to come?”

San’s only flaw was that he talked too much. Your jaw ticked. “Old friends. And no, that’s not why.”

“Oh!”

“What can I get you two?” You thought you heard ice in Minho’s voice, but you must be mistaken.

You needed something strong. “A negroni, please.”

“Double that,” San said.

Minho neither confirmed nor denied hearing the order before starting on it. Finally, you’re able to breathe easier when the weight of San’s muscly arm lets you go, confident that you wouldn’t book it out the bar. He instead turned his body to you, creating a wall and making you feel like you were under a microscope.

“Your presentation to the team yesterday was, um, amazing,” he stuttered.

Calling a weekly work presentation amazing was odd; he’s heard you lead them probably a hundred times by now. “Yeah? Thanks.”

“And the way you were able to answer all of the questions Boss Man fired at you? It’s no wonder you’re his favorite.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m his favorite.”

“Well, you’re my favorite.” As soon as those words left his lips, he pursed them together and shut his eyes. “I-I mean the team’s favorite.”

You nearly snorted, though your smile was hard to hide. “That’s… certainly an honor -”

“Two negronis,” Minho interrupted as he pushed the glasses forward.

“I got it,” San reiterated.

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one. I’ll meet you over in a bit; gonna talk to my good ol’ friend here,” you forced a grin. Like an obedient dog, San joined the others at the reserved tables.

“Wow, he’s…” Minho trailed off. “A lot.”

“Mother always said not to say mean things.”

“That was me being nice. Don’t tell me that’s your type.”

“Minho! That would be highly inappropriate workplace behavior,” you teased, though he didn’t seem amused. “Besides, what do you know about my type?”

He smirked. “I think I would know better than anyone.”

The twinge in your chest was crushing. Had Cupid returned with sturdier arrows? “Remember, things can change.”

“Did they, though?”

Why did that matter? “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

The whole night, San hovered over you like a shadow, more than he ever had before. Maybe he saw Minho as competition after your coworkers prodded for the story behind you and the hot bartender. He wouldn’t have to worry, though, as he was highly mistaken about both Minho and having interest in someone you worked with.

You would thank San in the morning for dragging you out that night because he reminded you the importance of camaraderie. It was nice to be surrounded by people who shared the same professional struggles as you and it was freeing for everyone to let their walls down. Many of your co-workers were also single and struggling, filling the bar with chatter about failed dates and competing to see who had the worst one as of late. This was the first night in a long while that you had fun, and even though the man that haunted your thoughts was less than twenty feet away, you wouldn’t let him ruin this one night out of many.

But you felt it; that burn in the back of your head like twin cigarettes had bore themselves into your skull; the piercing eyes of an onlooker who couldn’t look away from you and the buff man next to you all night. Each time you tried to catch him in the act, he had anticipated it, busying himself with a customer or peeling orange twists, and when you looked away, you’d feel it again.

Like a worm eating its way through an apple, the fire in Minho’s eyes consumed you.

–

‘Wya?’

On a random weeknight, Minho texted you this just as you were leaving the office. You looked around outside looking for a sniper or an inconspicuous spy but did not see anything suspicious or sensed any danger. To that, you replied with, ‘Leaving the office. Why?’

‘Don’t move.’

If you weren’t panicking before, you were now. Then, from around the alley where ‘DAHLIA’ was, Minho popped up with a tote bag on his arm and an apron slung over his shoulder. He waved and flashed his feline smile, unaware of how cryptic his texts were.

“You didn’t literally have to not move,” he teased.

“Maybe you should normalize giving context.”

“Context is: do you have dinner plans tonight?”

Your plan was to pick up grocery store sushi and binge watch TV, if you’d call that a plan. “Not really. Why?”

He gestured to his tote bag. “I was going to my test kitchen. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

You considered saying no, but free food was involved. Plus, this is what friends would do, right? “Where’s this test kitchen of yours?”

“In my townhome. ‘Test kitchen’ just sounds cooler.”

The train ride to Minho’s place was the same distance as yours, just in the opposite direction. There wasn’t a ‘nice’ or a ‘bad’ side of the city, but you definitely wouldn’t classify this as the ‘bad’ side. Rows and rows of townhomes occupied endless streets in this neighborhood and each one had its own charm. Minho’s was right in the middle and the reddest, brickiest one on the block while the others had conformed to a more modern grey stucco-style.

The inside was anything but traditional though, with touches of modern style and technology. The first floor was similar to your loft, with an open floor plan combining the kitchen and living room meant for a true host and entertainer. The kitchen, of course, was the most updated, with a fancy six-burner stove, a magnetic display of different knives, and a giant white-granite island.

Soonie, Doongie, and Dori greeted Minho first by rubbing up against his calves and then greeted you second, unaware of the time that passed and recognizing your scent like you were only gone on a short trip.

You gasped happily, scratching their little heads and ears. “My fat ‘n furry step-children!”

“Looks like they missed you,” Minho chuckled.

“Oh, I missed you, too!” you cooed. “Can I help with any prep?”

“Can you help wash the produce?”

“Yes, chef.”

You tried not to stare too long at Minho while he tied the apron around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. There were vegetables in his tote bag you’ve never seen before, like the bulbous onion-like thing that smelled of licorice and a variation of a mushroom that looked like it would turn you into a zombie.

“Everything’s a vegetable or a fruit,” you noted.

“I’m attempting some vegetarian and vegan options outside of a salad and some dessert. If it doesn’t work out, the Thai place down the street is really good.”

Minho instructed you to cut vegetables in ways that you didn’t even know had a name to the technique. You had to tell him to talk to you like a five-year-old because you were not someone who knew what it meant to julienne a carrot or prepare the mise en place.

The first dish was a seared cabbage wedge. Cut the head into wedges; sear on the pan; make a soy-sugar-rice-vinegar saucy thing; shave a potato and toast it like a breadcrumb; retrieve the soy-and-smoke-cured egg yolk and… shave it?

“What do you mean ‘shave it’?” you muttered, holding the hardened yellow orb of congealed something in one hand and a sharp sword-like thingamabob in the other. “Isn’t it going to burst?”

Minho, bless his heart, stood behind you and guided your hands together. His hands, despite going through hundreds of washes and touching all things hot and cold, were soft and warm on top of yours. He had you shave one quarter of the solid egg yolk over the dressed cabbage wedge.

“The yolk is cured, so it’s solid all the way through,” he said.

His breath tickled the shell of your ear and it turned hot. Was the oven set to a thousand degrees? “O-Oh! Wow, that’s cool. Is it done?”

It was only then that Minho released his hold. “Yup. Try it.”

Cooking was a hidden form of sorcery. It was one of the most complex and delicious dishes you’ve ever eaten. Salty from the potato breadcrumb, savory from the egg yolk, and sweet from the soy sauce, feeling different textures and flavors so good you had to stop yourself from moaning.

“Good?” he asked. All you could do was nod vigorously with eyes wide and glittering. He smiled genuinely and his eyes sparkled, too. He opened his mouth and said, “Ah~”

That was your cue to feed him a bite. You gathered the perfect amount of everything onto a fork for him. As he chewed, his brows knitted together thoughtfully and you’re unsure of what that expression meant. From his pocket, he took out a small field notes book and scribbled something quickly.

“You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I like it a lot.”

“Why is your face like that?”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look so angry.”

“That’s just how my face looks.”

Next was a vegetarian bone marrow. Nothing about bones or marrows sounded remotely vegetarian, but Minho handed you two fat king oyster mushrooms to halve and remove the centers while he sautéed a medley of other mushrooms in salted butter, garlic, and thyme. There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen as you both worked. Nothing felt awkward, or forced, or as bitter as your last meetings were.

As you waited for Minho’s further instructions, you toured the living space and observed all the pictures. You were in about half of them. Most were of your entire friend group, but many were significant moments in your lives, like graduation, birthdays, talent shows, or candid solo pictures. After all these years, when you kept any evidence of him hidden in a shoe box in your closet, he displayed you loud and proud. You glossed over the number of pictures of Karina for your own sake but seeing her face that many times made you stop looking.

When you turned back, Minho was staring at you so intently, he forgot to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he cleared his throat. “Um, the next step is ready.”

Under an immersive blender (“Immersion blender, silly.”) was the sautéed medley and the guts of the king oyster mushroom, softened cream cheese, and olive oil. The paste was bagged and piped back into the charred and seasoned center of the cut-out king oyster mushroom. With a flame torch, Minho darkened the paste, creating a bruleed outer layer, and topped it off with pink peppercorns, pecorino, and chives. Triangles of buttered toast were the vehicle.

Minho took a spoon and scooped out the center. “A little bit of ‘marrow’ and voila. And the ‘bone’ is edible, too, obviously.”

Your eyes teared up at the fireworks of umami. “Will you cater for my next birthday?”

“For you, I will.”

After course upon course of seared and leafy bites of savory and salty goodness, you greenlit practically all of them to Minho’s dismay (“Guinea pig means to critique, not suck up to.”). Dessert was the final leg of courses. From preserved lemon sorbets to chocolatey bites of flourless cake, you would fall into a deep sleep tonight on a cloud of spun sugar.

“I’m drunk on life,” you sighed happily.

“I like you best that way.”

“Seriously, Minho, you have something really good here. I’m no expert, but I think –”

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Chocolate on your lip.”

“Huh? Here?” you licked once.

“Not even close.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where’s a napkin?”

“Hold still, will you?”

Minho held your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted up. Like a surgeon, he meticulously wiped away all evidence of your inner chocolate-devouring goblin with his other thumb. For a moment, he lowered his hand to wipe it on his apron, but he caught you looking at his lips.

“Th-Thanks,” you whispered.

He took the chocolate-covered thumb and sucked it clean, maintaining his gaze before it lowered. “My pleasure.”

The kitchen felt hot and it was hard to breathe. The alarms in your head went off again; the longer you stayed, the faster you’d fall. “I-I should go.”

“Wait –”

“This was great by the way!” you called as you backed up towards the door. “S-So good! And thank you, I will pay you back for any groceries!”

“That’s not necessary, I invited you here.”

“Let me know what you decide to add to the menu, and I’ll-I’ll stop by some time, yeah?”

You didn’t give him the opportunity to answer before running out the door.

–

The following weeks after your inappropriately intimate tasting, you avoided Minho as long as you could. It hadn’t even been a month since you saw him for the first time and you already crossed the thin line that was never meant to be crossed. You couldn’t even be strong for that long before you fell back into the routine of desiring the one man you weren’t allowed to have.

This was the curse of Cupid. He had successfully shot and landed an arrow into every friend you loved, pairing them up with their person and the match-up was so right it was scary. Somehow, at the perfect time under the correct circumstances, your friends found the ones that completed their other half, or so they said, and you witnessed love in full bloom every time it happened and everyday since. When it was shoved in your face like that, how could you not think about what you were missing out on every single day of your life?

You used to think considering a couple as two halves was a disservice to humanity. Halves implied that part of you was missing; it suggested that one could never be whole alone, that they spend their whole lives finding someone who fit the two-piece puzzle. A two piece puzzle was supposed to be the easiest puzzle in the world, but in a box filled with over eight billion pieces, it would take forever for Cupid to pair the pieces. At twenty-five, after that stormy night, you once believed that you could survive as one single piece among the eight billion for the rest of your life at the bottom of the pieces pile, if it came to it; but now that you’re the last of the friend group to yet find your match - at thirty, at that - maybe Cupid had a point to the whole two halves make a whole argument.

Because admittedly, as much as you tried to convince yourself on your thirtieth birthday, you didn’t feel whole. Hell, you barely felt like half; and every time you saw Minho, bits of you were being chipped off to the point that you were scared of losing your half of the puzzle.

To distract yourself from thinking about Minho licking chocolate from your lips, you finally jumped the gun and downloaded dating apps for the first time. Well, Chaeryoung and Jisung did.

“Put on your bathing suit,” she ordered.

“Excuse you.”

“What? All your selfies are so normal!”

“Normal is a good thing, Chaer.”

“But it’s not,” Jisung piped in. “Dating is not what it used to be. Before, it was as simple as looking pretty, saying your favorite song or movie, and naming the restaurant you want your first date to be at. Now, you have to get personal. Name a niche hobby, what character from a TV show represents you the most, what childhood trauma affected your frontal lobe development -”

“Ok, I get it.”

Jisung and Chaeryoung sandwiched you tightly on the couch even though the view of the tablet was easily seen. Chaeryoung filled in all the prompts for you a little too enthusiastically while Jisung was there to judge through the lens of the male gaze and snacks.

The woman beside you cackled evilly. “This is so much fun! I can’t believe you’re finally doing this. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

“Seriously. What man made you do this?” Jisung teased.

You yanked the tablet back. “No one.”

“Liar.”

“Who do you think, Han?” Chaeryoung stated bluntly. “Who else could have brought this blessing upon us?”

“Oh,” he mused, “duh.”

“Shut up, both of you! No one made me do this. Am I not worthy of finding love?”

“Of course you are. Just not this way.”

“Why not this way?”

“Just watch.”

The second someone completes their profile, it’s like the app forces it at the top of everyone’s algorithm. You received a lot of interest and private messages in the first five minutes, many of which were… bold…

“Men are so uncouth,” you groaned. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugged, pointing to his head and then his groin. “Two heads, two brains.”

“Ugh, gross.”

Chaeryoung swiped left at lightning speed. “Too young, too old, too short, too tall, too smart –”

“I like smart,” you pouted.

“The key to a healthy relationship is to be smarter than them.” Jisung didn’t argue, as he was happily committed to his intelligent partner (a mystery to all, as no one knew how he bagged a research fellow).

There’s a knock on your door. The three of you look at each other in confusion.

“You two need to stop secretly inviting strange men to my home,” you accused before getting up.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Jisung defended, “did you?” Chaeryoung denied.

When you opened the door, a disheveled Minho stood there with an oily bag in his hands. He raised a brow. “Am I that strange?”

Just as you were trying to trust in the dating app algorithm, the Gods and Cupid said, ‘let there be chaos!’ “You, specifically? A little bit.”

“Ha ha,” he drawled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah!” Jisung called from the couch. “This is girl time, Min!”

“Shut up!” Chaeryoung pulled Jisung up from the couch and they both patted your head before rushing out the door. “We’ll see you later, _____!”

“Y-You don’t have to leave!” you practically begged.

“Honey, it’s past-nine on a weekday, yes we do!”

“I didn’t realize the time,” Minho frowned, looking at his watch. “I was nearby with Hyunjin and thought I’d stop by with some fries to make up for Chaeryoung tossing them out on your birthday.”

You don’t even remember that happening. “That’s so nice of you.”

“I can come back another time.”

“No!” you said an octave too high. “No, please come in!”

Minho’s outfit was more casual than ‘DAHLIA’s typical button down and tight slacks and you deduced he was working at ‘RED LIGHT’ today. There were multiple oil and/or beer stains on his shirt and his hair was parted and pointing in different directions, evidence of his hand having to go through it several dozen times out of stress.

“You look…”

“I know,” he sighed, plopping the bag on the table. “There was a work-lunch event today that turned into dinner for some corporate slugs. Then, Hyunjin was looking at a location for his coffee excursion and asked for my help. Four hours later, I’m starving and thought of you.”

He was thinking of you a lot lately, it seemed, and it was hard to deny that you reciprocated. “This is wonderful, thank you. I owe you two dinners now.”

“You don’t ‘owe’ me anything. Friends don’t owe; they treat.”

“My treat next time, then.”

“And the next,” he reminded with a smirk. “What were you girlies doing just now?”

“Um,” you hesitated, cheeks stuffed with potato. “Making me a dating profile.”

He raised a brow in the same way when he saw you walking in with San: questioning and dissatisfied. “You never had one before?”

“I was on-and-off when I first moved here, but I couldn’t stand to open the apps after a couple days of usage.”

He does the thing with his fingers when he gestures to come close. You noticed his hands were veinier now than when you were younger.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see my dating profile?” He nodded. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I’ll give you an opinion through the male gaze.”

“Why do you think Jisung was here?”

“Certainly not that.”

Defeated, you handed him your phone with the app open. There’s a twinkle of curiosity wondering how he’d react, but you wanted to tame that fire quickly. He scrolled and swiped, then scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled.

His face was stern when he said, “You already have a lot of admirers.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

He didn’t answer and continued to scroll. “What about that guy you work with?”

“San? What about him?”

“Nothing came of it?”

“Didn’t I tell you that would be inappropriate?”

“Is that the only reason stopping you?”

You squint your eyes at your all too curious friend who hadn’t looked up from your phone since taking it. He popped fries in his mouth rhythmically like a metronome until he caught the heat from your gaze. He looked up and did a double take.

“Hm?” he asked.

“Why are you so curious?”

“So, there’s another reason stopping you?”

“And if there is?”

“And if there is…” he repeated, fiddling with your phone charm. “Would you tell me?”

The inkling of assumption tickled annoyingly at the corners of your mind. Was he asking to let you know that he knew he was the reason for your desires? Or was he asking to tease you, to prove to you that if you had made the right decision all those years ago, you could have been in Karina’s position? That all this time you spent away from him, your journey for companionship started too late. And sure, your bank account was as filled as your stomach, but was it worth it when you had no one to share it with?

He waited patiently for your answer, but you heard his foot tapping rapidly on the wood. Your mouth opened, then closed, and you finally shook your head in shame, because your lips were cursed to speak the truth or nothing at all and you would rather deny than to admit.

He licked his lips, and that gesture alone sparked something in your core. Then he nodded in a way that expressed sourness, as if this confirmation was exactly what he expected but not what he was hoping in both the nonverbal response and the underlying tone that trailed behind it.

You broke the silence. “How’s Karina?”

“Good.” He was quick to shake his head. “Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since lunch a month ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve… been too busy.”

Shameful and embarrassed, was what you gathered from his response. As he should; to criticize your decision only to repeat the cycle when he found fulfillment in his career was so… Hypocritical was not a strong enough word. Betrayal, perhaps, was the most correct, but that didn’t satisfy you, either.

You wouldn’t get satisfaction from any angle, though. No matter how you viewed it, it was selfish to consider yourself relevant here. Minho was hurting; everything you feared about relationships had flowered before him and crushed the idea that perfection could be achieved as long as both people tried. But it seemed that although he tried, it wasn’t enough, and maybe his ideals were more out of the ordinary than he anticipated.

“It’s put a bit of a strain on our relationship. She wants to settle down and I… I thought I did, too, but… you know, my places have been growing so much, and…”

As he trailed off and off through a list of excuses, it took you all the way back to the night that it rained. You also spat excuses from your pockets and got nowhere. Now, Minho was on your side, but it didn’t feel great, either.

“What’s more important to you?” you asked.

That was the age-old dilemma, wasn’t it? What was most important to someone as an adult who spent most of their life getting educated and preparing for the professional world to milk money from consumers; the career they adored and earned or the love they found along the way? One could argue they could live without love, but could one live with themselves if they gave up their dream? How many rom-coms have you and Minho laughed at where the world that movie was set in was in a vacuum and the couple always chose each other? Though the plot was fake, the dilemma was real, and the choices they made in the movies were just not realistic.

“Important,” he chuckled, understanding what you were getting at. “Why can’t both be important to me?”

“They can, but it’s clear your efforts are imbalanced in one direction. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation.”

The fries were long gone. Minho stood up and tossed the bag in the trash before grabbing the unfinished bottle of wine leftover from your birthday and two glasses. You supposed tonight would be the most appropriate night to finish it off. Plus, Minho needed it, apparently.

“I tried, you know,” he sighed, “I really did. I text every night; I send her flowers to her office; I cook for her, shower her with gifts, and tell her regularly that I-I…”

Minho didn’t complete his thought, but you knew what he meant to say. Why would he not, for your sake? “That you love her?”

“Yeah. That I loved her.” Your glasses raised in sync. “I get it. I’m not as present, and I get her love language is quality time, but when did the thought stop counting?”

“Have you considered you two aren’t compatible?”

“Anyone can be compatible, no? Where’s the effort?”

Now you were feeling annoyed. Were these digs subconsciously at you? “Effort can only go so far. You said her love language is quality time. You could do everything in between, but you’re not there to hold her, to kiss her, to tangle under the bed sheets as much as she wants, then guess what? She’s never going to feel the love that she wants and deserves.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

“I don’t know what you want. Does she? Do you?”

Minho chugged the rest of the cabernet in his glass, nose wrinkling, before pouring in more with a heavy hand. You ignored how cute his nose looked. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Ok, so you can’t complain is what I’m hearing.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose, annoyed that someone who he confided in didn’t feed into his fantasy that his ideology was gospel.

“Ahh!” he groaned loudly to the ceiling. “Fucking hell. I thought this was supposed to get easier when we were older?”

“What? Love?” you scoffed. “Look at us; I’m stuck on the apps and you’re stuck in your ways. You think this gets easier just because we have more ‘life experience’?” Your air quotes were overly exaggerated. “No, dude. People are dumb at every age.”

“I’m not dumb,” he pouted.

“You’re a little dumb.”

He giggled a bit and it traveled down his belly to a full laugh. You couldn’t help but smile, too, which grew into your own fit of laughs, and the condo was filled with ugly laughs and tears of joy, pain, and all that was locked inside your’s and Minho’s souls since inception. These nights were the ones you once looked forward to.

When the giggles died down, he stared blankly at the swirling wine in the glass and asked, “Do you think we could have worked out?”

You felt your cheeks and nose flare brightly. “Worked out? Like if we tried?”

In some other tangential timeline, Minho moved to the city. Maybe he still bought out ‘RED LIGHT’, and you would visit him everyday after work and bring your coworkers in to show off your hot bartender boyfriend. Then, you’d take the train home together. You’d wind down on the couch watching a couple episodes of something light and crawl into bed in each other’s arms. Your lips would never leave his unless it was to come up for air, arms wrapped around his naked torso as he crawled on top, and mumbling praises and poems of how much you adored him.

Like an asteroid that orbits a planet, you revolve your life around him and his happiness. If you tried long distance or if you gave up your career, it would be a difficult feat, and happiness would not be found in that desert. Leaving for the city was for the best. He eventually found his oasis, and you were still on the long journey of finding yours in between the infinite dunes.

Before you realized, your nose burned some more and your vision blurred. “I think it still would have been really hard.”

“Would it have been worth it?”

“I think…” you hesitated, but the wine in your veins was overtaking, “it would only have been worth it if it was with you.”

“Then, why?” he begged. “What happened to ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’?”

“After all this time, you still can’t see what I see. I never want to risk something where I would lose you. So, I didn’t think I’d lose you if I said no.”

“This is… so stupid…”

“Don’t insult me in my home.”

“No, I… I…” he stuttered, and it’s just now you see his eyes were glossy, too. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so fucking stupid.”

It was stupid; you moved out to move on, and here he was at your door bringing you french fries and opening bars across from where you work, invading your life like a decade-old infectious disease with no ailment known to man-kind. It was stupid; he was taken, spitting out confessions of his failing love story to the one he ended, telling you he still thinks of you before he sleeps. It was very stupid, and it pained you not to fall for it.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“______ -”

“You can’t think of me.”

He reached out across the table to take your hands. You allowed it, because you were a weak, weak woman, starving for touch and hungry for him. His skin was rough and tired from the dehydrating soaps of the service industry, but they felt so right.

“Tell me you don’t think of me,” he demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll leave.”

“What does it mean for you to leave? You will leave my home, and then what? Will you try to be better for her? You’ll stay in my life and we can be friends? Or will you leave permanently and change the dynamic of our friend group forever for the second time?” By now, the tears were falling and words choked as they came out, but your grip on him betrayed you and you held on like he was hanging off a cliff.

“I… The… The former…”

“Then, no. No, I don’t think of you. I’m not tormented by you, I’m not in ruins when I see you, I don’t smell you on my clothes, I don’t see you when I close my eyes, or in stranger’s faces when they pass, I don’t dream of you, and I definitely don’t think of you every second of everyday!”

“You can’t even convince yourself anymore. Why won’t you be vulnerable with me?”

“Vulnerability is weakness, Minho! I have been strong for so long; without you, at that!” your voice was shrill and loud and you couldn't be bothered to sit. You were up from your chair, leaning over the table, and he winced as you kept going. “You come here, turn my life upside down, and ask me to be vulnerable? To lower my guard around you? After you abandoned me all because the circumstances weren’t right at that moment? Fuck you.”

He got up from the table to get to you and towered over you, torso much wider than you remembered. He was too close, and you could feel him feel you. Your body hadn’t turned to face him, too scared to face your biggest fear, so he forced it upon you by holding your shoulders. His eyes, so big and brown that it was easy to drown in them, dug deep into yours and pleaded with everything he had in his heart.

“Fine, don’t be vulnerable, but show yourself some mercy, for fuck’s sake.”

“Mercy? I want someone I can’t have. How does that merit mercy?”

He faltered a bit and you regretted the moment you invited him in. His eyebrows furrowed in what you thought was pity. Your head dropped in shame; that was the last thing you needed. His hands moved to hold your face as if he never wanted you to drop something so precious to him ever again.

“Don’t,” you repeated.

His forehead connected with yours and suddenly, you felt young again. It’s what you needed, what you wanted, but…

“I want to kiss you.”

The rush from five years ago hit you like a truck. “I want to kiss you, too.”

Every emotion, every desire, collided into the kiss. His hands swiftly moved to your waist and pulled you in until every millimeter of you touched some part of him and soon your hands were lost in his hair. His lips were soft, and you always imagined them to feel like petals of a tulip, but he was earnest and there was some pain in the amount of pressure he pressed into you. The pain felt good, the feeling of being wanted made your heart soar, and you two exchanged gasps and moans as your lips moved fervently, hungry for indulgence after being teased with temptation. But his tongue tasted sour, and bitter, and nothing like the coffee and chocolate you once dreamed of, because this circumstance was yet again not right. He tasted like rotting fruit because stolen fruit was never sweet.

You broke away, gasping and sniffling and it was so hard to breathe. “You’re not mine,” you cried.

“But you have always been mine,” he whispered, with his breath ghosting your lips.

You shook your head, over and over until you freed yourself from his grip, wishing you’d be free of him forever. You turned your back to him, unable to show your face as you said, “I think you should leave.”

Back then, you wished he fought for you as much as he wished you to do the same. You wished he’d followed you, or waited for you until the time was right, but of course time didn’t wait for anyone. Deep down, as you broke into pieces in your dining room, you hoped he’d fight for you then, too, and proclaim that his heart belonged to only you. You were fooled twice, and as the saying goes, shame on you.

The failure of reciprocity would weigh you down just as much. You never fought for him the way you wished he would for you for the simple fact that you weren’t allowed to. He was a taken man, a man who said not too long ago how he told her he loved her every single night, and it would destroy you how he’d go home later and still say those words.

You believed everyone was worthy of love, including you. The love you wanted wasn’t supposed to feel tainted or spoiled. No matter how much you wanted him, how much he claimed he wanted you from the very start, you wouldn’t be that kind of woman who stole someone’s man, and therefore you would not confess to anything else that lay hidden away in your heart.

Minho left quietly. The battle was over, and you broke down on the floor.

Heavy and loud sobs escaped your quivering lips in a poor attempt to dissipate the pain that expanded in your chest. Your cries echoed into the open loft until you couldn’t stand the sound of your voice and wasting tissues, but your body wouldn’t let up. So, you transferred yourself to the bathroom, running a hot shower and curling up on the tile until the water ran cold. Here, your cries were muffled by the artificial rain, just as you had cried into the storm that ugly night long ago.

You called in sick the following day.

–

For the next quarter, you were happy you were swamped with work, for once. That meant waking up early, taking the train when the sun had barely risen, and leaving when it had long gone to sleep. It was the same for most people in the office and you were blessed with not having to conjure up a lie to get away from San’s advances to get you to happy hour.

In sum, you hoped it meant you’d be too busy to think of him, but when you had only a single moment, a single second of freedom, he invaded every bit of you. He was a virus, a parasite, sucking the life out of you like he was reminding you what you desired that once was within arms reach was now lost forever. Like Icarus, you fell from the ether into despair, surrounded by darkness from the absence of the sun in your only moments outside of the office. On days when you were off, you had begged your boss to let you come in, to distract you with some enrichment of any stupid task even if it meant gluing together inadvertently shredded proprietary documents for sixteen hours, but HR would catch on too quickly, was what he said.

You hoped to fall hopelessly in this troposphere of purgatory forever, operating through the days on autopilot, but your heart had sunk to your gut and it ached to land on the earth to end the pain. Just as you were getting the hang of flowing with the wind, Minho called once. Then, he called twice. On the third, you almost answered, but when your eyes welled and you struggled to breathe, you figured it was your body’s reaction to falling faster and further beneath the clouds. You spent those nights he called curled up in some corner of your home under a multitude of blankets waiting for the headache and heartache to subside, but by then the night turned to dawn and time was limited.

Chaeryoung would call, too; she’d text; she’d send you food, coffee, and chocolates, and much of it went cold because any sight of food made you nauseous. Lately, you moved so slow that sustenance wasn’t a necessity anymore, nor was it a pleasure. She was always quite the worrywart, so you tried to answer as much and as vaguely as you could, but at one point it was too exhausting to keep up the lie and you gave up, leaving her with one-worded answers that didn’t satisfy either party.

And so you continued to fall; continued to cry, rot, and falter when all you had done was taste forbidden fruit.

His birthday approached faster than you could get over him.

For a while, no one seemed to mind your absence besides Chaeryoung and Minho, who had called to see if you were attending any of the last-minute get-togethers or planned reservations in the recent month. The one big one you regretted missing was Chan’s birthday, who was rightfully miffed, but you hoped the gift you shipped would make up for it. You kept up with social media, though, and liked all the pictures that came from those nights. 

Each post, you’d look for him. You’d admire what he was wearing; you’d wonder what cologne he was wearing; you’d imagine the way his eyes lit up when Karina walked in the room. But she wasn’t in any of the photos.

You didn’t tell anyone what transpired the second time with Minho. It was too embarrassing to have fallen for him twice, which sent feminism back at least a decade. You were going to conjure up some work-related lie to get out of his birthday celebration, but Chaeryoung wouldn’t allow it and even went as far as messaging San for confirmation about your work schedule.

In a huff, she busted through to your home before you could reject her kindness. Normally, your girl was all smiles and full of expressions, but tonight she was strict and stern, which meant she was mad. Very mad.

“I need you to not message my coworkers, please,” you said as she filtered through your closet. “I don’t want a meeting with HR on Monday.”

She didn’t turn to face you when she snapped, “It felt like you were lying, so I had to double check.”

“I wasn’t lying. It was busy, but we just lightened up after the deadline yesterday.”

“So, why couldn’t you tell me that?”

“I needed an excuse to not go tonight.”

She shook her head, clearly frustrated with how insufferable you were being. She turned to you with glossy eyes and you regretted avoiding her lately. “Aren’t I your friend?”

Her having to ask really stung. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then can’t you tell me why you disappeared for three months?”

“I… it’s hard, Chaer…”

“For God’s sake, _____, you’re thirty. Act like it, and use your words!”

“I can’t,” your voice cracked, “I can’t see Minho.”

Her face softened, realizing maybe that night when she left you with someone you saw as a stranger was not what a best friend did. You watched her scan through your slumped posture and sunken eyes before she lunged and hugged you tightly. Tears burned, the feeling of gentle humanity fulfilling your highest hierarchy of needs overflowing all your emotions.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We kissed,” you whispered back.

“And?”

“I kissed back.”

“But?”

“He’s not mine.”

She pushed you to arms length, eyes knitting sternly. “I think you should go tonight.”

“Chaer -”

“Trust me. You might regret it. It’s his thirtieth, after all.” She pushed away the hairs that cling to your forehead before running to grab some make up. “Let me do your make-up! It’ll be like your twenty-first all over again.”

She sat you down on your bed and began to dab away at the color-correcting pallet. A box of tissues lay next to her so she could catch the tears before they fell. She created a large pile in the end.

“Do you want him to be yours?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

You wanted to smell him on your clothes, adore him in your dreams, and wake up next to him. You want him to be yours, only yours, and to not have to share him with someone who he also chose. Under this sanguine circumstance, still, you smiled at this very thought, because of course the answer was, “Yes.”

And she, too smiled, her own tears forming while she dabbed yours with another fist full of tissues. “Then, go to him.”

“But -”

“_____,” she breathed sternly, sniffling a bit. “You stupid, stupid people-pleaser. Fight for yourself, for once.”

When you thought the battle was long over, little did you know you were still fighting all this time.

Despite trying not to think of him, as his birthday approached, the calendar terrorized you to get him a gift. Just in case, you know? It was a fancy Nakiri knife whose steel was decorated in waves. The Internet told you that a chef’s knife was similar to that of a samurai’s sword, so only the highest quality of Damascus steel was preferred. As you held the box in your hand at his front steps, your mind and heart kept battling with each other and debated whether or not getting a personal gift was too intimate versus a gift card to some generic restaurant to establish a boundary.

But wasn’t the boundary already too blurry, anyways?

Chaeryoung pushed you inside the already-unlocked door. All the boys and their partners and Chaeryoung’s now-official real man were already there surrounding the island. Minho, who just had a grin on, dropped it quickly upon seeing you come in and straightened his back. It’s like deja vu from your birthday.

Karina wasn't present.

Your body’s instinct was to turn and run out the door, but Chaeryoung anticipated your every move and was quick to block you. She squeezed your hand and tugged you further inside. You greeted the boys and their partners first, who all said a variation of, ‘long time, no see,’ before reaching Minho. His expression was still starstruck and confused. He didn’t appear angry. Perhaps it was a feeling worse than that, which could not be translated through his face.

With sweaty hands, you handed him the small rectangular box. “Happy birthday.”

He was hesitant to take it, as if to question the possibility of diffusion of poison through the skin. His hesitancy allowed you to get a whiff of his bourbon vanilla cologne. “Thank you.”

“Oh, so you’ll come for Minho’s birthday, but not mine?” Chan pouted.

“Some things are worth coming out for,” you retorted.

The night went on and you played your role as an onlooker in the background, hoping to blend in with the walls and remain unnoticed so as to not ruin the night. You watched him and the boys shove each other playfully and inhale any and all food Minho made. Who’s to say that thirty was old when the epitome of youth was in the souls of a group of hungry boys? Conversations and debates picked up from when they last saw each other. Some of them filled you in and others forced you to answer without knowing the majority opinion. Laughs and giggles filled the kitchen and even when it seemed that Minho didn’t want to whenever you answered, he couldn’t help himself from smiling at your ridiculous answers, though he stopped when he’d catch you watching him.

As the clock ticked forward, your anticipation for Karina to pop in at any moment dwindled. Maybe she was also having a rough quarter three and taking a late night at the office, but to miss her boyfriend’s thirtieth was… a choice, even if they were fighting or some other strange reason. But then four hours turned to six hours and then it was, ‘damn, it’s already 2:00 AM?’ and she never came.

“Are you ready to go?” Chaeryoung asked at the front door.

Minho was now alone in the kitchen and there were a lot of dishes left to wash. You should help him.

“No,” you said. “I’ll call you later.”

She had a hard time hiding her grin as she left.

You approached him slowly like how you’d approach an angry cat because he was scrubbing the dishes a little too furiously. He didn’t look up despite knowing what you were up to.

“Can I help?” you asked.

Still, he refused to look at you, but he handed you the sponge. Well, that was progress, right?

Dishes and clean up were completed in silence. No chit-chat, no music, just the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the cupboards. The task was finished in good time, and just before you decided that your stay was long overdue, he pulled another deja vu card.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled to the floor.

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. Chaeryoung told me to come.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve.”

A salty laugh - or perhaps a scoff - was uttered. He was tired, you were tired, and the air was cold and stale. The topics orbited like a satellite, coming ‘round for another turn for a different thirtieth celebration, if either of you would even call it that.

Minho let out a big sigh. “Only you can disappear for three months and come back into open arms.”

The words arranged sounded like a compliment, but it was clearly the opposite. “I don’t expect to be forgiven.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I tried calling you.”

“I know.”

“Texting. E-mailing. Fuck, even snail mailing!”

“I know…”

He threw his hands in the air, as he did whenever he was frustrated, and turned to take a breather from your nonchalance. You were supposed to be fighting for him, not letting him slip away like this, but why was this so hard when loving him came easily?

“I shouldn’t have come over that night,” he said after returning. “I was trying too hard to be friends again and I crossed a point where I couldn’t return from.”

“Isn’t that the story of our friendship?”

“Is that how you feel?”

“We were never really just friends, were we?” you teased.

“No,” he admitted softly, “we never were.”

Your eyes met for the first time that night. His were red and puffy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in three months.

You swallowed the rock in your throat. “Where’s Karina?”

“I don’t know. I broke up with her a while ago.”

Your chest felt tight and your voice bubbled out a garbled, “Why?”

And his mirrored, to the point where he had to clear his throat. “I don’t love her anymore.”

“So, is it true? Is it better to have loved and lost?”

“I wouldn’t exchange my days with her for anything.”

It didn’t make sense; it just didn’t. When someone loved that deeply, how could they throw that person away so easily?

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat. “I loved her and she loved me. It was fulfilling, and now it’s not. It’s just how it is.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“If it means I get to feel like I’m flying, I think I can handle it.”

The concept, the idea of that, was just too hard to grasp. It took your wax wings melting to realize that the journey upwards was worth the descent.

“Enough about my failures,” he said hoarsely, “What about you? How… how are you doing?”

How were you supposed to admit that tonight was the first night you had a proper meal? That sleep only came under the influence of some generic-brand silver liquor? That you plucked a fist full of grey hairs the day before? Would admitting to vulnerability prove that you were fighting for this? For him? Or would it make you look pathetic?

“I’ve been doing fine.”

The centers of his brows scrunched together and his lips pursed. He inhaled heavily, his sniffles echoing through his quiet home.

“Are you?” he stuttered, voice distorted and desperate. “Really?”

No, of course not, and that much was clear when you started to cry.

“Because,” he continued, “if you can’t tell, I’m… dying on the inside.”

“Because of me?” you whispered, feeling the weight of your actions collapsing.

“Because of you. It’s always because of you. Everyday for the past ten years. It’s always been you.”

“Why couldn’t you forget me? Why? When you were the one to throw me away?”

“How!” he cried out. “How could I forget about you, when all I wanted was you?”

“You wanted to change me! You wanted me to abandon my career.” “I wanted you to try!”

“And you were right!” Sobs choked in your chest. “You were right. If I loved you, I should have fought for you. I should have tried harder. And I really shouldn’t have admitted those feelings to you when you were not mine. For everything that I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.”

“You should be. You are so mean,” he hissed, pointing harshly. “You torture me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Even when I close my eyes, I see you.”

“I’m sorry -”

“I named my fucking bar after your favorite flower! And now you stand here in my home asking me to forget about you? How am I supposed to even begin doing that, hm? How, when everything around me reminds me of you?”

Your sobs were visceral and messy, and you buried your face in your hands. Maybe tears held the youth Ponce de Leon searched his whole life for the way yours could fill the fountain in minutes and how wiping them took away two decades of your life.

“I’m going to ask you once more,” he whispered. “One last time, and I’ll leave it be forever because I’m fucking tired. Do you think of me as often as I think of you?”

You caved in when all else went wrong and there was nothing else to hide. “Everyday.”

“Do you want me as much as I want you?”

“No,” you replied, “Because I need you. Now, let me ask you: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

His lips quivered before he laughed and you do, too, because that was the cringiest thing you’ve ever said. He held your face, that precious face of yours that he adored so much, dabbing away your tears. His eyes fluttered to your lips, a habit he couldn’t shake off after all these years.

“I need you to kiss me,” he demanded.

He tasted like honey and his lips fit yours like the second half of a two-piece puzzle. This was slow and deliberate, no longer going at the crushing speed of fervent passion because you had all the time in the world together now, and Minho was always the type of man to take his time. You couldn’t stand to leave his lips even for air and they ghosted his only for a few seconds before you tip-toed and pressed yourself deeper against him. Your hands were occupied with gripping his shirt at his waist to keep him in place. When you felt his smile on your lips, you grinned back and held him by his beautiful face.

“I need you to stay,” he formed on your lips.

“All I need is you,” you answered.

Even while traveling to his bedroom, both of you refused to separate as you bumped into furniture.

“We should take this slow,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Get acquainted with each other, or whatever,” you concurred after removing his belt.

“Maybe get coffee some time?” he asked into the crook of your neck.

“Or a drink? I know this really cute bar called ‘DAHLIA’.”

He threw you onto his bed. After removing his shirt, he crawled on top. “I think I’ve heard it.”

“Oh yeah?” You undid his pants zipper. “I know the bartender. A little narcissistic, though; he thinks he’s so hot.”

He trailed kisses down your lips, to your neck, to your sternum, to your stomach, until the top of your panties where his fingers hooked. “I know he is.”

You called Chaeryoung the next afternoon. At first, she scolded you for not texting her when you got home, but when she checked your location during the call, she screamed so loud that Minho dropped the spatula while making your breakfast.

The sanguine satellite would continue to orbit her world and revolve her life around his happiness; and he would continue to do the same.

[dropout-if]

DEMO (coming soon) - FAQ - NAVIGATION

Dropout is an upcoming (and a side project!) +18 slice-of-life interactive fiction game. Loosely inspired by media such as In the Heights and Night in the Woods.

Tag(s): Slice of life, Drama, Romance, YA, LGBTQ+, Text-based.

You take the train home from college after nearly four years away, knowing you will be welcomed with open arms, bright smiles, and the sincerest congratulations from your friends and family, from the entire neighborhood. Their pride has not been misplaced, for better or for worse, you are the one: the only one who made it into college.

This is your first summer home since you began studying in Stanford. That is what everyone thinks.

This is your first summer home since you dropped out of college, thus becoming the biggest disappointment in your neighborhood. That is what only you know.

Trigger Warning(s): Crude humor, Strong language, optional sex scenes, Violence, Depression and depictions of other mental illnesses, Substance use, Unwanted pregnancy (a RO's, Wanda).

A short disclaimer

Features and Characters below!

Return to your home, the fictional neighborhood of Downtown Heights, where you're treated like a local hero because of your grand achievement.

Determine how you managed to make it into college and why you decided to call it quits.

Reunite with your high school friends and acquaintances, with whom you've barely spoken in the past few years.

Romance one (or more) of the six old faces waiting for you in Downtown Heights.

Customize your Main Character! From their teenage years to their young adulthood, from physicality to personality. Be it your traits, flaws, and vices: everything shapes your return home.

Navigate the very dramatic shenanigans of young adulthood.

Queer relationships • RO Intros • ROs' Social Media • RO Facts

Jean/Jade Gray (he/him or she/her): THE EX • 23 years old

J and you were good. Until you weren't, and then they broke up with you right before you left for college. The two of you promised to stay as friends, but, like most promises between you and J, that too was meant to be broken. Your ex is often considered to be ambitious, determined, and cutthroat. You honestly expected them to be well out of the neighborhood.

Exes to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (v and triad) with J and Kai.

Uma Bharat (they/them): THE OLD FRIEND • 22 years old

It has always been you and Uma, and this has been something you covetously believed to be true. But then the distance settled in, and then the many years in which you lived abroad. You can't claim to know them as well as you once did. Uma once dreamed of being a successful painter, and they have never given up on art (though they sometimes feel like art has given up on them).

Childhood best friends to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (triad) with Uma and Travis.

Statler Amani (he/him or she/her): THE HEARTTHROB • 25 years old

You knew Statler back in high school, though they can't claim to have known of you until you made it out of the neighborhood. Many years ago, they were every high schooler's dream partner: kind, polite, intelligent. Their current partner must be proud. Nowadays, Statler works as hard as they can to help their family.

Unrequited crush to lovers. Statler is already in a relationship, a (more-or-less) toxic one.

Wanda Pavon (she/her): THE MODEL • 22 years old

Wanda had a future in modeling, the two of you were in the same group of friends in high school, and you never doubted she would be capable of making it out of the neighborhood. Her self-assertive and spontaneous personality surely would have made Wanda's road a little easier. You only find out why Wanda stayed in Downtown Heights when you meet her daughter.

Friends to lovers. Wanda is a single mother, her daughter's name is Gabi.

Kai Alofa (he/him or she/her): THE ROOMMATE • 24 years old

Kai's glow-up is the reason some Downtown Heights grandmothers believe in magic. The high school nerd turned fuckboy/girl has spent the past few years traveling around the state. Like you, they are back for the summer, ready to disappoint their parents. Rooming together comes as a natural result of delaying said disappointment (or so Kai claimed).

Friends with benefits to lovers (mandatory to romance Kai). It's possible start a poly relationship (v and triad) with Kai and J.

Travis Camaro (he/him): THE RIVAL • 21 years old

Uma, Travis and you were considered to be inseparable: it was the three of you against the world. That is no longer the case. A massive argument completely shattered the friendship Travis and you had. You know he resents you, you know he's jealous you managed to make it out and that he was left behind. And that's all you know. Travis has always been... a private guy.

(Past friends) to enemies/rivals to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (triad) with Travis and Uma.

Choosing a route.

The Dropout's Family

The list of flings!

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

I had a long argument with someone on whether or not stomping Belos before he dies was better than letting him die pathetically, and I asked myself if that is what fans really believe in... or if they would hail any Belos' death as the perfect one if Dana choose a different one?

They also justify the stomping as being part of horror-comedy genre and that Belos should not have any dignity what so ever because apparently letting him die in despair with no stomping is running the risk of making the audience feel "sorry" for him.

Honestly, these justifications make The Owl House feel more shallow. Like, why shouldn't the audience be allowed to feel sorry for Belos? What is the danger? That people would agree with Belos' views?

Or are we supposed to develop a black and white view of the world akin to a conservative view but inverted? And then hide behind the horror comedy genre to justify less drama? I hate to say it, but Nostalgia Critic is right about Belos being this strange outlier. The show seems to be afraid of actually doing a complex, tragic and yet irredeemable villain.

It doesn't make any sense to argue that Belos' death fits because of toh's genre as a horror comedy because the scene was neither played for horror nor laughs. At best, you have the image of Philip slowly being dissolved by the rain and then Raine's smug "that was satisfying" line. The overall tone of the scene is one of contempt as Philip tries one last plea to Luz only to be snuffed out (and weirdly validated) by the heroes. Its intent is to be cathartic for both audience (though as you know doubt know, YMMV) and the characters.

Frankly, despite its marketing, I don't see toh as either a horror or a comedy because it spends more time on slice of life stuff and high school teen drama and romance. And even when it does go for the horror and comedy, both are rather tepid. You want a real example of a horror-comedy for kids, then go watch Courage the Cowardly Dog or Invader Zim.

The reason why I argue the heroes validated Belos is because in the moment of his death, he clings to the idea that as humans, "we're better than this!" It's a moment of pathetic delusion that is appropriately met with silence but then it's ruined with Eda and Co. barging in with "Well, we ain't!" only to then prove his point by mercilessly stomping an already dying man to death. There's a reason why kid shows usually end with either the villain being imprisoned or not outright being murdered by the heroes. Evil has to die by its own hubris, not get killed by the heroes after the Big Battle when they're no longer a threat. I made a post about the importance of defeating a major antagonist twice.

Belos' death also doesn't work with a "Kill your oppressors" theme because the show isn't about that. The show barely spends any time showing why the EC is bad for the Boiling Isles and Eda is the only named wild witch we see getting harassed by them and even then, it's mostly played for laughs given how inept the coven scouts are (seriously, they're able to quit without fear of repercussions).

I think a reason fans are split on Belos' death is because of differing expectations; the fans who paid attention to Belos and the implication of his backstory and waited for every lie to come crashing down on him since that's what the show seemed to be building up to only to be unceremoniously ignored in the end were no doubt disappointed. Then you have the other fans who hated the character to the point that any gruesome death will do, regardless whether it made narrative or thematic sense or not.

Ultimately, I think the biggest reason his death doesn't work is because Belos fails as a villain.

Belos' status as a colonial puritan only works on a meta-level; it serves a cathartic release for marginialized people to see a representative of real world oppression beaten by queer characters as it fulfills the fantasy of finally overthrowing an oppressive system. The fatal flaw though is that none of this works on a narrative level because the coven system is either treated as a joke or simply a career path one must choose and we never see the disenfranchisement of wild witches. People largely get off scot-free opposing Belos, which undermines his credibility as both a dictator and a villain because no one cares about him until the plot needs them to. Luz doesn't even care about proving he's evil until Hollow Mind, which is halfway through season 2.

Belos as a villain only works if you project your own feelings and desires in wanting to see the Evil Christian/Evil Parent destroyed. While this is extremely satisfying emotionally, it does not make a sound story.

All the reasons why people like his death ("it's great the evil colonizer died so pathetically!" "omg, the white christian colonizer was killed by two queer people and their adopted son!" etc) are all meta reasons. And to be clear, it's totally fine if you thought his death was satisfying. But for many people, it did not work for a variety of reasons, including narrative ones. And that differing opinion should be respected instead of arguing some nonsense like "we have to make our villain as stupid/evil as possible or run the risk of people liking/sympathizing with him."

Belos should have died in a manner that connected back to his original sin: the murder of his brother. All of his lies and delusions and fear of being wrong should have played a part in the finale. He should have not died thinking he was right. He should have died realizing that all he did was for nothing. And that he is to blame. And that there is no one waiting for him back home.

[penguinsnoot]

20 Anime You Should Watch

I’ve been getting into anime again recently, and thought I’d share some that I like! These are in no particular order. I gave very short, simplistic descriptions of each show, but I recommend looking them up for full summaries to get a better idea of what they’re about.

1) Cells at Work! (2 seasons, 22 episodes) [Comedy]

Anthropomorphic cells living in a human’s body. Focuses on a red blood cell that frequently encounters a white blood cell during dangerous bodily infestations and illnesses.

2) Kaichou wa Maid-sama! (1 season, 26 episodes) [Comedy, Romance]

Focuses on the female school president of a previously all-male school who directs and rules over them harshly. She secretly works at a maid café, which is discovered by a popular male classmate of hers. 

3) Ouran High School Host Club (1 season, 26 episodes) [Comedy, Romance]

Student Haruhi Fujioka stumbles upon a host club in the prestigious Ouran Academy. After accidentally breaking an expensive vase, she must work for the club to pay off her debt.

4) Lost Song (1 season, 12 episodes) [Music, Fantasy]

Rin is a girl from a small village who dreams of singing in the capital city. Her singing has the power to heal any wound. Rin and her brother, Al, journey to the capital when their home is attacked by soldiers hoping to capture Rin. Finis, who also has a magical voice, performs for the royal palace. She falls in love with a soldier named Henry and must hide their relationship from the prince. She and Rin have intersecting destinies and both struggle with the terrible circumstances that life throws at them. 

5) Clannad (2 seasons, 47 episodes) [Drama, Romance, Supernatural]

Delinquent Tomoya meets ill Nagisa and they become friends. Along with four other girls, Tomoya decides to help Nagisa revive the school’s drama club. He finds himself helping each girl with their respective problems and learns that life may not be as dull as he once thought. 

6) Fruits Basket (3 seasons, 64 episodes) [Drama, Romance, Supernatural]

Homeless Tohru Honda moves in with members of the mysterious Soma family. When she accidentally learns of the family’s curse of them turning into animals when embraced by a member of the opposite sex, she resolves to help them figure out how to lift the curse. 

7) Kamisama Hajimemashita (2 seasons, 25 episodes) [Comedy, Fantasy, Romance]

Offered a home by a man being attacked by a dog, Nanami is surprised to find a seemingly abandoned shrine. When she tried to leave, she is confronted by the spirits of the shrine. Tomoe, the fox spirit, leaves angrily when he realizes it is not the land god, Mikage, who has entered their home and that he instead sent a human girl as replacement. Refusing to remain homeless, Nanami decided to serve the shrine and ends up forming a sealed contract with Tomoe when she kisses him. 

8) Princess Jellyfish (1 season, 11 episodes) [Comedy, Slice-of-life]

Tsukimi is an introvert with a love for jellyfish living with other socially isolated women in Tokyo. One day, she meets someone beautiful who looks like a princess and helps her save a jellyfish from a local pet store. The beautiful princess is revealed to actually be a crossdressing man named Kuranosuke. Despite their aversion to men and socializing in general, Kuranosuke resolves to help the women become more confident in themselves. 

9) Soul Eater (1 season, 51 episodes) [Action, Comedy, Fantasy] 

Follows three sets of meisters and their weapons as they fight demons and witches to obtain the status of Death Scythes. They attend a school founded by Lord Death and learn the best ways to recognize and defeat these evil entities. 

10) Yuri on Ice (1 season, 12 episodes) [Sports, Romance]

Figure skater Yuri meets champion skater Victor, who claims he is going to be Yuri’s new mentor. Yuri accepts and goes on a difficult journey of training in the world of competitive ice skating. 

11) BNA: Brand New Animal (1 season, 12 episodes) [Action, Fantasy, Comedy]

Michiru, after becoming a newly formed beastman, travels to Anima City, a safe haven for people like her. After witnessing an explosion during a celebration, she is confronted by detective Shirou Ogami. They team up to pursue the criminals involved with the explosion and discover why Michiru has suddenly started to turn into a Tanuki after being human all her life. 

12) Japan Sinks: 2020 (1 season, 10 episodes) [Drama, Sci-fi] 

Ayumu and family’s life is turned upside down when an earthquake strikes and obliterates Japan’s structural integrity. The Mutou family must find a way to survive and get out of the country before the entirety of Japan sinks into the ocean. 

13) Toradora (1 season, 25 episodes) [Drama, Romance]

Gentle yet fierce-looking Ryuji forms an unlikely friendship with sharp-tongued and violent Taiga. They try to help one another confess to their crushes while growing closer along the way.

14) A3! (2 seasons, 24 episodes) [Drama, Slice-of-life, Comedy]

Izumi confronts the loan sharks who are after money from her father’s run-down theater. She plans to bring the theater back into the spotlight and pay of the debt with the help from an all-male acting troupe.

15) Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun (1 season, 12 episodes) [Comedy, Romance]

Chiyo has a crush on her schoolmate, Nozaki, and confesses to him, but he mistakes her as a fan of his manga and gives her an autograph. Saying she wants to be with him, Nozaki invites her to help him with his drawings. Chiyo hopes that by helping Nozaki, he will eventually take notice of her romantic feelings for him.

16) Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku (1 season, 11 episodes) [Romance, Comedy]

Narumi and Hirotaka knew each other when they were younger and end up working in the same office. They decide to start dating, but find that their respective interests make it difficult to create romantic situations. 

17) K-On! (2 seasons, 39 episodes, 1 film) [Comedy, Slice-of-life]

Five high school students become friends and bandmates as they form the next generation of their school’s Light Music Club.

18) Violet Evergarden (1 season, 13 episodes, 2 films) [Fantasy, Drama]

Amidst working for a ghostwriting agency, past soldier Violet Evergarden learns to reconnect with her feelings while trying to understand the final words her commander left her with.

19) Given (1 season, 11 episodes, 1 film) [Drama, Romance]

Prepared to give up music for good, Ritsuka changes his mind after meeting Mafuyu. He gives Mafuyu guitar lessons in the hopes of making the other boy the lead singer for his band. 

20) Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai (1 season, 13 episodes, 1 film) [Drama, Romance, Supernatural]

Sakuta suffers from puberty-syndrome and sees a bunny girl that is invisible to others. When he meets the girl in real life, he realizes she’s going through her own problems and becomes attached to the bunny girl. 

[factorygirlsstuff]

Currently watching: Brewing Love, The Judge From Hell, Family By Choice & Love Game in Eastern Fantasy.

I started watching kdramas in May 2023 (updated 4/17/24)

My personal top 10:

It’s Okay to not be Okay (top fav) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A road to emotional healing opens up for an antisocial children's book author and an employee in a psychiatric hospital. (amazing chemistry & found family)

Crash Landing on You ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A paragliding mishap drops a South Korean heiress in North Korea - and into the life of an army officer, who decides he will help her hide. (lots of crying but worth it)

Hometown Cha Cha Cha ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

At a crossroads, a dentist moves to a seaside village where she meets a handyman intent on helping his neighbours. (my most rewatched)

Her Private Life ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Dedicated art gallery curator Sung Deok Mi is a fanatic fan girl of White Ocean's Cha Shi-an, a dark secret she hides from everyone. (really supportive relationship, weird last couple of eps)

Business Proposal ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In disguise as her friend, Ha-ri shows up on a blind date to scare away her friend's prospective suitor. However, plans go awry when he turns out to be Ha-ri's CEO and he makes a proposal. (my first kdrama! Super cute & funny)

Touch Your Heart ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A famous actress, gets caught in a scandal with a son of a rich family; with her career declining quickly, she looks for one last hope to get back on the screen. She lands a role playing a secretary in a drama & then becomes a real secretary in order to play the part. (Healthy relationship, office romance)

Welcome to Samdalri ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

After suffering a fall from grace, a photographer returns to her hometown and bumps into her childhood friend, rekindling an unfinished romance. (childhood friends to lovers & slice of life/healing)

Happiness ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The residents of a high-rise apartment fight for their lives against a deadly infectious disease while Sae-bom and Yi-hyun try to find the person because of whom the virus spread. (I think I really love friends to lovers)

Something in the Rain ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

When a single career woman reunites with her best friend's younger brother after he returns from three years of working abroad, their efforts to reconnect grow into romance. (they just felt so real to me, the romance was 🤌🏼, worst mom)

Cheer Up ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A working-class girl joins her college's down-and-out cheerleading team, where she finds friendship, love, and an old-school campus mystery. (idk they felt real too, worst SML though)

Other kdramas I finished:

Healer ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (binged in 2 days)

What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (love PMY)

Love to Hate You ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (Maybe I binged it too fast, but I don’t remember it lol)

Our Beloved Summer ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (too slow for me & I usually don’t mind slow)

True To Love ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (main leads romance was everything)

Forecasting Love & Weather ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (something was off/missing)

Vincenzo ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (🫰🏼)

When the Weather is Fine ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (kinda slow but I binged it fast lol)

Squid Game ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

All of Us are Dead ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (I like zombie shows)

Alchemy of Souls ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Alchemy of Souls: Light & Shadow ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (the romance 🫰🏼)

Suspicious Partner ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (dragged in the middle but loved this couple)

Save Me ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (so good, just hard subject matter)

Shooting Stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (loved the main couple so much & so many other cute couples!)

Doona! ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (omg her visual, binged so fast)

Itaewon Class ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (binged so fast)

Descendants of the Sun ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (binged in 2 days)

Castaway Diva ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (first kdrama to watch while airing)

The Matchmakers ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (first sageuk, thought they were adorable)

Crazy Love ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (it was good, but didn’t do it for me 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Moving ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (I didn’t like all the flashbacks, but it was good overall)

Backstreet Rookie ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (for some reason I loved this couple so much, problematic SML & annoying SFL)

School 2017 ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (just perfect)

Dalie and the Cocky Prince ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (the pet names 🥰)

Soundtrack #1 ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (another friends to lovers)

Behind Your Touch ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (idk why but I loved it, it was so funny to me lol)

Thirty But Seventeen ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (great romance & cutest found family)

Kiss Sixth Sense ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (really liked it, last 20 minutes idk 🤷🏻‍♀️)

I Am Not A Robot ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (loved this, dragged a little in the middle)

My Man is Cupid ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (SML annoyed me, the cutest ending 🥰)

Gyensong Creature ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (I liked it, but it didn’t end I guess. So I’m waiting for season 2)

Cafe Minamdang ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (loved it so much! It made me laugh & loved the FL!)

My Man is Cupid ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (it was cute)

Marry My Husband ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (it was a lot of fun & loved watching it weekly with everyone)

My Holo Love ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (it was fine, only 12 eps so it was quick & slow burn romance.)

Queen of Divorce ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (it started off really interesting, but some things were never explained & I wanted more romance between the leads)

Doom at Your Service ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (I really liked it, the romance was SO good, but I was a little confused about how the contract worked.)

Doctor Slump ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (loved it SO much! Everything was so cute & loved the romance)

Flex x Cop ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (really loved it, gave me Castle vibes. #1 drama I was looking forward to every week. No romance, although we are getting a 2nd season so fingers crossed.)

Chicken Nugget ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (it was definitely weird, but I laughed a lot)

Wedding Impossible ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (really liked it, cute romcom)

Fight For My Way ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (loved it so much, binged it in a day! I could not stop watching, friends to lovers really is the best.)

Rookie Cops ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (really liked it at first, put on hold for a month, then the last few episodes were good again.)

Parasyte: The Grey ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (it was really good)

Mad for Each Other ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (so good! Loved everything about it, especially the couple)

Dropped: (I might try again 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Run On

Goblin

Hotel De Luna

Weight Lifting Fairy, Kim Bok-joo

King the Land

My Demon

True Beauty

The K2

Destined With You

The Story of Park’s Marriage Contract

Perfect Marriage Revenge

Moon in the Day

A Good Day to be a Dog

Open to recommendations!

[mononijikayu]

just one day — nanami kento.

Do you think, my darling,” he asked after a moment, his voice thoughtful, “that we’ll look back on this day and remember it as one of those rare, perfect moments?” You nuzzled against him, feeling his warmth envelop you. “I hope so. It feels perfect to me right now.” Kento’s smile grew, a look of contentment on his face. “Then it’s perfect. And it’s a memory I’ll cherish.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: NSFW, R-18+. Romance, Oral (f receiving), Masturbation (m receiving), Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Depiction of Sexual Acts, Depiction of Nudity, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Nudity, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: im back hello hello!!! its been a while since i did something for kento. but he won second place in the recent poll and this had to be published soon after. reader and nanami speak danish at home, because reader and kento are fluent. speaking danish at home together makes it easier for them to retain danish!!! anyway, enjoy this~ i love you all <3

main masterlist

what a wonderful world masterlist

safe and sound | just one day

next: i love you so

HE DOESN’T THINK HE’S EVER BEEN USED TO REST. Nanami Kento wasn’t one for lazy days. His life was always defined by structure, order, and discipline—but today, he found himself yearning for something different.

He woke up to the sun pouring through the curtains, a rare warmth on his face, and instead of feeling the usual rush of urgency to start his day, he felt… content. He had a day off, a luxury in his line of work, and there was only one thing he wanted to do with it: spend it with you. In all ways he can. In all ways he wants. Even if they were a little greedy on his part. 

The thing that woke you up was a soft, feather-light sensation, and it took you a moment to realize it was the brush of Kento's lips. He was nestled between your thighs, his face nuzzling against the tender skin, his mouth moving with an almost reverent slowness. A gasp escaped your lips, your hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in his tousled hair as he continued, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate patterns that sent shivers up your spine.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, and a soft mewl slipped from your throat as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer. The sound of your voice, the way your body trembled beneath his touch—Kento could feel his heart swell with a quiet kind of happiness, a fulfillment that came from these rare, precious moments of intimacy.

He didn’t rush. There was no need. For once, time stretched luxuriously before him, each second an opportunity to savor the taste of you, to feel the softness of your skin, and to relish the way your body responded to his every movement. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, hear the quiet hum of pleasure in his throat as he lost himself in the moment.

Your breaths grew shallow, each exhale a soft sigh that filled the quiet room. Every touch of his lips against you sent another wave of heat rushing through your body, an intoxicating mix of pleasure and tenderness that made your mind go blank. You could feel the slow, deliberate rhythm of his mouth against you, the gentle yet insistent pressure building as he explored every sensitive inch.

Kento's fingers tightened around your thighs, his grip firm yet affectionate. His touch was both a request and a command, guiding you closer to the edge with a patience that bordered on worship. You could sense his focus, his devotion in the way he moved—completely immersed in you, in the sounds you made, in the way your body trembled under his care.

Your hands slid from the sheets to his shoulders, gripping onto him as if anchoring yourself to reality. He looked up at you for a moment, his warm, honeyed eyes catching yours, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The expression was so soft, so utterly different from the usual calm and composed mask he wore, that it sent your heart racing even faster.

"Kento..." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, the name falling from your lips like a prayer. “My love….O–oh—”

He didn't answer, not with words. Instead, he hummed against you, a deep, satisfied sound that sent vibrations through your core. The sensation made you arch against him, a shiver running down your spine as he continued his gentle assault. His hands, strong and steady, slid up to cradle your hips, pulling you even closer as he redoubled his efforts.

That sweet, delicious pleasure had continued to build, an unstoppable tide rising higher and higher, and your body responded in kind, moving against his talented mouth with increasing urgency. You could feel the tension coiling in your stomach, tight and insistent, drawing closer and closer to the breaking point. 

And just when you thought you couldn't hold on any longer, when every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, he pulled back ever so slightly, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured your name with a softness that melted into your very soul.

"I want to see you, darling." he whispered, his voice husky, a rare vulnerability lacing his words. "Let me see you."

Your eyes fluttered open, and immediately, you were met with Kento’s gaze. The intensity there was almost overwhelming, as if he was seeing straight into your soul, making you feel like the only person in the world. His eyes bore into yours with a kind of fervor that left you breathless, and in that moment, nothing else seemed to exist—only him, only you, and the deep connection that bound you together. 

You felt the corners of his mouth curl into a smile against you, a grin that was both mischievous and filled with a quiet, determined hunger. There was a glint in his eye, a challenge, almost, and before you could take another breath, he pulled you closer, his hands firm yet gentle on your thighs, anchoring you in place. You gasped as his mouth began to move more urgently, his tongue working against you with a renewed fervor, each movement precise, deliberate. 

He devoured you with a raw, animalistic hunger that sent a shockwave of pleasure rippling through your entire body. The rhythm of his tongue was relentless, his mouth eager and commanding, sending electric shivers up your spine. Every stroke, every flick, every swirl of his tongue against you was masterful, calculated to draw out the most sinful sounds from your lips. You could feel your body responding, arching toward him, giving in to the pleasure that he was so expertly creating.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a soft cry escaping your lips as you gripped the sheets tightly, your fingers curling around the fabric as if it were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The sounds of your pleasure filled the room, mingling with the soft rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic pulse of your heartbeat in your ears. The heat of his mouth, the way his lips moved with purpose and confidence, sent you spiraling higher and higher, your mind going hazy, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of what you were feeling.

His hands pressed into the soft flesh of your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to hold you in place, to keep you from escaping the onslaught of pleasure he was determined to give you. The slight sting of his grip only heightened the sensations, drawing a strangled moan from your throat. You could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring wound to its limit, ready to snap.

He continued, undeterred, his mouth moving faster, harder, as if he could sense how close you were, as if he wanted to push you over that edge and watch you fall apart for him. His eyes never left yours, locked in a gaze so intense it was almost too much to bear. It was as if he was silently demanding you to give in, to surrender completely to the pleasure he was giving you, and you found yourself unable to resist.

The sunlight poured over the bed, bathing you both in a warm, golden glow, and you felt it—felt the rush building, cresting like a wave about to break. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure almost too much, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. And then, with a cry that was both raw and helpless, you shattered, your body trembling, your back arching off the bed as you came, waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless succession.

For a moment, there was nothing but white-hot sensation, your body convulsing with the force of your release, every nerve alive, every muscle taut. You could hear your own voice, your cries mingling with the sound of his name, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis, time itself pausing in the wake of your climax.

Kento didn’t stop, didn’t slow, his tongue continuing its relentless rhythm, prolonging your pleasure, drawing out every last shiver, every last gasp, until you were nothing more than a trembling, breathless mess beneath him. When he finally eased back, his lips were swollen, glistening with your arousal, a satisfied smile on his face. His hands moved up to your hips, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as if to soothe the raw edges of your pleasure.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and adoration, his breathing heavy, his face flushed with desire. “Beautiful, darling.” he murmured, his voice low and thick with satisfaction, as if he’d just discovered a new truth about you, about both of you. "Absolutely beautiful."

You tried to catch your breath, your heart still racing, your skin tingling with the aftershocks of your climax. You could feel a flush spreading across your cheeks, a lazy smile tugging at your lips as you reached down, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him up to meet your lips in a deep, grateful kiss.

And in that moment, with the sunlight spilling over the bed, with his mouth still tasting of you, you felt an overwhelming sense of completeness, of being entirely, perfectly alive.

This was the truest, the rawest of your husband. This is the side of Nanami Kento that was reserved only for you—a side that didn’t know the meaning of restraint, that didn’t care for the rigid lines of routine. Today, he allowed himself to be utterly devoted to the simple, intoxicating pleasure of you. He was going to enjoy you, worship you, love you; even if it was just for one day.

Nanami Kento hovered over you, your warmth still shining against his lips. He huffed a breath, watching you as you recovered. Your hair was tousled against the pillow, your breathing slow and even, and he felt a rare sense of peace wash over him. He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his touch feather-light so as not to wake you just yet. He wanted this — this quiet, stolen moment — for just a little while longer.

When your eyes met his, shining in golden sunlight, a small sleepy smile spread across your lips, and Kento felt his chest tighten with affection. He licked his lips, drowning in the traces of you against his tongue.

“Good morning, my love.” you whispered, your voice still laced with sleep. “You’re too….. ravenous today.”

“Good morning, darling.” he replied, his voice a low rumble. He didn’t move, just continued to look at you with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. “You just looked so good, you know? I couldn’t help myself.”

You felt your face turn even more flustered. “You flatter me too much.”

He smiled at you. “I said nothing that was untrue. Especially not about my beloved wife.” His fingers trace against the loose echoes of your tousled hair. “I have the day off today.” he added, as if it were a secret he was letting you in on. “I’m all yours, my darling.”

You blinked, surprised, then your smile grew wider. “Really? No exercising curses or dealing with Satoru’s antics?”

“None. None at all.” he confirmed. “And I intend to do absolutely nothing. ‘ust wanna be with you today, hm?”

You laughed softly, a sound he always found soothing. “Nothing, huh? That’s new for you.”

“Don’t get used to it, my darling.” he warned, but there was a rare softness in his tone, a hint of amusement that only you could bring out. He slid closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. “But today… I just want to stay here with you. No obligations. No responsibilities. Just us.”

You snuggled into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. “I can’t think of a better way to spend the day.”

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that you didn’t see often enough. “Neither can I.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked at Kento, your lips curling into a lazy smile that made his breath hitch. Your eyes were half-lidded, still heavy with sleep, but there was a mischievous glint in them that sent a rush of heat straight through him.

You moved slowly, deliberately, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of his pajama pants. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the gentle, teasing pressure of your fingers tracing the outline of him through the fabric, feeling the stiffness grow beneath your touch.

“Kento…” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with intent. You could feel his body tense beneath your hand, his eyes darkening with a mix of surprise and desire as he watched you. Slowly, you began to rub him, your fingers moving with a deliberate slowness, enjoying the way his breath became uneven, a low groan slipping from his lips.

He muttered your name, his voice strained, barely able to contain the sound of his pleasure. “D-darling…”

You grinned wider, a playful expression that only heightened his longing. You slipped your hand beneath the hem of his pajamas, fingers brushing against his heated skin, and his body responded instantly, hips lifting slightly as if seeking more of your touch.

“I want it, my love.” you murmured, your voice laced with a seductive sweetness that made his heart race.

Kento’s breath came in ragged bursts now, his composure crumbling with every stroke of your hand. He watched you, utterly captivated, as you gripped him more firmly, palming his growing erection, feeling the way it throbbed under your fingers. You took your time with Kento, savoring the feel of him, the way his body seemed to tremble with anticipation.

“Please, my love…” you whispered, leaning closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “I wanna make you feel good too… Please? Let me do it, my love.”

Kento's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip with a tenderness that seemed almost at odds with the raw hunger in his gaze. "

Y-yes, darling.” he managed, his voice husky, barely more than a breath. "God, yes…"

Your hand moved with more confidence now, your touch firmer, more assured, as you began to stroke him with purpose. The sounds he made were intoxicating, each moan and gasp made it clear how much your husband wanted you, how much he needed this—needed you to make love to him like this.

He was losing himself to you, the sensations overwhelming, his control slipping with every passing second. His hands gripped the sheets, his head falling back against the pillow as he let out a shuddering breath, surrendering to the waves of pleasure building within him. And you, watching him, feeling the power in this moment, couldn’t help but smile, knowing that today was just for the two of you.

You felt a surge of satisfaction as Kento's breath drastically quickened, his chest rising and falling with each labored inhale. The way his body reacted to your touch was a language all its own—one of trust, of need, of a desire so deep it seemed to consume the very air around you.

His hand on your cheek trembled slightly, his thumb brushing against your lips as if seeking some form of grounding, but even that small movement betrayed his growing desperation. He likes intimacy, your husband. He loves keeping you close. Touching you. You were as enthralled with the warmth of affection that was born from the touch of someone you loved.

Slowly, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his palm, and then another to the inside of his wrist. Your lips trailed gentle, teasing kisses up his arm as your hand continued its steady rhythm, squeezing and stroking him with a tenderness that left him breathless. Each kiss felt like a promise, a whispered assurance that you were there with him, fully, completely, in this moment.

“Kento, my love…..” you breathed against his skin, your voice barely a whisper. “You feel so good in my hands…”

He groaned at your words, his head turning to the side, eyes squeezing shut as if trying to hold on to his composure, but he was losing that battle with every touch, every caress. "I—" he began, his voice hoarse. "I don't… know how much longer I can…"

His sentence dissolved into another low moan as your thumb swept over the tip of his length, spreading the bead of moisture that had formed there, your fingers wrapping around him tighter.

You could see the conflict in his eyes when he opened them again, a mix of desire and restraint, but that restraint was crumbling, fraying at the edges as you continued to stroke him, your movements steady, determined. He bit his lip, trying to hold back, trying to keep some semblance of control, but the way his hips bucked against your hand betrayed him.

“Let go, Kento.” you whispered, your lips now hovering just above his. “Let me see you fall apart for me… Let me feel you, my love.”

His breath hitched, a shiver running down his spine at your words. He let out a shuddering sigh, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer as if he needed to anchor himself to you.

“I… I can’t… hold back, darling.” he muttered, his voice rough, filled with a kind of raw honesty that made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and pressed your lips against his, capturing his mouth in a slow, heated kiss. Your hand continued its work, stroking him with purpose, with a rhythm that matched the racing of his heart. You felt him tense beneath you, his entire body coiling like a spring, ready to snap.

Then, with a deep, guttural groan, he finally let go. His body shuddered, a wave of pleasure crashing over him as he came, hot and thick, into your hand. His grip tightened in your hair, his kiss turning desperate, needy, as he rode out the intense waves of his release. 

You felt his body relax under your touch, his breathing gradually slowing, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, a faint, lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a mix of contentment and disbelief in his gaze.

"You… you always know how to make me feel alive, darling." he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a warmth that made your heart swell. 

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him against you. “I love you, Kento. My dearest love.” you whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “And I love seeing you like this, with me.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was rare, precious. "And I love you." he replied, pulling you closer, wrapping his arms around you. "More than I could ever say."

For hours after your little rendezvous, the two of you stayed tangled in each other’s arms, sharing quiet conversations, soft kisses, and long silences filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing. Nanami Kento held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back, his gaze never leaving your face for long.

Eventually, you coaxed him out of bed with the promise of a simple breakfast. Kento resisted at first, his limbs still heavy with the sweet exhaustion of your shared intimacy, but the sound of your voice, so light and teasing, and the allure of spending a quiet morning together drew him from the warm confines of the sheets.

He followed you into the kitchen, still half-dressed, the waistband of his pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his hair more tousled than usual, the remnants of sleep and desire still lingering in his eyes.

He leaned against the doorway, watching you move with a quiet grace, your silhouette bathed in the soft morning light. You hummed a familiar tune under your breath, your hands deftly preparing the coffee with a practiced ease.

The scent of freshly ground beans filled the air, mingling with the warm rays of sunlight streaming through the window, and Kento found himself mesmerized by the sight of you. It was a simple, domestic scene, yet there was something about it that felt incredibly intimate, as if he was seeing a side of you reserved only for these quiet, stolen moments.

His heart swelled with a feeling he couldn’t quite name, a gentle ache in his chest that felt like contentment, like peace, but also something deeper, something he wasn’t used to allowing himself to feel.

His life had always been one of discipline, of carefully constructed routines meant to keep him grounded, focused. But watching you now, he realized how much he craved this—these mornings with you, the ease of your presence, the way you moved with such purpose yet without hurry.

He pushed himself off the doorway and crossed the room, coming up behind you. He slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You always look so beautiful," he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep, his breath warm against your ear.

You laughed softly, leaning back into his embrace, your hands stilling for a moment as you savored the feel of him so close, so tender. "Kento, you're still half asleep," you teased, but your voice was gentle, affectionate.

He hummed in agreement, his lips brushing against your temple. "Maybe," he admitted, "but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true."

You smiled, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. You turned slightly in his arms, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The world outside, with all its demands and expectations, seemed so distant, so unimportant. Here, in this small, sunlit kitchen, it was just the two of you, wrapped in a quiet bubble of contentment.

"You know, my love...." you said softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead, "I love seeing you like this, too. Relaxed. Happy."

He closed his eyes for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. "I never thought I could have this, you know?" he confessed, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "I never thought I could find this kind of peace… with someone."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the stubble on his jaw. "You deserve it, Kento. You deserve every bit of happiness."

He sighed, a deep, contented sound, and kissed you softly, a lingering kiss that spoke of gratitude, of affection, of a love that was growing, deepening with every moment you spent together. When he finally pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes, a lightness in his expression that you rarely saw but cherished whenever it appeared.

“Now, about that breakfast,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small smile. “What can I do to help?”

You grinned, handing him a spoon and pointing toward the eggs on the counter. “Start with those, chef. We’re in this together.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and unguarded, and with a playful roll of his eyes, he moved to the stove, taking his place beside you. As he cracked the eggs into the pan, his movements careful yet practiced, he glanced over at you, and that unnamed feeling in his chest blossomed into something undeniably clear—he was falling for you, deeper than he ever thought he could, in the simplest and most unexpected ways.

Kento watched you with endeared eyes for a moment longer, then finally allowed himself to relax, leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh. For the first time in a long time, Nanami Kento felt like he could truly breathe. And as he sipped his coffee, he decided that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this kind of day off — as long as it was with you.

Kento listened to you as you spoke about expanding the gardens, your voice animated with excitement as you described your vision. You wanted to add a new section for herbs and perhaps a small patch for wildflowers to attract bees and butterflies. The way your eyes lit up with each idea, each possibility, brought a soft smile to his face. He found it soothing, the way you talked about something so simple and yet so full of life.

"I’ve been thinking, my love." you continued in your sweet voice. "We could plant some lavender along the path leading up to the porch. The scent would be wonderful in the evenings. And maybe a few rose bushes along the fence — I’ve always loved roses."

Kento took another sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving your face. "Lavender, hm?" he mused, his voice thoughtful. "That would be nice. The smell is calming. And roses… they would suit you."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the unexpected compliment catching you off guard. "Do you think so?" you asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, setting his coffee down. "Yes. Roses are resilient, elegant… and they add beauty to their surroundings. Much like you."

Your smile grew, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. "Kento, my love, you’re making me blush."

"Good." he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I like seeing you like this. Happy."

You reached out, covering his hand with yours on the table. "I’m happy when I’m with you, my love." you said softly, and he felt something in his chest loosen, a tension he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Always, my love.”

Kento glanced out the window, his gaze drifting to the backyard—a blank canvas of green that stretched out before him, the morning light casting soft shadows across the lawn. He remembered the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your plans, your hands gesturing excitedly as you described the flowerbeds you wanted to plant, the small herbs you would grow, and the cozy corner where you’d place a bench for reading.

The idea had seemed whimsical to him at first—another project, another commitment in a life already filled with so many—but now, as he stood there, imagining it, he felt a strange warmth blooming in his chest. Nanami Kento thinks that he could almost taste the color, the texture. Everything.

He could almost see it: the vibrant hues of lavender and roses mingling in the sunlight, their colors bright against the backdrop of deep green leaves. The delicate petals swayed gently in a soft breeze, the air filled with their fragrant scent.

He could picture the lavender—its soft purple flowers nodding gracefully in the wind, releasing that soothing, calming fragrance he knew you loved. The roses, rich and full, would add bursts of color—reds, pinks, yellows—each bloom a testament to life, to beauty, to growth.

The thought of it was unexpectedly comforting. He imagined himself coming home after a long day, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the world, only to be greeted by the sight of your garden, a small oasis of tranquility and life. The idea of it, of having a place that was alive, that was growing—just like the two of you—appealed to him more than he’d expected.

He pictured you there, kneeling in the dirt, your hands stained with soil, a soft smile on your face as you carefully tended to the plants. He imagined the way you’d look up at him, a smudge of dirt on your cheek, your eyes bright with joy and purpose.

The image made his heart swell with a tenderness that surprised him. He saw himself joining you, hands working beside yours, digging into the earth, feeling the cool, damp soil under his fingers, the two of you creating something beautiful together.

And it wasn’t just the visual that drew him in; it was the sound—the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, the soft hum of bees flitting from flower to flower, the occasional chirp of a bird perched nearby. He could almost hear the faint trickle of a small fountain you’d mentioned wanting to install, its soothing babble mixing with the sounds of nature. It all seemed so… peaceful, so different from the noise and chaos of his daily life.

He hadn’t realized how much he craved that peace until now, standing there, imagining the garden you would build together. A place where time slowed down, where the worries and stresses of the outside world couldn’t reach him. A place that felt like home, in every sense of the word.

Kento’s hand absently brushed against the windowsill, his fingers tracing the worn wood as he allowed himself to linger in that vision a little longer. He could almost smell the herbs you talked about planting—basil, rosemary, thyme—their aromas mingling with the fresh air, bringing a sense of calm, of warmth, of life. He imagined plucking fresh sprigs for dinner, the scent of rosemary clinging to his fingers, the earthy, familiar smell of thyme infusing the kitchen as you cooked together.

And as he stood there, he realized that it wasn’t just the idea of the garden itself that appealed to him—it was what it represented. Growth, nurturing, care. It was a symbol of the life you were building together, the way you were slowly, carefully cultivating something beautiful out of the ordinary. 

Kento’s lips curved into a small, thoughtful smile. He turned to you, watching as you moved around the kitchen, your expression content, your presence filling the room with warmth. Yes, he thought, he could almost see it—the garden, the life, the future you were both creating, one moment at a time.

And for once, the future didn’t feel daunting to him; it felt… a little bit hopeful. He felt a quiet sense of purpose settle within him, a sense that this was exactly where he was meant to be, with you, dreaming of lavender and roses.

"I could help you with it, darling." he offered, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "On weekends or when I have time. I know you like gardening, but some of the work might be too much for one person."

You beamed at him, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. "I’d love that, my love." you replied. "It would be fun, wouldn’t it? Working on it together?"

"Fun…." Nanami repeated, considering the word. "Yes… I suppose it would be. Life is fun with you."

You blinked at his words. And then you burst into warm giggles, your cheeks rosy red. He realized then that this was what he’d been missing — not just a break from work, but a sense of purpose beyond his duties as a sorcerer. A chance to build something with you, to create a space where you both could feel at peace. The idea of nurturing something, watching it grow, appealed to him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

"And, oh! My love, maybe…." you added with a playful grin. "Maybe we can add a bench under the oak tree, so you have a spot to read while I fuss over the flowers."

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. "A bench sounds good, my darling." he agreed. "And I’d like to see you fuss over the flowers."

Your laughter filled the kitchen, light and joyful, and he found himself smiling, genuinely smiling, more than he had in weeks. As you continued to share your ideas over breakfast, Nanami Kento felt something shift within him — a gentle, comforting realization that these moments, these simple, quiet days spent with you, were what he truly needed.

He didn’t need excitement or adventure. He didn’t need a life filled with constant battles and endless challenges. He needed this: mornings filled with coffee and conversation, afternoons spent planning gardens, evenings under the stars. He needed you.

"Alright, alright…." he said finally, setting his mug down with a decisive nod. "Let's expand the garden. Lavender, roses, herbs… all of it."

Your face lit up with joy, and you leaned across the table to kiss him, your lips soft against his. "Thank you, my love." you whispered, your smile bright and warm. "I think it’s going to be beautiful."

He kissed you back, his hand cradling your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. "It already is." he replied softly, knowing that as long as you were there, it always would be.

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED BY THE END OF IT. After washing up together, enjoying a little more romance in each other’s arms in the bathroom — you finally gently persuaded Nanami to join you on the couch.

You draped a soft, cozy blanket over both of you, and he settled in beside you, his arm naturally finding its place around your shoulders. The morning light filtering through the curtains added a warm glow to the room, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly calm and serene.

You nestled into his side, feeling his steady heartbeat against you, and began to talk about something that had been on your mind lately. “You know, my love….” you started, your voice filled with excitement, “I’ve been thinking about my recent book and my agent said that there’s a possibility that it might be adapted into a television show.”

Nanami turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression curious but attentive. “A television show?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with a small grin on his lips. “That’s great, darling. Though, I have to say — isn’t this quite a leap from a book. How did that come about?”

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I was told to keep quiet for a while, but now that things are going on, it’s something I can spoil.”

He grinned deeper. “Oh? You’re willing to let someone hear a very, very important secret?”

“Uh–uh. Don’t tell my agent though. She’ll kill me!”

“Alright, my darling. I promise.” He whispers against your tender skin. “Tell me.”

“So, I’ve been in touch with a producer who’s interested in the story. They think it has potential and want to explore it further. It’s still in the early stages, but the idea of seeing my characters and world come to life on screen is so thrilling.”

“That’s incredible, my darling.” Nanami said, a genuine smile touching his lips. “You must be very excited.”

“I am, my love.” you admitted, leaning closer to him. “But I’m also a little nervous. It’s one thing to write a book and have people imagine it, seeing it visualized… Like you said, that’s a whole different thing. I’m worried about how it will turn out, if it will capture the essence of the story.”

Nanami’s hand gently rubbed your arm, his touch soothing. “I understand, my darling,” he said softly. “But remember, the essence of the story is in your writing. No matter how it’s adapted, that core will come through as long as it stays true to what you wrote. And from what I’ve read of your new work, I do believe it will be quite huge if it happens.”

Your smile widened at his reassurance. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” he replied with conviction. “And if it’s something you’re passionate about, I’m sure it will resonate with others too. You’ve always had a way with words, and that won’t change just because it’s on screen. You’re such a great writer, after all.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, comforted by his unwavering support. “Thank you, My love. It means a lot to hear that.”

He looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “I’m proud of you, you know. Not just for your book, but for taking this step. It’s a big deal, and you’re handling it amazingly. You’re just brilliant, my love.”

You snuggled closer, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Your cheeks turn brighter, as though a scarlet sunrise appeared before Kento. He smiles at how beautiful you look like this in front of him. But in truth, you always were. You always will be. 

“I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you, though. Your encouragement and belief in me have made a huge difference, my love.”

Nanami’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m always here for you. And I can’t wait to see where this journey takes you.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m glad to have you by my side, my love. Even with all the uncertainties, having you here makes everything feel more manageable.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll face whatever comes together always, my darling.” he said softly. “And I’m looking forward to seeing your blossoming in what you love to do, hm?”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. Wrapped in the blanket, with Nanami’s steady presence beside you, you felt a profound sense of peace. As you continued to discuss your book and the exciting possibilities ahead, you realized that this moment, this calm and cozy morning together, was just as significant as any big event.

For now, you were content to savor the simple joy of being with him, sharing your dreams and plans, and feeling grateful for the love and support that made everything seem just a little brighter.

After all, there was still that warm morning sun filtering through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. As though this is where the sun was. This was the center of the world. Just the two of you. The light seemed to weave through the sheer curtains, bathing everything in a warm, almost ethereal hue. It was the kind of light that made ordinary moments feel magical, turning the mundane into something beautifully serene.

As Nanami Kento leaned back into the cushions of the couch, he pulled you closer, and you felt the comforting weight of his arm around you. Your head naturally found its place against his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt warm and soft beneath your cheek. It felt almost like a dream — this rare, quiet intimacy with him, where the usual world of responsibilities and chaos seemed to dissolve into the background.

The stillness of the peaceful life, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the house and the distant chirping of birds outside, created a cocoon of peace around you both. Kento’s own steady breathing was rhythmic and soothing, like a comforting lullaby that made you feel utterly secure. His presence, so close and protective, wrapped you in a sense of calm that you seldom experienced.

In this tranquil moment, you could almost forget the outside world. The usual pressures and expectations faded away, leaving just the two of you and the simple pleasure of being together. The sun’s soft light created patterns on the walls and floors, dancing with the shadows in a way that made everything feel tender and intimate.

Nanami’s body radiates warmth, his heartbeat a steady and reassuring rhythm against you. His fingers lightly traced patterns on your arm, a gesture so gentle it felt like a silent promise of his unwavering support and affection. You could feel his heart beating steadily, a constant reminder that, in this moment, everything was right.

This rare, quiet intimacy with him was a sanctuary from the world outside. It was a space where time seemed to slow down, allowing you both to savor the closeness and the simple joy of each other’s company. Kento’s presence was and always will be your grounding force, anchoring you in this serene bubble where nothing else mattered but the connection you shared.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink deeper into the comfort of his embrace. The soft glow of the morning sun, the warmth of his body, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest created a sense of contentment that was both profound and delicate. It was a reminder that amidst the chaos of life, there were these precious moments of calm and connection that made everything else seem secondary.

In the quiet of the room, the warmth of your bodies began enveloping you both. And for a moment, you pray to any god out there. Because this life you’d built with Kento, it was everything. And all you had in you was this feeling of overwhelming gratitude. That you found each other. That you had each other. That you belong to each other for the rest of time. 

You like to think that one of these moments was worth living for. In these moments, so simple yet so significant, that you found true happiness. This is what your mother meant when she said that true love exists, that happiness was so simple and yet was boundless as the seas. Kento was your love, and he was your happiness. 

And you would be happy to be nothing but with him. You’d gladly stay in this bubble, this little planet of your own, this never–ending galaxy of love. The world outside could wait; for now, you were content to bask in the peaceful intimacy of the morning, savoring the rare and precious gift of being together.

You shifted slightly, feeling the soft, steady rise and fall of Nanami’s chest as you nestled closer. The warmth of his presence was soothing, and you took a deep breath, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. There was a brief pause, filled only with the soft sounds of the house and the gentle hum of the morning. Nanami’s arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you closer.

“Do you think, my darling,” he asked after a moment, his voice thoughtful, “that we’ll look back on this day and remember it as one of those rare, perfect moments?”

You nuzzled against him, feeling his warmth envelop you. “I hope so. It feels perfect to me right now.”

Kento’s smile grew, a look of contentment on his face. “Then it’s perfect. And it’s a memory I’ll cherish.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence once more, savoring the peaceful intimacy of the moment. With Nanami’s arm around you and the morning sun casting its gentle glow over the room, you felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that these shared moments were the true treasures of life.

"Are you sure you don’t have somewhere you’d rather be?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, still trying to process the calm of the moment. 

Nanami turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a gentle intensity. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be," he said firmly. "And no one else I’d rather be with."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the sincerity behind them so very Nanami — direct and without pretense. It wasn’t often that he voiced his emotions so openly, but today felt different. Today, it was as if he was allowing himself to be just a man, rather than a jujutsu sorcerer bound by duty. 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, his fingers drawing small circles on your arm. “Tell me, darling…” he murmured after a while. “What would you do on a day like this if you had no obligations?”

You smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. “Hmm, I’d probably spend it just like this… with you. Maybe we could go for a walk later or cook dinner together. Nothing extravagant, just… simple things.”

Nanami’s lips curved into the smallest smile. “Simple things, huh?” he echoed. “I like the sound of that.”

You felt a warm, comforting sense of happiness settle over you. “We could read a book, or just stay here and talk. We don’t get to do that often enough, I think. We’re just both busy most of the time.”

Nanami hummed in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. “Talking with you is easy, darling.” he confessed quietly. “Not a dull conversation with you. Everything’s just….extraordinary even in the ordinary.”

His words made your heart swell with affection. “I’m glad, my love.” you whispered, your fingers playing with the edge of his shirt. “You make everything feel like that too, you know? Even the quiet feels meaningful when I’m with you.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your skin. “Then let’s stay like this more often, hm?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Let’s stay here and let the world move around us for a change.”

You nodded, settling into the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, letting it lull you into a calm you rarely felt. For hours, you stayed wrapped up together, sharing thoughts, stories, and soft laughter that came naturally in the stillness of the day. 

Eventually, the light began to change, the afternoon sun casting longer shadows across the room. You felt Nanami shift slightly, his fingers still tracing patterns on your skin, a small smile on his lips. 

“Do you know what I’ve been thinking?” he asked, his tone contemplative. 

“What’s that?”

He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been thinking… Maybe I should take days like this more often. Days where I don’t think about anything but being with you. I think I’ve forgotten how important that is.”

Your heart swelled at his admission, and you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. “You deserve that, Kento. You deserve to rest, to enjoy life outside of work.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment. “And I think I’ve finally realized that, dearest darling.” he whispered. “You make me realize it. I’m grateful for you.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips, feeling the gentle press of his hand against your back as he deepened the kiss. It was slow, languid, like the day itself — a promise that you both had all the time in the world.

When you pulled back, you saw something in his eyes that made your breath catch — a deep, abiding love that went beyond words. He didn’t need to say anything else. He just held you a little tighter, as if anchoring himself to this moment, to you.

“Let’s make dinner together, my love.” you suggested softly, breaking the silence.

Nanami nodded, his expression softening. “I’d like that, darling.” he replied. “And after that… maybe we can sit on the porch and watch the stars come out.”

You grinned. “I’d like that, too.”

As the day turned into evening, you and Kento moved to the kitchen together, the transition from a tranquil morning to a lively afternoon marking a subtle change in the atmosphere.

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of cooking — the steady rhythm of chopping vegetables, the bubbling of boiling pasta, and the occasional sizzle from the stovetop. The air was rich with the aroma of garlic and herbs, mingling with the comforting scent of fresh pasta.

You laughed over small things: a particularly stubborn piece of garlic that wouldn’t mince properly, a splash of water that nearly escaped from the pot, and the playful banter that came naturally as you worked side by side.

Your Kento's laughter, light and genuine, was a sound you cherished. It was a rare and beautiful contrast to the usual seriousness of his days. Seeing him so relaxed, so free from the weight of his responsibilities, made your heart swell with happiness.

Amidst the perpetual chaos in your kitchen, Kento walked over to the record player that sat in the corner of the kitchen. With a practiced hand, he carefully selected a vinyl and set it spinning.

The entire facet of the room was soon filled with the smooth, nostalgic tones of Paul Anka’s “Put Your Head on My Shoulder.” You gasp, knowing what this means. Almsot immediately, the soft, romantic melody seemed to wrap around the room, adding a layer of intimacy to the evening.

As the first notes of the song drifted through the air, your husband glanced over at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He approached you, a playful smile on his lips. You couldn't help but shake your head bashfully as you smile back at him.

“I think this song calls for a dance, dearest darling.” he said, his voice gentle but insistent.

You looked at him, momentarily distracted from the task at hand. “A dance?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “While we’re cooking?”

Kento nodded, extending his hand toward you. “Why not? We can take a break. Besides, it’s a perfect song for it.”

With a laugh, you wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and allowed him to pull you gently away from the sink. The soft, inviting melody seemed to dissolve any lingering tension in the room, and you found yourself happily giving in to the spontaneous moment.

Your husband guided you to the center of the kitchen, the vinyl's music creating a romantic backdrop to the simple joy of dancing. He took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. You rested your head against his shoulder, your body swaying gently to the rhythm of the song. His other hand rested comfortably on your waist, guiding your movements with a gentle precision that spoke of both affection and ease.

You felt a rush of giggles bubble up as Nanami’s hand found your back, pulling you closer. The softness of his embrace, combined with the slow, tender rhythm of the song, made you feel like you were the only two people in the world. The kitchen, with its cluttered countertops and simmering pots, seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the simple joy of being in his arms.

Your Kento's laughter joined yours, a warm, melodic sound that perfectly matched the mood of the evening. He spun you around gently, his gaze never leaving yours, and you felt a sense of pure contentment. The day had transformed from a series of routine tasks into a memorable, heartwarming experience.

As the song continued, you both danced slowly, savoring the moment. The gentle sway, the closeness, and the music created a cocoon of happiness that enveloped you both. It was a reminder that even in the midst of everyday chores, there could be magic and joy — a simple dance, a shared smile, and the warmth of each other’s company.

When the song finally ended, Nanami held you close for a moment longer, his hands resting lightly on your back. He looked down at you with a smile that spoke of deep affection and satisfaction.

“That was nice, wasn't it?” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth.

“It was perfect, my love.” you replied, your heart full. “Thank you for making this evening special.”

Kento's smile widened, and he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Anytime, my darling.” he said. “It’s these little moments that make everything worthwhile.”

You both returned to the kitchen, the mood light and cheerful, ready to finish preparing dinner with renewed energy. The dance, though brief, had added a touch of magic to your day, a reminder that the simplest of moments could bring the greatest joy.

Later, as evening gently gave way to night, you found yourselves on the porch, wrapped in a soft, cozy blanket that covered you both from shoulders to toes. The air had cooled, carrying with it the faint scents of twilight and the promise of a peaceful night. The porch, usually a simple space, felt transformed into a haven of comfort and tranquility.

The sky was gradually darkening, and you could see the first stars beginning to appear, twinkling faintly against the deepening blue canvas. It was a stunning sight, the stars emerging one by one, like tiny, distant fires illuminating the vast expanse of the universe. The beauty of it was mesmerizing, and it added a sense of magic to the evening.

You leaned into your husband's own body. feeling his warmth and presence next to you. His arm was draped around your shoulders, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and tender. His hand clasped yours, fingers intertwined in a gentle embrace that spoke volumes without the need for words. The connection between you was palpable, a shared sense of contentment and peace.

As you both gazed up at the sky, the stars slowly becoming more prominent, a comfortable silence enveloped you. The occasional rustle of the wind through the trees, the distant chirping of crickets, and the soft hum of nighttime created a serene backdrop, enhancing the feeling of closeness and intimacy.

You turned your head slightly, catching Nanami’s profile illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light. His face was relaxed, his eyes reflecting the starlight, and there was a contented smile on his lips. It was in these quiet moments that you could see a side of him that was often hidden behind his usual composure — a side that was just as relaxed and at ease as you felt.

“It’s beautiful out here.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the evening. “It’s just so clear tonight.”

Nanami nodded, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “It is. I’ve always enjoyed moments like these. The simplicity of it, the quiet.”

You sighed contentedly, the comfort of the blanket, the warmth of his embrace, and the beauty of the night sky all coming together to create a perfect sense of peace. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?” you said, your voice filled with heartfelt emotion. “It feels like everything is just as it should be.”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. “I feel the same way, my darling.” he replied, his voice tender. “It’s everything.”

As you both continued to watch the stars, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. It was in these quiet, shared moments that you found a deep connection, a shared understanding that transcended words. The stars above seemed to mirror the feelings in your heart — a sense of wonder, love, and perfect contentment.

The world outside, with all its complexities and challenges, felt distant and irrelevant in the face of this serene, intimate evening. Here, on the porch with your beloved husband by your side, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the comfort of each other’s presence, everything seemed to align perfectly.

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, allowing you to savor the simplicity and beauty of the moment. With your beloved Kento’s hand in yours and the night sky stretching out above, you felt that everything was exactly as it was meant to be, and it was perfect. Nothing could ever get better than being with him. Nothing.

“Thank you, my darling.” he whispered suddenly, his voice barely more than a breath against the night.

“For what, my love?” you asked, tilting your head to look up at him.

“For reminding me that there’s more to life than just work, even if it’s just one day.” Kento replied, face tender with a smile. “For reminding me that… this is enough. You are enough.”

You leaned into him, your heart full. “You’re enough for me too, my love. My dearest beloved Kento.”

[dangermousie]

2023 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

Yes, we have a lot of December left, but I don't think anything else I want to check out will air before 2024 hits (it's cdrama so caveat is - you never know.)

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it's not on the list. This was a pretty good cdrama year, all in all.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

30 legend of twin flower - Not dignifying that drama with capital letters, as the only capital that should be associated with this is capital punishment - which is what watching this feels like.

29 Dominator of Martial Gods - sounds like a bdsm gay porn title. Would probably be better acted and written if it was.

28 Beauty of Resilience - you'd need a lot of said resilience to sit through this incoherent, barely acted mess. The thing that I remember the most other than my annoyance is all the jingly-jangly head gear on JJY. Perhaps they could have sold some of them and spent the money on a better script.

27 Divine Destiny - if you think you have too many brain cells and want to get rid of some, boy do I have a drama for you!

26 Wanru’s Journey - honestly it's probably tied with SEL - I mean it's worse but it has actors who are nowhere as well known and a fraction of SEL's budget. Still, this is a big fat nope. I will not say what I think of Aoi Rupeng's "acting" or I'd have to put money in the curse jar.

25 Snow Eagle Lord - Gulinazha's stone face, nonsense plot, terrible CGI. Take your pick as to why this is terrible.

24 Scent of Time - it was uneven but fun but then that ending was dumb enough to destroy the whole thing. Show me on the doll where common sense hurt you, makers!

23 Royal Rumors - Jeremy Tsui and Meng Ziyi are utterly wasted in this nothing trifle of a drama.

22 Legend of Anle - I had high expectations but alas. This is the drama version of color beige. There is nothing offensive about it but nothing good either. Mediocre actors are mediocre, good actors become mediocre, this is just a waste of our finite time on planet earth.

21 Romance on the Farm - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like this wholesome slice of farming family life, but it's tailored to trigger every one of my "nope" opinions.

20 Back from the Brink - if I were 12, it would be my favorite thing. I am not 12.

19 Journey of Chong Zi - objectively a terrible drama with plot holes the size of Mars and a leading lady whose face has apparently frozen when the wind changed. But I am a total sucker for the trope of upright shizun falling for his demonic disciple and going mental so here we are. Objectively, garbage, subjectively my precious!

18 Love you Seven Times - just call poor Ding Yuxi "Atlas," he carried this mess so hard.

17 Blooming Days - trashy dogblood harem fight fun throwback. It's not that great (and the fact that it was shredded doesn't help) but it's probably the last gasp of that genre for the foreseeable future, so I am grading on a curve.

16 The Starry Love - a fun fantasy where the secondary OTP stole the thunder but overall a really solid fantasy xianxia romance.

15 The Longest Promise - it could have been better - the secondaries were unbearable and there was too much of them and what they did with Alen Fang's character still gives me rage fits, but the main couple was impeccable and lovely and I rooted so hard for them.

14 Chang Feng Du/Destined - visually gorgeous, solidly acted, impeccable first half. Bland as hell second half. Win some, lose some.

13 Circle of Love - this drama is a nonsense trash heap on fire. After a typhoon hit it. It was also the most entertaining, addicting drama on this whole list.

12 Hidden Love - the sole modern on this list, this story has barely any plot but it made me care about the young, decent lovers so hard.

11 Choice Husband - starts out wacky, continues with angst and blood and happy ending. I loved it, but I've always had a soft spot for melo and schemers turning devoted.

10 Pledge of Allegiance - bromance, super solid acting, visuals, a really dark take on officials and the world. Insanely underrated.

9 Provoke - a truly fun Republican revenge and love tale, showing that short format can be wonderful.

8 Gone with the Rain - some of the secondary characters are rage-inducing (hi there, cardboard boy!) but the scheming, ruthless, vulgar FL is amazing and her slowburn with her age gap general who is delighted by her out-there-ness is great!

7 Wonderland of Love - Fei Wo Si Cun goes wholesome and the result is surprisingly entertaining. Battle couple, glorious visuals, a fast paced plot. It's the first Xu Kai drama I enjoyed in years (and he plays a rare cdrama ML it would be pretty neat to pair up with in rl.)

6 My Journey to You - that ending is infuriating (and I am OK with open endings if done properly) but what a visual feast, probably the most gloriously shot drama on this list, and that's a tough competition. Also it packs a hell of a lot of couples and familial and adversarial relationships into its slim running time; assassin lady won over by a gentle man is my favorite trope and so this is extra great.

5. Till the End of the Moon - the ending is a rage-inducing disaster for me, but this drama was the most incredibly emotionally intense, visually eye popping experience. It was deeply flawed but when it was amazing, it was like nothing else in its visuals, its characters and its narratives. It took insane risks; some paid off and some did not, but it was glorious.

4. Story of Kunning Palace - I don't often care for reverse harem stories but this one was such fun - the main OTP was glorious (strong FL, unhinged ML) but honestly everything about this was just so excellently done.

3. The Ingenious One - the most adult drama on this list. Smart protagonists, intelligent plot, emotions that felt true, this is a revenge and a mystery and found family and goes into so many directions you do not expect (Su Mengyu's PTSD after his first kill - that is something you never see in dramas, definitely not prolonged and profound - not like this.) If I was to say which drama was objectively the best on this list, as opposed to favorite, it would be this.

1 (tie) Lost You Forever 1 - this is an exquisite emotional jewel of a story about damaged people moving forward, with damage always present - their past informs their present and always will. The narrative about Xiao Yao and three very different men in her life makes me think that it's an equivalent of a neutron bomb going off right before the main narrative starts and now we are watching the survivors wander in the wreckage. This is very high fantasy setting but it's one of the most emotionally human narratives out there.

1 A Journey to Love - everything I ever wanted - assassins, ride or die adult OTP with genuine believable conflicts, great and complex secondaries, beautiful fights. Oh, and yeah Liu Shi Shi domming the hell out of every man in a ten mile radius, as she should.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It's a tie between Lost You Forever Part 1 and A Journey to Love. LYF1 is a bona fide art piece but it's only part 1 and who knows if part 2 will be any good (seeing the huge ep number cut, I have my doubts) and so it's incomplete. AJTL is an old school wuxia romance with incredibly competent, adult people in love and great cast of secondaries. I can't pick.

WORST DRAMA

romance of twin flower - this is a drama that should not exist. If I could hex everyone involved with it, I would. It's a terrible, stupid, shrill, badly acted drama to start with, but where it really is catapulted into stratosphere of horror is that is took my very favorite non-danmei web novel of all time, a smart and complicated tale with incredible protagonists and turned it into that barftastic abomination. Peng Xiao Ran kept making horrible drama after horrible drama but I kept giving her a chance because of Goodbye My Princess but after this disaster, I've had to accept GMP was a fluke and she is on my "if she's in it, I am out” list. Ding Yuxi is not that far yet (his performance in Seven Lifetimes was the one thing carrying that mess afloat) but he's on freaking thin ice. Anyway, I like to pretend this drama does not exist.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

It was hard because there were so many I loved this year - Deng Wei's traumatized, gentle Seventeen from LYF1 (if someone told me I'd swoon and weep for a character played by Deng Wei, I'd have told them to examine their brains asap), Liu Yuning's incredibly capable, deadly, contained Ning Yuanzhou from AJTL, Zhang Linghe's unhinged Xie Wei from SoKP, Chen Xiao's schemer with a heart Yun Xiang from TIO.

But ultimately, it couldn't be anyone else but Luo Yunxi as Tantai Jin/Demon God/Ming Ye/Cang Jiumin in Till the End of the Moon. He was everything - a demon, a saint, a martyr, a monster, a tormented abuse victim, a savior, joyful, unhinged, smart, pitiable. It was the cdrama performance of the year for me. Luo Yunxi even in a mediocre role is impressive but in a complex (series of) role(s) designed for his strengths, he is a force of nature.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Yao (Lost You Forever Part 1). Once again, there were runner ups - Bai Lu's smart a little evil FL in Kunning, the gloriously unhinged assassin domme Liu Shi Shi in AJTL, Esther Yu's assassin longing for a different life in MJTY etc etc etc. But Xiao Yao's damaged, difficult, very self-aware woman stole my heart. I was skeptical going in because I haven't enjoyed a Yang Zi performance in a long time, but she was the wounded beating soul of this incredible drama.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Where do we start? How about all of Seventeen's (LYF1) monster family? His brother, who tortured him for years physically and emotionally to such a degree his body is a horror map and his personality is permanently altered because "mommy liked you better." Psycho mother who created a situation where the kids were going to turn on each other and "let's get my grandson raped" grandma. Where is a well-placed meteorite when you need one.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xiao Yao/Seventeen, LYF1. Yes, a ship of characters played by Yang Zi and Deng Wei is my favorite. Leave me alone, I am on my tenth helping of crow already. They are both incredibly damaged, barely functioning survivors who find what they need in the other - he finds a savior and someone who sees him as a man and rebuilds himself around her and she finds someone who will always put her first and only, and subsume himself in her. Is it healthy? No. Does it make sense for them and is it making them slowly functional? Yes.

Runner up: Ren Ruyi/Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL - two adults, so competent, so chemistry full. She has so much damage and so little normalcy but is so strong and he is oddly gentle (in between murders) and incredibly self-reflective. They are each other's mirrors and I love them.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Su Mingyu/Ke Menglan, The Ingenious One - the idealistic merchant who wants to join jianghu until he sees its horrors firsthand and a slave entertainer who wants security but decides she wants him more. They are gorgeous and glorious and wholesome and I adore them.

Runner up: Liu Gong Quan/Ming Zhu, The Ingenious One - that drama was a shippy gift, especially impressive considering it wasn't even romance-centric. He's the officer who has to bring down her treasonous father but loves her. Delicious.

Another runner up is Chao Feng/Qian Kui, the angelic good girl and the scheming bad boy in The Starry Love. They stole the drama from the main OTP for me.

NOTP

Scent of Time endgame. What the hell was even that. It made NO sense.

FAVORITE SCENE

So many good scenes this year - Tantai Jin taking apart Li Susu in prison in TTEOTM, the OTP fighting in perfect sync and insane rhythm in the gorge battle in AJTL, Chen Ruoxuan's character stopping the execution in Pledge, Yan Lin's coming of age in Kunning, the poison/antidote "gamble" in MJTY, Cang Xuan detoxing in LYF1. But I think ultimately, me being who I am, my favorite scene is Xiao Yao kissing Seventeen's damaged, scarred knee to show he is in no way inferior for her. AAAAA!

In terms of pure jaw dropping visuals tho nothing will ever beat Ming Ye’s battle against the Devil God in TTEOTM.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL. He's sexy as hell (that height, that way he moves in battle) but he's also so incredibly competent, so adult, so self-reflective and so attracted to a woman for her strength. He also gets whumped on the reg. Anyway, my hormones are ready.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Gong Yuanzhi (My Journey to You) - I loved the unhinged, brocon poison boy. He was everything. Also Yan Lin (Kunning) - talk about sunshine; I totally got why all these people felt they needed to save him.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

My Journey to You - what the HELL was that ending?

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

legend of twin flower - that is, stab it with scissors like it stabbed the novel until it's dead.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Till the End of the Moon - they clearly cut stuff to fit into the new regs about runtime and it made the last 1/5 rather abrupt. Gimme!

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

The emperor cannot be irredeemable. WTF, China, you are a communist country!

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

This is the year of a ML who yearns to be dommed by his FL. Long may it continue.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

The Legend of Anle - the novel had a great plot, the cast were all actors I either enjoy a lot or somewhat and we got - whatever that soggy piece of wonderbread toast was.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

LYF1 - I only checked out to mock because nobody could explain the story to me and nobody in the cast did anything I like either ever or in years. And then I fell utterly and completely in love and had to eat so much delicious crow.

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

Ancient Love Song is the only one on that list. It looks really good, I just need to brace myself.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

The Imperial Doctoress - best slowburn and pining and glorious character development and adult leads.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Anticipating any nonaired cdrama is a mug's game but if they air, I will definitely check out all the Fox Matchmaker dramas, LYF2, JoL2 and The Last Immortal. If Prisoner of Beauty ever is allowed out of the vault (dubious), it goes on the list too.

[cherrimilk]

✧ cruel summer | south park

‘my sister is off limits, you fucking horny assholes’

⤷ in which stan marsh’s twin sister is back in south park after five years. and with the gang from fourth grade all back together again with y/n marsh’s return, they prepare for what they hope to be the ‘best summer ever’. but with childhood crushes resurfacing and the end of their childhood quickly approaching with the start of their senior year soon, the summer they hoped for may go far differently then what they wanted.

pairings ✧ kenny mccormick x fem! reader, kyle broflovski x fem! reader (two endings!)

genre ✧ coming of age, drama, love triangle romance, slice of life kinda?? crack, half smau, half written

warnings ✧ underage drinking and drug use, south park teenagers being south park teenagers, angst (but i’m a sucker for fluff so expect way more of that)

chapters ✧

⤷ one

character profiles ✧

⤷ twitter

tag list ✧

⤷ open !

[lifeafterdeath-if]

Life After Death is a Slice of Death Romantic Drama that takes place within the afterlife. It’s rated 18+ for depictions of violence, sexual themes, alcohol use, explicit language, and, of course, death.

You’re dead.

It’s still something that you have to get used to. That you were happily, or at least you told yourself anyway, living your life within the world of the living only to end up in the world of the dead by nightfall— Elysium isn’t exactly what you were expecting, the bustling city being an eclectic mix of various points in history, but you’re certain you could be in worse places.

Making a new “life” within the walls of the ever-growing city seems an almost impossible task.

That is until a kind stranger, garbed in Victorian-Era clothing, offers you a place to stay at the Silver Towers; an apartment complex that has all walks of life seemingly crammed into its well-structured walls.

Will you be able to find your place among the new ensemble of people? Will you be able to find a connection with someone that you had never been able to create in life?

Only time will tell as your afterlife commences.

Customizable MC: Name, appearance, gender (female, male, and non-binary), sexuality, smattering facets of your life before death, and more!

Detail how your MC feels about their death and the world that they’ve left behind? Happy, sad, angry?

Discover all that Elysium, and its many Districts, have to offer as you meet more and more people.

Engage in a romance with 1 of 6 romantic options— from the kindly stranger to an ancient warrior. Each one gives you an insight into a world that seems so far from your own.

Forge friendships that will last through time.

Follow your MCs journey as they discover what their Life After Death will truly entail.

Edward/Elizabeth Clarke: A soft-spoken individual, with a heart of gold, and a penchant to help those in need. They also happen to be the very individual that offers you a place to stay within the Silver Towers. [PROFILE]

Kaspian/Kassandra Drakos: Hot-blooded and slightly obtuse, Kas is an individual from Ancient Greece; a Spartan Warrior that still has some of their old teachings ingrained in their very being, even after all these years. [PROFILE]

Jace/Jade Reed: Your new roommate who, fortunately for you, seems to have come from the same time as you. With a sunny smile and excitable disposition, they’re clearly a person that anyone could go to if they needed a shoulder to cry on. Only time will tell if they have one as well. [PROFILE]

Yvan/Yvonne DeLuca: The owner of the most influential club within all of Elysium— Afterlife. A rather on-the-nose name, of course, but that doesn’t stop the lines from forming throughout the night. With ambition running through their veins, and a silver tongue, nothing has ever made them slow down. [PROFILE]

Gabriel/Gabriella Caelius: An Angel sent from Heaven to watch over Elysium— a post that seems to have been subjected to for quite some time if their total apathy towards the city at large is anything to go by. It’s clear they want nothing more than to leave, but aren’t able to. [PROFILE]

Celian/Céline Keres: The Mayor of Elysium, maintaining order within a place that is simply a waiting room for most of the inhabitants within, who has a reputation for being cold; not wanting anything to mess with the city they love so much. Of course, another moniker is commonly attached alongside their name— The Grim Reaper. [PROFILE]

DEMO TBA

[shougojo]

what do your moots remind you of?

tysm for turning this in nonnie, i was really exited to try this <3 & the fact i thought i had NO MOOTS when i literally have like 33 💀

@wvnrqs — ribbons & bows, old newspapers, pretty swans, tulips, bubbles during a summer day, vintage books

@ode2rin — cats, plushies, desserts, pillow sheets, clouds during a sunset, slice of life vlogs

@yuzurins — chirping birds in pretty meadows, bubble tea, spring mornings, green tea, flowers, plants

@okkalo — golden coins, rainbows, duckies, cardigans, soft breeze at night, lakes, cherries

@noomon — the sun, diaries, simple yet beautiful things, love letters, projectors, mini fireworks

@yoisami — serenity, raindrops falling down a window, youth, modeling posters, strawberries, bunnies

@mikareo — twinkling stars, lattes, romance k dramas, museum of arts, recording studios, eclipse

@rinzsu — instagram posts, cookies, snowman, masquerade balls, photo albums, the beach

@hanrinz — stars, k-pop concerts, snowflakes, headphones, mini skirts, candles on a rainy day

@rosequarzo — japanese folktale, lucky money, headphones, fantasize by ariana grande, toast, waking up at 2am for a snack

@adoregojo — modern universities, polaroids, black & white manga, hairclips, milk tea, bonnets

@riekiss — winter wonderland, snow angels, jewelry, dolphins bumping noses, mini skirts, slowly plucking petals off a flower

@popponn — frogs ofc, matcha, perfectly healthy & straight grass, keroppi, bootcut jeans, chanel soap

@rewh0re — autumn leaves, wooden instruments, music notes, greek & rome mythology, poetry, sacred monuments

@y2kuromi — sand castles, colorful ice cream flavors, perfect pair by beabadoobee, staying up to talk with friends until 1am, pretty seashells, butterflies

@pokkomi — glitter & sparkles, staring at clouds, fantasy genre, cargos, hello kitty, angels

@yunymphs — models, laufey, coquette aesthetic, anything gucci, attractive girls, money

@520cafe — sparrows, cats chasing after yarn strings, thirsty by aespa, picture frames, rice with soy sauce, playlists

@etoiile — lipstick, fashion, staring at the starry night sky, french cookies, milk, daisies

@moonswolfie — coffee, studying with a candlelight during a rainy day, scarves, autumn breeze, biscuits, puppies

@kyoghurts — saturn, friendly aliens, lipstick stains on a white shirt, peach eyes by wave to earth, carp streamers, chalk

@kxttqi — lilies, sunrise & sunsets, lion cubs, melting candles, strawberries, pretty instagram posts

@kaiser1ns — book shelves, j-pop, cheesecake, birthday streamers, lucky money, tigers

@rninies — aventurine, unforgiven by le sserefim, pochacco, mangoes, flip phones, figurine boxes

@iluvies — kaomoji, koi ponds, expensive restaurants, red velvet cake, pottery, bunnies that have their nose scrunched up

@lovedazai — sweet bananas, lily of the valley, bouquet of roses, the smell when you walk into a bakery, prom nights, fairytales

@scopuo — jjk theme song, video games, dvds, tote bags, japanese apartments, thrift stores

@culturity — watching edits at 3am, stargirl, cleared remix by lilithzplug, nokia phone, laces, ramen

@myuroll — my melody, rubber duckies, alice from wonderland, koi fishes, cake rolls, the feeling when when someone gives you a compliment

@noirflms — flower petals, cherry blossoms, coquette clothing, hoodies, pinterest whispers, apocalypse by cigs after sex

@wishmemel — wish me mell, chocolate covered strawberries, the moon, pretty nails, new york at night, mcdonald’s chicken nuggets

@saelique — ocean waves, san-x, doves, kindergarteners (bc ur cute & fun ^^), friends to lovers trope, headphones, staying in bed for 5 more minutes b4 school

@yeritos — pudding, iced coffee, pearl necklaces, mesmerizing color palettes, skipping rocks, mary jane shoes, lamp

[astaroth1357]

Showing the OM Cast Trashy Reality TV Shows

We all have our weaknesses. Mine is called "Watching People Who Watch Reality Shows Talk About Reality Shows I'll Never Actually Watch."

Contents: Well I mean. Reality TV if that spooks you.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

You cannot convince me this isn't a guilty pleasure of his. I can absolutely see him pulling on some sweatpants and watching Love Island with MC on lazy day.

Sometimes, when your life is stressful, you just want to sit down and watch the DUMBEST thing possible. Pure junk food for the gray matter, you know? Can't get enough of the trashy romance shows in particular.

He gets pretty invested, even if he denies it. He'll usually pick out a favorite person or favorite couple and gets PISSED if anything happens to them. Everyone else, he couldn’t care less about.

If he misses a week, he'll get a text from MC asking if his favorite person/couple is still doing okay and nothing more. If something big happened though, he'll secretly clear his schedule so he has time to watch it with them as soon as possible.

Very "husband who says he doesn't care but the second you mention the name of a person he doesn't like, he'll go on a 20 minute tirade" sorta vibe.

Mammon

A very enthusiastic enjoyer of these kinds of shows. He loves the drama!

Definitely has one of the long running-types (like Vanderpump Rules) like a comfort show, though he mostly sticks to Demon RTV. MC isn't going to have a CLUE what 2nd Circle Beats or Devildom Dynasty is all about...

Mammon strikes me as someone who either has been on or auditioned for a reality show in the past. Just... look at him. Tell me he hasn't!

His modeling agent probably told him to so he could get better shoots... But I'll guess he was pretty popular on whatever he showed up on. Fan favorite for sure!

Would definitely show MC some of his favorite shows if they're into that short of thing. Demon RTV is.... edgier (the violence gets pretty heated) but the causes are all the same. They should be in for a good time!

Leviathan

Reality TV is for normies!! Why would he want to watch that???

The very thought of watching attractive people go on and on about their love lives makes him physically ill... Like he doesn't get enough of that stuff from Asmo and Mammon already!!

If MC is going to try and get him to watch ANY of them, it has to be a show that's almost guaranteed to be a mess from the outset like Love After Lockup or MILF Manor (which is a crime against humanity, btw. Sigmund Freud haunts us all.)

Make him sit through a second of Too Hot to Handle or F-Boy Island and he may straight up dump them. Or melt into a smoldering pile of envious goo.

If easy-watching is what they want, why can't they watch something else? Like a cuddly Slice-of-Life or some dumb card game anime?? There's even sports anime FAR more worth their investment with a billion times the substance!!

Not a reality TV fan. Keep it away from him. He'll whine, mope, or go ballistic if he has to see it.

Satan

Approaches human reality shows kind of like he's watching a nature documentary... but still laughs at the stupid bits.

Watching a trashy reality show with Satan can be pretty entertaining because he'll spend the whole time trying to grasp "human culture" from all the chaos. Or try to deconstruct why anyone would want to what these shows AS one is playing.

What's even funnier is when he makes comparisons between how things happen in the show and how they would play out in Devildom instead. Like, if a succubus catches their SO cheating, they'll either add the new partner into the relationship or behead them both. Depends on the day.

Particularly fond of one's that follow around bombastic families because then he also gets to pick apart human family dynamics in the process.

MC has to constantly remind him that a lot of it is staged and not EVERYTHING he sees to true to human life.... but it is true to human entertainment.

Asmodeus

Keeps up with both human AND demon reality shows and has even hosted a couple in the past!

He LIVES for the tea! He BREATHES in the drama! Man can't get enough!! He'll even skim through the tabloids and keeps up with any feuds like he's following genuine war updates.

Since Asmo is such a popular figure in Devildom public life, it isn't even surprising for the paparazzi to stop HIM to get a few photos and ask him his opinions on any fights or scandals.

Unlike Mammon, he's never been in one himself (MC has no idea how bloody Demon RTV can get and does he want to ruin his skin like that?? Hell no!). He doew hang out with the stars of shows he likes all of the time, though.

He sometimes has watch parties with Mammon and MC gets invited along now. Being in the middle of those two is insane because it's like getting to know ALL of the dirty laundry of the kingdom's elite at every get together. Gossipy bitches be chattin' fr.

Beelzebub

Man will watch anything as long as they supply the snacks.

Does Beel care about reality shows? No. Not even a little bit. Will he watch all 16 seasons of Married at First Sight as long as MC refills his popcorn bowl? Absolutely!

Honestly, poor Beel can hardly keep up with the drama anyway... If a show has too many love triangles, he'll lose track of who's dating who and sit there lost for an excruciating amount of time.

Was even more confused about why anyone would watch these shows after MC told them they were staged. All that shouting is over nothing...?? This is a really weird genre...

MC would have an easier time getting him invested in like... I dunno a cooking game show than anything having to do with relationship drama. Though they would run the risk of soaking the couch in drool if they try...

Belphegor

Not super into them or super against them. He'll watch one in the background until he inevitably falls asleep.

Belphie is probably one of the brothers most likely to agree to watch any reality show MC wants with them, but with the understanding that's he's only using it as an excuse for cuddle time.

Belphie weirdly has both zero emotional investment in anything happening on the screen but also a frighteningly good memory for what actually happens per episode... MC could quiz him on actor personalities, timelines, scandals, or relationships and he'll somehow always get it right.

He can tell you that Vassago and Sitri from 2nd Circle Beats are having a feud over who sent the succubus to crash Baal's birthday party, but seriously don't expect him to care. He wants soft blankets and warm bodies to nap to. Give him that and he's happy.

Part of it is just learned behavior. Belphie was Asmo's go-to watch buddy for the longest time. Whatever part of his brain that soaks up class lessons in his sleep seems to work just as well for the dramatic minutiae of a reality show, so he's like a walking DVR.

Diavolo

Thinks that all reality shows are so quaint and amusing, but they definitely skew his impression on everyday human life...

After being exposed to some of the longer running shows, he was really surprised that MC and Solomon are so... chill with each other?

I mean. They weren't throwing drinks, talking shit, or stabbing each other in the back every second of day, right? Obviously they must be quite close!

He even comments on how truly well they must get along as Master and Apprentice! Such a beautiful bond... Stronger than their natural human impulse for complete social and emotional disorder!!

(Please educate him on actual human dynamics and NOT just the ones that get dramatized for TV. We're not that bad, Dia, promise.)

Barbatos

Doesn't exactly like the shows, nor does he have time for them, but if MC likes them then he'll swallow his distain.

Honestly, Barbs looks down on the humans in reality shows even more than he does most of humanity in general. The things some of them would do to chase fame is simply... Well. He looks forward to seeing certain individuals among damned one day.

He probably busies himself by giving MC a foot rub or caring for their nails while they watch their shows. Anything that can keep his eyes off the screen.

Occasionally, something OUTRAGEOUS will happen and MC will hear him make a small scoff of disapproval, but that's about it.

He's well aware that a portion of what is presented is fake or at least staged to some degree, so he doesn't let it paint his perception of human culture. That said, he thinks that anyone who's willing to make a spectacle of themselves for a public audience speaks quite enough on its own. (And seriously don't get him started on the demon variety of these shows unless you want to seem him get grouchy).

Simeon

Also not the biggest fan, but he does enjoy getting to guiltlessly throw shade from time to time.

At some level, Simeon thinks it's a little impolite to gawk at total strangers and judge how they handle their relationships... butvon the other hand, they ARE the ones who agreed to the cameras so...

Has a strict policy to never watch reality shows in front of Luke so he doesn't get a bad influence. But also, so the little angel doesn't end up hearing the absolute INFERNO that Simeon roasts the actors with.

"Ah... So naturally gifted in all but wits!" "I do believe that young man is quite familiar... I think I once saw something much like him at the bottom of my shoe." "Mm? MC? Are you sitting on the remote? I think you may have changed the channel to Devildom TV... No? Oh. My mistake. They just seemed so heartless that I thought they'd fit in well here..."

Tearing. Scathing. His contempt cannot be contained. It is, however, a good outlet for him so please let him roast away!

Solomon

Guy is so out of touch with the modern era that watching these shows is just as bizarre to him as watching a viewing screen into a Victorian ballroom would be to us. Who keeps creating these strange words every other month...?

Reality dating shows give him whiplash. People get married now after 90 days? Or at first sight?? Or before they even SEE each other at all??? The last time he ever thought of courtship, it was still mostly arranged by the couple's families... Things have really sped up.

Not that he's complaining too much, because that gives him all the more reason to go through with his fantasy of proposing to then marry the MC in less than 12 hours (or however long before the brothers notice he's attempting to steal them away).

He feels like he has a leg up on the angels and demons around them for once because at least MC doesn't have to stop and explain human customs to him every five seconds. ... Just the modern ones.

I feel like watching Reality TV with Solomon is a very, "Let's get a little drunk and laugh at the screen" sort of affair. Very loose with a lot of jokes flying at the actors expense. He may or may not remember what all happens in the show, but hey, it's good fun!