#but still too tired to find the energy to do so :(

[supersexynerd]

“Can I be alone with you?”

Student!Nanami x Classmate!Reader

Summary; you always felt overwhelmed in the energised fast paced hang outs with the people of your year. Finding solace in a quiet part of the schools library, when someone finds you; someone who understands more than you might realise.

Warnings; fluff and that’s pretty much it, platonic but theres something forming

Currently not proofread

Joining Jujutsu High was probably one of the best things that had happened in your life. Life at home in the Zenin clan only came with imense pressure and never really feeling like you belonged anyways.

Here however; you had made amazing friends who you can be yourself around and focus on becoming a better sorcerer without the callouse critiquing from your elders.

As much as you loved your friends though there was one thing which still made you feel a little detached from them. While a lot of them always seemed filled to the brim with social energy (cough cough Gojo) you never had such a high social battery. Even Shoko who complains about the erratic white haired man still had a spring in her step to the Friday night hangouts that you often tried to avoid; it was by no means an insult to them you loved your friends! Just not necessarily the amount of overwhelming noise and stimulus that comes with hanging around with them- especially after a long week of schoolwork and missions.

So this is how you very happily spent your Friday night. Sat in the peace of the library on one of the sofas, book in hand with headphones in and some snack you ad been craving that day. You found the library a lot more peaceful than your own room, unlucky for you you shared a wall with the communal space in the dormitories that was the source of current events. No the quiet small dormitory Library downstairs suited you just fine.

“What are you doing here?” a monotone voice broke your concentration, causing you to startle looking up to see your tall emo looking friend.

Shuffling in the sofa to sit straight, you eyed him cautiously. Nanami is usually in the communal area talking with Haibara, how did he find you here? Was he even looking?

“It’s nothing on you guys, I just prefer a more… quiet way to unwind after a long week.” You admitted, face turning a little red as you closed your book, using a photo of you and Shoko as a bookmark.

Nanami sat down next to you, huffing “Gojo can be a bit too much on times can’t he?” he said seeing the subcontext of your explanation. In all honesty that was what drew Nanami to come find you. He was simply too tired to deal with Satoru’s immense bundles of energy despite every one of you getting ran through with missions and extra hard lessons this week. He always wondered where you went off, despite his universal expression making it seem like seeing you was simply a coincidence.

Nanami always took a liking to you. The way your snarky quips were the only thing to make Satoru shut up when he went on one of his stupid tangents. How you could outsmart Geto and always knew how to cheer Shoko up when she felt bad about her quirk being more on the utility side.

Not to mention you’re beauty but Nanami would never admit he thought of that.

“You like horror?” Nanami tried striking up conversation prodding at the scary looking cover of the book.

You just chuckled, rubbing your tired eyes from reading so much. “Don’t act like it’s something revolutionary” your usual sarcastic demeanour shining through your kind smile. “It’s actually really good” you looked over to the cover again, “it’s a four part series, I’m only on the first book, started it tonight actually”

Nanami let a small smile listening to you, not wanting you to stop talking, he asked for you to tell him more about what it was about.” Small red heat blanketing his cheeks as your eyes lit up with excitement, telling Nanami every detail of how you don’t entirely like one of the characters, you’re in love with one (who’s description seemed a little too close to himself), and how you were biting your nails all night at how on edge the book was.

It felt nice, you rarely had people to talk about this sort of thing with. Shoko refuses to listen about or watch anything horror as it scared the crap out of her. It was refreshing to have someone want to listen to you rant endlessly about different aspects.

You hadn’t meant to talk for so long, honestly you hadn’t, you were so carried away in your ramblings you saw your phone flash 11:43PM.

“I am so sorry!” You tried apologising profusely but Nanami just waved it off.

“Don’t be. I’ve enjoyed listening to you.” and you realise this whole time he’s been smiling, something you did not see often, especally not tis genuine. “On saying that though we should head back to our rooms.”

He was right and you knew it. You stood up wrapping your blanket over your shoulders as the pair of you walked back, sharing a comfortable silence only broken by soft yawns from both of you.

Another week had gone by, you couldn’t help but think about the evening when Nanami found you. It was a nice thing for someone to do, and you’d be lying if saying talking about your latest obsession didn’t make you feel giddy.

Another Friday night, another sofa that was taken by only you yet for the first time you felt a little sad it was just you. You shook it off, it was a once time thing, but then something catches your gaze as you get comfy under the blanket.

It was Nanami, in comfy clothes and glasses which he usually only wore during lesson.

“I know you like being alone, I was just wondering… Can I be alone with you?” Nanami said walking up to you nervously, hand massaging the back of his neck. Peering at his other arm you could see a book he was carrying in his palm “I brought my own too”

“Yes! Of course you can” you beamed before getting a little embarrassed at how excited you sounded, redness pouring over your face giving it away but Nanami just smiled softly as he took his place on the other side of the two person couch. “What book is that?” You investigated the cover as you offered him the other end of your very large blanket.

“It’s a mystery novel. I like reading them sometimes to see if I can figure it out before the big reveal. I’m about halfway through this one and it’s about this problematic rich family who’s haunted by this big secret of some sort. I have a feeling I know what it is but in a weird way that makes it more exciting for me; now I get to feel really smug if I’ve guessed it or, I’m astonished at how wrong I am” he finished with a chuckle.

This was a new side you were seeing to him, in a cringy cliche it was like you were seeing Kento, not Nanami. Your gaze softened as you listened to his rambles, your stomach fluttering in a way that caught you off guard.

“Come on then” you smirked “what do you think the big secret it?”

Kento smiles “well it’s definitely something surrounding the children I think, my money is on the mother had an affair and the twins aren’t really the fathers” he explained opening his book “I have half of it left, I’ll probably finish most of it tonight.”

“I look forward to finding out.” You smiled before you two both sat in another comfortable silence enjoying your own books. Stealing secret glances at each other every now and again, sometimes accidentally catching each other and hurriedly returning to your books cheeks flushed.

After a good two hours you saw Kento’s expression change to shock as he placed a hand over his mouth, reading a little more frantically. You look up amused, “what’s the matter?”

“They’re… Siblings” Kento says in astonishment.

“Well yeah they’re twins aren’t they?” You looked at him not quite understanding.

“No [Y/N], the parents. The mother and father are siblings”

“Ew!” You contorted your face.

“I know!” He exclaimed before you both burst into laughter.

The rest of the night was spent talking on both of your books, laughing at jokes and it was a refreshing change which both of you didn’t want to admit how much you loved.

Before you knew it it was starting to get late again, a solemnness draped across the pair of you while you walked back, not wanting it to end but knew there was a curfew you had to meet.

“Same time next Friday?” You asked as you two reached the dorms. A wide grin causing a glint in his eyes seeps into his face as he nods enthusiastically in agreement.

And so started your new routine. Every Friday, you and Nanami would sneak away to the library to meet. The first half always spent reading then the second half started out and just talking about what you had just seen but the more you two grew comfortable the more there was additions of trivial things such as gossip you had heard off of Shoko which Kento surprisingly loved hearing to, and adding! The conversation would even turn to deeper levels as the pair of you really started to feel something between you two.

The only problem was that the pair of you were too awkward or nervous to say anything.

One Friday after a particularly gruelling week, by 8PM which was usually the time you two would stop reading and begin talking, Nanami looked over to see you asleep.

He spent a few moments looking at you, not wanting to be a creep but found you so beautiful all relaxed and peaceful. He put the photo of you and Shoko in between the pages that were sandwiching your thumb while you were asleep, picking you up bridal style.

Blanket draping on the floor as he carried you back to your dorm, settling you down in bed. The whole time not startling once, making Nanami feel his heart swell knowing how comfortable and safe you felt in his presence.

Unconsciously, after settling you into bed with the covers over you now, slippers neatly placed on the floor near the edge of your bed, Nanami couldn’t help the small soft kiss he peppered onto your forehead. Earning a happy little hum from you still deep in sleep.

Kento didn’t have the courage to confess, but right now this moment was enough for now.

A/N: ahhhhh this was so cute to write. part of me is wondering if I should continue it??

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

hi! i love your work so so much! i have a request for you, i know it takes you a lot of time to get thru your requests but i hope you will see this soon ❤️

would you be able to do one when reader is in an abusive relationship and kylian is her friend and they have been in love since they were kids but couldn’t find a way to work it out somehow so she dates someone else who’s absolutely awful and kylian is worried and protective? happy ending please haha

thank you in advance and i so look forward to what you do with my request i have a feeling it will another masterpiece 😍😍😍

Hi! Hope your having a great day.

I really liked this request, and I got so much inspiration, I started writing immediately. I hope you like it.

Don't forget my Patreon is now available for $3 for the month of December; don't miss your chance to catch up on all the exclusive content before the month ends!

Safe Haven

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where he saves you.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x You

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 4.3k

Warnings! ANGST!! protective!Kylian, you have a shit boyfriend, TRIGGER WARNING!! Abuse, domestic violence, FLUFF! Kylian is your guardian angel,

The café hummed with soft chatter and the rhythmic clink of ceramic mugs, a cozy soundtrack that usually invited comfort.

But Kylian barely noticed.

His attention was on you, sitting across the table, absently stirring your coffee as if lost in thought—or avoiding it altogether.

His sharp gaze caught the faint bruises peeking out from beneath the sleeve of your sweater, their mottled edges just visible under the soft café light. He clenched his jaw, biting back the wave of anger and helplessness that surged within him.

He knew better than to mention them directly—he’d tried before, only for you to shut him down.

“How’s work?” he asked, his voice deceptively light, masking the feelings that were brewing inside him.

You looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Busy, as usual. But good.”

He nodded, even though the lie tasted bitter.

You were thinner than you’d been the last time he saw you, the shadows under your eyes darker. The spark—the vibrant, carefree energy that you used to be—felt like a distant memory.

He couldn’t recall the last time you laughed uncontrollably, the way you used to when you were kids, running barefoot through the fields, teasing him mercilessly about his attempst at a backflip.

That version of you felt like someone from another life, a ghost he couldn’t reach no matter how hard he tried.

Kylian had given you so much space over the last few months, trying not to push you into discussing something you weren’t ready to. But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what he could have done differently—if he’d spoken up sooner, if he’d been stronger or braver—would you be with him instead of the man you now called your boyfriend?

You didn’t tell him about it, but he knew.

How could he not?

“Kylian.” His name was a whisper on your lips.

He snapped out of his thoughts, looking up to meet your gaze. “Yeah?” he answered, voice hoarse.

“Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowing.

Kylian was caught off-guard. “I—yeah, I’m fine. Just tired,” he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He felt his heart clench at the look on your face. So worried about him. It should be him worried about you not the other way around.

Kylian swallowed down the lump in his throat, his gaze dropping to your hand, your delicate fingers still wrapped around your coffee cup. He’d always liked your hands—had even sketched them once, during a boring math class when he was younger. Not that they looked the best.

Now, he couldn’t help but notice the way they were shaking, the tremors almost invisible.

“Hey, you don’t have to stay.” He cleared his throat. “If you’re tired—”

“No, I mean, it’s fine. I have a few minutes.” You shrugged.

“I understand. I’m probably taking up too much of your time anyway,” he said, forcing himself to smile.

Your brow furrowed. “No, that’s not—”

The door to the café jingled, and Kylian didn’t miss the way your shoulders tensed at the sound. His stomach sank, a cold dread settling over him. He didn’t need to turn around to know what—or rather, who—had caused it.

“Hey, babe. You’re late,” a voice cut through the warm buzz of the café, gruff and sharp.

Kylian’s chest tightened as Adrien approached the table, clenching his fist under the table. You flinched, muttering a quiet, “Sorry, Adrien,” your voice barely audible over the blood pounding in Kylian’s ears.

Adrien’s hand landed on your shoulder, his grip firm, possessive, and entirely too telling. Kylian’s eyes narrowed as he caught the flicker of pain in your expression, the way you recoiled ever so slightly. Adrien turned his gaze to Kylian, his eyes cold, daring him to intervene.

“Time to go,” Adrien said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Kylian’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, the sound cutting through the air like a challenge. “She’s not ready yet,” he said evenly, his voice steady, though his fists clenched at his sides.

Adrien straightened, towering over him, but Kylian didn’t waver. The protective instinct roaring to life inside him drowned out the rational voice warning him to tread carefully. He’d spent too many nights wondering if he should’ve done more, said more, instead of tiptoeing around the cracks in your life, afraid of making things worse.

“Kylian, it's fine,” you said hurriedly, standing and grabbing your bag. Your words were meant to soothe, but your tone betrayed you. It wasn’t fine. Not the way your hands trembled as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Not the fear flickering in your eyes as Adrien’s shadow loomed over you.

And certainly not when Kylian remembered the late-night calls, your voice breaking as you insisted everything was okay while your silence screamed the opposite.

He reached out, hand brushing your arm, trying to reassure you. “Are you sure, Y/N—” he started, his voice catching as Adrien interrupted, his hand tightening around your wrist.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta get going. Nice to see you, Kylian.” Adrien’s words dripped with sarcasm, his eyes glacial.

You murmured something indistinguishable as Adrien dragged you away, leaving Kylian with nothing but a heavy feeling and a cold cup of coffee. He watched you disappear out the door, the memory of your haunted eyes searing a hole through his chest.

That night, Kylian sat perched on the edge of his bed, his phone resting heavily in his hands. The glow of the screen illuminated his face in the dark, but it was the storm in his heart that truly kept him awake.

He couldn’t bear it anymore.

Watching you crumble under the weight of someone else’s cruelty was killing him slowly. You deserved better—so much better than what life had handed you. You deserved love, the kind he’d always wanted to give you, but he’d been too much of a coward to fight for it when it mattered most.

His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, trembling with indecision. Minutes bled into each other as he stared at the screen, lost in a sea of regrets and what-ifs. What if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if it was already too late?

The sharp, shrill sound of his ringtone sliced through the silence of his room, startling him so violently that his phone nearly slipped from his grasp. His heart leapt into his throat as he scrambled to pick up the call.

“Y/N,” he whispered, your name escaping his lips like a prayer. His heart pounded with a rhythm that threatened to drown out every other sound.

“Kylian…” Your voice cracked through the line, so soft, so fragile, that he almost didn’t recognize it. Your tone made his stomach twist with dread.

“Hey,” he said, forcing a calmness he didn’t feel, his voice catching as he heard your faint, uneven breathing. It only took a second before he picked up on the muffled sobs in the background. Whatever composure he’d been clinging to shattered in an instant.

“Help me, Kylian,” you whimpered, the sound hitting him like a dagger to the chest. “I can’t—I can’t move.”

His blood ran cold, fear clawing its way through him. “Y/N, what’s happening?” he demanded, panic creeping into his voice despite his best efforts. He shot up from his bed, fumbling to pull on a pair of jeans.

“I’m… I’m in the bathroom,” you managed between sobs, each word cutting through him like shards of glass. “Adrien—he was so angry—he hurt me, Kylian. I—I didn’t know what to do…” Your voice broke entirely, dissolving into gut-wrenching cries.

Kylian froze, his mind struggling to process what you’d just said. He’d never heard you sound so broken, so utterly defeated. It tore at his very soul.

“Okay, listen to me. Don’t move, alright?” he said firmly, pulling on a sweatshirt with trembling hands. “I’m coming to you. Right now.”

“Please, Kylian, don’t let him get to me.” Your voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I’m so scared…”

He could feel his heart splintering with every word you uttered, but he forced himself to stay strong—for you. Grabbing his keys, he bolted out of his apartment, already dialing 911 with shaking fingers as he sprinted toward the front door of his building.

"I’m coming, Y/N,” he whispered, the vow burning in his chest. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” He spoke the words, but he wasn’t sure if you were even still on the line to hear them. “Y/N? Y/N!!? Answer me!”

No answer.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw the tears drip down his face. He was halfway to your place when the operator picked up, his words tumbling out in a disjointed, panicked mess.

“He’s going to hurt her. Please, you have to help us. I don’t know what he’s going to do. I can’t lose her,” he cried, the last word cracking in his throat.

The operator tried to keep him talking, but Kylian was too far gone to focus on anything but your broken sobs still echoing through his phone. The sound was forever seared into his head, haunting him as he drove.

By the time he arrived at your apartment, he’d convinced himself of the worst. Every nightmare he’d been trying to suppress had come alive in his mind, clawing at his sanity and leaving him raw with terror.

His heart thundered wildly, a beat of dread that pounded louder with every frantic step up the stairs. He barely registered the ache in his legs or the burning in his lungs. All that mattered was getting to you.

When he reached your door, there was no hesitation. The wood splintered under the force of his kick, the loud crack echoing through the apartment. He froze for a split second, his heart lurching in his chest as his eyes found Adrien standing in the kitchen.

Adrien turned at the noise, his lips curling into a cruel, mocking smile that made Kylian’s blood boil.

A storm of rage surged inside him, hot and blinding, coursing through his veins with a fury he’d never known. Every thought, every ounce of logic, every shred of restraint burned away, leaving nothing but raw, unrelenting anger. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, his body moving before his mind could catch up.

Kylian didn’t care about the consequences.

He didn’t care about the destruction he was about to cause. There was no room for anything but the white-hot need to make Adrien pay. His fist connected with Adrien’s jaw, the sickening crack reverberating through the room. He barely felt the pain in his knuckles as Adrien staggered backward, already crumpling before Kylian tackled him to the ground.

The two of them slammed into the kitchen table, the force of the collision shattering it beneath their weight. Adrien’s curses filled the air, but Kylian barely heard them. His vision was a blur of red, his world reduced to the satisfying sound of his fists meeting Adrien’s face. Blow after blow, he poured every ounce of his fury into the man beneath him.

It ended as abruptly as it had started. Adrien lay on the floor, curled into himself, his hands clutching his broken jaw as he whimpered in pain. Kylian stood above him, chest heaving, his fists trembling and smeared with blood—his own, Adrien’s, he couldn’t tell.

“Kylian.”

Your voice. Soft, broken, barely audible, but it cut through the fog like a blade. He turned, his breath hitching as his eyes found you.

You were huddled on the bathroom floor, your body limp and trembling, your face streaked with tears. Bruises marred your arms and neck, vivid against your skin, and the sight of them made something inside him shatter. There was blood—so much blood—and the sight of it made his stomach twist painfully.

As he approached, you whispered something, your voice trembling, but the words were lost to him. All he could focus on was the fear in your eyes, the pain etched into your expression. His knees hit the tiled floor as he knelt beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly before he gently pulled you into his arms.

You flinched at the contact, a broken sob escaping your lips as you collapsed against him. Your body shook violently, every tremor a testament to the horror you’d endured. Kylian held you close, his arms tightening around you protectively, as if his embrace alone could shield you from the world.

He didn’t speak; there were no words for this. Instead, he buried his face in your hair, his breath ragged as he fought back the tears burning in his eyes. His hands trembled as they stroked your hair, his touch as gentle as he could make it. Your cries filled the small bathroom, echoing off the walls and breaking his heart anew with every sound.

He held you, rocking you gently, his own breaths hitching as he whispered silent promises into the air. You were safe now. You were in his arms, and he wouldn’t let anything—or anyone—hurt you again.

Not while he lived.

When the police and paramedics finally arrived, Kylian refused to let you go, even as they gently coaxed him to give you over to them. He couldn’t let you be taken from him again. You were his to protect now, and he would spend the rest of his life fighting for your safety.

The ride to the hospital was a blur of noise and color, the sounds of the sirens and the flashing lights mingling to consume him whole. But none of it mattered. Not as long as you were safe in his arms.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Kylian stayed at your side, his fingers laced tightly with yours, feeling as though letting go might mean losing you. His grip was firm, almost desperate, and the silent promise in his eyes—I’m here, I’m not leaving—was unshakable.

Even when the nurses and doctors ushered him away, insisting they needed to examine you in private, he stood frozen for a moment, his hand hovering in the air where yours had been. Then, reluctantly, he stepped back, the ache in his chest growing heavier with each step that took him further from you.

Outside the door, the minutes dragged, each tick of the clock hammering against his already raw nerves.

He paced the narrow corridor, his footsteps echoing in the quiet, sterile hallway. His gaze never strayed from the closed door, the sight of it both a barrier and a lifeline.

Inside, you were there—hurt, vulnerable, but there. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as anger and fear collided within him, swirling a storm in his stomach.

He wanted to be strong for you, but the truth was, he was terrified. All he wanted, all he needed, was to hold you in his arms again, to feel your warmth against him, to reassure himself that you were still here, still breathing.

The moment the door opened, Kylian was on his feet, the chair he had been sitting in scraping loudly against the floor as he sprang up.

His heart leaped into his throat at the sight of you being wheeled out, your small frame seeming even smaller against the stark white sheets of the hospital bed. Your face was limp, twisting a knife in his chest.

For a second, he couldn’t move, frozen by the sheer weight of the fear he’d been holding back. But then, the tears came, hot and unrelenting, slipping down his face as he stepped forward and gently took your hand.

Your skin was cold, far too cold, and the sob he had been swallowing threatened to break free. He tightened his grip on your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, as if the simple gesture might anchor you—and him—to something solid.

He tried, tried so hard, to hold himself together for you, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Silent at first, then heavier, until they dripped onto the blanket covering you.

Without hesitation, Kylian climbed onto the narrow hospital bed beside you. He moved carefully, afraid that any sudden movement might hurt you, but his need to be close to you overrode every other thought.

He slipped an arm around you, cradling your fragile body against his own, and pressed his face into your shoulder. The faint scent of lavender and vanilla, though dulled by the sharp tang of antiseptic, wafted his senses, soothing him instantly.

He laid his head against your chest, his ear pressed to the place where your heartbeat was steady and strong. That sound—it was everything. It was life, it was hope, it was you. His arms tightened around you as though he could shield you from the world.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt his lungs expand fully, his breath coming easier. You were here. You were okay. The crushing weight of fear that had threatened to break him all night began to lift.

He kissed your temple, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet, “I won’t fail you again. Never again.” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion, but there was no wavering in his promise. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do, he would keep you safe.

As your breathing slowed, your chest rising and falling with a soothing rhythm, it lulled him into a peace he hadn’t known in days. The tension in his body eased, and his eyelids grew heavy.

There, with you in his arms, he allowed himself to drift into sleep, deep and restful, knowing that for now, in this moment, everything was right again.

You were safe. And that was all that mattered.

You woke to the sound of beeping, the muted murmur of hospital chatter bleeding through the closed door, and the feeling of warmth against your body.

Your eyelids fluttered open, your gaze focusing slowly on the unfamiliar ceiling above you.

For a moment, you forgot where you were, disoriented by the sterile smell and the harsh overhead light filtering in through the window blinds. Your body ached, every muscle protesting as you shifted slightly, and then you felt it—a warm weight draped across you.

Kylian.

He was curled against you on the narrow bed, his arms wrapped around you as if even in sleep, he couldn’t let go. His head rested on your shoulder, his breath soft and even against your skin.

The sight of him broke something in you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the memories of the night before crashed down on you like a tidal wave. Adrien’s fury, the pain, the fear that had gripped you so tightly it was hard to breathe—and then Kylian, bursting through the door like a storm.

He had come for you. He had saved you.

You reached up with trembling fingers, brushing them gently against his cheek where a bruise was slightly formed. The motion made him stir, his brow furrowing before his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he looked confused, his gaze darting around the room until it settled on you.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice thick with sleep. Relief flooded his features, and he sat up slightly, his hand instinctively reaching out to cup your face gently. Always gently.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. His eyes searched yours, dark and filled with so much concern it made your chest tighten.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt raw, your words catching. All you could do was nod, tears spilling freely now as the enormity of everything hit you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible from how dry your throat was. “For everything—for dragging you into this, for—”

“Hey, no,” he interrupted firmly, his hand shifting to cradle the back of your head. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault, Y/N. You hear me? None of it.”

His words were steady, unwavering, and you believed him because you wanted to. You wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as broken as you felt.

“I was so scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I thought—I thought I wouldn’t make it. And then you—”

“I’ll always come for you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “No matter what, no matter when. I’ll always be there.”

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and comforting, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as his forehead pressed gently against yours. The world outside could wait. For now, in this quiet, sterile hospital room, all that mattered was the warmth of his skin against yours and the safety of his arms.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the space between them. “Thank you for saving me.” You felt his body tense against yours before he gathered you into his arms again.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his words a quiet promise. “You’re safe, Y/N.” His voice rumbled against you, vibrating in his chest beneath your cheek.

For the first time since you could remember, you truly believed that. You were safe. And it felt wonderful.

Weeks passed, and with them, healing.

You spent the first two in the hospital, but by the third, you were well enough to be discharged.

Kylian never left your side. He pushed your wheelchair down the hospital corridor, refusing to let anyone else take his place. It was his right, his privilege, he said. And you let him.

When you were finally cleared to go home, he drove you to his apartment. You didn’t argue; you didn’t need to. It was quiet there, peaceful, with him always nearby.

At first, you were hesitant to take up space in his life, but Kylian left no room for doubt.

He cooked for you, and insisted on carrying you to the couch when you were too weak to walk. He never pushed you to talk, but his presence said everything: I’m here. You’re not alone. It was a comfort, a shelter, that you’d needed for so long.

One evening, as you were lying on his couch, cocooned in a blanket, he sat beside you, a cautious distance away. He took a deep breath, his eyes clouding with something you couldn’t quite name. You could see his thoughts playing out across his features as he struggled to find the right words.

"I'm sorry." The soft glow of the lamp casts shadows across his face, but his eyes remain steady on yours. “I should’ve done something sooner,” he says, his voice thick with guilt. “I saw what was happening, but I was too afraid. Afraid of losing you… even though I never really had you.”

His confession startles you. You sit up slowly, wincing at the lingering pain in your ribs. “Kylian, it’s not your fault,” you whisper. “You didn’t hurt me. He did.”

“But I let it happen,” he counters, his jaw tightening. “I—” He cuts himself off, running a hand over his coils. “I should’ve told you how I felt. Maybe then you would’ve been with me instead of him.”

Your breath catches. How he felt? The room feels suddenly too small, too quiet. “How you felt?” you echo, your voice barely audible.

Kylian hesitates, his vulnerability laid bare. “How I feel,” he corrects, his gaze searching yours. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Watching you with him—it tore me apart. But I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

Tears well in your eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming realization of what Kylian has done for you—what he’s always done for you. “You are good enough,” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re more than enough, Kylian. You saved me. You’ve always been there, even when I didn’t know I needed you.”

Before you can second-guess yourself, you reach out, your fingers brushing his. His hand is warm, grounding, as he laces his fingers through yours. His breath hitches, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers. “But I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I should’ve been brave enough before, but I won’t waste any more time.”

His words are a promise, a vow. It takes your breath away.

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t look away. “I'm not ready to open my heart again. I-I can't.” you admit, your voice trembling but resolute.

Kylian’s expression softens, the tension in his jaw easing as he takes in your words. His thumb gently grazes the back of your hand, a quiet reassurance. “I’ll wait,” he says simply, his voice steady. “For as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his words lights up your soul, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight pressing down on you feels a little lighter. You lean back, settling into the cushions again, and Kylian adjusts, staying close without crowding you.

For a while, the two of you sit in silence, comfortable silence.

“Kylian?” you murmur after a while, your eyes drifting to the ceiling.

“Yeah?” His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid to disturb the fragile peace between you.

“Thank you,” you say, glancing at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “For everything.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, his gaze searching yours as if committing this moment to memory. Then, he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Always,” he says, and you know he means it.

For the first time in years, you believe that you will be safe—that you will be more than safe. You will be loved.

-Bianca🌻

[houkagokappa]

Bless Mokumokuren for outright stating that the genre tags for Hikaru ga Shinda Natsu have never changed, i.e. the official site never dropped the "BL" tag from the series as it got more popular to reach a wider audience. It's been a persistent rumor in the fandom, and one I'm afraid will start circulating again once the anime starts airing.

If you mainly follow English language sources, please remember that whatever tags different anime and manga sites, databases, aggregators etc., either add or leave out don't always reflect the author's intent and the official sources, and should NOT be used to argue for what genre or demographic a certain work belongs to. It can just be random people claiming whatever they want based on their own interpretations and I've seen plenty of errors and real time changes to them based on new chapter developments, that might help catch the attention of some people, but don't suddenly change the genre of the work itself.

Not having BL as a genre tag also doesn't mean that a work can't include any boys loving. The queer themes have always been present in HGSN, and if you're up to date with the manga, they've been outright stated. Having queer characters or a queer story line doesn't automatically mean that a work is BL or yuri, and not including those tags doesn't mean that it's just "baiting". This gets brought up so much I think Mokumokuren's gotten tired of it, because the other day they clearly spelled it out for everyone, assuring that the story is queer, although it's not tagged as BL or focused on romance.

Here's what they shared on their Bluesky account:

The genre tag and advertising direction on the official website have never changed since the beginning of serialization. From the beginning, it has been consistently promoted as a "coming-of-age horror" within the official reach. (It's also true that the official reach is very limited…) Whatever the genre tag is, and even if this story isn't a romance, as the author, I guarantee that it is a queer story. There seems to be a persistent false rumor going around that "the author suddenly removed the BL tag from the official website by the 3rd volume," but the truth is that there was never an official BL tag from the beginning. (This is not to deny any queerness.)

And further back:

My opinion that the genre of The Summer Hikaru Died is something that the readers are free to think about on their own remains unchanged, but I view it as a story that sympathizes with those who have been left out of stories about love and sex, so I describe it as "coming-of-age horror." I think the key is the fear of not being “normal” and not having a place to belong, which is common for all kinds of people regardless of their attributes. I think it's fine for queer stories that aren't romances to exist. That's why I've been careful not to position it as a love story from the start.

Let's stop obsessing over tags and allow queer stories to exist and thrive, even when they lack a clear romantic plot or subplot and are more subdued.

[sysig]

He’s my little meow meow, my darling, my bbygirl (Patreon)

[comradekarin]

Never shutting up about the flash and gl dynamic I’m seeing (and will continue to see as I watch) in jl/jlu. It’s the annoying gen z younger brother/perpetually tired and serious older brother dynamic y’all. It’s gl thinking wally is annoying and unserious and immature but he’s also regularly amused and indulging in wally and all of his wallyism. It’s gl wanting to dump wally somewhere in a desert but would also be sad if he left for like more than 48 hours. It’s gl wanting to bash his skull in by the sheer brilliance and stupidity wally exemplifies almost simultaneously (john watching wally deconstruct and reassemble alien technology for funsies !! vs watching wally eat twenty hot dogs in thirty seconds bc hawkgirl said he couldn’t). It’s gl being embarrassed by flash but also finding him super funny ,, but it’s even funnier to pretend he doesn’t because then you get your cringe best friend/little brother that’s either on child genius or dumber than a brick wall defending you from getting a death penalty sentence at a public intergalactic space trial where you are being accused of abusing authority and executing a mass genocide. And then y’all go to a baseball game that same day.

[running-in-the-dark]

it's been a month since we moved into the new apartment -

I'm so stressed. everything is stressful. we're still not done building the kitchen but it's getting there (slowly). mostly we just need to wait until we get a couple parts that weren't in stock when we ordered the rest. I'm hoping it'll be done by next weekend.

some of it is very frustrating with my brain specifically. I'm so bothered by all the tiny little things that no one else would even notice - like, some of the handles on the drawers are very slightly crooked (as in, less than a millimeter higher on one side) - but for me it's so obvious that it's impossible to ignore. my husband didn't even know what I meant when I pointed it out to him. there's also been a few slightly bigger issues, but we've solved them now (I think).

my eye has been twitching for like three to four weeks. not all the time obviously, but every few minutes. it's very, very annoying.

we still have no new info about when we'll have internet finally. it could take a while still.

on Monday a guy has to replace something in the electric roller shutters in one room - but we don't know which one yet. so either I'll have to let him into my room (awful, uncomfortable, will have to tidy up tomorrow so he could even get to the window), or I'll have to get both our cats into their carrier if it's the one in my husband's room (awful, difficult, one of them doesn't like that so he'll be scared and I'll feel bad).

also on Monday the electrician will install our stove (if he has time). then we're getting two ikea deliveries. and I've got an appointment with my (new) GP because I need a prescription, and I'm very (verrry) nervous about it.

I miss watching TV. I miss tumblr and YouTube and messaging my friends whenever I want and sending them photos all the time. I miss order and structure and (some level of) routine. I miss using real cutlery (we still haven't found ours lol).

when I was finally starting to get used to the noises in this place, the family above us moved in with their baby that cries all the time very very loudly and most of the time right above my room. so now everything is different again and I'm not adjusting well and once again I can't sleep.

but, I've listened to 14 audiobooks since we moved! that's been nice. it was the same way when we moved the last time (just over a year ago..). my favourite by far was The Thursday Murder Club. I've got the other ones in the series but I'm trying not to listen to them too quickly, so I'm gonna listen to three other books first (one is done already, so I should get there on Monday or Tuesday hopefully).

[sciderman]

i relate to peter parker because i’ve had six crushes this year alone

damn son save some for the rest of us!!

[saeshiraw]

tired girl hours i’m just ranting bcos i don’t have enough time to cry

[funkle420]

*takes my last adderall so i can finish all my work in one day*

*finishes one (1) assignment*

*gets distracted and spends the rest of the day hyperfocusing on delicious in dungeon again*

[quarklynx]

Casually flirting with the idea of fucking around and getting a master's degree. The time will pass anyway, right?

[barley-st-band]

hey does anyone know how we’re supposed to survive it all. asking for a friend

[tenrose]

It's cool because I'm no longer really depressed. Not exactly, I think.

However, I still have this problem I've never been able to get rid of. I have the idea of doing a thing but then my brain goes blank and I don't do the thing. If it's a mandatory thing I will at some point do it but like with guilt, anxiety, stress and quickly and badly. But the worse part is for hobbies. I do have ideas, desire but still I don't do the things. It absolutely make zero fucking sense. It's like my brain is lacking a connection between the thought and the execution of it. It's draining all of my energy. I don't know what to do with it.

Honestly as much as I don't like working, it's kind of a good thing that I have a job, obviously for money, but also to have a somewhat healthy pattern. It's not that healthy because I go to bed later than I should be and so I'm always tired. What I mean is that I have to cook, shower etc. And I do this because of work. I know this because every weekend everything fall apart from Friday to Sunday 18:00 when the guilt finally kick in. Like, I do enjoy cooking but somehow it's easier for me to cook for work than the weekend when I barely eat anything and at weird hours. So yes I perfectly know that if I didn't have a job I would be a total mess. And that's why unlike some of my colleagues I can't quit and give myself two months of rest before actively applying for a new job, I know it won't happen (also obviously money and even though I saved some I suffer from what I call "ex poor syndrome" so even though I know I could technically survive a few months without a salary my anxiety will never ever allow me to quit without having something to bring me money at the end of the month). So yes the plan is to apply to stuff till I have a the certainty to have a new job, then quit and take all my vacation days and maybe a few extra days. Problem is the energy needed to search for a new job. Similarly I kinda think about trying once again to do something about my driving licence, because I know I will have more chances to find a job, I could go live more in a suburb less expensive area and also the reality of adulthood since my grandpa hit me that I will need to be able to drive to take care of my parents someday. But then again my brain don't want to hear anything about it. So obviously I'm like, well then let's chill and let's do something we like. Writing about the books I finally read, collages, gif making, writing, I don't know literally drawing ugly doodles in a notebook? But even for this my brain shut down. It's exhausting I really don't know what to do with it anymore.

My brain literally lack the "click" thing that activates the whole process.

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Tomorrow: LAST DAY OF WORK!!! I'm doing max 2h30 of sorting papers and then I'm DONE!!!

[savage-rhi]

I'm very much a, "fuck yeah and fuck you, I don't need validation! I'm me, cunts!" kinda fella, but sometimes I could use support.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[autisticlee]

it always pisses me off when people start ghosting me and completely cut me off and think i'm annoying because I didn't ~get the hint~ all because they're too much of a coward to be straightforward and honest with me!!!!

i'll keep asking about a thing or when we are hanging out or try to converse with them, because their response is always excuses and not straight up "no" so how am I supposed to know?! either short responses of 1-5 words that I can't really respond to or things like "I'm busy this weekend/I'm too tired today/I forgot about it/we can try next time/I'll get back to you and le you know" are apparently all hints and lies to hide the truth. what they really mean when they tell me this is "no, stop asking. stop talking to me. I do not want to hang out with you or talk to you anymore"

why can't you just say that?! it will save you the annoyance of me asking you 20 times because i took your words at face value. your excuses sound temporary and you didn't get back to me so maybe you forgot. there are rare times people say these things and it's the truth or they really did forget!!!! when I say it, it's the truth. I also have a bad memory. you can't just suddenly ghost me for that! it's on you if you aren't being honest with me. it's up to you to be straightforward and tell the truth so you don't waste both our time. (what's worse is this is usually one of the first things I tell people when we meet. that I need then to be straightforward and honest. they promise they will but that's also a lie)

ghosting is so cruel (when the other person has no bad intentions/isnt causing harm). more cruel than telling me to my face you hate me and never want to speak again! i actually prefer that, so i at least know and can give up on your useless ass and stop wasting my time. don't give me false hope when i'm really excited to be friends and hang out, don't waste my time and energy and efforts, and don't lead me on with lies only to crush my entire soul when I find the truth much later. just say it and get it over with!!!! it's your fault if I annoy you by "not taking the hint" because there was no hint, lying isn't a hint. spill the truth and don't blame me for it!!!!!!

this is why i've given up with people and now only give attention to the ones who contact me first every time continuously, and I put little effort into anything anymore. I know that will end up making some people give up on me by thinking i dont care. but I'm tired of wasting my time and energy on the people who put no effort into me. you must prove yourself and keep doing it or I won't try at all. the people who ghost me and hurt me are to blame. yes, I live a very lonely existence with maybe one friend I talk to once every week or two for a total of 5 minutes at most. yes I wish I had more connections or closer ones. but i'm SO FUCKING TIRED. i'm tired of trying so much and so hard just for people to shit on my efforts and disrespect my needs and boundaries!!!!!!

why should I keep trying when it always ends bad and adds yet another layer to my trauma.