#i love getting to talk about our fanfic!!!

[pitchsidestories]

ex's and snow II Leah Williamson x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 3583

summary: a snow-covered hut in the Swiss Alps with a few good friends and ex-girlfriend Leah Williamson. Can the former lovers find each other again before the snow melts, or are they simply not meant to be together?

author's note: our first fanfic of 2025, we took our time and tried to make it a bit longer than usual and hope you like it.🥰🥰

The laughter got stuck in your throat when you saw your ex-girlfriend in the corridor.

Just seconds before, you were talking to Mariona and Ana Maria about a funny moment in the dressing room when you were all still playing for Barcelona. The short walk from the car to the cozy looking cottage had felt to you like a scene from the Last Christmas music video where good friends were having a good time together in a snow-capped cottage like this one was.

The magic of the enchanting setting was gone when you looked into the blue eyes of your former lover.

“Leah.”, you muttered in utter shock.

The looks she was sending you across the room were cold as the ice: ”You.”

Behind your back Mariona, Lia and Ana Maria stood silently as they watched the drama unfold in front of their eyes.

Both of your heads turned around to shot deadly glances at your mutual friend. “Keira Fae Walsh!”

“I didn’t do anything.”, she clarified, raising her hands innocently.

Slowly you shook your head: “No, you didn’t tell me she was going to be the surprise guest.”

“If I had known she would be here, I wouldn’t have come.”, Leah said spitefully.

The midfielder rolled her eyes in annoyance: “Stop whining, you both wanted to be included so I invited you both. You’ll survive.”

Knowing that there would only be three bedrooms and a sofa in the cabin plus two couples you turned hopeful to your former Barcelona teammate:” Ana we will share a room, right?”

“Sorry, you'll have to share.”, Ana Maria explained, destroying your hope for some peace in the night and nodding in the direction where your ex-girlfriend was sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“What, no way!”, you protested.

A mischievous smile played on the Swiss woman’s lip: “Oh come on, you’ll survive. Keira and Lucy are exes and get along too.”

“That’s different.”, you told her. Their breakup has been smooth with no hard edges unlike yours with the England national team captain.

She quickly commented:” Yeah, they’ve a dog together.”

“Luckily, we never got a dog.”, you countered brusquely. Even though you were aware that ever since Lucy and Keira adopted the West Highland Terrier Narla the two of you dreamed of a dog yourself.

With an amused smile on her face Lia had followed your verbal duel until asking everyone cheerfully: “Before someone murders her ex-girlfriend and turns this into a cozy mystery, would anyone like a hot chocolate?”

“I do.”, Laura announced smiling, holding hands with the Barcelona midfielder. While Keira’s head rested on the older woman’s shoulder.

“Amor, I’d like one as well.”, Mariona beamed at her Swiss girlfriend.

Grinning, Lia kissed the Spaniard on the cheek:” Of course, I’ll make you one.”

Seeing the four being this in love with each other, showed through those simple gestures, was equally heartwarming to you as well as a bit painful, reminding you of your own singleness.

You tried to cover up your own feelings with a half-joke: “I think I’ll need something stronger than that to survive this weekend.”

Without missing a beat, Laura send you a smirk from across the room: “You can put something stronger into your hot chocolate. We came prepared.”

She got up from her seat next to Keira and opened a cabinet, revealing a surprisingly large collection of liquor bottles. Grabbing a bottle of Irish Cream, she came back and poured a generous amount into your hot chocolate.

You didn’t protest. You just smiled mischievously at her: “You’re the best.”

“It’s not my first winter vacation in a cabin.”, she winked back while pouring some alcohol into her own mug.

“I can tell. It’s quite cozy actually, except for that pouting blonde sitting next to your girlfriend.” You nodded towards Keira who had changed seats to sit next to Leah and was now whispering quietly to her.

Laura only raised a knowing eyebrow at you and grinned: “Don’t worry we can spike her drink too.”

“Oh, she’s horrible when she’s drunk. You should have seen her after the Euros final.”, you laughed, thinking back to the summer of 2022.

“Really?”

You nodded: “Yes, I think I’ve never deleted that video of her in our hotel room.”

Pulling out your phone to show Laura the video, you tried to fight back a fond smile. Everything had felt easier and lighter back then, not just because you won the tournament. Now, looking at the footage of a younger, more relaxed Leah pirouetting around the room, your heart started to ache again.

“Oh, that’s hilarious.”, Laura smiled as she watched your phone screen where Leah drunkenly fell over and pulled the curtains of the hotel room down with her. You both had had a few too many celebratory drinks that night and you really thought it was the funniest thing you had ever seen.

“She refused to fall sleep after that. No one slept for more than two hours that night.”, you continued to explain, the memories filling you with a nostalgic kind of happiness.

Laura laughed politely: “I heard some of those stories from Kei. It sounded like you all had a good time back then.”

“We did but then she changed so much… You know, the fame. Everything happened so fast afterwards.”

Your break-up had been like a tornado. It came suddenly and without warnings. All you knew back then was that Leah was busy with fashion stuff and advertisements and suddenly, she wasn’t your Leah anymore.

Lauras face turned serious, her eyebrows knotting together: “Wait, that was the reason you two broke up?”

“Yes.”

“I heard it was super messy.”, Mariona contributed to your conversation, sliding closer to you and away from the rest of the group.

“You can say that again.”, you sighed.

On the other side of the room, Keira and Leah had their own conversation.

“Kei, I’ll never forgive you.”, Leah hissed at her best friend.

“It’s not that bad, Leah.”

The defender rolled her eyes: “Sure, maybe for you.”

Keira groaned with frustration: “You’re so dramatic!”

Suddenly Leah decided: “I’ll lay down before dinner.”

“What about your hot chocolate?”, the midfielder frowned.

She had barely spoken the words when Lia handed the blonde a steaming cup that smelled deliciously of chocolate.

“Oh, thank you, Wally.”, she mumbled gratefully before sipping the hot drink.

With a warm smile the brunette promised: “Drink it, you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“Does she magically go away after I finished drinking this too?”, Leah wanted to know from her in a hopeful tone.

Hearing that question Lia chuckled:” No.”

“Sad.”, she pouted, closing her eyes for dramatic effect, wishing you’d somehow disappear like you did in the past.

No complaining about her change since you were gone, no one saying that the fame did change her character not for the better, but for the worse.

Wasn’t the England captain so much happier now? Or did the ACL injury made her slow down again to be in the here and now, forcing her to be more selective of the time she had. If you had stayed with her longer, you’d have witnessed it firsthand. The only thing Leah was certain of was that you were the reason her thoughts were running wild.

Clearing her throat the Arsenal midfielder innocently suggested:” Maybe just try to be open for the situation.”

“I hate you both so much.”, the defender growled.

Still smiling Lia stated: “No you don’t.”

“What are we eating?”, Leah swiftly changed the topic.

Amused the Swiss woman lifted an eyebrow:” Why? Are you hangry?”

“Yes, I’m indeed very hangry.”, she confirmed.

Her Arsenal teammate couldn’t help but to start laughing about her dramatics: “Typical.”

Leah knew she wasn’t known for her cooking skills, so the blonde offered:” I’ll do the cleaning who’s going to cook?”

“I can cook.”, Mariona volunteered.

“I’ll help you with that, Mario.”, you responded, squeezing her shoulder slightly.  Back in Barcelona the two of you often cooked for your teammates, it was a passion you both shared and over the years you became a good team in the kitchen.

“And Leah and I’ll clean.”, Keira threw in.

As always, when the cooked food was on the table, it was eaten up far too quickly, at least you could see from the satisfied smiles on the faces of your friends that they had enjoyed it and the sight of it was what made you incredibly happy.

When the chatting and laughing was over, you all went to bed. As you closed the door behind you, you realized that you had to share the bedroom with none other than your ex-girlfriend, and to avoid her for a while longer, you stayed in the small bathroom for an extra-long time. 

You took a few deep breaths to brace yourself, watching yourself in the mirror as you did. You then changed into a pair of pyjama pants and an oversized shirt before exiting the bathroom.

Leah was already lying on her side of the bed, one hand on her flat stomach: “God, I’m so full.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes: “You never know when to stop.”

“It was too delicious.”, Leah shrugged, unbothered by the judgemental tone in your voice.

You didn’t feel like discussing with her so you just sighed: “I’m going to bed now.”

Leah watched as you climbed into your side of the kingsize bed and turned off the lights.

“Night.”

Sleep came surprisingly easy as soon as you were cozied up under the warm blanket. That was until someone gently shook you awake a few hours later. You didn’t open your eyes, you only managed to groan and bury yourself deeper into the sheets.

“Hey, I think the heater broke down… It’s s-so cold.”, Leah whispered, her teeth chattering with every other word.

“What?”, you yawned, too sleepy to understand anything she said.

“Can I get under your blanket? It’s freezing?”

Still half asleep, you lifted your blanket to let Leah crawl in. “Fine.”

”Thanks.”

Her shivering body pressed against your side, the two blankets laying in a big pile on top of the two of you. Leah felt so cold next to you that you had to pull her in, willingly sharing your body heat with her. “Come closer.”

The defender wrapped her arms around you, her skin icy against yours: “How is your body so hot?”

“Don’t know. You tell me.”, you grinned with your eyes closed.

Leah snorted about that before turning serious again: “No, really. You’re not getting a cold, are you?”

“Not with you warming me.”, you continued to joke.

“Good because Arsenal needs their captain.”

Finally you turned to your side, directly facing her: “Oh, so you should survive and I can freeze to death?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Just that we both can’t get sick right now.”

You nodded slightly: ”Okay, that’s fair.”

The winter break would end soon and neither of you wanted to miss out on training.

You both went quiet for a short moment.

“I saw that… you played a great Champions League campaign so far.”, Leah suddenly admitted quietly into the dark.

You took those words in, unsure what to do with them.

“Are you saying you still watch my games?”

“Sometimes I do.”, she confessed quietly. But the blonde didn't add, because of Keira or Ellie, so you wondered if that included you.

However, you were too afraid to ask her about it and instead teased her about her beloved club: “ I couldn’t get myself to watch Arsenal this season, the beginning of their WSL campaign was so depressing.”

“Excuse me?”, she huffed, her figure looming over you.

Amused, you stifle a smile, it was very easy to wind her up: “Yeah, okay, Keira told me it got better after your female coach took over.”

“Yes, it did.”, Leah confirmed matter-of-factly.  

Even though you could feel her intense gaze on you, you began to feel sleepy: “That’s great for you, you must be very happy right now.”

“Sure, believe that.”, the defender smiled sadly, which you didn’t see anymore because your eyes were already closed.

You slipped softly into sleep.

The next morning, Ana tugged gently on her friend's upper arm:” Come on, Kei. We shouldn't wake them up yet, they look so cosy.”

“Look at how tight Leah is holding on to her. She was totally lying about having no feelings for her anymore.”, the midfielder observed.

Her girlfriend continued:” And the one who’s laying in her arms hasn’t let go off their shared past either otherwise she wouldn’t keep videos with Leah on her phone.”  

“Let them sleep. Let’s go and make breakfast.”, Lia spoke up.

Glancing at the Swiss Woman Mariona’s face lit up while she talked: “I could really need a coffee or two to be fair.”

“Me too.”, Keira replied.

The Spaniard cheerfully concluded: “Time to get the coffee machine going then.”

“On it.”, Lia answered in a good mood.

The smell of ground coffee beans and the golden rays of the sun touching your face and hers woke you both up.

“It smells of coffee.”, you mumbled happily.

Leah shook her head in amusement: “I hope they made some tea as well.”

“Ugh, I’ll never understand how anyone can hate coffee.”, you remarked.

She immediately countered:” And I will never fall victim to the coffee addiction that you all obviously suffer from.”

The two of you made their way to the open kitchen, where your friends were already there. Their faces were illuminated by the morning light, an open window was letting in some fresh mountain air while they were almost done with preparing the breakfast for an adventurous day ahead.

“Good morning, girls.”, the Arsenal captain greeted them smiling, hugging Lia from behind.

The brunette returned her grin:” Morning. I guess that means no coffee for you?”

“Oh, yes is that tea for me?”, she hummed delighted.

“Yes.”, Mariona confirmed as she pushed the steaming mug towards the blonde defender.

Leah took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the tea before she wrapped her hands around it: “Amazing.”

“You’re welcome.”

After taking a sip from her steaming hot drink, Leah looked at the group in front of her: “So what are we doing on our first full day here?”

“Skiing!”, Laura beamed at her.

You saw Keiras eyes widen nervously in the background, and you had to stop yourself from laughing.

“Yes, it’ll be so fun. For the ones who don’t know how to do that we have sledges.”, Lia explained patiently.

You knew exactly what that meant. Laura, Lia and Ana would enjoy their time on the ski slopes while the rest of you were stuck with sledges.

Leah didn’t seem too excited about that plan: “Just great.”

To lighten the mood and to spite Leah, you asked the group: “Sledge race anyone?”

“I’m in!”, Mariona nodded quickly.

Leah rolled her eyes which usually would have offended you if it weren’t for the way the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile: “Such children.”

Mariona and you got up from the table, ready to get dressed for a day in the snow.

In the meantime, Lia leaned over to her teammate and whispered: “You should talk with one of those children later if you ask me.”

“Shut it, Lia.”, the defender replied.

“No, deep down you know I’m right.”

“No.”

“Yes.”, Keira finally said, raising on eyebrow at her best friend.

“Guys.”, Leah sighed with a pleading tone which was deliberately ignored by her friends.

“Just trust us, Lee.”

“No.”

This time it was Keira who sighed with frustration: “I wish you two weren’t as stubborn.”

“We’re not.”, Leah said cooly and got up from the table, ending the conversation abruptly.

No one said anything about it for the rest of the day. You were too busy playing in the snow. The sledge racing quickly turned into a snowball fight which then turned into you all trying to build a snowman together until the sun set.

Your face and hands still felt frozen when you returned to your bedroom in the cabin. With a tired but satisfied sigh, you let yourself fall onto the bed.

“You look pretty done.”, Leah smirked as she pulled her cold, wet sweater off of her body.

You tried your best not to look so you stared at the ceiling: “In my defense, it was a long day and my manager just called to tell me that I have to leave early tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving again?”

You frowned. Was there actually a slight hint of disappointment in your exes’ voice?

You must have imagined that.

“Yeah… I have to go.”, you confirmed.

“Oh.”, she sounded disappointed.

You suspected with a heavy heart: “I bet you’ll be happy to have one day without me.”

Much to your both surprise the blonde revealed: “Actually I was just getting used to you.”

“Used to me?”, you repeated, puzzled.

The England captain shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly:” Yeah. You’re less annoying than I remember.”

“Excuse me? You’re way more annoying than me.”, you quickly corrected her. In a serious tone you reminded your former girlfriend:” You were the one who had to attend every event, take each interview, miss out on date nights and our friends’ parties.”

As she listened to your accusations, Leah wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “Because I had to, not because I wanted to.”, the defender clarified earnestly.

You remembered loudly, the memories of your breakup returning to you in waves:” You didn’t even cry when I left.”

“What would that have changed?”, your ex-girlfriend asked.

Your voice trembled with both anger and sadness: “It would have shown that you cared about us!”  

“I did care!”, Leah hissed back.

You snorted in disbelief: “Sure, Leah.”

“Okay, fine. Believe whatever you want, you’re gone tomorrow anyway.”, she waved it off.

“You were serious.”, you realized.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips: “Of course I was.”

“Do you think we were together at the wrong time and place?”, you questioned cautiously.

The Arsenal player took the time to think thoroughly about your question before replying: “Maybe we were.”

“Who knows, right?”

“Not us. If we could just go back in time.”, Leah begun with a longing expression on her face.

You promptly interrupted her:” But we can’t. It’s impossible until time travel is possible.”

“Obviously.”, she said annoyed.

“Don’t eye roll at me, Leah Catherine.”, you warned her with a half-crooked smile on your lips.

The defender cheekily raised an eyebrow: “Or what?”

“Or I’m afraid I’ll have to shut you up somehow.”, you explained.

Leah nervously ran her hand through her loose hair, which shone silvery in the moonlight. “Somehow? You used to do that by..”, the blonde reminisced.

“Kissing you, yes.”, you ended the sentence for her. The air was full of anticipation.

She moistened her dry lips: “You’re not trying to do that, right?”

“What if I did?”, you boldly posed.

“But what about tomorrow?”, the defender pointed out.

You returned her gaze with the same intensity: “I told you I’ll leave.”

“We shouldn’t waste more time then.”, Leah decided, her face only centimetres from yours.

Before you could reply, her lips were on yours. Your heart skipped a beat and for a moment it almost felt like nothing had changed since the last time she had kissed you like that. Your brain went to autopilot, your body took over. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you pulled her closer. Your kisses grew hungrier, more impatient. Despite the knowledge that she was your ex, your body ached for her. You wanted her right then and there.

Apparently, Leah felt the same way when she pushed you back on your shared better, her lips never leaving yours. It was almost muscle memory how your hands slid under her sweater, caressing the body that you knew so well. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it.

The next morning, you stayed in bed as long as possible, sneaking kisses and holding hands on your way downstairs for breakfast. Before you entered the kitchen, you kissed Leah one last time on bottom step. Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched through the ajar kitchen door.

“Girls, look!”, Ana said from her seat on the kitchen table.

“What?”, Lia asked as she appeared in the open door, leaving the scrambled eggs unattended on the stove.

Keira pushed the other midfielder aside so she could see what was going on: “Didn’t she want to leave already?”

“I heard her call her management this morning to tell them we were still snowed in.”, Mariona explained, smiling knowingly into her coffee.

This caused a few gasps in the kitchen.

Only then you realized that you were being watched. You didn’t mind, you already knew that this was their plan all along.

Nobody said anything when you sat down at the table, they were trying their best to act casual and went on to prepare breakfast. You subtly reached for Leahs hand under the table. She smiled at you but your attention was directed towards the snowflakes drifting past the window.

A big part of you was hoping that your lie turned into reality, that the snowfall would be getting worse and you would have a few more days here.

But for now, you were comforted by the thought that you had your Leah back.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/tracksuitlesbian/769781520922755072?source=share

[venusswhite]

A Thousand Years | Arcane Vi x Fem Leitora (Part. 5)

After losing everything, [Name] tries to rebuild her life. But what happens when a ghost with pink hair returns?

notes: English is not my first language, and I initially wrote this fanfic in Portuguese. With the help of online resources, I rewrote it in English.

Part. 4

"they mistook my kindness for weakness" - Lana Del Rey

We stayed there for a while, holding each other, pretending everything was fine. I feel her warmth, the beats of her heart, her scent, the sensation of her clothes against my skin… all of it was comforting. It was like being a child again, as if nothing bad had ever happened.

“I need to go find Jinx,” I whisper against her chest, breaking the silence.

“I’ll go with you,” she says determinedly.

“No, Vi. It’s better if you don’t,” I pull away, looking into her blue eyes.

“Why not?” she asks, cupping my cheeks and tracing every spot and mark on my face with her fingers.

“She’s my sister,” she insists.

“I know, but she’s not the same. Just… let me talk to her first,” I place my hands over hers, leaning in until our foreheads touch.

She sighs and closes her eyes for a few seconds. Then, she opens them and nods.

“Alright. I just want the two of you back,” she steps back and kisses my forehead.

“I promise I’ll do my best to get a little bit of what we had.”

She smiles.

“I know you will. And so will I, I promise.”

I stop in front of Silco’s office, take a deep breath, and open the door, walking in with heavy steps. He’s sitting there, staring at the large round window behind him, drinking—probably something alcoholic.

“Guess what,” I say, pulling him from his thoughts. He turns to face me and huffs, probably already knowing what I’m about to say. “I never believed in ghosts, but today I saw one.”

“[Name]…” he begins.

“Shut up,” I shout. “You had no right to lie to me and drag Jinx into this mess.”

“I did it to protect you both,” he argues firmly.

“No. You did it because you knew I’d never help you if I knew Violet was alive. You manipulated me and used Jinx to help you.”

“And if you had known? What would you have done? Gone after her?” he stands and sets his glass on the table. “You were a defenseless child. Have you thought about what could’ve happened to you… to both of you if I hadn’t helped?”

“I would’ve figured it out…” I reply, defeated. He was right—what would I have done? I didn’t even know where Vi was, and even if I did, how could I have gotten her out of prison? The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.

“Would you? Are you sure?” he raises his eyebrows.

“That doesn’t give you the right to hide it from me,” I yell, slamming my hands on the desk to get closer to him.

“No. It doesn’t. But it was the best choice. And I didn’t know she was in Stillwater. Marcus didn’t tell me that.”

“That bastard,” I yell again. “This is all his fault,” I slam my hands on the desk again, then grab his glass and smash it on the floor. It shatters, shards flying everywhere. I collapse into the chair and bury my face in my hands.

“So… you went to see her, didn’t you?” he breaks the silence, sitting back down.

“Got your men watching me?” I lift my head, then take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Yes, I went.”

“And?”

“And what?” I snap.

“How was it?” he asks, folding his hands in his lap.

I fall silent, thinking about everything I felt when I saw her. The way my heart raced, the overwhelming joy that hit me, but also the doubt and uncertainty. Seeing her grown face after all these years, hearing her voice again, smelling her scent, feeling her touch—it all awakened something in me. It brought back long-dormant emotions.

“It was… intense. Like I was dreaming.”

“That’s why I hid it all from you,” I frown at him. “Love makes you weak.”

“You’re wrong,” I stand again, anger surging back through me. “Her return only made me stronger, more determined to get what I’ve always wanted.”

“Oh, really?” he says mockingly. “And what have you always wanted?”

“A better Zaun. An independent Zaun. The Zaun Vander wanted and fought for,” I stare into his eyes. “And I’ll fight for it.”

I leave the room, slamming the door behind me, not waiting to hear his response.

“Jinx?” I step into her ‘room.’ She’s working on her weapon with loud music playing, humming, and dancing.

“That’s me,” she says cheerfully, turning to look at me. She leans over to turn down the music coming from somewhere under the table, then focuses back on her weapon.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” she asks, still humming her tune.

“Silco.”

She stops and looks at me again.

“How did your talk with Vi go?” her expression shifts from cheerful to disdainful.

“She’s back for us, Jinx. The Enforcer,” she flinches, “got Vi out of prison, as you already know. Vi trusts her.”

“Why would she help someone from the Lanes?”

“I don’t know yet, but it doesn’t matter. Now we can fight, we can continue what Vander wanted.”

“You want to betray Silco?” she concludes angrily.

“I know he’s done a lot for us, but at what cost? Look at what Zaun has become.”

She pauses to think and then goes back to working on her weapon.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Make a deal between Zaun and Piltover.”

“Just like that?” she mocks.

“No. That’s just the end goal. We still have a long way to go. We could use the Enforcer for the deal.”

“Use her as a hostage?” she laughs.

“No! I think she has some influence topside.”

“A Piltie helping Lanesfolk—you used to be smarter,” she picks up a piece from the floor.

“Vi says we can trust her, so I trust her.”

“I still don’t trust her, but I’ll give you a chance,” she walks over to me. “But I won’t betray Silco.”

“Jinx…”

“We owe him, [Name]. Vi needs to prove she won’t disappear again, and you need to prove you won’t abandon me to be with her. But don’t worry, I won’t tell Silco about your plan.”

“Thank you. I’ll fix everything, I promise,” I hug her. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

I open a small pouch on my belt and pull out the blue orb I picked up during the fight, handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she smiles and goes back to her weapon.

After the conversation with Jinx, I went to my room. My mind was racing. Uncertainty, fear, and doubts surrounded me, but I wanted my family back more than anything. I wanted at least a piece of what we had.

“You got Silco worried,” I jump and sit up, seeing Sevika standing in the corner.

“How long have you been there?”

“Not long… So, what’s your plan?” she asks, walking toward me.

“Plan?” I pretend not to understand.

“Silco said you talked about fighting for what Vander wanted,” she says and sits at the foot of my bed.

“Is he afraid I’ll betray him?”

“You could say that.”

“I only agreed to work with him because of Jinx. I never agreed with anything he did.”

“I know that, but don’t be stupid. He’s stronger than you.”

“I know. I won’t act without a plan.”

“You’re lucky I’ve grown fond of you, kid. I’ll talk to him, try to convince him you’re not going to betray him, but know this—if he finds out, things will get ugly.”

“He won’t find out.”

“You’d better hope he doesn’t.”

“Did you know Vi was alive?”

“No, but I suspected. She came after me, wanting to know where her sister was. The girl’s grown up…” she shows her damaged robotic arm.

“She’s tough, huh?” I smile.

“She is,” she sighs. “Take it slow with everything, alright? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Thanks, Sevi,” I hug her. “I like it when you act like a mom.”

“Go to sleep,” she stands up and pushes me back onto the bed. She leaves, closing the door. I smile, seeing a small smile on her lips.

With Jinx and Sevika’s help, Silco believed I wouldn’t betray him. I kept doing what I always did: monitoring Silco’s illegal operations, collecting money from the addicts, checking shipments coming in from Piltover…

I was also trying to meet with Vi as little as possible. Silco was on her tail, so she was hiding out with the Firelights.

The few times we did meet were to discuss our plan, which was to take down Silco and all shimmer production, gain the support of the people of Zaun, and then strike a deal with Piltover. We planned to catch Silco alone and unprotected, but killing him would cause problems with Jinx.

We didn’t know what to do.

We couldn’t take control of the Lanes with him around, but we also didn’t want to lose Jinx’s trust.

We were lost, unsure of what decision to make.

[emotionalhottiee]

Whole Again ❤️

Jimmy Uso/ Jonathan Fatu

This is the conclusion to Broken

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise stated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events in this fanfic are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Warning: 18+ (This content may include explicit material).

Before i knew it we were back at Jon’s condo. And ever since we stepped out of his car, we have been inseparable. Our lips only coming apart to press elevator buttons and open doors. I know that this sounds crazy… But i feel whole again now that we are together. He was made for me.

We reached his door FINALLY. Our lips came undone to allow Jon to unlock his door. He seemed as if he was a bit nervous the way he was fumbling with his keys. It was honestly so cute to watch.

As he held the door open, i walked over towards his leather couch. As much as i missed him, there needed to be a conversation.

Jon was standing by his front door messing with something before he made his way over to the couch. Walking right in front of me, he bent down so he was literally hovering over me. He leaned forward to kiss me again, but i put my hand up abruptly stopping his lips from touching mine. A confused look arose of his face as he moved over to the right of me sitting on the couch, but turning his body so that he was facing me. “We need to have a conversation about the infidelity before we can just move on as if nothing happened.” I stated calmly. Trying my best to get through what was going to be an emotional talk.

You can do this.

“I hadn’t imagined being able to forgive you. Because watching you fuck someone else, in the same bed you fuck me. That killed me inside Jon”. I murmured avoiding eye contact. “And then where’d you go? Chasing a new piece of ass, instead of calling me”. “Your future wife” i threw my hands up doing a very aggressive air quote. Because that is what he always called me. “You cheated and then you moved on as if i meant nothing to you.”

I came undone. As much as i tried to hold back the tears, but they couldn’t be contained any longer as they were steadily falling down my face.

No longer being able to avoid eye contact Jon placed his fingers gently under my chin, lifting my head up until i our eyes met for the umpteenth time tonight. “What happened with that girl meant nothing to me”. My heart was pounding out of my chest. “I made a mistake that i have regretted ever since” he stated his eyes looked past all of my tears, deep into my soul. Sending a wave of chills down my spine.

It is insane how this man, can make me want to apologize to him for the things he did wrong.

I hate to admit that he had the kind of power over me. But he simply did. And then came those words that i had longed to genuinely hear for 5 agonizing days. “I’m Sorry”. He stated his voice deep, but soft for me. He kept lookin into my eyes, pleading to me without saying another word. Crazy how two little words can mean so much. Causing you to forgive even the most hurtful things imaginable. With a simple apology. The pain and hurt and betrayal i had been feeling for the last 5 days, slowly started to vanish.

God i hate how much i love this man.

But he is my true weakness. How can i stay angry at the person, who brings me so much happiness? Why would i? Life is all about forgiveness right? Aren’t you supposed to forgive those who hurt you?

Throughout my internal conflict Jon never took his brown eyes off of me. I saw all the sincerity i needed to see in those eyes. He reached his finger up to my eyes wiping the last of my tears. Before returning his gaze to mine. “I never meant to hurt you Kenzi. I promise it was a terrible mistake that will never happen again”. He said lovingly while he pressed his forehead against mine.

Bringing my hand up to his beard in awe of those facial features that adorned his face. “I forgive you Jonathan” i said calmly again, because i genuinely did. Nobody will understand why it is so easy for me to forgive this man. And it’s simply because i need this man perhaps more than i need my own supply of oxygen. As unhealthy as that sounds my obsession with him is truly that deep.

We exchanged a few more passionate kisses. Whispering sweet nothings to each other in between. As Jon got off the couch first. His towering 6’3 frame bending down in front of me once again. But this time he was scooping me up into his arms as if it were nothing. Our faces coming back together as he carried me into his bedroom, with my legs wrapped around his waist.

I noticed the brand new bed set on his king sized bed. And a small smile crept up on my face. “Im glad he changed the sheets”, i thought to myself relived that he didn’t have those same sheets from his past transgressions.

He laid me down on the king sized bed and he placed a trail of kisses from my cheeks down to my neck. “I love you so much, little mama” he whispered into my neck know that would send me into a frenzy. “I love you too baby” i whimpered back softly. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he took his large hand gliding it down my body, until he came in contact with my the silver button of my boyfriend jeans.

Sitting up on his knees, he freed up his other hand to slide my jeans down to my ankles, before tugging them off of my body completely. He did the same with my crop top shirt freeing my bra-less boobs from them. I sat myself up on my elbows to watch him. As he stared at my almost naked body, biting down on his bottom lip allowing me to only see the top row of his pearly white teeth. Rubbing his hand over my Fenty boy shorts he smirked feeling the wetness he had cause through my panties. “You missed Daddy didn’t you?” He asked his smirk never leaving his face. All i could do was nod my head, as he inserted his middle finger into my center. I let out a whimpering moan. As he knelt down only nesting his face in my neck to slowly pick up the pace. “FUCK” i let out as my hands tried holding on to the sheets. He placed kisses on my neck knowing his was going to insert another finger. I squeezed my self ever so tightly feeling the added finger. He kept a steady pace as he bought his face up to mine. Telling me he loved me before placing a kiss on my lips.

He knows what he’s doing to me.

I let out a barrage of my moans, as i came on his fingers. He just looked at me grinning from ear to ear. As he pulled out his fingers now covered in my juices. He stood up from the bed, stripping himself of his clothes until he was left in only his boxers. He came back down to me kissing me as he slowly pushed my body flat onto the bed. Planting a trail of kisses as he made his way down to my thighs.

He was unusually quiet, which to me was a sign he was focused. He finally removed my panties after what felt like an eternity. Coming face to face with the pussy that belonged to him. He kissed me on the insides of each thigh before he kissed my vagina. My hands found their way to his hair that was brushed into a bun. Taking out the rubber band that kept it together, so that i could run my fingers through his beautiful curls.

He made out passionately with my vagina, moving back and forth between my opening and clit never missing a beat. At this point my hands embedded in his curly hair pushing his face into my glistening pearl, as i did that Jon took it as a sign to insert his tongue into me. Bringing one hand up message my clit while sliding his tongue in and out of me. feeling me near the edge. He removed his finger from my clit, going back to using only his mouth. He moaned into my pussy instructing for me to cum for his and i gladly obliged.

Making sure to clean me up, with his with tongue, he bought his face back to mine. Kissing me passionately with what was left of my juices that remained on his lips. He slowly rose back to his knees, then off of the bed to his feet to remove his final article of clothing, his boxers. Freeing that big beautiful brown dick of his that was swinging back and forth.

He climbed back in bed, coming down to me, until i felt his entire frame over me. Kissing me once more. All this passion he was giving me had made my knees weaken. He looked me in my eyes in between kisses as he inserted his fully erect penis into me. Both of us letting out of moan of pleasure. Him from feeling my warmth tighten around him. And mine from feeling the dick that i was in love with, enter me again after what felt like forever. I bought my legs up to wrap around his waist as my arms wrapped around his neck. As he feed my pussy stroke after stroke. I dug my nails into his skin as he move one arm to separate my leg slightly allowing him to dig his deepest so that his dick could kiss my cervix.

Trying not to make him bleed from my scratching i opted to move my hand back to his luscious curls, that were now all over the place. While my hands were roaming through his hair he placed his forehead against mine. Signaling to me that he was inching closer to a finish. As was i. He whispered another sweet apology followed by him confessing his love for me again.

Locking our eyes together again. Was enough for me to release all over his member as he groaned against my lips. Waiting for me to ride the last wave of my orgasm. He released his load inside of me mixing all of our juices together inside of me. While getting out his final strokes. He laid on top of me trying to catch his breath. I slightly turned my head towards his as i ran my fingers across his soft back.

He planted a soft kiss on my lips as he rolled off me. I took this as an opportunity to go to the bathroom and get myself together. Before finding one of Jon’s large tshirts to put over my naked body. Laying back in bed, he pulled me to him so that we were skin to skin leaving absolutely no room in between us. He softly let out one last “I love you little mama”, before shutting his eyes. I stared at him while caressing his face. Simply responding with an “I love you too Jonathan”. He smiled eyes still shut as we held each other before drifting off to sleep.

This is where i belonged.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 98

What’s better than this, girls havin fun by Oxidize

That’s right our final piece in the fanfic marathon is once again from Oxidize! A fact that surprised the fuck out of me when I found it out, given the drastic difference in tone between this and Burning Lungs.

It’s also a Chatfic! Which like, how the fuck do I draw that?? I’ll tell ya! I didn’t! What I actually did was I made art inspired by the fic rather than actually based off of it. Does that sentence make sense? No fucking idea! 

But you all know what this is. It is THE fic, the one that started everything off. Until I found this story my connection was Junkan was thinking it was a no good, toxic as hell ship, but also something that could be pretty funny if you played it as “Junko derails her entire plan because she thinks Mikan is hot.” And when I say prior to this fic I’m talking like, 2017-2018. Since that joke was based on a convo that was had in a server I’m no longer apart of and have no plans of returning too, which I left in 2019. 2019 was a real blank year for me and Junkan from what I remember. 

Anyway, there is just a little build up to this fic, but it isn’t Junkan related so I’ll try to keep it short.

So once upon a time I had just gotten into Danganronpa, conveniently I also discovered AO3, a treasure trove of stories about girls kissing. This was at first used for me to read as much Tokomaru as possible, something which would totally have no massively scaled effects on me as a person such as say, my egg cracking and me realizing I’d be happier as a woman. But we all run out of fics eventually, and it didn’t take many insomnia fueled binge reads of the Tokomaru tag for me to run out of stories. So what did I do? Get addicted to Chat Fics!! What the fuck else would I do, right? I just looked up Danganronpa and Chatfic and went to town, I initially avoided them on my Tokomaru binge because when it comes to ships, I’m pretty much always going to prioritize a fic where they’re the focus rather than a fic where they have like, 5 paragraphs of screentime. I would see a Fic, check the tags to see if it had Tokomaru, and if it didn’t, I moved on. And funny enough given current events, if it had a ship like Junkan, I also skipped forward. Oh how the fucking times change. 

I got addicted to these for like, a month or two I think. I would find one, start reading, and couldn’t fucking stop reading until it was finished. I just loved seeing the stupid antics the different classes would get up to, moreso when they interacted with eachother. I vividly remember laughing my ass off at one storyline where a few of the characters get lost in either an ikea or a costco? Hard to remember but god it was funny. These fics could change tone rapidly, had their own series of tropes and plotlines that’d recur throughout different ones, one fic got really fucking dark out of nowhere and it was jarring as hell, they were amazing. I kinda miss the days when I read them in such excess, I always kind of wanted to make one but also god no I could never.

If there was one perk to these Chatfics, aside from more Tokomaru, it was that it definitely broadened my horizons for what ships I was interested. Prior to this I liked Tenmiko and Tokomaru, that was about it. But through these chatfics I got into stuff like Irumatsu, Celesgiri (Fell off of that though), and most importantly and relevantly, Ikuzono.

So I of course, would eventually go on a quest throughout the Mukuro x Sayaka tag on AO3, sometime during early 2020. And unfortunately that was a significantly rarer pair to find fics for, especially for me at the time who was a lot pickier and only looked for Fluff on most days. 

So of course, I see this fic, and I almost skipped forward when seeing the Junkan Tag. But then I read the rest of the tags, emphasizing that it wasn’t gonna be abusive. So I thought “Fuck it” and went for it.

And thus the second domino fell.

Ironically while reading it I wasn’t focusing on the Ikuzono parts, helped partially by the fact that the relationship wasn’t established yet. But the Junkan? It wasn’t the deepest thing I had ever read at that point. It was like most Chatfics, silly, goofy, probably a little out of character, the usual stuff. But this felt different, it was something I had no experience with, and why would I? Up till now I was under the impression that Junkan was one of the most bottom of the barrel ships available in Danganronpa. Y’know cause I was like, only 2 years past my teens so my brain was still made of soup. 

But this was god damn adorable. Mikan was sweet and adorable, Junko was silly and showed nothing but support and love for Mikan. She calls her a Cinnamon Apple! And the fact that I’ve never stolen that nickname is a fucking crime!

There isn’t really a lot to talk about in terms of what actually happens. Junko does cute stuff with Mikan, Junko dropkicks Hiyoko in the head because she’s bullying Mikan, and Junko gets in detention, resulting in antics. It is just a really cute, pleasant fic that makes me really happy to read.

As you can tell that makes doing art based on this, as chatfics don’t lend themselves super easily to visuals. The best I could do is the aforementioned Junko dropkicking Hiyoko while Mikan watches, but it’s been a few years and I don’t have hatred in my soul for Hiyoko anymore.

So I opted to make something inspired by the vibe of the fic instead! And also add in some 2000s energy! Because I have an obsession with the 2000s aesthetic, and it has as much of a violent grip on me as Junkan. 

To capture that 2000s energy I tried to make this look like an ancient, shitty photo taken off of a flip phone. Cause I love flip phones, and hate Smart Phones. Which is why there’s a third version of this art that was purely an excuse for me to draw a Flip Phone. I don’t care if a chatroom like this realistically wouldn’t exist on them at this point in time, I hate Smartphones and I will be petty about it. 

Adding to the attempt at making the photo feel aged as shit I also tried to recreate the red eye that could be sometimes found in old photos from this era. As for the designs, ya’ll probably noticed by now that I drew Mikan similar to how I did for the Burning Lungs art. That’s because ever since I found out this fic was made by the same author, I’ve just kind of headcanonned that this fic is takes place sometime after where Burning Lungs would have ended, which I assume would have involved the two getting together. 

Now, the keen eyed reader will probably realize that wouldn’t make sense because Mukuro and Sayaka were already together in Burning Lungs. Whereas in this fic they aren’t together at all. And you’re right, that is in fact a big flaw with me considering these to take place in the same timeline.

But also. Look at the past 97 fuckin days. And all the other shit I drew while these were posted. It is safe to assume that when it comes to details that conflict with something I’m really into, I am just a little willing to ignore those details.

So Mikan gets her cute little bandaids, her itchy sweater which I imagine Junko would really enjoy cuddling into by this point, and a small detail that was only noted for a moment during Burning Lungs, but a chipped tooth as well. It was really nice gettin’ to draw this version of the characters again! Even if I still lack a lot to talk about with this piece, I simply hope ya’ll enjoy it!

And with that I think I’ve told all there is to tell in terms of how I got into this ship. Only took me 98 fucking days to explain it all properly, and backwards no less! Almost like this wasn’t thought out super far in advance or something! I feel like I should have more to say here but really, I kinda just, don’t? Hope ya’ll have enjoyed the Fanfic Marathon! As I’ve said before I really wanna show more love to the writing community for Junkan in the future, both for currently available fics, and the fics that have yet to be written! 

For now though, there are only 2 days left. And I have hopefully saved the best for laugh in terms of my own personal contributions. Ya’ll ready for another comic? 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[flowerveil02]

So, what IS Pokemon Reborn: Rainbow?

I'm glad you asked, anon! I'll put the answer simple above the cut and explain it in better detail below. Me and @nommyzommy will have a deep dive about Reborn: Rainbow in a later post.

WARNING: THIS IS A VERY LONG POST! You can just stick to the summary if you're not in the mood to read an excerpt as long as the bible!!

Put simply:

Reborn: Rainbow (from here forth called RR in this post) is an AU that combines elements of the white and black routes. It also contains original characters and events, including PULSEs, storyline, and even two entire cities with their own geography!

In detail:

RR mixes our favorite elements from both routes and changes some of them a little more to our preferences. It also allows us more screentime for our favorite characters that were kinda overshadowed or just straight-up put on a bus during the game :P Like Florinia, Serra, and more.

It also has new PULSEs and lore for Eve and the subsect of Team Meteor that creates them. And new lore for Team Meteor in general. Lots of the Alcantaras' history and influence is central to the fanfic.

Now, to begin on the characters: We made new characters (that we'll begin posting soon) and new arcs and designs for our favs! (Those are the RRr designs you've been seeing across our posts.) A lot more characters get to know each other, and the theme of the fanfic is a little bit more,, positive? More friendly? I just like games that are more optimistic! :)

And we've made new plot points and storyline! Like great news for Heather, the deforestation of a lot of the region's routes, and the recurrence of characters that were supposedly gone forever... *cough cough, the Belrose parents and Zina Vanhanen*

We've even made brand new cities and geography for them, too!! (Again, we'll touch up on these in a later post with finished maps and fixed details. Like the Jade Jungle is supposed to be bigger, etc.) First is Aquamarine City on Turquoise Island!

The Turquoise Islands have a tropical climate and are located in the Azurine Lake just under Reborn City. The island and city, Aquamarine City, are largely based on Florida and California. It and Coral Ward are conneceted by a large bridge that crosses the Azurine Lake. The surrounding geography includes jungles, beaches, coves, and mountains! It also has a string of small uninhabited islands called the Scallop Isands and a world-renowned tourist attraction called Draconite Isle, which features a dangerous temple that reportedly withholds treasures!

Second is Flinthearth Town!

The climate in the Flint Forest is humid temperate with hot summers and cold winters. Being located just south of Spinel Town, the area and town draw inspiration mostly from Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, and Texas. Many trains connect it to other territories of the region, including Spinel. The geography of the area is comprised of forests, mountains, lakes, and terraces. Their greatest attractions are the annual Flinthearth Fair (mirroring the Lincoln County Fair among other county fairs) and the abandoned (and reportedly haunted!) Alabaster Castle!

Shout out to @nommyzommy for her wonderful artwork on the maps! Expect to see refined future references for the areas on her page!

Thank you so so so much for asking!!! We'll begin posting about RR more in future updates! It makes me so happy to answer questions like this! And sorry for the longass post :P

Thanks for the ask, and stay groovy! <3

[itsmuffiiee]

What are your favorite DCA fics? Some of mine are Solar Lunacy, LDR, and Sleuth Jesters! :D

OKAY!! so I don’t think I have a favorite? I have fanfics I’m currently excited to see update though!! (Which is.. almost every fic I read but I’ll try to include some I’m ESPECIALLY excited about!!)

Enjoy some silly notes about each Fic Below!! ・・・★

Flaring Rays and Ivory Crescents

By @surrealkunstlerin

- Moon has a silly stupid laugh but let him have it..! he deserves it!

- How y/n spending isn’t giving them anxiety is beyond me- I think you gotta trust the robots to be financially intelligent

- I would just sort of lay in moons arm all day before they both got mad at me for not doing anything 😞

- Self indulgent.. my dream: sun and moon would be helpers that help me live a better life )::

Red sky

By Kettle_fish

- “I want two boyfriends, and I want by boyfriends to be boyfriends”

- 257k my beloved

- I really enjoyed the moments of y/n bonding with sun and moon in the cell ::3c

An Introvert Meets the Devil at the End of the World

By Kassykins

- post apocalyptic time!!

- sun is so traumatized

- Should of listended to y/n smh

- interactions between the bots and y/n … 12/10… the other humans though make me question humanity- I think however that’s is the point to be off put and disgusted by them

- I enjoy moon protecting y/n as their source of life and is trying to get sun not to FUCK IT UP

He’s a little confused but he got the spirit

By @midnight-mourning

- I can’t wait to see sun stare in the mirror and realize “oh god, I like them, oh god, oh no.. THAT THING IS WHAT I FALL FOR? You got to be kidding me!!”

- The Sun is burning out and is stressed )::

- Beloved moon in this fic, I hope he gets everything he wants and more

- Fanart MIGHT be in progress.. I am excited to draw these goobers

There Are Many Benefits (To Rethinking This Career Path)

By @moonliched

- Nessa x Chica was not on my 2024 bingo

- I need to see sun and moon get jealous more often

- Author please, please, let them have a sleep over someway somehow

- “I need to go into the ocean, I need to be in there” - y/n probably

- the little extra bits at the end of each chapter DO make me smile and brighten up my day immensely

If ongoing fics aren’t your style !! And you prefer completed stories I also have: Claw at the Stars by @vivisols !!

- NON HUMAN Y/N BELOVED !!

- more mermaids.. ::3

- I love all their fics sm.. ‹𝟹

> I have so many more fics to share (to ramble about).. so..so many but I’ll leave it here for now!! Thank you for asking!! Please be mindful of tags before reading! ::)

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

BUT WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERES NOT A LUMITY COMPETITIVE FIGURE SKATING AU?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN AO3!!

A CRIME. (/j)

I NEED AN ELABORATE RIVALS TO LOVERS STORY ABOUT THAT. I DO.

rich kid amity following her passion despite the disapproval of her family and luz whos self taught and born into trying to carry on the dream her parents failed to achieve. and then them being forced to work together in like duos despite hating one another. YOU DONT UNDERSTAND.

THERE COULD BE FAKE DATING TOO!!

I HAVE A VISION, BUT I NEED TO NOT START MORE AUS FFS.

ANYWAY.

lumity figure skating au when. WHEN??? 😭

[no-context-nonsense]

Pretend like it’s Saturday still. Why didn’t I post yesterday? Oh you know… I spent half the day crying and didn’t make the graphic. 😂

[dizzybevvie]

For the choose violence ask game, would you mind doing 3 and/or 24 for ace attorney or httyd?

AAAA YEASS >:))) HTTYD

3. Worst take you've seen

OH GODDD I. WOW SO MANY. i think the question specifies tumblr but im in a httyd discord server (which is super inactive now but super duper thrived in early 2023) and the amount of strange people in there was wiiild

I remember seeing someone who absolutely HATED Astrid with their whole being, like made an OC to replace her etc etc, but like just COMPLETELY missed the point of her character.

Idk if I ever interacted with them directly but one of the main reasons they hated her is because in HTTYD2 when Hiccup becomes chief she smiles. Baffling. Like, she's obviously very upset Stoick is dead, but she's smiling because she's proud and staying strong for Hiccup. she's not "happy that Hiccup is getting the throne". i remember thinking it was so weird specifically because almost anything negative you can say about Astrid, you can say about Snotlout. but they had no problem with him. figures

24. Topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

oh godddd okay uhhh. i dont super-duper interact with the httyd fandom space outside of tumblr so i dont really knowwww. The Hidden World and the light fury is always crazy but idk.

The Snotcup debate is always fun /sar. I understand that they are not CANONICALLY cousins in the movie series but i truly just cannot see them as anything else theyre so cousins to me. i do NOT like Snotcup even a little bit.

Dagcup too actually? Dagur calling Hiccup "brother" of course but the age difference is the most concerning bit to me LMAO. I'm more of a Riders/Defenders of Berk enjoyer, so in my head theyre like, 15 and 20. not for me. (Although in my experience Dagur fans are often the biggest freaks sorry sorry sorry sorry)

I havent seen bad ship discourse in httyd fandom tbh but im sure it exists especially on twitter 💀.

[desperatecheesecubes]

Every time I see a post making fun of people being afraid to get into comics I think about how when I was first getting into comics I thought it would be fun to read Infinite Crisis because it was a HUGE event and it would give me an idea of what a whole slew of runs and characters were like. I made a post about some panel pretty early into the event (I think it was a build up comic that wasn't even officially part of the Road To Infinite Crisis so EARLY early) and some blog I didn't know made fun of me for not knowing the greater context of the panel I was commenting on. And while I was naively typing up a quick little 'ah sorry I'm new to comics and didn't know that. Thanks for the context!' they had gone through my blog and started doing the same for a bunch of other comics I'd read, and then mocked me for reading IC when I clearly new so little about comics.

Now, obviously, that behavior is ridiculous, and I just blocked them, but it did stick with me. It was one of my earliest interactions with comic fandom and I never forgot it. Most of the people I've intereacted with have been lovely. Even when I have gotten comic cannon wrong corrections are normally very kind. But not all of them are, and the ones who aren't are so vocal about it.

So i actually don't think it's the comics themselves that make getting into comics an unappealing prospect.

[allylikethecat]

K, L, E!!

YES OH MY GOSH HELLO ANON thank you so much for indulging me and sending questions from the Fanfic Ask Meme!! As always, I LOVE chatting about fic (mine and other peoples!) and I get so excited when people send me these! If anyone wants to send anymore, or reblog it themselves, the list can be found HERE.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

This is a hard question because I feel like all of my fics are pretty angst heavy? I know I published it anonymously, but I think Immoral in a Stranger's Lap was probably one of the most painful, especially because it didn't really have a resolution or a happy ending, the same goes for (Sometimes). It's still in the early stages of outlining, (and I'm writing it because I am firmly in the we need more mpreg in this fandom camp) but the Teen Dad Fictional!Matty fic is also shaping up to be pretty angsty - it's looking like it's going to be a split narrative alternating between 16 year old Fictional!Matty dealing with teen pregnancy and present day thirty something year old Fictional!Matty trying to get pregnant on purpose and struggling to do so which I know deals with a lot of really heavy and painful topics.

L: What’s the weirdest AU you’ve ever come up with?

I feel like all of them 😂 But I guess, since it's not really popular in this fandom I'm going to say omegaverse even though it was very common in my other fandom experiences.

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

I'm choosing to talk about Small Bump because I was working on Make Way for Ducklings earlier and clearly have mpreg on the mind. If I were to writing a sequel to that one, it would be dealing with Fictional!Matty's postpartum depression.

Thank you so much for sending these in! Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to send this ask, and for your continued support! I'm really grateful for the people who have not only taken the time to read my fics, but who have also taken the time to engage with me! I really appreciate you! I hope your Wednesday is going well and that you have a great rest of your week!

❤️Ally

[solardrink]

Shoutout to plo koon the only star wars character ever

[madlori]

On being an older fangirl

I was probably 10 years old when I first conceived of what was, looking back, fanfiction. Me and my best friend would lie in bed together on sleepovers and I'd make up stories about what happened after the end of our favorite book, "The Westing Game." She'd ask me for more stories, and I'd tell her more, inventing them as I went along. "Then what?" she'd say.

I was 14 when I went to my first convention. I had discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was 1987, and my youth pastor was a huge Trekkie. He took me to a one-day crappy Creation con, but it was amazing to me. I met Nichelle Nichols. My dad showed me the Trek movies. He and I watched TNG together.

When I went to college in 1991, my dad used to videotape TNG episodes onto VHS tapes and mail them to me, so I could keep watching (I didn't have TV in my dorm room).

By the time I was a senior, we had Trek watching parties in the dorm lounge, where the TV had cable. Star Trek: Voyager had started up, and I wrote a column about it for the college newspaper. I joined a mailing list about it, with people in it that I still know today.

I got my first computer that could go online in 1995. I was on newsgroups. I discovered Doctor Who. I went to Trek conventions where we still passed around fanzines containing fic and art and smutty K/S fan creations.

Then it was Harry Potter. Then there were websites. Then there was Geocities, where we could all make our own little spots. We organized them into webrings. We talked on newsgroups and mailing lists. There were fanfic archives. Then there was fanfiction.net.

Then...there was LiveJournal. And we could interact in entirely new ways. We could form communities, and debate things, and fight over canon, and get into ship wars. On LiveJournal, I met my best friend of 22 years. I was in her wedding. She's my sister of the heart (which is what she calls me).

Then there was Tumblr. And Twitter. And now there's Discord. But it's all the same.

I am the same.

I am still that little girl who made up fanfiction in her head to entertain her best friend. I am still the one who was amazed to find communities on the internet - which was so new, so raw, so uncommodified - where others like me could meet. I found there people to meet in real life.

I am still that twentysomething going to her first major convention, being told that someone loved my fic, being asked about my writing process.

I am still that thirtysomething watching something I wrote blow up. Seeing friends from other fandoms find me in new ones, finding them there, too. Forgetting which fandom I know someone from, because I've known them for twenty years.

I still know some of the people who created those early websites, those mailing lists, those archives. I still meet people in new fandoms who say "Oh, I read your fic in [fandom] fifteen years ago!" There's no feeling quite like having someone remember something you wrote for that long. Or meeting someone whose fic meant a lot to YOU, or who you talked with on rec.arts.drwho.creative in 1997.

Aging in fandom is a gift. Being middle-aged in fandom is a joy. Having people who still read what I write and ask "Then what?" is a blessing.

It breaks my heart that so many people see it as something to be ashamed of, when it is one of my life's greatest gifts.

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

.

[letteredlettered]

feedback and fic in fandom (3 f's of our own)

This conversation about feedback on fic says everything I’ve been wanting to say better than I could say it. But I’ll go ahead and try anyway.

Over the last five years or so there have been some great discussions around the rise of commodification of fanworks and decline of fandom community. This commodification looks a bit like enshittification of the internet: a cool site exists; its popularity makes someone realize they can get money from it; it has more and more ads; the site adds features to drive engagement, including The Algorithm; the things that made the site cool start to fall away. The site exists now as a vehicle purely to get clicks, and the people on it are on it solely to get clicks—to make money, to be successful, for some kind of social cachet.

AO3 doesn’t have advertisements. It’s not making money. But what is happening to fandom is proof of concept that enshittification changes the way we as humans engage. A cool website in 2004 was often a community space where you could meet people, have conversations, find cool things, and make cool things. A cool website in 2024 is either a content farm that will continually feed you enough content to hold your attention, or a social media site where your participation will come with stats to show you whether you are holding the attention of others.

AO3 wasn’t built to be a community space. It doesn’t have great functions for meeting people and having conversations. The idea was that, because fandom community spaces already existed, AO3 would serve the part of that community where you can find the cool things and store the cool things you made. It was meant to be a library in a city, not the whole city itself.

But it was also never meant to be a website in 2024, a content farm constantly generating content solely for your clicks and eyeballs and ad revenue, or a social media site where the content creators themselves vie for your clicks and eyeballs.

The most common talking point when people discuss the enshittification of fandom is the folks out there who are treating AO3 as that first kind of enshittified website: the content farm. This discussion is about how people treat fanfic as a product for consumption.

The post that kicked off the discussion on @sitp-recs’s blog was about someone who wasn’t getting very many kudos or comments on their fic, and was feeling pretty demoralized about it, then joined a discord server and found an entire channel dedicated to people loving their fic. But those on that server had never come to share that love with the author, which the author found really discouraging.

There are more and more stories like this. Someone on tiktok pulls a quote from a fic on AO3 and makes a 10-second video with them staring at a wall, the quote pasted at the bottom, music playing over it. It has 100,000 hearts, and 100 comments with people gushing over the fic, which has 80 kudos on AO3. Overall, people notice more and more hits on their fics, but fewer and fewer comments or even kudos. Fewer and fewer people seem to feel the need to interact with the author, instead treating the fic like a product to be used and discarded—which the enshittified internet (a stunning feature of late-stage capitalism!) encourages. The fandom community is dying, these stories conclude.

I agree. 100%. Both of the stories above have happened to me—viral tiktoks about my fic, secret discord channels to follow and discuss my fic—and let me tell you, it fucking sucks.

But from these observations about fandom enshittification, the discussion continues in a very odd direction. The solution to the death of fandom community is our favorite enshittification buzzword: engagement. We should engage the authors. They’re producing these products for free. We consume them at no cost. We must demonstrate our gratitude by paying them back.

It’s as though the capitalist consumption that the enshittified web encourages is so ingrained within us that we must think in terms of payment, in terms of exchange, transaction. Or as though, by forgoing payment, authors are some kind of martyrs defying capitalism, and the only way to honor their great sacrifice is comments and kudos.

Indeed, the discourse around this sometimes does veer away from capitalist rhetoric into something that smells almost religious in desperation. Authors are gods who bestow us mere mortals with the fruits of their labor benevolently, through love; the least we can do is worship them. Meanwhile the authors adopt the groveling sentiment of starving artists: I produce great art; I only humbly ask that you feed me in return.

These kinds of entreaties make my skin crawl for a number of reasons. I’m not a god. I’m not writing because I love you. I don’t expect your worship or even your praise.

I think the thing that disturbs me the most about it is that it suggests that authors (or, if the OP is feeling generous fan work creators) are the most important people in fandom. I’ve even seen posts stating that without creators, fandom wouldn’t exist—as though readers aren’t just as important. As though conversations where people discuss characterizations and plot points and randomly spin out interpretations and ideas and thoughts related to canon are meaningless. I’ve even seen people scramble to include folks having these discussions as “creators,” as though realizing that these people are necessary and integral to fandom communities but unable to drop the idea that the producers are the ones who are important. As though that person who just lurks can never count.

Is this what community is? When you join the queer community, are you expected to produce a product of your queerness? If not, must you actively participate and give back to the queer community in order to be considered a part of it? Or is it enough that you are queer, that you exist as a queer person and want to be around others who are queer, you want to be a part of something? What is community, anyway?

The problem with people raising the authors above everyone else in the community and demanding that tribute be paid is that they are decrying the “content farm” style of 2024 website out of one side of their mouth, but out of the other side are instead demanding that AO3 become a 2024-style social media website. Authors are influencers. “Engagement” and clicks are the things that really matter. They are in fact suggesting that the way to solve the commodification of fanfic is by “paying authors back” with stats.

Before anyone comes at me with the idea that comments aren’t just “stats,” I will clarify what I mean. There are literally hundreds of posts on tumblr alone claiming that any comment “helps” the author. Someone replies that they are shy to comment. Someone else replies that incoherent keyboard smashes, a single emoji, or the comment “kudos” are all that is required to satisfy the author, all that is required as tribute—all that is required as payment to keep this economy healthy.

I’m not condemning the comments that are keyboard smashes or emojis or a single kind word. I receive them. They make me happy. If anyone wants to leave such a comment on my fics, I’m really grateful for it. But this is not community-building. This is a transaction. In @yiiiiiiiikes25’s excellent response in the post linked at the beginning, they point out that “you have a cool hat” is something that is “perfectly nice” to hear from someone—and it is! We all want to be told we have a cool hat! But as they go on to say, what builds community is interactions that are deep and specific, interactions that are rich in quality, not in quantity. A kudos or a comment that says only ❤️are lovely things to receive, but they don’t build community.

My reaction, when I see people begging for kudos and comments as the only means by which to keep fandom community alive, is very close to @eleadore's. I want to say, “No. Readers do not need to comment or kudos. Believe not these hucksters who claim to know the appropriate method of fandom participation. Participate as you feel able, or not at all; nothing is required of you.”

I’ve been told before (several times) that I’m not qualified to participate in such discussions because I am an established author who has some fics with very high stats. It doesn’t matter that I have also been a new writer with almost no one reading my fics. It doesn’t matter that I still write in new fandoms where no one in that fandom knows me. It doesn’t matter that I, like any human being, still care about receiving recognition and attention and praise.

And maybe that’s correct. I personally don’t think that billionaires have a place in deciding the direction of the economy, and--if we're really going to consider fandom an economy--in fandom terms, if I’m not a billionaire, or even a millionaire, I’m definitely in the infamous “one percent.” So, just as no one wants to hear Elon Musk say “money isn’t everything,” maybe it’s not my place to say “kudos isn’t required, actually.”

That said, I’m not the only one who has a problem with the stats-based discourse around fandom community. However, the main counter-response to this discussion I see goes something like this: you shouldn’t be writing fic for validation. If you’re writing for attention, you’re doing it for the wrong reason. Authors should write fic because they love it without any expectation of return.

This is, in my opinion, missing the point of what is meant by fandom community.

I wrote fanfic before I knew that fanfic, as a concept, existed. I read books; I wanted them to be different; I wrote little stories for myself with new endings, with self-inserts, with cross-overs, with alternate universes. I did it for myself in the 90s. It never occurred to me that anyone else would do this, much less that people would share.

As @faiell points out—creating and sharing are two different things. I created fics for myself, but I decided to share them in the early 2000s because other people might like them, too. And of course, I wanted to hear whether other people liked them. How could I not? I might decorate my home just for me and not for anyone else’s preferences, but when people come over and say my house is nice, how can I not enjoy that? And if a lot of people think my house is nice, which encourages me to post pictures of it online, isn’t it understandable I might do so with the hope that more people will say my house is nice? And, honestly, if no one is appreciating my pictures, I probably won’t continue to go through the trouble of taking them and posting them. I’ll just enjoy my house that I decorated without sharing, the end.

When I found out there were whole fannish communities where people discussed canon and tossed ideas around about it, made theories and prompts and insights into the characters, fics they had written and recs for other fics and analyses of fics and art based on fics and fics based on art—I wanted to be a part of that, too. Now, sometimes, I write fic not out of an internal need to do so but out of a desire to participate in that community.

The idea that we write fic only for the love of it, then post it only because we possess it, is a process entirely centered on the self. It’s fandom in a vacuum. The idea that we share this thing, that we feel pleasure if someone likes it but feel nothing at all if no one says anything about it, that it’s completely okay to be ignored and unseen—that’s not what a community is either. That’s some weird sort of self-aggrandizement through self-effacement—because yes, there is often a weird kind of virtue-signaling in this kind of discourse.

I say this as someone who has virtue-signaled in that way: “some people write for stats, but I write for myself.” It’s bullshit. Sure, I write for myself, but why post it on the internet? Honestly, said virtue has a whiff of the capitalist machine, which would like you to produce for the sake of production, work for the sake of work. The noblest among us expect no recompense for that which they give!

The reason that I’m bringing this back around to capitalism is that capitalism actively works to dismantle community. The reason that folks are out here pleading for “engagement” in order to “pay back” authors for the products they give us “for free” is because people no longer even have the language to discuss how to participate in meaningful community. And frankly, how to build back fandom community, in the face of enshittification, is getting harder and harder to see.

But I do think that if we value fanfic and the fanfic community, it’s really, really not constructive to judge whether someone’s reasons for writing fanfic are valid. It’s also weird to me that it would be considered wrong that someone’s reason for sharing fanfic is because they would like to receive some recognition for it, when in fact that seems to be the most natural reason in the world for sharing something so private and vulnerable with the world.

Let’s go back to that idea of how hurtful it is to find out your fanfic is trending on tiktok without anyone from tiktok saying anything to you about your fic, or how it can be painful to find out there’s a secret discord channel dedicated to your fic. The people who respond to that with, “Ah, but you shouldn’t be writing to get attention!” are missing the point. The fic did get attention. It got lots. Attention obviously wasn't why the writer was writing--they were writing to participate, and they didn't get to. At all.

However, if your conclusion is that the author was upset because these particular stats were not accruing under this author’s profile, thereby preventing them from achieving the vaunted status of BNF and influencer—I don’t know, maybe you’re right. But I don’t think that’s why I, personally, have been hurt by these things, and I doubt it’s what hurt the people in these posts either. They’re hurt because they want to participate, and they have been systematically excluded by the very people they thought were part of the community they thought they could participate in.

Sure, if those folks from tiktok and the discord server all came and showered the author with kudos and comments that said “kudos,” the author might have felt satisfied enough with the quantity of this recognition that they would continue writing. But in the end, this still does nothing to address the problem of fandom community, in which the deep, meaningful recognition, interactions, and relationships in fandom are getting harder and harder to have and to build, as a result of how people now expect to engage in online spaces.

So, how to address the problem of fandom community? You probably read this long, long post hoping that I had an answer, and for that I must apologize. I don’t have solutions. My intent was to be descriptive, rather than prescriptive. I wished to outline the problems that I’m seeing in what was hopefully a slightly new or at least thought-provoking way, rather than offer solutions.

But, now that I’m talking about being prescriptive, maybe I can offer one suggestion, which is—maybe the solution to this isn’t about prescribing behavior. I do understand the irony in writing a prescription saying we shouldn’t prescribe people, but I’m going to write it anyway:

Maybe we shouldn’t be telling anyone the appropriate reasons for writing fanfic or for sharing it. Maybe we shouldn’t be telling readers they need to kudos or need to comment. If we’re going to go pointing fingers, we should be pointing at the institutions of capitalism that have made the internet what it is today—but I don’t think that’s going to solve the problem either.

But I do think that describing this problem, understanding what it actually is, not blaming readers for it and not blaming authors for it—I do think that helps. The discussion I linked at the beginning of this post is what I think of as the fandom I miss, the fandom that's now harder and harder to access, the fandom that is dying. That fandom was a social space where people had opinions and disagreed and went back and forth and gazed at their navels and then talked about Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

In the words of @yiiiiiiiikes25, it was a fuckin’ discussion about hats. And we’re hungry for it.

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.  

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.” 

Please cut your tongue off. 

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?” 

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.” 

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.” 

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours. 

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.” 

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty. 

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism. 

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.” 

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free. 

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots. 

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold. 

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip. 

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.” 

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.” 

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?” 

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.” 

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” 

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his. 

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count. 

“Night-night.” 

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street. 

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair. 

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time. 

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level. 

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show. 

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.” 

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?” 

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.” 

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?” 

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.” 

“I apologize.” 

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?” 

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.” 

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.” 

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?” 

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.” 

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.” 

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure. 

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.” 

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway. 

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans. 

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?” 

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my. 

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.” 

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die. 

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him. 

“No,” he said. 

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?” 

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day. 

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me. 

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant). 

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?” 

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.” 

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.” 

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.” 

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!” 

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?” 

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses. 

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss. 

He surrendered instantly. 

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac. 

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!” 

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again. 

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.” 

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head. 

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.” 

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue. 

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.” 

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.” 

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?” 

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.” 

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt. 

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered. 

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.” 

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.