#im. not making any of this up. im not making ANY of this up and i really wish i was.

[sharlsworld]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆ opposites attract — 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏 ❁

( 𝗈𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂 𝗑 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ）

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗒 𝗈𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗄，𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋

✫ my first oscar smau in honor of the australian gp 🥹

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 1,845,556 others

yn me when the waiter said they don’t offer shirley temples

francolapinto i like shirley temples too…i can make you a shirley temple

⤷ yn i think i’m too young for you

⤷ francolapinto aren’t you 21?

⤷ yn yeah i thought you liked 31 year olds??

⤷ francolapinto OH umm….

⤷ alex_albon Damn she clocked you

⤷ francolapinto OH WHO IS YOU 😒

arthur_leclerc biggie

⤷ charles_leclerc Don’t be rude Arthur

⤷ yn yeah arthur ur just mad i didn’t bring you any food back for you fattie

⤷ arthur_leclerc oh so i get growled at for calling her biggie but she doesn’t for calling me fattie?

⤷ charles_leclerc No you’re older you should know better

⤷ arthur_leclerc i can never win 💔

alexandrasaintmleux my favorite date 🥰🥰

⤷ yn my favorite sugar mama 🙂‍↕️

lilymhe How does one look so pretty whilst doing the most normal things?

leclerc_pascale My beautiful baby girl 😍🥰🥰

⤷ yn love u maman 🩷🩷

lando when are you gonna stop stealing your brothers girlfriend and get your own boyfriend?

⤷ yn whenever i want butt muncher. not like anyone lives up to my standards anyways

⤷ lando i might know someone

⤷ carlossainz55 No

⤷ yn and who would that be

⤷ charles_leclerc stop trying to get my little baby sister to date your gross friends lando

alex_albon why are your last 7 posts pictures of you eating

⤷ yn what is it a crime to enjoy good food now or what??? GOSH JUST SAY YOU HATE ME AND YOU THINK IM UGLY AND WANT ME TO DIE

oscarpiastri I love shirley temples

⤷ arthur_leclerc 🤨 whaddomeanbythat

⤷ oscarpiastri What is it a crime to express my love for shirley temples now or what?

⤷ nicolepiastri I’ve never seen you drink a shirley temple in your entire life

⤷ oscarpiastri Mommmmmmm

⤷ georgerussell63 Shhhhhh little Oscar is finally shooting his shot

⤷ alex_albon With his step auntie?

⤷ georgerussell63 Not now Alex go have Lily read to you or something

🝮

yn

liked by oscarpiastri and 1,717,426 others

yn went to milan for pasta, and to support charles ig, mostly lewis…but not really…i miss carlos. sorry not sorry CHARLOS4LIFE

georgerussell63 Ooh girl you’re radiating black cat energy

⤷ alex_albon I was bouta say

alexandrasaintmleux My babyyy 🥰🥰❤️

⤷ yn my sissy 🥹🩷

carlossainz55 My ride or die 🤞🏽🤞🏽

⤷ yn they could never make me hate you carlos sainz 💙💙 i’m williams’ number 1 fan now

⤷ williamsracing @scuderiaferrari got your girl 🤣

⤷ scuderiaferrari awh HELL NAHH

oscarpiastri Did you get your shirley temple this time?

⤷ yn indeed i did

⤷ oscarpiastri And how was it

⤷ yn i guess it was alright, it could be better

⤷ oscarpiastri I could make you a better one next week in Australia if you like

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait a damn minute

nicolepiastri You beautiful girl

⤷ yn thank you mama piastri 🥰🥰

⤷ pierregasly YOO IS BUG FINALLY GONNA GET HER FIRST BOYFRIEND???

⤷ yn ho did you just…

⤷ pierregasly I apologize but this is so exciting

francisca.cgomes Ooh lala 😍😍😍

lilymhe I miss you queen I’ve actually been having conversations with Alex to pass by time 💔

⤷ alex_albon Oh thats great to hear 🥲

danielricciardo I just know you fcked some pasta UPPPP

⤷ yn yardy know it dan

lewishamilton Thank you?

⤷ yn you’re welcome dafuq

hattiepiastri face card is insane

⤷ yn oh stop it you 🤭

⤷ pierregasly YOOO BUG GOT THE WHOLE FAMILY HYPING HER UP

⤷ yn pierre…

⤷ pierregasly Once again, I apologize I’m just so invested in this I actually can’t help it

charles_leclerc I’m kinda hurt Leo got to go but I had to stay at the hotel…

⤷ yn i didn’t want to turn into the third wheel

⤷ charles_leclerc yeah right i turn into the third wheel whenever you and alex are together

arthur_leclerc the B in bug stands for biggie

⤷ yn i just watched you pound back 5 chocolate croissants in 3 minutes fattass 🤣🤣🤣 try eating a salad for once double wide

⤷ alex_albon DAMNNN SHE CLOCKED YOU TOO

⤷ oscarpiastri No one humbles you like your own sister

⤷ arthur_leclerc oh who is you 😒

⤷ yn shut up porky go scarf down a hamburger or something butterball

⤷ alex_albon clockedddd

⤷ pierregasly Defending Oscar????? Omg I love this so much please please please never stop 🙏🏽

🝮

yn

liked by kendalljenner and 1,063,782 others

yn i’m here australia

pierregasly Everyone shut up my show is on

maxverstappen1 This early? 👀

⤷ yn boi why you stirring the pot 🤨

mclaren papaya on top 🧡

⤷ yn fosho 🧡

arthur_leclerc Put the food away lil bro

⤷ yn eating all this food AND not working out AND i’m STILL skinner than you 🤣🤣 try harder you fuckin loser 🤕

⤷ alex_albon DAMNNNM ik arthur HATES to see bug coming ⏰😭

mercedesamgf1 Pretty gal 🤩🤩🖤

⤷ yn 🖤🙂‍↕️

alexandrasaintmleux And who took this picture cause I know it wasn’t me 🫣

⤷ yn you’re supposed to be on my side

williamsracing 😍😍

⤷ yn 😘😘💙

charles_leclerc Hey why are you there before me??? What are you up to 🤨🤨

charles_leclerc I better not see any pictures or videos of you with a certain aussie on tik tok

lando i spy papaya. and who drives a papaya car? oscar piastri. and where is oscar piastri from? australia. and where are you? australia. THEY’RE DATING GUYS I CRACKED THE CODE!!

⤷ yn onto something or on something??

scuderiaferrari OUR girl 🥰😍😍

⤷ yn 🫣❤️❤️

oscarpiastri Care to join me for a shirley temple later tonight?? :)

⤷ yn sounds lovely ;)

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOOOO :’)

⤷ charles_leclerc WOAH WOAH WOAH OSCAR THAT IS YOUR AUNTIE YOU SICKO

⤷ alex_albon HELL YEAH OSCAR SHOOT YOUR SHOT BRO

⤷ danielricciardo Oscar gettin rizzyyyyy

⤷ lando that’s my boy 🥲 they grow up so fast

f1 collecting f1 teams like infinity stones

🝮

yn

liked by haileybieber and 2,819,164 others

yn what a view

pierregasly YOOOOOOOOOOOOO

arthur_leclerc who dis r

leclerc_pascale So cute mon amour 🥰

⤷ nicolepiastri It was so nice meeting your daughter Pascale! She’s just a ray of sunshine, I’ve never seen Oscar smile so much 😂

⤷ leclerc_pascale Thank you Nicole! Your son is the sweetest he’s been treating y/n so well while she’s been Australia she’s loving it so much over there it’s gonna be hard to get her back home 😂😂 we’ll have to meet up soon!

⤷ nicolepiastri Yes we’ll have to go to lunch with the kids so we can embarrass them with their childhood stories and pictures LOL! 😂

⤷ pierregasly No one knows what this means to me fr

⤷ charles_leclerc YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS MAMAN???? YOU KEPT THIS FROM ME??

⤷ leclerc_pascale Let your sister be happy Charles and be glad she’s talking to a kind man who treats her well instead of one who is mean to her.

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait you lowk right

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait sorry I forgot I was talking to my mother

pierregasly kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ francisca.gomes kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ carmenmmundt kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ georgerussell63 kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ alex_albon kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lilymhe kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ charlotte2304 kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lorenzotl kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ charles_leclerc what the hell it’s not like i can keep you from dating any longer. kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lando KISS DAMN IT

⤷ oscarpiastri Okay

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOO BRUHH I DID THAT

🝮

yn

liked by lewishamilton and 3,371,405 others

yn i love you australia

pierregasly YOOOOOO CALL ME RN OMGGG

⤷ yn pierre…

⤷ pierregasly CALL ME BUG

⤷ yn ok damn

⤷ francisca.cgomes maybe it is a good thing that f1 is back this week…

charles_leclerc ❤️

⤷ pierregasly YOOOO HE GOT THE APPROVAL

nicolepiastri Australia loves you too ;)

⤷ pierregasly yooo 😏🤨

lorenzotl “Australia” sure

⤷ yn 🤫

⤷ pierregasly YOOO

arthur_leclerc at least you’re eating fruit

⤷ yn yeah you should try it once in while fuckin pot belly pig

⤷ alex_albon CLOCKEDDD

⤷ arthur_leclerc Do you really have nothing else better to do?? 😒

⤷ yn DO YOU HAVING NOTHING BETTER TO DO YOU FUCKING LOSER

⤷ alex_albon ⏰⏰⏰

oscarpiastri I love you Monaco

⤷ leclerc_pascale Monaco loves you too ;)

⤷ pierregasly YOOO THIS IS CRAAAZY

⤷ oscarpiastri Do you just constantly refresh instagram to see new comments?

⤷ pierregasly Durrrr

danielricciardo Okay just out here lookin all radiant and shit

lando oi who’s that handsome bloke in the last slide? 😏😏

⤷ yn 8️⃣1️⃣

⤷ pierregasly YOOO QUIT TRYNA BE ALL SNEAKY AND JUST HARD LAUNCH!!!!!!!!!!

⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah guys it’s pretty obvious you two are already dating

⤷ charles_leclerc I mean you started dating a week after meeting but who cares it’s obvious you guys are never breaking up

⤷ yn wow thanks for outing us thick neck bitch

mclaren Welcome to the papaya family! 🧡

⤷ scuderiaferrari Hey that’s our girl

⤷ mercedesamgf1 Guys…cmon…she’s literally obsessed Toto, she’s ours

⤷ williamsracing You’re all fighting for second, we got Carlos so that means we got y/n

⤷ yn ladies ladies there’s enough of me for everyone 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

🝮

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc and 1,407,583 others

oscarpiastri I’ve been taking up photography lately, what do you guys think?

pierregasly YOOOOO BRUHH YOU GUYS ARE LIKE BASICALLY MARRIED NOW

charles_leclerc No funny business 🤨

francisca.cgomes oscar don’t know what to do with allat

⤷ oscarpiastri Trust me, I do

⤷ pierregasly YOOO GETTING FREAKY ON THE MAIN?? OSCAR PIASTRI???? FREAKY?????

lando So you guys basically have me to thank for this whole relationship 🤷‍♂️

yn get my good side 🙂‍↔️

⤷ francisca.cgomes girl every side of you is good 😘

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux So photogenic it makes me mad 😾

⤷ yn you guys literally look like angels all hours of the day

leclerc_pascale Mon petite fille 🩷🩷

danielricciardo I bet Oscar took this picture just to take it like she didn’t even have to ask like he’s just the type of guy to do that

⤷ maxverstappen1 Oscar is the type of guy to see something his girlfriend would like and buy it on the spot

⤷ alex_albon Oscar is the type of guy to take pictures of cute animals and sunsets to send to his gf and be like “thought of you”

⤷ georgerussell63 Oscar is the type of guy to go to the wake up at 3am and make his girl food because she said she was hungry

⤷ pierregasly Yoo my boy Oscar is the type of guy who would let his girlfriend put her feet on his face and be unbothered

⤷ lando oscar is the type of guy who would be to scared to be rough with his girlfriend in bed

⤷ yn you’d be surprised…i know i was

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOOOOOO

⤷ lando oscar you dirty boy 😈😈

⤷ maxverstappen1 Where did polite cat Oscar go?? 🤨

⤷ danielricciardo Oscar you naughty naughty boy what have you been up to this week 😈😈

⤷ oscarpiastri I put my phone down to make y/n a grilled cheese and tomato soup and this is what I come back to?

🝮

yn

liked by leahkateb and 1,938,241 others

yn this is my husband guys we eloped 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

pierregasly YOOO ARE YOU FR????

oscarpiastri We didn’t elope guys we literally just started dating last week

⤷ charles_leclerc The talking stage lasted barely 6 days before he asked her out guys

⤷ leclerc_pascale When you know you know

⤷ nicolepiastri One day he was introducing her to us as his friend a week later he texted the family group chat “we’re dating btw” 😂🩷

oscarpiastri In a few years baby 😂

⤷ pierregasly Yo this got me feeling all giddy and shit 🥹 oh young love

⤷ yn bro’s gonna be 30 next year 😟 old asl you’re gonna get arthritis soon

⤷ georgerussell63 I know Oscar is never bored with bug

⤷ oscarpiastri Definitely keeps me on my toes…don’t be surprised if I start graying in the next few months guys

⤷ leclerc_pascale Mon chou quit giving Oscar such a hard time please

⤷ yn i can’t help it maman it’s just who i am

⤷ oscarpiastri I’ll gladly take worry lines and gray hair as long you’re by my side ❤️

⤷ yn omg stoppp do you like me or something 🙂‍↕️

⤷ oscarpiastri I like you a lot

⤷ oscarpiastri Give her minute she had to step outside to calm down

⤷ yn omg i like you too

⤷ arthur_leclerc they’re commenting all this while sitting by each other btw

charles_leclerc Out of everyone in the world I’m glad you ended up with Oscar because I didn’t think anyone else had the patience to deal with you and your standards other than your own family

⤷ yn ok rude 🖐️ fuck out my face

⤷ oscarpiastri Let’s go get some ice cream and take a walk on the beach honey

⤷ yn comingggg 😋😋😋😋

⤷ danielricciardo And they lived happily ever after

pierregasly yo 🥹❤️

[temiizpalace]

☆┊HEAR ME OUT CAKE

SUMMARY: the first years try out the hear me out cake challenge.. it doesn’t go exactly to plan.

CHARACTERS: first years (-sebek) [mostly jack x reader centered]

GENRE: crackfic

WARNINGS: cursing

NOTES: this was funnier in my head

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

✧˙∘

jack stares at the messily frosted cake on the table.

“so sebek isn’t here.. because?” he asks, glancing at ace. “because sebek is a buzzkill and will probably blab on and on about how we didn’t put his liege on this cake.” ace retorts, adjusting the camera.

“right.. how do we play?” deuce asks, raising a brow. “you basically just state a crush that you have and put their cutout on the cake. we don’t have cutouts, so im not sure why we have a cake..” epel shrugs, glancing at the cake.

“not just any crush! it must be completely ridiculous. that’s the fun in it all.” ace exclaims, his signature smirk discomforting the rest of the group. “ridiculous.. like how?” jack asks.

“just play.” ace huffs, fed up with this game of 20 questions. “i’ll start! judy hopps.” ace grins confidently, crossing his arms while receiving strange looks. “..she’s a rabbit.” deuce frowns, already judging heavily.

“yeah? and jack here is a wolf.” ace retorts, receiving a nasty look from jack. “that’s completely different.”

“whatever, whatever, my turn.” epel snickers, laughing to himself. “barry b. benson.” he cackles, getting even worse looks than ace. “THE BEE?” deuce exclaims, slamming his hands on the table. “isn’t he in a relationship..?” jack adds. “and you guys thought mine was bad?” ace pouts, glancing in their direction.

“that’s the joke! it’s supposed to be absolutely insane, forbidden. what’s the fun in takin’ it seriously if we’re supposed to hear each other out?” epel explains, earning a nod from ace. “..this is stupid.” deuce scowls.

“fine! you’re skipped! jack?” the wolf boy remains silent. “isn’t this.. morally wrong? i mean, you guys are talking about literal animals, married individuals..” he asks, getting a dead stare from ace and epel.

“i forgot he wasn’t just a jock, but a goody goody too.” ace sighs, shaking his head. “i’ll go again!” he chimes, seeming suddenly enthusiastic. leaning on the table, ace stares deuce dead in the eyes. “dilla spade.”

the boy opposite of him flinches, not wasting time to slam the table with more force than he had before. “THATS MY MOM.” he shouts as ace cackles in the background. epel erupted into a fit of laughter, earning a nasty look from deuce. lunging forward, he grabs ace by the collar and is now fully in delinquent mode.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YA, HAH?”

sitting in silence, jack finds himself lost in thought. insane.. ridiculous..

jack sits up, readjusting his position. “[MC].”

the room freezes, exchanging looks with each other before glancing at jack. “..[MC]? like, the prefect [MC]?” epel raises a brow, looking at everyone else in the room. "insane and ridiculous, right?" jack repeats, his expression deadpanned.

deuce lets go of ace's collar and stays silent, unable to find the proper words. "you have no idea how rude your statement sounds right now.." ace sighs, unsure as to what expression he should make.

"jack, please elaborate more on this hear me out.." epel asks, pitting jack as the center of attention.

"how about we never talk about this again." jack grumbles, hiding his face in shame.

looks like they won't be playing this again anytime soon.

A/N: filler fic!11!1!1! sorry for being missing during february, exams are starting again and i really need to prioritize right now. that being said, as an apology for missing valentines, im working on white day fics rn! please enjoy this filler before it finally gets posted!

date published: 03/11/25

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[twistedpink]

I have like an unusual amount of dad!asks in my inbox rn, and they’re all sauve/responsible types, but what about your goofy guys? The ones that complain about “the ol’ ball n chain” at work only hours before worshipping you with a level of husbandry that can only be taught through backbreaking cuddle deprivation?? IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM SHUT UP (reader is implied afab- talk of “your” kids. Maybe he gets pregnant idk)

Husband!Ace HATES doing dishes with every fiber of his being, but he also likes getting fed.. Decisions, decisions,, Very into the “good cop/bad cop” routine. He’s good cop, obviously, but he sucks up after every tantrum you handle with the same puppy eyes he shares with your runt. It’s especially effective after he cuts out alcohol for fear of your kiddie getting high off of more than just life, and he gets hottttttttttt,,, Totally a neighborhood dilf- You’re guarding him like a particularly sexy discount, and he loves it <3 If you have more than one kid he makes a joke of “running out of options”. Naturally, he names the kid after Riddle for the bit. It backfires so completely that everyone’s calling him some kind of angel, and Riddle 1.0 contributes to the fucking college fund. His life couldn’t be worse if he tried.. At least his spouse’s still hot <3

Husband!Ruggie in two words. Grill. dad. And he looks good doing it! He’s literally living the dream,, Stable job, loving marriage, and just enough kids to keep him busy well enough into retirement- If you’re looking for anything productive being done on the weekend, you won’t find it at the Bucchi house. He’s done his time, but he’s always excited to ignore work emails! The fridge is fully stocked, and at your insistence he’s way too involved in HOA politics. The two of you are also totally couple goals- All your friends can agree the Bucchi’s are the people to call for birthdays. The only issue your kids ever have are overeating and toy theft.. Wonder where they got that from? (DAD BOD RUGGIE DAD BOD RUGGIE UGHHHHH)

Husband!Floyd’s just thankful you didn’t accept his proposal in Highschool,, He can admit he wouldn’t have been a good partner then, and that’s okay, because he makes up for it now. He works remote, always snacking and in range of his shrimpy for bad days- Plenty of cuddling, and so much clinging it’s rare to see either of you alone in public. He immediately attaches to your kids the same way- always sleeping in their rooms and kissing on their baby faces,, despite how hard he worked to get the big family he’s wanted, I imagine you probably had to go through IVF or surrogacy for any success on account of biological differences. This really shows in their childhood before it’s safe to take any transformation potions,, It’s torture to just observe the baby from outside their aquarium, but Floyd’s present enough for two until they’re old enough for a whole new world <3

¡Bonus!

Husband!Epel’s the only teenage dad on the list, and you guys got hitched QUICK after meemaw chewed him out for reckless sex- Even if it got her the perfect in-law. Gets all muscular after college, and keeps you whipped with those hip muscles that make a V. Ends up having more little girls than he knows what to do with. They all play winter sports at their dad’s behest, and he damn near shoots any boyfriends on the property. 7/10

Husband!Idia gets to live the housewife dream- Gaming pc next to your work computer, and a full 30 minutes of blissful silence when your little power naps after hours of Daddy plays! and Freakin’ bots!!,, He had to quit swearing when the baby started mumbling less than pg first words, but they fist bump when kiddie can avoid getting grounded by “the final boss”- So all thing’s considered, your player 3’s not so bad after all. (He’s still mourning the loss of his limited edition “Magic Rumimi- Sakura dreamscape” figurine, but give him a couple years and it’ll blow over.) 8/10

Husband!Lilia’s never been able to get this vulnerable with anyone. EVER. He’s working on it with his own kids, but it’s much harder to communicate with a toddler, especially when half-fae aging is SO sporadic. They’ll both have to watch you age, but your light never dims, and he’s getting all the pictures he can! Your baby/ies grow up in a home so full of love it’s embarrassing, and there’s always memories to look back on fondly of time well spent <3 10/10

@bju3c0re @kyokills @rinship

[gamblersdoll]

shiu kong who loves his pretty girl, absolutely adores her— he just.. works a bit more than what he says he does.

“again?” you ask, lying on your back against the plush couch, breasts spilling to the side and you close your legs against his chest. “thats the second time we’ve stopped in the middle of sex just so you can take a call.”

“i know, sweet girl.” he says softly, holding your calve and pressing the end call button. “its work, i have to be there in fifteen minutes.” he sighs, pulling himself away and you feel even more empty. “ill make it up to you—“

“just go.” you scoff, pulling yourself together and trying to bite back tears. you hated this shit, always having to keep your relationship on hold simply because of his work life. you feel your chin get tilted up to the side. “what.”

“i promise, ill make it up to you, doll.” he presses his lips against your neck, the stubble on his lip tickling and poking you. “just let me do the dirty work.”

it feels good in the moment, especially when he says such sweet things and sounds like he means business. until its becoming suffocatingly obvious that he needs help on keeping his words.

“dinner looks great, baby.” you giggle, having his arm wrapped around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “i love it.”

“i knew you would.” he chuckles, lifting your head up to his and pressing a kiss. you wanted to mold to him, but he demanded softly that you did. his bigger hands were squeezing any places they could, sucking the breath out of your lungs and groping your hips—

“shiu, not here..” you whimper quietly, because that grope would be a trigger for you. it triggers carnal desire from both of you, knowing how you are.. messy.

“calm down, doll.” he cooly laughed, “im not going to fuck you here, just let me do what i want— just a little bit..”

you nod, feeling his lips trail down your neck with soft kisses. his fingers slip down to your thigh, gripping the flesh. “shiuu..”

he chuckles, suckling at the soft flesh of your jaw—

until his phone goes off, ringing a bit loud.. which was work. he sighs, he knows youre about to lose your shit. “hold on, baby.” he mumbles, answering and growing agitated. “alright, alright.” he replies, hanging up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “im sorry, doll—“

“just take me home, dont say shit to me.” you growled, folding your arms and holding your tears back. just one night, one night you could have with him and he actually had both feet in the door. it infuriates you, you having to be second to last in his life. you hear him exhale, leaving the bill and then reaching a hand out to walk you out.

you declined.

“yer so messy, tonight. you havent had any in a while, huh?” the black haired man snickers, biting at the back of your neck. “listen to how she mewls to me..” he kisses, holding your hips down and licking at his lips.

“oh shit.. fuuuck!—“ you squeal, head being pushed into the pillows and plowed into. “fuckfuck!—“ you moaned, you were getting too loud. your clit throbs, you were getting so close.. and he kept teasing you about it. he always did, always taking two fingers to your clit and circling your creamy cunny. “gunnacomegunnacome!”

“then come, dont keep me waitin’ .” he chuckles, groaning when he feels you clamp down on him. “there it is, there it is!” his eyes get primal, licking at his teeth.

it all feels like heaven, your body convulsing with overstimulation and you look up , finally from the darkness—

until your blood ran cold, seeing shiu kong sitting on the couch that rested in your room. he pulls the cigarette from his lips, exhaling and a small smile. “you having fun with toji, girly?” he taps his foot, crossing over his legs.

“i—“ you choke on spit, and suddenly moan. “ohh!”

toji grins, pressing his mushroom tip deeper into your cervix. “better answer before i come, too.”

property of gamblersdoll.

[crowwolf]

@vera-king-hrfl - the definition of distraction...

Ok - picture this - tiny 4'11", 90 lbs of elf/fey petite woman who has orc green skin (light), dark green/with lighter green mixed in hair, completely black eyes (sclera, irises), a penchant for large devilkin, sarcasm for days, and a big ass shadow dire wolf.

what will your character be like if they were in your shoes?

They'd be angry all the time...wondering how the fuck they got stuck in my life. She'd hate it.

is your oc the mom friend or the dad or the childish one in their friendgroup ?

HAHAHAHAHA 100% childish, but ready to throw down like a momma bear.

do those "poet, king, soldier" quiz for your oc. im being fr

I used this quiz https://www.quotev.com/quiz/16869551/Soldier-Poet-King/

do the "36 questions to fall in love" quiz as your oc.

A VERY Kitalia response to this would be - not a fucking chance. I had one look at it and my unmedicated ADHD went...uhhhhh....Kit would be the same.

ik your ocs trauma have an impact on their character, but how would they be like, if they hadn't gone through that experience?

It had a massive impact on her entire being. If she hadn't gone through it, she'd probably have been a lawful neutral/neutral good being instead of the complete chaos gremlin she is.

does your oc have similar tastes as you do? (music, art, fashion, coffee/tea etctetc)

Nope! Well, some, but mostly no. She will not ingest any mind altering substances, but she does love a good chai. Her music taste are extremely varied - so that is similar to me. She has zero love of fashion and only dresses fashionable when others make her/ask her nicely lol! Art - meh. She lived history, why would she want to read about it. Speaking of reading, aside from being very intelligent - she never learned to read. Her life was chaos and, even though she a few hundred years old, she focused on language and music and SURVIVING over reading.

will they "i only live once so I'll do it for the plot." or will they "i only live once ffs, i don't wanna die." ?

Kit's more - I'll live a long fucking time and can't die so LET'S DO THIS!

what is your ocs opinion of love? how is/was their love life on a scale of 1-10?

Kitalia loves the idea of love, but has an extremely low opinion of herself, so ends up with a dude who is a mother fucker, until she find the guy that treats her like the princess she is. So her sex life is a 10 - wildly a 10...her love life...eh...3 until princess dude then an 8 (nothing's perfect, except the sex).

will your oc let go of someone precious to them when they know they're putting them at danger?

Always. She would sacrifice herself a million times over to save those she loves and would never let them know because she'd die if something happened to them.

around whom does your oc lets their guard down?

@vera-king-hrfl's Oc Ryldinn in the modern AU. Damays later on, Raphael. In BG3 verse Vera's OC Max the orc!

are they romantically constipated or a hopeless romantic?

She's a bit of both. Can't say the words outright unless it's life or death (nearly), but lavishes the romance on the ones she loves.

what type of music does ur oc like?

All music - she's a bard in BG3 (well part bard) and a DJ in mordern AU - she loves music.

write a lot about your oc if you're struggling to get to know them. find a drabble prompt, and write what they'd do.

uh....not today.

do they trust others easily or do they get trusted by others easily?

Absolutely not. It takes forever for her to trust. She only trust Ryl in modern AU after following him around and learning more about him (much to his surprise). She isn't easily trusted either. Her eyes freak people out.

what is something your oc will never talk to anyone about? (their answer can be deep, like some emo trauma or like smthng like back when they shit their pants or smthng yk)

Her trauma - it started at birth with her mother viciously rejecting her (literally as a newborn), carried on to witnessing the murder of her father and subsequent abduction/enslavement to the murderer. Long life, lots of awful shit.

do they give off golden retriever energy, or a black cat energy? (or both?)

Black cat 100%

what will THEIR opinion be on YOUR current life? will they be ur friend? will they trust you?

They would trust me but only cause my life is such utter banality and chaos that she'd know I'd have nothing to hide or reason to betray her. She'd be that one fun aunt friend.

will your oc survive in a fantasy setting, a war setting, a dystopian setting, a futuristic setting, a medieval setting? will ur oc survive after getting stranded on an island, or a forest?

Kitalia has extremely good survival skills that have been honed for a few centuries of off and on again homelessness. She had to learn to hide extremely well, to the point that even a drow couldn't find her. She a survivor, whether she wants to or not.

does your oc like their parents, do they like how their life is, do they feel like they're born in the right gen?

HATES her mother (to be fair, Mother has tried to kill her). She can't remember her dad, but he was a good man. She's ambivalent about her life. It is what it is.

if they are ever to get one wish definitely granted, what would they wish for?

To no longer be afraid.

how did they react to their first kiss? (if they have had it by now lmao)

wellll...first voluntary kiss - shocked and pleasantly surprised.

what's an ideal day for your oc?

Sitting in a peaceful wood, with Hexxus nearby, her head in the lap of her beloved while being read to. Just at ease and unafraid.

lastly, who does your oc go to when they've fucked up?

In modern AU, Ryldinn or Raphael. In BG3, Max or Astarion cause he can cope with her chaos.

How to get to know your characters better?

(feel free to add your own thoughts to this list, hope it helps!) req by @miricalebabyy44 <3

what will your character be like if they were in your shoes?

is your oc the mom friend or the dad or the childish one in their friendgroup ?

do those "poet, king, soldier" quiz for your oc. im being fr

do the "36 questions to fall in love" quiz as your oc.

ik your ocs trauma have an impact on their character, but how would they be like, if they hadn't gone through that experience?

does your oc have similar tastes as you do? (music, art, fashion, coffee/tea etctetc)

will they "i only live once so I'll do it for the plot." or will they "i only live once ffs, i don't wanna die." ?

what is your ocs opinion of love? how is/was their love life on a scale of 1-10?

will your oc let go of someone precious to them when they know they're putting them at danger?

around whom does your oc lets their guard down?

are they romantically constipated or a hopeless romantic?

what type of music does ur oc like?

write a lot about your oc if you're struggling to get to know them. find a drabble prompt, and write what they'd do.

do they trust others easily or do they get trusted by others easily?

what is something your oc will never talk to anyone about? (their answer can be deep, like some emo trauma or like smthng like back when they shit their pants or smthng yk)

do they give off golden retriever energy, or a black cat energy? (or both?)

what will THEIR opinion be on YOUR current life? will they be ur friend? will they trust you?

will your oc survive in a fantasy setting, a war setting, a dystopian setting, a futuristic setting, a medieval setting? will ur oc survive after getting stranded on an island, or a forest?

does your oc like their parents, do they like how their life is, do they feel like they're born in the right gen?

if they are ever to get one wish definitely granted, what would they wish for?

how did they react to their first kiss? (if they have had it by now lmao)

what's an ideal day for your oc?

lastly, who does your oc go to when they've fucked up?

[mononijikayu]

wildflower— nanami kento.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—” “Do you have any idea how brilliant you are?” His voice was trembling now, thick with emotion. “You were always the smartest person in the room. You deserved to get out of here….to have everything you ever dreamed of. And instead… you stayed. You gave it all up. Why?” Tears burned the back of your eyes. “Because I didn’t have a choice, Kento.” “Yes, you did.” His voice cracked. “You could have told me. You could have called me. I would’ve—” “You would’ve what, Kento?” you choked. “Fixed my life for me? Paid my bills? Dragged me to Tokyo and pretended like I belonged in your world?” His jaw clenched. “You do belong in my world.”

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, use of she/her pronouns, romance, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt, love, fluff, humor, light-hearted, long-term relationship, marriage, loss, emotional distress, hatred, resentment, domestic, confessions, getting together, friends, slice of life, childhood friends, distress, cheating, falling out of love, toxic relationship, drama, depression, bitterness, grief, trauma, pregnancy, explicit birthing scene, illness, post-partum depression, bodily fluids, children, therapy, explicit depiction of birthing, depiction of bodily fluids, depiction of post-partum depression, mention of blood, mention of birthing, mention of bodily fluids, mention of depression, actor! nanami, housewife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 18k words

NOTE: this took a while and im a bit sick all the sudden but i realized i have to put this out so i just decided to go on and post this. anyway, i hope you enjoy this. ready the tissue for this, its a crier. i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

the good life ― masterlist.

IT WAS HARD NOT TO KNOW WHAT EVERYTHING MEANS AFTER TWENTY YEARS OF MARRIAGE. After all that time, wouldn’t you know much about the person you were married to? This moment was not an exemption, of course. You were his wife, you knew everything about him. You just had to know.

So, as you stood there, looking at him, you knew that look. That look in Kento's caramel eyes as he’s putting on his suit. The quiet resignation. The practiced ease of sliding the tie around his neck, smoothing down his shirt, adjusting the cufflinks. Like a man preparing to go to war — except it isn’t war. It’s something worse. You knew that much.

You hum softly, curled up on the couch, and watch him from across the room. He doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on making himself presentable. Like it matters. Like any of it matters. You know where he’s going. You’ve always known.

It’s something you never said out loud, not in the past twenty years, not when the nights stretched long and lonely, not when his touch began to feel like an apology instead of love. You haven’t said a word, and he hasn’t either.

But you know all about it already.

There was no need for such words.

There was no need for anything else.

You know because when he turns around, there’s that smile all over again. That smile you fell in love with all those years ago. It was that loving, gentle smile. Strained by the weariness, the tired, and the painfully distant bitterness that dwelled over time on his face. 

And then besides that, he lies. 

He always has to know how to lie.

He was an actor by trade, after all.

"I’ll be home late, baby." he says like it means nothing, like it’s any other day. His voice doesn’t crack. His eyes don’t betray him. But you see it. You always do. And it kills you a little more each time. 

You know he loves you. It’s never been a question of love. It’s always been a question of truth. And the truth is, love doesn’t stop him from leaving. The truth is, love doesn’t make him stay. The truth is, he’s already gone before he’s out the door.

And sometimes you want to kill him for it. Even if you don’t want to, you think about it often. You think about wanting to just be angry and let yourself loose into the madness of it all. You wanted to go and have something for yourself. Even if that was a life, even if it was his life. After all that you had suffered and endured, don’t you deserve it? Don’t you deserve to take his life?

For the silence. For the way he pretends. For the way you let him. For the way you can’t bring yourself to break it all apart because maybe —just maybe— if you keep pretending, too, it’ll hurt less.

You don’t say a word when he leans down to kiss your temple as gently as he could, as lovingly as he could. You don’t flinch, you don’t cling. You don’t beg him to stay. You just hum again, quieter this time, and watch him leave like you have a hundred times before. 

And when the door closes behind him, the sound is deafening.

You stare at the door long after he's gone. Like if you watch long enough, he'll come back. Like if you sit still enough, you'll hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway. But silence is all that answers you. Silence, and the faint hum of the clock that ticks louder with every passing second.

Your hands twitch against your lap, curling into fists before releasing again. You wonder if tonight it'll be different, if he'll come home and tell you the truth. If he'll break, just once, and tell you what you already know. That there’s someone else. That his heart no longer belongs here, with you.

But it never happens. It’s never happened.

You get up after a while, wandering through the house like a ghost. You pass by the photos on the walls. The framed moments of happiness frozen in time. His smile in those pictures looks real. Like he didn’t know back then what would become of you both. You touch one of the frames, trailing your finger down his face. It feels cruel now, looking at those captured memories.

The bed feels colder when you climb in alone. You face his side, the sheets still perfectly made, undisturbed by the weight of his body. You press your face into his pillow, breathing him in. You think, for a fleeting second, that if you cry hard enough, he might feel it from wherever he is and come home.

But you don’t cry. You’ve already wasted too many nights crying. Instead, you just wait. 

Because that's all you know how to do now. Wait. And love him. And hate him a little, too.

THE STORY STARTS EVEN BEFORE THAT. You and Nanami Kento grew up together. Two kids from two very different worlds — he is filled with wealth and privilege, you were with struggle and scarcity. His parents lived in a grand, pristine house, while you lived in a cramped apartment that barely stayed warm in the winter.

His clothes were always crisp and clean, and yours were worn out and patched up. From the moment you realized just how different your lives were, you knew people like you didn’t belong in his world.

And the world didn’t hesitate to remind you of that. The neighborhood kids who ran in the same circles as Nanami never let you forget it. They whispered when you came around, made faces when you approached, and laughed when you walked away. 

“Why do you let her hang around you?” they’d ask him. “She doesn't fit in with us.” 

But Nanami Kento never wavered. Not once. Not ever.

“She’s my friend.” he’d say, firm and unwavering.

And that was all it took.

It didn’t matter if your shoes had holes or if your hands were rough from helping your family with chores. It didn’t matter that you didn’t have expensive toys or that you couldn’t bring lunch to school some days. 

Kento always shared this with you. He always liked making sure you were as full as him. So he would go and split his neatly packed bento in half and hand you the bigger portion without a second thought. 

You’d protest, of course, but he’d only shrug and say, “I wasn’t that hungry anyway.” 

You knew it was a lie.

Even back then, he always lied.

And he smiles all the same.

He always did that, giving without asking for anything in return, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you valued him more than anything because of it. But what you didn’t realize was how deeply it had settled in your bones. The way you looked at him, the way you cherished him, the way you loved him.

It wasn’t like one day you just woke up and decided to love Nanami Kento. No, it was a gradual thing. Like the warmth of the sun slowly rising over the horizon. It happened on the days he’d sneak away from his house to find you playing in the dirt, unbothered by the stares of his so-called friends. 

It happened when he’d walk you home after school, insisting it was just on the way when it wasn’t. It happened when you were crying after your father came home drunk again, and Nanami held your hand quietly, letting you cry into his shoulder without a word.

It happened every time he chose you.

And because of that, because he never treated you like you were less than him, because he never made you feel like you didn’t belong — you fell in love with him. Quietly. Deeply. Hopelessly. Truthfully. 

But you never said a word about it. How could you?

You were still just you. You were unimportant, rough around the edges, struggling to keep your life from falling apart. And he was Nanami Kento, brighter than the sun itself. He was polished, brilliant, and destined for a life far better than the one you could ever give him. 

Loving him felt like holding sunlight in your hands. 

It was beautiful, but impossible to keep.

And so you stifled it, you swallowed it down. 

You smiled when he spoke of his future. Of traveling abroad, of making something of himself — and you ignored the ache in your chest. You told yourself it was enough to simply have him in your life, even if you could never have his heart. But deep down, you knew.

One day, he’d leave. 

He’d outgrow this town. 

He’d outgrow you. 

You’d be left where you always were. You would be standing in the shadow of his light, loving him from a distance. You knew that even if he leaves, even if he doesn’t stay. You would love him all the same.

WHEN THAT DAY CAME, YOU HADN’T EXPECTED IT. You were sixteen when Nanami Kento told you he was leaving. He had gotten accepted into a prestigious school overseas. One that would guarantee him a promising future. His parents were thrilled. His friends envied him. 

Everyone around him kept saying to him — You’ll do great things, Nanami. You’re destined for success.

But all you could hear was the sound of your own heart breaking. Yet you didn’t want it to be broken down out loud.  So, you decided to go and smile all about it. It was better this way, you think to yourself. He, after all, deserved better than you.

He found you later that evening, sitting on the rusted swing set in the small park where you two always met. You already knew what he was going to say. You could see it in his eyes — a mixture of excitement and guilt.

“I’m leaving.” he finally said, voice quiet. “I got accepted into a school in Denmark.”

You forced a smile, ignoring the lump in your throat. “That’s… that’s amazing, Kento. Really. I’m happy for you.”

But you weren’t. 

God, you weren’t.

“I’ll only be gone for a couple of years, you know.” he tried to reassure you. “I’ll visit during the holidays. And we can write letters—”

“Yeah, I know.” you cut him off, still smiling. “We’ll stay in touch. Like we used to.”

But deep down, you knew better. People like you didn’t get to stay in the lives of people like him. Nanami Kento was destined for bigger and better things, all these things that didn’t include you. And you hated yourself for thinking that way.

So instead of breaking down, instead of begging him to stay, you spent your remaining days together trying to memorize everything about him. The way his blond hair would fall over his forehead when he was deep in thought. 

The sound of his laugh when you said something ridiculous. The warmth of his hand whenever it brushed against yours. You burned it all into your memory, knowing it was the closest you’d ever get to having him. 

And then like the wind, that day came in a sudden push.

You didn’t cry when you said goodbye to him at the train station. 

You didn’t flinch when he pulled you into a tight hug and whispered, “I’ll see you soon.” 

You didn’t break down when you watched the train pull away, carrying him farther and farther from you. But that night, when you were alone in your bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling — you sobbed until your throat was raw. Because you knew.

You knew that he’s not coming back.

Maybe not intentionally, maybe he would write you a few letters, maybe he would visit during the holidays but eventually, the distance would settle in. He’d meet new people, make new friends, build a new life. 

And you? You’d still be here, stuck in the same town, living the same hard life you always had. You didn’t blame him. How could you? He deserved better. Yet you told yourself that you’d get over him. That the ache in your chest would eventually fade. That you’d move on.

But you never did.

The letters came at first. Handwritten, neat, and always signed, Kento. 

He’d tell you about the classes he was taking, the places he was visiting, the new friends he was making. And you’d read every word, trying to picture him in that new world of his — a world you didn’t belong to. You always write back, of course. But your letters were never as exciting. What were you supposed to say? 

Hey, I’m still working two part-time jobs to help my mom make rent. Our fridge broke again last week, but it’s fine. I’ve gotten used to eating once a day. 

No. Instead, you lied. You told him you were doing fine, that life was okay, that you were just happy to hear from him. But as the months went on, the letters became less frequent. And then, eventually, they stopped altogether. And that was it.

Nanami Kento became a part of your past.

He was just another thing you had to let go of.

Yet you think about it now, you should have let go.

You should have let it all be.

IT WAS QUITE A SURPRISE, NOT ONE WHICH YOU HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT. You didn’t know he became an actor. The Nanami Kento standing in front of you now. He was still quite as polished, poised, and impossibly handsome as he was.

And yet, he was a far cry from the boy you used to know. But it was still him, he was all the same. Same deep voice. Same gentle gaze. Same presence that made the world feel a little less heavy.

And yet, there was something else too. A distance. 

Like he didn’t quite belong here anymore.

It was like he had outgrown this town, just as you always knew he would.

“Kento, oh wow….” you managed, trying not to let your voice shake. “I… I didn’t know you were back.”

His smile faltered slightly, like he was trying to keep his composure. “Just for a few days. I had some… time off.”

You didn’t miss the way his caramel eyes swept over you. From your wrinkled convenience store uniform to the worn-out shoes on your feet. It was subtle, but you saw it. And it made your stomach twist in shame.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, carefully. Like he was afraid of the answer.

You forced a small laugh, waving a hand. “You know… same old, same old. Nothing much has changed.”

Lie. Everything had changed. You were still here, yes. You were still in the same town, still in the same life — but it felt different now. Colder. Like the weight of the world had settled heavier on your shoulders after he left. And it didn’t escape Kento’s notice.

You were supposed to be somewhere else. He knew that. Out of everyone he’d ever known, you were the smartest. You were the sharpest, the most capable, the one who always dreamed bigger than the town could ever hold. 

You used to talk about it all the time — the places you wanted to go, the life you wanted to build. You were supposed to go to college. You were supposed to do great things. And yet here you were. Stuck. In this town. Wearing a faded uniform and a name tag, working a dead-end job.

Why? Why are you still here, suffering like this?

“So, uh….” you cleared your throat, forcing a smile. “How’s Denmark? Or… wait. Are you still there?”

“No, no. I don’t live there.” he answered, his voice quieter now. “I, uh… I moved to Tokyo. For work.”

“Work?” you tilted your head.

And that’s when you saw it. The subtle shift in his stance. 

Like he was bracing himself for something.

“...I’m an actor now,” he admitted, almost sheepishly.

You blinked. “Wait — like… on TV?”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable. “Film, mostly. I’ve done a few series too.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding.”

He chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “I’m not. It just… happened, I guess.”

Of course it did, you thought bitterly. Because that’s what people like him did. They left, they made something of themselves, and they became untouchable. Meanwhile, people like you stayed exactly where they were rooted in place, forgotten, ordinary.

“That’s… amazing, Kento. Really.” You smiled, even though it burned your throat. “I’m happy for you.”

But Nanami Kento couldn’t find it in himself to smile back. 

Because all he could think about was how wrong this felt.

You’re supposed to be the one out there, he thought. You were always the brilliant one. You were supposed to leave this town — not me. You were supposed to make something of yourself.

Instead, you were still here in this wretched place. In a store that smelled faintly of stale bread and cleaning supplies. Ringing up snacks for high schoolers who would eventually leave you behind just like everyone else did.

“You’re still working here?” he asked softly, his voice careful.

“Yeah. Been here for a couple of years now.” You shrugged like it was nothing. “Pays the bills.”

His stomach twisted at your words all the sudden. “What about school?” he asked. “You… you were supposed to go to college, right? Didn’t you get accepted somewhere?”

You froze. For a brief moment, the smile cracked on your face. But you stitched it back together quickly. “Ah, yeah… I did. But, you know. Life happens.”

Lie, again, huh?

The truth was that you did get accepted. To a top university in Tokyo, actually. But your mom lost her job the same week you got the acceptance letter. Rent fell behind. Bills piled up. And you did what you always did — you stayed. 

You got a job, dropped out before you even started, and spent the next few years trying to keep your family afloat. You did everything you could to help your family to survive. You abandoned everything to survive. But you didn’t tell Kento that. You couldn’t.

“Anyway, uh….” you deflected, forcing some cheer into your voice, “I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be. Don’t let me keep you.”

But Nanami Kento didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Because he couldn’t stop staring at you. He couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong this was. The person he loved most in this world, the one who deserved everything was still here, stuck, while he was out there living a dream he never even wanted in the first place.

And he hated it. 

God, he hated it.

“…Have dinner with me, at least.” he blurted out suddenly.

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“Dinner. Tonight.” His voice was steadier now. “I want to catch up.”

You hesitated. “Kento, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His gaze softened. “Please.”

And maybe it was because you were too tired to argue. Or maybe it was because, despite everything, you still loved him. So you gave in. “…Okay. Yeah. Dinner sounds nice.”

And for the first time since he left, Kento felt like he could breathe again.

That night, he picked you up from your small apartment. You tried to dress nicer, but you didn’t have much to work with. It was just a worn-out dress you hadn’t touched in years. When you opened the door and saw him standing there in a tailored coat and polished shoes, you almost told him to forget it.

But Kento only smiled and said, “You look beautiful.”

And God, you hated how much you still loved him.

Dinner was… nostalgic. You talked about old memories, laughed about stupid things you did as kids. But Kento couldn’t stop noticing how guarded you were. How carefully you danced around your life now.

Never mentioning anything too personal, never hinting at how hard things really were. And when the night was over, when he walked you back to your door, he couldn’t help himself.

“…Why did you stay?” he finally asked.

You froze, your hand on the doorknob. “…What?”

“You were supposed to leave this town, you know.” he said, voice cracking slightly. “You were supposed to go to college. Travel. Do everything you always talked about. So… why didn’t you?”

You hesitated. But then you smiled soft and hollow. “Someone had to stay and take care of things.”

And before he could ask what you meant, you gave him one last smile and said. “Goodnight, Kento.”

Then you closed the door. And Kento stood there, staring at the chipped paint on your doorframe, his heart breaking all over again. Because the person he loved most in this world was still stuck in a place she was never meant to stay.

And he didn’t know how to fix it.

NOT A WINK OF SLEEP THAT NIGHT ONCE AGAIN. After you closed the door on Kento, you leaned against it, heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest.

You could still feel the warmth of his gaze, still hear the tenderness in his voice when he said you looked beautiful. It was like he still saw you the way he did when you were kids. Like time and distance hadn’t changed a thing.

But it had.  You weren’t the same girl you used to be. And he wasn’t the same boy who once shared his lunch with you. He was Nanami Kento now, an actor, a star, someone the world adored. And you? You were still here. Working a dead-end job, carrying the weight of your family’s survival on your back, and holding onto the ghost of a love you never confessed.

So why did it feel like he was still yours?

Why did it still hurt like hell to let him go?

On the other side of that door, Kento didn’t move for a long time. He just stood there, still staring at the door you closed between you two and felt his throat tighten with a kind of pain he hadn’t experienced in years. 

Because no matter how much you smiled that night, no matter how light you tried to make your voice sound, he saw it. The exhaustion in your eyes. The tension in your shoulders. The carefully crafted responses designed to keep him from knowing the truth. You were struggling. And it killed him.

Because you were the smartest person he knew. You were supposed to be miles away from this town, pursuing the future you always dreamed of. You were supposed to be untouchable, unstoppable, radiant. But instead… you were here. Tired. Small. Dimming under the weight of a life that never stopped asking more from you.

And Kento couldn’t stand it. The thought of going back to Tokyo, of returning to his world of flashing cameras, scripts, and fame while you were stuck here, surviving day by day, made him physically ill.

I should have taken you with me, he thought bitterly. I never should have left you here.

And that’s when he decided — he wasn’t leaving without you this time.

He didn’t care what it took. He didn’t care if you pushed him away. He didn’t care if you convinced yourself you didn’t belong in his world anymore. He would break down every wall you built around yourself if it meant pulling you out of this life.

Because the truth was he never stopped loving you.

And he’d be damned if he lost you a second time. The next day, you were working your usual shift when the doorbell chimed and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. You felt it before you even saw him. 

“…Kento.” You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

He looked painfully out of place in the small convenience store. He was dressed in a dark coat, hair perfectly styled, standing taller and broader than you remembered. It was almost laughable. This man who graced movie screens and magazine covers standing in the middle of your dusty workplace like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Thought I’d stop by today.” he said simply. “I was hoping to see you.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. Don’t do this, Kento.

“I, uh… I’m working on the floor.” you stammered. “Can’t really chat right now.”

“I’ll wait.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I’ll wait until your shift is over.” he said, completely serious. “Then we’ll grab dinner. My treat.”

“Kento—”

“Don’t say no.” His voice was soft, but firm. “Please.”

And God, you almost did. You almost told him no. You almost told him to leave you alone, that you didn’t want him to see you like this anymore, that you couldn’t handle standing next to him and being reminded of how far apart your lives had become.

But you didn’t. Because deep down, you still craved him.

You craved his voice, his touch, his presence. 

Even if it hurts you just do it all over again.

“…Okay.”

The night air was cold, but his coat was warm. Somewhere between dinner and walking you home, Kento had shrugged off his expensive wool coat and draped it around your shoulders without hesitation. You tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“Don’t argue with me about this, please.” he murmured, his hand lingering against your arm a little too long.

It was dangerous being this close to him again. 

But you couldn’t pull away from him.

“So….” you forced lightness into your voice. “What’s it like being famous?”

He scoffed. “Overrated.”

You laughed softly. “Oh, come on. You’re on billboards now. You can’t tell me it’s not a little amazing.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” His voice was distant. “Not if you’re not there to see it.”

Your steps faltered. “…What?”

Kento stopped walking — turning to face you, his expression unreadable. “I thought about you every day.” he confessed, his voice raw. 

“Kento—”

“The entire time I was gone. I kept wondering what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy.” His throat bobbed. “And every time I came back home, I hoped I’d see you, but you were always gone. I… I didn’t know if you wanted to see me again.”

You felt your heart crack open. “Kento…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you stayed?” His voice broke slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you never went to college?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—”

“Do you have any idea how brilliant you are?” His voice was trembling now, thick with emotion. “You were always the smartest person in the room. You deserved to get out of here….to have everything you ever dreamed of. And instead… you stayed. You gave it all up. Why?”

Tears burned the back of your eyes. “Because I didn’t have a choice, Kento.”

“Yes, you did.” His voice cracked. “You could have told me. You could have called me. I would’ve—”

“You would’ve what, Kento?” you choked. “Fixed my life for me? Paid my bills? Dragged me to Tokyo and pretended like I belonged in your world?”

His jaw clenched. “You do belong in my world.”

“No, I don’t.” you snapped, tears finally spilling over. “Look at me. I’ve been stuck in the same place since you left. I’m still living paycheck to paycheck. I didn’t finish school. I’ve done nothing with my life. And you—” your voice cracked painfully. “You’ve become everything you were meant to be.”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

“I didn’t want any of it.” His voice was barely a whisper.

You froze. “…What?”

Kento swallowed hard. “I didn’t want fame. The career. The spotlight. I didn’t want any of it. The only thing I ever wanted was you—and I thought… I thought if I made something of myself, you’d still be here when I came back.” His voice cracked. “But you weren’t. And I hated myself for leaving you behind.”

Your knees almost buckled.

“And now that I’m here, with you.” his voice broke. "I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Tears poured freely down your face. “Kento, don’t—”

“Come with me.” He took a step closer, his hands trembling as they cradled your face. “Come to Tokyo. Stay with me. I’ll pay for your school, I’ll—”

“No!” you sobbed, pulling away. “I’m not your responsibility, Kento—”

“You’re not a responsibility, nor a liability.” his voice cracked. “You’re the love of my life.”

Your heart shattered. And before you could protest again, his mouth was on yours. Desperate, burning, like he was trying to make up for every single day he spent without you. His hands cradled your face, his kiss messy and filled with heartbreak. When he finally pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Please.” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Let me take you away from here. Let me love you the way I always should have.”

For the first time in years, you let yourself sob in his arms.

Because despite everything, you loved him more than anything in this world.

Despite the distance, the pain, and the time lost, you never stopped loving him either.

And maybe… just maybe… he could still save you.

YOU COULD REMEMBER THE WAY IT RAINED WHEN YOU GOT MARRIED. Not a heavy storm — just a soft, steady drizzle, as if the sky itself was quietly weeping with joy. You stood in a small, intimate venue with that beautiful smile on your face.

Both of you of you surrounded by only a few close friends and family, wearing the simplest white dress you could afford because despite Kento’s insistence that he’d buy you the most extravagant gown in Tokyo, you refused.

“I don’t need anything fancy, you know.” you told him. “I just need you.”

And so there you stood with your fingers trembling, heart racing as Kento watched you walk down the aisle like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His jaw was tight, his caramel eyes glassy with unshed tears, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. Like he couldn’t believe, after all those years apart, you were finally becoming his wife.

When you finally reached him, his hand grasped yours like a lifeline. 

His thumb trembled as it brushed against your skin, and when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.” his voice cracked.

And when the officiant asked if he took you as his wife, Kento didn’t hesitate one bit as he looked at you with the warmest gazes. “I do.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I always have.”

Kento never let you go after that.

You moved into his apartment in Tokyo. It was a spacious, light-filled place with floor-to-ceiling windows and a breathtaking view of the city. It was bigger than anything you’d ever lived in, and it almost made you uncomfortable at first.

But Kento never let you feel like you didn’t belong.

“This is our home now, hm?” he told you softly one night as you stood by the window, still struggling to wrap your head around it all. “Not just mine. Ours.”

And you believed him. Because every time he came home from a shoot, tired, disheveled, and smelling like expensive cologne — the first thing he did was find you. 

\Whether you were in the kitchen, the bedroom, or curled up in the living room studying, he always sought you out, kissing you like it was the first time every time.

“My wife.” he’d murmur against your lips, as if the words themselves tasted sweet. “My beautiful wife.”

And every time, your heart would ache with disbelief. Because this was real. You were really married to him. You really woke up to him every morning. His arm draped around your waist, his face buried in your neck and he really loved you like you were the most precious thing in the world. But Kento wasn’t done giving you the life you deserved.

“Tokyo University.” he said one night, casually, like it wasn’t the single most outrageous thing you’d ever heard.

You froze mid-bite. “…What?”

“I want you to apply, like you did a long time ago.” he said simply, sitting across from you at the dinner table. “You always wanted to study chemistry. Now’s your chance.”

Your throat tightened. “Kento… I can’t. I haven’t been in school for years. I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was firm but gentle. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known. Don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “But the tuition—”

“I’ll pay for it.”

Your head snapped up. “Kento, no—”

“Yes.” His gaze was unwavering. “I’ll pay for every single yen. I’ll cover your tuition, your textbooks, your lab fees. Everything. You won’t have to worry about anything.” His voice softened. “Please. Let me do this for you.”

Tears burned your eyes. “I don’t want to feel like a burden to you, Kento.”

“You’re not a burden, never will be.” he said fiercely, already pushing his chair back so he could kneel in front of you. His large hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “You’re my wife. Everything I have is yours. My money, my time, my life. It’s all yours. And if it means giving you the future you always dreamed of, then I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

And with that, you broke down. You sobbed into his chest, clutching him like your life depended on it, because you realized Kento meant it. Every word. Every promise. He was going to build you a life so beautiful, so far removed from the pain you endured, that you’d never have to feel unworthy again.

So the next day, you applied. And Kento wrote the check without blinking an eye. 

You could still remember months later, the day you got accepted into Tokyo University, you burst into tears. You were in the kitchen when the letter arrived, your hands trembling as you tore it open and the second you saw “Congratulations, you’ve been accepted!”

You collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

“Kento, Kento!” you choked, clutching the letter like it was your lifeline. “I got in! Oh god…. I got in!”

Kento was on you in seconds, kneeling beside you, his face crumpling with pride. “I told you. I told you, baby!” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I told you you could do it.”

And that night, he took you out to dinner, something extravagant, something you never would have been able to afford on your own. When the waiter congratulated you, Kento beamed like he was the one who got accepted.

“Her, it was her who got in.” he told the waiter proudly. “That’s my wife. She’s going to Tokyo University for chemistry. Smartest woman I’ve ever met.”

And when you glanced at him, with those eyes glassy, heart full, you realized he wasn’t just proud. He was in awe of you. Like he always had been. 

And for a while, it was perfect.

Life slipped into something sweet and steady. You were a university student again, just like you’d always dreamed. You spent your days attending lectures, taking meticulous notes, and spending long afternoons in the library surrounded by textbooks and the faint smell of old paper. You were learning again. Living again. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you.

And Kento? God, he was your biggest cheerleader.

Every morning before you left for class, he kissed you on the forehead and said, “Knock ‘em dead, love.” 

Every night when you came home, exhausted but fulfilled, he had dinner ready and waiting. When you showed him your test scores, perfect marks, one after another. Your husband would beam with pride like he was the one who’d aced the exam. 

When you complained about a difficult professor or a tedious lab experiment, he’d listen intently, rubbing circles into your back, and say, “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

And every night, when you fell asleep beside him, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. But then —slowly, quietly— the loneliness crept in. Because Kento wasn’t home most of the time.

At first, you didn’t notice. You were busy, after all. You were drowning in lab reports, study sessions, and back-to-back classes. But then you started realizing how quiet the apartment felt when you got home. You’d unlock the door, expecting to hear the hum of the television or Kento’s soft humming in the kitchen but it was always silent. Always empty.

You told yourself it was fine. That was just how it was going to be sometimes. Your Kento was working hard, just like you were. It was only temporary. But weeks passed. Then months. And Kento started coming home later and later.

At first, it was 8 PM. Then 9. Then 10. And soon, there were nights where he didn’t come home at all, just a brief, apologetic text. “Late meeting. Don’t wait for me. Love you.”

And you tried to be understanding. You tried. After all, Kento was the one supporting you. He was paying your tuition, your textbooks, your transportation — everything. He was shouldering the entire financial weight of your dream without a single complaint. The least you could do was be patient.

But good god, it was so lonely.

You’d eat dinner alone most nights, your plate growing cold as you stared at the empty seat across from you. You’d do your assignments at the kitchen table, hoping to hear the jingle of his keys at the door  but it never came. You started sleeping alone more often than not, his side of the bed cold and untouched.

And worst of all you missed him.

You missed Kento. You missed the man who used to laugh with you until your stomach hurt. 

The man who used to kiss you breathless in the middle of the kitchen just because he could. 

The man who used to touch your belly every night and whisper. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.” 

The man who promised you. “I’ll always put you first.”

But now? You were starting to feel like you’d lost him. And then came the night that broke you.

It was well past midnight, and you were curled up on the couch, your textbooks sprawled around you. You told yourself you wouldn’t wait up for him, but you did. You always did. Hours passed, and still — no sign of him. Finally, at 1:27 AM, you heard the door unlock.

“Kento?” you called, your voice cracking.

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally stepped into the living room, his tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the exhaustion in his eyes was so deep it made your chest ache.

“Hey.” he murmured, already walking past you toward the bedroom.

And something in you snapped.

“Seriously?” you blurted. “That’s all you have to say?”

Kento froze, his hand still on the doorframe. “…What?”

You stood, your heart pounding. “You’ve been gone all day again. And you just walk in like I don’t even exist?”

He turned to you, confused. “I—I’m sorry. Work ran late—”

“It always runs late, Kento!” your voice cracked, hot tears stinging your eyes. “Every night, I sit here alone. I eat alone. I sleep alone. Do you even realize how lonely it is to come home to an empty apartment every single day?”

Pain flickered across his face. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m doing this for you, love. I’m working so you can go to school—”

“I never asked you to do that!” you shouted, and the second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Kento blinked, stunned. “…What?”

Your chest heaved. “I never asked you to throw your entire life away for me, Kento! I never asked you to quit your project, or work insane hours, or pay for everything. You just did it. And now it’s like I don’t even have a husband anymore. I just have this… ghost who comes home at 2 AM and leaves before I wake up!”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

Kento’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. “…You think I want this?”

You froze. “…What?”

“You think I like working sixteen-hour days?” his voice cracked, raw and strained. “You think I enjoy being away from you? Missing dinner, missing sleep, missing everything…..you think any of this is what I wanted?”

Your throat tightened. “Kento—”

“I did it for you, you know that.” he said bitterly. “I did it so you wouldn’t have to worry about money. I did it so you could chase your dream without worrying about bills or tuition. I did it because I thought it would make you happy.” His voice cracked. “But you’re not, are you?”

Tears blurred your vision. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he laughed hollowly, running a hand down his face. “I work until I can’t see straight just to keep everything together and you still think I’m not doing enough.”

“That’s not true at all!”

“Then what do you want from me, love?” his voice finally broke, desperate and shattered. “Tell me. Please. What do you want?”

And the answer was so painfully simple, it tore you apart.

I just want you.

But you couldn’t say it. Because how could you ask that of him when he’d already given you everything? When he was breaking his back just to keep you afloat? When he’d already sacrificed his career, his sleep, his time, his life for you?

So instead, you just cried and cried.

And for the first time in your marriage, Kento didn’t comfort you.

He just turned away, defeated, and said, “I’m going to bed.”

And you realized somewhere along the way, you and Kento had become strangers for the first time.

And it hurts like hell to live with that thought.

But of course, it wouldn’t be the last time.

THINGS DID NOT GET BETTER.  If anything, they got worse. You were pregnant. And everything was hurting. It was a different kind of pain now, not just the crushing weight of your depression, but something more physical, more suffocating. 

Your body aches constantly. Your back screamed from the weight of your growing belly. Your feet were perpetually swollen. Your nights were restless, spent tossing and turning as the baby kicked relentlessly inside you, reminding you always reminding you — that there was no way out of this life you didn’t want. And it was killing you.

You thought hitting rock bottom would come with some kind of clarity. Like one day, you’d cry hard enough or sleep long enough or starve yourself numb enough that your body would finally break through the darkness. You thought there would be some moment, some visceral breaking point that would force you to finally start healing.

But it never came.

Instead, you just… sank.

Deeper and deeper, like trying to breathe underwater with lungs already half-filled. Every day you woke up was a fresh kind of misery. You couldn’t get out of bed without feeling like your bones were made of lead. 

You couldn’t stomach food without wanting to throw it all up later. You couldn’t look in the mirror without despising the reflection. You see a bloated, pale, hollowed out, a shell of the woman you used to be.

And the baby never stopped kicking.

You hated it.

God, you hated it.

You hated the way it never let you sleep. You hated the way your body no longer felt like yours. You hated the constant, suffocating reminder that soon, almost all too soon, you would be responsible for a life you never asked for. A life you were already failing before it even arrived.

But the worst part?

You hated yourself for hating it.

Because what kind of mother resented her own baby before it was even born? What kind of woman laid in bed, day after day, clutching her belly and wishing god, please just make this stop  instead of feeling love? What kind of wife watched her husband sacrifice everything for her and still felt nothing but numb, bitter emptiness?

And Kento.

God, Kento.

You couldn’t even look at him anymore without feeling like the most wretched person alive. He was still trying — still holding everything together, still waking up every morning and kissing your forehead, still whispering, “I love you. I’m here.” 

But you could see it now — the slow, painful unraveling of the man you loved. The exhaustion in his eyes, no longer just from work but from you. The hesitation in his touch, like he was afraid you’d pull away — and sometimes, you did.

The way his voice cracked when he said, “How are you feeling today, love?” and your answer was always “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine.

And Kento knew it.

You could see it every night when he crawled into bed beside you and held you close. The way his hand cradles your stomach, his thumb tracing soft circles over your skin. You could feel it in the way his touch, once so warm and electric, now felt like a desperate attempt to keep you here. Like if he let go for even a second, you’d slip through his fingers entirely.

And you hated that too.

Because you knew you were killing him. Slowly. Quietly. Without even trying. You could see it in his slumped shoulders, in the way his voice grew quieter, in the way he looked at you like he was losing you and didn’t know how to stop it.

And you wanted to scream — Stop loving me. Stop trying to save me. I’m already gone.

But you didn’t.

Because how could you say that to the man who dropped his entire career for you? The man who worked twenty-hour days just to pay for your tuition, your food, your life? The man who still kissed you goodbye every morning and told you, “I love you, always.”

So you did the only thing you could.

You kept shrinking.

You stopped eating. Barely touched your dinner when Kento brought it to you. The smell made you nauseous anyway, and even when it didn’t, you could barely stomach the idea of keeping yourself alive, let alone another human growing inside you.

You stopped leaving the house. Your classes had already been dropped; you told Kento it was temporary, just until you felt better. But deep down, you knew you weren’t going back. Tokyo University had suddenly become a distant dream once again, like a life that belonged to someone else entirely. And you were too far gone now to reach for it again.

You stopped responding to your friends. They texted you constantly, trying to check on you. You know they mean well. You know they just want to be there for you. And that they were excited. But you were having a hard time accepting their well wishes.

“How’s the baby? How’s school? We miss you!” 

But the thought of replying made your stomach churn. What were you supposed to say, that wouldn’t come out as a horrible thing? 

“I’m miserable. I don’t want this baby. I don’t want this life.” 

Would have that gotten you some mercy?

So you ignored them. Deleted their messages. Let your phone die and don't bother charging it. And then you stopped talking to Kento. Not entirely. But enough.

Later on, Kento halted the work on his upcoming project the day after you broke down. No warning. No hesitation. One phone call to his manager, another to his agency, and it was done. His voice was steady, almost unnervingly calm when he said: “I’m taking a break for now. My wife needs me.” 

And that was it. He dropped it all like it meant nothing. A project he had poured months of his life into, had gone in seconds. You tried to protest when you found out, but he wouldn’t hear it. His mind was made up before you could even form the words —“Don’t do this for me.”

And then he stayed.

Every single day, he stayed. Morning turned to night, and there he was. Bringing you water when you couldn’t stomach food. Sitting on the edge of the bed while you stared blankly at the ceiling. Holding you through the nights when your body trembled from crying, or worse, the nights when you didn’t cry at all, just lay there like a ghost in your own skin.

He was patient. Devoted. Unwavering.

But it didn’t fix anything.

Because the damage was already done.

You could feel it in the way his touch, once so warm and electric, now felt like a desperate attempt to tether you to the earth. In the way his voice,  soft, pleading, loving had seemed to echo against the walls of your hollowed-out chest, never quite reaching you. 

In this way you could still feel the crushing weight of your own failure suffocating you, no matter how many times he whispered “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

And the worst part?

You wanted him to leave.

Because it hurt too much to see him like this. Abandoning his career, his life, his future, for someone who couldn’t even muster the strength to get out of bed. You resented the way he sacrificed everything for you. 

You hated how the look in his eyes shifted from affection to concern, from admiration to pity. You despised yourself for being the reason his world was crumbling alongside yours. And deep down, you knew. Kento could stay forever, and it still wouldn’t fix what was already broken.

And after that, you stopped going to school.

At first, you told Kento it was temporary,  just a leave of absence until you felt better. But weeks turned into months, and soon your professors were emailing you: “If you do not return, you will have to re-enroll next semester.”

You didn’t respond.

Because the truth was, you didn’t care anymore.

Your stomach was huge now. You could barely walk up the stairs without losing your breath. Your back ached. Your feet were swollen. You couldn’t sleep through the night because the baby was always kicking, and every morning you woke up with the same suffocating thought.

"I don’t want this life."

And the guilt ate you alive.

Because you loved Kento. You loved your baby. But you hated your life. You hated what it had become. You hated the fact that you were no longer a student at Tokyo University. You were just a pregnant woman, a pregnant housewife. You hated the fact that you no longer had a future — you just had motherhood. You just had this house, his status as a wife.

And Kento saw it. He saw how you’d spend hours just sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib with dead eyes. He saw how you stopped studying, stopped watching TV, stopped doing anything. It was like you were fading away.

And it killed him.

You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged a little more each day, as if the weight of watching you deteriorate was slowly crushing him. In the way he tried to hide the bags under his eyes from sleepless nights spent worrying about you. 

In this way his voice would crack, just barely, when he’d sit next to you and say, “Talk to me, love. Please.”

But you had nothing to say. What were you supposed to tell him? That you hated the life you were about to bring into the world? That you regretted everything — the pregnancy, the wedding, the choices that led you here? That sometimes, when you laid in bed at night, you imagined what it would be like if you just… didn’t wake up?

So you said nothing. Nothing at all.

And Kento tried to be strong for both of you. God, he tried.

He started cooking your favorite meals, hoping that if he made something delicious enough, you’d actually eat. He read parenting books late into the night, convinced that if he just learned enough, he could do this whole thing for the both of you, carry the weight, make up for the pieces of you that were falling apart. He took you on walks when he could get you out of bed, holding your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to hope.

But it was never enough.

It was never going to be enough.

Because the truth was — you weren’t just sad. 

You were grieving everything that had come to pass.

You were grieving the life you lost, the person you used to be. You were grieving the dreams you once held so fiercely. Finishing university, traveling, building a career as a chemist on the international level. All of it now reduced to a hazy memory of a different girl. A girl you didn’t even recognize anymore. A girl you resented for being so foolish, for thinking she could have it all.

And you were grieving the love between you and Kento — or rather, the version of it that existed before the pregnancy. Before everything became tainted by your guilt, your depression, your ever-growing resentment for the life you didn’t want.

You knew that Kento saw it too.

He saw how you flinched when he touched your stomach,  not out of pain, but because it reminded you of what you were trapped in. He saw how your kisses grew colder, how you turned your head when he tried to kiss you goodnight. He saw how you stopped saying your i love yous first — how sometimes, you didn’t say it at all.

And still, he stayed by your side. But it was breaking him whole. 

You could hear it in the way his voice cracked one night when he thought you were asleep.

He sat beside you in bed, his hand resting gently on your belly, and you heard him whisper back to you. “I don’t know how to fix this.” His voice trembled. “I don’t know how to help you.”

And that was when you realized — you weren’t the only one grieving. Kento was grieving too. He was grieving the wife he used to know. The one who laughed too loud at his jokes, who kissed him in the morning just because, who fell asleep on the couch with a textbook still in her lap. 

He was grieving the life you both dreamed of late nights studying, early mornings rushing to class, careers that would take you far. He was grieving the love that used to be effortless, the kind that didn’t require whispered prayers in the middle of the night, hoping that tomorrow would hurt less than today.

And the worst part?

You were the one who did this to him.

At least that’s how you saw it all now.

You were the one who dragged him down into this suffocating darkness with you. You were the one who made him abandon his project, his career, his life. All for a woman who could barely look at herself in the mirror without breaking. 

And every day he stayed, every day he kissed your forehead and said “I’m here”, you hated yourself a little more.

You hated yourself so much that you started to wonder if maybe — just maybe — Kento would be better off without you.

And that thought never really left.

Even when he painted the nursery walls soft yellow and smiled like he wasn’t dying inside.

Even when he held your hand in the middle of the night and promised, “We’ll get through this. I swear we will.”

Even when he looked at you with a love so devastatingly pure, it only made you ache more.

Because you couldn’t shake the feeling. That Kento deserved a better wife. And your baby deserved a better mother. And you? You didn’t deserve them at all. Around your seventh month, you completely broke.

Kento found you in the bathroom at 3 AM all alone as you were sitting in the empty bathtub, knees pulled to your chest, sobbing silently. You looked miserable with your hair disheveled and your face contorted into this look, full of grief and suffering.

“Baby?” His voice cracked. “Oh my god, baby, what’s wrong?”

And you just shook your head. “I hate this so much.” you gasped through your tears. “I hate my life. I hate my body. I hate everything. I don’t want to do this anymore, Kento. I can’t…..I can’t breathe.”

And Kento completely fell apart at the sight of your tears, falling over and over again.  “Baby, no— no, no, no.” he dropped to his knees beside the tub, his hands shaking. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. I’m here now. I’ll fix it. I’ll make it better, so—”

“You can’t!” you screamed, your voice raw and cracked. “You can’t fix this, Kento! I’m already ruined! My life is already ruined!”

And Kento? Kento completely broke. Because he realized you weren’t talking about the pregnancy. You were talking about yourself. And you were gone. All there was left now was the shell, that shell he didn’t recognize.

“I should’ve never gotten pregnant, Kento.” you sobbed, your body shaking. “I should’ve never gotten married. I should’ve stayed in school. I should’ve never left the countryside. I should’ve……I should’ve never let this happen.”

And Kento completely lost it. “Don’t say that.” he begged, his voice cracking. 

He climbed into the bathtub with you, fully clothed, and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t say that, baby, please— please don’t say that. You’re not ruined. I swear to god, I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything. Just don’t give up on me. Please don’t give up on me.”

And you just sobbed.

Because deep down, you already had.

You were right to feel that way.

It was only a matter of time when the labor came early.

You had never expected it — not this soon, not like this.

It was just around thirty-five weeks then. The baby wasn’t supposed to come yet. You still had time. Weeks. You weren’t ready. Your hospital bag wasn’t packed. The nursery still smelled like fresh paint. You hadn’t even washed the baby’s clothes yet. You weren’t supposed to go into labor yet.

But the universe didn’t care.

Your water broke in the middle of the night — and you knew instantly that something was wrong. The pain hit fast and hard, unlike anything you’d ever felt. Sharp, blinding contractions ripped through your abdomen, so intense that it stole the breath from your lungs. 

You barely managed to shake Kento awake, your voice cracked and choked, “Kento — my water……it broke—”

And the moment he saw the panic in your eyes, he moved. Kento didn’t even ask questions. He sprang out of bed, grabbing his phone with one hand and you with the other, already calling for an ambulance. 

His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the terror behind it. “Yes, my wife is thirty-five weeks pregnant. Her water just broke — she’s in pain — please send someone—”

But the contractions were coming too fast. One after the other, barely a minute in between, and by the time Kento helped you into the back of the ambulance, you knew. The baby was coming now. And the baby would have no mercy on you.

“No, no, no!” you sobbed, clutching your belly as another contraction ripped through you, your body already beginning to push despite your desperate attempts to stop it. “It’s too soon — it’s too soon—”

Kento was right there beside you, his hand in yours, his voice cracked and desperate. “You’re okay, love. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

But you didn’t feel okay. You felt like you were dying. And by the time you reached the hospital, you were already fully dilated. The doctors barely had time to wheel you into labor and delivery before you were screaming through another contraction, your body forcing you to push despite your terror.

And Kento was there. The entire time — he was there. His hand never left yours, his voice never stopped murmuring reassurances in your ear. “You can do this, love. I know you can. Just a little longer. Just hold on for me.”

But you couldn’t.

Because something was wrong.

You could feel it in your bones. In the way your body fought itself with every push, in the way your vision kept blurring, in the way you couldn’t seem to catch your breath no matter how hard you tried. And then, in the middle of a push — you felt it.

A sudden, hot gush between your legs. But it wasn’t amniotic fluid this time. It was warm. And sticky. And you didn’t have to look down to know. You were bleeding. A lot. You could feel how it echoes down, heavy and brutish.

“Kento—” your voice cracked, raw with pain. “Something’s— something’s wrong—”

And then you heard it.

The doctor’s voice, sharp and urgent. 

“She’s hemorrhaging. We’re losing her.”

And that’s when Kento lost his fucking mind.

“What?” His voice snapped, pure, raw panic flooding his face. His grip on your hand tightened like a vice. “What do you mean you’re losing her?!”

“Her blood pressure is dropping! Massive uterine hemorrhage. Doctor,  she’s losing too much blood—”

“No — no, no, no—” Kento stumbled forward, his voice cracking as his hands shook. “Do something! Save her! Save them both!”

“We need to get the baby out now or we’re going to lose them both, Mr. Nanami!”

And suddenly it was chaos. Nurses shouting. Machines beeping. Someone calling for blood transfusions. And you — fading. You could feel it. Your body was giving out, your vision was growing dim, and the only thing you could focus on was Kento.

“Kento.” you rasped, your voice so faint, so weak. Your body felt like it was drifting. “I—I love you—”

“No!” Kento screamed. He screamed like something inside him was tearing apart. His hands clawed at the hospital bed, his body lunging toward you as the doctors tried to pull him away. “No, stay with me! Stay with me, love! Don’t you fucking do this—Don’t you dare leave me!”

But you were already slipping.

The last thing you heard was his voice, raw and broken.

“I can’t do this without you. Please! Please don’t leave me. Please—”

And then, darkness.

HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. Nanami Kento couldn’t do anything but collapse in the hallway. The moment they pulled him out of the delivery room. The moment the words the doctor said, all of that rang in his ears like a death sentence. He was sure that something inside him snapped.

And when the door slammed shut behind him, separating him from you, Kento’s knees buckled. He hit the floor hard. Hands splayed out against the cold tile, chest heaving, throat raw from screaming. He didn’t even realize he was still screaming until two nurses rushed toward him, trying to pull him up, trying to calm him down, but it was useless.

Because he could still hear it. The frantic shouts of the doctors. The horrifying words “Massive hemorrhage. We’re losing her.” The sound of your screams cutting off too abruptly. And worst of all — the unbearable silence that followed.

“No—” Kento howled, his voice breaking like glass. His hands clawed at his hair, his entire body wracked with violent, gut-wrenching sobs. “No, no, no— I killed her. I fucking killed her—”

“Sir, Mr. Nanami.” one of the nurses knelt beside him, reaching out. “You have to breathe, you’re hyperventilating—”

But Kento didn’t hear her.

He couldn’t hear anything.

He didn’t care to hear whatever that was.

All he could think about, all he could see was you. Your face twisted in pain. The absolute terror in your eyes when you realized something was wrong. The way you sobbed I don’t want this, Kento, I’m not ready. And he did this. He did this to you.

His body convulsed with the force of his grief, his head slamming against the tile as his sobs tore from his chest like a wounded animal. “I killed her. I killed her. I made her hate her life and now she’s gone. She’s gone—”

“Sir—” The nurse was trying to hold him down now, his entire body thrashing against the floor as he screamed. “Sir, please, you’re going to hurt yourself—”

“LET ME GO!” Kento roared, his voice so raw it barely sounded human. “She’s dying in there. Do you understand me?! She’s fucking dying in there and I……”

Another contraction of sobs wracked his chest, and his fists slammed into the floor so hard that his knuckles split. Blood smeared against the tile, but he didn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything.

“I made her hate her life.” his voice cracked, his chest seizing with suffocating grief. His hands curled into his hair again, yanking hard as if trying to punish himself. “I did this to her. I made her want to die. And now she’s gone and I’m still here. ”

“Stop, please.” the nurse’s voice broke, her own eyes glassy as she tried to steady him. “She’s not gone. They’re trying to save her in there, with the baby.”

“No.” Kento’s head snapped up, his face twisted in a horrifying mix of rage and agony. His eyes were bloodshot, glassy, utterly devastated. “You don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it.” His voice cracked so sharply it sounded like it physically hurt him to speak.

“She wanted to die, to be free of that misery. Don’t you see?” he choked. “She hated her life. And it’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault—”

And then his body gave out.

His chest collapsed onto the cold tile floor, his forehead pressed into it as his entire body shook. Choked, gasping sobs clawed from his throat, so violent that he could barely breathe. His lungs were burning, his vision was spinning, and he was sure, so fucking sure, that this was it. That they were going to come out and tell him you were dead.

And it was his fault. 

All of it was his fault.

Because he saw it. 

He saw it every single day. The way you sat in the nursery with dead eyes. The way you stopped smiling. The way you couldn’t even say I’m excited without your voice cracking. The way your love for him was slowly being choked out by the sheer weight of your depression.

And he didn’t stop any of it. Instead, he told you to keep going. He told you to hold on. He let you suffer in silence because he thought that’s what you needed but you didn’t. You needed help. You needed saving. And instead, he trapped you in a life you never wanted.

And now you are dying.

All because of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Kento sobbed, his forehead slamming against the tile again, his blood smearing across the floor. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please….please, I’ll do anything. Just let her live. Please.”

And that was the first time in his life that Kento Nanami prayed. He prayed like a man possessed. Like a man who had nothing left to lose. His bloody fists clawed at the tile, his nails cracking against it as he begged.

“Take me,please.” he sobbed, his voice mutilated from screaming. “Please….just take me instead. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. Just…. Please don’t take her. Don’t take my wife. Don’t take my baby. I’ll do anything.”

But the silence stretched on.

And he was certain that you were already gone.

Hours continued to make mockery of him.

Agonizing, torturous hours passed — and Kento was still on the floor.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe right. Didn’t think. His body was stuck in that same position. Still face down, forehead pressed against the cold tile, hands trembling as he clenched them into bloody fists. His chest was heaving in short, sharp gasps, his entire body quaking as he sobbed.

He was certain you were dead. He felt it. He felt the moment your soul left the room. He felt the moment the light in his life snapped off like a switch. 

He was convinced that at any second, the doctor was going to come out, look him in the eyes, and say, “I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. We couldn’t save her.”

And he would never forgive himself.

Because he killed you.

His fault. His fault. His fucking fault.

He was still gasping, still clawing at the ground, still praying like a desperate man when he finally heard the door open. Kento’s head snapped up. His bloodshot, swollen eyes immediately locked onto the doctor walking toward him, his scrubs covered in blood — your blood — and Kento’s entire body seized.

“Mr. Nanami—”

“Where is she?” Kento screamed. His voice cracked, broke, his entire body lunging toward the doctor like a caged animal. His hands fisted the man’s scrubs, yanking him forward. “Is my wife alive? Tell me, damn it? Is she alive?”

The doctor barely had a chance to respond before Kento screamed again. “Tell me you saved her, goddamn you!”

And the doctor’s mouth opened — and Kento swore the entire universe stopped spinning when he finally said,  “…She’s alive.”

Kento’s entire body collapsed. His legs gave out. His grip on the doctor’s scrubs slipped. And then he didn’t realize that he had hit the floor. A gasping, broken sob ripped from his throat. The kind of sob that came from a man who was seconds away from losing everything and his entire body convulsed as he wept.

“Oh my god…..” Kento choked, his hands flying to his face, clawing at his own skin like he was trying to ground himself. “Oh my god. She’s alive. She’s alive!”

“Her condition is critical, Mr. Nanami.” the doctor warned, his voice low but steady. “We had to perform an emergency c-section and a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding. She lost over forty percent of her blood volume. We had to resuscitate her twice on the table—”

“Resuscitate?” he gasped, his vision swimming. His stomach lurched. “You mean she….she died?”

“Clinically, yes. Twice.” The doctor’s face softened with pity. “But we got her back. She’s stable now — unconscious, but alive.”

And that was all Kento needed to hear.

He ran. He didn’t even think. His legs moved before his brain could catch up, his entire body sprinting down the hall, his bloody knuckles slamming into every door he passed until he finally found your room.

The second he stepped inside, he broke.

Because there you were.

Unconscious.

Your body was completely limp, hooked up to a ventilator, your skin so pale it looked blue. Tubes were coming out of everywhere. From your arm, your nose, your mouth and there were fresh surgical dressings covering your abdomen where they had cut you open to get the baby out.

Kento couldn’t breathe. A strangled, animalistic sound tore from his throat like something between a sob and a scream and then he collapsed beside your bed. His hand shot out, desperately clutching yours, his entire body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs as he shook.

“I’m so sorry…..oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” Kento’s voice shattered, his head dropping onto your hand as his body convulsed. His chest was heaving so violently that he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “I did this. I did this to you and I….”

He couldn’t stop sobbing. His forehead pressed against your limp hand, his body rocking as he cried like a child. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry….” he choked. “I made you hate your life and I trapped you. I killed you…. oh my god, I killed you….”

And the guilt hit him like a sledgehammer. 

Because it was true. All of it.

He saw the way you suffered. The way you faded every single day. The way you stopped smiling. The way you stopped living. And instead of saving you, he kept telling you to hold on. Just a little longer, love. We’re almost there. Just a little longer.

But you weren’t okay. And Kento didn’t listen. And now you were lying there. Pale, lifeless, barely hanging on. All because of him. And the weight of it crushed him whole. He felt like Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders.

And then finally, you woke up.

“…Kento?” your voice cracked.

“Baby.” he sobbed, grabbing your face, pressing desperate kisses all over your skin. “Oh my baby…..you’re awake. You’re awake. I thought I lost you. I thought….”

“…Where’s the baby?”

And Kento completely broke. “The baby’s fine, don’t worry.” he choked. “She’s perfect. She’s beautiful. But you….you scared the shit out of me, baby. Please don’t ever do that again.”

And when they finally brought your baby girl in and you held her for the first time — you did something you didn’t expect. You cried. And then you sobbed. Because for the first time in nine months — you finally felt something coherent. Something good.

“…She’s beautiful.” you gasped. “I didn’t think I’d love her. But I do. I love her so much.”

Kento just collapsed against your hospital bed, sobbing. “I knew you would. I knew you would.”

But things are like the weather.

They were bound to change.

You should have known.

THE FIRST MONTH WAS HARD, BUT AS TIME WENT ON, IT GOT WORSE. You came home from the hospital physically intact but mentally, you were gone. You still didn’t go back to school. You didn’t touch your textbooks. You didn’t even mention chemistry. The once-brilliant student who dreamed of working in a lab was now just… a mother. And you hated it.

Every single day felt like a fog. You were exhausted but it wasn’t the baby’s fault. You knew that much. It was you that was malfunctioning. You didn’t know how to connect with her. Every time she cried, you felt nothing.

Every time she smiled, you felt nothing. Every time Kento handed her to you and said something to praise your beautiful daughter, you didn’t know how to react. You just nodded and let it go.  And Kento noticed. God, he noticed.

Kento stayed home for a month. He refused to leave your side. He didn’t take calls, he didn’t attend meetings. He just stayed home. But his contract required him to go back to work eventually. And you… you told him to go.

“Go, you have to.” you whispered, your voice dead. “You have to work, Kento. We have bills. You already missed so much.”

But Kento didn’t want to.

“Baby— no. I don’t give a shit about work. I’m not leaving you like this.”

And you forced a smile. “I’m fine, Kento.”

But you weren’t.

You weren’t.

And Kento knew it.

But eventually, he had to go. He had no choice. His manager was calling nonstop. His agency was threatening breach of contract. He had a new film that needed him and Kento was the lead role. So he left. And the guilt burned a hole in his chest.

The first day he was back on set, he couldn’t focus. His co-stars were talking to him, the director was giving him instructions but all he could think about was you. Home. Alone. With a baby you didn’t love. Kento hated himself. 

He was filming a scene when his phone buzzed in his pocket — and when he saw your name pop up, he immediately froze. 

“CUT!” the director barked. “Kento, you okay?”

“…Yeah, director.” he croaked. “I just— I need five minutes.”

And then he ran.

He ran behind the trailer, shaking, and picked up the phone. “Baby?” he gasped, panic echoing in his voice. “What’s wrong? Is the baby okay? Are you okay?”

Silence. “…I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

And Kento’s heart completely shattered.

“Baby…..” his voice cracked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…..” you gasped, voice shaking. “I mean I can’t do this. I can’t be a mom. I don’t love her, Kento. I don’t—I don’t feel anything for her. I just feel empty. And I know she deserves better. I know you deserve better. I think….I….I just….”

Your voice cracked. “I think I ruined my life.”

Kento collapsed. “No, baby. No. Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” He was crying now, gasping into the phone. “You didn’t ruin your life. You didn’t. I promise I’ll fix this. I’ll come home right now—”

“No, you won’t.”

Kento completely broke. “Baby, please.”

“No, Kento. You have to work. We need the money. We need—”

“I don’t care about the fucking money!” Kento sobbed, clutching his hair. “I care about you! I care about our family! Please don’t give up on me, baby. Please don’t give up on her.”

But you just hung up.

Kento completely lost it.

He didn’t go back on set. He stayed behind the trailer, sobbing into his hands, shaking, thinking: “I ruined her life. I did this to her. She was supposed to be in college — not stuck at home with a baby.”

And that thought ate him alive. The next few weeks were worse. Kento was dying. Not physically but mentally, emotionally and spiritually, he was. Every single day he walked onto set, it felt like he was leaving you behind. And it was killing him.

Because all he could think about was you. Alone. Depressed. Hollowed out. Not wanting the baby. And he wasn’t there. He was never there. Every single time he put on that suit, stepped in front of the cameras, smiled for his co-stars. He was dying.

Because he knew. He knew the second he came home, you would be worse. Every day it got worse. Every fucking day.

At first, it was subtle. You were tired. Distant. Quiet. But then the days started stretching into weeks, and suddenly you weren’t just tired, you were empty. Your smiles were forced. Your voice was flat. You didn’t ask about his day anymore. You didn’t kiss him when he got home.

And Kento tried to justify it. It’s just the hormones. She’s overwhelmed. She’ll come back to me soon. She’ll come back to me.

But you didn’t.

And Kento broke down again.

Because the more days that passed, the less of you he saw.

You stopped eating dinner with him. You stopped holding the baby. You stopped getting out of bed. You wouldn’t look at him. And the worst part? You didn’t even cry. You just… stared. Blank. Numb. And Kento couldn’t handle it.

He fucking hated himself. Every single day he drove to set, his stomach would turn. He’d clench his jaw the entire time, his hands shaking as he held the steering wheel because he knew. You were at home. Alone. With a baby you didn’t love. And he wasn’t there. And the guilt was going to fucking eat him alive.

One night, Kento came home early. He couldn’t do it anymore. He was on set, trying to read his lines, but his hands were shaking. His mouth felt dry. His mind kept screaming to him: She’s alone. She’s not okay. She’s not okay. She’s not okay. Go home right now.

So he left. He didn’t even tell his manager. He just ripped off his mic and drove home. And when he walked through the door….You were just… sitting there. On the couch. Completely catatonic. Your body was slumped forward. Your eyes were glazed over, completely hollow. You weren’t blinking. You weren’t moving. You weren’t alive.

Baby?” His voice shattered.

Nothing. Kento’s heart slammed into his throat. He dropped his keys, his coat, everything, and sprinted toward you, falling to his knees in front of the couch.

“Baby, please….” his voice cracked. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs trembling as they brushed over your cheeks. “Please talk to me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

But you didn’t blink.

You didn’t look at him.

You just… stared at the wall.

Kento’s stomach lurched.

His throat closed.

And then you finally spoke.

In a voice so dead, so hollow, that it didn’t even sound like you anymore. “…I don’t want to be a mom anymore.”

“Baby,” his voice broke. He practically collapsed against you, his forehead pressing to your lap as his hands clutched yours. “Please don’t say that. Please, god—”

“I don’t.” you said flatly. Your voice didn’t even crack. It was just… dead. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want her. I don’t want anything.”

Kento’s entire body convulsed.

“Baby, no.” His voice split down the middle. His hands squeezed yours so tight his knuckles went white. “Please don’t talk like that. I know it’s hard. I know you feel alone. But I love you. I love our baby. We can fix this, baby. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.”

But you didn’t believe him.

Because the truth was — you didn’t want him to fix it.

You didn’t want help. You didn’t want therapy. You didn’t want him to stay home from work. You didn’t want him to coddle you or tell you it would get better.

You just wanted your old life back. You wanted school. You wanted chemistry. You wanted the future you spent years building. But instead, you were just Keiko’s mother. And you fucking hated yourself for it.

“I never wanted this.” you whispered numbly, your eyes glazed over. “I didn’t want to have a baby. I didn’t want to give up school. I didn’t want this life. And now it’s all I have.”

Kento couldn’t breathe. His chest split open. His hands shook violently as he tried to pull you closer, his head buried in your lap. “Please, baby….” his voice splintered. “Please don’t talk like that. I need you. Our baby needs you. We love you.”

But you didn’t respond.

You just kept staring.

Kento sobbed heavily.

His entire body convulsed. His shoulders shook. His throat ripped open as gut-wrenching sobs tore out of him. “I’m so sorry.” he gasped. His face buried into your lap, his tears soaking your clothes. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

And you didn’t comfort him. You didn’t hold him. You didn’t wipe his tears. You didn’t say anything. Because deep down, you hated him, too. You hated that he got to have a life. You hated that he still had his career. You hated that he still had a future.

And you, who you once knew?

You were just a mom.

You were trapped.

And you resented him for it.

YOU WENT AWAY FOR A LITTLE WHILE. It was a shut-in therapy. Somewhere far. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that felt detached from the life you had been drowning in. Kento made the arrangements. You didn’t ask him to but he just did it. One night, after finding you curled up in the corner of the nursery, crying so hard you couldn’t breathe, he made the decision himself. 

You don’t even remember how it happened — one moment you were screaming I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this life anymore, and the next, your husband Kento was quietly helping you with packing your bags.

“Baby….” his voice cracked, his hands trembling as he folded your clothes into a suitcase. “You need help. You need real help. And I can’t—” his throat choked up. “I can’t keep watching you like this. I can’t keep coming home to you like this. I need you to get better, baby. I need you.”

You didn’t fight him.

Because deep down, you knew.

You needed help.

And when you left, Kento didn’t cry. He didn’t break down. He didn’t beg you to stay. He just kissed your forehead, buckled you into the passenger seat, and drove you there himself. The drive was silent. But when you arrived and it came time for him to leave, you felt him break.

Kento clutched your hands so hard you thought he might shatter them. His forehead pressed to yours, his voice splintering as he begged. “Please come back to me. Please get better. Please..... I don’t care how long it takes, just please don’t give up on us.”

And then he left.

And you stayed.

And the first few weeks were hell.

You fought everything. The therapy. The group sessions. The self-reflection. The constant “how are you feeling?” The exposure therapy to bond with your baby. The “you’re not alone” pep talks from strangers who did not know you.

And every single night, you thought about calling Kento. You thought about screaming into the receiver I’m done, come get me, I can’t do this anymore, please just let me go home.

But you didn’t.

Because somewhere deep, deep, deep down, you wanted to get better. And slowly you did. It wasn’t linear. Some days were good. Some days were awful. Some days you held your baby in your arms and felt nothing. Some days you sobbed so hard that you thought you’d vomit. Some days you sat in the therapy circle, refusing to speak, refusing to participate, refusing to care.

But then some days, you looked at your baby and felt something. Not love. Not joy. But something. A tinge of warmth in your chest. A pang of protectiveness. And slowly, slowly, something began to grow. And then six months later, you came home. Kento was there, waiting for you.

The second you stepped through the door, his entire body crashed into you. His arms crushed you against him, his hands cradling the back of your head, his chest heaving as he sobbed harder than you had ever seen him cry.

“Baby!” he gasped into your hair, his voice cracking. “God, I missed you….I missed you so fucking much! I thought you’d never come back to me and Keiko.”

And you sobbed too.

Because you missed him. God, you missed him.

And that night, when you walked into the nursery and you saw your baby again for the first time in months. You cried harder than you ever had in your life. Because for the first time in a long while, you wanted her. And you didn’t hate her anymore.

But… the thing was, your relationship with Kento. It was never the same. You wanted it to be. You tried so hard. Kento tried, too. He was so patient. So gentle. So loving. But something between you both felt… off.

You had a hard time touching him. Being intimate with him. You couldn’t explain why but every time Kento kissed you, really kissed you, or ran his hands down your waist, or tried to pull you into his lap, your body would freeze.

Kento noticed. But he never pushed. He never said a word. He just waited. God, he waited. But the truth was you didn’t know how to give him that part of you anymore. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him. You did. You loved him so much. You adored him. You cherished him. You owed him your life.

But every time you tried to make love to him, it felt like you were reopening the wound. It felt like you were back there again. Heavily pregnant, crying yourself to sleep, suffocating in a life you didn’t want. And you hated it. You hated that your body betrayed you. You hated that you wanted to be with Kento, but the second he kissed you, you’d tense and apologize and turn away.

One night, he finally brought it up.

It was subtle. Careful.

“Baby…..” he murmured as you both laid in bed, his fingers brushing over your bare shoulder. “Do you… not want me anymore?”

And your heart dropped. “What?”

Kento swallowed thickly, his voice small. “You never touch me anymore. You never kiss me first. You… you flinch when I touch you sometimes. And I just…. I don’t know if it’s me or if you just… don’t want me anymore.”

“No — no, Kento, I do.” you sobbed, immediately turning to clutch his face in your hands. “I love you. I love you so much. I just…..I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to….. to be close to you. I want to. I really do. I just….”

Kento shook his head. “Baby, no.” his voice splintered. “It’s not your fault. God, it’s not your fault.”

But you still hated yourself for it.

Because every time Kento looked at you with that softness, that adoration, that undying love — all you could feel was guilt. Guilt for what you put him through. Guilt for resenting him. Guilt for pushing him away. And the fullness of the intimacy, it never really came back.

You tried.You forced yourself sometimes, letting him kiss you, letting him touch you — but it felt wrong. Not because of him. But because your body wouldn’t let you have it. Your body still remembers the trauma. Kento never blamed you.

But it killed him. Because every night he’d roll over in bed, aching for you but he wouldn’t touch you. He wouldn’t dare. He knew if he tried, you’d flinch. You’d shut down. And he couldn’t handle that. So, instead all he could do was just… love you from afar.

But how has that ever been enough?

THE FIRST TIME YOU FOUND OUT ABOUT KENTO’S CHEATING, IT WAS PURELY BY ACCIDENT. It must have been years later. After the therapy, after the recovery, after you slowly started piecing your life back together. Your daughter Keiko was already walking, already talking. You had gone back to school part-time, slowly finishing your chemistry degree. 

And your intimacy with Kento? It had started to come back. Well, not fully. Not like it used to be. But you were trying your hardest with everything. You wanted to make sure that you could do it again. Your husband was waiting, and he deserved it. He deserved your love so much more than anyone. 

You started off small. You started to hold hands and then you started kissing him again. You started letting him touch you again. You even started making love again. Though it still wasn’t what it once was. You didn’t initiate it. You didn’t crave it. You just… let it happen. Because you wanted to be close to him. You wanted to fix what was broken.

Yet, Kento was still distant. Not in the obvious way, no. Kento still loved you. Fiercely. Deeply. His hands were still gentle when he brushed your hair behind your ear. His voice was still soft when he murmured his devotions to you every morning. His kisses were still warm when he kissed you goodbye.

But in his eyes, you could see his eyes so clearly. His eyes always looked starved. Like he was still reaching for something you wouldn’t give him. Like no matter how hard you tried, it would never be enough. And deep down, you knew. You would never be able to give that to him ever again.

You saw it. Every night when he rolled over, half-hard in bed, but he wouldn’t touch you. Every morning when he’d linger in the shower, his back to you, his hand clenched into a fist. Every time you let him inside you, and you could feel the heartbreak in his touch, like he was still waiting for you to love him the way you used to.

And you hated yourself for it.

But you never thought…….

You never thought he’d cheat.

Until one day,  you saw the message.

You were on his phone. It wasn’t intentional. His phone was sitting on the coffee table while he was in the shower, and it buzzed. You didn’t think much of it at first — just a glance, a mindless reflex. But then you saw the notification. A text message. From a number you didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was married.”

And your blood ran cold instantly.

You froze as your pupils dilated.

Your hand shook as you unlocked his phone. His password was your anniversary, for fuck’s sake and when you opened the message thread… It was all there. The proof.

It was from months ago. At least half a year. Some random woman. The messages were fragmented. But clearly, Kento had deleted most of them. But there was enough. Enough to piece it together.

The first message was from her. “Hey, I had fun last night :) Let me know if you ever want to do it again.”

And then his response — curt. “I can’t continue on with this. I’m married. I love my wife. And….I have a daughter.”

Then her response. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again.”

And that was it. But it didn’t fucking matter. Because the implication was there. The truth was there. Kento had slept with her. He had fucked her. He had cheated on you. He decided to go on with this, swallowed by the need and by lust. 

And you just… You just sat there. Staring at the message. Feeling like the ground was ripped from beneath you. And the thing that destroyed you most was that you weren’t even surprised. Because you knew. You always knew.

You saw it in his eyes every single day. That hunger. That emptiness. That quiet, unspoken need for something you weren’t giving him. And you thought you were fixing it. You thought you were trying. But clearly… clearly it wasn’t enough. 

You didn’t confront him immediately. You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. You didn’t throw his phone at him the second he walked out of the bathroom. You didn’t do anything. You just… sat there. And thought about it.

And the longer you thought about it, the more it made sense.

Of course he cheated.

Of course he did.

You deprived him for years. You denied him your body. You made him watch you suffer, made him sleep beside you every night knowing he couldn’t touch you, made him ache for you in ways you never fulfilled. That’s the worst part. You understood. You understood why he did it. That was the part that made you nauseous.

Because the truth was you had already broken his heart long before he ever stepped out of your marriage. You had pushed him away for so long, turned cold for so long, denied him for so long — that at some point, he just stopped waiting.

And you didn’t blame him.

You hated him. God, you hated him.

But you understood.  And you still loved him.

What a foolish game for a wallflower to grow on.

And when he finally came out of the bathroom, his hair still damp, towel slung over his shoulder, flashing you that soft, tired smile. You didn’t say a word. You just kissed him. Hard. Desperate. Like you hadn’t just been crushed to death by your heartbreak.

You grabbed his face, pulled him down, crushed your mouth to his like you were trying to rewrite history. Trying to pretend like you didn’t know what you knew. Trying to convince yourself that he was still yours. Kento froze for half a second, shocked by your sudden affection but then his hands snapped around your waist and he melted into you.

“Baby….” he gasped against your mouth, his voice needy, aching. “Fuck….. what’s gotten into you?”

You don’t say a word to him. Instead, you just clung to him. Like if you held him tight enough, like you could somehow undo the fact that he had already been touched by someone else. You let him take you that night. Hard. Rough. Desperate.

You let him fuck you like he hadn’t been able to for years, you let him do as he pleased. You let him crumble into you. His mouth on your neck, his hands fisting your hair, his voice breaking as he gasped over and over —“I love you. God, I love you.”

And you let him. Because in some fucked up way, you felt like you owed it to him, after making him suffer for so long. You spent years starving him, depriving him of life. So it was only fair that he found his comfort somewhere else.…Right?

Yet you stayed up after all that love making, alone.

No, you knew the correct answer all along.

But you were just too much of a fool to say it out loud.

AND JUST LIKE THAT, IT HAPPENS ALL OVER AGAIN. Once again, you were pregnant with your second child.  It wasn’t planned. You never wanted any more children, after all that had happened. But it happened. Yet it wasn’t that surprising. In some ways, this was the only way you could find yourself taking revenge against him. To make him just as miserable as you again.

Just weeks after you found out about his cheating, after you spent night after night letting him have you in every way he wanted, desperately trying to reclaim him, trying to erase the touch of another woman from his skin. You found yourself standing in the bathroom again, clutching a positive pregnancy test. And your stomach dropped.

Because the second those two pink lines stared back at you, you knew. The cycle was about to repeat. The suffocating weight of motherhood. The slow erosion of your identity. The same cold distance that once consumed your marriage was about to happen all over again. And the worst part was that you couldn’t even blame anyone but yourself.

Because you let him touch you again. You wanted to feel wanted, and to take revenge. You wanted to erase every part of every other woman’s palm on his. You opened your legs for him, night after night, desperate to keep him anchored to you, desperate to make him forget about the other woman and now, you were paying the price.

And when you told Kento, he broke. But not in the same way he did the first time. Not with pure, unfiltered joy. Not with a beaming smile and hopeful eyes. No, this time, Kento’s face crumpled. Yet you know that look on his face. It was just like the first time.

“Baby—” his voice cracked. “You’re….. oh my god, you’re pregnant again?”

And the heartbreak in his voice killed you. Because you knew. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking we’re not ready. He was thinking not again. He was thinking I just got her back. And now, it is happening again. Yet, you just knew in the back of his mind, he was thinking this was his punishment. This is what he gets for being the worst man on the earth.

The sleepless nights. Postpartum depression. The intimacy issues. The slow unraveling of your marriage. And you could see it,  the fear in his eyes. Yet, your husband Kento pushed it down. Because he was Kento fucking Nanami. He was a husband. A father. A provider. And regardless of how horrified he was, he refused to let you see it.

So he smiled.

Or at least, he tried to.

Yet you both knew the truth.

That smile felt like the biggest lie.

“That’s amazing, baby.” he choked, his voice strained. “Another baby. That’s… that’s incredible.”

And then he kissed you, soft and hesitant, like he was forcing himself to be happy. And you felt it. You felt the hesitation. The dread. The underlying regret. But you didn’t say anything. Because you were the one who let it happen. And just like that, the cycle began again.

Kento started working more. He said it was to provide for the baby, but you knew better. You knew it was because he was terrified. Because he was already bracing himself for what was about to come for you to spiral again, for you to shut down again, for you to stop loving him again.

You tried not to fall into the same pit you did last time. You tried to stay upbeat. You tried to keep loving Kento — loving him hard enough to make up for the fact that he once touched another woman. You tried to be a good wife. You tried to be excited about the baby.

But slowly… it just happened again.

The nausea. The fatigue. The aching loneliness when Kento came home late. The bitterness when you saw happy women on campus who still had their futures. The slow, creeping resentment every time you looked at your growing belly and thought I didn’t want this.

And worst of all, you started pulling away from Kento again. Not on purpose. But your body remembered. Your body associated pregnancy with trauma, with pain, with suffering and so it shut down. You couldn’t help it. Every time Kento touched you, your skin crawled. Every time he kissed you, you flinched. Every time he tried to make love to you, you just froze.

Kento felt it.

He felt you slipping away.

He felt your body turning cold again.

He felt the weight of your touchless nights,

He felt your silent dinners, your empty stares again.

And you knew.

You knew it was happening all over again.

But this time — it was worse.

Now you couldn’t stop thinking about her. The woman he had slept with. The one he turned to when you couldn’t love him the way he needed. And every time Kento touched you, you couldn’t help but lay there and wonder over and over again.

Did she feel warmer than you?

Did she kiss him like she wanted him?

Did she make him feel loved in a way you never could?

Kento could see it.

He could see the way you recoiled when he reached for you. He could see the distance growing between you again. He could see the guilt burning you alive. And he hated himself. Because the truth was, he never stopped loving you.

Even when he cheated. Even when he fucked another woman. It was never about love. It was never about you. It was about the ache. The desperation. The years of feeling like he was losing you and just needing something to hold onto. Now he felt like he was losing you again.

And deep down, he knew.

You were never coming back to him.

Not fully. Not the way you used to.

And Kento was slowly breaking under the weight of it.

Because no matter how much he loved you, it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough to keep you from falling out of love with him.

This is the world you gave birth to Nanami Kenshin.

LIFE GOES ON AS THEY USED TO SAY. Twenty five years, two whole decades and a half of that since you and Kento had first stepped into this chaotic life together. And somehow, despite everything, you made it.

You had raised two kids, a boy and a girl. Your Keiko and your Kenshin. They were both smart, both stubborn, both carrying that unmistakable sharpness in their eyes that mirrored your husband as much as their compassion had been garnered from your heart.

In all that agony you had come to know in your life, the pair kept you busy with almost everything they could think of. Troublemaking, homework, soccer games, dance recitals, late-night fevers. Everything about it is the messy, beautiful chaos of parenting that somehow keeps you moving forward.

And then there was Kento’s career, near thirty years as a veteran in the industry. He had gone from being the promising newcomer to a household name. Red carpets. Magazine covers. Award ceremonies where his face shone on giant screens as he walked up to accept yet another trophy. The world adored him. Respected him. Envied him.

And you were right there beside him for all of it.

The photographers always wanted you in the frame. His beautiful wife, standing gracefully at his side, draped in sleek designer dresses and glittering jewelry. They loved the way you smiled for the cameras, how your hand always rested delicately on his arm, how you played the part of the elegant, unwavering woman who had supported her husband through it all.

And for a while, you convinced yourself that this was enough. 

That this life, this carefully curated image of family perfection, was what happiness was.

You learned to smile in interviews, to talk about Kento’s dedication as a father and how proud you were of him. You learned to navigate the world of high society — dinner parties with producers, mingling with other industry wives, slipping into that role of effortless charm and poise.

But behind all the glitz and glamour, it was lonely.

With two kids to raise, and a husband to care for, there was little for you.

There was no room for you to be the woman you are.

Kento was rarely home. Always on set, always in meetings, always flying across the country for some event or another. And when he was home, he was exhausted. Conversations grew shorter. His kisses felt rushed. The intimacy you’d once fought so hard to reclaim began to fade again — not because you didn’t want him, but because he was never there.

You kept yourself busy. Raising the kids. Managing the house. 

Smiling at galas, posing for cameras, over and over again. 

Playing the part of the perfect wife in a perfect marriage.

But sometimes, when the house was dark and the kids were asleep, you’d sit alone in the living room clutching an old photograph from years ago, back when Kento’s hair was still short and his smile still reached his eyes and wonder if this was all there was left.

And maybe it wasn’t enough.

But you told yourself it had to be.

Because you had already sacrificed too much to turn back now.

So, you didn’t think of anything when it broke out in the headlines.

Kento Nanami, the beloved actor, devoted husband, father of two had allegedly been caught cheating again after nearly twenty five years of marriage.

You sat at the kitchen table, having breakfast like normal. The morning sun spilled through the windows, the smell of eggs and coffee filling the air, and the faint sound of the television humming in the background.

“Sources say the woman in question is a production assistant from his latest drama series—”

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look up.

You just kept stirring your coffee, like the words meant absolutely nothing to you. Kento, on the other hand, was frozen. Fork halfway to his mouth. Face pale. Chest rising and falling like he was trying not to hyperventilate. And then, slowly, ever so carefully,  he turned his head and looked at you.

“…Are you alright?” His voice cracked.

And that’s when you smiled.

You smiled, soft and easy. Like none of it mattered. Like you weren’t currently listening to the entire nation gossip about your husband’s infidelity. Like you weren’t being branded the foolish, pathetic wife who stayed after her husband cheated twice. Like you weren’t dying inside.

And with a voice far too calm, you said, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kento’s entire face crumpled.

Because he knew.

He fucking knew.

That wasn’t real. That smile. 

That sweetness. That unbothered facade.

It was performative.

It was the same smile you gave him after your first child was born, when you were drowning in postpartum depression but still told him “I’m fine” over and over again.

It was the same smile you gave him one hundred times when he told you he was going to be late at home tonight, when he didn’t have to be. 

And now, now you are doing it all over again. Feigning nonchalance. Feigning strength. Feigning normalcy. And it destroyed him to bits beyond what he could stand.

“…Baby.” his voice cracked, his fork clattering against his plate. “You don’t have to…. I mean, we can talk about it if you want. I’ll….I’ll explain everything. I swear to god, it’s not what they’re saying—”

You laughed so heartily.

A soft, almost amused laugh.

And you took a sip of your coffee, still smiling. “I don’t need you to explain anything, Kento.”

His stomach dropped. “Wh–what?”

You met his gaze and your smile never wavered. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

And fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Kento’s mouth fell open. “Baby….no. It’s not like that….I swear I—”

“It’s alright.” You cut him off smoothly. Calmly. Almost too calmly. “Really. I don’t want an explanation.”

Kento visibly flinched. His heart was hammering so loud he swore you could hear it. “…You don’t?”

You shook your head, taking another bite of your eggs. “No. I’m just glad you had fun.”

And Kento lost it. 

“Baby….” His voice cracked violently, his chair scraping against the floor as he immediately dropped to his knees beside you, clutching your thigh like his life depended on it. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out again. Please, baby. Please yell at me. Cry. Scream. Break things. Just…. don’t act like you don’t care. Please. Please, baby, I know you care—”

You laughed again.

But this time — it was hollow.

“I don’t.” you said plainly, popping a piece of toast into your mouth.

And that broke Kento completely, you were sure.

“No, no, that’s not true.” his voice shattered, his grip on your thigh desperate. “You love me. I know you do. You still love me. Please don’t….don’t act like you don’t….. I’ll fix it, baby. I swear to god, I’ll fix it, I’ll—”

“Fix it?” you echoed, your voice soft. Curious. “Like you did the first time?”

Kento fucking froze. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Because you never talked about it. Ever. After his first affair, you never once brought it up. You forgave him in the silence. Or at least, you pretended to. You shoved it down, pretended it never happened, and let Kento crawl back into your arms without consequence.

Now you were smiling at him like he was nothing more than a pitiful stranger. “Your ears work fine, don’t they?”

“…I don’t know what to say.” he choked. His hands were shaking. His throat constricted. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please….please just tell me what to do. I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t—”

“Don’t what?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

The look in your eyes killed him.

“Don’t leave you?” you continued, your voice sickly sweet. “Don’t abandon you like you abandoned me when I needed you the most? Don’t make you feel like I loved someone else the way you made me feel for years?”

Tears burned his eyes. “Baby, please—”

“It’s fine, Kento.” You smiled again. “Really. I’m not mad.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You sipped your coffee. “I’m not anything.”

And Kento completely unraveled.

Because he could see it.

The way you looked at him now. Like he was just a man. Not your husband. Not your Kento. Not the love of your life. Just a man who happened to share your bed, your house, and your children. And it killed him.

“Do you still love me?” he finally choked out, his voice so small.

And you froze.

Just for a second.

But then you smiled again. 

Just as soft, sweet, cold as before.

“Of course, I do.”

And that was the sick part, wasn’t it?

You did. You still loved him. You loved him with your entire fucking soul. You loved him so much that it hurt. You loved him and you hated him with equal intensity. It was two sides of the same coin and it was tearing you apart.

And yet even if you do love him, you know what should be.

Kento didn’t deserve that love anymore.

And even if you have to act like you don’t love him, so be it.

Let him suffer the amount of suffering you had over that time.

So you kissed his forehead, brushed his hair back, and whispered. “You should finish your breakfast. You have work later.”

And then you stood up from your seat, cigarette on your lips.

And left him sobbing on the kitchen floor, lamenting.

You had errands left to run, after all.

A wife has too much to do, you know?

[sunsbaby]

ּ𓍯𓂃 dean winchester x fem!reader | MDNI

your fingers dig into dean's face, squishing his cheeks together. your hips grind against his roughly. pussy dripping onto his cock every time you push yourself off of it.

"please, princess– i..i wanna cum." dean whined his hands grasping onto your hips, yet he held little power over you.

this is all because he thought it was a good idea to blatantly flirt with a stupid blonde bimbo in front of you—typical dean trying to rile you up. but what he didn't take into account was things might not go as planned.

"shut up and take it, be a good boy and maybe i'll let you cum." your breath fawned into his face as you practically growled, hips slowing just to tease him.

small whimpers left his swollen lips, deans eyes were hooded over with lust. you'd reduced him to a fucked-out-whore. as soon as your pretty pussy took in his aching cock he knew he was done for. this feeling was different than any other time he sunk into your tight walls. he swore he almost came if it wasn't for the stern look in your eye.

"please 'm beggin' babydoll, let me fill you up.." he cooed, his thumb brushing against your hip. "i promise it'll feel nice, all warm with my kids." he coaxed, softly moving your hand from his no longer pressed together cheeks.

you tried to be strong, but his words took over—the sliver of power grasping over you tight. you sped up, incoherent moans and words flow into the air, which was thick with sex, your finger nails rake on his chest. red marks left in your wake as you slammed yourself onto his thick cock.

"mmm, dean! oh, baby, right there!" you practically screamed as his tip hit that sweet spot, making your orgasm come crashing down.

"there's my pretty baby.." he murmured as he came, his seed spilling inside you, coating your walls.

his cock created a bulge in your stomach as you panted on top of him—chest heaving and drool drippling down your chin. he thought you looked beautiful, it's a good look on you. he'd make you mad a thousand times over if it meant the night'll end like this..

sunny yaps! ITS BEEN A BIT SINCE I POSTED I THINK!! IM SORRY IVE BEEN BUSYY BUTTT I LOVE U ALL SMM

special tags! @bluemerakis @littlesoulshine @h8aaz @figthoughts @starzify

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[illbegottenfaith]

stuck with u

you get stuck in the Room of Requirement with a not-so-distant acquaintance and realise there's no where else you'd rather be (theo nott x reader)

all this loving you, hating you, wanting you...

a/n - ahh my first entry for hogmarch! I can't believe I'm finally writing a trope I used to devourrr as a (younger) teen and although 'stuck' tropes aren't my absolute favourites I like that I went for a little unconventional take on it :D I decided to blend the week 1 & 2 themes since im wayyy past the week 1 timeframe oops (midterms...) anyways this was so so fun to write cuz even 5 years on I love love loveee stuck with u ARGHH its so good so enjoy :)))

tropes/warnings - mutual pining, friends-ish to lovers, fluff, happy ending <3

word count - 2.5k

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf

You’d never been one to stick around - not when it came to people.

You had friends. Plenty of them, in fact. You’re easy to get along with, know how to fill the silences with laughter. But close friendships - the kind where you let them actually know you, the kind where you let them in, let them see something real - those have been few and far between.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of people. You just didn’t trust easily.

Most friendships, to you, felt temporary. People drift in and out of each other’s lives all the time, and you’d never seen much use in pretending otherwise. You kept things surface-level, just enough to be friendly. But the moment someone gets too close, asking questions you don’t want to answer, you pull away. Create distance before they can even get the chance to disappoint you.

But then there’s Theo. And, for some reason, he’s the only person you’ve never managed to push away.

Not that you haven’t tried.

In your first year, when you tripped down the last few steps of the dungeon staircase and sent your books flying, it was Theo who had crouched beside you, silently gathering them up, not a single snide remark on his lips as 11-year-old boys were prone to hand out. No, all you got was a faint smirk as he handed them back to you without a word, all while you gaped gormlessly at him.

In your third year, when you missed a week of classes after a particularly vicious stomach bug, it was Theo who had slid his notes across the table in Potions, muttering “don’t ask me to explain any of it” out the corner of his mouth. All the same, with every mildly incoherent word in his slanted, cursive handwriting, he was surprisingly cooperative in deciphering it for you.

In your fourth year, when you got hexed in the middle of the corridor and spent the entire afternoon with bright green hair, it was Theo who had walked you to the Prefects’ Bathroom, rolling his eyes as he mumbled something about how he “might as well supervise” before you inevitably made it worse.

And this year - your last year - he’s always there.

You don’t understand it. You don’t have the kind of friendship where you confide in each other, where you talk about things that matter. But somehow, Theo always seems to be around when it matters - watching with those observant, calculating eyes of his, offering help without making a big deal out of it, like he knows you wouldn’t take it if he did.

It’s a running joke now - one you always throw at him with a grin. You just can’t get rid of me, huh?

And every time, he huffs a quiet laugh. Apparently not.

The next time you get stuck with him is over spring break. Naturally, all your friends wanted to do was laze around the Common Room, half-dozing. Eventually, someone proposed the brilliant idea of fetching a game for a little intellectual stimulation, like Uno. Unfortunately, no one wanted to actually get up to get it other than you and Theo.

“This isn’t going to work,” you said. You and Theo were standing in an empty corridor on one of the higher floors, one where the Room of Requirement was rumoured to appear. He shushed you impatiently, his eyes still screwed shut as he thought long and hard about a deck of uno cards.

You sighed, waiting for him to get this over with. This close, you could see every individual eyelash of his, all of which were unfairly long. Really, it was a waste of a beautiful feature on a perfectly mediocre boy.

He finally opened his eyes, which almost immediately found yours. You hadn’t realised you were standing so close to each other. For a brief moment, you were struck by how pretty his eyes were - marbled, watercolour eyes that lent a softness to his otherwise strong, harsh features. Momentarily speechless, you looked away, following his line of sight over your shoulder.

Well, I’ll be damned, you thought. A door. An actual door.

Sure enough, it opened to a narrow, cavernous room filled to the brim with every board game you could dream up. The two of you wandered in, weaving in and out of stacks upon stacks of games. Once you picked out a suitable deck of Uno cards, you both meandered back to the entrance. Or what was the entrance.

You turned the corner of a stack, back to where the entrance was, only to see Theo standing with his back to you, his face hidden, fingertips ghosting a blank stretch of stone.

“Theo,” you started, stating the complete obvious, “why is there wall where the door is supposed to be?”

"I don't believe it," you heard him mumble disbelievingly under his breath. "It was here just a moment ago."

"You lost the door?" you cried out. He was starting to look a little green around the gills, his eyes darting to the other walls. He gave a weak, unconvincing laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous."

“Do something, Theodore!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Theo winced. “Quit yelling, would you?”

You sat down, slumped against the opposite wall, dragging a hand across your face. “Great. This is just perfect. We’re going to grow old and die and shrivel up in here and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault? If you had just waited by the door like I asked - ”

"You didn't tell me the door was going to disappear!"

"Yeah - well - it's never happened before." Theo dragged his hand out of his hair, now wildly sticking up in all directions, fingers trailing up the wall as if trying to feel for a hidden door. You scoffed.

"I told you we should have gone down to Hogsmeade to buy a deck, but no, you didn’t want to walk all that way.”

“Unlike you, I actually know how to work the Room.”

Theo turned just in time to dodge the Monopoly figurine you had hurled at his head.

"Then work it. Get us out of here."

--------

"Stop chucking things at me."

Grudgingly, you paused your assault. Half an hour ago, you had been ready to climb the walls and tear them down to get out of this place. Now, the craze had passed, so you settled for pelting Theo with all the tiny games figurines you could get your hands on while he paced wearily, trying to think of a solution.

“I’ll stop when we have an exit.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Theo turned back to the blank stone wall, muttering something under his breath as he pressed his palm against it. When nothing happened, he shoved both hands through his already-ruffled hair and swore under his breath.

Your eyes tracked his movements critically. “You have no idea how to get us out of here, do you?”

“Of course I do,” Theo shot back, a little too quickly.

"Right."

Five minutes later, he finally admitted defeat. He joined you where you were slumped in a corner, unsuccessfully trying to juggle the chess pieces. To your credit, you didn't say it, but your whole body language hummed with an undercurrent of I told you so.

"The Room's going to let us out when it wants to let us out," he said finally. "All we can do is wait till it feels like it."

He sounded so defeated you were starting to feel a little bad for being so hard on him. You sighed.

"I just can't believe we're stuck in here when everybody else is...you know, out there."

“Yes,” he said drily, “because there’s so many better places to we need to be. Merlin forbid we fall behind on our couch-rotting hours.”

You grinned as he picked up the deck of cards on your lap, starting to shuffle them.

"Might as well make the most of it while we're stuck here."

You raised your eyebrows as he started expertly manipulating the deck.

"Shuffling's the newest panty-dropper, eh?"

The corner of his mouth ticked upwards as his eyes remained fixed on the deck. "You'd be surprised."

You can practically see him puffing out his chest on the showier tricks he does with laser-focused concentration. It makes you want to laugh, his almost childish need to be impressive. To impress others. To impress you.

But, for reasons that eluded you, you were impressed. Not once had Theo ever let you down. It was as though he was incapable of it. You didn't exactly rely on him, but when he was around, his deep, self-assured voice was guaranteed to soothe your frazzled nerves. Even now, when all you wanted to do was bitch and moan about how you were never going to see the light of day again, he somehow managed to distract you, amuse you. Theo always knew how to turn a bad situation around and, well, to someone as catastrophic as you, what could sound more appealing?

Game after game, time began to blur. The cards whispered as they slid over each other in his hands, a hypnotic rhythm filling the silence between you. You let your head tilt back against the wall, exhaling slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little.

Your head lolled against your shoulder as you lazily watched Theo shuffle the cards for the umpteenth time.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you noted, tilting your head toward him.

He didn't look up from the cards. "A novel concept, I know."

You nudged him in the ribs and he gave an exaggerated wince.

"Watch it. There's no exit and I'm more than capable of beating your ass."

Theo laughed at that, openly and unabashed.

"You're going to beat my ass?"

"Just said I would, didn't I?"

Theo snorted, mumbling something somewhat affectionate under his breath. You turned away, hiding your grin. Your cheeks were pink and your eyes glittered with the thrill of being Theo's company - the only person who could keep up with you.

He continued shuffling the cards, a little slower now.

“I’m thinking.”

You looked back at him, once again interested. “Dangerous.”

He flicked a card at you without looking, and you batted it away with a grin. “Thinking about what?”

His shuffling slowed to a stop. “Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something.” You leaned even closer to him now, your knees brushing against his thigh. “Something broody and dramatic, I bet. Come on, spill.”

Theo exhaled through his nose. “Drop it.”

“Not a chance,” you chirped. "Just tell me what it is. Unless you’re scared.”

That got him. His jaw ticked, fingers tapping on the deck.

“Didn’t peg you for a coward, Nott,” you goaded, bumping your knee against his. “You can tell me.”

Theo let out a slow breath, his shoulders tensing. He shuffled the deck once more, but this time, his movements weren’t just for show. They were measured, thoughtful, almost like he was buying himself time.

You covered his hands with yours, stopping him. He glanced down to where the two of you were practically holding hands.

“If I tell you something, you have to promise not to laugh.”

You nodded. "Did you kill a man."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "No."

"Is it about the shuffling? Were you secretly roped into an underground gambling ring over the summer? Is that where you learnt all those tricks?"

You could tell he desperately wanted to smile but was stopping himself. "No," Theo said, his grip on your hand tightening.

"You started an underground gambling ring? Without me?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

You dropped your eyes to his crotch for a fraction of a second.

"Ach - not like t - that's not what I meant."

"I'm just messing with you." You ran a hand through his hair despite his desperate, one-handed attempts to bat you away. "Tell me already."

Theo hesitated. You became suddenly aware of how quiet the Room was. You felt an awful, sinking feeling in your stomach that maybe Theo was right. You weren't going to like what he had to say.

“I don’t mind being stuck here.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

He shifted beside you, tapping the deck of cards against his knee.

“I mean, yeah, it’s a bit ridiculous how we ended up here, but…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

“It’s not the worst thing in the world. Being here. Being stuck here. With you.”

You stared at him. His eyes shone with that stupidly optimistic sincerity of his that you only saw glimpses of from time to time. He meant every single word.

His grip slackened. Wordlessly, you retracted your hand. How were you to bear this?

"You're right," you said in a voice thick with unshed tears. "That is absolutely ridiculous. It's downright - " your voice quivered. You brushed a hand across your eyes. "Downright laughable."

A sobering silence followed. You wondered if Theo was kicking himself for having opened his mouth in the first place. You wondered if you should say something.

"You really don't mind this?" you started hoarsely. You tilted your head to face him. "You don't mind me? I mean, I pelted you with Monopoly pieces while yelling abuse at you. I messed up your hair."

His mouth curved into that faint, breezy smile of his.

"'Course I don't mind it."

"Why not?" You should.

"'Cause it's you." It's you. It's always been you.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You felt the exhaustion of being trapped in here catching up to you. You rested your head on his clavicle. Hesitantly, he turned his head to press his lips to your temple.

"I have to be honest, Y/N," he muttered against your hair. "I don't know if we're getting out of here."

"S'alright." You pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder. "There's nothing I'd rather than do, either."

It's what all this loving him, hating him, wanting him boiled down to. Interlacing his long, careful fingers with your own, you decided that yes, there was no one else you'd rather be stuck with.

[azuresaqua]

my everything

warnings + notes: phainon x reader, fluff, 1,1k words, phainon is whipped for you, minor spoilers to his lore?? i think + my third fic on this account IM CRYING WTF how have i only made 3 fics here art by shenteita on twt

tags: @somniachant

Phainon's past haunts him like a ghost. Memories of losing his family, friends, and hometown keep coming back to him every night he sleeps. Perhaps that’s why he’s unwilling to forge new relationships with people.

However, despite his past haunting him, Phainon finds himself in a predicament. You, a flower shop owner in Amphoreus, catch his attention. You and your passion for flowers make Phainon feel safe and comfortable. Your flower shop isn’t huge like the other famous shops in the city, but it is cozy enough that you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

The flowers are also one unique aspect of your shop, being the only flower shop in the city. Though, you must say, not that many people like to buy flowers anymore (not even for courting someone, which shocks you to your core).

The door to your shop flings open just as the clock strikes 3 pm, and you see the familiar white-haired figure walk into your shop. It’s a routine for Phainon to visit your shop every evening. Sometimes, you wonder to yourself why a Chrysos Heir would make daily visits to your small flower shop without buying anything, but you can’t bring yourself to question him over something like that.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Phainon gives you a smile, one that melts your heart instantly. “How has your day been?” That’s another thing with Phainon - he always asks about how your day went, and to be honest? You don’t find it bothersome at all. Usually, you find it annoying when people pester you about your day every five minutes, but with Phainon, you find it endearing.

“Good evening, Phainon,” you greet him back. “My day has been… okay, I think? I didn’t have that many customers today, but it doesn’t really bother me that much. Business has been slow for a couple of weeks now that Valentine’s is over.” You look back at your notebook, one that you keep to track customers and sales. “But I still have my regular customers coming in to pick up their flowers. How about you? How’s it going with the Chrysos Heir?”

“Ah,” Phainon lets out a small laugh. “Never been better, I think? Mydei and I had a little sparring match this morning, and of course, I won.” You have a small inkling he might be lying, but you don’t comment on it. “And then I spent the rest of my day in my room. Boring, huh?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply. Phainon looks at you, confused. “I mean, ever since the disaster started, you barely got any sleep, right? So I think it’s good you were doing nothing today.”

“Huh,” Phainon says. “Never thought of it that way.” He smiles at you again. “Oh, right! Back to the matter at hand, I need some flowers.”

You blink, surprised. Phainon buying flowers? Now, that’s new. “Oh, what kind of flowers? Are you planning on confessing to someone today?” you tease, hoping it’s not true.

“Um, actually… yes.” Phainon’s response shatters your heart.

Oh… so you do have someone you like. You think to yourself, and you quickly mask your hurt with a shocked expression, not wanting Phainon to feel guilty. “That’s new! So, who’s this lucky person?”

Phainon blushes, and you can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. “You’ll see later. Now come on, what are some flowers I can buy?”

“Hmm,” you hum, flipping through your notebook containing flower meanings (yes, you still rely on notes; you have a terrible memory). “How about red tulips?” You walk over to the tulips, pick out a bouquet, and hand it to Phainon. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Phainon’s eyes shine with excitement. “Ah, they’re definitely gorgeous. What do they symbolize?”

“Endless love,” you state. “I think it’s perfect for you and that lucky person.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Phainon mutters, staring at the flowers as he envisions giving them to the person he loves. “How much are they?”

“They’re on the house,” you reply, and Phainon is about to protest, but you cut him off. “They’re on the house, Phainon. Don’t argue with me now,” you repeat, huffing to mask the hurt. “Now go and confess already!”

Phainon blinks a couple of times before smiling brightly. “Okay, thank you, Y/N. Truly.” He leaves, and as soon as he’s out of sight, you sigh. Another crush of yours failed.

The rest of your day passes more slowly than usual. As expected, no one else comes in after Phainon leaves, so you decide to close the shop early.

As soon as everything is locked up, you’re surprised to see Phainon standing behind you, still holding the red tulips you gave him. “...Phainon? What are you doing here? Oh no, did the confession not go well? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Um,” he starts a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t confess yet, actually.”

“Huh? Why?” you ask, confused. “Did they not show up?”

“No… they’re actually right here,” Phainon says, and when you don’t catch on, he lets out a small laugh. “Y/N, I’m saying I was waiting for you to close the shop so I could confess to you.”

“Oh,” you say, and then it hits you, causing you to gasp. Your cheeks turn red as you cover your mouth. “Wait- huh?!”

“I like you, Y/N-”

“No, wait, stop!” You turn around, covering your face. “I wasn’t- I thought-”

“Was this a bad time...?” Phainon asks innocently, making you turn back around. “Sorry-”

“No, don’t be sorry! I just- I wasn’t expecting this! I really thought you had a crush on someone else, so I felt hurt, and that’s why I gave you those flowers for free, so I wouldn’t have to see you all smiley about them!” you ramble, stopping only when Phainon bursts out laughing. “What’s so funny?!”

“You’re adorable, Y/N,” he says. “So that’s why you made me leave so quickly.” He stretches out his hand holding the flowers towards you. “So? Will you accept me as your boyfriend now that you know this is for you?”

“Phainon, you big dummy,” you sigh, laughing at your own foolishness. “Yes, yes I do.” Phainon smiles so brightly it almost blinds you. You take the flowers from his hands, and even though they're from your own shop and garden, you accept them as if they're from somewhere else. Aeons above, Phainon looks so cute smiling at you like that.

“Since you decided to close the shop early tonight, want to go on a mini-date? We can take a stroll around the city if you’d like,” Phainon suggests. Normally, if anyone else suggested this to you, you'd decline immediately, wanting to go home and tend to your growing plants. But this is Phainon, your boyfriend (you let out a giddy laugh in your head).

“Of course,” you agree. “Where do you want to take me?”

“Hmm, I think we can stop by your favorite restaurant first for some dinner, and then we can go to…” Phainon starts listing almost every date spot in Amphoreus, and you can only look at him with adoration in your eyes.

[softness-and-shattering]

The thin model has a fun, energetic pose, cute styling, bright background, interest, personality. Belly showing.

The fat model has no belly showing, the accompanying skirt looks way worse - did they not have the same faded denim in plus sizes? The shoes are ok but no fun hair no fun expression due to the aforementioned lack of head. And their pose looks super awkward, Im almost expecting it to become a T-pose, its like baby artists first pose that isnt straight with arms at the sides. Which is fine for a newer artist, its not fine for an ad especially compared to the oodles of personality in the first image. Its like a dress up game pose and not in a good way. As if everyone working on the photoshoot got so awkward about a bit of body fat that all artistic principles flew out their heads and they had her stand like it was her first day in a human suit.

The shirt is also just too small. Look at the above boob/armpit wrinkles. Its fairly tight around the chest and not in a sexy or even deliberate-looking way. I wonder if she's standing oddly because she cant lift her arms, theres no armpit movement room. Compare to the fit on the skinny model, theres plenty looseness around the shoulders, the fabric just skims the chest and hangs nicely just a little away from the body.

The length on the fat model also doesnt sit like a crop top and isnt styled like a crop top, it just looks too short on her. That skirt is not flattering at all on her and it just draws attention to her weird stance. That shirt is just plain too small, she needs at least one or two sizes bigger. Have her legs been edited? She looks off balance. Usually the leg taking the most weight, if weight is balanced unevenly, is under the centre of balance, is basically in the middle of the body, and the leg taking less weight is out to the side. Try it for yourself, stand in front of a mirror, take your weight evenly and then adjust to have most weight on one leg and look at how your body shifts to not fall over. Theres an amount here of skirt flaring away from the body and disguising where the hips are. Also... the straight leg is her left leg should be the one taking the weight, but it also looks further back which doesnt make any sense, and it looks too far to the left to match her hip. If the skirt is disguising hip placement then she has to be wearing something under her shirt because shirt/side lines up with skirt. I think theyve made her leg smaller and adjusted the placement. Is it absurd to think they swapped in someone elses legs entirely? Maybe they tried to edit out wobbly fat? Id be interested to speak to the model. Bodies are ofc all unique but this looks edited on top of the shirt being too small on top of zero styling and decapitation. This is just awful. If thats how the top might look on me Im not buying it, or Im at least upsizing by two maybe 3 sizes.

Well I was about to get excited and tell people about another new item that Hot Topic is again for some reason releasing for Steven Universe in the year 2025 but I got distracted by how irritated I am about the presentation.

This new star ringer baby tee comes in straight sizes and plus sizes (for uh five bucks more). Anyone who's ever tried to buy plus sizes is used to seeing the fat tax, and I get that some people offer explanations like "they need more material tho" and "they're not as in demand." Whatever, I'm not a marketer. But I do wanna know why Hot Topic is now doing the Headless Fatty thing.

Look at the difference in how these products are presented.

Straight-size model gets several cute shots with their face as part of the presentation. Plus-size model has their face cut off in ALL shots. (And I checked--if you blow these up, you still can't see a full shot of this person.)

One thing you'll learn if you ever check out how heavier people are presented in news stories (usually with alarming voice-over about the obesity epidemic) is that when they film fat people, they cut off their heads and just show their body. It's pretty dehumanizing and weird.

I'd love if the product photos on Hot Topic's site could do a better and more consistent job of showing what plus-size clothing they have in a way that's similar to how they present their straight-size clothing. Especially since there are many, MANY people who need the plus sizes that I know in these fan communities and would probably love to give Hot Topic their money if they stock the right sizes. I've been so delighted to keep seeing new designs and things for Steven Universe coming out from Hot Topic and it just really a let-down when I see stuff like this.

(And though I know I don't know this model's story and do not in fact know whether they asked to be anonymized, it's generally unlikely most of the time that someone who is a MODEL doesn't want their photo out there, and the "headless fatty" phenomenon is a thing regardless of whether an individual example fits the typical profile.)

[navydoves]

LADs Men as Rockstars 🎸

In another world, your love interest is renowned in the rockstar scene.

a/n: i want to write individual rockstar stories for the LIs but im not sure who. each LI will have their guitar type next to their name for you guys to search up! but i don’t know rock/band terminology tho, bare with me.

⭐︎

⭐︎

⭐︎

Xavier — Star Guitar

❥ xavier in a rock band is dangerous. he looks very gentle and soft, sometimes making the crowd think that his bunny-face is out of place in dark make-up and punk-esque clothing. but they couldn’t be more wrong, xavier was right where he needed to be. xavier found great pleasure in being up on the stage because for once he was choosing what to do with his life, and he wasn’t holding back.

❥ defying his normal tender voice when talking to crowds, he growls on stage. not just a little growl here and there, he fully growls into the mic when he gets passionate enough. the amount of energy he has onstage is second to none, there’s a reason why he’s the head of the band. the noise startles people a little bit once they realize it’s coming from xavier, but it’s a sound that fuels the crowd’s passion.

❥ on stage, his shaggy hair always gets in his face while he’s moving around and shaking his head, especially when sweat coats him and those silver strands get stuck to his forehead. this look is appreciated by fan photographers because it makes for sexy shots of his piercing blue eyes peeking out between his hair. he’s like a wolf in bunny clothing and that gruffness only comes out on stage.

❥ he also humps his guitar bad. xavier is one of those performers that gets a little aroused and eager while on stage, especially when he shreds his guitar. something about the ripping of the cords, the pain of the strings on his fingers, the melody in his veins, and the bass of the song thumping in his chest—god he can’t help himself. he humps his guitar as he plays, tiling his head back and groaning softly. the fans eat it up every. single. time. talk about sex appeal.

❥ xavier only ever uses one guitar and one guitar only. it’s a sleek blue one with yellow and white accents on its sides and face with one singular yellow star tassel attached to the headstock. he calls his guitar the star of the show and a has severe emotional attachment to it. he tunes it regularly and has an upkeep routine for it so he can ensure it’s ready to preform at its fullest for his lovely crowds.

❥ off the stage, xavier is rather shy. it’s almost crazy how different his two different personalities are. he never declines autographs or selfies with fans, but also shows no favoritism to any of them. he’s soft spoken and giggles softly into the mic whenever he asks the audience how his band did. and when the overwhelming majority screams in approval he blushes and smiles to himself.

“thank you all for coming, i do everything for you.”

Rafayel — Z-body Guitar

❥ rafayel is the absolute loudest on stage, but he also has the prettiest vocals. while he does let out a growl here and there, he sticks to singing and adlibs. unbeknownst to many, though, rafayel can hit incredibly deep bass notes making his range insane. he lives for the attention on stage, so showing off his vocal skills is a given at any show.

❥ rafayel is also a very big hype man. crowd too quiet? he’ll scold them and hype them up with just a few chants. he refuses to play for crowds that don’t sing along or make sufficient noise. why are you even here if you aren’t gonna truly enjoy what his band has to offer? his enthusiasm is what made him famous in the rock world, that and his incredible multifaceted skills.

❥ rafayel fucks with every instrument. drums, keys, the microphone. he only prefers the guitar because he finds it the easiest to play, making it the instrument that needs the least attention from him. he prefers his attention to be on his cuties.

❥ rafayel calls all his fans cuties. theres no discrimination with rafayel, he’ll give fan service to any fan boy or girl if they ask nice enough. blow a kiss? he’ll blow hundreds. stray loc of his hair? he’ll see if any loose strands fall out. titty grab? one squish for you. he’s a man for the people!

❥ rafayel also likes wearing revealing outfits onstage. sure, he’s not going full cock and balls out, but sometimes it’s damn near. he’ll wear slits on his upper thighs and opt for crop tops instead of wife-lovers. he’s also a fan of tight leather because he thinks it shows off his body. sometimes that isn’t necessary though, ‘cause he’ll end up half naked by the end of the show anyway. he likes showing off the various medusa and fish tattoos he has on his chest and back.

“you guys liked the show? yeah? be back tomorrow night then, i wanna see all your faces again, cuties!”

Zayne — Iceman Guitar

❥ zayne’s quite the enigma in his band. he only started a band to branch out from his classical music career. not used to the rock scene, he opted to stay in the back while the rest of the band mates took charge. it was only until he started to gain more traction as the “sexy guy in the back”, that he learned the exhilaration that came from being in front of an approving, loud crowd.

❥ zayne is also uncharacteristically good at guitar, it’s almost insane. any new song, new riff, new tuning, he learns with quickness and ease. he shreds like a monster and always has the anticipatory riff solos in the lives shows. every play has him feeling deep satisfaction that resonates within his performances and keeps the crowd’s eyes on him.

❥ he attracts people. he always stays in the same two spots on stage, either up right or up left, but usually no where else. but despite his stagnant position, people are drawn to him and his performance. he’s remarked as “hypnotizing” and “unintentionally erotic” whenever he plays, despite him rarely saying words apart from the occasional adlibs.

❥ during live shows he’ll grab a bottle of water and spill it atop of his head and shake it off. the feeling of the cool water dripping down his hair and face was nice, but was even nicer was the scene of it. out of breath and sweaty already, zayne newly covered in water what was dripping down his neck was a sight that could her anyone wet—man or woman. but zayne never knows just how erotic he is, which makes it all the more better knowing that he’s not trying to be sexy. he just is incredibly sexy.

❥ zaynes popularity surprises zayne himself, sometimes. he’ll get bombarded by fans outside venues asking for his signature or picture which strokes his ego internally. in the beginning he felt overwhelmed, but nowadays he just smirks and nods at his fans. he actually loves the rockstar life, he loves the attention, he loves the cockiness that comes with it, but he stays modest.

“ah… it’s always hard knowing what to say when we close a show, but i’m very grateful you all are here. i hope im not selfish in asking for more of your support.”

Sylus — Mockingbird Guitar

❥ sylus was not only born into the rockstar life, but also born for it. he fucking loves the stage, the crowds, the music, the passion of it all. he loves the power that comes with leading such a riveting and notorious band. he’s also front and center and refuses to leave that spot unless there’s a specific formation needed. otherwise, the main guy is always him.

❥ just like xavier, sylus is a big growler. he likes baring his teeth in a smile and letting out low rumbles of sounds that shake people’s chests more than the speakers do. his guitar follows suit and is always the one with the most powerful bass and sound throughout the band. calling sylus a powerhouse was an understatement, he is power incarnate when on stage.

❥ sylus’s signature look on stage is shirtless with a simple open leather jacket on. he shows just enough to keep people wanting more but not enough to give away everything. he’s a major tease and likes edging the crowd in more ways than one. he’ll purposely plan the delay of a beatdrop or riff just to get people antsy in their shoes before blasting them with sounds that can give someone an eargasm.

❥ sylus also has a small problem with getting turned on mid-show. it’s not something he realizes until someone points how there’s a large erection print on his pants, but he simply smiles at it and moves on, not caring enough to hide himself from everyone. he thinks shame is for losers who care about what other people think. so what if his cock is also making an appearance? just makes for a better show.

❥ sylus adores his fans. he’ll playfully flirt with them or dote on them in meet and greets but he knows not to take anything too seriously. he’s the typa of guy who’d have the reputation of being a playboy, but in reality, he’s very reserved. he spends most of his time outside of shows in his garage making music or in a friend’s basement playing poker like a nerd. the number thing his band mates tell him is how much pussy he could be drowning in, but sylus’s biggest wish is finding someone he could be loyal to.

“playing for you all never gets old, in fact it gets more exciting each and every time. i need more of you guys and i bet you all need more of me, right? haha… why don’t you find me at my next show?”

Caleb — Rickenbacker 381 Guitar

❥ caleb is quite the heartthrob of his group. popularity always seemed to follow him in social circles, and the rock scene was no different. he was never intended to be the leader of his group, but his charming personality and quick wit seemed to unite the members in times of need—bestowing him the leader. it’s the same on stage too. any potential rough or heckling crowds? just a playful scolding and smile was all it took to make people focus back on him.

❥ his role on stage is mainly main guitarist, but caleb serves powerful vocals when he needs to. he has a rich, powerful, and emotional voice that may not growl often, but does bring passion to the people. he can also go melancholy and almost romance the audience with his soothing low tones. the versatility of caleb makes him a renowned rocker, but he downplays his skills often for modesty’s sake.

❥ he’s very playful. he’ll do call and responses with the audience and take extra long with each fan in meetings while chatting very casually with them. he’s even tried to do crowd surfs but people complain about his heavy ass, big ass body. caleb doesn’t give off “celebrity” vibes, but instead, “boy next door.” it adds to his appeal because he always comes off very genuine and dedicated rather than cocky and dismissive.

❥ going back to the heartthrob point, caleb is known as a flirt due to his charm points. his winks, smiles—just the way he strums his guitar like he’s pleasuring a woman gets the girls (and guys) swooning for him. half of the time his charm is intentional and half of the time it’s not. sometimes his mannerisms on stage—like the way he rocks his body against the mic stand as if he were slow dancing—are all just throes of passion that manage to capture the hearts of the crowd.

❥ he does love his fans, though, and would go to many lengths to keep them happy. he’s very strict on not entertaining weirdos that paw at him, but he’s very tender with those who show genuine care. even if you were a new fan, caleb would give you an entire rundown on rock history and why he does what he does if he has the time to. he truly does feel sad saying goodbye to everyone.

“aw man, end of the show already? i felt like i was just getting started… please let me see you all again in our next concert, i’m not done giving you the performance of a lifetime.”

⭐︎

⭐︎

⭐︎

a/n: i won’t lie, the entire time i was writing this i had this image in mind:

[kiszjuli]

𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ──── [𝐋.𝐃𝐇] 𓈒  𓈒  𓈒 

( 이동혁 ) ; 𝐟𝐞𝗺!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝗼𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐜𝐤

──in which your parents had always told you to stay away from boys like haechan. boys with cocky smirks, black eye liner, bruised knuckles, and a reputation that came with warning labels. you never had a reason to listen until you were assigned to tutor him after school. it should have been simple. help him pass, get it over with. but there’s something about him that drew you in, and you didn’t want to pull away.

✦ drama, fluff/angst, slow burn(ish). forbidden love? ; tags. goodgirl!reader x badboy!haechan, suggestive, your parents are literal jerks, swearing, mentions of fighting, kissing !!, protective!haechan, corruption? but not really , lmk if i missed any !

𓂃 w.c [ 7.4k / 22.7k ]

!! not proofread !!

▸ j.note ; woahh i didn’t expect you guys to like this gif so much but im glad you did! i hope this lives up to the rest of the strontium happy reading !! also pls pls give feedback i want to improve my writings in the best way possible and i know my writing needs a lot of work, so constructive criticism is encouraged.

▸ this is part two of two and part one can be found here .ᐟ (please read it first)

© kiszjuli 2025 ⟳ likes & reblogs are appreciated

your heart in your throat, your breath shallow as your mom stands in front of the both of you in the living room. ironically, the first time haechan was on there. she was watching you and haechan like she's just discovered the most unforgivable thing. the two of you are frozen, your lips still tingling from the kiss that was abruptly interrupted.

"what the hell was going on here?" your mom's voice cuts through the stillness, and you can see the flicker of shock and anger in her eyes. her gaze darts between you and haechan, her lips pressed into a thin line. the tension in the air is suffocating.

haechan steps back, but his eyes don't leave you. he looks like he's about to speak but holds back, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

your mom's gaze flicks from him to you. "this is what i've been worried about," she says, her voice sharp. "you're not a child anymore, but you're making reckless decisions. boys like him-they don't care about you."

your chest tightens. "you don't even know him," you reply, though your voice trembles slightly.

she shakes her head, disbelief written across her face. "i know enough." she takes a step into the room, her eyes narrowing. "you can't see it now, but you will. he's trouble, and if you keep going down this path-"

"mom, stop," you cut in, your voice rising before you can stop it. "this is my choice."

the room is thick with tension. haechan stands silently off to the side, still processing what's happening, his hands balled into fists at his sides. he's been silent, waiting for your mom to finish, but you can see the frustration on his face as she continues.

"you need to leave," your mom commands, her voice icy, cutting through the air like a knife.

haechan takes a breath, his chest rising and falling sharply. he's about to turn away, about to leave, when you step forward.

"wait," you whisper, a sharp sting of regret flooding through you. you didn't want this. you didn't want him to leave-not like this.

haechan stops, turning slowly back toward you, confusion written across his face. he doesn't speak, but the look in his eyes is soft, almost too soft for a situation like this. you take a step closer to him, your heart racing, and in a moment of vulnerability, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

"i'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible, feeling the heat of his skin against your cheek. the words feel heavier than you expected, like a weight you didn't know you'd been carrying.

for a moment, neither of you moves, just standing there in the fragile silence of your embrace. then, he leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, "i'm not going anywhere, you know."

his voice is quiet, but there's a certain determination in it that makes your heart skip a beat. you want to say something, anything, but before you can, your mom interrupts.

"you need to go," she insists, her voice breaking through the moment.

reluctantly, you pull away from haechan, your hands lingering on his shoulders for just a second longer than necessary. you glance at your mom, who's watching you with a look of disappointment, and then back at haechan.

he takes a deep breath, eyes meeting yours one last time. "i’m sorry too," he says softly, his lips curving into a small, wistful smile that only you see.

without another word, he turns toward the door. you watch him leave, the weight of your mom's disapproval heavy in the air. but just before he steps out, he pauses and looks back at you once more, his gaze full of quiet determination. it's a look that says, i'm not giving up on us, even if everything else feels like it's falling apart.

the door clicks softly behind him, and you're left standing there, your heart racing, the silence in the room almost deafening. your mom's disappointment lingers, but you can't shake the feeling that whatever this is with haechan is far from over. "what did i tell you?" your mom's voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and furious. "how did he even get in here? you are grounded for... until i say so! now go to bed. your father and i will deal with you in the morning."

well, fuck.

—

after your mother’s furious words, the weight of reality settles over you. your heart is still racing, your skin still tingling from the way haechan had touched you, but now it’s mixed with something colder. hame, fear, the undeniable knowledge that you’ve been caught.

without another word, you turn on your heel and head to your room, shutting the door a little too forcefully behind you. you lean against it, exhaling shakily, trying to process everything. grounded indefinitely. your parents furious. and yet, all you can think about is the look in haechan’s eyes before he left—the quiet promise, the way he lingered just a second longer, like he didn’t want to leave you behind.

you pace the room, hands running through your hair, restless. you’re supposed to feel regret, supposed to feel ashamed, but instead, something else burns in your chest. defiance. yearning. maybe even something close to a thrill. because for the first time in your life, you aren’t just following the rules. you’re chasing something you actually want.

climbing into bed, you grab your phone from under your pillow, half-expecting a message from haechan. nothing. you sigh, staring at the dark ceiling, but just as you’re about to put your phone away, it vibrates in your palm.

[1:42 am] haechan: you still awake sunshine?

despite everything, a small smile tugs at your lips. you hesitate, but only for a second before replying.

[1:43 am] you: i hate you.

[1:43 am] haechan: no, you don’t.

[1:44 am] you: i’m grounded until further notice.

[1:44 am] haechan: damn. worth it though, right?

[1:45 am] you: go to sleep.

[1:45 am] haechan: not until you do.

you roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the way your lips curve up, no denying the warmth spreading through your chest. you sigh, setting your phone on your chest, staring at the ceiling. you should be panicking about what’s to come, but instead, all you feel is him.

and maybe that’s the most dangerous part of all.

—

you wake to the sound of voices just outside your door—your parents, low but firm, clearly waiting for you to come out and face them. sunlight spills through the blinds, too bright, making your room feel smaller than usual. for a moment, you consider staying in bed, pretending to still be asleep, but you know that won’t work. you’re trapped, and you might as well get it over with.

dragging yourself out of bed, you pull on a hoodie over your sleep shirt and take a deep breath before opening the door. your parents are already at the kitchen table, your mom with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, your dad with a weary look, like he’s already disappointed before you’ve even said a word.

“sit.” your mom’s voice is clipped, no room for argument.

you sit.

the silence is heavy, thick with tension. then she takes a deep breath

“what were you thinking?” your mom demands, shaking her head. “letting that boy into your room, sneaking around behind our backs—do you have any idea how reckless that is?”

you bite the inside of your cheek, gripping the hem of your hoodie. “nothing happened.”

your dad exhales sharply, rubbing his temple. “nothing happened this time, because i walked in. but what about next time? do you even know what kind of trouble you’re getting yourself into?”

trouble. the word lingers in the air like smoke. you’ve heard it before, always in the same breath as haechan’s name. boys like him were nothing but trouble. you know that’s what they think. maybe it should be what you think too.

“we’ve warned you about him,” your mom continues, voice softer now, but no less serious. “he’s not—he’s not the kind of boy you should be involved with.”

you flinch, something defensive curling in your chest. “you don’t even know him.”

“we don’t need to know him,” your dad says, exasperated. “his reputation speaks for itself.”

you shake your head, frustration bubbling up. they don’t understand. they never have. if they knew the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel alive in a way nothing else ever had, maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to judge.

but they won’t listen. they never do.

your mom’s words settle like a weight on your chest. “you’re grounded. no phone, no going out. and we don’t want to hear another word about him.”

you stare at the table, jaw tight. the sessions were already over, but that wasn’t really the point. they wanted him out of your life completely. like he was some kind of bad habit you just needed to quit. like he wasn’t already tangled up in your thoughts, in your pulse, in the way your skin still burned from where he touched you.

“do you understand?” your dad asks, voice even but firm.

you swallow hard and nod, because it’s easier than fighting. because you know they won’t listen.

but as you sit there, hands clenched in your lap, you realize something.

they can take away your phone. they can take away your freedom. they can make rules and set curfews and keep a close eye on you.

but they can’t change what’s already happened.

they can’t change you.

—

monday feels different.

the hallways are the same, the usual chaos of students dragging themselves through the first day back after break, but you feel off. like you’re walking through a version of your life that doesn’t quite fit anymore.

it’s the lack of your phone, mostly. no morning texts, no unread messages waiting for you, no way to check if he even tried to reach out again. your parents had taken it first thing saturday morning, and the silence had settled in fast.

you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. that a few missed texts aren’t the end of the world. but as you step into the building, scanning the crowd without meaning to, you already know who you’re looking for.

and then—there he is.

leaning against the lockers like he always does, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as he listens to something one of his friends is saying. but his eyes aren’t on them.

they’re on you.

your breath catches, your steps faltering just slightly before you force yourself to keep moving. to act like everything is fine, like your parents didn’t just rip away the one thing tethering you to him over break.

but then he pushes off the lockers, shoving his hands into his pockets as he starts toward you, gaze dark and unreadable.

you barely make it to your locker before he’s there, sliding in beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“so,” he drawls, leaning in slightly, voice low enough that only you can hear. “thought you were dead for a second.”

you sigh, spinning your lock with unnecessary force. “my parents took my phone.”

he hums, like that explains everything.

“figured they’d do something like that,” he says, and when you glance at him, there’s something knowing in his expression, something frustrated. “so what, they think ignoring me is gonna make me disappear?”

you exhale sharply, finally yanking your locker open. “i don’t know what they think.”

he watches you for a second, then suddenly reaches out, fingers brushing against your wrist before you can move away. it’s quick, barely even a touch, but it’s enough to make you freeze.

“meet me after school,” he murmurs. it’s not a question.

you hesitate. it’s stupid, reckless. risky. and you should probably say no.

but you don’t.

you just nod.

—

the rest of the day crawls by, every second stretching longer than it should. you go through the motions—taking notes, nodding at the right times, pretending to listen—but your mind is elsewhere. stuck on him. on what you agreed to. on the way his fingers skimmed your wrist like he knew you wouldn’t pull away.

when the final bell rings, your heart stutters.

you could go home. act like today was normal, like nothing is pulling you in the opposite direction. but your feet have already made the choice for you, carrying you through the crowded halls, out the side doors where the air is crisp with early spring.

he’s there, waiting. leaning against the brick wall, one foot propped up behind him, hoodie pulled over his head. but the second you step outside, he straightens, dark eyes locking onto yours.

“thought you might chicken out,” he muses, lips curling at the corners.

you cross your arms, tilting your head. “thought you might get bored and leave.”

he grins, slow and lazy, but there’s something sharper beneath it. “not a chance.”

you exhale, glancing around. “so? where are we going?”

he nods toward the parking lot. “just walk with me.”

you hesitate. not because you don’t want to—because you do, more than you should. but this is dangerous, walking this line when you know exactly where it leads.

then his fingers brush yours again, like earlier, but this time he doesn’t pull away. just hooks his pinky around yours, barely holding on, like he’s leaving the choice up to you.

“come on, sunshine,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, rough at the edges. “just for a little.”

and that’s all it takes.

you don’t say anything, just step forward, closing that last bit of space between you. letting him lead you somewhere you probably shouldn’t go.

—

he leads you deeper into the park, past the usual paths and toward a hidden trail. the air shifts around you, growing quieter as the city noises fade into the distance. soon, you find yourself surrounded by towering trees, their branches swaying gently, the leaves rustling softly as though the earth itself is breathing with you.

you stop at the edge of a small pond, its still surface reflecting the warm, amber glow of the early afternoon sun. everything around it seems to settle into a peaceful hush, as if the world outside this moment has no place here.

he turns to you, and for a second, you’re not sure whether he’s showing you the pond for your sake or his. “this is where i come when i need to clear my head,” he says, his voice lower now, almost reverent. he gestures toward the water, his gaze lingering on the surface. “it’s quiet. no one bothers me here. i can just think.”

you take a deep breath, inhaling the earthy, fresh air. it’s hard to reconcile this calm, serene version of him with the boy who’s been impulsive, reckless, and unpredictable. yet, somehow, it feels right. this side of him, this peace.

“i didn’t think you’d have a place like this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

he glances at you, a small, almost sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “no one ever does,” he says, a glint of something dark flickering behind his eyes. “that’s kinda the point.”

the way he says it makes your stomach flip, and you can’t quite put your finger on why. maybe it’s the vulnerability that tugs at the edges of his words or the way he’s letting you see a part of him no one else does.

for a moment, you think he might say something more, but he simply steps a little closer, his hand brushing yours. the touch is casual, but it sends a spark of warmth shooting through you, a connection that seems to hum between you both.

“do you wanna see something else?” he asks, his voice dropping even lower, and there’s a soft challenge in his tone that makes you want to lean in, to see more, to feel more.

you nod, unable to resist. you find yourself drawn to him in ways you can’t explain, your breath catching when he doesn’t pull back. instead, he closes the gap between you, moving closer until the air between you thickens, charged with something unspoken.

his eyes lock with yours, and there’s something about the way he looks at you that sends your heart into a wild, erratic beat. he tilts his head slightly, and before you can think twice, his lips are on yours.

the kiss is soft at first, like he’s hesitant. but it doesn’t stay that way for long. as his hands find your waist, pulling you closer, the kiss deepens, the heat between you both growing with every brush of lips, every soft gasp that escapes. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you nearer, and your hands instinctively clutch at his hoodie, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours.

your heart races, the world around you nothing but the press of his lips, the warmth of his touch. you break away for a moment, gasping for air, but his forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in uneven bursts.

and then, he speaks, his voice low and rough. “i shouldn’t want this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “but i do. i want you.”

his words make your stomach flip, the intensity of them washing over you in waves. something about the rawness in his voice, the honesty, catches you off guard.

you swallow, trying to steady yourself. “i want this too,” you whisper back, your voice barely audible, like you’re afraid the moment will shatter if you speak too loudly.

there’s a quiet beat, just the two of you, caught in this fragile space between wanting and hesitation. but then, he presses another kiss to your lips, and you forget everything except the feel of him, the way his touch makes everything else fall away.

when you finally pull apart, breathless, he smiles—a small, almost wistful thing. “i think this place is special for more than one reason now,” he says, voice laced with an emotion you can’t quite place.

you smile back, though your heart is still racing. “yeah,” you whisper. “it is.”

—

that night, when the house is dark and quiet, you barely hear the sound of him climbing up the tree until there’s a soft thud against your window. your heart stutters in your chest as you rush over, pushing it open just in time to see him balance himself on the ledge.

the moment haechan lands in your room with a quiet thump, you glare at him, arms crossed. “you’re unbelievable,” you whisper harshly. “do you have any idea how much trouble i’d be in if we got caught?”

he grins, completely unfazed. “but we did get caught.”

you smack his arm, making him flinch. “not the point.”

he raises his hands in surrender, but the smirk stays. “yes, ma’am.”

you roll your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach flips at his teasing tone. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, you still let me in.”

you don’t have a response to that, so you just sigh, motioning toward your bed. “sit down before you break something.”

he flops onto the mattress with a little too much enthusiasm, making you shake your head as you sit beside him. the room is quiet except for the hum of the night outside, the occasional rustle of leaves from the tree he just climbed. neither of you say anything for a moment, but you can feel the shift in his energy—less playful, more… tired.

“so,” you say softly, “what are you really doing here?”

he exhales, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “couldn’t sleep.”

you glance at him, catching the way his jaw tightens before he looks away. “bad night?”

“something like that.”

his voice is quieter now, stripped of its usual bravado, and it makes your chest ache. you hesitate for a second before shifting slightly closer, your fingers barely grazing his on the comforter.

he notices. you feel it in the way his hand twitches, in the way he inhales just a little sharper. but he doesn’t pull away. instead, his pinky moves just the slightest bit, brushing against yours again.

“you ever feel like you’re running full speed toward a cliff,” he murmurs, “and you can’t stop?”

you swallow. “yeah.”

he huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“there’s nothing wrong with you.”

he lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “you’re the only person who thinks that.”

you turn to look at him, really look at him, and for once, he doesn’t hide. his guard is down, his eyes raw with something you can’t quite name. and in that moment, he’s not the reckless boy who teases you endlessly, who smirks like he owns the world. he’s just a boy who’s trying to keep himself together.

you shift your pinky again, letting it hook around his for the briefest second before pulling away. his fingers twitch, like he wants to chase the touch, but he stays still.

“you’re not running off that cliff alone,” you murmur.

his throat bobs as he swallows, eyes flickering to your face. “you make it really hard to stay away, sunshine.”

you don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything at all. you just sit there in the dim glow of your room, fingers barely brushing, hearts quietly syncing to the same rhythm.

—

the next school morning felt different.

it’s been just a few nights since you let haechan in through your window, since he talked to you so deeply; revealing himself to you in a way you never thought he would. you felt something deeper than just adrenaline when you whispered that you wanted him there. and now, stepping into school, that night feels fragile, like something you shouldn’t have touched, something that shouldn’t have followed you into the daylight.

because now the whispers have grown louder.

“did you hear? they were together again over the weekend.”

“she sneaks out with him. she’s not as innocent as she acts.”

“it’s cute how she thinks she’s different.”

you keep your head down, fingers curled tightly around the strap of your bag, trying to push past it. but it’s everywhere. in the halls, in the classroom, even when you sit down with your friends at lunch—where, for the first time, the usual chatter dies down when you approach.

“so,” giselle starts carefully, “is it true?”

“what?” your voice comes out sharper than intended.

“you and haechan.”

your stomach twists. you already know there’s no right answer. deny it, and you sound guilty. confirm it, and they’ll pick it apart.

“we just study together, karina, you know that,” you say evenly. “that’s it.”

a look is exchanged, one that makes your skin prickle.

“you don’t have to lie,” winter says. “we’re just… looking out for you.”

“looking out for me?” you let out a sharp laugh. “for what?”

“we’re just saying,” giselle chimes back in, quieter, hesitant. “he has a… reputation. you know that.”

“i know him,” you counter.

“do you?”

you don’t answer. you don’t need to. the air shifts awkwardly, and lunch carries on, but the words stick.

by the time the final bell rings, you feel raw, rubbed down by a day of passing glances and quiet judgments. you don’t know what’s worse—the people who whisper like you can’t hear them, or the ones who make sure you do.

you’re halfway to the front doors when someone else’s words catch your ear.

“he’s just playing with her. like he does with everyone.”

your breath stumbles.

“he gets bored fast. wonder how long she’ll last.”

yourchest tightens. you know you shouldn’t care. you know it’s just talk. but it digs in anyway, settling like lead in your stomach.

then a voice pulls you out of it.

“sunshine.”

you turn. haechan’s waiting near the steps, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes flicking over you like he can tell something’s off.

“hey,” he says, stepping closer. “you good?”

“fine.” it’s automatic, too quick. his brows pinch slightly, but he doesn’t push.

“come with me,” he says instead, nudging his head toward the doors. “let’s get out of here for a bit.”

you hesitate. for the first time, you aren’t sure if you want to go. because you can still hear their words. and worse—you can’t shake the fear that maybe they’re right.

but then you meet his eyes, warm and steady despite everything, and that fear doesn’t seem so loud anymore.

“okay,” you say.

and just like that, you follow him out.

—

he takes you somewhere quiet. away from the school, away from the weight of a thousand glances and whispers pressing down on you.

it’s a small clearing just past the neighborhood, tucked behind a line of trees, where the ground slopes gently toward a creek. the sky is wide here, open, stretching endless above you in soft hues of late afternoon.

“is this where you spend some of your time too?” you ask, looking around.

“one of the places.” haechan drops down onto the grass, leaning back on his palms. “not a bad spot, huh?”

“no,” you admit, sitting beside him. “it’s pretty.”

he grins. “figured you’d like it. you have that whole… poetic, pretty-things type of vibe.”

“oh, do i?” you glance at him.

“mhm.” he shifts closer, voice dropping slightly. “that’s why you like me, right?”

your stomach flips. you don’t answer, but the way you go quiet gives you away. his grin widens.

“i knew it.”

“shut up,” you mutter, shoving his shoulder lightly.

he laughs, but the teasing fades after a moment, leaving something quieter in its place.

“you don’t have to listen to them, you know.”

you tense. you don’t ask who he means—you both know.

“they don’t know me,” he says, eyes still on the sky. “not really. but you do.”

“do i?” the words slip out before you can stop them, laced with something you don’t quite recognize.

it makes him pause.

“do you think they’re right?” he asks after a moment, voice unreadable. “that i’m just messing around?”

you turn toward him. his expression is calm, but there’s something underneath it, something waiting.

you should say no. you should tell him that you trust him, that you don’t care what anyone else says.

but the doubt is still there, tangled up in everything else you feel for him.

“i don’t know,” you whisper.

his jaw tightens. he looks away.

the silence stretches, thick and heavy. your heart pounds.

and then, before you can stop yourself, the question leaves your lips.

“what are we, haechan?”

he stills.

for a long moment, he doesn’t answer. just watches you, his gaze flickering over your face like he’s searching for something.

then, slowly, he exhales.

“we’re whatever you want us to be.”

you blink. “what?”

he shifts closer, so close that you feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. “if you want this to be nothing, i’ll leave it alone. if you want me to be just some guy you tutored, i’ll deal with it.”

his fingers reach for yours, tentative, brushing against your knuckles.

“but if you want more…” he trails off, voice low, gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

your heart is a drum against your ribs.

“what if i don’t know what i want?” you whisper.

he lets out a quiet laugh, almost breathless. “then tell me what you do know.”

you swallow, pulse thrumming as you feel his fingers slowly interlace with yours.

“i know i don’t want you to be just some guy i tutored.”

his grip on your hand tightens.

“then you’ve already answered your own question, sunshine.”

the nickname is soft, almost reverent. and before you can second-guess it, before you can let the fear creep in, you squeeze his hand back.

he smiles—one of those small, secret ones, like you’ve just given him something he thought he’d never have.

and for now, that’s enough.

—

the evening was calm, the sun dipping lower in the sky as you walk with haechan beside you. the two of you had just finished the day at school, chatting and laughing, not realizing how close you were to your house until you were almost at the front steps. everything felt normal, easy, the way it had been recently, and you couldn’t have imagined what was about to happen.

you notice them—your mom and dad—standing in the doorway, watching. your stomach drops and you instinctively grip haechan’s hand tighter. his smile fades when he feels the change in you, his attention shifting to what you’re looking at.

“shit,” you mutter, but keep walking, praying they won’t notice you until you get inside. but just as you reach the steps, your mother’s voice cuts through the quiet air. “what did i tell you?” it’s sharp and furious, each word heavy with the threat of anger. “what is he doing here?”

you freeze. your dad steps into view beside her, arms crossed. his posture alone is enough to make your heart race.

“mom, i…” you start, but you’re immediately cut off.

“no excuses,” she snaps, voice dripping with disdain. “you think i don’t know what you’ve been doing? sneaking around with him? what do you think you’re doing?”

“mom, i—” you try again, but her dad’s icy glare silences you.

“you’re still grounded,” he says in a low, dangerous tone. “go inside. now.”

you glance at haechan. he’s standing beside you, quiet, his hands shoved into his pockets. he doesn’t know what to do. he probably doesn’t even know if he’s allowed to say anything.

your mom turns to him, her face contorting with barely-contained fury. “you. what are you doing here? you have no business with my daughter.”

“i’m not causing any trouble,” he says quietly, but his words hang in the air, useless against the tension.

“no,” your mother snaps, “you’re not just causing trouble, you’re ruining everything. you don’t belong here.”

you can feel the heat rising inside you, the pressure of everything that’s been building in the last few days, and you can’t hold it in anymore. “stop,” you say, your voice trembling but strong. “i—”

and then, before you can stop it, the words slip out, raw and unfiltered. “i love him.”

the air around you freezes. your mom’s eyes widen, her mouth parting slightly in shock. she takes a step back, clearly not understanding what she’s hearing. it was the first time you ever said it, hell even thought it. but it felt right.

“what did you just say?” her voice is cold now, sharp as a knife.

“i said it,” you repeat, but your voice is barely above a whisper. “i love him.”

her mother stares at you, disbelief and disgust flashing across her face. “you don’t know what you’re talking about. you’re just a kid, and you think you love him?” she sneers, voice full of derision. “you don’t know anything about love. this… this is just a phase. and he—he is not good for you.”

your dad doesn’t speak. he just stands there, arms crossed, his silence just as loud as your mom’s words. you feel yourself shrinking under their gaze, as if everything inside you is getting smaller, more insignificant.

“you will not see him again. do you understand me?” your mother’s voice rises now, almost breaking with fury. “you are grounded, and this… whatever you think this is, it ends now.”

“i love him,” you whisper again, more firmly this time, trying to hold onto something—anything—before everything falls apart. “i love him.”

“no,” your mother spits, “you don’t. and you will forget him. you will go to your room. and you will stay there. i won’t have this in my house.”

haechan looks at you, his face unreadable. the words you shared earlier seem to echo in his eyes, but something changes in him. he takes a small step back, like he’s retreating from something, unsure how to fix this.

“i think it’s better if i go,” he mutters, his voice tight, as he begins to pull away. “i don’t want to make things worse for you.”

before you can stop him, he’s turning, walking away. you reach out, your hand grasping for his wrist, but he pulls away gently, avoiding your gaze. “no..haechan,” you say, your voice shaking. “please. don’t leave.”

he doesn’t respond immediately, just looks at you for a long, agonizing moment. then he lets out a shaky sigh and turns to leave, his footsteps growing fainter as he walks away from you.

you stand frozen on the front steps, your heart racing. your mom’s voice cuts through the silence again. “you’ll go to your room. and you’ll stay there. you will not see him again. do you understand me?”

you can’t even answer, your throat tight, your mind spiraling. without saying another word, you walk silently into the house, up to your room, and shut the door behind you. hard

you sit there, the weight of your mother’s words crushing you. her disapproval and disappointment are suffocating, and you can feel the space between you and haechan growing larger with every passing second.

but the hardest part? the hardest part is knowing that you love him, and yet, here you are, too afraid to reach for him because of everything that’s standing in the way.

—

it’s been a few days since the argument with your parents. the silence between you and haechan feels heavy, almost suffocating. you can’t stop thinking about him, but you haven’t been able to reach him either. you’re grounded, no phone, and it’s like a piece of you is missing.

you’re sitting in your room, staring at the wall in front of your bed, when you hear a light tap. your heart races. you hurry over, parting the curtains to find haechan standing there, looking just as conflicted as you feel. he looks tired—like he hasn’t been able to sleep—but his eyes light up when they meet yours.

you open the window quickly, and without a word, he climbs inside. it’s the same familiar move, but there’s something different now. there’s an unspoken tension between you both, a hesitation in the way he moves toward you.

he steps closer but stops when he sees you retreat a little, like you’re unsure whether to welcome him or pull away. there’s a beat of silence before he speaks, his voice softer than usual.

“i couldn’t stay away,” he admits, running a hand through his messy hair. “but i didn’t want to make things worse. i thought… maybe i was doing the right thing.”

you meet his gaze, and for a moment, you both just look at each other. there’s no need for more words. you can tell he’s been thinking about this as much as you have. but there’s still the weight of your parents’ words, their expectations, hanging in the air. and you know they would never approve. you’re supposed to stay away from him.

“i don’t know why i’m even here,” he murmurs, eyes flickering down for a moment. “i knew things were gonna get messy.”

you step forward then, frustration and confusion bubbling inside you. “you left me hanging, haechan. i didn’t hear from you, i didn’t—”

“i know,” he interrupts, his voice laced with guilt. “but i thought maybe you’d be better off without me. i didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

you don’t know how to respond to that. you want to be angry, but the truth is, you feel the same confusion. you wanted to hear from him. you missed him. but it’s hard to ignore the fact that your parents would never understand this. would never approve.

he takes a deep breath and steps closer again, almost as if he’s bracing himself. his fingers twitch at his sides, unsure of whether to reach out or not. you know the pull between you is undeniable, but there’s still a wall between you, the one built by fear and responsibility.

“i can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i thought i could, but i can’t.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening. “i can’t ignore everything, haechan. my parents—they won’t let this happen.”

he looks down, disappointment flickering in his eyes. then, slowly, he lifts his gaze to yours again. “i didn’t want to make things harder for you. i didn’t want to be the one who messed up your life.”

you feel a knot in your stomach. his words sting, but it’s clear that he’s not giving up. and neither are you.

“then why are you here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

his answer isn’t one you expect. he steps forward and brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent. “because even if i shouldn’t, i can’t stay away. i don’t know how to.”

the words hang between you, unsaid but understood. your heart beats faster in your chest, and for the first time since the argument, you feel something other than confusion or anger.

“i can’t either,” you admit, your voice low.

before you can say anything else, haechan closes the distance, pressing his lips gently to yours. it’s tentative, careful, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away at any moment. but you don’t. you kiss him back, softly at first, savoring the moment, the closeness. and for a brief moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

when you pull away, you both stand there, breaths mingling. he looks at you, searching your face, as if trying to make sure he hasn’t crossed a line.

“i’ll make things right,” he says quietly, his voice filled with resolve. “somehow. i don’t want to lose you.”

you take a deep breath, the weight of the situation sinking in. your parents’ disapproval, the complications, the risks—it’s all still there, but in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to push him away.

“i don’t know what’s going to happen,” you murmur, your hand brushing lightly against his. “but i can’t stop wanting this. wanting you.”

he gives a small, bittersweet smile. “then we’ll figure it out together. i promise.”

and just like that, you feel the tension between you ease, even if only for a moment. the future is uncertain, but right now, all that matters is the warmth of his touch, the closeness you feel, and the quiet promise of something more between you two.

—

the tension in the living room is suffocating. it’s been a week since the small talk with haechan in your room. you two had been interacting a lot less at school, yet here you both were. your parents sit stiffly on the couch, their eyes locked onto haechan as if he’s something they need to purge from your life. he stands in front of them, his hands curled into loose fists at his sides, but he doesn’t lash out. doesn’t scoff or roll his eyes like they expect him to.

his usual confidence is still there, but tonight, there’s something else underneath it. something raw, something desperate. because this isn’t just about proving himself to your parents. it’s about proving himself to you, too. proving that he’s worth fighting for.

“this needs to stop,” your father says, his voice firm. “you sneaking around with him. whatever this is. it’s done.”

your mother shakes her head, exhaling sharply. “you don’t see it now, but this isn’t love. boys like him don’t stick around.”

boys like him.

haechan’s jaw clenches. he’s heard those words before, from teachers, from people in town, from kids at school who assumed they knew everything about him. reckless. dangerous. a mistake waiting to happen. but it’s different coming from your parents, because this time, it actually matters.

“you don’t know me,” he says, voice steady but edged with frustration. “you only see what you want to see.”

your mom crosses her arms. “oh, so tell us, then. tell us why we should believe you’re any different.” you eye her as she speaks so sharply to him.

please just give him a chance.

haechan hesitates for just a second, and your heart clenches. because you know he hates doing this. hates explaining himself to people who have already made up their minds. but he does it anyway. for you.

“i know i don’t look like the kind of guy you want your daughter with,” he says, voice quieter now, but no less firm. “i know i don’t come from some perfect family, and i know i’ve made mistakes. but i swear to you, i—i’m trying.” he swallows hard, his gaze flicking to you before going back to them. “i’m trying to be better. for her.”

your mother’s lips press into a thin line. “people don’t change overnight.”

“i’m not asking you to believe me overnight,” haechan says, his voice stronger now. “i’m just asking you to see me the way she does. not as some lost cause, but as someone who cares about her more than you could ever understand.”

silence stretches between all of you. your father looks away, exhaling through his nose. your mother’s expression is unreadable. you know they don’t fully accept him—not yet. maybe they never will. but there’s something in their faces that wasn’t there before. doubt. hesitation. a crack in the walls they’ve built around the idea of who he is.

your mother sighs, rubbing her temples. “this… this is a lot. i don’t know what to do with this right now.”

your father doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t push the conversation further either.

it’s not approval. not even close. but it’s not outright rejection either.

haechan shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against yours—not holding, just there. grounding.

“can i…talk to her alone?” he asks.

your parents exchange a glance, and for a moment, you think they’ll say no. but then your mom sighs again, pinching the bridge of her nose. “five minutes.”

you don’t wait for them to change their minds, grabbing haechan’s wrist and tugging him down the hall to the guest bedroom. the moment the door clicks shut, you turn to him, taking him in—his disheveled hair, the way his rings catch the dim light, the way his shoulders are still tense.

—

the tension lingers even after your parents leave the room, their quiet murmurs fading down the hall. you stand there with haechan, his fingers still loosely tangled with yours, the weight of everything pressing down on you both.

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before letting out a soft chuckle. “well… that went great, huh?”

you give him a look, half-exasperated, half-affectionate. “you really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

he grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “nah, guess not.”

you squeeze his hand, grounding him. “thank you. for standing up for yourself. for… for me.”

his expression shifts, something softer taking over. his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. “i meant everything i said,” he murmurs. “every damn word.”

there’s a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken things. then, without thinking, you step forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders , pressing your face into his neck. he hesitates for half a second before melting into you, his arms coming up to hold you like he’s afraid to let go.

“i don’t know how this is gonna end,” you whisper.

haechan swallows hard, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your back. “me neither,” he admits. “but i know one thing.”

you pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “what?”

“that i love you,” his lips quirk into a small, lopsided smile—one that still holds a trace of mischief, but there’s something deeper beneath it. something real. “and i’m not letting you go that easily.”

your heart stumbles over itself, and before you can second-guess it, you surge forward, kissing him with every ounce of feeling you can’t put into words.

he responds instantly, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. the kiss is slow, lingering, like a promise neither of you are willing to break.

when you finally pull away, your forehead resting against his, you whisper, “we’re kind of doomed, aren’t we?”

he huffs a quiet laugh, his breath warm against your lips. “probably. but at least we’re doomed together.”

and somehow, despite everything, that feels like enough.

—

▸ taggies ; @ikykyuno @ashopatata @tynivr @ilujkm @maiyhw @413cl @flaminghotyourmom @yunjinsart @theandypark @nae-vm @czennilove — i hope this was everyone <3

▸ big thank you to everyone who left feedback on the first part ily guys :(

[yukioos]

Your writing is so good im eating up every little bit hsesuritvjhb

can I request a Katsuki x windquirk!reader? Hes tired and sweaty after training and comes into readers dorm to cool off with cuddles cuz shes basically a human fan thank you!

katsuki bakugo who relies on you to cool him off

treat it like it's the real thing. katsuki was always told that ever since he was a little boy. when he had to practice for sports events, his parents always advised him to play like he was really in the game. when he studied and did quizzes in school, he did his best to get all of them right. this wasn’t any different from training.

he always tried his hardest, and especially harder when he was against eijiro, who he considered to be one of the strongest in the class. while training, he and eijiro were one of the pairs that were the most entertaining to watch. it always ended in both of them being covered in sweat and many scratches, bruises, and cuts.

this time, after a couple of rounds of trying to push each other out of a large boxed arena, katsuki finally won. eijiro applauded him and placed a hand on his sweat-soaked shoulder, making him immediately pull his hand back.

“thanks for training with me, bakugo!” eijiro thanked, showing off his shiny, sharp teeth with a wide grin.

the blonde rolled his eyes and attempted to hold back a smile, “yeah, whatever.” he paused, then thought for a moment. damn, he needed to see you, he was soaked in sweat and felt like the sun was burning him a hundred times over. he looked at the ground, and his lip turned into a shy smile.

a knowing grin stretched across eijiro’s face, he tilted his head and crossed his arms. he knew that look. “thinking about your girl again?”

katsuki’s eyes widened, then quickly glared at his friend. when would he stop with all this teasing? before he opened his mouth, eijiro suggested, “i know you need her to cool you off, just go to her.”

the blonde rolled his eyes, he knew his friend was right. he gave him a small wave and jogged to your dorm, still panting on his way there. god, he was feeling too hot. too overwhelmed. how long has it been since he’s seen you last? two hours? that was clearly too long of a break, and he just wanted to be held in your arms again.

your door opened in the middle of nowhere, causing you to quickly and anxiously turn your head. the wind in your room was strong as papers and books began to fly all over the room. a heavy schoolbook quickly flew to the doorframe, but your boyfriend caught it, then shielded his eyes from the heavy wind.

once you realized it was him, you smiled and kicked your feet. as the wind began to become less intense, your hair spiked up, a sign that meant you were feeling extreme emotions. the blonde stood in the doorway before he walked in, quietly closed the door, made a short trip to your desk to place your schoolbook down, and then stripped himself of his black tank top.

“come here, kats!” you exclaimed, laying on your bed, back to your sheets as you held your arms out.

he didn’t say anything but quickly climbed into your bed, and wrapped his arms around your waist. a deep sigh came from his chest, and he immediately felt a wave of relief and coldness. you used your quirk to cool him off, and rubbed your hands against his bare back, making him feel more comfortable than ever.

katsuki kissed your neck and closed his eyes, not saying a single word. he must’ve been extremely tired if he didn’t have any complaints about training or anything to brag about.

but as soon as you were about to open your mouth, you noticed his breathing was even. all the sweat droplets on his body were gone, and his eyes were closed. it wasn’t too common for him to pass out immediately after training, but maybe he was especially emotional today.

he didn’t tell you that he fell asleep around you so easily because he felt safe around you. the way you were always so caring and excited to simply cool him down warmed his heart every time. he loved how as soon as you saw the slightest sign that he may have been overheated, you would place a hand on his bicep or forehead to cool him down.

not long after katsuki fell asleep, you also drifted into slumber, holding his cool body in your arms.

tysm for 900 followers! you guys are so amazing, and thank you for this request! it’s absolutely adorable, and i’m so thankful you love my writing!

[softness-and-shattering]

I generally start with lesser materials - that I still like - and as I gain skill, and understanding of the materials, I upgrade. I started crochet with one hook and a few balls of yarn in colours I liked but no clue about composition or size. After a while I bought a set of crochet hooks with grippier handles, and Im in the slow process of acquiring wool yarn (id also get cotton but it much harder to find) rather than the acrylics I grabbed to begin with.

What I had been doing in general was only buying supplies with a particular project in mind, mostly to be responsible about what Im accumulating and thrifty with money. Then theres no "what if I mess it up what if theres a better use"; it was purchased for this project I will use it for this project. Lately Im realising I need more flexibility for my creative process so Im getting some more materials, but Im buying it to use it, not to look pretty on a shelf. Its purpose is to be used up, and crucially, when I need more I will buy more. I can use this yarn this fabric this paint because its not the last of its kind. Im not buying any supplies that are so unique, maybe it'll be a different dye batch but thats about it. There is no shortage of good art/craft supplies. Even if I did get something super singular and special, its not the last special thing to ever exist.

I do understand the fear of "what if I mess it up and its the last of its kind", I have that fear about other things. I just tell myself these are not the last supplies I will ever have. I can buy more when I need. And tbh the more times I go back to the store and order a couple things for a new project and thats it, Im teaching myself that its not a limited resource. I can always get more. Yes finances are a thing obviously, but the point isnt that I have huge shopping sprees, the point is a couple balls of yarn and a new tool here and there help my brain feel more like there is plenty, I am not desperate, I can use what I have, more supplies are always available.

I guess it does also help that I tend to get my supplies from big chain stores, that do continuously stock the same things. Ive gone back and bought more of the exact same yarn 6 months later and its indistinguishable.

Its a process.

Oh one morr thing Ive heard spoken in semi serious jest - accumulating supplies, and doing the craft, are two separate but related hobbies. Maybe think about how you relate to that. Do you not want to use the pretties on the shelf because they wont be pretties on the shelf anymore? Are you drawn to the potential of the materials more strongly than the process of making?

back again encouraging people to start using the hobby stuff they've been acquiring for years

reasons to start can include:

the hobby industry wants only for us to keep buying and never use, so using the stuff pushes back

some hobby items do not survive long term storage

if there's some craft or hobby thing that you want to do but feel your skills aren't up to, consider that those skills won't improve if you don't practice on other things

using it allows it to move from the hobby hoard to the [whatever you made it into] hoard, where you may be more likely to enjoy it more often than just when you specifically look at the hobby hoard

making things is good for the brain

curious to see what other reasons people might add

[harrysespresso]

short king | yt22

♡ summary: yuki hard launched over winter break but no one realized how tall you were till you’re photographed together in the melbourne paddock (essentially making the internet explode over your height difference & how cute your relationship is)

♡ pairing: yuki tsunoda x gf!reader

♡ warnings: none just fluff

♡ faceclaim: minnie mills

♡ a/n: this is a little short but i might post more of this pairing in the future (if that’s something you guys would want 🫣

masterlist

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

𝜗𝜚

f1gossip

Liked by user221 and 23,128 others

f1gossip Yuki Tsunoda photographed with girlfriend, YN LN as they entered the VCARB motorhome today.

tagged: yourusername, yukitsunoda0511

View all comments

user887 they’re adorable 🤧

user120 SHES TALL I REPEAT SHES TALL

user881 EVERYONES TALL TO YUKI 😭

user977 user881 that’s just cruel 😭

user98 THEIR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE STFU-

user904 TALL QUEEN??

user654 TALL QUEEN 🤩

user021 THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 😭😭😩😩😩😩😩😩

user927 IVE DIED- THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE THE FITS THE BODY LANGUAGE— THEYRE ADORABLE 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

user565 paddock it couple??

user196 YESS

user225 obsessed with them 😭

user981 they’re like perfect for each other 😭😭🤧

—— twitter

replies —

user881 it’s f1’s tomdaya 😭

user002 as he should ‼️‼️

user765 tall gf x short bf is always a POWER COUPLE 😭

user923 HONESTLY

user454 IM OBSESSED WITH THEM 😭😭😭

user921 tall girl recognition is so special to me

~~~

user981 OMG 😭

user102 THATS- 😭

user095 the fact she’s like short end of tall but still taller than him 💀

user410 i mean any taller would be crazyyyy 😭😭

user329 THATS LIKE A PERFECT HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 😭😭

user410 ITS LIKE GOALS FR

user923 quickly becoming my favorite couple 🫣🫣

user410 i fear im parasocial about them 🤧

user923 i’m actually their pet cat 🤧🤧

user991 IM OBSESSED 😭

—— instagram

yourusername

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 245,784 others

yourusername aussie date night with my short king (i don’t think he’s that small guys 🤷‍♀️)

tagged: yukitsunoda0511

View all comments

user983 BYE NOT THE TINY YUKI 😭

yourusername no idea what you mean he looks reallyyy tall here 🤷‍♀️

user983 right you right my bad 😭

user107 MYY FAVORITE WAG 💀💀

avantika that’s CRUEL

yourusername 🫣😭

user990 THIS IS COUPLE GOALS GUYS ‼️‼️

user804 SHE SLAYYS

lola.tung LOOK AT YOUU 😍

yourusername ILY 🫶🏻

francisca.cgomes beautiful girl 😍

yourusername mwah mwah 🫶🏻🫶🏻

yukitsunoda0511 YOURE SO 😍😝

yourusername AW POOKIE 🤭🤭

yukitsunoda0511 YN 😭 WTF

yourusername whaaa what happened 🤷‍♀️

yukitsunoda0511 😭😭

user021 TINY YUKI 😭😭😭

user103 YUKI WAS EVEN SHOCKED 😭

user978 he got caught up in how hot his gf is 😭😭💀💀

lando can’t believe you’d do him like that 🙂‍↔️

yourusername whaaat he’s a short king ☹️☺️

user299 yourusername bye that’s iconic 😭😭😭

danielricciardo see i know you edited that photo yuki isn’t that tall ☝️

yourusername you got me 🫤😔

yukitsunoda0511 i’m being bullied.

user765 YN quickly becoming everyone’s favorite wag:

user067 wow yuki is way taller in that photo! great picture angles queen! ♥︎ by author

lilymhe you’re actually my favorite person ever 😭😭

yourusername i’m flattered omg 🤭

—— yourusername instagram story

caption 1 i’ve been told by an unnamed source (yuki) that i need to apologize for bullying him on the internet (consider the next slide my formal apology) caption 2: my SINCEREST apologies to my sweet sweet tiny little baby pookie

replies—

yukitsunoda0511 this doesn’t feel like an apology 🤨

➥ yourusername oh! that’s because it’s not hope this helps ☺️

➥ yukitsunoda0511 that’s just cruel treating your short king bf this way 🙂‍↔️

➥ yourusername the internet started it i’m just fueling the fans 🤭

➥ yukitsunoda0511 MENACE 😭

➥ yourusername i love you too 😚

➥ yukitsunoda0511 🥲 i love you (even though you’re a bully)

user992 NEVER CHANGE QUEEN 😭

user021 THE MEMES 😭😭😭

user192 this is so gen z i love it💀💀

lilymhe BYE 😭😭😭😭

avantika formula one fans don’t know how unhinged you are yet 😭

➥ yourusername they’re learning so very slowly 😭😭😭

user876 my favorite f1 couple BY FAR 😭😭😭😭😭

—— instagram

yukitsunoda0511

Liked by pierregasly and 398,923 others

yukitsunoda0511 my tall girl dump 🩵

tagged: yourusername

View all comments

user985 STOPPP 😣😭

user765 me thinking this was a cute dump until i got to the last slide: 🥲

pierregasly EVIL 😭😭

yukitsunoda0511 this is revenge‼️

user525 I CANT 😭 THEY HAVE THE SAME SENSE OF HUMOR

user945 we better continue getting embarrassing photos of them both cause this is iconic 😭😭😭

yourusername YUKI WTF 😭

yukitsunoda0511 whaaaa my finger must’ve slipped 🤷‍♂️

yourusername I CANT STAND YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

lilymhe BABY YN 😭😭

yourusername i was the same height as yuki is now

yukitsunoda0511 yourusername WTF

isackhadjar despite the last photo this is actually a very cute post 😭

user917 the fact they can joke with each other like this is what makes them goals 😭😭

user876 the height difference also helps

user917 that it does.

user673 YN WAS ADORABLE AS A KID 😭😭

user826 couple goals 😭😭

user918 super parasocial rn 🥲🥲

~~~

yourusername

Liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 152,543 others

yourusername that’s a wrap on melbourne!! was gonna do a cute lil dump but realized i already posted like every photo i took so enjoy the only one no one posted 🤷‍♀️😚

tagged: yukitsunoda0511

View all comments

avantika too chronically online to save photos for a dump 💀

yourusername shhh don’t call me out im supposed to be cool and mysterious 👀👀

user914 CUTIES 😭😭

user376 tomdaya of f1 ‼️

user995 short king x tall queen 😝

lilymhe had so much fun!! can’t wait till next time😚

yourusername mwah you’re the best 🫶🏻🫶🏻

francisca.cgomes best person to wander around the paddock with!

yourusername love ya kiks 🫶🏻

user934 this is the cutest 😭😭

user109 her little grin theyre so in looooove 😭😭😭😭

user522 PADDOCK IT COUPLE ‼️

user876 POINTS FOR YUKI!!! YUKI DOMINATION ‼️‼️‼️

user995 YUKI DOMINATION ‼️

yukitsunoda0511 i love you sm 🩵 thank you for being my lucky charm this weekend and for always supporting me 🙃

yourusername i love you so much yuki and im always your biggest fan 🥹🥲🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[gracie-eilish]

Hi! I have a request but the beginning is slightly suggestive. It’s kinda like a post smut fluff type thing?

Maybe something where reader and Billie have been friends for years, and the night prior they end up doing the deed. and the beginning is that in the morning after they yk.. reader assumes Billie wants her to leave and that it was a mistake but Billie asks her to stay and assures her it wasn’t a mistake and that she wants to be more than friends

I really don’t know if this even makes any sense at all, but I figured no harm in asking, right?

best/girl friend

warning: allusion to smut but not actual smut, nudity

i meant to post this last night but i had to get up for work at 3:30 (terrible awful horrible ik) this morning so i fell asleep early. anyways by the time ur reading this im probably taking my post work nap:) enjoy!

The air between you was thick, electric, still crackling with the remnants of what had just happened. The room smelled like her—warm, familiar, safe—and yet, everything felt different now. Your skin tingled where she had touched you, and as you lay there, heart pounding, you realized you had no idea what to do next.

Billie was quiet beside you, her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. Your eyes traced the slope of her bare shoulder, the curve of her collarbone, the way her fingers absentmindedly played with the sheets. She looked deep in thought, almost lost in it, and for the first time all night, you felt unsure.

You swallowed. “So…”

Billie blinked, turning her head to look at you. “So,” she echoed, her voice softer than usual.

A small silence settled between you, not quite awkward but something close to it. You fidgeted with the edge of the sheet, trying to find the right words, but everything felt too big, too complicated.

“I—” You started, but Billie beat you to it.

“Was that… okay?” she asked, her brows knitting together slightly, her voice quiet.

You exhaled a soft laugh. “I think ‘okay’ is an understatement.”

That earned you a small smile, but it faded just as quickly. Billie bit her lip, glancing away like she was warring with something in her head.

You reached for her hand instinctively, running your thumb over her knuckles. “Billie, what’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “I just…” She sighed, shaking her head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

A pang hit your chest, but you forced yourself to nod. “I know.”

She turned back to you, her eyes scanning your face like she was afraid of what she’d find there. “Do you regret it?”

You barely let her finish before you shook my head. “No,” you said firmly. “Do you?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, as if debating whether to be honest. Finally, she exhaled. “No,” she admitted, almost like it surprised her. “I don’t.”

Something in your chest loosened at that.

Billie let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “God, this is weird.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Her eyes softened. “No?”

“No,” you murmured. “It’s just me.”

She exhaled slowly, like she was taking that in, like she was letting it settle.

A moment passed before she whispered, “Yeah. Just you.”

And there was something in the way she said it that made your stomach flip.

Another beat of silence, then Billie suddenly moved, rolling onto her back. The loss of her warmth made something ache inside you, but you ignored it. You figured this was your cue to leave. That’s what she always did, after all—no lingering, no overcomplicating things.

So you shifted, preparing to slide out from beneath the sheets, reaching for your clothes.

You barely made it an inch before fingers wrapped gently around your wrist.

“Stay.”

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it made your breath hitch.

Slowly, you turned to face her. She wasn’t looking at you like you were a mistake. She wasn’t looking at you like you were just another name in a long list of people she’d leave behind.

She looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world.

Her blue eyes—so big, so bright—held something raw, something you’d never seen before. Her heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in the space between you.

“Please,” she whispered, voice barely holding together.

Billie never said please like this.

You swallowed, the weight of her gaze pressing against your chest. “Are you sure?”

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “I think I knew before I even kissed you,” she admitted. “I just… I don’t want this to be like all the other times.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tight. “It’s not.”

She let out a shaky breath, something vulnerable flashing across her face before she murmured,

“Come here.”

And you did.

You let her pull you back into the warmth of her body, let her press her lips to your forehead, let her arms wrap around you like she was trying to convince herself you was real.

A few beats passed before she spoke again, her voice a little sheepish. “You should shower, though. I—I mean, we—” She cut herself off, groaning and hiding her face in your hair. “I just mean you’ll feel better.”

You laughed softly. “Are you saying I smell?”

She pulled back, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips while she giggled. “Nooo!!! You’ll just feel all fresh and clean and.. better.”

You giggled with her as she chuckled, sitting up and stretching before nodding toward the bathroom. “C’mon,” she murmured. “I’ll help.”

You let her guide you inside, your legs still a little weak beneath you. She turned on the water, testing the temperature before turning back to you. There was a flicker of hesitation in her expression, almost like she was nervous again.

You arched a brow. “You sure you’re not just trying to see me naked again?”

Billie scoffed, though her cheeks turned pink. “Shut up,” she mumbled, before carefully helping you into the shower.

The hot water felt like heaven against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the way Billie touched you. She moved slowly, running a soapy washcloth over your arms, your shoulders, your back. Her fingers skimmed over you so gently it almost made you shiver.

“You okay?” she asked softly, searching your face. You nodded.

“Didn’t think you were the type to take care of your hookups,” You murmured teasingly.

Billie let out a quiet laugh, though her cheeks turned pink. “I’m not,” she admitted. Then, more softly, “You’re not a hookup.”

Your chest tightened.

She rinsed you off with gentle hands, tilting your chin up so the water could wash away the shampoo. Her thumb brushed your jaw, lingering there, her gaze locked on yours.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered.

Your breath caught.

“So are you,” you murmured back.

She bit her lip, as if trying to hold back a smile, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

Back in the bedroom, Billie handed you a pair of her pajamas—soft, oversized, drowning you in her scent. You slipped them on, and before you could do or say anything else, she grabbed a brush and settled behind you on the bed.

She worked through your damp hair carefully, as if she was afraid of hurting you. The rhythmic strokes of the brush were soothing, almost hypnotic.

You hesitated before whispering, “What does this mean?”

Her hand stilled for a moment. Then she set the brush down and moved to sit in front of you. Her eyes met yours, searching. “I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “I just know I don’t want you to go.”

Your heart clenched. “Okay,” you murmured.

She let out a slow breath, as if she had been holding it, then reached for your hand. “Can you stay?”

You squeezed her fingers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Billie pulled you back into bed, the weight of her arms around you careful, deliberate. You fit against her like you had been made for this, like this was where you were always supposed to be.

She was holding you like you were something fragile, like she couldn’t believe you were real.

Her fingers traced soft circles onto your back, her breath warm against your temple. “Your heart is racing,” she murmured.

You smiled against her skin. “So is yours.”

She exhaled a quiet laugh, nuzzling into your hair. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Guess you do that to me.”

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your heart flipping at the sight of her—flushed cheeks, sleepy eyes, lips slightly parted. She looked wrecked, but not in the way you had seen before. Not just physically. She looked like she had fallen, and fallen hard.

And maybe you had too.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re kinda screwed, huh?” you teased.

Billie grinned, ducking her head. “Shut up,” she mumbled, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her.

You laughed softly, leaning in, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of her mouth. She sighed into it, her arms tightening around you.

She was a goner.

And so were you.