#so i can rebuild it to what it was before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hainge · 1 day ago

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hiiii hope ur doing well!!

could you do blue lock dads at the beach with their kids? like what they do and chaos some can create. can you do kaiser,rin, isagi, bachira, sae,ness and any of your choice?!

PS: I love your writings so much please dont die

Vacation Foul: Blue Lock Boys, Off Duty

a/n: hihi I’m doing good! hope you’re doing well too!! and don’t worry I’m imortal...and I’m sorry I couldn’t do bachira's one :( I really tried writing something for him but nothing sounded good for me and thank you for the request! I enjoyed writing this!!

bllk!dads ft: Michael Kaiser, Itoshi Rin, Isagi Yoichi, Alexis Ness, Shidou Ryusei, Nagi Seishiro and Itoshi Sae

Michael Kaiser

The sun was relentless over the Greek coastline, casting golden rays over the sparkling blue sea and warming every grain of sand beneath your sunbed. The three of you, Michael, Felix, and you, had flown out for a short family vacation to escape the chaos of city life. Kaiser, naturally, had insisted on bringing a soccer ball. Felix had insisted on bringing his ever-present attitude.

You were stretched out comfortably on a lounger, sun hat tilted just enough to keep the glare off your face as you flipped a page in your book. The Mediterranean breeze smelled like salt and summer fruit. Your son was parked nearby with a bright red plastic bucket and a frown, methodically building a rather intimidating sandcastle complex with tall, crooked walls. His brow was furrowed like a mini architect under a tight deadline.

Kaiser, sprawled on a towel a few feet away, sighed loudly for the fourth time in five minutes. He sat up, staring at the soccer ball lying beside him like it had betrayed him.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, getting up and brushing sand off his shorts. “Wanna play a little?”

Felix didn’t even look up. “Get out.”

Michael blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re in my property.”

Kaiser glanced down and realized his foot was edging into the sandy perimeter Felix had carefully built as a fortress wall. He stepped back quickly, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Better?”

“Leave me alone.”

Kaiser rolled his eyes, used to the five-year-old’s default setting being mildly hostile. “C’mon, I’m bored. Play with dad.”

“No.”

A tense standoff. Then, slowly, Michael nudged the soccer ball with his foot, softly, gently, so it tapped into one of the towers and knocked part of it down.

“STOP!” Felix screeched. He grabbed the ball, wound up with all the strength in his little arms, and chucked it right at his father.

“Felix!” you said sharply, lowering your book. Your voice carried just enough warning to make both of them freeze. “And you, Michael, stop messing with him.”

Kaiser opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and flopped onto the sand with a groan. Felix was already huffing, back to rebuilding the damaged castle.

Without a word, Kaiser scooted closer and began helping, patting damp sand into walls with begrudging patience.

A few minutes later, Felix muttered, “Your castles are ugly.”

“Okay, sorry, Mr. Perfectionist.”

“Die.”

“Hey! We don’t say that!” Michael began, only to get a face full of sand.

“Jeez man calm down” he sputtered, spitting grit and shielding his face as Felix reached for his plastic shovel.

Before the shovel war could escalate, you stood and called, “Let’s go to the water, boys.”

Felix instantly dropped everything. “Yes!”

Michael, still recovering from his sand attack, muttered something in german under his breath but followed as Felix ran ahead, kicking up sand in excitement.

You walked beside Michael toward the waves, and he quietly slipped his arm around your waist, leaning into you like he needed emotional support just to survive his own child. “Why is our son so aggressive?”

“You raised him,” you said lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

Once at the water, Felix didn’t hesitate, he sprinted straight in, no floaties, no fear. He’d been swimming confidently for months now, thanks to Kaiser’s patient lessons (even if one of those lessons had ended with Kaiser choking on seawater while Felix had calmly doggy-paddled circles around him).

As soon as Kaiser stepped in, Felix turned around and immediately began splashing him. Relentlessly. Wave after wave of cold water to the face. Michael stood there, drenched, blinking as you laughed from the shallows.

Then, with one swift motion, Kaiser lunged forward, grabbed Felix, and launched him into the air with practiced ease. Felix shrieked, pure, high-pitched glee as he soared for a second before crashing into the water with a splash.

“Michael!” you gasped through your laughter, hand to your chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“He’s fine!” Kaiser called, grinning as Felix resurfaced, cheeks puffed and hair slicked to his forehead.

“Again!” the little gremlin shouted, already swimming back toward him.

Michael glanced at you, water dripping from his hair, and gave a long-suffering sigh. “He hates me.”

You just smiled, stepping into the waves beside them. “He adores you. That’s the problem.”

“No wait! Throw Mama! Throw Mama!” Felix chanted, splashing toward you with sparkling eyes and betrayal in his tiny heart.

You backed up slightly in the water, waving your hands. “No. Michael, don’t even think about it.”

But Kaiser was already grinning. That smug, mischievous grin that meant you were doomed.

“C’mon,” he teased, wading toward you like a predator in beach shorts. “Just once.”

“I don’t want to wet my hair!” you argued, voice rising as you instinctively started to flee deeper into the sea. “Michael- no. I’m serious!”

He caught you anyway, wrapping his arms around you from behind like some dramatic, soaking-wet Romeo.

“MICHAEL, NO!” you screamed as your feet left the sand.

You were airborne for half a second, a blur of sun and sky, and then you hit the water with a loud splash.

When you surfaced, your hair was plastered to your face, your expression absolutely murderous. Felix was clutching his stomach with laughter, Kaiser right beside him howling like it was the funniest thing he’d seen all year.

“Ugh! Baby, why?” you groaned, blinking water from your lashes.

Felix wheezed. “Mama looks like a sea monster!”

“Watch it,” you warned, splashing water at them both, but they only laughed harder.

Kaiser leaned in, brushing a soggy strand of hair from your cheek with zero remorse. “You still look hot, by the way.”

“Flattery won’t save you,” you muttered, and pushed him to the water.

Kaiser accepted your rejection with a dramatic groan, hands lifted in surrender, and let himself flop backward into the sea. Water splashed up around him as he sank, arms splayed like a fallen martyr.

Felix immediately swam over with enthusiastic strokes, his little arms slicing through the water with impressive determination. The waves barely came up to your hips, but to him, it was the open ocean.

You swept your hair back, still wet and clinging to your cheeks, and watched as your two troublemakers rejoined like magnets.

“Throw me again!” Felix demanded breathlessly while jumping like a kangaroo.

“Nah,” Kaiser replied with mock laziness, leaning back on his elbows in the water.

“Please!”

With an exaggerated sigh, Kaiser stood up and hoisted Felix effortlessly into his arms. But instead of tossing him right away, he began spinning him around in slow, exaggerated motions, one arm cradling his back, the other under his knees like he was lifting a sack of potatoes.

Felix shrieked in delight and mild panic, flailing as he was held upside-down, sideways, and every which way. “You’re doing it wrong!”

“That’s the only way I do things,” Kaiser said smugly.

Then, without warning, he launched the boy into the air with perfect form, like a human trebuchet. Felix went soaring with a high-pitched scream and belly-flopped spectacularly into the water.

You gasped, hand flying to your mouth. “Michael!” You smacked his arm. “Don’t throw him like your dad again!”

Kaiser, clearly unrepentant, wore the smug grin of a man who had just nailed a personal best. “That throw had finesse.”

“Finesse my ass,” you muttered, eyes darting to the water. “Felix, baby, you okay?”

The boy resurfaced with a splash, blinking water from his lashes and grinning like a gremlin. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You froze. “What?!”

You turned to Michael, aghast. “Was it you?!”

Kaiser raised both hands in mock innocence. “What? Me? No, of course not.”

He casually turned and began swimming away, shoulders hunched in retreat, but you weren’t letting him off that easy.

“Oh no, you’re not leaving like this,” you said, wading after him. You reached out and grabbed those infamous rat tails.

“OW-!” he yelped, flailing backward as you tugged him toward you.

“You taught our son to swear!” you accused, dragging him through the water like a soaked cat.

Michael turned with a sheepish smile, saltwater dripping from his lashes. “In my defence…he used it correctly.”

You sighed, releasing his braids with a splash. “You’re impossible.”

“But sexy” he added with a wink, rubbing his head dramatically like he’d been mortally wounded.

Felix ran toward you both again, bright-eyed and fearless. “Your turn!”

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly, stepping back as both boys turned on you with matching, mischievous glints in their eyes.

Kaiser smirked. “You said ‘absolutely.’ That’s halfway to ‘abso-fucking-lutely.’”

You shoved his head in the water.

Itoshi Rin

The sun hung high above the glittering sea, casting shimmers across the calm, glassy waves of the portuguese coastline. It was one of those rare, perfect afternoons, quiet except for the gentle hush of waves and the soft voices of your little family.

Rin sat cross-legged beside Masako on the beach towel, carefully applying sunscreen to her porcelain-smooth shoulders. She sat perfectly still, hands folded in her lap like a little empress awaiting her coronation.

“You can go now,” she said politely once he’d finished, flashing him a soft smile.

Rin arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He was used to taking orders from this particular seven-year-old.

“Papa, let’s go!” Masako said, standing up and smoothing down her pink ribbon swimsuit. “Let’s build a castle.”

“Castle,” Rin repeated flatly, rising to his feet.

“Hum,” she nodded with approval.

He gathered her carefully curated beach toy set and followed her down to the damp shoreline. Masako stopped just before the tide and knelt, picking up a stick. With slow, precise strokes, she drew an intricate floor plan in the wet sand.

“This is the main hall. That’s the tower. I want the bridge here,” she pointed decisively.

Rin crouched beside her, already scooping and shaping as instructed.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he muttered, eyeing the spot she wanted the bridge to span.

Masako turned to him with a serene expression and said, “Everything is possible when you’re the one doing it.”

He paused, sighed softly, then resumed digging.

Soon Rin was carving out a small moat-like pool, carefully shaping the edge with his hands. Masako knelt beside it and dipped her fingers in.

“The water is warm,” she said thoughtfully. “But I want it colder.”

Then, daintily, she brushed the sand off her swimsuit using a little scoop of seawater, stood, and grabbed her father’s hand. “Let’s ask Mama to come with us.”

She took off running toward you, her long dark braid bouncing behind her.

“Mamaaa!” Masako called sweetly, sliding to a stop beside your sunbed.

You opened one eye “What’s up, baby?”

“Stop tanning and go to the ocean with us,” she said as if it were a polite royal decree.

You laughed, rising with a stretch. “Alright, alright. Let me put more sunscreen on Papa first.”

Masako turned on her heel with regal flair, already retrieving her donut-shaped floater. She marched toward the sea like a model on a runway, head high, arms poised.

Meanwhile, Rin stood with his eyes narrowed as you approached him with the sunscreen bottle.

“You burn so easily,” you teased, dabbing some on his cheeks. “Don't make that face.”

He didn’t reply, but leaned into your touch slightly as you smeared the cream across his nose.

A few minutes later, the three of you walked into the water together. The waves were cool against your legs, refreshing and playful. Masako let out a soft, delighted sound when the first splash kissed her ankles.

She held up her hand like a little princess awaiting a royal escort. Rin took it wordlessly and led her forward, her donut floater bobbing behind her.

In deeper water, Masako twirled with the grace of a ballerina, her float spinning with her. “I’m a ballerina!” she declared, holding out her arms.

Rin turned to her stiffly, arms half-raised as if unsure what to do with them.

“Papa,” Masako said with perfect seriousness, “you have to act like a gentleman. Not like Slender Man.”

Rin froze mid-movement.

From behind them, you burst into laughter. “It’s his nature, sweetie.”

Masako giggled and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. You’re still my gentleman.”

And with that, he bent slightly at the waist and gave her the most dignified nod he could manage, just before she twirled again, splashing both of you with seawater.

You waded a little deeper into the sea, the water cool and refreshing as it lapped against your waist. Holding Masako’s small hands, you guided her carefully through the gentle swells. She hummed softly to herself, some delicate, dreamy tune she’d likely made up on the spot, her expression serene as always.

Her donut-shaped floater bobbed up and down with the waves, and she rode them like a queen on a pink throne, chin slightly raised, posture impeccable. Every so often she glanced toward Rin, who mirrored her pace in the water, keeping just enough distance to let her feel independent, but always close enough to catch her if she slipped.

The waves rolled in slow and calm, until they didn’t.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a larger swell forming in the distance. Rin noticed too. Calmly, he reached for Masako’s hands again. Then, just before the wave hit, he let go and gave her floater a gentle push toward shore.

She laughed, spinning slightly as the wave lifted her and carried her forward like a sea princess on parade.

Her floater touched the shallows, and she began to wriggle out of it, preparing to stand gracefully and stroll back to you like she was disembarking from a yacht.

But Poseidon had other plans.

Another wave came crashing down, larger, sudden, and completely uninvited. It hit her squarely in the back and sent her tumbling forward in a surprise backflip. Legs in the air. Head under. The kind of wave only siblings and the ocean could deliver.

She resurfaced seconds later, hair plastered to her face, pink swimsuit full of sand, mouth full of seawater, and completely stunned.

You let out a loud laugh

Masako paused. Composed herself with startling grace. Smoothed her hair back with both hands and stood up like nothing happened, only slightly staggering as more sand shifted under her feet.

She swam back to you with quiet dignity, though her swimsuit sagged a little from the weight of seawater and her braid looked like a mop. Her cheeks were pink. Her silence, deadly.

Rin, watching from where he stood in the water, had a very small, very smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You leaned down, still laughing. “That was the most elegant backflip I’ve ever seen.”

Masako huffed “I’ve decided,” she announced with great seriousness, “we are not friends with the ocean anymore.”

Rin raised an eyebrow. “You just said it was your kingdom.”

She glared at the sea like it had personally betrayed her. “It’s a rebellious province now.”

After the great betrayal by the ocean and her royal decree to disown it, Masako seemed to recover her mood. She held out her hands toward Rin, her expression once again softened, grace restored.

“Swing me, Papa,” she said sweetly.

Without hesitation, Rin took her hands, gently lifting her in slow, swooping circles over the water. She giggled as her legs skimmed the surface, droplets sparkling in the air like seafoam.

You swam closer, smiling as you floated nearby, soaking in the calm moment. The three of you drifted like that for a while, the sun painting golden ripples across the water, everything blissfully normal, like a picture of a healthy, balanced family.

Until Masako suddenly gasped, her mouth forming a perfect little "O" of discovery.

Her eyes locked onto something just behind you.

A little girl floated by in the shallows, lounging like a sea queen in a pastel purple mermaid float, complete with glitter fins and a tiny raised tail that bobbed with each wave.

Masako pointed instantly, urgency in her voice.

“I want one!”

You turned, squinting. “The mermaid?”

“Yes!” she said. “I need it!”

Rin blinked. “You already have seven floaters.”

“No, I have this donut,” she began, counting off on her fingers, “the unicorn, the turtle, the Disney princess one, the shark, the white duck, six. And now I want the mermaid!”

“That’s seven,” Rin deadpanned.

Masako pouted, hands folded over the edge of her donut like a mini lawyer preparing for trial. “You said math isn’t everything when we went to the aquarium and I got the dolphin toy.”

“That’s not what I-” “Pleaseeeeeee?” she asked, voice full of manufactured sweetness and ocean sparkle, dragging the word out like it might hypnotize him.

Rin stared at her. Then stared at you. You shrugged. “It’s really cute.”

He sighed heavily, as if agreeing was the worst possible fate.

Masako beamed.

The next morning, she strutted across the beach in her brand-new mermaid float. Donut forgotten. Order restored. Ocean forgiven.

Except she didn’t dare take it into the water. Not even once.

Instead, she carefully dragged it to the perfect sunny spot, plopped herself inside with a pair of pink sunglasses, and used it as her royal beach throne, for sunbathing only. "Are you kidding me," said Rin flatly, arms crossed as he looked down at her.

Masako pushed her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose with one finger, acting just like Miranda Priestley from The Devil Wears Prada, and said coolly, “I don’t do peasant activities.”

“And what could they be?” he asked, already bracing himself.

She pointed toward a group of kids playing in the sand, hair tangled, bodies streaked in sunblock and grit, chasing each other like little goblins. “That,” she declared.

Rin sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who do you think you are?”

“The royalty,” she replied without missing a beat, crossing her legs dramatically in her glittery mermaid float like she was lounging on a yacht.

Rin just stared at her, defeated.

Itoshi Sae

The moment her sandals hit the sand, Kimiko took a deep breath and turned to you with the poise of a six-year-old dictator. One hand on her hip, the other gesturing grandly to the ocean, she launched into a monologue.

“So! First of all, frogs can breathe through their skin. Did you know that? And zebras, zebras are actually black with white stripes, not white with black, Mama, are you listening? Because I’m talking.”

You nodded patiently. “Of course I’m listening, baby.”

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Sae silently slipped the inflatable shoulder floaties, onto Haruki’s thin little arms. Haruki blinked once, completely unbothered by the world. The sun, the sand, the fact his sister was halfway through an impromptu TED Talk, it all washed over him like background noise.

“You two are already going to the water?” you called as Sae started walking away, Haruki’s hand in his.

“Hum,” was all he offered, monotone as ever.

Kimiko spun around like she’d just been personally betrayed.

“You have to wait for the sunscreen to set! That’s what the bottle says! You’ll get burnt and then cry, and then-”

“Kimiko,” Sae interrupted flatly, “don’t yell like a seagull.”

Before you could even try to intervene, she grabbed her rainbow floater and took off after them in a huff.

“Kimiko! I need to put sunscreen on your face-!” Too late. She was halfway to the water, dragging the float behind her like a warrior hauling a battle flag.

Kimiko marched across the sand with righteous fury, dragging her rainbow floater behind her like she was leading a revolution. She stopped just behind Sae and Haruki, arms crossed, her little chest puffed up with indignation.

“You have to wait for it to set!” she barked, voice sharp and precise. “You can’t just go in without protection.

Sae didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. Just looked over his shoulder at her with the expression of a man being lectured by someone half his height and six years old.

“You always talk like you run a spa,” he said flatly. “We’re going in the water, not doing skincare commercials.”

Sae looked down at Haruki, who blinked up at him like a silent witness. Then he looked back at Kimiko.

“So are you coming,” he asked casually, “or are you gonna stand there yelling like a sunburnt pelican?”

Kimiko opened her mouth. Closed it. Let out a high-pitched noise of disbelief. “I was trying to help!”

Haruki quietly resumed smacking the water with his hands like a bored seal.

Sae raised an eyebrow, turning toward the waves again. “Suit yourself.”

Kimiko stood frozen, completely scandalized, before letting out a dramatic huff. “I’m not going!” she snapped.

“Good,” Sae replied. “Less noise in the water.”

Kimiko watched them, bottom lip trembling. Her fists tightened at her sides. Her pride waged war with her feelings for a good three seconds, then she tossed her floater dramatically onto the sand and turned on her heel.

You were just finishing rubbing sunscreen onto your calves when she returned, dragging her feet. Her brows were furrowed, lips wobbling, and her dark eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey…” you said softly, sitting up straighter. “What happened, baby?”

“I don’t want to be with them anymore,” she said, sniffing hard. “Papa’s mean. Haruki doesn’t care. I’m cold. My feet are sandy. And I was trying to help.”

You opened your arms, and she crawled into your lap like she was still two, her little body warm and trembling from holding in frustration.

You kissed the top of her head. “I know, sweetheart. You were trying to take care of them, huh?”

She nodded, pressing her forehead into your shoulder.

“They don’t even deserve your floater,” you whispered conspiratorially.

“I know,” she mumbled, wiping her tears.

You smiled gently, brushing her hair back. “Want to build a castle with me instead?”

She sniffled. “Will you listen to my frog facts?”

“Only if you promise to tell me everything.”

You and Kimiko had moved on from heartbreak to architecture, both of you hunched over a slowly growing sand kingdom near the umbrella. With her tiny pink shovel and an intense sense of focus, she directed construction like a tiny CEO. Every now and then she'd sniff dramatically, just to remind the world she was still mad.

Then, out of nowhere, came the sound of feet pattering over wet sand.

“Mommm!” Haruki called out, wobbling slightly as he approached, carrying something heavy in both hands.

You turned and saw him gripping a bright blue bucket, water sloshing inside. “Hmm? What is it, baby? What do you have there?”

Haruki didn’t say a word, just tilted the bucket toward you.

Inside: six crabs scrambling across wet sand, trying to escape.

Your eyes widened. “Woooow! Did you catch them yourself?”

Haruki blinked once. “No. Papa did.”

Sure enough, Sae trailed behind at his usual calm pace, a second bucket in his hand. Probably collecting sea water to keep the crabs happy, or alive. Hard to tell with him.

“Wow, they’re so cool,” you said, beaming at your son and gently tapping the rim of the bucket.

Kimiko, still kneeling at her castle-in-progress, didn’t even look up. Her lips were pursed. Her shovel was stabbing sand like she meant it.

Sae finally stopped a few feet away, glancing at his daughter.

“Are you still gonna keep fuming at me?”

Silence.

She didn’t even blink.

“I don’t like you,” she replied coldly, voice sharp like cracked seashells.

Sae’s brows lifted a fraction, but you saw it. The dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hmm,” he hummed.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he tilted his second bucket and dumped the cold seawater directly on her back.

Kimiko let out a scream so high-pitched a flock of seagulls took off behind you.

she sobbed, face scrunching up as fat tears spilled down her cheeks. “You ruined everything!”

You gasped. “Sae!”

He blinked once. “She looked hot.”

“Sae!”

Kimiko turned to you in despair, both arms��stiff at her sides. “I didn’t even finish my castle!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you said, quickly reaching for a clean towel.

You wrapped it around her gently, kneeling to dry off her arms as she sniffled dramatically. Her mouth was still wobbling, her eyes red with fury. Even as she let you pull her into your lap, her tiny fists were clenched inside the towel.

Haruki, completely unaffected by the drama, crouched by the crab bucket again. He studied the little creatures as they scrambled around inside, then calmly reached in and grabbed one with his tiny fingers, like he did it every day of his life.

You watched him with a mix of pride and concern. “Haruki, careful-”

He stood up and turned toward his sister, crab wiggling in his hand.

“Do you want it?” he asked, holding it out to her like a gift.

Kimiko turned, saw the crab’s tiny legs twitching and absolutely lost it.

“AAAAH!!” she screamed, throwing her arms up in panic and nearly knocking the towel off. “GET AWAY FROM ME!!"

Haruki blinked, unfazed. “It’s just moving”

“I don’t want it! I don’t want it!!”

You couldn’t help it, you burst out laughing.

Sae, now squatting nearby like a man enjoying the chaos he started, tilted his head. “You said you liked marine life.”

“I meant dolphins!” Kimiko cried, dramatically burying her face into your shoulder.

Haruki shrugged and walked off with the crab, mumbling something about naming it Doraemon.

You patted Kimiko’s back gently. “No more crabs, promise. Just princess castles and sunscreen.”

She sniffled one last time. “And dolphins.”

“Of course.”

Sae leaned back, eyes on the sea. “She’s definitely your daughter.”

You smiled. “Oh really? I was about to say she’s all you.”

After the chaos with the screaming and the cold splash, Sae and Haruki returned to the shoreline, a bucket full of squirming, twitchy crabs in tow.

They knelt near the water’s edge, Haruki squinting at the shifting tide.

“Daddy, look! A seagull!” Haruki pointed with his whole arm, his voice full of wonder.

Sae followed his gaze lazily. “Hm. Yes. A seagull.”

“Can I give it the crabs?”

Sae glanced down at him, half-lidded eyes calm as ever. “Do what you want.”

And so Haruki did.

One by one, he plucked the crabs from the bucket and lobbed them toward the unsuspecting seagull. The bird jumped, flapped wildly, and then pecked curiously at the offering. None of the crabs made it to safety except one.

“Can you catch the seagull?” Haruki asked suddenly.

“Why?” Sae raised an eyebrow.

“It’s like a duck.”

That made something flicker in Sae’s expression, half disbelief, half amusement. He let out a soft chuckle, rare and short-lived. “You want to eat it?”

“Yes,” Haruki said, completely serious.

“You know we can’t.”

Sae stood up, brushing sand from his hands before grabbing Haruki’s small one.

“Let’s find another crab and put it on your sister’s head.”

Haruki nodded like it was a noble quest. “She’ll scream again.”

“That’s the point,” Sae muttered.

Shidou Ryusei

You knew it was a mistake before even stepping foot on the plane. Thailand sounded like a dream getaway, until you remembered you were traveling with the human equivalent of a sugar-rushed raccoon and his pint-sized twin in spirit.

The airport? Chaos. The hotel? A war zone. Temples? You don’t even want to talk about it.

So by the time you reached the beach, your expectations were buried six feet deep in the sand.

“RYUSEI, THE SUNSCREEN!” you shouted like a lifeguard with no authority, watching two gremlins, one large, one small, bolting into the waves like wild animals. You barely managed to slather a protective layer on Shoko’s little cheeks before she escaped your grasp and leapt into the water with a feral “RAAAWRR!”

They were yelling like jungle creatures, Ryusei hunched over in the waves like some unhinged sea monster, eyes wide and mouth stretched in a toothy grin as he chased Shoko in zigzags. You caught a few concerned glances from nearby parents. You just smiled politely, mentally preparing your apology speech.

Once you’d finished laying out towels and beach bags, because of course they hadn’t thought to help, you stood at the shoreline, still in your sheer beach shirt, shielding your face from the sun.

“Ryu, come here!” you called.

“Nah, Mama! We don’t need that!” he yelled back, flicking saltwater dramatically as he twirled with Shoko clinging to his back like a barnacle.

“I’m serious!”

“Don’t be! It won’t kill me!”

“At least let me put some on your back"

But he was already swimming off with Shoko screaming gleefully, her little arms waving as she shouted.

You groaned and after like five you stepped into the water. The cool waves lapped at your legs as you waded deeper, tension loosening from your shoulders as the sea pulled at you.

You reached Shoko, who had now migrated to her yellow duck floater, bobbing like royalty. You swam beside her, gently holding the float as she kicked her feet and hummed something vaguely off-key.

“Where did your dad go?” you muttered, scanning the surface. The water was deep enough now to reach your chest, and there was no pink-haired chaos gremlin in sight.

Then-

Something grabbed your legs.

You shrieked, flailing on instinct.

Suddenly, two strong arms hoisted you up, and the next thing you knew, you were on Shidou’s shoulders, high above the waves, hands gripping his damp hair for dear life.

“RYUSEI, PUT ME DOWN!” you yelled, voice half panic, half fury, hair dripping seawater over your face.

“Anything for my beautiful wife!” he chirped like this was some kind of honeymoon.

Before you could deliver a proper threat, he grinned wickedly, grabbed your ankles, and pushed them up. Your body tilted backward like a ragdoll, and with a scream, you went tumbling into the sea behind him, hitting the water with a dramatic splash.

You surfaced with a gasp, soaked, furious, and already planning his funeral.

Shoko was cackling, nearly tipping out of her duck.

Shidou swam over, smug as ever, pushing his wet hair back. “You look majestic”

And just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, Shidou decided it was crab-hunting time.

“Shoko, be careful-” you warned, eyes flicking over from where you were prepping snacks on the mat, trying to enjoy at least five minutes of peace.

“Let’s catch dinner, Shoko!” he interrupted gleefully, already jogging toward the rockier part of the coast, your five-year-old cackling as she bolted after him, plastic bucket swinging in her grip.

You blinked. “Dinner?”

By the time you looked up again, Shidou was climbing onto the rocks, water splashing over the stone as waves rolled in, and he had the audacity to lift Shoko higher, like she wasn’t a tiny human with fragile limbs and zero fear.

You dropped the fruit container with a sigh that turned into a growl and marched across the sand, heart racing.

“RYUSEI, GET OUT OF THERE!”

“Woman, calm down,” he called without looking back, that stupid grin plastered across his face as he dunked a crab into Shoko’s bucket.

“Ha! Daddy, this is the biggest one so far!”

“Shoko, get down! You’ll slip!”

“I won’t, Mommy. Don’t worry!” she placed the bucket down and started crawling toward another crab, her little hands and feet finding shaky purchase.

“Shoko--RYU--goddamn it, GET HER!”

“Uuuh~, another crab!” Shidou announced like he was hosting a cooking show. “This one’s small, right Shoko?”

“Yes, we don’t need it.”

“Have it, Mama.” And he threw it.

At. You.

You yelped, leaping back as the crab landed in the sand at your feet like it had been launched from a trebuchet. “Are you INSANE?!”

“Daddy! There’s a big one righ-ah!”

Her scream made your soul leave your body.

You saw her hand slip on the wet rock, her little body tilting sideways.

“SHOKO!”

But before panic fully kicked in, Shidou moved like lightning. He dropped the crab, lunged, and caught her mid-fall with a grunt, pulling her tight against his chest.

“Gotcha,” he said, breathless.

You didn’t move. You just stood there, pale, heart thudding, fists clenched.

Shidou glanced at you, then smirked.

“Get. Down. Here.”

That did it. He and Shoko finally took your words seriously, making their slow descent from the rocks. The moment Shidou’s feet touched the sand, you stormed over and grabbed his ear like he was your third, most difficult child.

“We. Are. Going. Home.”

“Noooo, Mommmm!” Shoko whined, holding the crab bucket protectively.

“No crabs. No more swimming. No more fun,” you said, dragging your overgrown gremlin of a husband away by the ear.

He pouted. “You're being dramatic.”

You glared at him. “Wait until tomorrow when your body feels like it’s on fire.”

He rolled his eyes.

He stopped rolling his eyes at 2 a.m., when he woke up screaming with the worst sunburn of his life.

You, of course, offered no sympathy. Just aloe vera, and a smirk.

The crabs were released. Shoko forgave you.

Shidou? Not so much.

But that was his problem.

Next year? Mountain vacation.

No crabs allowed.

Isagi Yoichi

The first thing you did when you stepped onto the beach was let out a long, satisfied sigh. The warm sand under your feet, the salty breeze tugging at your clothes, and the sun casting a golden shimmer over the ocean, it was perfect.

“Feels so good,” you murmured, closing your eyes for just a second of peace. “What do you think, Isamu?”

No answer.

You turned.

There he was, standing beside you in his little sunhat and sandals… completely glued to his Nintendo.

“Isamu,” you said, unamused.

Still no answer.

So you did what any mother would do, you snatched it from his hands.

“NOO!!” he whined, arms flailing as he jumped for it. “Give it back!”

“What did I tell you about bringing games on vacation?” you scolded, holding it up like a trophy out of reach. “You need vitamin D!”

He pouted, kicking the sand dramatically like a boy betrayed. “This IS my vitamin D…”

“And where’s your father?” you asked, scanning the beach.

You spotted Isagi already at the assigned beach chairs, setting up the towels like the responsible MVP dad he was. “Oh. He’s already there…” you muttered. You sighed again, less relaxed this time, and walked over to help him.

Once you’d gotten everything in place, you finally walked back over to where your boys had started kicking a soccer ball between them.

“Wanna go to the water with me?” you asked sweetly.

“Yeah sure-” Isagi started.

“No,” Isamu cut in flatly, not even looking at you as he flicked the ball back to his dad.

“Why not?” Isagi frowned.

“I wanna play soccer with you,” Isamu said, determined.

“We’ve been kicking the ball for fifteen minutes.”

“I’m not done.”

They launched into a low-grade argument, Isamu passionately arguing for just five more minutes and Isagi trying to remind him that even pro players take breaks. You just shrugged, gave them a little wave, and walked off to the water.

You floated in the waves, enjoying the serenity, alone with your thoughts and the sound of gulls overhead. It was blissful. But the second you turned to look back at shore, you spotted your boys still at it, and Isamu now begging for something.

“Dad, get me ice cream.”

“You already had two before we even left the hotel,” Isagi replied, clearly exhausted.

“I want another one,” Isamu whined, retrieving his Nintendo (from your beach bag, no less) like it was his emotional support device.

“I think that’s enough screen time for today...” Isagi said with a sigh, glancing at the water. His eyes softened when he saw you, drifting peacefully in the waves, completely detached from the father-son showdown on land.

He wanted to join you so badly.

But he couldn’t leave Isamu alone.

“Will you go in the water if I get you an ice cream?” he bargained.

“No.”

“Then no ice cream.”

“…Fine. I will.”

“Then c’mon,” Isagi said, standing up. “Let’s go to the beach café, and then we’ll swim.”

Isamu stood up, eyes still glued to the screen.

Isagi rolled his eyes, took the Nintendo from his son’s hands, and zipped it firmly back into the bag.

“And we are leaving that here.”

“NOO”

They strolled across the warm boardwalk toward the little beach café, sandals kicking up dust.

“So, what ice cream do you want?” Isagi asked, glancing down at his son.

Isamu stared at the freezer like it held the secrets of the universe. “Uhhh…this watermelon-shaped one. No, wait—the Oreo one. Nah… the, uh… the, wait, no, um…”

Isagi’s patient smile slowly faded as Isamu’s brain short-circuited under the weight of too many options. “I’m not buying you anything if you keep nagging,” he said flatly.

“Vanilla,” Isamu blurted.

“Fine.”

“Strawberry.”

Isagi sighed through his nose, rubbing his temples.

They finally left the café, Isamu holding a two-scoop vanilla-mint cone like it was a trophy, tongue already painted faint green.

“Is it good?” Isagi asked.

“Hm,” Isamu mumbled, too absorbed in the dessert to give a real answer.

“Good. Now hurry up and eat it so we can go meet your mom.”

“Take the ball,” Isamu added, holding it out with sticky hands.

Isagi blinked. “Magic word?”

“Please.”

“…Fine.”

You were floating near the shore, sunlight glinting off the water as you lazily kicked your legs. The breeze tickled your skin and the waves gently bobbed you like a buoy. For a moment, it was heaven.

Then you spotted them.

“Finally,” you called, pushing damp hair out of your eyes. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah,” Isagi muttered, wading in beside you, one arm holding the soccer ball and the other herding a very full Isamu. “We’re here. And he’s had his third ice cream of the day.”

“The water’s cold,” Isamu announced dramatically, dipping in toe-first before slowly letting his body float with the help of the soccer ball clutched under his arms like a life ring.

“You don’t need floaters Isamu?” you asked, smiling as you swam over to wrap your arms around Isagi’s shoulders, letting him hold you close in the water.

“I don’t” Isamu mumbled stubbornly, paddling his feet in place and clinging to the ball like a sea otter.

“He’s so cute,” you whispered, nose brushing Isagi’s cheek.

Isagi leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his hair tickling your forehead.

You grinned.

“Ew,” Isamu deadpanned from a few feet away.

“Sorry?” Isagi called, eyebrows raised.

“Disgusting,” Isamu said louder, turning his back to you dramatically. Then, without warning, he kicked both feet out, splashing water right into your faces.

“ISAMU!” you yelped through laughter, wiping your eyes.

“I didn’t see anything,” he declared innocently. “I was just swimming.”

“Oh, you little-” Isagi lunged playfully, sending another splash his way while Isamu squealed and paddled away as fast as he could, giggling like a maniac.

After drying off and towel-wrapping Isamu like a spring roll, you settled onto the lounge chair with a cold drink and a wide-brimmed hat. Meanwhile, your boys couldn’t sit still for more than two seconds.

“Let’s go, Dad!” Isamu chirped, already bouncing the ball between his feet.

“Didn’t we just come out of the water?” Isagi asked, towel still draped over his shoulders.

But Isamu had already run ahead to an open patch of sand, looking back expectantly. Isagi sighed and jogged after him.

The next ten minutes were filled with laughter, sand flying, and father-son one-touch passes. Isamu was getting bolder with each kick, trying to copy every trick Isagi demonstrated, even if it meant falling on his butt half the time.

“Alright, last one before we head back,” Isagi said, dusting his hands.

Isamu nodded, eyes sparkling with determination. He pulled his leg back for what he clearly thought would be the most powerful kick of his life.

“Careful with th-”

Too late.

The ball shot��through the air like a cannonball, and nailed a little girl in the face as she walked by, ice cream splattering dramatically.

Everyone froze.

“Oh no,” Isamu whispered, eyes wide.

“Shit” Isagi muttered.

Nagi Seishiro

Having Shizuku with you was like having a tiny angel, calm, sweet, and never demanding too much. If only you could say the same for your husband.

It had been nearly an hour since your feet hit the warm sand, and Nagi Seishiro had done absolutely nothing but sleep under the umbrella, his hoodie pulled over his face like he was avoiding reality. You looked over at him, sprawled like royalty, arms folded, lips parted slightly, and drool dangerously close to escaping.

Meanwhile, your daughter had been content enough with you, eating a small vanilla ice cream, giggling when it dripped on her hand, and building modest sandcastles shaped like lumpy clouds. But eventually, her gaze wandered to a group of kids near the shoreline, splashing around in little dug-out tide pools. One in particular caught her eye.

“I want to make a pool,” Shizuku said softly, pointing.

You brushed some sand off your legs and smiled. “Sure.”

“With papa.”

You followed her eyes back to the umbrella where Nagi remained deeply committed to his beach nap.

“Sei…” you nudged his side gently with your foot. “Seiii…”

A groggy “hmm~?” came from beneath the hoodie.

“Make a pool for your daughter.”

“A pool?” he mumbled, already curling tighter. “Such a hassle…”

“Come on, don’t make her dig it herself,” you coaxed.

A pause. Then a long, dramatic sigh. “Hm… fine.”

With his usual slouchy gait, he dragged himself off the towel and joined the two of you in front of the sandcastle ruins. Shizuku looked up at him with quiet excitement, holding a small red plastic shovel.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, squatting beside her.

“Here,” she said, pointing at a patch of damp sand closer to the tide.

He grabbed a plastic pail and started scooping.

“You know we have an ocean ten feet away, right?” he muttered.

Shizuku was gently patting a mound into a wall. “The ocean water is cold.”

“Then why not ask your mom?”

“You rarely play with me.”

His hands stilled.

He looked up at her, blinking slowly, that guilty pang landing somewhere in the middle of his chest. Shizuku wasn’t the kind to complain, she barely raised her voice when she wanted something. For her to say it… it meant she’d been thinking about it.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

Shizuku turned to him, her cheeks pink from the sun, and smiled. “It’s okay. I still love you.”

Nagi exhaled, then gave her head a gentle pat. “I love you too, Zuku.”

He got back to digging, more focused now. The pool was sloppy, but wide enough. He started dragging buckets of water over from the sea, sloshing most of it out along the way, but trying.

Shizuku giggled as she smoothed the edges with her hands. “This is the best pool.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Because you made it.”

Nagi looked over at you then, you were watching, chin resting on your hand, lips curled in a smile.

“…Not bad for a hassle,” he murmured.

Shizuku sat back, satisfied, as her little pool glimmered under the sun. Plastic toys floated lazily on the surface, her rubber dolphin, a chipped pink shovel, and a yellow cup shaped like a duck. You were dusting your hands off after finishing the last bit of the sand wall she asked for when she reached up and tugged at her father’s sleeve.

“Papa,” she said, gripping her small blue bucket. “Let’s get more water.”

Nagi blinked at her slowly, then glanced at the nearly full pool.

“Still not enough?” he murmured with a yawn, but took her hand anyway.

You smiled watching them walk to the edge of the ocean together, your sleepy husband matching her tiny barefoot steps, both of them silent in that serene, quiet way they shared. They came back moments later, carefully pouring more salt water into their handmade pool. After a few tries, it was full.

Shizuku then busied herself again, searching nearby patches of sand. “I want shells. And pretty rocks.”

“Mm,” Nagi hummed, dropping lazily onto the towel beside you.

She returned a few minutes later with a palm full of damp, glistening things. “Papa, what do you think of this one?”

Nagi sat up slightly and peered at the flat speckled stone in her hand. “Hm… it’s pretty.”

You leaned over and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder to take a look too. “Yeah, sweetheart, it’s beautiful.”

Time passed peacefully, until Shizuku stood up again, staring out toward the sea.

“I want to try going to the water.”

You blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“I want to learn how to swim.”

You grinned and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. “Alright. Let’s get your floaters hm?”

You carried it over your shoulder, adjusting their straps as Shizuku held her father’s hand. Nagi walked beside her, more alert now, already watching the water patterns. When the tide brushed her toes, she squeaked and jumped back.

“It’s cold,” she murmured, tucking behind Nagi’s leg.

“Shizuku, it’s okay,” you said softly. “You’ll get used to it, promise.”

It took… a while

Shizuku sat like a queen in her floater throne, legs tucked, arms relaxed over the sides, slowly drifting back and forth with the tiny waves. You and Nagi sat beside her in the sand, the sun warm, your feet buried. Nagi had his hand lazily resting on the edge of her float, keeping her from floating off too far.

“This is nice,” you murmured.

“Mm,” Nagi agreed with a yawn, eyes half closed.

Then the ocean had other plans.

A new wave appeared in the distance. It didn’t seem that big. Just… a little suspicious. You squinted.

“Sei… that one looks kinda-”

Too late.

The wave came in fast, suddenly not so little. It barreled in with the force of a caffeine-rushed toddler and slapped right into Shizuku’s float. The girl let out the tiniest “hm?” before the entire donut flipped dramatically, legs up, arms flailing, one plastic toy flying like it was ejected from a spaceship.

“WHOA-” Nagi lunged for her like he was doing a beach version of a FIFA save. He caught her mid-splash, but the wave wasn’t done yet.

It smacked both of them like a giant wet pancake and dragged them backwards like socks in a laundry cycle.

You stood up, mouth open in shock as you watched your husband and daughter being politely escorted by the ocean eight full feet downshore, looking like soggy laundry drifting away.

“SEI?!”

“Mmgh I got her,” Nagi replied, barely lifting his head above the water. He sat up with seaweed stuck to his hair and Shizuku dangling over his shoulder like a soaked burrito.

Shizuku blinked slowly, clearly trying to understand what dimension she had just entered. She had a clump of wet sand on her cheek and a single plastic dolphin toy wedged into her armpit.

“Papa… the ocean betrayed me,” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” Nagi coughed, looking mildly offended. “That wave was aggressive.”

You ran to them as they returned like two castaways from a shipwreck. Shizuku didn’t even cry, just looked incredibly done with nature. (she’s never stepping a foot on the ocean again)

Nagi plopped down on the sand with a grunt, holding her upright like a broken action figure.

“She still wants to learn how to swim?” he asked you, blinking away saltwater.

“I think we just learned how not to.”

After the chaos of the wave incident, Shizuku officially called it quits on beach life.

She didn’t whine, didn’t cry, just quietly wrapped her arms around her dad’s neck and mumbled something about “not trusting wet things anymore.” Nagi, soaked to the bone, didn’t protest. He sat on the shaded lounge chair like a human towel rack while Shizuku curled up in his lap like a little dumpling, wrapped in a dry towel from head to toe, only her nose poking out.

You brought them a warm juice box and sighed as you watched your daughter knock out completely in Nagi’s arms, her tiny breaths matching the rhythm of the ocean.

“She’s done for the day,” you murmured, pulling your phone out. Nagi looked up, a strand of seaweed still clinging to his hair like it lived there now.

“Don’t take a pic,” he groaned softly.

Click.

Too late. You zoomed in. Nagi’s arm wrapped securely around her, his other hand lazily draped over the towel like a cat napping in the sun. His face was still a little squished from the wave attack, hair sticking in weird directions, but the moment was perfect.

“You look like you just survived a shipwreck,” you teased.

He peeked one eye open. “Feels like it.”

You chuckled and sat beside them, resting your head against his shoulder.

The ocean roared, kids screamed in the distance, and yet here you three were, silent, warm, sun-kissed, and completely still.

Vacation chaos? Absolutely.

But moments like this?

Worth every wave.

Alexis Ness

You thought it would start the vacation well? Oh, you were totally wrong.

Your little kids were already fighting over beach toys while you and Ness placed your things in place. You had barely finished laying out the towels when you heard the first screech.

“I got it first!” Emma whined, pulling the red shovel to her chest “But it’s mine!” Hugo grunted, tugging it back with both hands like it was a medieval sword.

You looked up from the bag of snacks you were organizing, already regretting not packing earplugs. Ness, meanwhile, stood with his hands on his hips, sighing like a man preparing to walk into a hurricane.

And then, Hugo bit her.

“OUCH!” Emma shrieked, clutching her finger like she’d been maimed.

“Papa! He bit me!”

“She’s lying!” Hugo snapped, eyes wide with faux innocence.

Ness didn’t flinch. He walked over calmly, in full Dad mode. “Give me the toys. All of them.”

Hugo reluctantly handed over the bag full of plastic shovels, buckets, and a tiny rake like it was a national treasure.

“Apologize to your sister.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Ness smiled the way a patient executioner might. “Fine. Then no toys for either of you until you both settle it.”

Cue the dramatics. Emma let out a wail and plopped down on the towel, arms crossed. Hugo threw himself onto the sand and stared at the sky like life had no meaning. It was silent warfare.

Meanwhile, you were trying to make lunch with the portable cooler balanced on your lap, slicing fruit like this was a survival challenge.

Ten minutes passed. Neither child moved an inch toward the other. Just passive-aggressive silence and the occasional glance of death.

You and Ness, side by side now in the shade, were deep in a conversation about some ridiculous thing that happened at work last week. It almost felt like a date—if your date had a background track of grumpy children sighing every thirty seconds.

“Emma, do you want some fruit salad?” you asked, offering the chilled container as you knelt by her.

“No,” she muttered, not sparing you a glance as she angrily dug her heel into the sand, creating a sad, stubborn little crater.

“Alright… Hugo?” you turned, spotting your son sitting with his arms crossed and his lower lip sticking out like he was chewing on it.

“Hugooo.”

“What,” he replied without moving.

“Want some fruit salad?”

“No!”

You huffed, louder this time, and stuffed the container back into one of the beach bags. “Fine.”

You dusted off your hands and stood, grabbing Ness’s wrist like a lifeline. “Let’s have a walk.”

“No.”

“No,” the kids echoed in perfect unison, like gremlins.

“Why not?” you frowned, dramatically placing a hand on your hip like this was the final straw.

“We’ll get ice cream,” Ness added smoothly, already reaching for his wallet.

That did it. Their heads snapped toward him like meerkats. They stood up silently and followed like obedient ducklings.

You blinked. “They listened to you.”

Ness smirked. “They know who funds dessert.”

Now the four of you sat at a beach café. Music played softly from overhead speakers, the scent of sunscreen mixed with espresso and sea salt. People laughed, seagulls screeched, and the beach stretched in golden heat just beyond the railing. It finally felt like an actual vacation.

Hugo was at your side, quietly eating his ice cream with the most aggressive scooping motions imaginable. Emma sat across from you, next to Ness, and made sure not to look at her brother even once. She licked her cone with the delicacy of a cat pretending not to be mad.

Ness leaned forward on his elbows, looking between them. “Are you two gonna be like this for the rest of the day?”

No answer. Not even a twitch.

They both stared at their ice creams like they’d just been given divorce papers.

“I want a sister,” Emma muttered suddenly, licking a stubborn drip of strawberry ice cream off her thumb.

Ness blinked. “What?”

“I want a sister. I don’t like Hugo.”

You nearly snorted your iced coffee through your nose. Ness chuckled quietly beside you.

“Charming,” you said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I want a brother,” Hugo added from your side, not missing a beat. He didn’t even look up, just scooped another oversized bite of his vanilla-mint like it was a declaration of war.

You burst into soft laughter. Ness leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out with a smile.

“I think you two are more than enough for each other,” he said. “Trust me. No one else could handle you.”

There was a moment of silence, the café chatter humming around you like a warm breeze. Then:

“Mom should’ve been more cautious when birthing Emma,” Hugo mumbled, quiet and deadly serious.

You froze, straw halfway to your lips.

Ness turned to your son slowly. “What?”

“Where did you even hear that?” you asked, trying not to choke on a laugh. “Hugo, you’re seven.”

He gave no reply. Just kept eating his ice cream with that unreadable older-brother expression like he was pondering the mysteries of life… or Emma’s existence.

Emma, not to be outdone, calmly lifted her middle finger and pointed it right at him across the table. No emotion. No hesitation. Just a slow, theatrical gesture of tiny-sibling fury.

He looked at you, eyes amused “Next time, we’re bringing noise-canceling headphones. And duct tape.”

You leanedforward, laughter still lingering in your chest. “And birth control.”

Emma looked up innocently. “What’s that?”

“Your bedtime,” you both said at the same time.

Back on the beach, the sun was gentler now, casting a warm golden hue across the shore as the afternoon slowly leaned toward evening. Ness handed Hugo and Emma each a colorful bucket and a bright orange net, the kind used to catch unlucky butterflies.

you felt strong arms circle your waist. Ness rested his chin on your shoulder, humming softly as he watched the kids with you.

“Why did you bring the net, Emma?” he called.

She turned back toward you both, proudly holding it high like a sword. “I’m going to catch a fish!”

You stifled a laugh at her seriousness.

“You can’t even swim, idiot,” Hugo muttered behind her, squinting at the waves like he was judging their strategy.

“Shut up,” Emma snapped, but it was already too late.

Hugo shoved her with the casual cruelty of an older sibling. She toppled forward with a surprised shriek, landing face-first into the shallows, just deep enough to earn a mouthful of gritty seawater and damp humiliation.

You gasped, hand flying to your chest.

“Oh my god-” you started, but Ness didn’t move.

“She’s fine,” he said with zero concern, still holding you calmly. “Call it a life lesson.”

Emma stood up sputtering, hair soaked and tangled over her face like seaweed, sand stuck to her cheeks, eyes wild with betrayal.

“I’M TELLING MOM!”

“She is watching,” Hugo said smugly.

Emma flung her net at him like a weapon, and missed.

“Okay,” you sighed, patting Ness’s arm. “Time to play referee again.”

“You got this,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “I believe in you.”

You groaned. “Coward.”

He just grinned and tightened his arms around you, watching as chaos unfolded before you both like a perfectly scripted sibling disaster movie.

Emma had long abandoned her dreams of catching a fish.

The net now lay forgotten on the sand, tangled in seaweed like a monument to her failed hunt. Instead, she happily floated near Ness in a bright pink boat-shaped floater. she sat comfortably like a tiny captain.

“Wheee!” she squealed, kicking her legs in the water as Ness gently spun her in slow circles.

You lounged nearby in the shallows, half-submerged, arms lazily drifting at your sides as you watched them. Ness gave her a small push with both hands.

“Let’s send you to sea,” he joked.

“NO! Dad, take me back!” she shrieked, already paddling awkwardly with her hands to get closer again.

You laughed. “You made her sound like a siren.”

“I just wanted a moment of peace,” he teased, rolling his eyes fondly as he brought her back.

She grinned, dripping water and joy. “Again!”

He pushed her off again, slower this time, and she squealed dramatically like she was being cast off a pirate ship. “I’m abandoned! I’m alooooone!”

“She’s got your flair for drama,” you murmured to Ness, watching him chuckle.

But the peace didn’t last.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Hugo inching closer in the water, suspiciously quiet, and suspiciously smirking.

“Hugo,” you warned too late.

He grabbed the side of Emma’s floater and yanked hard and it flipped.

With a splash and a squeal, Emma toppled into the sea, limbs flailing like a startled octopus. Her float bobbed upside down, abandoned. She popped back up with her hair plastered to her face and sea foam in her lashes, gasping for air.

“HUGOOOO!” she roared.

Ness immediately pulled her toward him, checking her quickly. “You okay?”

Emma coughed and clung to him like a drenched koala. “He tried to murder me!”

“She’s fine,” Ness said over his shoulder to you.

“She inhaled half the ocean.”

“She’s dramatic.”

You came closer, pushing Emma’s float upright. “Hugo, get over here.”

“I was just helping her get more used to the water!” he said, shrugging like a lifeguard-in-training.

“Your sister’s going to file a lawsuit.”

“She’s got no evidence.”

Emma stuck her tongue out at him as Ness carried her back to the shallow waters. “You’re not getting my ice cream later!”

Hugo scoffed. “I’ll get dad to buy me two.”

You sighed, looking at Ness as he carried Emma back. “They’re exhausting.”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning as Emma wrapped her arms around his neck. “But they’re ours.”

119 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 2 days ago

Text

the space between us three (jyh) | ten.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut

⇢word count: 4.6k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, hwa just hella unsure and causing problems lol, typical yunho x oc being cute af, making out, a lil bit of some dry humping, flashback scene of yunho taking seora to see her mom, crying, yunho opens up to seora about his relationship and it goes south

⇢a/n: the hongjoong fic is starting! you can find it here in case you missed it <33

"Hey." You pop into Noeul's cubicle, welcoming yourself into the free chair. "How's it going?" You're taking a break after the emails briefly stopped flooding in, checking in with your bestfriend. She seems better, but you know where her mind is still at.

"Hey cutie." She looks at you. "It's been alright. Dealing with some more internal issues, but nothing too bad." She chuckles. "Finally got a minute to breathe?"

"Mhm."

"Seeing your man later?"

"Mhm." You respond in a sing-song tone. "Can't wait. Miss him."

"Cuties. Love you two."

"Have you talked to Seonghwa?" You ask, just to give her time to vent if needed.

"Nope."

"He didn't text you back?"

"Um, no. No he hasn't." She gives you a tiny, forced smile and it breaks your heart. "He's been ignoring me, actually. I saw him this morning on the way to the office, and I thought it was my window to talk to him."

"But? Did you guys make contact?"

"Yeah, but he literally popped out his phone and made a beeline for the entrance." She scoffs. "Yoori's also been majorly giving me the eye."

"Well."

⇢FLASHBACK

noeul: hey, can we talk?

hwa: sorry, not a good time. swamped today.

noeul: okay, so can't we talk after work?

hwa: can't.

noeul: seonghwa, really?

"Sorry." Seonghwa says as he slips into Yoori's office, her face unamused when he finds him tucking his phone into his pocket. "I just got caught up with something."

"Noeul, you mean?" She looks at his pocket and he lets out a heavy sigh.

"No. I was editing an article I need to get out before the end of the week."

"Right." Yoori looks at him over her computer. Seonghwa can tell she's still not happy. And although he doesn't blame her, he is getting tired of the attitude. Of her temper and being short with him. Of keeping within the same routine. He tried to make it up to her. Tried to make this different.

But in the end, it didn't feel so different and he doesn't want to continue if it'll keep heading down this route.

He does think about the fun he had with Noeul. He thinks about having more fun with her. He thinks about how maybe, Noeul would be different. A different kind of fun for him.

"I didn't come here to fight." Seonghwa sighs. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out to dinner tonight."

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"I don't really wanna be out tonight, especially after the day I've already had."

"I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with me taking you out to dinner? I'll pick you up and drop you off. Or, you can stay at mine if you want."

"Seriously Hwa. Not tonight. Can we raincheck?" He sighs again and nods defeatedly.

"Yeah sure."

"Is there anything else?" She asks him and he just shakes his head. Feeling like he wasted his time to see her. He was excited to see her and ask her out tonight.

But, that went down the drain.

And now, as he's heading back to his office, he's staring at the thread between him and Noeul. Wondering if he should text her and finally talk to her. He's starting to think that Noeul wasn't just that shiny new toy to him and that his heart hasn't truly belonged to Yoori all this time.

Maybe, he needs to break free if all they do is go in circles.

Circles he feels obligated to follow because Yoori is all he's known these past months.

⇢END

"I'm sorry." You brush her hair away from her face.

"Maybe I am just stupid."

"You're not. He's just.. not the right guy, and that's totally fine." You look at her, slightly frowning. "You'll find someone who is worthy of your love and will shower you with the love you deserve."

"I know, but why can't I let go of it? We literally made out at your birthday and that was it."

"Well, you had fun with him. You were with him for the majority of the night. He's attractive too, I can't lie." You shrug. "But, he also needs to really get his shit together, especially with the whole Yoori thing. You don't wanna be another part of that equation, and you don't deserve to." She sighs.

"I just gotta let it go. You're right. It makes no sense for me to hold onto this. He's with Yoori and there's no changing that."

"Quite frankly, I don't even know if Yoori has him." She looks at you, forehead crinkled. "Okay, sorry. Point is, he needs to get himself together and you deserve someone who is sure of you. They'll come along, no doubt."

"I hope so."

"My sweet Noeul." You throw your arm around her. "Come over sometime this week or weekend? We can have a girl's night. I'll tell Sian, too."

"I could use another shopping date. I need a new, cute but functional, everyday bag."

"Are we thinking luxury bag?"

"Maybe."

"Treat yourself! Let's do it." Noeul smiles. "There she is."

"Love you."

"Love you, too." Your phone dings, signaling a text from Yunho and another coworker about a project-related. order "Let me get back to work. I've gotta check on this order I placed for the team. They needed specific electrodes for this study and they said they'd have it by a specific time this week. Gotta make sure it's on track."

"Goodluck."

"Thank you. Text me if you need anything? Or come bother me if you have time." She nods.

With that, you text your coworker back as you head to the procurement facility to check on the status of their order. It's an elevator ride down to the basement, and luckily, there isn't a huge line or a lot of people crowding the area to pick up orders. You find your contact to get an update, relieved it should be delivered tomorrow and can be picked up before lunch time. You relay the info to your coworker as you head back upstairs to your desk, the emails and task items slowly building post-break.

yunho: can't wait to see you later pretty girl

you: excited 🥰 what's lunch?

yunho: surprise!

you: boooooo

yunho: don't give me that, cutie. it'll be worth it!

yunho: gtg, gotta look into one of the systems slowing down

yunho: 😘

You set the phone down to get back to work, only to come back to it with another text from Yunho.

yunho: damn kiss me back at least??????

you: can you go?! 😂

you: 😘

You giggle to yourself, finishing up the other tasks that have made its way to you before lunch time comes around the corner. You get the usual text from Yunho letting you know he was heading to your meeting spot, so you grab your water bottle and head out. It's a bit chilly outside, causing you to wrap your jacket around you tightly— easily finding Yunho's tall figure ahead.

"Hi." You giggle when Yunho pulls you in for a tight hug and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Missed you, pretty girl." He raises a cute bag up. "Made some kimbap with Seora last night."

"I missed you, too." Your eyes glow at the bag. "That's so sweet. Can't wait to eat 'em for lunch, I'm sure it's delicious." You smile, tiptoeing to give him a curt peck on the lips. You feel Yunho smile against the kiss, subtly biting his lip when you pull back.

"Can we get to the car? Now?"

"Yunho." You laugh, squealing when Yunho laces his hand with yours—rushing over to his car in the staff garage and dragging you along. He has long strides, so you're having to keep up 10x more than normal. "Yunho! You're a giant, I can't keep up!" He laughs when he decides to carry you and gets you into his car— immediately sliding into the driver's seat and reversing out of the spot. "Why are you rushing?!"

"Because we're on a time crunch and I just need my time with you. What do you mean why?" You snort.

"Uh huh."

"I also just want you on my lap, is that so much to ask?" You let out a cute yell, making Yunho laugh even louder. He makes his way to the usual trail and lake, parking underneath the shade since the sun is out despite the chill. He pops open the large container, showing you the different kinds of kimbap they made. He hands you some chopsticks, allowing you to dig in first and give an honest review.

"Yum! This is so good, Yu."

"Yeah? You aren't lying?" He looks at you, maintaining eye contact until you break first.

"Swear." You chuckle.

"Your mom and dad said it was good, too. I'll give credit to Seora for the idea and for planning out what kimbap we'd make."

"The girl's got taste!" You pop in another one, looking out at the lake ahead. There's a few people walking the trail, elderly couples holding onto each other as they take their time with their stroll or runners getting a workout in before it gets too late in the afternoon. Ducks are taking a dip in the lake, squirrels running up the trees.

It's a nice reminder of life's little blessings.

"Hey." You turn in the passenger's seat, tucking your leg underneath the other to sit comfortably.

"Yeah, baby?"

"How was it? Did you take Seora to the cemetery?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "It was good. She was really happy."

"Did she get to decorate?"

"Lots."

⇢FLASHBACK

"What's that?" Yunho asks as he drives over to the cemetery, briefly glancing at Seora's lap when he gets a chance.

"You know how I got into crochet kits lately?"

"Yes, I'm reminded by the monthly subscription that goes through on my card." Seora laughs. "You're making good use of it."

"Yeah. I made one from the Hello Kitty line I got in. I made the Little Twinstars." Seora raises the two. "They're holding hands. I know they're siblings but I wanted it to be like.. me and mom."

"That's cute." Yunho smiles a bit.

"I also made this sushi and named it Oishi. It has a little slice of tamago on the top." Yunho laughs.

"You're just like your mom. Inspiring and creative." Seora smiles.

"Then, I made a drawing of our picture."

"It's beautiful."

"And a threaded bracelet."

"Wow, you really got to work." Seora shows her wrist and holds it near her father's by the wheel.

"She can match us now."

"That's right." Yunho pulls into the cemetery and drives toward the columbarium. He parks near the front doors, letting out a sigh when he shuts off the car. "Ready to go, ace?"

"I am." She nods with a soft smile. Yunho quickly hops out to help Seora out of the passenger seat, shutting her door for her when she climbs out with all her things. Yunho walks alongside of her as they enter the quiet, still building. Seora holds onto her father's arm as they walk down the hall, Yunho leading her through the familiar path towards Eunha.

"Here." He brings her in front of her niche, looking down to see her reaction. She slowly steps forward, her hand touching the glass.

"Mom." She says quietly.

"Go ahead." Yunho hands her the key to unlock the little glass door. She takes it, slowly sliding the key into the lock before twisting it open.

"Brought you some stuff that I made." She says quietly. Yunho watches with a smile on his face as Seora continues to explain to her mom what each item is and why she brought it. Once the decorations are settled to her liking inside, she lets out a sigh and drops her head. He hears her sniffling, her hand coming up to wipe her tears away.

"Ace?" He comes from behind, hands on her shoulders.

"I just miss her." Is all she says before she turns to dig her head into her father's chest.

"Oh, ace." Yunho holds her close, gently rubbing her back as she continues to quietly cry— tears a sign of all the pain and sadness she harbored over the years. "I'm so sorry, babygirl." He whispers against the top of her head before placing a small kiss to the surface.

The days and nights of longing for a mother's love, a mother's touch.

Yearning and needing.

All coming to surface.

"Can we sit here for a bit and talk about mom?"

"Of course."

"I remember some things."

"You do?" Seora nods. She remembers a few core memories from when she was small; they're all bits and pieces, fragments of the past when she wished she had all the puzzle pieces together to see the bigger picture. But, she remembers. She remembers pieces of her mom and that's what matters to her, that's what she'll hold onto tightly.

She remembers when she finally stopped whining and crying during swim class— finding the courage to join the other toddlers in the water to learn how to float and get used to the feeling. She remembers her mom encouraging her with her sweet tone, telling her she believed in her. She remembers the kiss to her forehead, feeling it against her skin like it was just yesterday.

And Yunho listens.

He chimes in with a few other stories from when she was a baby, the two of them giggling and in good spirits while sitting around Eunha. The hour goes by so quickly, it feels like 5 minutes to the two.

⇢END

"That's so sweet."

"Yeah, we spent about a good hour there. Gonna make it our weekend thing besides our little dates and her games."

"Cute." You smile. "You should." The both of you are sipping water, popping in some gum post-meal. "I'm glad you two had that time together and will keep it a part of your schedule."

"Yeah." Yunho leans his head back against the headrest, eyeing you up and down as much as he possibly can from his seat. "Come here, baby." He says lowly, subtly licking his lips.

"Hm?" You hum, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"C'mere." He gives you a look, adjusting his seat back to make room for you.

"Babe, people might see us!" You say, even though you're already preparing to take your seat on your man's lap.

"And I do not give a fuck." He laughs. "They can have a free show." He watches as you climb over, straddling his lap. "Besides, you're already here. Did you really have strong opinions about it in the first place?" He looks up at you as you trace his jaw with your thumb. He takes your hand in his, kissing your fingers, your knuckles.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Mm, tease, aren't you?" He smirks, lips edging towards yours. He licks his lips, hands gripping at your hips to keep you close. "Hm, pretty girl?" He whispers just as his lips graze yours, followed by a light, feathery kiss. You finally dip forward to lock him into a kiss.

It's soft at first. Sweet.

Yunho's lips against yours feel perfect. Like it was molded to fit yours, to console you, to keep you safe;

Like it was made to love you.

Your hands fall to his cheeks, thumb pads grazing the surface, his jaw. The kiss deepens quick, tongues moving together in a slow dance. Yunho grip on your hips tightens, egging you to move on him.

And you do just that.

Slowly, eagerly. With intent, meaning.

"Yunho." You breathe out, trapping him into another kiss just as he bites onto your bottom lip and tugs it back.

"Yeah, baby?" He whispers, hand coming up behind your neck; fingers threading through your hair to keep you close.

"Wish we could be home right now."

"Say the word and I'll take you home." You giggle against his lips, pecking him once more.

"You've gotta pick up Seora later."

"I can stop by yours before I do." He leans forward to continue kissing you like there's no tomorrow. "I plan to tell Seora tonight, by the way." You pause, hands still cupping his cheeks.

"A-are you sure, love?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He rubs at the sides of your thighs, but you sit back— titling your head as you look at him.

"Maybe we should wait a bit more? You just took her to the cemetery to see her mom, Yu. She might need time."

"She'll be okay. I just.. I wanna tell her sooner than later. Or else, I'll feel like it's never the right time and that's unfair to you."

"Well, she's the one who matters the most."

"I promise she'll be fine. You trust me, right?"

"I do. It's not that. I'm just not sure how she'll react." It's true, you don't know how she'll react and that's what you're afraid of. You're afraid she'll take it the wrong way, you're afraid she'll never look past it. You're afraid she'll never accept this.

And if she doesn't, then it'll be something you'll have to accept.

Seora will always come first and you will never do anything to challenge that. To break her beautiful relationship with her father, to ruin her comfort zone.

"Either way, it's going to be an adjustment, but we'll make this work."

"Together?"

"Always." His eyes fall to your lips before he dips in for another sweet, long kiss. You giggle after awhile, breaking the kiss to look at your phone.

"Fuck. Maybe we should head back." You flash your phone at him, seeing there's only about 10 minutes left of break." Yunho sighs, groaning a bit.

"Fine."

"Grump." You joke as you climb back into the passenger's seat.

"No seriously, can I pop in before I pick up Seora?"

"Yunho." You pinch his arm. "And be late to pick her up? Absolutely not."

"Ah— okay." He pouts as he starts up the car and begins to head back toward the hospital. "Are you working from home any day this week?"

"Maybe." You laugh, and he wiggles his eyebrows. You swear Yunho is such a dork, but you fall for him more and more every day.

"There's my invite."

"You're too much." He slides his free hand into yours, kissing the surface.

"Just love my time with you, that's all." He smiles softly. Yunho looks at you, and he just feels love. He feels lucky to have found someone again who understands him, takes him for him and is willing to love him and all that he comes with.

He doesn't want to lose that.

Even though he knows it'll be tough, he doesn't want to lose that.

The ride back to work is quiet besides the tiny kisses shared before hopping out to get back to your offices. You've got a few hours left in your workday, and for Yunho, it's a little longer in comparison with all the tickets he's helping the team with. He's also got a check-in meeting to finalize the plans for the new unit before he can wrap up and call it a day.

All in a day's work.

"Hey." He hears a familiar voice as he straps in his backpack and throws his hat on before heading out for the afternoon.

"What's up?" Yunho looks at Seonghwa with a small smile. "You look beat."

"I am."

"Didn't you see Yoori earlier?" Seonghwa walk alongside of his bestfriend as they head out to the staff garage.

"Yeah. That didn't go all that well."

"Well, how do you expect her to act?" Seonghwa shrugs.

"I don't know, but quite frankly, I'm getting kinda tired of it."

"What?" Yunho snorts. "You wanted the casual, lowkey thing."

"Yeah, but things were kinda changing. Now, we barely even do anything. We don't go out, we don't have fun. Nothing. It's usually a quick outing to eat or else we stay at each other's places."

"Isn't that the point of lowkey and casual?" Yunho looks at him. "What's making you second guess? Noeul and the whole club thing?"

"Maybe?" Yunho shakes his head.

"Figure it out first. Don't get Noeul wrapped up in this even more if you aren't sure."

"I feel bad, I brushed her off earlier."

"Exactly, Hwa. Don't do that. Not only cause she's Y/N's friend, but you don't string someone along because you want a fun backup." Hwa sighs.

"It's not even just that."

"Then?" Yunho unlocks his car and tosses his backpack in the trunk.

"I don't know."

"Figure it out, my guy. Wouldn't hurt to get expedited shipping on that either. Someone's gonna end up real hurt if you aren't honest about what you want and need right now." Hwa sighs. "Can never be simple with you, can it?"

"Anyway. Did you see Y/N earlier?"

"Mhm. Of course." Yunho chuckles.

"Are you still planning to tell ace tonight about you two?"

"I think so, yeah. I kinda just wanna rip the bandaid off."

"Goodluck. I'm sure she'll be fine eventually. But, let me know how it goes."

"Deflecting." Yunho teases making Seonghwa roll his eyes as he starts to back away towards the direction of his car.

"Fuck off, alright? Tell ace I said hi." Yunho chuckles before sliding into his car and heading out to pick up his daughter and his tiny-but-not-so-tiny bestfriend. He parks in the school's lot, walking over to the gym to catch the tail end of practice. He watches as they run their last play of the evening, running a few minutes over time. Coach calls it, yelling out the play until the girls run it all the way through in perfection. Yunho nods, loving these moments when he can see his baby girl in action. He greets a few of other parents before watching Seora drag herself to the locker room to grab her things and head home. "Hey ace." Yunho says when he sees Seora dragging her huge duffle bag along. He laughs and takes it from her, slinging the strap over his shoulder. "How was practice?"

"God, awful. We ran so many of the plays just to get a feel for it for the next playoff game."

"That's good."

"Not good. My legs are beat." She looks up at him as she sips her water bottle. "What's dinner?"

"Was thinking we could just do kimchi-jjigae."

"Mm. Yum!" She says, throwing her backpack in the trunk once it's popped open. "Sounds good right about now."

"Yeah, doesn't it?" When the trek home begins, Seora starts to tell her father about her day and how much of a good day she had. None of her friends were out sick, and they got to watch movies in a couple of her classes. The more he hears her talk about her day, the more he feels the guilt building in the pit of his stomach.

Because he would be the reason that would change.

The reason why her day would ended on such a dramatic, life-changing note.

But, he keeps himself strong— keeps his decision firm because he knows he just has to do it. He looks at her and cherishes her smile and her laugh, hoping he could still see those same bright features once he lays it all out for her. For the future.

He hopes he doesn't lose his baby girl.

When they get home, they greet your parents through the kitchen window and more guilt settled into the pit of his stomach realizing that would be the next step.

You, handling your parents. Hoping they'd support you in this relationship.

Yunho kicks off his shoes and Seora races to the bathroom to shower and get comfy. He decides to get the kimchi-jjigae and rice going before washing up for the night and getting into some pajamas. By the time everything's finished, Seora is already sitting at the table watching her show while Yunho brings over the hot pot of kimchi-jjigae to the center of the table. He grabs their bowls to put some rice inside before setting them down next to the pot They say their grace before digging in, Yunho indulging in the show she has on. She explains the current plot, keeping her father up to date on all the drama that's happened so far. They talk about other shows and upcoming movies in between, Seora basically planning one of their dates as another movie date.

This time, at a different theater. One that has different themes in each theater room, and it switches out almost every month.

Yunho just agrees, wanting to take Seora anywhere just so she could be happy and they can spend time together outside of the house. When dinner is done, Yunho and Seora clean up the dishes and close out the kitchen, but Seora finds it a good time to dig for some dessert to balance out the savory meal they've had.

Yunho also finds it a good time to just cut to the chase.

Let her know what's been going on.

"Ace."

"Hm?" She digs through the fridge.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"If it's about me being head deep into the fridge to find dessert, I'm sorry dad, but I have no regrets." Yunho chuckles.

"No. Listen to me." She shuts the fridge emptyhanded.

"We need more desserts."

"Noted." Seora senses the shift in his tone. The dip.

"What is it, daddy?"

"I've... been seeing someone for awhile now."

"Like friends? I see my friends all the time?"

"No, dating. As in a relationship."

"Dating? Relationship?"

"Yeah." Yunho swallows the lump in his throat when he sees the smile on her face die and turn into a frown. Here it goes.

"Dating?" She repeats in utter disbelief. "So, what was the weekend all about?"

"What does the weekend have to do with what I'm telling you, baby girl?"

"Mom? Visiting her?" She scoffs. "Do you even remember Mom like that, or are you just replacing her with someone because it doesn't even matter anymore? Replacing her with someone who knows where the freaking juice is in the fridge—"

"Seora." Yunho furrows his brows. "Hey, stop that. You do not say that to me. I never said she was replacing your mom. I could never. I just wanted to tell you when the time felt right—" He falters. She stares back at him— expression unreadable at first, then her eyes flicker. "It isn't about forgetting her at all."

"It's about you. It's all about you!" Her tone raises. "You moved on. You moved on and didn't think I'd notice. You're clearly forgetting about her and moving on. You literally don't even care—"

"Seora, that's enough!" She scoffs again, rolling her eyes as she turns to head towards her room. "I thought you'd respond better than that."

"What do you expect me to say, dad? Congrats?!" She pauses and shakes her head. "Whatever. Have fun playing house with your new girlfriend."

"Seora!" She slams the door to her room, leaving Yunho dumbfounded in the living room. His jaw ticks, and he's not sure how to navigate this. Seora has never been this mad at Yunho and vice versa; sure, he's had to calmly discipline her before and correct mistakes, but they've never had this big of an argument.

Whenever they'd disagree, he knew it could easily be salvaged. They'd talk about it, Yunho would fix things patiently. They'd get back to the way they were. Seora would take her lessons to heart and wouldn't make the same mistake again because she'd never wanna disappoint her father, the most important man in her life. Her bestfriend.

Now, it doesn't feel so easily salvageable. Yunho has never seen her so mad. He's never felt this much anger and disappointment. He's not sure how long it'll take to blow over, or how they'd even move past this.

All he can do is sigh, running his hand through his hair before he mutters a short 'fuck' to himself. He cleans the living room and shuts off the lights for the night, sadly heading to bed when Seora doesn't come out for the rest of the evening. No goodnight's, no 'I love you's,' no hugs. And Yunho knows he shouldn't let them go to bed like this, but he knows she needs time. He needs time. He doesn't wanna make this worse, and he doesn't wanna do anything to hurt her more.

But, he expected this. He should've known. So, why doesn't he feel prepared at all?

Where does he go from here?

"Hey babe." Yunho feels himself relax a bit as he settles into his sheets, letting out a small sigh. "You okay?"

"I don't know. Definitely did not go as planned." You feel your heart beating against your chest, anxiety slightly rising. Of course it didn't go well. You also expected it, so why don't you feel prepared at all?

What a silly question to ask, Y/N.

"I'm sorry." You respond softly. "Maybe she really just needed time, Yu."

"I guess. Maybe it is my fault." He says defeatedly. "I don't think any other time would've been the right time, and I think she would've reacted this way regardless." He sighs. "But, part of me really hoped she'd be open to it. I don't know what to say to her, I don't know what to do. We've never been in an argument like this."

"Don't push her any further on this, okay? Let it settle and talk about it with her when things feel better."

"Yeah."

"We'll get through this, remember?"

"Mmyeah." He tries to be positive, but it's already killing him how upset Seora is. The silence on the phone is telling, and the silence is enough to scare you. It only makes you fear telling your mom even more, knowing she won't be supportive of it either.

You've talked about the possibilities, so why don't the both of you feel prepared?

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fandoms-in-law · 2 days ago

Text

Lips

Summary: Steve asks Robin her opinion after getting distracted by his reflection at work. It leads to her being the supportive best friend over his crush.

Author's note: My brain is tired, the prompt I had for today was a bunch of words from loveheart sweets. It happened is all I can say.

“Do I have hot lips?” Steve asked one quiet afternoon at Family Video. He’d been looking at his reflection in the window instead of hoping to see customers coming in.

Robin gave him an odd look, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Are my lips hot?” He repeated, “Attractive? Sexy? The alluring pout boys go crazy for?”

She shook her head, “Lips aren’t hot. Smiles are cute and actions made with a mouth can be hot but I refuse to believe hot lips exist unless burnt or covered with like chilli or hot sauce to make them feel like they’re burning.”

“So my lips aren’t hot?” He pouted at her.

Robin nodded resolutely, “Nobody’s are.”

Steve crossed his arms, huffing a little, “I think Eddie’s are when he’s quiet.”

She threw up her arms, moving to tidy the shelves. “I give in. Go and ask him!”

“You’re letting me leave work early?” He smirked at her, turning around.

“No! You’re on till until the end of the day.” Robin clicked towards it, laughing at his groan.

Robin had noticed the comment earlier on, but decided not to question it while they were in the shop. It wasn’t a good place to bring up the subject when too many people could overhear. Now they were at his home she had to ask, “So Eddie’s lips? You’ve noticed them before?”

“Haven’t you? They’re hot and gorgeous.” Steve agreed. “Why is that interesting?”

“Pretty sure we could ask everyone we know and they wouldn’t agree.” She stated, “Also because it’s nice to hear you talking about one person you like rather than vague attributes. It’s got to be my turn to tease you over a crush now.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Really? Can’t I just be happy to have something that stands half a chance of happening for a while?”

“You entirely can be happy, but best friend rights say I can tease.” She agreed cheerfully, “Cause that’s what real love is.”

Playfully frustrated, he nodded, “Fine.”

“Maybe I should try playing DnD with them,” Steve muttered, waving the party out of Family Video. “Casually spend more time with Eddie that way.”

Robin scoffed, “Casually play DnD? You? Dream on Steve, none of them would be casual about that, and only Henderson knows you’ve even tried playing. It’d be major drama and all of Eddie’s friends would be suspicious of it.”

“What do you suggest then? I can’t hope for another town disaster to casually fold clothes next to my crush like you and Vickie.” He complained.

She thought for a moment, before gesturing, “Use that empty house of yours to advantage. Let them play there. You heard the brats say they’re having trouble arranging it since the school isn’t letting any clubs run while rebuilding work is happening.”

“Now who’s dreaming? If my parents get wind of that then I’ll be looking for somewhere new to live, not just a place to play a game.”

“And you’ll live with me. Besides, that’d require them actually coming back to the town they barely set foot in even before the ‘natural disasters’.” Robin pointed out easily.

The Corroded Coffin boys looked at Robin in confusion when she opened the door, getting shoved aside a moment later by Dustin who rolled his eyes when seeing the cause for the delay. “Come on, I want to get set up.” He called vanishing into Steve’s house.

“What’re you doing here, Buckley?” Gareth asked cautiously, taking slow steps as he entered the house, looking around as if expecting someone to attack him.

“It’s my besties home so I’m gonna be here whoever he’s got hanging out.” She simply explained. “Steve’ll be your waitress today. You know the rest of your roles. Anyone need a tour?”

The men shared a glance before following her through a little less cautiously.

They had a sleepover after the DnD had ended and everyone had gone home, collapsing together onto Steve’s bed, Robin curling into his side.

“Are you still teasing me about the new crush or can I ask you to be kind now?” Steve spoke quietly into the dark.

Robin had insisted they could talk better without lights on and it had actually become truth from the amount of times they’d done it. She didn’t try to turn and look at him, just made a quiet affirming noise.

He took a deep breath, “Do you think I actually could ask Eddie out? That he might agree if I do it right?”

“I think that if you just be you, he’ll be leaping at any chance to date you offer.” She answered slowly. “He’s always been pretty open about being queer and definitely flirts with you. Don’t change though. That’s one of the things people back off from when you do it. Just be you.”

“I can try that. What’d I do without you?” He sounded thoughtful, and horribly sentimental.

Robin nudged him gently, “Same answer, you’d just be you, lonely, stressed, babysitter you.”

“Hey!” He tickled her side in a short burst in retaliation for the tease. “I’m glad I’m not lonely when I’m just me with you.”

“Me too.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #implied pre-Steddie

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sometimesoliloquy · 2 days ago

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Mirroring, reconciling June with "Offred" and what that means…

I sat down to try and finally write the last couple recaps, but that requires snark and the snark has taken a backseat to all the specific Nick and osblaine feels these last few eps have drummed up. This is inspired by reading many of y'all's lovely thoughtful words lately and @tryandbehappy's latest beautiful video and post about mirroring.

In the season 4 finale when Fred talks to June about "Offred", she says "I miss her too sometimes. I miss her strength." Then later in the episode, she reclaims Offred, in order to kill him in the most fitting way she was taught in Gilead (after thoroughly kissing Nick, finally claiming their secret love out loud for Fred to see with his own stupid, doomed eyes). But then she returns back "home" to Canada. And Offred is not welcome in polite Canadian society. Offred is feared and rebuked by her friends and family. "Offred" could very well follow in Emily's footsteps, leaving her family once again to go back in. For more revenge, more bloodlust. Because she feels Gilead pulling. And this is what scares June the most.

So she pushes Offred back down again, becomes “June”. June goes to therapy (hands up who thinks she didn't want Luke there but he said "I need to know what you've been through" and she caved?). “Feels bad” for getting up in the face of a Gilead sympathizer fawning over her baby daughter while calling her a worthless slut “lucky” to have been made a ritualized sex slave. Tries to tamp down her pain and anger. Tries to "rebuild" (revert) with her husband from "before". Finds, if not forgiveness, then at least some sort of tentative peace with Serena. And then at the end of season 5, attempts to flee with the family she has left, hoping to find some sort of refuge away from Gilead and its terrifyingly increasing reach. But even after the miracle of finding her mom again, her family's not whole (either of them), and of course she feels it pulling her back in again. And this time Luke and Moira have heard the siren call too, and just when she's ready to pack it all in for a nugget of peace, they draw her back into the fight.

But this is still "June", operating within a Mayday cell that seems to be made up entirely of Canadian or escaped American "civilians" who've never spent a day inside Gilead, besides her and Moira. Because of this she views herself as the one with the experience here, the know how. And she's right in a lot of ways about that. But it also blinds her to the fact that she is still not prepared either. She hasn't forgotten Gilead (how could she), but she's forgotten how it is to live there, trapped there, in the day to day. The constant anxious undercurrent of terror, weighing on you like a wool blanket in the suffocating heat of mid summer. The brutal nonsensical violence that can happen in an instant, when you're least expecting it, maybe when you've just thought you could take a breath. Forgotten how it is to be there and not have an escape hatch, a getaway car. She's operating largely on the laws of the democratic society she's been back in for many months now. She's playing by Mayday's rules--an outlaw organization by definition but still governed by modern civility. She even seems to forget the important rule she imparts to Luke in 6x04, when she tells him that plans never go the way you expect.

And so she's unprepared when Gilead immediately shows its ugliest face. When the innocent, oppressed women she was trying to save from being the forgotten collateral damage of Mayday's original plan end up slaughtered in the most brutal manner anyway. And she's forgotten the number one rule of Gilead, the one she herself played by for so many years--you do what you can to survive and fight another day. Deep down she knows this, she knows Nick was operating on the same principal they both lived on--that he has and still is using to keep her safe, in and out of Gilead. And deep down she knows that facing what he did to survive, to save them--and forgiving it--means having to truly face and forgive the part of her that is "Offred", who herself got so many people killed trying to survive and fight back--to make Gilead hurt like she hurt.

And at this point, having traveled so far from "Offred", she's not ready to do that. She's terrified to come face to face again with that guilt and pain and rage. She's terrified of being the "Offred" who will be unwelcome to Luke and Moira and Mayday and larger society in general. Who would be seen as a monster. Who would not be considered a suitable wife, friend, and most especially mother. So she projects it all back onto Nick, who god bless him, points out what she knows to be true--who he has been and who SHE has been--but doesn't throw back in her face what he could; that this was all set in motion by her actions and the situation she put him in, because he doesn't want her to feel that guilt, even if it means she can't see past her own culpability and hypocrisy though her hurt, and ultimately rejects him. He’s still protecting her, even as it hurts himself.

The shame she feels back at the Mayday camp over trusting Nick and "not seeing what he was" is a reflection of her deeper guilt and fear of rejection--she's not just scared that they will not accept her, but deeper down that she cannot accept herself--that version of her who is responsible for so much pain and death. So she continues burying herself in disappointment and heartbreak over Nick, which hurts like hell but is somewhat easier to swallow. She tucks tail and resigns herself to go back to Alaska, to be mom to Holly, to be the "June" who doesn't--can't--hurt anyone else with her rash, impulsive plans and explosive, world-shaking rage. To try and bury, perhaps forever, "Offred"--who did whatever she could to survive, even if it meant putting others in harm’s way. Who fell in love with Nick and so desperately wanted--needed--him to survive at all costs as well. Who forever has "your fault, your fault" imprinted on her brain, but realized she had to keep going anyway, because to cease to fight is to die.

And then Lawrence appears, goading and prodding at the tender parts as he is so good at, until inspiration strikes and another plan is formed. But once again, I don't think she's quite prepared for Gilead. Truly prepared for battle against an enemy with whom she's intimately acquainted, but somewhat estranged from the stark reality of.

I think that in following through with this current plan, she's going to once again be faced with the ugly truth of the cost of survival, of war. People are bound to end up getting killed, and whether it's people close to her or more innocent people unknowingly drawn into the fray, it's going to make her have to confront "Offred" once more (as we see her literally outfitted as Offred again, back in that red dress). Both her past, littered with casualties, and her future--where she will have to decide--is it worth it? Is she ready and willing to, as Nick says, "throw more bodies on the fire" for this war? Is she able to make those impossible decisions again knowing lives are at stake? Of those she loves and many more who didn't sign up for this. Not just knowing and remembering, but seeing again firsthand--living in the reality of--what Gilead is capable of?

Because I think that if she is to really continue this fight, she will need to reunite with "Offred" once again. Not in favor of June, but rather to integrate that part of her that is Offred (the one with the burning rage, the strength to make the tough calls, the one who knows the cost) with the person has been becoming--who can hold onto the rage and let it fuel but not blind her, who wants to fight not just to make Gilead hurt like she hurts, not even just to get her own daughter back, but to free everyone trapped there from the pain and injustice she suffered. To do better, not just for her daughters, but for all the children in the next generation, and the one to come. Only then can she really become the June she is meant to be--a leader in a revolution that will be brutal and bloody, but worth the fight. And only once she's accepted that part of her again, reconciled it with her full self, can she fully understand and forgive Nick, too.

And I believe that Nick has his own reckoning to come to as well, having lived on a razor's edge of his own dichotomy for so long. But once he is able to acknowledge the version of himself he truly wants to be, and have the courage to act on it... well, these new, wholly realized versions of themselves are clearly just meant to be together. Fight together. Nothing could stop them then.❤️

#osblaine #june osborne #nick blaine #nick x june #tht s6 #tht s6 spoilers

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sh4nksslvt · 13 hours ago

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Please do a Kuzan one shot like, him and the reader are in a relationship but suddenly he fell out of love 🥹 and they broke up. After 4 years, they met again and he told her that he still loves her , but she already moved on 😭 (just a full angst 😉) please do this!!!

oohh! interesting! not much but hope u like this!

Drift of Ice and Time

Four years after Kuzan abruptly ends their relationship, a chance reunion forces him to confront lingering feelings, only to find that you forged a new path without him.

Aokiji (kuzan) x fem! reader Tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, unrequited love, breakup, reunion, character growth, oc a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe and akward word count: 1.9k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The wind carried the salt of the sea, sharp and biting, as it whipped through the quiet harbor town. You adjusted the scarf around your neck, your boots clicking against the cobblestone path. The small island was a far cry from the bustling Marine bases or pirate-ridden waters you once frequented. It was peaceful, unassuming—a place to rebuild. Four years ago, you never imagined you’d find solace in such simplicity, but time had a way of reshaping even the most broken pieces.

You were on your way to the market, a basket swinging lightly in your hand, when a shadow fell across your path. It wasn’t just the physical presence—tall, broad, unmistakable—but the weight of memory that made your breath catch. You stopped, heart stuttering, as your eyes lifted to meet the man standing before you.

Kuzan. Aokiji. The former Marine Admiral who had once held your heart in his frostbitten hands.

He looked much the same, yet different. His dark sunglasses perched on his nose, his coat slung lazily over one shoulder, but there were new lines etched into his face, a weariness that hadn’t been there before. His hair was longer, curling slightly at the nape, and his expression—guarded, almost hesitant—made your stomach twist.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, like the rumble of distant thunder. “It’s been a while.”

It was gentle. Familiar. Soft in the way only someone who used to know your heart could manage.

You blinked, clutching the basket tighter. “Kuzan,” you managed, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. “What are you doing here?”

Not Kuzan-kun, not love, not you’re home. Just Kuzan. Cold, distant, proper.

He scratched the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that once made you smile. Now, it only sharpened the ache. “Just passing through. Didn’t expect to see you.”

The words hung between you, heavy with unspoken history. Four years ago, he’d walked away, his parting words as cold as his Devil Fruit powers: “I don’t feel it anymore. I’m sorry.” No explanation, no fight—just a clean cut that left you bleeding.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Small world, I guess. Take care, Kuzan.” You moved to step past him, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist. His touch was cool, not icy, but it burned all the same.

“Wait,” he said, softer now. “Can we talk?”

Four Years Ago

The memory flooded back unbidden, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. You and Kuzan had been together for nearly two years, a relationship forged in stolen moments between his duties as an Admiral and your own work as a Marine intelligence officer. He was your anchor, his calm demeanor balancing your fire. You’d laughed together, fought together, dreamed together—until the day he stopped dreaming.

It was a quiet evening in your shared apartment at Marineford. You were curled on the couch, a book in your lap, while Kuzan sat at the window, staring at the horizon. The silence wasn’t unusual; he often drifted into his thoughts. But that night, the air felt different—thicker, colder.

“Love?” you’d called, setting the book aside. “You okay?”

He didn’t turn, his broad back a wall between you. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, voice devoid of its usual warmth. “About us.”

Your heart sank, but you stood, crossing the room to stand beside him. “What’s wrong?”

He finally looked at you, and the emptiness in his eyes was a punch to the gut. “I don’t love you anymore,” he said, blunt as a blade. “I don’t know when it happened, but… it’s gone.”

The world tilted. You searched his face for a lie, a crack in his resolve, but there was nothing. Just Kuzan, unshakable as ice. “You’re serious,” you whispered, voice breaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you hated how genuine he sounded. “You deserve better than someone who’s just… going through the motions.”

You wanted to scream, to demand answers, but pride held your tongue. Instead, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Then go.”

He did. He packed a small bag, left his key on the table, and walked out. The door clicked shut, and with it, a chapter of your life ended.

The months that followed were a blur of pain and reinvention. You resigned from the Marines, unable to stomach the memories embedded in every corridor. You traveled, took odd jobs, and eventually settled on this quiet island, where you opened a small bookstore. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours—a life you’d built from the ashes.

The Present

The harbor café was nearly empty, save for a few locals sipping coffee. You sat across from Kuzan, the table between you a fragile barrier. He’d insisted on talking, and though every instinct screamed to walk away, curiosity—or perhaps masochism—made you stay.

“You look good,” he said, breaking the silence. “Different, but good.”

You stirred your tea, avoiding his gaze. “Thanks. I’ve had time to figure things out.”

He leaned back, his long legs stretching under the table. “Heard you’ve got a bookstore now. That’s… fitting. You always loved stories.”

The casual familiarity stung. “Yeah,” you said, voice clipped. “It keeps me busy... Why are you here, Kuzan? Really.”

He sighed, removing his sunglasses. His eyes, dark and piercing, met yours, and for a moment, you saw the man you’d loved—the one who’d held you under starlit skies, who’d teased you with lazy grins. But that man was gone, wasn’t he?

“I’ve been wandering,” he said. “After I left the Marines, I didn’t know what I wanted. Still don’t, maybe. But seeing you today… it brought a lot back.”

You clenched your jaw, the old wound throbbing. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to show up after four years and act like we’re old friends.”

“I know,” he said quickly, raising a hand. “I messed up. I hurt you, and I’ve carried that. But I need to say this.” He leaned forward, voice low and urgent. “...I never stopped loving you. I thought I did, thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, but I was wrong.”

The words hit like a tidal wave, threatening to drown you. You stared at him, heart pounding, searching for the truth in his eyes. He looked sincere, raw in a way you’d rarely seen. But sincerity didn’t erase the past.

“You don’t get to decide that now,” you said, voice trembling. “You broke me, Kuzan. Do you know what it was like? To rebuild after you left? I did that. Alone.”

He flinched, and the sight gave you no satisfaction. “I know I don’t deserve forgiveness,” he said. “But I had to tell you. I’ve spent four years running from this, from you, and I can’t anymore.”

You stood, chair scraping against the floor. “I need air,” you muttered, storming out of the café. The sea breeze hit your face, grounding you, but Kuzan followed, his presence inescapable.

The beach stretched before the town, waves lapping at the shore. You walked along the water’s edge, Kuzan a few steps behind. The silence was heavy, broken only by the cry of gulls and the rhythm of the tide.

“Stop following me,” you said without turning.

“Not until you hear me out,” he replied, voice calm but firm.

You spun to face him, anger flaring. “What do you want, Kuzan? To fix your guilt? To pretend we can go back? I’ve moved on. I have a life, a good one. I don’t need you.”

His expression cracked, pain flickering across his features. “I don’t expect you to take me back. I just… needed you to know. I was a coward back then. I didn’t understand what I was throwing away.”

You laughed, bitter and sharp. “You figured that out now? After four years? What am I supposed to do with that?”

He stepped closer, and you hated how your heart still raced at his proximity. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just know that every time I close my eyes, it’s you I see. Your laugh, your fire. I thought I could let you go, but I can’t.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “That’s not fair,” you whispered. “You don’t get to say that after everything.”

“I know,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

You turned away, staring at the horizon. The sea stretched endlessly, much like the distance you’d put between yourself and the past. But standing here, with Kuzan so close, that distance felt fragile.

“I’m with someone,” you said finally, the words a shield. “He’s kind, steady. He doesn’t run when things get hard.”

Kuzan’s silence was deafening. When you glanced back, his face was unreadable, but his hands were clenched at his sides. “Does he make you happy?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” you said, and it was true. Your partner, a local carpenter named Elias, was everything Kuzan hadn’t been—present, reliable, safe. “He’s good for me.”

Kuzan nodded, a slow, pained motion. “That’s all I ever wanted for you,” he said. “Even if it’s not with me.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something in you. You wanted to hate him, to scream, but all you felt was grief—for what you’d lost, for what might have been. “Why now?” you asked, voice raw. “Why couldn’t you figure this out then?”

“I was lost,” he said simply. “I thought letting you go was freedom, but it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

You shook your head, stepping back. “I can’t do this, Kuzan. I can’t go back.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, and the defeat in his voice was almost worse than his confession. “I just needed you to know.”

The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. You stood at the edge of the harbor, Kuzan beside you, the silence more bearable now. You’d walked the length of the beach, talking in fragments—about the past, the pain, the years apart. It wasn’t closure, not quite, but it was something.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, hands in his pockets. “Got a ship to catch.”

You nodded, unsurprised. Kuzan was a wanderer now, untethered. “Where to?”

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Wherever the wind takes me.”

You looked at him, really looked, and saw the man you’d loved, the one who’d broken you, and the one who’d come back too late. “Take care of yourself, Kuzan,” you said, meaning it.

He met your gaze, and for a moment, you thought he might reach for you. But he didn’t. “You too,” he said softly. “And… thank you. For everything.”

You turned away first, walking back toward the town, toward the life you’d built. His footsteps didn’t follow, and when you glanced back, he was still standing by the water, a solitary figure against the fading light.

The bookstore was quiet that evening, the scent of paper and ink a comfort. Elias stopped by, his warm smile easing the ache in your chest. You didn’t tell him about Kuzan—not yet. There would be time for that, time to unravel the day’s emotions. For now, you let yourself lean into the present, into the man who chose you every day.

Kuzan’s confession lingered, a ghost you’d carry but no longer chase. The ice had thawed, but the tide had moved on, and so had you.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #idk man #idk what im doing #angst #hurt/no comfort #aokiji x reader #aokiji one piece #kuzan x reader #op kuzan #kuzan one piece #aokiji kuzan #kuzan #aokiji

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