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mysteria157 · 4 months ago

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Pairing: Sheriff!Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Summary: You have a system, and it's worked perfectly until now. But in this dusty Western town, Sheriff Nanami Kento is making things...complicated.

By day, you're the town's sweet schoolteacher, loved by all. By night? You're the very secret that drives Nanami to sleepless nights and relentless pursuits.

You're drawn to each other, so it makes keeping your worlds separate a dangerous game that you can't help but play.

Rating/CW: slow burn romance, mild intoxication, brief violence, cowboy activities?, fluff, suggestive content, eventual smut, angst, explicit sexual content (eventually). MDNI!

WC: ~12k (strap in, I guess lol)

Author notes: Hello! It's finally here! I had so much planned for this story that I had no choice but to break it into parts. I struggled a little because there was a lot more world-building than I expected, but I'm proud of the result. This will be a slow burn, so please don't expect any smut right off the jump, lol.

Thank you so much, @pmpmyread @rahuratna, not only for looking this over, but for your advice and support! And thank you all for your motivation as I put this together!!

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

Happy reading!

Header: myself (image from pinterest) | Divider: @anitalenia @saradika network tag: @pixelcafe-network

JJK Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Part Two

The saloon door creaks open, letting in a blast of scorching summer air that does little to freshen the stale interior. Nanami steps inside, the cool dimness a refreshing difference from the blazing afternoon sun previously on his back. It smells familiar—scents of whiskey, tobacco, and sweat wrapped around camaraderie like an old, worn blanket.

Tired eyes flicker up from cards and empty glasses, recognition dawning on weather-beaten faces. A chorus of solemn nods greets him, a silent salute to their town’s protector. Nanami returns each nod mechanically, his own gaze carefully schooled to hide the bone-deep weariness that threatens to consume him.

His leather boots, caked with the dust of another fruitless chase, thud heavily against the worn floorboards. Each step feels like a defeat, a reminder of always arriving too late or right before his goal slips through his hands, touching his fingertips like a tease.

“Whiskey,” he grumbles as he plops onto a stool, the wood creaking under his weight. “The bottle, preferably.”

The young bartender—who he knows means well—sends a knowing smirk that sets Nanami’s teeth on edge. How many times has he found himself here, drowning his frustrations in amber liquid? Far too many, he thinks, as a tall glass of whiskey appears before him like a mirage in the desert.

Nanami snatches the Stetson hat from his head, slapping it onto the bar with a force that sends a small cloud of dust into the air. His fingers, calloused from years of handling a gun and reins and rope, curl around the glass, lifting towards the bartender in question. The young man simply shrugs as he cleans a cup with a dirty white towel.

“You drank an entire bottle two days ago, Sheriff. Gotta save some whiskey for the rest of us.”

Nanami doesn’t offer a remark because he has been drinking a lot more lately. While he’s never been one to be too many sheets to the wind, lately, consuming until his vision is fuzzy seems to turn off his thoughts. He takes a generous sip, the whiskey burning a familiar path down his throat but doing little to ease the sting of failure. As he watches the strong alcohol slosh in its glass, he gets lost in its color. The flaxen hue morphs into the fluttering of long lashes and mocking eyes, of a form quick and nimble—always just out of reach.

“You’ll catch ‘em eventually, Sheriff,” the boy offers, more out of habit than conviction. He’s seen Nanami here too many times, that frustrated look etched on his face, chasing something far too fast for him.

Nanami huffs an admonishing chuckle. “Maybe,” he concedes, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. “Or maybe I’m chasing the wind.”

He takes another swig, the alcohol doing little to dispel the sour taste of defeat or replace the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of justice served. But it’s all he has right now. As the waning daylight stretches long and hazy into the sky, somewhere out there, a thief laughs at the law’s futile efforts—at his futile efforts.

He downs the rest of his whiskey, slamming the glass on the counter and ignoring the eyes of patrons who dart up to him from the mild disturbance.

“More,” he demands, sliding the glass across the counter to the bartender. As he watches the whiskey pour, he wonders, not for the first time, if he’s lost more than just a criminal in this endless game of cat and mouse. His integrity, his purpose, his peace of mind—all sacrificed on the altar of justice. And for what? A town that still suffers, and a thief who dances just beyond his grasp.

While the whiskey offers no answers, it at least dulls the ache of what he can’t achieve. But that comes at a price. As his mind fades from the present, it ruminates on the past. On how he grew increasingly disillusioned with his responsibility to protect. It broods on that fateful day when a bullet tore through his dear friend’s body, losing momentum enough to strike Nanami’s badge with a dull thud—a cruel reminder of how close he’d come to joining Haibara, and how utterly he’d failed to protect him.

For a time, he disappeared, carving a new life miles away on his family’s ranch. It was quiet there, peaceful and free of the failure he feels now on a daily basis. But eventually…it wasn’t enough. It was one too many desperate souls who stumbled upon his doorstep, knowing that he would be the only one to help, that he finally decided to come back.

Not that it’s made any difference.

Nanami’s reputation precedes him—the best sheriff this side of the state, a lone wolf who gets results. His name alone makes outlaws think twice before darkening his town’s doorstep. Or at least, it used to.

These past few months, a shadow has been making a mockery of him. A bandit, cloaked in night and silence, slips through his fingers like smoke. Jewels, coins, and the like—all vanish under the cover of darkness, present one morning and gone by the time the sun rises again.

The most maddening part? It’s a woman. He’s caught glimpses—the curve of a hip, a mask of charcoal smudged behind alluring eyes, a whisper of a deep laughter on the wind. She’s a riddle wrapped in black leather, a ghost that haunts his waking hours and torments his dreams.

In all his years, he’s never encountered a more elusive creature.

He lifts his glass, ready to down the contents and ask for more when the rays of sun catch, making the amber gleam like a beacon. The flash of light makes him turn to the saloon’s grimy windows, eyes squinting against the sudden blinding glare.

That’s when he sees you.

Framed by the dusty window pane, across the street, you stand in the golden rays, a vision that seems to part the haze of whiskey and self-pity that’s been clouding his mind. Your smile always seems to make his breath catch; it’s warm and genuine and lights up your face when your smooth lips curl at anything you hear. Right now, he sees it as you bid farewell to your students. They swirl around you like an autumn breeze, their laughter permeable through the glass.

The pink-haired boy—Yuji—who loves to follow Nanami around, wobbles from around the schoolhouse, both hands on the reins of your beautiful Palomino Morgan mare, Buttercup, as he yells to you with a toothy smile.

Nanami blinks, realization slicing through his slightly alcoholic haze like a sharp knife. He’s lost track of time, nearly forgetting his daily ritual that you both share. With a muttered curse, he pushes away from the bar, throwing a few coins on the wood and leaving the half-empty glass behind.

The sudden brightness of the outdoors makes him wince, eyes adjusting to the shift, but never leaving your form. With a soft click of his tongue, Nanami’s handsome chestnut stallion, Flint, nickers at his approach on the side of the saloon, nuzzling his master’s cheek as Nanami strokes his mane and grabs his reins. The horse’s hooves kick up small clouds of dust with each step, matching the steady rhythm of Nanami’s spurs. As he crosses the dusty road, he hides his gaze beneath the shadow of his Stetson to take you in fully.

Nanami’s seen many pretty women in his lifetime. Delicate desert flowers that bloom and wither with the changing seasons. And for the sake of not being the hopeless romantic that Deputy Gojo makes him out to be, you are different. From the moment he laid eyes on you, stepping off that dusty stagecoach with determination set in your jaw and hope shining in your eyes, he knew you were something else entirely. It took him weeks to even speak to you.

Your hair, usually neatly pinned back for teaching, has come slightly loose after a long day with energetic children. A few curly strands dance in the hot breeze, catching the sunlight. Your dress, modest but well-fitted, flows down your body in pale blue, the hem slightly dirty from the grass and dirt. You stand with a posture that commands attention—an undeniable grace in the way you move and Nanami is victim to the call of your hips when they sway.

There’s a smudge of chalk on your cheek, dusty white against smooth brown skin that glows in the sun, and the slight furrow in your brow makes the side of his lips flinch to fight a smile. You’re tired—happy to have another day with children, but ready to get home and relax. You’ll probably take a bath, brush Buttercup’s mane, and try a new pie recipe. It’s little details about you that he’s learned over the years since you moved here, the small moments you’ve both shared that seem to make his heart pound faster than what it should when he’s near you.

Your beauty isn’t just the curve of your cheek or the curl of your lashes. It’s the gentle patience in your voice as you help a struggling student. It’s in your laugh, rich and uninhibited, ringing through his ears when he has the blessing to be near you. It’s in the fire that burns in your voice from ranting about yet another student leaving school to help his family’s farm, a passionate frustration that both terrifies and mesmerizes him.

The sun in this small town is unforgiving, but it paints you in hues of amber and gold, careful with its rays so as not to burn you. Nanami realized a long time ago that ‘pretty’ doesn’t begin to cover you. You’re breathtaking, in every sense of the word. A force of nature wrapped in pale blue calico and lace, stealing his breath and his weary heart with each passing day.

You ruffle Yuji's hair, taking the reins from him and nudging his shoulder to move him along, smiling as he takes off down the street towards his home. Sensing his approach, you finally turn to meet his gaze.

For a moment, Nanami feels exposed. Surely you can’t see the slight cloudiness in his irises from the whiskey? Hopefully, you can’t smell the alcohol that carries in the wind from his breath. Your smile only widens, a hint of knowing in your eyes, and his heart skips in his chest, missing a beat.

“Sheriff,” you greet him, a harmonious voice carrying a note of warmth that bubbles like hot oil in his belly. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten.”

Nanami clears his throat, fighting the rush of blood to his cheeks. “Never,” he manages, one hand resting on his horse’s flank.

“Still in the whiskey?” you tease, lifting an elegant brow. “My, my Sheriff, I didn’t imagine you to be the man.”

It’s easy for you to slice him open and leave him exposed to the open air, vulnerable. Nanami has never been one to be caught by surprise, but you always have him on his toes. In a gesture as old as the West itself, Nanami reaches up and removes his Stetson, holding it respectfully to his chest.

It’s a mechanical response, born from years of ingrained politeness from parents that have long gone, but it’s also more than that. The removal of his hat is an unspoken apology, a show of respect, and a moment of vulnerability all rolled into one.

He falters, unsure and throat tight as he struggles for something to say. To prove to you that he’s a good man and not the drunkard he feels like the mornings after a failed chase. He’s sure he looks like a schoolboy caught in mischief. But as he opens his mouth to defend himself, you chuckle, a rich timbre that makes the bubbling in his belly drip in thick rivulets down his pelvis.

“I’m only teasin',” you insist, stroking Buttercup’s mane, a mischievous smile doing little to help Nanami’s resolve.

Relief washes over Nanami’s face and he visibly relaxes, still not used to just how much you kid with him when you’re both together. He can’t bring himself to answer you or admit that drinking was exactly what he was doing. So he simply clears his throat, offering a gentle pat to your horse.

“Shall we?” he offers, moving to help you mount.

You nod, holding your breath as Nanami’s strong hands encircle your waist. With seemingly effortless strength, he lifts you onto Buttercup’s back, watching to ensure you’re secure before returning to his own horse. He swings himself up onto the saddle with ease, sliding his Stetson on carefully parted blonde locks. Side by side, you begin the ride home, your horses falling into a comfortable trot.

You never speak much, content to bask in your surroundings as you both walk together, but to him, just being close is everything he could ask for. He wishes he could whisk you up onto his horse and nuzzle his nose into the soft skin of your neck as you recall your day. He wishes he could smell the lavender soap you bathe with and the rosemary oil from your silky strands that he’s seen you buy at the general store. When he’s around you, he wishes for so much—he wants.

But an unmarried woman and man, both of position no less, would only garner gossip that he refuses to make you the center of. And his job is a dangerous one, filled with brutality and misery, of justice that seems to never be fulfilling, and he won’t be a man that leaves you in pain when he’s unable to come home.

As you both walk, the familiar sounds of the town surround them—the distant laughter of children, the creak of wagon wheels that pass them on the dirt road, the rhythmic sounds of hoofbeats and the occasional jingle of Nanami’s spurs, the smell of fresh-baked bread that floats in the cooling breeze, mingling with the earthy scent of dust and grass.

“How were the children today?” Nanami asks, trying to break through the self-inflicting resignation that clouds his mind.

You smile, launching into a story about Yuji's latest escapade with a frog in the classroom. Nanami listens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he imagines the always enthusiastic boy causing a fuss. He marvels at the way your eyes light up when you talk about your students, the passion evident in every word.

As you speak, Nanami can’t help but think of all the times over the years he’s wanted to ask for more. To invite you for dinner, to teach you to shoot on the acres of his ranch, to ask for a dance at the town social when you’re sitting alone, clapping along as Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara scuttle wildly in the lantern-lit barn. The words have been on the tip of his tongue countless times, but he always swallows them back. Content to tell himself he’s doing something noble even as every fiber of his being screams the opposite.

Your laughter pulls him from his thoughts, guttural and melodic in the air, and he realizes he’s missed part of your story. It feels like a crime to not be fully in your presence.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, feeling the flush return on his cheeks. His mind has only wandered off for moments, but already your house is in view, the front door signaling another end to a conversation with you. Another walk over, another day done. But you’re safe, and for now, that’s enough for him.

“Sheriff, do you actually listen to me when I speak?” you begin, playful in your accusation.

“Of course I—”

“Or you just like hearing me speak?” you interrupt, a smirk growing, mirth sparkling in beautiful eyes that always make his throat dry. “I didn’t realize my voice was so alluring.”

Nanami chuckles softly, dismounting Flint when you reach the gate on the side of your one-story house. “I’m not sure I can answer truthfully, ma’am.”

You hum, pursing your lips as you smooth the invisible wrinkles off your dress. He refrains from tracing the movement of your hands as they ebb and flow generous curves that rest beneath the fabric. “So you just like me then?”

I do.

Is what he wants to answer. Because he wants, and wants, and wants.

Instead, he guides you down from Buttercup, savoring the meat of your waist between his fingers, the warmth of your body in his hands. He waits patiently as you guide her through the gate and inside the stable behind your house. When you return, he can’t help but note the subtle disappointment in your eyes, the way one side of your lip pulls in as you bite into it. He wonders if his own face conveys the same, if you can see the subtle sag in his shoulders of having to leave you so soon.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, eyes simmering with what he wants to think is hope.

“Because I like to hear you speak,” he unwittingly teases, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, ma’am.”

As he moves to mount his horse, you’re transfixed by the fluid grace of his movements. He places one scuffed boot in the stirrup, strong corded hands gripping the saddle horn as he swings himself up and onto the Flint’s back like it’s nothing.

Atop his chestnut stallion, Nanami cuts an impressive figure. His sheriff uniform fits him perfectly. A tailored deep blue shirt with long sleeves rolled to his elbows and tucked into denim around a lean waist. A sturdy brown leather vest creased from long days under the sun emphasize his broad shoulders. On one side of his chest rests a gleaming tin star, a symbol of authority and responsibility with a bullet-sized dent beneath the words that signify him. On his left hip, a lasso is coiled neatly, ready for action at a moment’s notice. On his right, his gun rests in its leather holster—a weapon you’ve seen him use a few times—and a constant reminder of the dangers he faces to keep the town safe.

The late amber light casts a warm glow over his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes—a man who’s seen both laughter and hardship. Laughter he gives you when he can, hardship he refuses to indulge. His Stetson sits low on his brow, casting a shadow over umber eyes that make his gaze seem even more intense as he looks down at you.

No matter how many times you are both together, you are always struck by how handsome Nanami is. Rugged and weather-worn, yet with a gentleness in his eyes and kindness in his warm voice that makes your heart flutter. He’s the embodiment of everything a cowboy should be—strong, capable, and undeniably attractive.

As if sensing your admiration, he clears his throat loudly, dramatically, the corners of his lips twitching as you blink back to the present.

You retaliate in the only way you know how. “And stop calling me ma’am, as if we haven’t known each other for a few years.”

You insist on this every single time the title slips past his lips. And like every time before, Nanami smiles softly, reaches up, fingers grasping the brim of his Stetson, and tips his hat to you in a gesture that’s both gallant and a little playful.

“Have a good night, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes, mouth pulling into a small smile, heart beating like a drum in your chest, before you huff. “Goodnight, Sheriff.”

He watches you enter your home, waiting until the door closes behind you before clicking his tongue and shifting his weight, setting Flint into motion. The ride back to his office seems longer somehow, the town sounds a little dimmer as he gets closer, and the alluring smell of fresh bread he noted on the way to your house is now replaced with an enticing whisper of more whiskey now that you’re no longer by his side.

The church bells chime softly as you settle into your usual pew, absentmindedly picking lint off your lavender Sunday dress. You nod politely to Mrs. Watson, the baker’s wife, as she shuffles past with a hand on her youngster’s shoulder. Your eyes, soft and inviting to all who meet them, scan the congregation with practiced nonchalance.

Pastor Roberts steps up to the pulpit, black hair slicked with too much pomade, enormous silver rings on too many fingers, his voice booming through the small church. “Before we begin, I’d like to thank everyone who contributed to our new railroad station fund. And I’d like to give a very special mention to Mrs. Thompson, whose generous donation has brought us significantly closer to our goal. Your generosity truly embodies the spirit of our little community.”

The crowd breaks into genuine praise and applause. Mrs. Thompson, always seated in the back pew in her faded but clean dress, ducks her head modestly with a sheepish smile. Your heart clenches in despair, knowing she works grueling shifts at the general store just to make ends meet, her children practically raised by her neighbors. You’re sure that she’s only going above and beyond so her husband, who works many miles away, can come home often. She probably has nothing left—you just know it—and the thought makes your blood boil.

“Now, regarding the final sum we need,” the pastor continues, clearing his throat, “I’m sure we can count on our more…fortunate members to help us reach our goal.”

From the front pew, Mrs. Jones pipes up, her haughty voice carrying over the congregation. “Oh, we’d love to help next time, Pastor! We would’ve contributed more, but we had an unexpected expense with some…essential purchases this past week.”

She adjusts the luxurious new fur draped over her shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the irony of her words. You glare at the offensive garment, boiling blood now thickening with unquestionable anger.

Like so many other wealthy families in this town, the Jones are always eager to flaunt their excess, parading their luxury with heartless disregard for those who sacrifice their last penny for the common good. Content to take what they want, they turn a blind eye to those who truly need help, their indifference as cold as the coins they keep to themselves.

To others like them, poverty is a personal failing. In their minds, if people like Mrs. Thompson would try harder, work longer, or simply stop being sad and hungry out of sheer will, they too could reach the heights of wealth and respect. Preaching a gospel of bootstraps and self-reliance, willfully ignorant of the walls that keep the poor trapped.

Stepping foot in this sweltering church each Sunday is a test of your patience and resolve. But, you push through, hidden behind a mask of piety. As the pastor’s words fade into a monotonous hum, your attention shifts to the whispered gossip around you, ears poised for information that might prove useful. If Mama was still alive, she’d probably scold you if she knew your true intentions.

“Shameful,” Mrs. Clark mutters to her friend, her tone leaking with disdain and disbelief. “The Jones had enough for that fancy social at their house last week and an entire shipment of new furs, but not enough for something that we were all asked to contribute to? Just shameful, I tell you.”

“And here’s Mrs. Thompson giving what little she has just so her man can come home more often.”

You shake your head as you pretend to join in the gossip, your resolve hardening by the second.

Bingo.

After the service, you linger, making small talk with a widow about her new rhubarb pie recipe, when you spot your target.

“Oh, Mrs. Jones,” you call out, your voice dripping with misplaced sweetness. She turns around to face you, regal in cosmetics, a shade too bright, her fur sitting nicely on her neck even as she sweats like a sinner. “I meant to tell you earlier. Your fur is lovely.”

Mrs. Jones preens, her chest puffing like a peacock, basking in the attention. “Why thank you!” she gushes, dripping with false modesty. “Got them fresh last week. I would love for you to see the rest when I’m back in town. Jimmy and I leave for Millbrook and we’ll be gone for a week or two. It’s so refreshing to meet someone who appreciates fine things.”

You offer a small smile, excitement filling your body of your plans unfolding before you. “You’ll surely be missed. I do hope you have a wonderful time.”

She beams again, red lipstick cracking down the middle. “Make sure you stop by when we return, won’t you?”

You do stop by, but it’s a day after the Jones leave, a shadow among shadows. Buttercup leans into your touch when you brush a gloved hand along her glossy mane. You hop on her back, clicking your tongue to urge her into the night.

It’s further out of town, which makes this better for you—the fewer eyes, the better. The Jones estate looms ahead, dark and silent. You leave Buttercup a few yards away, patting her side as she lowers her head to graze. “I’ll be right back, girl. Just wait for my call.”

You circle to the back of the Jones’ house, glaring at the clean paint and beautiful greenery. A flickering light from a first-floor window catches your attention, and you duck down on impulse—the night watchman, no doubt. The Jones have enough money but spend too excessively to afford a maid. While this is a hindrance you can easily deal with, it’s still a thorn in your side. Patience has always been your ally, but tonight, it’s tested.

You know the town’s law enforcement, led by Sheriff Nanami, has been increasing patrols around wealthy homes because of your activities. The thought of him potentially catching you always sends a confusing concoction of thrill and dread through your veins.

Still, you wait, hidden in the shadows and the lush greenery around you, watching the guard’s routine. He leaves every ten minutes to patrol the house, returns, and scratches the sparse hair of his beard before plopping in his chair. His yawns grow more frequent as the night wears on, but he seems to alert himself with each distant noise. It takes a few more patrols and a few deep breaths to soothe your anxiety when you think you hear hoofbeats in the distance, but eventually, he settles one final time, his chin dropping to his chest as he dozes off, and you make your move.

A few windows over, a trellis catches your eye—perfect. Years of practice have taught you to distribute your weight evenly to avoid creaks as you climb the lattice. At the second-story window, you pause, listening. From your vantage point, the only source of light dimly from the living room below is the guard’s open door. The sound of his distant snores sets you back in action.

With ease, you manipulate the window latch, easing it open slowly to avoid any squeaks. You slip inside, your feet silent as they land on a plush carpet. The lavishness is an immediate assault on your senses—the air tinged with rose and peppermint, your eyes widening at the guest bedroom walls covered in paintings and deer heads. You grimace. Extravagant niceties that those less fortunate would give their soul for the value.

You pause at the top of the stairs, eyes scanning the house around you for anyone else, ears straining for any sound from the guard below or, worse, the approach of patrol outside. Satisfied, you ghost through well-decorated hallways towards the master bedroom. Without a moment to waste, you scan the ornate space. You know to secure your exits, and your entrances, and you smirk when you spot a sturdy chair on the other side of the room.

Silently, you wedge the chair under the doorknob, its back legs lifted slightly off the ground. It’s not the best, but it should buy you precious time if needed. You turn back to the master bedroom, eyes narrowed as you move on to your next step.

You’ve seen it all before, and no matter what, they keep their valuables in the same predictable places. A bookshelf with too much space that you can push against to open a second compartment. A floorboard slightly elevated than the rest. But for the Jones, it’s the garish family portrait above their bed—the same one Mrs. Jones boasted about at church weeks ago. Another unexpected but essential expense.

Your fingers work quickly as you carefully remove the painting, revealing the gleaming safe behind it. You press your ear against the cool metal, your fingertips ghosting over the dial. With precision, you begin to turn it, listening intently for the telltale clicks of the tumblers falling into place.

First to the right, slow and steady. Click. Back to the left, past the first number. Click. Right again, slower this time, feeling for the slightest resistance. Click.

Your breath catches as the final tumbler falls into place, heart racing with the promise of success as you slowly turn the handle. The safe door swings open with a satisfying creak, and inside, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight streaming through the window, sits your prize. Stack of crisp bills and glittering jewels, a physical manifestation of the good that they can do in the right hands.

As you transfer the wealth into your satchel, a floorboard creaks downstairs. You freeze, every muscle in your body taut as a bowstring, lungs seizing in your chest. You hear the rustle of clothing—the guard stirring in his chair. It feels like seconds stretch into an eternity as you wait, hand hovering over the gun on your hip. Just as your lungs scream for air, his snoring resumes, and you exhale slowly, your racing heart gradually steadying.

You’re hyper-aware of every sound as you work. The whisper of the bills, the soft clink of jewels—each seems magnified in the stillness of this gigantic house. You’re nearly finished, only two more stacks, when another creak echoes through the house, this one closer, more deliberate. There’s no settling floorboards from a new house or snoring night guard.

Someone’s here.

Suddenly, the doorknob jiggles violently, a voice on the other side booming through the previously silent house. You know the voice anywhere, one that haunts both your waking hours and your dreams.

Your heart picks back up, ice water filling your veins as the hairs on your neck stand up straight, but your hands remain steady as you gather the last of the valuables and ease the safe closed. Even in the face of being caught, you have to remain calm. It’s what’s kept you unnoticed and alive this long.

You replace the painting, your eyes already scanning the room for escape routes. You can easily go back out through the window, but the trellis you came upon is in the guest bedroom a few doors over. The jump from this window won’t be damaging, but it’ll hurt, and you don’t have time to use your rope to help you down.

Banging erupts against the door, the wood jumping from the force of the assault. “Sir! I’m here!” The night guard’s voice joins in beneath the noise, and you hear his hurried gait up the stairs.

You don’t have time for schematics. Time’s up. You throw the satchel around your shoulder and bolt for the window, only seconds before the door frame splinters from the strength of two men, the chair tumbling across the floor.

“Freeze!” A deep baritone barks, harsh and volatile, but you’re already halfway out the window, your leather boots pressed to the paneling, your hands holding you up like a spider monkey. You can’t help but pause, your wide-brimmed hat and black bandana obscuring most of your features. Coal-smudged eyes, their true color blending with the blackness surrounding them, meet the gaze of the man before you. He’s never been able to get a photo or any sort of evidence from you, not in times like these. He’ll never know who you are. But you know exactly who he is.

Sheriff Nanami Kento stands in the moonlit room, his stance wide and authoritative. Protector of the town, your number one purser, and a man who, despite your best efforts, has made a permanent home in your thoughts.

Mysterious mahogany eyes, usually kind and warm when they look at you during the day, now burn with determination and anger. That gun that you’ve seen him use to shoot targets and make Yuji laugh now points directly between your eyes.

As you look at him—the tension in his broad shoulders as they rise and fall beneath his shirt and vest, the dark circles under his eyes that speak of sleepless nights chasing your shadow—a pang of guilt slithers down your chest. Maybe if you take a small break with your escapades, he could get some sleep. You hate it when he’s tired, especially when you’re the cause.

But these thoughts are dangerous. Over the years, you’ve let him get too close, allowed him to see much of the real you, and now you’re beginning to feel the consequences.

But you can think about this another time; you’ve stayed longer than necessary. Right now, you have a job to finish. With a hitch in your breath, you drop to the ground. You land with a thud, your ankles absorbing the impact. A sharp pain shoots up your right leg, but you grit your teeth and push through it. You can’t afford to stop now.

The wild grass is thick as you sprint through the open fields, the satchel of stolen valuables bouncing heavily against your hip. Your breath slices through your lungs in short gasps, the cool night air burning in your chest. Behind you, you hear the chaos of pursuit. Nanami’s commanding voice mixes with the night guard’s confused shouts, and the sound of boots hitting the ground tells you they’ve made it out of the house.

You ignore the ebbing pain in your ankle, pushing yourself harder, faster. The grass gets taller with every inch you gain, whipping at your leather-clad legs as you tear through the field, the darkness both a hindrance and a shelter. You use the moonlight to guide you, your eyes scanning the landscape for the rock face you left Buttercup at on your way here.

A distant whinny in your ear cues you instantly. You whistle for her sharply, praying your faithful steed is close enough to hear. Her thundering hooves answer your prayers, growing louder by the second as she matches your sprint.

She appears like magic, slowing enough for you to leap onto her back and urge her into a gallop with a click of your tongue and a squeeze of your knees. With your view no longer obscured by the tall grass, you turn back to the disappearing estate, your heart dropping when you spot several riders—Nanami’s men, no doubt—headed toward you.

Gunshots pop through the air, the whoosh of silver bullets whizzing past your ears and missing their mark. But they’re getting closer. You hold your breath, absorbing the minute fear that blooms in your chest as you risk another glance behind you. Nanami is now at the front, his face grim and emboldened.

A snort from Buttercup turns your attention ahead. You fold low over her neck, your thighs contracting and relaxing in harmonious sync with her thunderous gallops. You taught yourself how to ride after Mama died, determined to do whatever it took to make it through the world. You found Buttercup then, neglected and forgotten, a mirror of your own lost soul. Now, years later, you both move as one, you anticipating her every move born of trust and time, she responds to the smallest shift of your weight as if reading your very thoughts.

Up ahead, the path narrows, winding through a rocky formation that makes you pull in your shoulders on reflex, as if you’re squeezing to fit. You guide Buttercup with a slight shift of the reins and a coo to her twitching ears.

There’s a fallen tree a few yards away, blocking most of the path and making it almost impassable. But you know what you can do. With a click of your tongue and a minuscule pressure of your knees into her sides, she reads your message immediately, huffing before launching over the thick oak in a magnificent leap. She lands with grace on the other side, hooves kicking up dirt in victory. It buys you the seconds that you need, but it won’t be enough. Nanami and his men will find their way around, and you need this chase to end. Now.

Ahead, a boulder ten times your size, with jagged edges and thick cracks, creates a fork in the path. You form an idea that is risky but will buy you the time you need to get home safely.

You guide Buttercup down the left path, your hand reaching for the pistol on your hip. You wind up the reins in one hand, squeezing the leather to hold you steady as you swiftly turn in your saddle to face the dusty world behind you. With the change in position, your hips work against the momentum of Buttercup’s stride instead of with it, and your tweaked ankle stings with every slap against her side. But you’ve practiced this before, and your balance is perfect, hand steady even as you move at breakneck speed.

Nanami and his men emerge from the curve of the path, eyes locked on you with deadly intent, and in that split second, you take your shot.

You’re not aiming to kill or even injure—your target is the lanterns that hang from each saddle horn. Amidst the bucking of your hips and the wind that whizzes past your ears, you hold your breath—forcing your heart to slow as your vision tunnels, and your finger squeezes the trigger. Before Nanami and his men can even reach for their guns, the air cracks, gunshots from your firearm hitting their mark to make the lanterns explode. It has its desired effect—their horses are startled, bucking onto their back feet as they whine in fright.

Nanami doesn’t want to, you can tell from the look in his eyes, but he has no choice but to look away. His eyes leave you as he tries his best to console his stallion and the rest of his gang. You take advantage of the chaos and twirl back around, relaxing your hand on the reins and exhaling the painful breath that was lodged in your lungs.

“Good girl,” you murmur, patting Buttercup’s neck as you coax her into a more fierce gallop and disappear into the night, the sounds of pursuit fading behind you. The satchel on your hip bucks with your mare’s kicks, reminding you of a job well done.

Even with the adrenaline of success thrumming through you, your mind always wanders back to the ‘why’ of it all.

When the guilt tries to curl in your chest when you least expect it, you remember Mama’s sunken face as she divided a molded loaf of bread between the two of you. You remember the hollow eyes of your neighbors too proud to beg. You remember the day you and Mama stood outside the general store in your hometown, staring at a display of fresh fruit, its price more than your weekly earnings. You remember being shooed away by the store owner, muttering about “ill-bred women,” lowering the tone of his establishment.

That night after Mama finally fell asleep, you stole for the first time. So skinny that you could slip through the gap in Mr. Thornton’s fence of his apple orchard. You took only one—a small, slightly misshapen apple covered in dirt—fear rattling your bones at the thought of being caught. But its sweetness, shared with Mama the next morning, was everything you could have asked for.

The concept of right and wrong has always been blurred for you. You’re certainly not right in the eyes of the law, or perhaps even in the eyes of God that Mama believed in so much. But when you distribute your spoils in the dead of night, slipping money through house doors. When you see the disbelief turn to joy on a widow’s face because she can feed her children another week. When you watch a frail old man cry over a warm coat that will see him through the winter—you sleep a little better.

The world isn’t fair. You learned that lesson far too soon in your life. But in your own way, with these midnight heists and heart-pounding adventures, you’re trying to balance some sort of scale. It’s not justice…but it’s something. Something that lets you look at yourself in the mirror each morning, that calms the angry, helpless, and hungry child still living in your memories.

Tomorrow, you’ll begin distributing this wealth to those who truly need it. Yuji's grandpa will have enough to buy his grandson new clothes. Mrs. Thompson will have enough to make up for the remaining savings she gave to the church. And come Monday, you’ll greet Sheriff Nanami with a warm smile as he walks you home from a day’s work at the school, your secret safe for another day.

The thrill of every heist, the satisfaction of outwitting the law, the knowledge that you’re helping those in need—it all mingles in your veins like the sweetest whiskey you tease the Sheriff for indulging in. As the stars twinkle overhead as you wash the coal from Buttercup’s nose that hides her white markings, you allow yourself a moment of pride. It’s probably not much in the grand scheme of things, but to someone in this town, it’ll mean the world.

“Did you hear about Mrs. Jones’s place?”

“Ma says the bandit struck again, cleaned them out in seconds!”

You keep your face carefully neutral as you pick up on your student’s conversations that dance on the hot air, but you’re filled with pride and guilt. You can’t help but think of Sheriff Nanami, of the frustration you see etched on his handsome face so often. Even yesterday, those determined eyes flickered with hints of shame. For a moment, doubt creeps in, whispers in your ears like a tease, threatening to unearth everything you’ve worked for.

But then you look at Sarah’s new turquoise ribbon that compliments her wheat-colored hair as she twirls in a circle on the dusty road. You remember Tommy’s gait as he said goodbye to you just minutes ago, no longer wobbly now that his toes have room to move in new shoes.

The whispers of your students and how surprised and elated they were to find money under their doorstep make you steel yourself. Despite the risks, despite the growing complexity of your feelings—it’s always worth it.

Your life is a study in contrasts. Mornings are quiet affairs—a cup of coffee, a soothing hand down Buttercup’s mane as she eats her breakfast, the silence of an empty classroom. Afternoons explode with energy—eager questions, laughter, and the occasional disagreement amongst your students. You think of Mama, how she read to you as a child, planting seeds of knowledge that would one day bloom into your passion for teaching. It’s another way you give back—maybe some form of atonement you aren’t ready to address—but to fill another generation’s head with knowledge is a gift you wouldn’t trade.

Coming to this town years ago was an escape—from the pain of Mama’s death, from the constant fear of your life as a thief. You only meant to stay a few months, take what you needed, give it back to those like you, and vanish. But loneliness has a way of anchoring a soul.

Months became years. A solitary existence morphed into friendships with neighbors and an undeniable connection with the stoic sheriff who walks you home, an unspoken affection blossoming between you.

Years of experience have made you attuned to the whispers in town. You know how much Mr. Fletcher has hidden away in his safe. You know what date and time certain shipments come in and who they are going to.

Lately, though, whispers of a different sort have caught your ear. Tales of a hidden treasure in the old mine outside of town. Yuji talks about it almost every day, how his grandfather is convinced the treasure is real. The town’s cobbler rolls his eyes at the rumor, often grumbling about how the citizens should focus on earning revenue through hard work and no shortcuts. The more adventurous of the town have scoped the plains around this town time and time again. But it’s never bore any fruit.

Even you have dismissed it as just another local legend. But the thought nags at you, a persistent itch you can’t quite scratch. While you do not doubt the well-meaning residents of this town, they may not have your experience. They may not know how to scale a rocky mountain or where to look. But you do.

You’ve spent years justifying your actions, convincing yourself that the end justifies the means. That it’s a necessary evil in a world that turns a blind eye to suffering. To walk away now feels like the biggest betrayal of everything you’ve fought for, everything your Mama taught you about standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Even last night, you went through your routine of reiterating that what you’re doing is for a good cause.

But the twinge in your ankle when you woke up this morning. The bleariness in your eyes from little sleep. The exhaustion weighs heavily on you. The loneliness is more palpable every morning when you roll over to an empty bed. Because you can’t share the darkness of your secrets with anyone. Is it selfish to want a normal life after being exposed to the rotten core of it? To want stability, a future untainted by the shadow of your past, to want love? Or is it more selfish to continue on this path, risking everything—including the hearts of those who’ve come to care for you—for a cause that seems never-ending?

The infinite revolving of these thoughts makes you think twice about those rumors. So…what if the treasure is real? What if there’s enough hidden away to help everyone in town, to right all the wrongs you’ve seen? Enough to let you hang up this hidden life for good, to just be the schoolteacher—no more lies, no more risks, no more seeing the weight of failure in Nanami’s eyes.

Hours later, after your students have long gone, you’re atop Buttercup, having decided an afternoon ride might clear your head. You break through the bustle of town, the sun painting the landscape of open plains. As you crest a small hill, you scan the horizon, absorbing every detail with practiced observation that’s served you well in your double life.

You remember it all from your first few weeks here—a dilapidated shed outside of town, a small lake where wild animals drink from to the north. But with more focus, to the West, you spot unfamiliar rocky terrain. What catches your eye is how the rocks seem to fit together—not stacked with the random chaos of nature, but with an almost deliberate precision. It’s as if the hands of a giant stacked them long ago, their edges now overgrown and softened by wind and time.

If you were to slowly move the rocks over time, you could find an unexplored cave on the other side—not a mine like the rumors claim. Whatever it could be, it’s definitely worth investigating. You make a mental note of its location, your innate sense of direction and topography—honed by years of midnight runs—ensuring you can find it easily again.

As you make one last sweep across the landscape, your ears pick up on the stressed mooing of cows and the yells of men. After riding toward the source for a few minutes, you finally spot the commotion. Mr. Williams’ well-maintained fence is broken with wooden boards sprawled on the plains as a group of cattle amble and run free. They shuffle as fast as their heavy bodies will take them, mooing loudly in distress.

You’ve done some wrangling as a young girl, a grueling job that paid you very little to feed you and Mama, so you immediately hone in on the weak points of the fence and the patterns of the cattle’s movement.

You spring into action, clicking your tongue and squeezing your thighs around Buttercup to make her take off. The wind whips through your hair, loosening curls from your usually neat bun. As you draw closer, your heart leaps in your chest.

There, in the midst of the chaos, is Nanami. He sits on his stallion with an easy grace that makes your mouth go dry. Eyes narrowed with determination, cheekbones glossy with sweat and dirt. His vest is gone, and you note the navy long sleeve that squeezes his thick form, his forearms exposed and veiny. His strong biceps flex as he twirls his lasso, long fingers cinched tight around the base of the noose, wrist twirling in a motion you’ve thought about late at night with your fingers buried deep inside of you.

Gods, he’s handsome. Even that first day when you both met in front of the general store, Nanami reaching down to collect the books you had dropped, you knew then he would be your undoing. He has proven to be the one constant in your mind when you should be thinking about your goal.

He’s the kind of man that you could bring home to Mama, though you’d have to keep a watchful eye on her so she doesn’t flirt herself. He’s the kind of man who can work the fields and protect a town, that can fend off criminals and walk children the school, that can come home after a long day and kiss you until your eyes roll into your skull. That can grunt in appreciation from the fingernails that dig into his back, your legs wrapped around his waist as he buries himself to the hilt and—

“Need a hand, Sheriff?” you call out, shaking yourself back to reality, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. You can think about him later. Right now, that adventurous itch comes to life at the base of your spine. You love being a teacher, but you miss things like this—the thrill of the ride, the tingling sensation of a challenge, and Nanami’s presence all combine to create a heady rush of adrenaline through your veins.

Nanami’s head turns at the sound of your voice, deep brown eyes widening in surprise. The movement of his wrist stops, and his lasso plops on his head, musing perfectly parted blonde locks as the rope smacks the sides of his face. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, yes, but adoration and something more pungent that makes your skin tingle.

“Ma’am, this isn’t exactly—” he starts, but you’re already taking off.

A whistle from your lips springs Buttercup into action, galloping a wide birth around the scattered calves. You free your own rope from your saddle horn, the weight in your hands a comforting reminder of late nights practicing in your stable. You hitch up, bunching your thighs with hidden strength, twirling the lasso once, twice, feeling the perfect balance of it.

Then, with a fluid movement, you send the rope flying towards the calf closest to you. It arcs through the air before finding its mark, settling around the calf’s neck with perfect precision. You ignore the feel of Nanami’s eyes on you as you wrestle to rebellious calf back into Mr. Williams’ yard. The man himself is already releasing the rope and ushering the calf away from the fence that is slowly being repaired by his ranch hands.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Nanami asks when you pace up next to him. The lasso is still haphazard over his head, lips parted in astonishment.

“Are you implyin' that I shouldn’t know how to do that, Sheriff?” you tease, guiding Buttercup in a slow trot around Nanami and his stallion. He fumbles to correct himself, cheeks heating as he pulls at the rope around his neck and shoulders. “Should I only know teachin' and how to care for a home?”

“N-now you know that’s not what I—”

You cut him off with a sharp chuckle, making another rotation around him and his steed, a mischievous glint in your eye. “You’re so gullible.” He throws you a wary look, finally pulling the lasso off his body in a huff. “Now, are you gonna help me, or not?”

You and Nanami fall into sync, working in tandem to herd the cattle back into Mr. Williams’ enclosed space. It’s perfect choreography—when Nanami moves right, you’re already swinging left.

Before long, you spot a flash of white in your peripheral vision. Deputy Gojo leans against the fence, his shock of white hair practically reflective in the sun. He’s been practically absent up until this point and, unlike you and Nanami, seems in no rush to join the action. He eyes you with a charismatic smile, flirtatious in his gaze, but you’re quick to roll your eyes playfully and get back to the task at hand.

There’s a grace to Nanami’s body as he works. His hips roll with each movement of his horse, the rock back and forth, a rhythm hypnotic and alluring. The muscles in his denim-clad thighs flex as he grips his mount, powerful and thick. His face maintains his usually iron-faced composure, focused on the task, but an undeniable beauty to his concentration. The setting sun enhances his features, the shadows accentuate his strong jaw and cheekbones. A bed of sweat traces a tantalizing path down his neck, disappearing beneath a collar that’s three buttons undone.

As you drive a cow forward, Nanami is there to lasso and guide it home. The way he hands his horse, the quiet commands and clicks, the subtle shifts of his body, and the grunts that leave his form when he throws his lasso—it all speaks of a man completely in control, and you find it mesmerizing…and utterly arousing. There’s something primal and enticing about watching him move, about being in such perfect harmony with him. It’s a blaring reminder of the attraction that’s been simmering between you.

At one point, you end up riding side by side, so close that your legs brush against each other. The contact, even through the layers of your dress, is scalding. You steal a glance at Nanami, darting through the disheveled curls in front of your eyes, only to find him already looking at you. Those dark eyes are smoldering—intense with an emotion that radiates from you both and squeezes your throat tight.

As the last cow meanders through the repaired fence, you both are panting from exhaustion, guiding your horses to a slow stroll. Mr. Williams jogs towards you both, followed closely by Gojo, a lazy saunter and an ever-present mischievous look on his face.

“I had no idea you could wrangle so well,” Mr. Williams exclaims, waving enthusiastically as he reaches up and takes the reins of both your horses to lead them towards a water trough. “That was incredible. I have no idea how to repay you.”

You wave him off, trying not to preen under the praise. Gojo's incredibly rare and well-bred snow-white Quarter Horse saunters up to you, the animal indignant in his strides just as much as its owner.

“Well,” Gojo drawls, crystal blue eyes sweeping appreciatively over your form. “Didn’t think a schoolteacher had fine lasso skills. Any other skills I should know about? You can show me at the town festival in a few weeks.”

It’s undeniably forward, enough to make a dignified man turn beet red in anger and a fragile woman faint. But it’s Deputy Gojo Satoru—uncaring of the world that he feels revolves around him.

“Gojo,” Nanami snaps, harsh and biting with an undercurrent that makes your spine straighten. “For once in your life, stop pestering every woman within a few feet of you.”

You can’t help but chuckle, shrugging dismissively and patting Buttercup’s neck as she drinks. “No harm done, Sheriff. I’m sure Deputy Gojo here was just being friendly, weren’t you?” You ask, voice laden with a double meaning that makes Gojo smile warily, suddenly apprehensive. “Though I’d caution against mistaking friendliness for interest. Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea and end up disappointed…again.”

Gojo's jaw drops, Mr. Williams chokes on a snort a few yards away, and you hear Nanami stifle a harsh grunt that cracks on the edges.

Gojo sputters, pale white cheeks burning, his usual confidence faltering in the night air as he flaps his gills. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never been disappointed in matters of the heart.”

You hum nonchalantly, pursing your lips in disbelief. “Oh? So that wasn’t you I saw sulking behind the saloon last month? What was it you were muttering? Something about Geto turning you down for the second time?”

At the mention of Geto's name, Gojo's blue eyes widens, a squeak eeping from glossy lips. Nanami, unable to contain himself any longer, lets out a bark of laughter.

“I—that’s not—how did you—” Gojo stammers, looking between you and Nanami with wide, suspicious eyes. You simply shrug, glancing at Nanami. There’s a glimmer of amusement there, a shared moment of mirth at Gojo's expense. At some point, Gojo grows tired of entertaining you both, clicking his mouth in annoyance and taking off towards town. You snort at his retreating form, giggling with the rush of excitement of the evening.

When Mr. Williams sees you both off, the night is a cool blanket around you both. The moon sits high, a silver pendant on the velvet black sky, while the stars twinkle like scattered diamonds. For awhile, you both ride in silence, the rhythmic clop of hooves a soothing melody to your turmoil from earlier in the day. The air carries the scent of grass and wildflowers, mixing with the sweat that lingers on your skin. It’s Nanami who breaks the quiet, his deep voice a relaxing current of electricity down your spine.

“He will only take your wit as a challenge,” he muses, mildly amused.

“Gojo will forget all about me the minute Ms. Foxworth bats her eyelashes at him.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle, casting his face in a brief flash of masculine flirtation that makes your heart skip. “And Ms. Foster,” he adds, catching onto your game.

“And Ms. Chamberlain,” you continue, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“And I’m pretty sure Mrs. Jones,” Nanami finishes, snorting to himself because she’s married, and that’s never stopped Gojo before.

Your eyes meet, scandalous realization settling over you both, and in that moment, the ridiculousness of it all bubbles up inside. Laughter erupts from you first, a released cascade of glee as your head tilts to the night sky. The sound of Nanami’s deep chuckles mingles with your giggles, creating a harmony that seems to resonate in your very bones. It feels good to laugh with Nanami. Just like any other time you spend with him. It takes your mind off the thought of leaving this town—of leaving him—forever.

The night is cool against your skin, but your chest blooms with warmth. You’re about to comment on the beauty of the star-studded sky when you notice Nanami reach into his vest pocket. He pulls out a cigarette, lips wrapping around the filter with a firm but gentle grip.

Your heart sinks, a leaden weight pulling it further down your rib cage. You’ve noticed he only smokes when he’s particularly stressed, and the sight of it now, after such a wonderful evening, makes you frown. You know it’s because of his work, the harshness he sees every day, and his relentless pursuit of the bandit—of you—only makes it worse for him. The remorse gnaws at your insides like a rabid animal.

Doing your best to mask the torrent of emotions threatening to consume you, you aim for a teasing approach. “Stressed, Sheriff?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow and hoping he can’t hear the slight shake in your voice.

Nanami pauses, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks at you with a flicker of embarrassment, highlighting the tired lines around his eyes that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips. “Ah, my apologies,” he says, moving to put it away. “The smell—”

You wave him off. “I don’t mind. Not much of a smoker when I need to relax.”

He hums but doesn’t respond, striking a match and cupping large hands around the flame. The brief light illuminates his face, casting shadows across his face. You find yourself transfixed by the way the flame reflects in his dark eyes, like embers in the night.

He takes a long drag, the tip brightening in burnt orange and gold. Nanami exhales, the smoke curling seductively from his nose and into the air, the sight more enticing than it should be. “So, when do you smoke, ma’am?”

His voice is entirely too low, entirely too deep. You playfully glare at the use of ��ma’am’ for what feels like the nth time since you’ve known each other. You decide to be mischievous, precariously throwing caution to the wind.

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, looking up at the sky as you try to emit an air of faux innocence. Nanami looks at you cautiously, raising a dark blonde eyebrow expectantly, eyes narrowing as he picks up on the teasing tilt in your voice. “You smoke when you’re stressed. I smoke to unwind from a job well done. Preferably, after taking a good man for a ‘ride’.”

Heat simmers beneath your skin as you speak, low and husky and loaded with suggestive humor that surprises even you.

It’s an immediate effect and more satisfying than you could have ever imagined. Nanami sputters, choking on the smoke. His eyes go wide, and crimson erupts up the glimpse of open chest and neck, visible even in the moonlight, spreading to his cheeks in a way that makes you want to trace its path with your lips.

You can’t help but giggle as he coughs. “You make it too easy sometimes, Sheriff,” you say between laughs.

Nanami clears his throat repeatedly, desperately trying to regain his composure. But you catch the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile that makes you bite into your bottom lip. His chest heaves as he takes in deep breaths, and your eyes watch the way his shirt stretches across his wide shoulders with each inhalation.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he finally manages in a rough voice, glaring at you with a mix of exasperation and fondness that warms you from the inside out.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink, reveling in the way his breath catches again at your boldness. He shakes his head with a chuckle, turning back to the open plains in front of him.

You notice that some of the tension has left Nanami’s shoulders, his posture relaxed once more. Your guilt eases a little, knowing that, at least for this moment, you’ve managed to lighten his burden rather than add to it.

“Gojo likes trouble as much as he likes wit. Stay away from him and pick someone else.” He pauses, opening his mouth as he weighs his next words with delicacy. “I imagine you have a line of suitors with far more promise than Gojo hoping to escort you to the festival.”

Nanami’s voice is soft, almost wistful, wrapped around an overwhelming cluster of resignation that makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. His eyes are fixed on the horizon as your horses walk side by side, but you can see a tightness around his mouth, a tension in his jaw that speaks volumes.

“I haven’t really paid much attention, to be honest,” you admit, surprised at his sudden remark. You try to keep your tone light and nonchalant, praying he can’t hear the slight tremor, the silent truth that threatens to spill from your lips—that the only man you truly notice is him. Every day, all the time, from sunup to sundown, it’s always Nanami Kento.

Nanami hums thoughtfully, fingering the sharp cut of his jaw. “That fellow from the saloon a few weeks back? He seemed taken with you.” He pulls in a deep drag, sunset orange ebbing to life at the tip.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. The memory of that particular encounter was both amusing and exasperating. “He was three sheets to the wind, Nanami. Claimed to know my drink of choice and got it wrong when he recommended scotch, of all things.”

Nanami exhales a smoky breath, the wisps ghosting around a smirk that makes him look statuesque with the rolling plains behind him. “You prefer moonshine,” he muses, “The kind Kilmer makes, if I’m not mistaken.”

Your heart skips a beat at his casual observation. Moonshine isn’t exactly legal in town, but when the bartender Kilmer works the saloon on Wednesday nights, most of the residents ask for his prized moonshine if no deputies are around. Of all the things for him to pay attention to, your drink of choice seems like such a small, insignificant detail.

You bite the corner of your lip to keep from breaking into a wide smile, belly warm at the thought.

“Not like I can admit to that,” you tease, digging your teeth harder into your bottom lip as the simmering grows in your stomach. “Aren’t you supposed to be upholdin’ the law?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to snatch them back. You’re aware of how much pressure the sheriff places on himself. How he feels unworthy of the badge on his chest. There has never been a day in your knowing him where you felt he was undeserving. Of the town, of all of its citizens, of you. If you could turn his face to a mirror and stand by his side while you tell him just how deserving he is, you would in a heartbeat.

Nanami’s smile fades slightly, a heavy weariness etching onto his features. He takes another drag and turns his head away as he exhales. “This town is small, and times are hard. Sometimes…moonshine is all someone can afford if they need to get away from the world for a while.” He pauses, his eyes meeting yours in the moonlight. “A good lawman knows when to look the other way for the sake of his people.”

It’s times like these when you admire the man Nanami is. He’s rough around the edges and stern with the law, but he’s also empathetic enough to know when some rules should be lax based on those they affect. Maybe he could think the same about you? Maybe he could understand your self-imposed noble acts and forgive you for causing him so much pain.

Nanami clears his throat, seemingly eager to change the subject. “The man at the general store two months ago? He could hardly string two words together around you.”

“He was at least five years younger than me,” you counter, giggling at his persistence. “Hardly appropriate. What will the town think?”

“That you’re incredibly picky—” he starts, but you cut him off with a playful swat to his arm.

“Or maybe,” you chuckle with a playful roll of your eyes, “they’ll think I have standards. Is that so wrong, Sheriff?”

“Not at all. Though, I can’t help but wonder what those standards might be.”

Oh.

You’re immediately aware of how dangerous this conversation has become. You’ve never flirted so blatantly before, never with such clear intention. The banter between you and Nanami has always been a harmonious push and pull, as natural as breathing, even though you both treat it as a forbidden dance. But this shift now—it’s palpable, exciting, and terrifying all at once. But the night air, the lingering adrenaline from the cattle drive, that pump of electric fire that pulses through your veins when you can feel free for a moment, all of it makes you bold.

“Someone kind,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the moment. “Intelligent also helps, dedicated to his work and cares about the people around him.” You risk a glance, hiding beneath the curtain of your curls. Your heart races, each beat echoing the recklessness that coats your tongue with every word. “Someone who notices the little things…like a lady’s drink preference.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. It’s as if you’ve finally given a voice to the undercurrent that’s been flowing between you, transforming your ocean of subtle flirtation into something more tangible, more precarious.

Nanami’s gaze, usually so controlled, molds before your eyes. In the flickering embers of his cigarette, you see something molten, a desire that slides down your body with liquid arousal. His lips purse around his cigarette, your eyes flickering to the muscle that curls around the filter, watching with rapt attention as he inhales deeply, slowly.

When you slide your eyes up to meet his, your breath catches at the still-burning intensity. Your vision tunnels to the reflective desire in his eyes, the moonlight on his face, the tension that crackles between you like lightning before a storm. It’s almost too much, your chest tightening with still stolen breath in your lungs.

But just as quickly, he looks away, severing the connection and turning to exhale a plume of smoke into the darkness.

“He sounds like a fool.”

The tension breaks like a dam, and you find yourself choking on a surprised laugh, chortling at the full smile he shoots your way as if bashful. He seems like a flirtatious teenager, basking in the attention from his crush, and you hold on to the sight—to the way it’s making you feel.

As your laughter fades and he puts out his cigarette on the heel of his boot, the atmosphere shifts again. The sizzling lust that danced around you both softens into something more intimate, more tender.

The moonlight catches in Nanami’s hair, turning the golden strands liquid silver. No longer the pristine part he maintains, the strands fall in gentle tufts around the tops of his ears and over his eyebrows. Your fingers twitch on the reins of Buttercup, itching to reach out and brush those disheveled strands away, to feel if they’re as soft as they look.

Nanami, soft when he speaks again, almost reverent. “You’d be surprised, you know,” he murmurs, looking at you once more. “Just how many people notice you.”

His words sway in the air, loaded with meaning. You find yourself frozen, caught in the earth of his gaze, the sincerity making your throat dry. Even as your hips move with Buttercup’s trot, it feels like the world narrows to just the two of you, eyes on each other as everything else fades into insignificance.

Suspended in time and bathed in moonlight, you wish you could push a little further, draw out a confession, or make a declaration of your own. You want to stretch this moment into eternity, to live in this space where you only exist as a schoolteacher, and Nanami could put his own happiness first, just for once.

But reality intervenes, as it always does, with a painful wave of guilt that crashes over you. The weight of your secrets, of your double life, of your part in his pain, settles heavily on your shoulders like lead. So, instead of the words you long to say, you offer only a gentle smile, letting the serene silence of the night envelop you both.

As the first glimmers of the town’s lamplights come into view, you allow yourself this moment of peace. You bask in Nanami’s presence beside you, in the rhythm of the horses’ hooves, in the soft ‘plop’ of his Stetson against his back with each step. You breathe in the memory of shared laughter and adventure, storing it away like a precious treasure.

It’s dangerous—this indulgence—you know. Every shared moment, every word, every loaded glance yanks you further into a web of feelings you can’t afford to have. But as you ride side by side through the moonlight, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Not tonight.

Instead, you hold this memory close to your heart, a keepsake against the long, lonely nights ahead. It’s a bittersweet reminder of what could be, in a world where you aren’t who you are—a world that exists only in these fleeting moments under the vast, star-studded sky.

By the time you clamber up to your doorstep, Buttercup is already resting in her stable, and that terrible feeling of guilt and confusion roars to life in your chest. You wrap your hand around your doorknob before turning to look at Nanami. He’s still there, with messy hair and sweaty skin, as he reaches into his vest for another cigarette. Handsome and otherworldly and right there. He catches your stare as he places the filter between his lips, one eyebrow quirking up in concern.

“Everything alright?” he asks, the unlit cigarette dangling as he speaks. “I’m not leaving until you’re safely inside.”

You wish you could relish in his concern, bathe in his care, and savor the warmth that blooms in your chest. But you’re not sure you’ve even earned it.

“I’m goin’, I'm goin',” you joke, cracking the door as you step one foot inside your home, still angled to him.

“Well, hurry along then,” he insists, a gentle demand lingering beneath. He lights the cigarette, cheeks pulled in as he inhales full-chested and exhales a deep plume of smoke. Through the haze that dances around him, you find mischief as he smirks. “Ma’am.”

The laugh leaves you before you can stop it, rolling your eyes at his deliberate use of the title he knows annoys you. With a final wave, you step inside, closing the door behind you.

The laughter dies on your lips as soon as the door clicks closed and you press your forehead against the cool wood, eyes stinging with the promise of tears. The clop of Flint’s hooves slowly fades as Nanami gets further away from you, and the only thing you wish at this moment is to yank open the door and run to him. To run away from your terrifying thoughts and forget everything.

Next week, when Mr. and Mrs. Phillips leave town, you have another heist planned. It should feel promising. Another chance to do good, to make others happy at the expense of your safety. But the thought sits heavy in your stomach, the lightness you felt moments ago with Nanami leaving in a flourish.

That nagging feeling from this morning, the festering loneliness born from your decisions, finally breaks free now that you have nothing else to distract you. It makes everything so much harder now. The thrill that once drove you feels muted now, overshadowed by something else—something warm and achingly intimate that’s taken root in your chest.

You slide down to the floor, back against the door, bottom lip quivering as conflict rages like an inferno within you. Tomorrow, you’ll have to start preparing. But tonight, you can’t help but wonder if your heart is truly in this anymore.

Thanks for reading! Here’s Part Two!

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la-muerta · 3 months ago

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[ENG SUB + Translation] Hou Minghao's farewell message to Zhao Yuanzhou, 16 Nov 2024

"There's always a breeze or two in the mortal world that can send me on beautiful dreams for 18,000 miles."

This trip in the mortal world is a journey that I, Zhao Yuanzhou, had to make.

A one-word spell: Dream. Now, let me tell you a story...

In the Great Wilderness, everyone knows me, and everyone sees me as the Great Demon that has committed every evil deed, deserving of death. But I made the unexpected choice to enter the fray with sworn enemies, old friends, and new acquaintances, embarking on a new path investigating cases and hunting demons together. To voluntarily sign a contract that decided my death date... most people would think that is an ill-omened beginning. But to me it was a relief, to finally be free of the prison that was of my own making...

Fate bound our demon hunting team together, and as we solved cases together, we got to know each other's true hearts. Some amongst us conquered might with gentleness, some amongst us were full of righteousness, some soft-hearted despite our tough exterior, some are lively troublemakers, some holding on to a true heart. Such a motley crew coming together and the only thing they seemed to be able to agree on was: that I wasn't to be trusted. They know me as Zhao Yuanzhou, but they can't forget all the evil I did as a Great Demon. But it didn't matter since I didn't hold much hope for myself as well, so all these other emotions didn't mean anything to me.

If you asked why I came here, I would tell you it's because I am the Great Demon Zhu Yan, forced to bear the burden of being born as a "vessel". I lost control and made an unredeemable mistake, and only death can eliminate the pain in my heart. Living is torture; Death is the gift of relief. However, I also wanted to give myself a chance at redemption, a boat rowing against the current.

Along the way, the demon hunting team encountered many complicated cases, but we worked hand in hand to solve them and the blades that we had pointed towards each other were turned towards the outside. Sworn enemies became comrades in arms, and as we took one step closer to saving the world, we also uncovered wounds that had already scarred over. As we saw each other's past wounds more clearly, we saw the past laughter that was used to hide the pain. Those who had a responsibility to protect found themselves unable to, those bearing the burdens of upholding the family's honour were just trapped in a dream, and those should have grown up with no worries found their world turned upside down overnight...

If you have a nightmare, someone might comfort you by saying don't worry, everything that happens in a dream is inverted. But what if it's a beautiful dream? Everything I'd experienced felt so real to me. As I journeyed on, I began to get lost in the dream. I started to wonder, what was I going to do if I was the one who lost everyone else in the end? I have to confess, I began to feel reluctant to part with everyone...

The lonely boat travels across the bitter seas, but friendship caused waves to rise in a heart that had died. Along the way, we mended each other bit by bit. What I have experienced is too beautiful for the other "me" to ever understand. The wish to enjoy the passing seasons and happiness of an ordinary life held great hidden strength, so that even though I already knew the ending, I did not give up the struggle. Because of all of you, I was driven not just by my thoughts of despair, but by my desire to protect all of you.

Be it the Great Wilderness or the mortal realm, everything must return to its original path. If you grieve over the fact that Zhu Yan did not get a chance to choose, then I will tell you that it was only a dream. If you are looking forward to embarking on a new journey with Zhao Yuanzhou's companions, then you have to wake up to hear the rest of the story. By the way, don't forget what I said – in the future, when it rains, that means I've come to accompany you. Turn the boat around and think of it as a big dream. On the other shore, someone is searching for me. A one-word spell: Wake.

The days I spent with Zhu Yan/Zhao Yuanzhou, confining myself to my shell and experiencing a life seeking an inevitable end, but I also felt the redemption in the countdown. For an actor, this was a very special creative process. The director's help, encouragement, and trust played a huge role in letting me experience this unique and meaningful role of Zhao Yuanzhou. He gave me a lot of room to interpret the one and only Zhao Yuanzhou, and with this support, I was able to accompany Zhao Yuanzhou through this journey, and finally entrust him to you, the audience, with peace of mind.

Also unforgettable were our companions who were with us every step of the way, and the process of everyone coming together in the creative process is very enjoyable, very satisfying, very worthwhile, and I will remember those scenes vividly. I will miss the Great Wilderness, the Demon Hunting Bureau, and the Kunlun Mountains... places where we left our joys and sorrows. Thanks to Wen Xiao, Xiao Zhuo-daren, Pei Sijing, Xiao Jiu, Ying Lei – because of our little demon hunting squad, Zhao Yuanzhou left knowing he was loved. Thank you to my ride-or-die Li Lun, we didn't forget our oath to protect the Great Wilderness. Thank you to my dear friend Zhao Wan'er, and Grandpa Yingzhao, who gave Yuanzhou the rare warmth of familial affection! Last but not least, I would like to thank all the crew behind the scenes for their hard work over the past few months. I have woken up from the dream, but my heart will always remember.

Signed, Zhu Yan/Zhao Yuanzhou, with remorse but no regrets

#fangs of fortune #hou minghao #zhao yuanzhou #zhu yan #it was such a beautiful and heartfelt farewell letter that I had to share it #大梦归离 #侯明昊 #赵远舟 #朱厌 #LM's translations

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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treasure in the sea — fushiguro toji.

“Okay, then, Toji….” you teased lightly, hoping to ease the heaviness of the moment. “What’s the most complicated thing in your life right now?” He laughed softly, the sound mixing with the crash of the water. “You asking me that, here of all places, doll.” he said, shaking his head as if you had walked right into some unspoken truth. You blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say. “What do you mean?” Toji met your gaze, the teasing spark in his blue–green eyes replaced by something more serious, more real. His voice was low when he spoke, just loud enough for you to hear over the ocean. “You, probably.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18, angst, fluff, first love, friends to lovers, romance, love, drama, hurt/comfort, break up, college sweethearts, smut, kissing, oral receiving, implied p-i-v sex, sexual intercourse, pining, hurt, happy ending, domestic, loss, death, grief character death, guilt, parenthood, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of pining, depiction of parenthood, depiction of guilt, depiction of grief, depiction of character death, depiction of break up, mention of parting, mention of the past, mention of character death, mention of drug overdose, mention of sexual acts and conducts, dad!toji, mom! reader, son! megumi;

WORD COUNT: 14k words

NOTE: i can't believe that toji finally won a poll and with a massive lead. i loved writing this a lot and this was so exciting to write. this was based on this japanese show called umi no hajimari and i adored the show. everything about this was just so lovely. i feel like toji in canon did love megumi and mamaguro a lot, so i wanted it to translate here no matter what. there is smut here so this is a prelude to the kinktober event that starts on october 4th, 2024. i hope you enjoy that too!!! anyway, i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS LIKE FATE LET THIS HAPPEN. In the bustling crowd of students gathering around tables covered with colorful fliers, you spotted him: Zenin Toji, standing tall and frigid, looking somewhat out of place, his eyes scanning the scene as if he wasn’t quite sure where he wanted to be.

Meanwhile, you, shorter and bright eyed, were grabbing every flier you could find, from the Art Club to Ultimate Frisbee. It was quite crazy, to see you grab them with a smile on your face over and over in a speed he couldn’t keep up with. Toji noticed your enthusiasm, probably confused by the sheer number of papers you were collecting.

You exchanged a glance, a brief nod and a small smile. But it was clear he wasn’t sure about the whole "college club" thing. He wasn’t even sure about joining school clubs in high school.

He lingered at a few tables, undecided, but eventually, you lost sight of him in the crowd as you moved on to collect more fliers and started mingling with the upperclassmen managing the booths accommodating the freshmen. Toji thought you were a dream, a moment’s notice. And yet, what he didn’t realize is that you were anything but that.

Later that evening, you attended a dinner event hosted for various clubs, a casual mixer where students could gather, chat, and get a feel for different groups on campus. To get used to college life. The room buzzed with laughter and conversation, and tables were spread with club brochures, each one trying to outshine the others to attract new members.

You had settled at a table near the center, surrounded by people engaged in light conversation, but your thoughts kept drifting. You had collected a few fliers from the clubs you were curious about, but you still felt undecided. Well, they all had mixers in the upcoming days. So, you wanted to judge them by eating at the restaurants they went to. The better the food, the better you feel about the club!

As you chatted politely with a few others, you caught a glimpse of someone familiar out of the corner of your eye. That tall boy with that obnoxious gaze. Zenin Toji, who you'd seen earlier in the day looking equally disinterested, was seated a few tables away. His broad frame slouched back casually, yet something about his presence felt charged. The rest of the room seemed to fade for a moment as he caught your eye. A slow, playful smirk curled on his lips.

Before you could react, Toji stood and approached your table. Without hesitation, he plopped down into the empty seat beside you. "Still hoarding fliers?" he teased, his voice low and amused.

You glanced at the stack of fliers you had gathered, caught off guard by his casual confidence. “I guess I am.” you said with a small smile, half-laughing at his remark, trying to shake off the flustered feeling his sudden closeness brought. His presence seemed to shift the mood, drawing your focus entirely to him, while the rest of the room hummed in the background.

Toji leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between you and the fliers, clearly finding humor in your indecision. “Any standouts, or are you just collecting paper at this point?”

The playful banter had a magnetic pull, and despite not knowing much about him, you found yourself leaning into the conversation.

You shifted in your seat, the weight of his presence drawing you in despite the crowded room. “A little of both, I think.” you replied with a smirk, trying to match his easygoing attitude. You glanced at the fliers in your hand, suddenly self-conscious. “I’ve narrowed it down to a few, but… haven’t quite committed.”

Toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Commitment issues, huh?”

You shot him a playful glare. “Maybe I just like to weigh my options. I mean, the better the food, the better the shot.”

His smirk widened, and he leaned in slightly, his arm resting on the back of your chair. “Or maybe you’re overthinking it.” he said, his voice dipping lower, more personal. “Sometimes it’s better to just pick something and see what happens.”

The sudden shift in his tone sent a ripple of warmth through you, his casual confidence making it hard to resist the pull of the conversation. He didn’t seem like the type to overthink anything, which was probably why he intrigued you so much. Toji was all instinct and ease, a stark contrast to your careful, measured approach to things.

“Is that what you did?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Just pick a club and see where it takes you?”

Toji glanced around the room, as if he hadn’t really considered joining anything until now. “I haven’t picked anything yet,” he admitted, leaning back again, his arm still casually draped behind you. “Not sure if I will.”

You tilted your head, curiosity getting the better of you. “So why are you here then?”

He shrugged, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe I was waiting to see what you’d pick.”

The comment caught you off guard, and you felt a faint blush rise to your cheeks. His teasing was effortless, and it disarmed you more than you cared to admit. “Oh, so now I’m the deciding factor?” you asked, trying to deflect with humor, but your heart skipped a beat at the playful challenge in his words.

“Looks like it.” he replied smoothly, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. There was something unspoken in the air between you, an electric undercurrent that neither of you acknowledged but both clearly felt. Toji’s laid-back demeanor only heightened the tension, making it hard to look away from him.

Before you could respond, the conversation around the table picked up, a few people asking you about the clubs you’d been considering. You answered politely, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Toji, who remained seated comfortably beside you, like he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself more and more aware of his presence—the way he occasionally leaned in to comment on something, his quiet observations that made you laugh, the subtle glances he threw your way. There was an ease to his company that surprised you, like you’d known him longer than just this fleeting encounter.

Eventually, the mixer began winding down, and people started to gather their things, heading out in groups or saying goodbyes. Toji stretched lazily beside you, his smirk still lingering.

“So, have you made up your mind yet?” he asked, glancing at the fliers one last time.

You held them up, looking between him and the colorful pages. “Maybe I’ll just join the one you do.”

Toji raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Now you’re the one following me?”

You shrugged, playing it off, but there was a spark of genuine interest behind your words. “Maybe I just want to see what happens.”

For a second, he looked at you like he was trying to figure you out, then his smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Guess we’ll both find out, then…doll.” he said, standing up and offering you a hand.

You took it, feeling the warmth of his grip, and as you stood beside him, the energy between you shifted slightly. It wasn’t just playful teasing anymore—there was something real in the air, an unspoken understanding that this chance encounter might be the start of something neither of you had planned.

You stood there for a moment, hand still in his, feeling the weight of the moment linger between you both. Toji's grip was warm, firm but casual, and even as he let go, the imprint of that brief touch stayed with you. He glanced around the room, as if assessing how much time was left before the evening fully wrapped up, then turned back to you with a raised eyebrow.

“So…..” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Since you’re so indecisive about clubs, maybe we should keep in touch. In case you need more advice.”

You caught the playful glint in his eye, but there was an undercurrent of something genuine there too. Without really thinking it through, you reached for your phone. “Yeah, advice. That’s what I need, hm?” you joked, handing him your phone with a smirk.

Toji took it without hesitation, his fingers moving quickly as he typed in his number. He handed it back to you, and you glanced down to see his contact saved simply as Toji. No last name, just that. There was something almost intimate about the simplicity of it. He shot you a lopsided grin.

“Now you can bug me about which club to join, doll.” he teased, but his tone was soft, almost like he was saying more than his words let on.

You saved your number in his phone in return, noticing how natural it felt to exchange numbers with him, like this wasn’t the first time you’d done this. Maybe it was the easy way he carried himself, or the way his smirk softened when he looked at you, but it felt… effortless. You weren’t sure what that meant yet, but you liked it.

As you handed back his phone, you found yourself lingering, caught in the moment between what this was and what it could become. “I’ll hold you to that, you know. The advice.” you said lightly, breaking the tension but not quite dispelling it. Your gaze lingered towards him for a little too long. “You better answer, okay?”

Toji chuckled, his eyes glancing over your face like he was committing it to memory. “Why wouldn’t I?” he snickers back at you. “That means I’ll be hearing from you soon.”

The way he said it wasn’t a question—it was a certainty. Something about the confidence in his words sent a ripple through you. You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe sooner than you think.”

He laughed quietly, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth. “I’ll keep my phone close, then.”

Just as the room started to clear out, Toji took a small step closer, his voice lowering slightly. “See you around… and don’t overthink it. I’ve got a feeling you’re not as indecisive as you make yourself out to be.”

There was something almost intimate in the way he said it, like he saw through your front and into something deeper. Before you could reply, Toji gave you one last smirk, a teasing glance, then turned and walked toward the door, disappearing into the flow of people heading out.

You stood there for a moment, watching him go, your phone still in hand, his number glowing on the screen. The mixer’s noise buzzed in the background, but your mind was elsewhere, still caught on the feeling of that exchange—light and playful on the surface, but weighted with possibility underneath.

As you finally made your way to the exit, you found yourself thinking back on his words, the certainty in them. Maybe you weren’t as undecided as you thought. Or maybe Toji was the push you didn’t realize you needed.

Later, as you stepped into the cool evening air, your phone buzzed in your hand. A message flashed on the screen.

Toji: Already overthinking things?

You smiled to yourself, feeling the warmth of anticipation in your chest. Maybe this was the start of something, after all.

EVERYTHING QUICKLY STARTED FROM THERE. From that night, your friendship with Zenin Toji developed naturally, like you’d always known each other. You quickly fell into a rhythm of hanging out at various club events together, even though Zenin Toji never quite settled on joining any one group.

He showed up with his usual laid-back grin, fliers still folded in his pocket, but it didn’t matter. The bond you formed over your shared indecision—and the string of free dinners at the events—was enough to keep you together. It was easy, lighthearted, the way you could sit with him at these gatherings and slip into conversation like you were old friends.

Toji was an engineering major, which surprised you at first, given his carefree attitude and lack of outward focus. He rarely talked about school, yet somehow, you could picture him excelling in that structured world of machines, calculations, and practical problems. In contrast, you were a classical music major, your world filled with compositions, performances, and delicate precision. It seemed like a strange match on the surface, but somehow, the two of you worked.

The more time you spent together, the more you realized that Toji had a knack for grounding you in ways you didn’t expect. When you’d get lost in your head, agonizing over pieces of music or second-guessing your choices, Toji had a way of cutting through the noise with his straightforward advice. “Don’t think so hard, doll.” he’d say, almost like it was the simplest thing in the world. And sometimes, it was.

Weeks turned into months, and your connection with him deepened. You found yourself spending more time outside of the club events, drawn together by your shared love for adventure. It became almost a tradition between the two of you.

The spontaneous outings where neither of you planned ahead, just picking up and going somewhere on a whim. Toji had this effortless energy about him that made you want to say yes to everything, even things you wouldn’t normally do. There was something freeing about being around him, like he gave you permission to let go of the structure you were so used to.

One of his favorite places to take you was the sea. You weren’t sure how it had come up the first time, but maybe during a casual conversation, or maybe you had mentioned it while reminiscing about the littlest of things, from your childhood memories to what shape of the cloud you think you see.

But once Toji knew you had a deep connection to the ocean, he made a point of driving you there whenever he could. There was a stretch of coastline a couple of hours away, not too far but far enough to feel like an escape from the routine of classes and rehearsals.

The first time he took you, you had been stressed over an upcoming recital, feeling the weight of expectation pressing down on you. Toji had sensed it, of course, and in his usual no-nonsense way, he simply said, “Let’s go.”

The drive was quiet at first, filled with the sound of the engine and the open road. But as the scenery changed from city streets to winding coastal roads, you felt yourself relax, your worries melting away in the face of the endless horizon. When you finally arrived, the sea stretched out before you like an open invitation, the salty air filling your lungs and the rhythmic crashing of the waves soothing something deep inside you.

It was on that shore that you realized how much Toji meant to you. He didn’t say much, didn’t need to. He just stood there beside you, hands in his pockets, letting you have the space to breathe. His presence was steady, grounding, like the ocean itself—a constant in your life that you hadn’t known you needed.

Over the months, those trips became your refuge. Whenever things get overwhelming; whether it was school, life, or the inevitable chaos that comes with growing up—Toji would drop whatever he was doing at the time and drive you to the sea. You’d spend hours walking along the beach, talking about everything and nothing.

Sometimes you’d sit in silence, both of you content just to be there, feeling the wind on your faces and the cool sand beneath your feet. It was sometimes better, enjoying each other’s company. Other times, you’d talk late into the night, sharing stories from your childhoods, dreams for the future, and even the occasional fear that lingered in the back of your mind.

For Toji, the sea seemed to bring out a different side of him—a quieter, more reflective side. It was during these trips that he’d let his guard down, offering glimpses into his life beyond the cool, carefree persona he usually wore.

You learned that he’d grown up near the ocean, that it had been his escape as a kid, a place where he could forget the troubles waiting for him at home. He never went into too much detail, but you could hear it in his voice—the weight of something unspoken, a part of him that he wasn’t quite ready to share yet.

For you, the sea was a place of peace. It reminded you of childhood summers spent by the shore, of simpler times when the only thing that mattered was the sound of the waves and the feeling of sand between your toes. Being there with Toji brought back that sense of calm, of being anchored in the present, and you found yourself growing more and more attached to those moments together.

Your friendship was effortless, but there was something else growing between you, something that neither of you had acknowledged out loud yet. It lingered in the spaces between your conversations, in the way Toji would glance at you when you weren’t looking, or the way your heart would skip a beat when his hand brushed against yours as you walked along the shore. It wasn’t just friendship anymore—it was something deeper, something that made your time together feel heavier, more significant.

But for now, you didn’t push it. You let things unfold as they would, trusting that whatever was happening between you and Toji would make itself known in time. And until then, you were content to keep taking those spontaneous trips to the sea, finding peace in each other’s company, knowing that somehow, no matter where you were, you always found your way back to him.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the water as you and Toji waded into the sea. The cool waves lapped at your ankles, sending shivers up your spine as you walked further in, side by side. The gentle roar of the ocean filled the space between you, and for a while, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the serenity of the moment.

The sea had become your shared escape, a place where words weren’t always needed but somehow always found their way into the quiet moments. Toji was waist-deep now, his eyes fixed on the horizon, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“You always get this serious when we’re out here, you know?” you said, splashing a bit of water in his direction, hoping to break the quiet spell. “What are you thinking about?”

He glanced over at you, dodging the splash with ease. “The ocean does that to me, doll.” he admitted. “Makes you feel small, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “Yeah, but in a good way. Like nothing else matters out here.”

Toji tilted his head slightly, considering your words. His usual laid-back attitude softened, replaced by that contemplative side he only seemed to show when you were near the water. “Maybe that’s why I keep bringing you here, doll.” he said, his voice quieter now, almost drowned out by the sound of the waves. “Keeps things simple.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the sun’s fading rays. “You do like things simple, don’t you?”

Toji gave a half-shrug, the corner of his mouth quivering. “Not everything, doll. I thought you knew that.”

There was a pause, and his words hung in the air between you. The two of you had been dancing around something for months now, that unspoken connection that neither of you had fully acknowledged. The tension between friendship and something more had always been there, simmering beneath the surface like the waves that rolled in at your feet.

“Okay, then, Toji….” you teased lightly, hoping to ease the heaviness of the moment. “What’s the most complicated thing in your life right now?”

He laughed softly, the sound mixing with the crash of the water. “You asking me that, here of all places, doll.” he said, shaking his head as if you had walked right into some unspoken truth.

You blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say. “What do you mean?”

Toji met your gaze, the teasing spark in his blue–green eyes replaced by something more serious, more real. His voice was low when he spoke, just loud enough for you to hear over the ocean. “You, probably.”

Your breath caught for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t joking, not this time. There was no playful smirk, no light teasing. He was being honest in that way only Toji could be—blunt, to the point, but with a tenderness you weren’t used to seeing from him.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the depth of the water around you, the way it mirrored the depth of what was happening between you two. “I didn’t think I was that complicated.” you managed to say, your voice soft but laced with a nervous laugh.

Toji took a step closer, the water swirling around his waist, but the space between you felt even more significant. “You’re not. You never have been.” he said. “But what I feel for you? That’s the complicated part.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and your heart started pounding in your chest. The two of you had spent months building this connection, this unspoken bond, and now—here, in the middle of the sea, surrounded by nothing but water and the fading light of the evening—he was finally saying it out loud.

“I wasn’t sure in the beginning, doll.” Toji continued, his voice still low, careful, like he was treading new ground. “At first, I thought it was just us hanging out, being friends. But then… I don’t know. The more time I spent with you, the harder it got to keep things simple. And it all just….it just stopped becoming clear.”

You felt the pull between you growing stronger, the unspoken tension finally surfacing. It had been there all along, in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, in the way his casual touches lingered just a little too long. You could feel your heart beating out your chest, your eyes tense as you looked at him.

“Toji….” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it too.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but the relief that washed over his face was unmistakable. It was as though the tension disappeared as his shoulders dropped. The waves lapped gently at your legs, the soft push and pull mirroring the emotions between you. Toji stepped even closer, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his presence despite the cool water surrounding you both.

“I don’t do complicated things, doll.” he said, his bright beautiful eyes locking onto yours.“but I’m willing to try if it’s with you.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you like a wave. Toji, the man who seemed so laid-back and sure of himself, was standing here, opening up in a way you hadn’t expected. He was offering you something real, something he didn’t give easily.

You reached out, letting your hand find his beneath the water, your fingers intertwining with his. “I don’t need simple.” you said, smiling softly. “Well, not without you. I just…. need you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, the only sound the steady crash of the waves, the only feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. Toji’s gaze softened, and in that moment, it felt like something between you had finally clicked into place. Something unspoken, something that had always been there, was now laid bare between you.

He smiled then, that familiar, easy grin, but this time, it was softer, more genuine. “Guess that settles it, huh?”

You laughed, feeling the tension finally break, replaced by a sense of peace that only the sea and Toji—could give you. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

And as the two of you stood there, hand in hand, the sun setting behind you, the waves rolling gently at your feet, it felt like the beginning of something new—something neither of you could predict but both of you were ready to dive into together.

IT WAS LIKE FLOATING IN THE CLOUDS, EVERYTHING AFTER THAT. After that day at the sea, things between you and Toji shifted into something deeper. You started dating officially, but it wasn’t much different from before, just more intentional. You went everywhere together—spontaneous weekend trips, late-night diner runs, quiet evenings at your place with takeout and music playing in the background.

He made you laugh like no one else could, and you found yourself feeling lighter in his presence. No one could make you feel this happy. Not anyone. Just your Toji. After that day at the sea, everything changed between you and Toji, but in the most natural way.

The shift wasn’t abrupt—it was like everything you both had been dancing around finally clicked into place. You were officially together now, but it didn’t feel that different from before, except for the fact that everything seemed more deliberate, more real.

Dating Toji was a blend of excitement and comfort. You found yourselves constantly making spontaneous decisions, from late-night drives to nowhere, to impromptu weekend getaways. He had this knack for making every moment feel like an adventure, even if all you were doing was stopping by a hole-in-the-wall diner at 2 AM for greasy burgers and fries. Somehow, the world felt bigger with him, like there was always something new to discover as long as he was by your side.

The quiet moments became just as meaningful. You’d sit together at your apartment, the dim glow of the city outside your windows, takeout containers spread across the coffee table as some old-school vinyl hummed softly in the background. Toji wasn’t one for endless conversation, but when he did speak, it was either to crack a joke that left you laughing uncontrollably or to say something so unexpectedly sincere that it left you speechless.

And the way he looked at you, with those sharp eyes softened just for you, made your heart race in a way no one else ever could. He had this rough exterior, intimidating to most, but with you, he was different—gentler in a way that seemed reserved for you alone. There were times when he’d pull you close without a word, his arms wrapped around you, as if to remind you that he wasn’t going anywhere, that you were his, and he was yours.

You never realized how easy happiness could feel until him. Sure, life had its ups and downs, but with Toji, the weight of the world seemed lighter. He made you laugh like no one else ever could, often in the simplest, silliest ways. Whether it was his dry humor or those stupid pranks he'd pull just to see you roll your eyes—everything about him had the power to brighten your day.

And then there were the quieter realizations, the ones that snuck up on you when you least expected it. Like when you’d catch him glancing at you from across the room, and there was something so tender in his gaze that it almost took your breath away. Or when he’d grab your hand in a crowded place, lacing his fingers through yours as if it were second nature, making you feel like the safest person in the world.

The truth was, no one made you feel the way Toji did. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but neither were you, and that was what made it work. There was no pretense with him, no need to hide or hold back. He saw you for who you were, accepted you, and made you feel like you were more than enough. In his presence, you felt lighter, freer, like everything was easier when you were together.

No one else could do that. Not anyone. Just your Toji.

He was your person, your unexpected joy, and as things deepened between you, you realized that he had become so much more than just a part of your life. He was your home.

He was at your place again after finals. It was like a magnetic pull; he couldn’t stay away from you, even after the grueling physical test that left him spent and drenched in sweat. Yet, here he was—unbothered by his disheveled state. His body craved yours, and you could sense that same hunger in yourself. You had been waiting, yearning to close the distance, to touch him, taste him—everything.

As your boyfriend’s hand tenderly wrapped around your wrist, he tried with all his might to stop you. He had that surprised look on his face, almost as though he’d been caught off guard. You could feel your boyfriend's grip firm but almost too careful, almost too cautious. You looked at him with those bright doe eyes.

“Doll, what are you doing? I’m supposed to be the one to go down on you—”

You didn’t let him finish at all, leaning towards him and kissing him passionately. You smiled against the way he kissed you back, his palm touching your cheek as the gravitational pull drew you both closer, deeper and deeper into the kiss. You parted your lips from him and took a moment to pull his hand away from your wrist. It was strong but tenderly gentle. You shove it away. You slowly knelt in front of him.

“Let me do this first. Please.”

Toji could feel his breath hitch deeply. All he could feel at that moment was the way his knees trembled. He was sure that he was feeling it. It was too obvious. Everything about this was giving away the struggle between resistance and desire.

“Here? In your kitchen, doll?” His voice cracked slightly, weary hesitance betrayed by the heat that cut through the reverberation of words. His blue–green eyes darted down to where you were, your hardened resolve so clear, and then back to him with a wanton glance at the sweat on his bright tan skin. “You can’t be serious, I have to cook our dinner now—”

“Please. Now.”

“Now?” Toji's question was more like a whisper, a mix of confusion and longing. It was as though he wasn’t sure if he should stop you or let you take him, right there, without a second thought. It was as though he was having a hard time figuring it out. “I can’t…I can’t just have you do this in the kitchen. It’s not even clean….”

His body told you all you needed to know. He wanted this as much as you did. You didn't answer him with words. Instead, you held his gaze, your intensity silencing the doubt that lingered in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, your fingers trailed along his thigh, firm but teasing. His breath hitched again, sharper this time, and his hand flexed at his side as if unsure whether to stop you or let you take full control.

"Just let me, baby. Please, Toji." you whispered, your voice low and thick with need. It was a command, but more than that, a plea. You needed this—needed him.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and you watched his resolve melt away. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath ragged, as though he was on the edge of a precipice, uncertain whether to fall or hold back. But when his hand, the one he'd tried to use to still you earlier, moved to your head, fingers tangling softly in your hair, you knew his decision.

"You’re—" He tried to speak, but the words failed him. Whatever argument or hesitation he had left was swallowed by the way his body responded to your touch. The tension in him snapped like a taut string, and all that remained was the heat between you.

You leaned closer, lips ghosting over his skin, the salt of his sweat mixing with the warmth radiating from him. Every inch of him felt alive under your hands, and you could feel his pulse racing, mirroring your own urgency.

His grip in your hair tightened ever so slightly, and the sound that escaped him was one of surrender. "Fine…fine." he breathed out, a soft growl that sent a shiver down your spine. "Whatever you want… just—"

His words faltered again, but it didn’t matter. You knew exactly what he meant. Your fingers slid down his abdomen, feeling the tension ripple beneath his skin as you lowered yourself further. His muscles twitch involuntarily under your touch, betraying his anticipation despite his earlier hesitation. You could hear his breath hitch again, faster this time, his hand still tangled in your hair, half-pulling, half-guiding you as though he couldn’t decide whether to hold back or let go.

You knew, though. He wanted this as badly as you did, even if his mind had yet to catch up to his body’s desires.

You pressed a kiss just above the waistband of his pants, slow and deliberate, feeling him tense beneath your lips. His hips jerked slightly, a reaction he couldn’t contain, and you smiled to yourself at the effect you were having on him. Your fingers toyed with the waistband, teasing him, drawing out the moment just a bit longer.

“Stop teasing…” he muttered, voice breathless and strained. His grip in your hair tightened for emphasis, but it lacked the conviction to pull you away. He was already lost in this, even if he tried to pretend otherwise.

You finally obliged, tugging down his pants, the fabric sliding against his skin, revealing him fully. His body shuddered at the sudden exposure, and a soft, involuntary groan escaped his lips as the cool air met his flushed skin.

You didn’t waste time after that, leaning in with purpose, your tongue flicking out to taste him. The groan that followed was deeper, rawer, his hand now gripping your hair tightly, holding on as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His legs trembled beneath your touch, and his breath came in ragged gasps as you moved, your mouth working him over with a slow, deliberate pace.

Every sound that escaped him, every twitch of his body, spurred you on, and you could feel him losing control. His hips buckled forward, desperate for more, and his other hand clutched the edge of the sofa behind him, knuckling white from the strain.

“Fuck.” he breathed, voice hoarse and barely audible, his entire body tense with the pleasure building inside him. “Don’t stop… just like that…”

You could feel him unraveling, every touch, every flick of your tongue driving him closer to the edge. And you were glad for it. You were giving it to him. You were the cause of his pleasure. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and his body trembled under your ministrations.

He was close, and you knew it, but you kept going, pushing him further, not giving him a moment to recover or catch his breath. His head fell back, his chest heaving as he surrendered completely to the sensations coursing through him.

And then, with a final, ragged groan, he came undone beneath you, his entire body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over him. His grip on your hair loosened, and he slumped back against the sofa, utterly spent, chest rising and falling heavily.

You pulled back slowly, watching as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes half-lidded, glazed over with satisfaction. His hand slid weakly from your hair, his body still trembling in the aftershocks of his release.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the sound of his heavy breathing. Then, finally, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as though in disbelief at what had just happened.

“God.” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You really don’t play fair, do you?”

You smiled, wiping your lips as you leaned back on your heels. “I told you to let me do this.”

He laughed again, softer this time, eyes meeting yours with a mix of exhaustion and adoration. “Yeah, doll.” he whispered, voice still breathless. “You did.”

As the air settled between you, his breathing evened out, and he leaned forward. Before you could react, Toji’s strong hand cupped your face, pulling you in for a strong, passionate kiss. It was sudden, raw, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of intensity that took your breath away.

His mouth was warm and demanding, and the taste of his. It was making him feel hotter. And it made you hotter that the taste of his juice was being shared between the two of you. It was too good, the heat, salty taste and something uniquely his—flooded your senses.

You felt a shiver race down your spine as his tongue brushed against your lips, coaxing them apart. Without thinking, you melted into him, letting him take the lead. The way his hand moved from your face to your neck, fingers pressing just enough to make you feel his power, sent your mind spinning. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, the kiss growing more fervent with each passing second.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for air, his dark, sharp eyes locked onto yours. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, and there was something dangerous in his expression—something that made your heart race faster than before.

“My turn, doll.” Toji rasped, voice low and gravelly, dripping with intent. His thumb traced your bottom lip, as though marking the spot where his mouth had just been. "You didn’t think I’d just let you have all the fun, did you?"

Before you could respond, his hands were on you, rough but purposeful, guiding you up and onto the couch. His grip was firm as he pressed you down, positioning himself between your legs, eyes dark with hunger. He wasted no time—there was no hesitation in his movements, only a primal desire to return everything you’d given him moments ago.

Toji’s lips found your neck, trailing hot kisses down to your collarbone. Each kiss, each brush of his lips against your skin sent electric jolts through your body, heightening your senses. He was taking his time now, savoring each second as he moved lower, his breath hot against your chest.

He paused briefly, looking up at you, that same wicked smile playing on his lips. "Relax. You’re gonna want to enjoy this."

With that, he moved lower, and your breath caught in your throat as his mouth descended. The sensation was immediate, overwhelming. His tongue was slow and deliberate, moving with the kind of precision that had you gripping the edge of the couch within seconds. Your back arched involuntarily, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"That’s it." he murmured, the vibrations of his voice against your skin making you tremble. "Let me take care of you."

Toji’s pace was unhurried, savoring the way your body responded to him, but there was a ferocity behind his touch that let you know he wasn’t going to stop until you were completely undone. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, his strength evident in every subtle movement.

Each flick of his tongue, each stroke of his lips sent you spiraling, and soon you were lost in the sensation. Your hands found his hair, fingers gripping tightly as you struggled to stay grounded, but it was impossible. Toji was relentless, expertly pushing you further and further, until you were right on the edge, your entire body trembling under his touch.

"Toji," you gasped, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity. "I—"

But he didn’t let you finish. Instead, he quickened his pace, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pushed you over that edge. The sensation hit you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and shaking beneath him.

For a moment, the world went hazy. All you could hear was your own heartbeat, loud and fast in your ears, and the sound of Toji’s deep, steady breathing as he slowly pulled away.

When your vision cleared, he was leaning over you, eyes filled with satisfaction. His lips curled into a familiar smirk as he wiped his mouth, clearly proud of the way he had left you undone. "Told you it was my turn." he teased, his voice smug, but the warmth in his gaze softened the edge.

You couldn’t help but laugh, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you managed to say, voice hoarse. "I think you made your point."

Toji leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, this time slower, more intimate. "Good." he whispered against your mouth. "Because I’m not done with you yet."

EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP, IT WASN’T PERFECT. And you always knew that, even in the best of moments. There were times when Zenin Toji’s recklessness frustrated you or when his silence left too much unsaid. But none of that ever seemed to matter in the grand scheme of things.

What mattered was that it was real, and despite the flaws, both of you were genuinely happy. Toji had a way of making life feel effortless, as though the weight of the world didn’t matter when you were with him. His presence made everything feel simple, even when it wasn’t.

For a while, you let yourself believe in that simplicity. You believed that the two of you could live in this uncomplicated, happy bubble forever, like nothing could shake the foundation you’d built together. Every laugh, every stolen glance, every spontaneous trip made it easy to forget about the uncertainties that loomed in the background. With Toji, life felt lighter, almost as if the two of you existed in a world separate from everyone else’s struggles and complications.

But then something shifted. It was subtle at first, a creeping unease you couldn’t quite place. Until one day, your world came crashing into focus. You found out you were pregnant.

The moment the test came back positive, the air seemed to leave the room. You sat in the bathroom, staring at the two lines on the test, your mind racing but stuck at the same time. Hours seemed to pass, or maybe just minutes. Time had no meaning at that moment. All you could focus on was the weight of the news in your hands and the way everything suddenly felt heavier, more real, more terrifying than you’d ever imagined.

How could this have happened? Sure, you and Toji had been careless at times, but it never seemed like a real possibility….until now. And now, you were faced with a reality you hadn’t prepared for, a future that felt overwhelmingly uncertain.

You were scared. Not just for yourself, but for Toji too. You had no idea how he’d react, and that terrified you even more. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who liked to plan or think too far ahead. He thrived on spontaneity, on living in the moment, and the idea of something as permanent and life-altering as a baby… you weren’t sure how he’d handle it.

Would he be angry? Dismissive? Or worse—indifferent?

The thought of having that conversation made you feel physically ill. You had played out the scenario a hundred times in your head. Maybe he’d shrug it off like it was no big deal, or maybe he’d walk out without a second thought. Or maybe he’d surprise you, like he had so many times before, and show a side of himself you hadn’t expected. The uncertainty gnawed at you, filling your chest with a kind of dread you hadn’t experienced before.

You spent the next few days trying to find the right moment, the right words, but nothing ever seemed good enough. Each time you looked at him, your throat tightened. He’d catch your gaze, and you’d quickly look away, afraid that he’d somehow see the truth written all over your face before you were ready to say it out loud.

But it was inevitable. You couldn’t hide it forever, and sooner or later, you’d have to face what this meant for both of you. Would it change everything? Could your relationship survive something so monumental? You didn’t know. The only thing you knew for sure was that your world had already shifted, and there was no going back.

That evening, when he came over to your apartment, you were sitting on the couch, your hands clasped together, trying to gather the courage to tell him. Toji sat beside you, noticing your tense posture immediately.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing in your chest. “Toji, I need to tell you something.”

His expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.” The words fell from your lips like stones, sinking into the quiet space between you. You watched his face closely, trying to read his reaction, but it was hard to tell what he was feeling at first. He blinked, his mouth slightly open, as though trying to process the information.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his mind working behind his eyes. You could see the shock there, the confusion, the disbelief. His silence made your heart pound even harder.

“Toji?” you prompted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He finally exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Are you… sure?”

“Yeah. Of course I am.” you nodded, your throat tightening. “I took a test.”

Another silence stretched between you, the weight of the situation settling in the room. Toji leaned back slightly, his face unreadable as he stared at the floor, his brows furrowed in thought. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t joy either. It was something heavier, something more complicated.

“I—” he started, then stopped, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

The pit in your stomach deepened. You had known this would be hard, but seeing him so stunned, so lost, was more painful than you had anticipated.

“Toji, listen…. I just… I already planned this out and I thought about it.” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t want to make this hard on you.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes sharp, questioning.

“What are you saying?” he asked, his voice low.

You took another breath, already feeling the tears welling up behind your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it. Calmly. And…honestly.… I’ve decided I’m going to get an abortion.”

His blue–green eyes widened slightly, and for the first time since you’d told him, you saw a flicker of something raw, something close to fear in his expression.

“An abortion?” he repeated, his voice sounding hollow.

“Yeah, I am.” you nodded, trying to stay composed. “I don’t think we’re ready for this, Toji. I don’t want to complicate your life any more than it needs to be. With your family being rough and everything, I just…I don’t want this to add to your life. And I don’t want it to be harder on us, I mean we’re in college with nothing.”

He was quiet for a long moment, but the tension in his body was palpable. He was thinking, processing, trying to make sense of everything. When he finally spoke again, his voice was firm, but there was something broken underneath it.

“Are you… doing this for me?” he asked, his jaw clenched. “Because if you are, don’t.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden force in his words. “Toji, listen… I’m just trying to make it easier for you—”

“No, no.” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t make that decision because of me. If you don’t want this, fine. But don’t do it because you think I can’t handle it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as the conversation turned heavier than you had anticipated. Toji had never been the type to be openly vulnerable, but there was something in his eyes now, something deeper than shock. It was fear. Not of the pregnancy itself, but of you taking that choice away from him.

“I’m not. I promise, I’m…” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “It’s not just about you, Toji. It’s about me too. We’re not ready for this—”

“And what if we are?” he cut you off again, his voice strained. “What if we could be?”

You shook your head, tears finally slipping from your eyes. “It’s too much. We’re not even finished with school. I don’t want to mess up your life.”

Toji reached out, his hand gripping your arm, not hard, but firm enough to make you stop. “You think this would mess up my life?” he asked, his eyes searching for yours. “What about yours?”

The question hit you hard. You had been so focused on how Toji would react, on how this would change his future, that you hadn’t fully considered what this meant for you. It wasn’t just his life that would change—it was yours too. And the truth was, you were terrified of that change.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whispered, finally letting the fear show in your voice.

Toji’s expression softened, and for the first time since the conversation started, he pulled you into his arms. His grip was strong, steady, like he was trying to anchor you in the chaos of your own emotions.

“We don’t have to decide everything right now, doll.” he said softly, his voice close to your ear. “But don’t do this just because you think it’s the right thing for me.”

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest, letting the weight of his words sink in. You didn’t know what the future held, or what the right decision was. All you knew was that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t facing this alone.

IT WAS A FEW WEEKS LATER. Zenin Toji sat in the crowded cafeteria, only half-aware of the conversation around him. The buzz of his classmates discussing internships, upcoming exams, and their futures faded into the background as he absentmindedly poked at his food.

His thoughts were elsewhere, drifting between the monotony of the day and the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It had been a few days since he last saw you, but with finals and the usual chaos of student life, it wasn’t unusual. He figured you were busy, like everyone else.

But then a group of your friends approached. Their faces were drawn with concern, their eyes darting nervously around the room as they stopped in front of him. Toji barely registered their presence at first, his mind still elsewhere, until one of them spoke up.

“Toji, hey.” her voice was soft but edged with worry. “Have you seen her?”

He frowned, snapping back to the present. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“Her. You know…” she repeated, her words hitting a little harder this time. “Your girlfriend. She’s not in her dorm, and we haven’t seen her around campus. She dropped out, Toji. The professors said she withdrew from all her classes.”

The fork in his hand froze mid-air, his breath hitching as the words landed with a gut-wrenching thud. Dropped out? You? No. That couldn’t be right. You hadn’t mentioned anything about dropping out or even considering it. The last time you spoke, everything seemed normal—at least as normal as it had been lately. But this? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like you to just disappear, especially not without saying anything to him.

Toji’s chest tightened, panic swelling beneath the surface, though he tried to mask it with his usual composed demeanor. “What?” he asked, his voice sharper than intended, laced with disbelief. “What do you mean she dropped out?”

“I don’t know..” one of your friends replied, her own uncertainty mirroring his. “She’s just… gone. We checked everywhere—her dorm, the library, even the places she liked to hang out. She’s not answering her phone. And when we talked to the professors, they confirmed it. She withdrew from all her classes yesterday.”

His heart pounded in his chest, a sinking feeling spreading through him. Gone. The word echoed in his mind, heavy and suffocating. None of this made any sense. He thought back to the last few times you were together, searching for any clue, any sign that you were planning something like this. But nothing stood out. You had been a little distant lately, maybe, but you always brushed it off as stress from school.

The thought of you leaving without saying a word, of just vanishing from his life like that, was like a punch to the gut. Toji wasn’t used to feeling powerless, but right now, that’s exactly what he felt. He had no control, no idea what was going on, and the uncertainty of it all gnawed at him like a vicious storm.

“Did she… did she say anything to any of you?” he asked, his voice rougher now, desperate for some kind of explanation. “Anything about why she’d do this?”

Your friends exchanged uncertain glances, but none of them had answers. One of them finally spoke, shaking her head. “No, she didn’t say anything. She’s been quiet lately, but we didn’t think she was planning to leave like this.”

Quiet. Distant. It all started to add up, piece by piece. You had been pulling away, hadn’t you? It was subtle, barely noticeable at first, but now, in hindsight, it seemed so clear. Toji’s mind raced with possibilities—was this about the pregnancy?

Did you feel like you couldn’t tell him? Did you think he wouldn’t want this? His stomach twisted at the thought. He wasn’t the best at dealing with emotions, but if you had come to him, if you had just told him… he would’ve figured it out with you.

He pushed away from the table, standing up abruptly, his heart racing. “I’m going to find her.”

“Toji—” one of your friends began, but he was already moving, his mind set. He had to find you, had to understand what had driven you to this decision. Whatever was going on, he needed answers—needed to hear it from you.

Because the idea of losing you, of you walking out of his life without even a word, was something he wasn’t prepared to face.

Without a second thought, Toji pushed his chair back, standing up abruptly. His classmates glanced at him, startled, but he barely registered their reactions. His phone was already in his hand, and he started dialing your number as he made his way out of the cafeteria, his steps quick and purposeful.

The ringing on the other end felt like it lasted forever. His heart pounded harder with each unanswered ring, his mind racing with questions. Why hadn’t you told him? Why had you left?

Finally, you picked up.

“Toji.” you said quietly, your voice strained, almost like you had been expecting this call but had dreaded answering it.

“Where the hell are you?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the frustration and panic out of his voice. “Your friends came up to me. They said you dropped out. What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a heavy silence on the other end, before you finally answered.

“I left.” you said softly.

“What do you mean you left?” His voice was sharper now, disbelief and anger mixing together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t.” you replied, your tone distant, guarded.

“Couldn’t?” Toji repeated, his frustration growing. “You just decided to leave without saying anything? That’s it? That’s your explanation?”

You were quiet for a moment, and Toji could hear the sound of your breathing on the other end. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way toward your dorm, his pace quickening. He could feel it, something’s not right. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like this.

“I just… I can’t do this anymore, Toji.” you finally said, your voice cracking, though you were trying hard to keep it steady.

His chest tightened at your words. “What are you talking about? Can’t do what? We’re supposed to figure this out together!”

“I don’t want to make things harder for you.” you said, your voice soft and strained. “I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

Toji stopped in his tracks, standing just outside your dorm. His hand was already on the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to knock. “Trapped?” His voice was low now, disbelief coating every word. “You think I feel trapped?”

“You deserve more than this, Toji.” you said, your tone hollow. “More than me. I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“To me?” His voice grew louder again, anger mixing with the hurt that was now undeniable. “You think leaving without a word, without even trying to talk to me about it, is making things easier? You think this is what I want?”

Another silence stretched between you, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“I can’t do it anymore, Toji.” you repeated, your voice more final this time. “I can’t do… us.”

Toji’s hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white as he leaned his head against the door, trying to hold back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He had never been good with feelings, never been good at expressing what was going on inside his head, but this—this was different. This was you.

“Why?” he asked, his voice raw, the hurt finally slipping through the cracks in his defenses. “Tell me why. I thought we were in this together.”

Your breath hitched on the other end of the line, and Toji knew you were trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I have to do this. I’m breaking up with you, Toji.”

His stomach dropped. He had heard the words, but they didn’t feel real. Not yet. Not when you were still on the other end of the line, not when he was standing outside your door.

“Don’t do this, doll.” he said, his voice low and pleading now. “We can figure it out. Whatever it is, we can fix it. You don’t have to run.”

But you didn’t answer. The silence on the other end grew heavier, suffocating, until it became clear what you were doing.

“You’re really doing this?” Toji asked, his voice thick with disbelief. “You’re just leaving?”

“I’m sorry, Toji.” you whispered again, and then the line went dead.

He stood there, the phone still pressed against his ear, the empty dial tone ringing in his mind. You were gone. You had left, just like that. The weight of it all hit him at once—the pregnancy, the future you both had avoided talking about, the life that had suddenly unraveled in a single moment.

For the first time in a long while, Zenin Toji felt lost.

HE BLINKED AND IT WAS THE FUTURE. Years had passed since that fateful conversation, and life had unfolded in unexpected ways for Zenin Toji. He had poured himself into his work, rising through the ranks to become a top engineer at his company. His days were filled with projects and deadlines, and while the ache of the past lingered in the back of his mind, he had learned to compartmentalize it.

He was dating someone new now, a woman who brought laughter and light into his life. They shared quiet dinners, spontaneous weekend trips, and plans for a future that felt bright and hopeful. Toji had learned to enjoy the moments, to savor the present without the weight of what could have been pulling him down.

But one afternoon, as he was wrapping up a meeting, his phone rang. The name on the screen made his stomach drop: it was one of your old friends.

He answered, his tone casual. “Hey, what’s up?”

The silence on the other end was heavy, laden with a gravity that sent a chill down his spine. “Toji… I need to talk to you. It’s about uh….her.”

The way she said your name made his heart race, an instinctual dread creeping in. “What about her?” he asked, his voice tightening. It has been years. Years since he’s heard your name. Years since that feeling of the sea wallowed its way into his heart. You. The very thought of you was spring, endless spring. “What happened?”

Another pause. “She… she passed away.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs. “What?” he managed to stammer, disbelief flooding his mind. “What do you mean, passed away?”

“She had an accident. It was sudden. I’m so sorry, Toji.”

He felt the world tilt on its axis, the room around him blurring as the shock set in. “No, no, that can’t be right.” he said, shaking his head as if the motion could change the reality. “When? How?”

“We don’t have all the details about it yet.” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “But I thought you should know. She had some friends over… and then it happened, after they all left. There’s suspicion that it was an accidental drug overdose, medication. Um, but we’re not sure if that’s true. Because…she’d tell us, if she was sick.”

The words began to sink in, but they felt surreal, detached from reality. How could this be happening? You had once been a part of his life, and now… now you were gone. The memories surged back—your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about music, the softness in your voice when you told him you were leaving.

“I… I need to go.” he said, his voice shaking. “I need to be there.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern echoing in her tone. “Toji, breathe.”

But Toji couldn’t respond. He ended the call, the weight of what he had just heard pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He stared at the wall, his thoughts racing, heart pounding. Everything he had built, the life he had created, suddenly felt meaningless in the face of this loss. All shattered. Both the past, the present and future — all at once, dying.

He stood up, feeling unsteady, as if the ground beneath him had vanished. The world outside his office window looked the same, but everything felt different—bleak, muted, and empty.

Without thinking, he grabbed his jacket and left the office, his mind a whirlpool of memories and emotions. He could hardly focus on the road as he drove, the city blurring past him. All he could think about was you—what you had meant to him, the moments they shared, the unfinished conversations that hung in the air.

When he finally arrived at the location your friend sent, everything about the scene was somber, filled with familiar faces that had once been part of your life. He made his way through the gathering, his heart heavy in his chest. He saw your friends, their faces drawn with grief, and the realization hit him like a wave: you were really gone.

Zenin Toji found a quiet corner, his back pressed against a wall, as the reality settled in. The laughter and joy he had learned to embrace felt like a betrayal now. You should have been here, sharing these moments, navigating life together, just as you once had.

As he stood there, memories flooded back—moments of joy, of connection, of love. And in that instant, he understood that he would always carry a part of you with him, a lingering ache that would never truly fade.

The world moved on around him, but Toji felt frozen in place, grappling with the loss of someone who had shaped him in ways he had never acknowledged until now. And in that moment, he knew that no matter how much time passed, he would never forget you.

Toji stood at the edge of the gathering, the atmosphere heavy with sorrow and disbelief. The small chapel was filled with familiar faces, all of them grieving the loss of you, and he felt an ache deep in his chest as he took in the scene. Your family stood near the front, your mother clutching a bouquet of flowers, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Your father stood beside her, a stoic figure trying to hold it all together.

As the service progressed, Toji’s gaze wandered, and he noticed a young boy standing close to your mother. The child couldn’t have been more than five or six, his small frame almost dwarfed by the adults around him. He had dark tousled hair and bright, green – blue eyes echoing with curiosity that seemed to scan the room, searching for something—or someone.

Toji’s heart dropped as he took a closer look. The boy had a striking resemblance to him. It was subtle but unmistakable—the shape of his face, the curve of his lips, and the way he tilted his head when he looked around. The realization hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Just then, the boy moved toward your casket, his tiny hands reaching out to touch the smooth wood. As though he wanted to stroke your face with the warmth of a thousand suns. Toji felt a surge of instinct, wanting to protect the child from this pain, but before he could react, a white-haired man stepped in. With an air of calm authority, he gently scooped the boy into his arms, pulling him away from the somber sight.

Toji’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man—Gojo Satoru, a familiar figure from your past. He was your friend in college too. Protege, in the science department. He was a chief mourner today. The very presence of him felt like a ghost, both comforting and painful. He had always known Gojo Satoru to be a charismatic enigma, with his goofy smile and unserious eyes. But now his demeanor was serious, focused on the child in his arms.

“Hey, little guy.” Gojo said softly, kneeling down to the boy's level, his voice a soothing balm against the surrounding grief. “Let’s give her some space, okay?”

The boy looked up at Gojo, confusion etched on his young face. “But I want to say goodbye to my mama.” he said, his voice small and tremulous.

Toji felt his heart clench. Who was this child? Why did he look so much like him? Was he really…?

“Let’s remember her in a different way.” Gojo suggested gently, still holding the boy close. “We can share stories about how amazing she was, okay?”

The child seemed to consider this, his brows furrowing in thought. Toji felt an urge to move closer, to find out everything he could about this boy, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away.

As Gojo began to lead the boy away from the casket, the child turned back one last time, his wide eyes filled with innocence and sorrow. “I miss her already. I miss my mama already.” he whispered, and Toji’s heart shattered at the sound of those words.

He watched as Gojo knelt down again, whispering something in the boy’s ear. Whatever it was, it made the child’s face light up with a fleeting smile, and for a moment, Toji felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this boy could carry on a part of you—your spirit, your laughter, your love.

But the reality of the situation crashed over him once more. You were gone, and this child, whom he instinctively felt a connection to, was a reminder of everything that had been lost.

Toji took a step forward, the urge to reach out to the boy overwhelming him. He had to know. “Excuse me.” he said, his voice cutting through the murmur of the gathering, his eyes locked on Gojo and the boy. “Who is he?”

Gojo looked up, surprise flickering in his gaze before a knowing look settled in. “This is your son, Toji,” he said gently. “He’s her child. Your child.”

The words hung in the air like a weight, and Toji felt the ground shift beneath him. He had a son? The realization was like a tidal wave crashing over him, overwhelming and disorienting. All the moments he had missed, the life he hadn’t known he had—everything rushed to the surface, leaving him gasping for breath.

“I didn’t know….I….” he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips. “I didn’t know I had a son…”

Gojo nodded, his expression softening. “She wanted to tell you, but things got complicated. She loved you, Toji. She always did.”

The ache in Toji’s chest deepened, a mixture of regret and longing flooding through him. He wanted to reach out to the boy, to embrace him and promise to be there, to make up for all the lost time. But he felt frozen, unsure of how to bridge this sudden chasm between them.

The boy turned to look at him, his innocent eyes searching, and in that moment, Toji knew he couldn’t turn away. He took a step forward, his heart pounding, ready to face the truth of his past and embrace the future, whatever it might hold.

Toji took a deep breath, his mind racing as he processed the weight of everything Gojo had just revealed. “Who are you, exactly? To her.” he asked, his voice steadier than he felt. “Why are you here with him?”

Gojo regarded him with a measured gaze, a mix of understanding and sympathy etched across his features. “I’m Satoru Gojo, her ex.” he began, his tone calm yet heavy with unspoken history. “We had our time together, but she broke up with me to focus on raising him—Megumi.” He paused, his expression shifting slightly, as if weighing his next words. “But… I helped out when she started to suffer from her illness. We…we also worked together.”

The revelation hit Toji like a punch to the gut. It was hard to hear that you had suffered, and he couldn’t fathom how you had faced such a struggle. You have always been so vibrant, so full of life. The image of you laughing by the sea, dreaming about the future, felt so far removed from the harsh reality of illness. How could this happen? How could you be dead? The thought churned in his stomach, leaving him feeling hollow and lost.

He felt a wave of panic and disbelief. You had been taken away from your son. From Toji. It was like that again—just when he had thought he was on the cusp of something beautiful and real, everything crumbled. You had left him once more, not by choice this time, but by fate’s cruel hand.

“Why didn’t I know?” Toji’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with frustration and sorrow. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Gojo’s eyes softened with empathy. “She wanted to protect you, Toji. You had a life too. She thought that by keeping her distance, she could spare you the pain. She didn’t want you to feel trapped by her son and her illness. It was incurable, all there could be was maintenance. So…she thought it would be better to leave before the damage was done.”

Trapped. The word stung. He had always wanted to be there for you, to share the burdens and the joys. “But I would have wanted to be a part of it, for bitter or worse.” he replied, his voice trembling. “I could have helped. I could have been there for both of you.”

Gojo nodded, understanding the turmoil in Toji’s heart. “She knew that, but she was scared—scared of what her illness would do to you and to Megumi. She wanted to give him a chance at a life free from that burden. It was a hard choice, but she thought it was the right one.”

The realization crashed over Toji like a wave. You had made that decision alone, believing it was the best thing for your son. And now, that choice has cost you your life. Anguish twisted inside him, and he felt a growing anger not towards you, but towards the circumstances that had taken you away.

How could it be fair? How could the universe allow such a beautiful spirit to slip away while leaving behind a child who would now grow up without knowing his mother?

Toji felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. The name hit him like a jolt, reverberating through him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. “Megumi.” he repeated softly, the sound wrapping around his heart like a lifeline.

It was the name you had once discussed with such warmth and hope while watching the waves crash against the shore, dreaming of what could be if you ever started a family together. The memory came flooding back—the laughter, the carefree joy of that day, and the vivid images of a future that felt so tangible then.

“Yeah, she loved that name.” Toji murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I did too.”

He struggled to hold back tears, remembering how your eyes sparkled when you spoke about having a family, the way you imagined little Megumi running along the beach, chasing after waves with unabashed joy. That dream had felt so real, and now it felt like a cruel joke, a glimpse of what might have been.

Gojo nodded, his gaze steady. “She was a great mom, Toji. Megumi was her whole world. She did everything she could to raise him right, even when things got tough.”

The weight of those words settled heavily on Toji’s heart. “What happened to her?” he asked, his voice trembling. He needed to know; he had to understand how it had come to this.

“Heart disease.” Gojo replied, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “Giving birth to Megumi made it worse, but she…she thinks Megumi was the best thing in her life. Her treasure in the sea, she calls him.”

Gojo’s words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling deep in Toji’s chest. He could feel the slow, painful collapse of his heart as the reality of the situation set in. The woman he once cared for, the mother of his son, had been struggling in silence all this time, carrying the burden of her illness alone while he lived his life, unaware. The thought gnawed at him, twisting the guilt deeper into his soul.

“She never regretted it,” Gojo continued, his voice steady but soft. “She said you had a good life. And she did too, despite everything. She wanted to make sure Megumi had the best, and she gave him all the love she could.”

Toji clenched his jaw, fighting against the flood of emotions surging inside him. Anger, sorrow, regret—it all mixed together into a tight knot in his chest. He felt sick with it, sick with the thought that while he was out there, living his life without a care, she had been suffering. And she hadn’t reached out to him. Hadn’t told him how bad things were. She’d shouldered it all on her own.

“But why didn’t she reach out to me?” Toji’s voice trembled, his words barely above a whisper. He needed to know. He needed to understand why she’d kept him in the dark. “I could’ve helped… I would’ve done something. Anything.”

Gojo’s gaze softened, sympathy shining in his eyes. “She didn’t want to burden you. That’s what she always said. You had your own life, your own path. She didn’t want you to feel tied down by everything she was going through.”

Toji’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. He wanted to scream, to curse the universe for being so cruel. How could she have thought he wouldn’t want to help? How could she have carried that weight alone?

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression solemn. “She never saw it as a sacrifice, Toji. In her eyes, you both lived your lives as you were meant to. She loved Megumi with everything she had, and she believed she made the right choice by not involving you. It was her way of protecting you, even if it meant doing it on her own.”

“To protect me?” Toji muttered bitterly, his chest tightening even more. The thought of her enduring so much pain while thinking she was doing it for his sake felt unbearable. “But it wasn’t just about me. I had a right to know… Megumi’s my son, too. I should’ve been there for him. For her.”

“I know,” Gojo said quietly, his tone gentle but firm. “But in her mind, this was the best way. She wanted you to live your life freely. No regrets, no guilt. And in the end, she did what she thought was best for Megumi.”

Toji’s heart ached at those words. The image of her, alone with Megumi, doing her best to raise him while struggling with an illness that had only worsened over the years—it was too much to bear. He couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness that clung to him, the overwhelming regret of not knowing, not being there when they needed him most.

“She called him her treasure in the sea,” Gojo added softly. “He was her everything.”

Toji swallowed hard, his throat tight. “And now what?” he asked, his voice strained. “What happens to Megumi now?”

Gojo’s gaze was steady, full of understanding. “Now, it’s your turn, Toji. Megumi needs you. You might not have been there before, but you can be there now.”

The gravity of Gojo’s words hit him like a tidal wave. Megumi was his responsibility now. His son. And no matter how much he regretted the past, he couldn’t change it. All he could do was move forward and be the father Megumi needed.

Toji’s heart felt heavy, but amidst the pain and regret, a flicker of resolve began to grow. He couldn’t undo what had happened, but he wouldn’t let his son down. Not again.

“I’ll be there for him. I….I will be there, just like she was.” Toji whispered, more to himself than to Gojo. “I won’t let him go through this alone.”

Gojo nodded, his expression softening. “That’s all she ever wanted.”

“Megumi….I….” Toji whispered, a smile breaking through the haze of grief. “I never knew…” His voice trailed off, choked with emotion.

Gojo watched him intently, gauging his reaction. “You can get to know him, Toji. You can be part of his life if you want. He deserves to know his father.”

Toji felt a rush of determination mixed with fear. “I want to be there for him. I want to be part of his life,” he said, his voice firm. “But how do I do that? How do I even begin?”

Gojo stepped back, giving Toji space while still keeping Megumi close. “You take it one step at a time. Start by introducing yourself. He needs to see that you care.”

Toji looked at Megumi, who was now watching him with wide, innocent eyes, curiosity mixing with uncertainty. It felt surreal, being in this moment—a chance to connect with the child he never knew existed.

“Hey, Megumi.” he said softly, kneeling down to the boy’s level. “I’m Toji. I’m your… father.”

The boy’s gaze flickered between Gojo and Toji, processing the words. “Father?” he echoed, his voice small and hesitant.

“Yeah.” Toji said, his heart racing. “I didn’t know about you until today, but I promise I want to be here for you. I want to know you.”

Megumi’s expression shifted, uncertainty still lingering, but there was a flicker of something else—hope? Curiosity? Toji couldn’t tell, but he felt compelled to keep talking. “Your mom and I talked about you once, you know. We dreamed about what it would be like to have a family. We even picked your name together.”

At the mention of your name, Megumi’s eyes brightened a little. “Mom loved me?” he asked, his voice small but filled with longing.

Toji nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “More than anything. She thought you were the most special person in the world.”

Gojo watched the exchange, a subtle smile of encouragement on his face, and for the first time, Toji felt a sense of connection to this boy. A connection that reached beyond the pain and the past, into a future that was now possible.

“Can we talk about her?” Megumi asked, his small voice filled with the innocence of a child who wanted to keep your memory alive.

“Of course.” Toji replied, his heart swelling with affection. “We can talk about her all day. She was amazing, Megumi. And I want to share all the stories with you.”

As they stood there, the weight of loss began to shift, creating space for something new—a tentative bond that could grow into something meaningful. Toji knew it would take time, but he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him.

“I’m here now.” Toji said, looking deep into Megumi’s eyes. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

EVERYTHING HAD BEEN A WHIRLWIND. Fushiguro Toji’s life changed in ways he never anticipated. The news of your passing was like a shockwave, reshaping his world overnight. He left his family. He broke up with his girlfriend. He changed his last name to match yours and Megumi, after he had asked your parents. He needed to focus on raising Megumi. Like you would have wanted. Like it should have been.

Taking on the responsibility of being Megumi’s father was daunting. Every day brought new challenges and revelations. Toji found himself learning how to care for a child, adjusting to late-night feedings and school projects, and discovering the joy of small victories—like Megumi’s laughter during playtime or the pride in his eyes when he accomplished something new.

Yet, amid the routine of parenting, there was a void that lingered deep within him. He wasn’t over you. He never had been. Memories of you flooded his mind—your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the future, the dreams you had shared together. It felt like a cruel twist of fate that he now held the title of father while grappling with the reality that you were gone.

Every time he looked at Megumi, he saw pieces of you—the way he scrunched his nose when he concentrated, the softness of his smile, and the kindness in his heart. Toji often found himself reminiscing about those conversations you had on the beach, envisioning the life you had both dreamed of. It hurt to think of the family that could have been, the moments that would never materialize.

Despite the pain, he pushed forward. For Megumi’s sake, he channeled his grief into being the best father he could be. He read parenting books, reached out for advice, and did his best to create a stable home filled with warmth and love. He wanted Megumi to feel secure, to know that he was cherished and valued.

But as the days turned into weeks and then months, the ache of your absence remained a constant companion. Toji would often catch himself staring out at the ocean, remembering the life you envisioned together, and it struck him anew how unfair it all felt. You had left too soon, and now he was left to navigate the complexities of fatherhood alone, always carrying a piece of your heart with him.

The sea stretched out before them, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filling the air with a soothing melody. Toji stood at the edge of the water, the salty breeze brushing through his hair as he watched Megumi run ahead, his small figure framed against the vast expanse of the ocean. The boy’s quiet demeanor softened in the presence of the sea, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he bent down to pick up a shell, the sunlight catching in his dark hair.

Toji’s heart tightened as he watched him, an unexpected flood of emotions surging through him. This was your place—the sea. You had always talked about how peaceful it made you feel, how the endless horizon made everything seem possible. He remembered the times you’d come here together, how you’d sit by the water, your laughter carried away by the wind. And now, here he was, with your son—his son—standing in the same place you had once loved.

He raised the camera in his hands, snapping a picture of Megumi as the boy turned toward him, holding up the shell in his hand as if to show it to him. Toji couldn’t help but smile, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. There was something about Megumi in this moment, something in his quiet curiosity, the way his eyes softened as he gazed at the sea, that reminded him so much of you.

It hit him like a wave—how much of you lived in Megumi. Not just in his looks, but in his spirit. The calm, quiet strength, the way he approached the world with a sense of wonder, but always with his guard up. You had given Megumi more than just life; you had given him a piece of your heart, a piece of the love you had carried for both of them.

Toji took another picture, capturing the way the light danced across Megumi’s face, the way the sea reflected in his eyes. And for a moment, he could see you—standing there beside him, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves, your hand resting gently on his shoulder.

He lowered the camera, his gaze softening as he watched Megumi return to the water’s edge. He was beginning to understand now, the words you had left behind, the meaning of what you had called Megumi—your treasure in the sea. It wasn’t just about the boy himself, but what he represented. The love you had for him, the love you had for Toji, even if life had taken you down separate paths.

Megumi was that love. He was the bridge between you and Toji, the one thing that connected them both, even after you were gone.

Toji closed his eyes, taking in the sound of the sea, letting it wash over him. For so long, he had been angry, filled with regret for not being there when you needed him most. But now, standing here with Megumi, he realized that you hadn’t left him behind. You had left him something more precious than anything else—the love you shared, alive in your son.

As Megumi looked back at him, the shell still in his hand, Toji smiled. He walked toward him, crouching down to meet the boy’s gaze.

“You know,” Toji said, his voice soft, “your mom used to say you were her treasure in the sea.”

Megumi blinked, tilting his head slightly. “What does that mean?”

Toji reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Megumi’s face. “It means she loved you more than anything. She saw something special in you, something worth holding onto. And she was right.”

Megumi looked down at the shell in his hand, turning it over thoughtfully. “Do you miss her?”

Toji’s chest tightened, the familiar ache of loss rising to the surface. But for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. He glanced back at the sea, the horizon stretching out endlessly, just like the love that still connected them.

“Yeah,” Toji admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I do. But you know what? I see her in you. Every day.”

Megumi’s eyes widened slightly, and he gave a small nod, as if trying to absorb the weight of his father’s words. They stood there in silence for a moment, the gentle sound of the waves filling the space between them. Toji pulled out the camera once more, capturing one last picture—Megumi standing at the shore, his small frame against the endless sea, the shell still clutched in his hand.

At that moment, Toji understood. Megumi was not just your treasure; he was your treasure. The love that both of you had poured into him, the love that endured, even when everything else had changed.

And now, standing beside his son, Fushiguro Toji felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The peace only you could give him.

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bengiyo · 2 months ago

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Our Youth: "Don't Do It At School"

Trying to figure out how to function today because I'm still thinking about Our Youth Episode 5. I do love when we get a good POV switch that lets us see that the other boy has definitely been falling this entire time. I had wondered about Hirukawa's feelings about his constant abuse, and was not surprised at how dark things had gotten for him. More than anything, I'm still thinking about how when you're in the closet you're always speaking between the lines.

I love that Minase reached the point where he could express openly some of what he's feeing for Hirukawa while we were in Hirukawa's POV. I'm still sorting my complicated feelings about Minase's absent father being Hirukawa's favorite filmmaker, and his one queer film giving Minase the perspective to reexamine his feelings for Hirukawa.

I'm still thinking about the question, "Are we homosexuals?" and the response of "Does that mean you like me?" I'm certain some things were lost in translation, but I definitely understand what it means to ask an implied question from the closet and respond with another implication. I felt the, "Do you like me, because I like you" and the response of "Of course I like you. Are you ready for that?" That Minase risked seeing Hirukawa at school and only set the boundary of "not at school" communicates so much.

I don't have any specialized poignant thoughts about this. I just remember being closeted like this, and it doesn't help that I watched Beautiful Thing (1996) with some friends for their first time yesterday. It was so notable for me how confrontational everyone was in Beautiful Thing, and the comparison feels so loud here, which also featured one of the boys getting their shit kicked in at home constantly. Now I'm just supposed to sit here and wait for their first time for a week. Sometimes it really is so hard to watch shows live.

#Ben watches #miseinen: mijukuna oretachi wa bukiyo ni shinkochu #our youth #our youth the series #miseinen #japanese bl #bl series

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solecist · 1 year ago

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was watching 악어's (acau's) vod today (it's amazing finally understanding more than one language on the qsmp fully ayeeee) and just wanted to clarify something! was noticing that 어색해 (second vod around min 52) was getting translated to "awkward". it isn't wrong persay but in english, saying that a person to person interaction was "awkward" has a bit of a negative connotation -- it's definitely not a positive word

when i tend to use 어색해, which is a word i almost only heard when talking about human interaction, i usually mean "shy" more than awkward. it's a bit of a complicated feeling -- you're a bit shy and a bit lost but it's a word that generally has pretty positive connotations (i like to think of it like the shyness that comes from meeting someone you really like/want to get to know better/want to impress, but that's more of a personal thing?)

i noticed it because quackity probably saw the word "awkward" instead of shy at the end of his tour/showing 악어 around. so he immediately assured 악어 that the qsmp team is there to help (which was sweet <3) but probably 악어 meant more of a "i'm a bit shy so i'll take a bit of time to do some personal exploring"

he also said that he was sure that any shyness (어색한) would wear off after he got to know people better!

#just wanted to clarify bc on all sides it was really sweet watching his introduction to the qsmp #qsmp #qsmp acau #악어 #qsmp 악어 #translation #qsmp korea #quackity #q!acau #someone help this is my first post idk how to tag qsmp

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parkitrighthere · 3 months ago

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TEASER

• TITLE: Under The Blue Sky (Tangled In Love And Destiny Series)

• PAIRING: CEO!Yoongi x Accountant!Reader

• GENRE: Romance, Grumpy X sunshine, CEO au, fluff (?), love at first sight

• WORD COUNT: 5k+

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story explores themes of love at first sight, identity concealment, and the clash of personalities between two contrasting characters. It delves into the complexities of their budding relationship as they navigate misunderstandings and attraction. The narrative includes mature content, including explicit scenes and sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

• SUMMARY: Yoongi, the grumpy CEO, never believed in love at first sight—until he saw you on a rainy street. He kept his identity hidden, but when you moves in next door, things start to get complicated. Your sunshine personality clashes beneath the surface, sparks fly. Can your sunshine essence melt his cold heart, or will both of your differences will drive you apart?

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @parkitrighthere. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: I'm not tagging anyone here since it’s just a little teaser, but don’t worry if you’re on the taglist—I’ll definitely tag you when UBS1 is ready to go (which shouldn’t take too long… hopefully 🙈). Thanks for being patient with me, you’re the best!

MASTERLIST

You slouched back on your couch, the exhaustion from yesterday’s move still weighing on your bones, but there was a sense of satisfaction that kept you from fully collapsing. Your eyes swept over the apartment—every box was finally unpacked, every corner now arranged to your liking. As tiring as it had been, the sight of your new home made it all feel worth it. You let out a long, relieved breath and let your head fall back against the couch, closing your eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The scent of room freshener—lilies and jasmine—clung to the air, soothing your senses as the cool breeze from the balcony slipped through the open door, brushing against your bare arms. A shiver danced down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps, but it only made you smile more, the chill somehow comforting.

It was strange, though, sitting here in this quiet space, feeling the weight of everything that had brought you back to Seoul after so many years. The city had a familiar coldness to it, something that you had once known and yet felt so distant now. Eight years in Busan, away from the hustle and memories of this place, and now you were back. It all felt like a dream, an impossible twist in the story of your life. But life was nothing if not unexpected. You had learned that lesson early—how everything could change in an instant, how things could shift and crumble, and how the paths you thought you were meant to take often led you somewhere completely different.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, but it was hollow. The memories you carried with you felt heavy, like weights tied to your chest, and the loneliness that had crept into your life felt more pronounced now that you were here, in this new chapter. It was funny, you thought—how at one point, your life had been full. Full of people, of laughter, of noise. And then, somewhere along the way, you lost that. You lost them. You lost pieces of yourself too, chasing after things you thought you wanted, only to find that when you caught them, they weren’t what you needed. And those things you lost, those connections, those moments... you would never get them back. Only regrets remained, settling into the quiet corners of your mind.

But that was life, right? You had so many regrets, so many things you wished you had done differently, but you were still here, still smiling, still breathing. Because it was life. And life didn’t care if you understood it or not. You had learned that much over the years.

A soft, rueful sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering open as you stared at the ceiling. A memory crossed your mind, one that had stayed with you: "It's all in your head. Control it before it controls you." A piece of advice from someone who meant well, but who could never understand what it felt like to be stuck in the chaos of your own thoughts. Young you had thought it was profound. Wise. But now, now you understood it in a way that had nothing to do with wisdom. It was a struggle. The battle between your mind and your emotions, between wanting to control it all and knowing that you couldn’t.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands creeping closer to eight. Then, a sudden ding-dong of the doorbell sliced through the silence, jolting you from your thoughts. You blinked, disoriented, a frown pulling at your brows. “Who could it be...?” The words escaped your lips in a whisper, the confusion lingering as you glanced at your phone, only to toss it back onto the couch, your focus now entirely on the door.

You got to your feet, the motion slow, almost hesitant, as if your body hadn’t fully caught up to the change in pace. With deliberate steps, you made your way toward the door. Standing before the door, you paused for just a second, your hand hovering over the handle before you unlocked it. Just enough to peek your head out.

And there, standing on the other side, was a sight that left your heart skipping a beat. A man, impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, his hair styled with effortless precision. A stray lock fell across his forehead.

He looked... familiar. But not in the way you could place him, more in a way that tugged at the edges of your memory, like a faint echo of something. You frowned slightly, brows furrowing as you tried to remember where you’d seen him before. But you couldn’t quite grasp it. How could you forget a face like that?

He was stunning—his features sharp yet gentle, his lips full and soft. There was a youthful roundness to his face that made him look so effortlessly cute, and something about his presence made your chest tighten. His smile—oh, that smile—was a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and suddenly, you felt the urge to reach out, to pinch his cheeks, as ridiculous as that thought was. It was as if his smile held the power to disarm you completely, leaving your heart fluttering like it was caught in a soft breeze.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say or do, just staring up at him as your stomach twisted into knots.

"Hi!" he whispered, his voice soft. He gave a small, playful bow, his movements smooth. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, and his lips curled into a smile that was warm, disarming.

You blinked, still taken aback, and pulled the door open fully, your own response a little stiff as you bowed your head in return. Your hands hung by your sides, awkward, unsure of what to do next. You gave a small nod, the movement barely noticeable. It was more instinct than anything else.

"You live here?" he asked, his words filled with a strange mixture of confidence and confusion. It wasn’t the kind of confusion that showed doubt, but more like he was piecing something together in his mind. It was almost like a game to him, the way his brows furrowed playfully.

You nodded again, not trusting your voice just yet. His gaze was intense, but in a way that made you want to stay just a moment longer. His smile widened, slow and deliberate, like he was letting it spread across his face just for you to see.

"You need something?" You finally managed, your words polite, but your posture tense. It was hard not to be wary. Men, you thought. You knew better. They were nothing but trouble, a lesson you had learned the hardest way. The memories of it still lingered in your chest like an old bruise.

He tilted his head slightly, the smile never faltering. "Oh! Actually, you must have ordered food, right?" His voice was light, almost playful, yet his words felt oddly innocent. He didn’t seem like a creep, nor did he look like a delivery guy. He looked... out of place in a way that didn’t sit right with you.

You nodded, still unsure of how this was going to play out. You gave him another once-over, a little more deliberate this time. From head to toe, he was wrapped in luxury—designer clothes that probably cost more than your rent. You couldn’t even name half the brands, but you could tell from the sharp cut of his suit and the way he carried himself that he wasn’t some lowly delivery guy.

There was no way. No way in hell. Not a chance. He couldn’t be. Not in a billion years.

"And?" You prompted, still trying to piece together what was happening.

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah," he started, his words tumbling out quickly, almost like he couldn’t catch his breath. "Actually, the delivery guy dropped your order at my friend’s place. I was about to open it, but fortunately, I checked the bill attach to it and saw the address." He handed you the paper bag with a slight flick of his wrist.

You were so distracted by his presence, by the way his smile tugged at his lips and the gleam in his eyes, that you didn’t even notice the bag in his hand at first. You stood there, your fingers instinctively clutching the handle of the bag. A sudden rush of awareness hit you, and you looked back up at him, a sense of confusion swirling in your chest.

"Thank you...," you muttered, still trying to gather your thoughts, but your words trailed off when he interrupted, a touch of offense in his tone.

"Jimin," he corrected quickly, his brow furrowing slightly, a blush creeping up his neck. His lips curled into a playful, almost teasing smile, as though he found the whole situation amusing. "Jimin Park.”

The name hit you like a cold splash of water. Your eyes widened in shock as recognition struck you hard. Jimin Park. Of course. How could you not have known? He was everywhere—the notorious, high-profile director of Jeon Enterprises, always plastered across the media. Whether it was for business deals, lavish parties, or rumors about his playboy lifestyle, he was a constant figure in the spotlight.

You straightened up, an automatic sign of respect. "Thank you, Mr. Park." The words felt strange coming from your lips, like they didn’t quite belong to you. It was hard to act casual in front of someone so... big—someone you had only ever seen in the headlines.

Jimin's gaze softened, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy the moment.

"No. Please, call me Jimin," he said, his voice shifting to a softer, almost shy tone.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond, but you nodded slowly. "Okay, Jimin," you said, testing the name on your tongue. It felt casual, and for some reason, that made it all the more strange.

"Your the new tenant, right?" His voice practically bubbled with excitement, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The way he was looking at you—too keen, too interested—made your skin prickle with unease. You felt your heart beat a little faster. His attention was...too much, too sudden.

"Yes...?" you replied, the uncertainty in your voice betraying the suspicion building in your chest.

"Wow! That's... something," he laughed, his grin widening, but there was a hint of something in his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was curiosity or mischief, but it made the hairs on your neck stand up.

"What you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to make sense of his words.

"Nothing, really! It’s just that this flat has been vacant for years now." Jimin's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. He seemed to be enjoying the effect his words had on you.

Your brow furrowed. "Why? It’s a good one. It even has a pretty view from the balcony," you said, trying to defend your decision. The apartment was beautiful, a perfect little corner in the city. You couldn't understand why someone would leave it empty for so long.

Jimin’s smile faltered, and his eyes dropped for a moment as if he was weighing his next words carefully. Then, his gaze flicked back up to meet yours, a hint of something dark flickering behind his grin. "No, you got it all wrong," he said, voice lowering just a bit. "Actually, it was instructed not to let anyone stay here. So...”

The words hit you like a cold shock, a wave of disbelief crashing over you. You blinked, mouth dry, unable to fully process what he was saying. "What?" The word came out too sharp, too confused. "Why would they do that?”

He shrugged casually, but the tension in his shoulders gave away that this was something more serious. "How would I know? I just do." The casualness didn’t match the weight of his words, and it made your stomach churn. Was he just trying to mess with you? Or was there something more? His easy smile didn’t help ease the growing knot in your chest.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your lips pressing into a tight line. "How do you know?" you asked, your voice low. Your gaze locked onto his, silently daring him to give you some ridiculous explanation.

He leaned in slightly, his smile not faltering, but there was something else now—a slight glint of pride, maybe? "What do you mean? I’m friends with the person who instructed it.”

You scoffed, disbelief dancing in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?”

"Who else, woman. Min Yoongi, the CEO of Min Corporation.The owner of this freaking building.”

Your breath hitched. Now this conversation was spiraling into territory you hadn’t expected. A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down quickly. The name Min Yoongi struck you like a bolt. The CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the country? This was getting ridiculous.

You knew about Min Yoongi. Everyone did. He wasn’t just a person; he was a name, a reputation. No one ever really saw him, though. He stayed out of the spotlight, almost like a ghost. Starting your new job at Min Corporations, it only made sense to know a little about the CEO. Not that you’d gone digging or anything—there wasn’t much to find. He was private, almost obsessively so.

Despite your gut telling you to shut the door and walk away, you stayed rooted to the spot. Your mind screamed for you to let go, but your curiosity was louder. Tomorrow would be your first day at Min Corporation, and you were curious, even though you shouldn't. You could almost taste curiosity in the back of your tongue.

"Why?" you asked before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out before you could think. Shit, you cursed internally. You never knew when to keep quiet.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with... Something, you couldn't quite place, his lips curving into a grin. "I don’t know," he said, tilting his head slightly, his voice suddenly softer, more gentle. "But I asked him to shift here once, and he told me he loathes noise... and I’m noisy." He chuckled at the last part, his fingers twitching at his side, almost like he was waiting for your response. "Am I?"

You bit back a smile, the words "Yeah, you do seem noisy" on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them. He was fun to talk to, and you couldn’t deny it. It had been a while since someone had made you laugh, and it was oddly comforting.

"Jimin-ah" Before you could respond, a deep, calm voice cut through the air, and you froze mid-thought. Jimin’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face the source of the voice. You followed his gaze, and when your eyes met the man standing at the end of the hall, your breath hitched.

"I swear," Jimin continued, shaking his head as if he was reminiscing about something. "That guy has serious issues. You need to be careful around him."

It’s him.

"Suga, hyung," Jimin greeted, his voice soft, almost in reverence. Suga. The name rolled through your mind, oddly familiar yet strangely comforting, like something you’d always liked without realizing it, and you recognized him instantly. The man standing there was none other than the person who had helped you two days ago—when you were a mess, crying in the rain at that bus stop.

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat picking up speed. It felt like fate had thrown this moment at you, but it wasn’t without its sting. You remembered every second of that breakdown. The humiliation of crying on a street corner, in front of a stranger, no less. And yet, there he was again, but this time, he seemed... Different.

Why wasn’t he looking at you?

Your stomach twisted in discomfort. It wasn’t like you expected him to remember you, but he—of all people—had been there when you were falling apart, and yet, his gaze didn’t meet yours.

It had only been two days.

His attention was fully on Jimin, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. His eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a firm line. “I told you to wait for me, Jimin-ah,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was a trace of irritation under the surface.

Jimin simply waved it off with a dismissive gesture, clearly unbothered. “I was. You’re late,” he said with an air of nonchalance, but his expression shifted to something as he added, “And why are you scolding me?”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg, as though trying to hold his patience. "I told you to wait." His eyes flicked briefly toward you, but quickly away, as if it was an afterthought. The tension in his shoulders, however, told you something more. Anxiety? Was he anxious about something? Was he… waiting for something?

Jimin, still unfazed, pointed to the paper bag with a lazy grin. “I was just handing her this,” he said casually, nodding toward you. “Somebody delivered it at your place, hyung.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word after that. He simply nodded, a sharp, cold motion, before he turned on his heel, starting to drag Jimin toward the apartment next to yours. The air around you felt tense, heavy, almost suffocating. You were still standing there, unable to process the coldness that had overtaken him.

But before they could get too far, Jimin stopped, yanking his arm away from Yoongi with an exaggerated grunt. He turned back to you, flashing that same teasingly sweet smile. “It’s him," Jimin said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Your neighbour and the C—”

“I know him,” you interrupted quickly, your words tumbling out almost desperately.

But Jimin’s eyes widened, surprise crossing his face for just a fraction of a second before he turned to look at Yoongi with a slow, subtle smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yoongi, however, was already shaking his head, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes not meeting yours. His voice, when it came, was sharp and final, the words cutting through the air like ice. “No,” he said, the simple word leaving no room for any further discussion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his tone. You hadn’t expected it—this abrupt, dismissive coldness. What happened to the guy who helped me? The memory of him offering you his coat, in that rainy street, his voice so soft and understanding, felt like a distant dream now. This Yoongi was nothing like the one you had met two days ago.

You took a step forward, wanting to hold on to the memory of that moment, desperate to remind him. “What?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You were shocked, and you couldn’t mask it. “We met. Don’t you remember? Saturday evening—”

“I said I. Do. Not,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice colder than before, each word heavy with finality. His eyes still didn’t meet yours, and his posture was stiff, rigid. The tension between you was unbearable, like an invisible wall had been built between you two in the span of seconds.

Your face burned. The pink on your cheeks deepened with humiliation, your heart sinking. Why was he lying? Why was he denying it so harshly? You tried to hold it together, but your hands trembled at your sides, your breath catching in your throat. Why was he being like this?

How could he be the same person?

The disappointment hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your shoulders sag slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your gaze shifted to the ground as your fingers clenched tightly around the paper bag in your hand.

Jimin, who had been standing there quietly, watching the exchange unfold, must have noticed how your face fell. He took a step toward you. He could see it, too—the change in Yoongi. And maybe, just maybe, he could sense your discomfort, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“It’s okay if he don’t remember,” Jimin said, trying to break the tension, but his words barely landed. His voice, though soft, couldn’t lift the heaviness settling in your chest. “I’ll introduce you both. He’s your neighbor and the C—”

“Building manager,” Yoongi interrupted sharply, his words slicing through the air like a cold wind. His tone left no room for argument. He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, his eyes fixed on Jimin, his hand already gripping his arm with surprising force.

Jimin’s mouth hung open for a moment, clearly caught off guard by Yoongi’s sudden shift. He blinked rapidly, as though trying to process what he’d just heard. “Building manager?” His voice came out more as a question than a statement. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth snapped shut with a soft click, as if he was trying to hold back the flood of disbelief.

Yoongi didn’t answer him. Instead, he pulled Jimin by the arm, his grip tightening as he dragged him toward the apartment beside yours. The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw flexed as he moved with a strange urgency, his face set in a hard line.

The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud, the sound echoing in your ears like a final punctuation mark to the whole exchange. The force of it seemed to shake the air around you, the finality of it stinging more than you expected.

You were left standing there, frozen, staring at the now-closed door. Your heart still pounded in your chest, the hurt and confusion twisting inside you like a knot you couldn’t untangle. Building manager?

a/n: Hey, hey, hey, people! Did you survive it? Did you actually like it? Because if you did, please let me know—boost my fragile ego. And if you didn’t, that’s fine too; just rip me apart gently. Feedback makes me feel like a real writer or at least someone pretending to be one. Honestly, I don’t think it was that interesting, but hey, the goal was to post something, right? So yeah, hit me with your thoughts. I'm all ears (and slightly terrified)!

a/n: I know, I know, a lot of you are probably like, ‘Jae, what the hell? Why didn’t he just tell her he’s the CEO? What’s with the secret identity? And why is he so rude?’ Look, I get it. All I can say is: UBS1 is coming soon, so read it and find out. Also, he’s not rude, okay? He’s just... scared Jimin might spill the beans about him being the CEO. That’s it.

#kookiewithluv #bts ffs #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts smut #under the blue sky #yoongi smut #yoongi bangtan #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi bts

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alexanderwales · 1 month ago

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This is someone demonstrating the use of a rope dart. It's a blade on the end of rope, and you swing it around as a weapon. The woman demonstrating it probably put a lot of time into a bunch of awesome moves and a little choreo, and that's a skill worthy of saying "wow, cool!" about.

But I go to the comments and see a bunch of people saying "I didn't know this was a real weapon!" or "wow, amazing to see this forgotten historical practice".

And ... no. Sorry. This is a performance art. It's cool, but it's in the same class as juggling. I'm a juggler, I think juggling is cool, I have a lot of respect for people showing their routines, but I'm not (implicitly or otherwise) making claims about its combat effectiveness or its historical use by military or private individuals.

Did the rope dart ever actually exist? I have read just about as much as I can on the subject without talking to an expert and/or learning Mandarin. This was one of those irritating research questions where everyone keeps showing the same four pictures over and over, and in a quest for ad revenue, the same text has been copy and pasted hundreds of times all over the internet, usually without a citation.

Did people ever use a rope with a weight on the end? Yes, absolutely. Grappling hooks are great for boarding enemy vessels, and something like a bolas is great for entangling the legs of a horse; the Chinese have pretty well-documented use of both.

Are there records of a rope dart? I mean ... kind of. But there are "records" of lots of things, and if we can look at a video of something like the above and think "man, that's dope as hell" then I think we should assume that people have been thinking that for basically all of human history. People have also always loved talking about their blorbos. They like cool shit, they like grandiose characters that are divorced from reality. Most of the very scant sources are approximately on that level. There's a bit more evidence for something called a meteor hammer (or comet hammer in some translations), but that had a weight on the end of the rope/chain, not a blade, and there's also very little evidence its historical use.

So unless there's some killer source unknown to the people whose research I was reading, I am willing to say with a reasonable level of confidence that rope darts have pretty much always been a performance art in one way or another, a fun little skill toy, or something used for martial arts busking.

(I should mention that the research question is complicated by the impact of the Cultural Revolution on Chinese martial arts. The Red Guard wanted to transform martial arts to align with Maoist doctrine, and a lot of the traditional martial arts were seen as religious and anti-proletarian, bourgeois and decadent. In practice, this meant that a lot of martial arts masters were persecuted, imprisoned, tortured, forbidden to teach, or killed. Additionally, a lot of primary source documents were lost, and by "lost" I mean intentionally burned and destroyed by the Red Guard. So it's possible that (in addition to me poking at a pretty intense language barrier) there were better historical documents chronicling the dubious history of the rope dart which no longer exist.)

Anyway, if you go to read up on the rope dart, you'll see a lot of people singing its praises as a weapon, and fundamentally, physics and practicality are working against it. The best argument I've seen for a similar weapon is a claw on the end of a rope to grab someone on horseback and pull him off, but that's a claw, not a dart, and I'm still somewhat skeptical. I don't think I need to get into why a rope dart is a bad weapon when compared to most other options. It shares most of the weaknesses of throwing knives, which themselves are much more sport/performance than of practical use.

There's such a deep desire to root cool shit in history and authenticity and practicality. There's this burning need, I think, to see a performance routine like this and say that it's a useful skill. I get it, it's a fantasy, but trying to make that fantasy more real by dressing it in the garb of reality is just ... I don't know. Sad, I guess. Like we can't see a cool thing and accept it as a cool thing, like it's got to glom onto something else, take on the power of truth.

That said, am I going to include a villain with a rope dart in my next book? Probably, yeah. It's undeniably cool.

#research

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killerlookz · 4 months ago

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hiiii, could you do these for the ask game?

3, 19, 24, 28

break my heart again pls 🙌🏻

omgggg all so angsty.... hehehe i love it ty for the ask <3

full ask prompt here: click here to see previously answered asks

3. Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”? 19. what’s their favorite pass time when they’re upset? 24. do either of them have the other’s stuff lying around their house? 28. what’s their go-to breakup/angst song?

pairing: heartbeat! reader x joost

RPF below the cut, do not interact if uncomfortable!!!

3. Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

Joost says I love you first, and if it were anybody else you'd be concerned with how fast he said it- just over a month after your first date.

Joost hadn't even meant to say it, but he meant what he said. It's painstakingly late, the two of you finally getting to bed after a long night out for a mutual friend's birthday. You're riddled with exhaustion, the faint tingle of intoxication still lingering, leaving you dazed as you lay in bed next to Joost.

The bright white of the moon peeks through a gap in Joost's blinds, casting the room in a soft glow. Joost wraps his arms around you, pressing his bare chest to your back, pulling you close. It's pure bliss. Pure happiness.

He presses a couple kisses to the crown of your head, before straining his neck to reach over and kiss your cheek. If he wasn't so tired he'd lay there kissing you for hours, unable to keep himself from you.

But the two of you both struggle to keep your eyes open, unable to escape the clutches of your own exhaustion. Joost lays his head back down on the pillow, placing one more kiss to the top of your head before mumbling against your scalp,

"Slaap lekker, schatje," He hums, nuzzling his cheek against your hair, "Ik hou van jou." Joost had often lost all concept of English once ehe hit a certain point of exhaustion, much easier to talk in his native language than attempt to translate in his head.

Unfortunate for you, as you usually had to try your best to decipher what it was he was saying. Except for this, you knew this, you knew exactly what he was saying. You're caught off guard, your tiredness escaping you for a few brief moments as the shock hits, he loves you. You wonder if he had meant to say it, or if it had just slipped off his tongue.

Regardless you know he means it, you can feel it, you love him too.

"I love you too, Joost." A soft smile pushing at the corners of your lips as you close your eyes.

You couldn't see it but Joost is smiling too, his cheeks a pretty pink as he snuggles against you.

as for who end their arguments in a fight with "because i love you"- its definitely you. Truthfully, you're usually the one who picks the fights to begin with, usually over little things, little things that eventually become big things due to Joost's persistent avoidance of complicated subjects in your relationship.

Toward the end of an argument, once you're all cried out, cheeks stinging, eyes puffy, head tense and aching, you have no fight left in you, you dont want to argue anymore, you just want things back to normal.

After a few moments of silence, lingering tension thick in the air, you'll give a final, pathetic, "I love you", trying to use those three words as an explanation of why you've gone through all of what you just did.

you love him, and you can't stand that issues in your relationship never seem to get solved, and so badly do you just want to move passed them, so things can be happy again.

but joost loves you too, loves you too much to even want to acknowledge problems in your relationship to begin with, even problems with himself. scared if he acknowledges them you'll "come to your senses and leave"

and you do.

19. what’s their favorite pass time when they’re upset?

when you're upset with each other, Joost's favorite pastime is to go to the studio with Tantu and work on new music, channeling all of his energy and all of his emotions into whatever project he's working on.

He has a ton of songs that will remain unreleased, expressing his true feelings, all of the things he wishes he could say to you but can't. It helps him for a little bit, its not as good as getting everything he says off his chest too you, but he feels like its the most he can do, too scared to go any further.

unfortunately for you, when you're upset with Joost you don't have an outlet like he does with music. Instead, to pass the time with good old fashion retail therapy. Sometimes you'll sit on the couch, hunched over your laptop, sipping on your second glass of wine, late at night, scrolling through your favorite clothing website, mindlessly adding everything that looks cute to your cart.

You'll regret it come morning when you've probably spent way more money than you should of, noting you'll have to cut back on spending a little for the rest of the month, but for now it soothes you.

sometimes you'll prefer to just take yourself out and do the shopping in person. heading to the little cafe you like around the corner for a latte before spending your day on the town, going into all of your favorite stores in the city. it's a little easier to control your spending here at least, but still, sometimes you can't help but splurge on something that you absolutely must have, finding it worth it even if it soothes your sadness just a little.

if you're just upset in general and not necessarily at each other, for both of you, you just enjoy passing the time in each others company, just being together often makes you two feel at least a little better, doesn't matter what you're doing- going out on a date, spending the night in, taking a nap, showering together- whatever it is, just as long as you're with each other you feel better.

this extends post breakup too, wanting to be in the other ones company when upset.

a countless amount of times you've shown up at Joost's door after a shitty shift at work, or an argument with Michael. Joost had become good at reading you, he can tell almost immediately when something's wrong, hurrying you into his apartment as soon as he sees you behind the door.

those moments are usually wordless, Joost ushering you in, and you immediately headed straight for his arms. You know you shouldn't, it's an act perhaps even more intimate than just having sex, the emotional aspect of it all. but you can't help yourself, nobody else's company able to bring you the peace that Joost could offer.

but at the same time, no one else could bring the turmoil he did too.

24. do either of them have the other’s stuff lying around their house?

absolutely! tons, and tons of things.

Both of yours closets are littered with each other's clothes. You'll often take your clothes off to sleep at Joost's, putting his on instead, and the next morning you'll end up heading home, still dressed in his clothes, which in turn become your clothes.

You both also have some of your toiletries at the other ones house- so frequently being at the each others houses you just end up leaving some things there so you don't have to take them back and forth.

After the two of you break up, nobody makes an effort to give the other one their things back- neither of you able to part with what is left of the other.

You still have a ton of Joost's clothes, you still wear them to bed, sometimes they still smell like him- lying in bed you'll wrap your arms around one of the stuffed animals he bought you, holding it close while you inhale the scent that lingers on his clothes, trying your best to dream of the happier times when you two were still together.

Joost still has a ton of your things too, as I had mentioned in my last fic you'd left a bunch of skin care products at his house- but that's not the extent of it.

For you it's mainly little things he finds around his apartment after you break up. A necklace on his bedside table, a lipstick under his bathroom counter, the ring that you had swore you lost between his couch cushions- all of which remind him of your once constant presence in his house.

28. what’s their go-to breakup/angst song?

ok...so I have a couple- ok so, I head canon that for this series Joost is like, super into Lil Peep (which I can postulate isn't even a head canon giving the everything about him, especially when he was younger) anyways, for this reason I think

Walk Away as the Door Slams, is a huuuuuuuuuuuge song for him, both when things are about to go completely south for you two, and when you finally actually break up.

But also definitely Fake Plastic Trees by Radiohead, the whole "If I could be who you wanted," thing towards the end... yeah... gets him every.fucking.time. Sometimes he'll just sit and listen to it on a loop, over and over, letting out a pitiful sob, reminiscing on all of the things he could have done better should have done better.

Not a breakup song, but another angst song for him is Sex by The 1975... well not much explanation needed, literally just the frustration of hooking up with another man's girlfriend when you want her so bad, and know you can treat her better.

For you-well, I don't know your music taste, so I'm going purely off vibes and lyrical content with how it pertains to the situation.

Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers is a big one, just the whole narrative of being so deeply in love with someone but knowing it's not necessarily good for you. You've violently sobbed more times than you can count to the "Know its for the better" lines, because yes, breaking up with Joost, was for the better (or at least you tell yourself it will be) but its still so hard.

Ghost by Sky Ferreira, by no means is it an angry angry song but you definitely put it on when you're not feeling so much self pity, and rather just more upset about the situation at hand, upset at Joost mostly for basically forcing your hand at making you break up with him.

Lastly, when you're feeling insanely guilty about the whole Michael situation, Cry by Cigarettes After Sex- you know you should probably feel guilty for how you're treating Michael when you listen to that song, but you definitely feel very very guilty for the position Joost is in this situation, and this song absolutely reminds you of that fact.

I fear Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley is a song that resonates with both of you.... "maybe im too young to keep good love from going wrong." .... yep.... gets you both.

#joost klein x reader #rpf #heartbeat! au #heartbeat! asks

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cookinguptales · 1 year ago

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As someone who grew up in a bilingual household where we spoke English but also signed, the part of Mabel and Theo's relationship that fascinates me the most is the communication, or lack thereof.

I'm mostly hearing (...sort of...) but grew up around a lot of d/Deaf people, CODAs, interpreters, etc. so while I can't give any input on the experience of profound deafness, I can at least tell apart different styles of signing. It's a little hard to tell sometimes how much of this is characterization vs. the skill level of the actors, but it is interesting.

Teddy Dimas does not sign fluidly. It's immediately obvious. It's not that he's terrible or that he can't be understood... it's just that there are a lot of tells that he does not sign as a primary language. The terseness of the signs, the deliberateness. You can tell that there's a second of thought before each sign, a jerky sort of compactness to them, that's common with people who learn to sign later in life. (Or who don't get a ton of practice with it.)

Signing, when you do it right, requires the use of your whole body. That can be hard for hearing people, who are generally used to more restrained movements. Teddy Dimas has never quite lost that restraint. He still can't go all in, not with his signing or his parenting.

I always thought this was really interesting, because it means that Teddy most likely learned to sign for his son (tragically uncommon with hearing parents of Deaf children) but that he still can't quite translate his thoughts properly into sign language. He can't quite get his emotions through to his son. There's a barrier there between them, and it seems to be largely one that Teddy's erected -- until Theo starts snapping back.

What I'm getting at is that Teddy has always forcibly drawn his son into his world instead of immersing himself in Theo's, and it shows. And it has really harmed their relationship, in more ways than one.

Zoe... we don't see a ton of her signing, but there does seem to be something somewhat performative about it. It's more fluid, like perhaps she's done it her whole life, but there's also something sort of... idk, false about it? And I wonder if that's just Zoe. It felt like she was always covering up her true feelings of loneliness and emptiness with a flamboyant personality, and the little flourishes to her signing seem to convey that as well. Her signing feels almost theatrical to me.

Theo and Mabel, though... I've always loved that episode where they go to Coney Island together. I get the criticism that Theo said at the beginning that he couldn't understand much of what she said when he was reading lips -- and then she proceeded to just talk at him for the rest of the episode anyway. But to me, at least, that always seemed like it was kind of the point. They couldn't understand each other, not fully, and that was something soothing to them.

There's something healing, I think, about shouting into the void. Letting out all of your most personal, complicated feelings without fear of repercussion or judgement. Talking into the wind because you know it won't talk back. You need to feel that echo but also know that it won't be heard.

I think there was some of that there in their initial relationship. Both of them desperately needed to talk, to get everything off their chests, but both of them also have trouble opening up to others due to trauma. So I think speaking to someone who couldn't understand them was, in some ways, ideal. They could make a human connection while keeping it fairly impersonal. They could unload without fear of judgement -- or worse, understanding.

Oddly, I think their mutual need to communicate without being understood was the one thing they understood best about each other. They could sense each other's loneliness and wariness and inability to trust that they could tell someone something important without it being used against them -- because their love and their trust have always been used against them.

So maybe in a way, their inability to talk to each other was actually what helped them communicate on a deeper level...?

Still, though. Still. I was so pleased to see that Mabel is learning more sign language so she can talk to Theo. She's got a long way to go, but no one learns to sign overnight. She's making progress, and you can tell that Theo appreciates it. There are still times where he gets too excited and signs too fast and she doesn't catch all of it, and there are times when she gets so wrapped up in her own soliloquies that she forgets that you have to face Deaf people while talking to them, but there's a familiarity to it now. When he signs too fast, she smiles and teases him. When she talks too quickly or forgets to sign or turns away from him, he just smiles and sighs and shakes his head. Then waits for her to come back.

Theo finds it irritating, obviously, but also understands that it's just... Mabel. She spends so much time in her own head that she has trouble communicating even with people who speak her language, as evidenced with Tobert. And maybe Theo does understand her in ways that others can't. Maybe it's the very fact that he accepts that he can't always understand her that makes her feel comfortable with him.

I also have to wonder, y'know... Has anyone ever learned to sign for him before, other than his father, who clearly saw it as a burden? Has anyone ever seen him as worth the effort of learning, not out of an obligation to speak to him but a desire to? No wonder he's being patient with her. I wonder if anyone has ever put in as much effort for him as she already has. It makes me so sad to think about, because what she's doing now is so... bare minimum. Theo has been so desperately alone, and so much of that is because his father isolated him. It's because no one else ever reached out. :(

idk, it just makes me happy that these two people who originally bonded over their inability to communicate are now comfortable enough with each other to try actually talking. There's something so shy and so joyful about it. I love that for them, especially Theo.

I don't want him to be alone anymore!! I want him to have someone he can talk to, whom he trusts enough to talk to, who thinks he's worth learning to talk to back!

Their odd brand of bilingual communication (or lack thereof) is just fascinating to me. ;;

#omitb #omitb spoilers #only murders in the building #long post #look I'm not going to pretend to be an expert #I learned to sign from parents and siblings and babysitters and a WHOLE bunch of nuns #some of whom knew ASL and some SEE #I never had formal training because I just learned kind of... organically I guess #and my signing is VERY pidgin #I can talk to my family obviously but I'm never going to call myself an expert #but these are my thoughts at least

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melrosing · 3 months ago

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How do you think Dany will get along with the starks (Bran, Sansa, Arya, Rickon, and Jon)

I think in theory she could get along really well with all of them - but it’s a story so I guess I can only imagine there’ll be some friction somewhere down the line, whether that’s upon initial meetings or further along.

w Jon specifically it’s murky because we don’t know what he’s going to be like once he comes back, so you can’t really gage Dany’s chemistry w a character you can’t anticipate. I imagine him coming back as like…. angrier and more hard-headed, but I don’t think the rest of his story would work if it robbed him of all heart. like Beric still has a tenderness about him as he’s died countless times. so in any case, would imagine the two don’t get along perfectly to start with: Dany finds Jon a strange sort of guy who doesn’t go out of his way to accommodate or appease her, and maybe Jon thinks Dany’s quest for the iron throne is a vanity project compared to what he has on his hands. I do think they’ll become a couple, so presumably they overcome initial impressions to achieve a dialogue and then become closer…. but the whole undead Jon thing really sticks in ur teeth lol like I have NO idea where this couple is headed together. where’s this going george

for the Stark sisters, I think both would naturally be attracted to Dany’s character but it’s only to be expected that they’ll have reservations of their own? Dany has a negative opinion of House Stark owing to Ned’s part in Robert’s Rebellion, whilst the Stark sisters may remember what the Targaryens in turn did to their family. then there’s also the fact that neither Stark sister has had the kindest encounters with queens so far, so I think it would be normal if they’re troubled by a new player arriving out of left field?? but as I say I think both Stark girls would admire Dany: Sansa would think Dany is like some kind of platonic ideal of a queen and I think develop an affection for her as she does Margaery (only more bc she could be surer of Dany’s authenticity) and likewise Arya would be in awe of Dany and all she’s accomplished and hero worship her as she does Nymeria. and Dany is a found family kind of girl who I think would be naturally delighted w two new lil sisters. but all of that’s complicated by the context - this is a story, things get lost in translation, there’s a war going on (actually there’s several), etc etc. so as i say there may still be a great deal of scepticism between the three of them.

Bran and Dany….. I mean Bran is a similar case to Jon. I don’t think he’s going to return as some kind of human computer as he does in the show - Bran’s sweet nature is such a key trait of his, it seems it defeats the point of the character to do away with who he is as a person to better accommodate his powers. and I always saw D&D’s doing this as simply a betrayal of the fact that they’ve never known what to do with Bran, much less once magic is involved. but he’ll still be operating on a separate plane to the other characters and I can only assume the way he engages with Dany will be based on what he sees of her future. and idk what that future is, so like…. idk lol. I do also tend to think that Bran will be one of the last characters to arrive at Winterfell (if indeed that is where he spends TLN). Bran supposedly knows all, and you don’t really introduce a character like that until the others have had time to puzzle it out by themselves. otherwise (per the show) you just have bran coldly watching from the sidelines. anyway, in neutral circumstances i think Bran would get along w Dany as he does everyone, and Dany would adore him in turn uwu

and finally Rickon. tbh I think he will just be pestering her for rides on Drogon and then if she ever obliges he’ll start pestering her for a second ride

#ask #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #sansa stark #arya stark #bran stark #rickon stark #asoiaf

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alilixx · 7 months ago

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Lisa Cuddy X Lawyer Reader (WLW)

NSFW SOMETIMES

First of all, I just want to apologize for any misunderstandings or mistakes. I’m not from America or England, so the laws and conventions are different, etc and english isn't my native language so maybe the translate can't be that good but i did my best. I hope you still enjoy the fanfiction! Okay, so for those who might not understand, the message above was BEFORE I started writing. I’m adding a few things after finishing; I might write a sequel? I’m mostly going to sleep now because I spent my night and day finishing this fanfiction only to end up disappointed. I’m sorry, it’s been over five years since I last wrote a fanfiction, so I’ve lost some of my touch, but I hope you’ll like it. If you have any feedback, please feel free to share it, whether it’s positive or negative, but please do so respectfully! My next fanfictions will be about Hugh Laurie X Reader and then James Wilson X Reader! I won’t say anything more, but I promise to improve for the future. Alilixx

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A few hours after your lunch break, the phone at your office will ring. Your next client hadn't arrived yet, so what was the harm in answering? None, despite the number being strange, you were convinced you recognized it, but from where? After a few seconds of thinking, no answer would come to mind, so you pressed the button to pick up. The voice on the other end seemed familiar until everything clicked. House. A raspy voice on the phone you unfortunately knew quite well greeted you. Politeness would have dictated a "Hello" or something like that, but you didn't. He wasn't stupid; he knew why you weren't responding. Years without speaking after an argument, he didn't expect you to be very friendly with him, not after what he did.

"Listen Y/N, I know you didn't want to hear from me anymore, but I have a problem. I need a… favor, a service from you. I've caused more trouble for Cuddy and unfortunately, I don't have the money for lawyer fees, and neither does Cuddy. I don't want to lose my job, so just this once, help me."

After a few seconds of thinking, you shook your head before sighing and asking one of the last questions of this call, or so you hoped.

"I finish in two hours, stay at the hospital. I'll come after."

You would just hear a simple "Thanks" with what seemed like a smile from House. House smiling? Impossible, you hung up as your client arrived. Another divorce case, people sure get married way too often only to end up giving money to the other after the hate stage. You closed your client's file before grabbing your jacket and keys to head to the hospital, even though you'd rather be in a trial than go there. But seeing House asking for a favor was exceptional. After a good ten minutes, you arrived at the hospital. The reception didn't say anything as you passed by. Apparently, House had already warned people. Should you go to Cuddy's office or House's? After a few seconds of hesitation in the elevator, you decided to go to House's office, and no one was there. As if sending a message was complicated, you stepped back and knocked on Cuddy's office door. With her permission, you slightly opened the door to see several people inside. A woman was seated behind her desk, so Cuddy? The famous House and three other people, one of whom you didn't know, but the other two you did.

"Are you the police interrogating my clients, dear Lopez and Harper? I didn't know you had switched from lawyer to investigator. Unless I'm mistaken and you're doing this illegally? That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

After turning around, the two lawyers who apparently had issues with House tried to come up with an excuse. The only response you gave them was a quick hand gesture towards the door behind you. They left, and you closed the door immediately. Cuddy got up to approach you, extending her hand to introduce herself, and you did the same. The person you didn't recognize smiled kindly at you, though you still couldn't place them.

"Can I know why they were here? I assume it has to do with House, but what did he do?"

Cuddy invited you to sit next to the unknown person, which you did. On the couch opposite were House and Cuddy. You quickly moved your head to see the name tag on the person's lab coat: "Wilson." Apparently, a very good friend of House. Cuddy cleared her throat to speak and crossed her left leg over the other.

"Dr. House… drugged someone to perform tests on them, even though they were healthy… at least nothing has shown up yet. The person contacted their lawyers to file a lawsuit against House."

You simply nodded, wondering why you agreed to this, just for a favor. You would have been better off sticking to divorces. You thought about how to defend this and opened a folder to read some documents. You thanked your education, which might potentially save him.

"I see, I understand the patient's perspective… The context is… unique. I must warn you there will likely be a conflict of interest, but I will remain neutral. It will probably be Judge Schultz, whom I know quite well, so there shouldn’t be any issues. However, the opposing side might use my past friendship with Dr. House as an argument, but that shouldn’t hold up given my reputation. We need the tests to be conclusive and show that the patient actually has something to better defend House. I’m not asking for a fake health report as that would just worsen the situation. I have about twelve strategies to defend House even if the tests aren't positive. So, if the tests are, House will get off with nothing but a fine."

Cuddy nodded while House didn’t seem to care at all, but you were used to that. This wasn’t the first time, and it would have surprised you if it were any different. You started writing down phrases on a sheet of paper before placing it on the small table between the four of you.

"I'll need you all to help fill in the details of my client's situation. Here's the first one: does the opposing side have any concrete evidence that House drugged them?"

Everyone looked at House, who tapped the floor with his cane before shaking his head.

"I don't think so. I used a very small dose so that it wouldn't show up when we ran the tests. So technically, no."

You crossed out the first line and moved on to the next. Thinking as you twirled the pen between your fingers, you crossed out the second phrase without even asking.

"I assume the person doesn't remember the events, so we can play on that. Implied consent… so lack of evidence and implied consent."

Were you as twisted as House for defending him this way? Probably. Was it worse because you were going to win? Probably that too, but it wasn't the time for a moral lesson, so you'd ponder the meaning of life later.

"I can try to use something else to strengthen our case, but it's a double-edged sword. I can argue absence of malicious intent, but… it's House. So, saying House didn't intend harm or that the tests were supposed to be beneficial or necessary in some way. The only problem is there are other ways to run tests, and I assume you already have a significant record for this kind of behavior. Plus, we need to contextualize the actions, and that will put House in the wrong. I don't think we should take that risk."

You crossed out another phrase; you were getting tired of this. Arguing about the patient's mental health but not providing extenuating circumstances for House because… it's House? As if he had no previous run-ins with the law, consent issues, and the problems that followed.

"We're going to play with the justice system and the opposing side, let me explain. I assume there hasn't been an investigation yet. Given the 'hidden' results, let's say, the police won't have anything, so we can play on that. So, 1-0. We can add that the patient has a grudge against House or just wants money given his status as a doctor, so trying to win a lawsuit brings in money. 2-0. And many other points considering legal loopholes and so on. So, we should win the case outright if House keeps a low profile and the results come back positive, proving the patient indeed has something, then House won't face anything except maybe a fine for 'saving a life'… I mean, he's not Superman either."

Cuddy nodded, looking thoughtful, while House seemed indifferent as usual. Wilson appeared both impressed and concerned, knowing House well enough to see the potential fallout. You continued jotting down notes, formulating a plan to navigate this complex case.

You closed your folder once more, placing the sheet inside, and looked at the others. It seemed you had lost Wilson in your explanation. Cuddy remained calm and simply nodded while House acted like his usual fool. You stood up, giving a quick wave of goodbye as you started to walk away from the trio, but you stopped at the door and turned around.

"I'm doing this for free, House, despite our past, but you must keep quiet during the trial. Otherwise, you're on your own. I'm not your mother."

Despite his jaw moving as if to speak, you left the hospital, running into Cameron. You didn't recognize her at first until she threw her arms around you. You gave her a gentle pat on the back. It had been since your cousin's passing that you had last seen her.

"Hey Cameron, how are you? You've aged!"

She gave you a light tap on the back, smiling and nodding. She explained that work was exhausting; after all, she worked for House. You understood completely, feeling the same after about an hour of saving his skin. She loved her job, as did House, but she prioritized her work, so she kept going. After about twenty minutes, you hugged her one last time before leaving, despite feeling someone watching you—probably House. You didn't care about his childish games; you just wanted to go home and rest. Your car was your best friend. Driving home with "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac playing, you couldn't quite pinpoint why you loved the song so much—perhaps because it was a collection of unfinished pieces by the band? After long questions about your own existence, you realized you were already home. Grabbing your things and unlocking the door felt like the longest task of your life. You didn't even have the patience to put your things away, so they ended up on the couch, allowing you to shower and collapse into bed.

Hours passed, and your eyelids grew heavier until you saw "9am" on your alarm clock. Had you really slept, or was it just a sleepless night without realizing it? You were exhausted, but work was calling. Your next hearing was Friday afternoon, and it was Tuesday morning—surely, a day off wouldn't kill anyone, especially after dealing with House. You turned off your alarm for the next few wake-ups and let your heavy head fall back on the pillow, falling asleep once more.

This time, it was around two in the afternoon. Unfortunately, you had to work on a case, so you went through your routine—shower, document review, meal, and a quick walk to stretch your legs. The evening markets were beautiful; you couldn't go often during the week, but why not this time? The argument that kept you there longer was the still-warm cup of hot chocolate in your right hand. The twinkling lights of the stalls and the spicy scents floated in the cool night air. The crowd was dense but cheerful, with laughter and conversations creating a warm symphony that almost warmed you as much as the chocolate you had just finished. You wandered between the stands, stopping here and there to admire the handmade crafts and local products. Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a stand of colorful jewelry. An elderly woman with white hair and sparkling eyes held a delicately crafted silver necklace.

"Good evening," she said, her voice as warm as her smile. "Looking for something special?"

You smiled back, feeling the stress of the day melting away in the vibrant atmosphere of the market. "Just browsing, but this necklace is beautiful. Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, indeed," she replied, her eyes twinkling with pride. "Each piece tells a story. Would you like to hear about this one?"

You nodded, intrigued, as she began to tell the tale behind the necklace, her words weaving a tapestry of history and craftsmanship that made you appreciate the piece even more.

"Do you like it?" she asked, noticing your interest.

"Yes, it's beautiful," you replied, stepping closer.

"It's a unique piece, made with great care," the woman explained. "Every detail tells a story."

You took the necklace in your hands, feeling the reassuring weight of the silver and admiring the intricate patterns. It almost seemed to vibrate with a special energy, as if it contained an ancient secret. You wondered what story it held and why, the moment you saw it, you thought of the woman in the office with House and his friend.

"I'll take it," you declared, determined. The old woman smiled even more and wrapped the necklace in pretty tissue paper before handing it to you. You thanked her and continued your stroll, the necklace safely kept in your bag. As you walked on, you couldn't help but think back to the old woman's words. Every detail tells a story... But why did it make you think of Cuddy? Lost in your thoughts, you didn't immediately notice the familiar figure heading toward you.

It was only when you heard your name that you looked up, surprised to see Cameron with two of her friends. One was an African-American man, about 6 feet tall, with an athletic and slim build reflecting a disciplined and well-cared-for appearance. His features included a square jaw and high cheekbones, giving his face a serious and determined expression. His short, well-groomed black hair accentuated his professional and rigorous look. You noticed his dark brown eyes, often penetrating and expressive. The other man, standing to his right, was a Caucasian, of medium height, around 6 feet tall. He had a lean and athletic build, reflecting an active youth and attention to physical fitness. His facial features were finely chiseled with a square jaw and a straight nose. His light blue eyes were often seen as penetrating and expressive, conveying a mix of curiosity, compassion, and doubt. His blonde hair was neatly styled with a touch of deliberately tousled disorder, giving him a relaxed and approachable look. Cameron gave you a quick wave to come over, which you did, of course, shaking hands with her two friends. The African-American man was Eric Foreman, and the other man was Robert Chase, according to Cameron, her colleagues at work. Though they were very friendly, you remained cautious as they were associated with House, which was the opposite of you.

After the introductions, Cameron smiled warmly at you. "We were thinking of going for a drink. Would you like to join us?"

You hesitated for a moment, but the idea of a relaxing evening was appealing. "Sure, that sounds nice."

The four of you headed to a quaint café-restaurant nearby. The place was cozy, with dim lighting and a welcoming atmosphere. You took a seat at a table by the window, offering a beautiful view of the illuminated square. The conversation started off slowly, with polite exchanges about your respective days. Foreman talked about his interest in neurology, while Chase shared some amusing anecdotes from his time in Australia. Cameron, ever considerate, made sure you felt comfortable and included in the discussion.

Then, the topic inevitably shifted to House. "So, you work with House?" you asked, trying to hide your curiosity behind a polite smile.

Foreman and Chase exchanged a knowing glance. "Yeah, it’s… an experience, let’s say," Chase replied with a wry smile.

"That’s putting it mildly," Foreman added with a nod.

The evening continued in a lighter atmosphere. You shared laughs, stories, and moments of camaraderie. Gradually, you felt more at ease with them, realizing that despite their connections to House, they were passionate and dedicated professionals. As the night progressed, Cameron suggested taking a stroll through the markets before heading home.

"Let’s enjoy the evening a bit more, what do you think?"

You eagerly agreed, happy to extend this pleasant moment. Foreman and Chase joined in, and you found yourselves back among the sparkling lights and enchanting scents of the night markets. Maybe this chance meeting would mark the beginning of a new friendship, or even an unexpected collaboration. Either way, you felt ready to embrace whatever the future might bring, surrounded by these newfound allies.

After a delightful evening with Cameron, Foreman, and Chase, you parted ways with your new friends and headed home. The night was well advanced, and the streets were calm, bathed in the soft glow of street lamps. The return journey allowed you to reflect on the evening and the people you had just met. Arriving home, you closed the door behind you and let out a long sigh of contentment. The warmth and comfort of your apartment enveloped you immediately. You kicked off your shoes and took off your jacket, neatly putting them away before heading to the kitchen. You made yourself a cup of chamomile tea, seeking to relax before bed. With your warm cup in hand, you made your way to the living room and settled on the couch. You took a moment to think about the evening, replaying each conversation and the impressions Foreman and Chase had left on you. They seemed like good people, despite their association with House. Perhaps they deserved a chance.

You placed the empty cup on the coffee table and got ready for bed. In your bedroom, you changed out of your clothes from the day into a comfortable nightshirt. Before sliding under the covers, you took out the necklace you had bought earlier at the market and examined it again. The old woman’s words still echoed in your mind: “Every detail tells a story.” As you observed the necklace in the soft light of your bedside lamp, you wondered what story it might tell. Perhaps this unique piece would hold a special meaning for you, a symbol of this unexpected evening and the new acquaintances you had made. You gently placed the necklace on your nightstand and turned off the lamp, slipping beneath the covers. As you closed your eyes, you felt strangely serene. The fatigue from the day and the soothing warmth of your bed enveloped you, and you drifted off to sleep, already dreaming of future adventures.

The next morning, you woke with the first rays of sunlight filtering through your bedroom curtains. You stretched out, still feeling the previous day's fatigue but also a newfound excitement for the day ahead. After a quick shower and a light breakfast, you felt ready to tackle the new day. You took a moment to examine the necklace again on your nightstand. It seemed even more mysterious in the daylight. Though you were tempted to wear it, you remembered your decision to give it to Cuddy when the time was right. With a smile, you returned the necklace to its box and carefully placed it in a drawer.

As you left your house, you headed towards your workplace. The morning passed quickly with the usual tasks, client meetings, and paperwork. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. The idea of seeing them again seemed increasingly appealing. At lunch break, you received a message from Cameron. She invited you to join the three of them for coffee after work. With a smile, you responded positively, excited about the prospect of getting to know these new people better.

After work, you made your way to the café where you were to meet Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. The place was cozy, with a warm and welcoming atmosphere. You found them seated at a table near the window, waving to you as you walked in. The conversation quickly picked up where you had left off the night before. You discussed various topics, from work challenges to personal hobbies. At one point, Foreman asked about your necklace.

"Oh, it was a spontaneous purchase at the market last night," you said with a smile. "The lady who sold it to me mentioned that every detail tells a story."

"That’s fascinating," Chase said, examining the necklace more closely. "Maybe we should try to uncover that story."

The idea sounded intriguing. "Why not?" you replied. "It could be an interesting activity."

After your coffee, you decided to take a short walk in the area, enjoying the evening’s mild weather. Along the way, you passed an antique shop. Cameron suggested you go inside, thinking the owner might know more about your necklace. Inside the shop, the atmosphere was imbued with old-world charm. The owner, an older man with round glasses, greeted you warmly. You showed him the necklace and explained how you had acquired it. He examined the piece carefully before looking up at you. "This necklace is indeed very special. It comes from an old collection, known for its connections to stories of healing."

You found it quite amusing that Cuddy had come to mind, but why did you think of her? The subject intrigued you more and more. “Really? What else can you tell us about it?”

The shopkeeper smiled and began to recount a fascinating story about the origin of the necklace, its former owners, and the legends surrounding it. You listened intently, mesmerized by the details and mysteries that this simple piece of jewelry seemed to contain. After leaving the shop, you found yourself with Cameron, Foreman, and Chase, discussing the implications of what you had just learned. “I think this necklace might really appeal to Cuddy,” you said with a smile. “I want to give it to her, but I also want to make sure I understand its entire story.”

Cameron nodded. “That’s a lovely idea. And we’d be happy to help you uncover more.”

You smiled gently, touched by Cameron’s kindness. The evening ended on this note of camaraderie and shared enthusiasm. Back at home, you once again put away the necklace, promising yourself to continue exploring its secrets. You were now convinced that this piece of jewelry would play an important role, not only in your future relationship with Cuddy but also in your own adventure.

On Thursday morning, you woke up early, feeling the weight of a busy day ahead. After a quick shower and a light breakfast, you prepared to tackle the last-minute preparations for your client's trial scheduled for the next day. Before leaving your apartment, you took a moment to ensure that all the necessary documents were in order and neatly packed in your briefcase.

At the office, you greeted your colleagues and immediately immersed yourself in work. The morning passed swiftly with dossier reviews, phone calls, and meetings with your legal team. Your assistant brought you a strong coffee, knowing you would need all the energy you could get. Early in the afternoon, you decided to take a break and headed to your usual café, where you had met Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. They were scheduled to join you for a discussion and to help take your mind off the upcoming trial.

When they arrived, you ordered drinks and settled at a quiet table.

The conversation quickly shifted to your work and the upcoming trial. “You must be pretty stressed,” Foreman remarked, studying you closely.

“Yes, that’s the case,” you admitted. “But I’m ready.”

Chase smiled. “You’re one of the best. Your client is in good hands.”

Cameron added, “We’re here to support you. You’re going to do great.”

As the evening approached, you headed back home. After returning to the office, you spent the evening fine-tuning your arguments, reviewing testimonies, and ensuring that all evidence was in order. You felt the pressure mounting, but you were determined to give your all for your client. Around 10 p.m., you decided to go home to rest. You took a hot shower to unwind and made yourself a cup of herbal tea. Before going to bed, you took one last look at your trial notes, re-reading the key points to make sure everything was clear in your mind.

On Friday morning, you woke up with renewed determination. After a quick shower and breakfast, you headed to the courthouse. The atmosphere was tense, but you felt prepared.

At the courthouse, you met with your client and reassured them. “We’re ready. Trust me.”

The trial began, and you focused entirely on your arguments, presenting clear and compelling points. Hours passed in palpable tension, with every word and gesture carrying crucial importance. During breaks, you quickly checked your phone, receiving encouraging messages from Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. Their support gave you the strength to continue with confidence.

Finally, the moment of the verdict arrived. The jury retired to deliberate, and you spent this waiting period with your client, trying to reassure them despite your own stress. When the jury returned with their decision, you stood alongside your client to hear the verdict.

As the verdict was announced, a wave of relief and satisfaction washed over you. Your client was acquitted. You felt an immense sense of pride and gratitude for all the hard work accomplished. After thanking and congratulating your client, you left the courthouse with a sense of accomplishment.

In the evening, after meeting with a client following the verdict, the day had passed quietly. To celebrate, you sent a message to Cameron, Foreman, and Chase, inviting them to meet at the same café to share the good news. They arrived promptly, all smiles and ready to celebrate with you.

"Congratulations!" Cameron exclaimed, hugging you tightly. "You did it!"

Foreman and Chase also offered their congratulations, and you spent the evening chatting, laughing, and enjoying the moment of victory.As you were sitting at a table near the window, you noticed Wilson enter the café. Clearly, he was there for a break after a long day at the hospital. You waved at him, and he approached your table with a smile.

"Hey, everyone!" Wilson said as he approached. "Congratulations on the trial, I heard it went well."

"Thanks, Wilson. Yes, everything went really well," you replied with a smile, still floating on a cloud of victory, even though you didn’t know him very well.

"You did well to celebrate," Wilson added, addressing everyone. "I hope you’re all enjoying your evening."

After exchanging a few pleasantries and congratulations, Wilson left to pick up his coffee order. You resumed your conversation, but you couldn’t help but wonder how Wilson had heard about your success.

When you returned home late that evening, you took a moment to reflect on everything that had happened over the past few days. You knew that new adventures and challenges awaited you, but for now, you allowed yourself to savor this well-deserved victory. Before going to bed, you took a moment to unwind and enjoy the calm after the excitement of the day. You slipped into your bed, exhausted but happy, ready to face whatever the future held.

On Monday morning, back at the hospital, Wilson crossed paths with House in one of the corridors. House, as usual, seemed intrigued by something.

"So, you were at the café last night?" House asked, with an apparently nonchalant tone but with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Wilson nodded. "Yes, I ran into your team and your lawyer there. They were celebrating Y/N’s trial success."

House raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Interesting."

Wilson smiled at House’s evident interest. "You seem quite intrigued, House. Anything to say about it?"

House pretended not to be particularly interested, but he couldn't completely hide his curiosity. "I just wonder how she manages to juggle everything. Maybe there's something else driving her."

As you were heading to the break room for a well-deserved rest, you bumped into House. He looked at you with that enigmatic smile that was so characteristic of him.

"So, the great lawyer wins again," he said with a sarcastic tone, his piercing gaze fixed on you.

"It was a team effort, as always," you replied with a smile.

House shrugged, a mocking expression on his face. "Yeah, that's what they say. But maybe you just got lucky or you slipped under the desk."

You furrowed your brow slightly but maintained your composure. "Yes, luck always plays a role."

House looked at you for a moment, his smile turning into a smirk. "Or maybe your persuasive skills are just a façade. You should really thank your team more often."

You felt a flicker of irritation rise but kept your calm. "I know how to recognize my colleagues' work, House. Thanks for the advice."

House burst into a humorless laugh. "Oh, I’m sure you do. Everyone loves recognition, especially when they’re working for someone as... competent."

Before you could respond, House turned and walked away, his laughter echoing in the corridor. You stood there for a moment, contemplating the interaction. House had a way of hitting on the most sensitive points, and he seemed to enjoy testing your limits. You pushed the confrontation aside for now, thinking that you'd bring it up with Cuddy. As the hour came to return to work and finish your day, your thoughts refocused on your tasks.

Your morning had dragged on so much that it felt like the entire year was crammed into a single day, stretching it out as long as possible. Fortunately, after another two long hours, your lunch break finally arrived. You were exhausted and eager to see Cuddy. After finishing your urgent tasks, you made your way to Cuddy's office. With House's upcoming trial requiring your attention, you needed to meet with her to discuss the strategy and details of the case.

When you knocked on her door, Cuddy motioned for you to come in.

"Hello, Y/N. How are you?" Cuddy asked with a smile.

"Hi, Cuddy. I'm good, thanks. I wanted to discuss House's trial and see if we're all on the same page. I've just finished drafting all the arguments, possible responses, and so on. I'd like you to take a look," you said, taking a seat across from her.

Cuddy nodded. "Sure. I've prepared some additional documents that might be useful in the worst-case scenario."

You spent the next few hours reviewing the case details, strategizing, and discussing potential challenges ahead. Amidst the professional discussions, you briefly mentioned your recent encounter with House.

"Oh, he was particularly irritating today," you said with a smile. "He implied that my persuasive skills were just a façade and that I should thank my team more often, suggesting I used my feminine wiles to win."

Cuddy sighed. "House likes to push people's buttons, especially when he knows they've achieved something important. Don’t let him get to you. He’s just… House."

"I know," you replied. "But sometimes it’s really frustrating."

Cuddy smiled warmly. "You’re doing an excellent job. Don’t let his comments shake you."

After your meeting with Cuddy, you felt better prepared for House’s trial. You took the time to organize your files and review your preparations. Leaving the hospital, you felt confident and ready to face this new challenge, though a part of you remained apprehensive about what House might do during the trial.

When you got home, you took a moment to relax, appreciating the quiet of the evening. You knew the coming days would be intense, but you were ready for the challenge, buoyed by the support of your colleagues and friends. You found yourself reflecting on the afternoon meeting with Cuddy, her encouraging words echoing in your mind. You realized that you valued not only her professional support but also her personal presence. Perhaps she could become a good friend, although you knew she would never see you as more. Cameron was the only one who knew about your attraction to women, especially older ones, so you recognized Cuddy as your vulnerable spot.

On Saturday morning, an idea popped into your head. You remembered that Cuddy had a particular café she liked near the hospital. You decided to stop by and pick up her favorite coffee as a gesture of thanks for her support. Arriving at the café, you ordered two drinks and a pastry that you knew Cuddy liked. With the cups in hand, you headed towards the hospital, hoping that Cuddy would be in her office even on the weekend.

However, as you walked, you realized that giving the items directly to her might be too forward. An idea struck you, and you stopped by a flower shop to buy a bouquet. With the flowers in hand, you returned to the hospital and asked a nurse to deliver everything to Cuddy without mentioning your name. Fortunately, the nurse agreed and took care of your request.

When Cuddy received the coffee, pastry, and flowers, she immediately asked who had sent them. The nurse, respecting your wish for anonymity, provided a brief physical description. Cuddy quickly understood who the gesture was from, but it was too late for her to find you.

Back at home, you collapsed onto your bed, ready to enjoy the weekend. The days passed quietly with workouts, delicious meals, binge-watching shows, and a bit of work to stay on top of things. You felt relaxed and pleased to have made a thoughtful gesture for Cuddy. It was a step forward, and at worst, she might simply tell you she wasn’t interested in women. Unlike House, she wouldn’t insult or belittle people based on their feelings.

As you arrived at the hospital on Monday, your day off, you felt a mix of excitement and apprehension, curious about how Cuddy had reacted to your gesture. You took a deep breath before entering the building and headed towards your office. Shortly after arriving, you received a message from Cuddy asking you to join her in her office. Your heart raced as you made your way there, wondering what she would say.

Upon entering Cuddy's office, you found her sitting at her desk, a mysterious smile on her lips. She gestured for you to take a seat.

"Hello, Y/N. Thank you for the coffee and the flowers," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

You felt a slight flush on your cheeks. "I just wanted to thank you for your support. It’s a small gesture to support House."

Cuddy nodded, still smiling. "It was very kind of you. I wasn’t expecting that."

You took a deep breath, feeling that now was the right moment to make the first move. "Cuddy, I’d really like us to spend more time together outside of work. Maybe dinner or something one evening?"

Cuddy looked at you, considering your proposal. "You know what? I’d like that. How about tonight, after work?"

A bright smile spread across your face, and you nodded enthusiastically. "That would be perfect. Thank you, Cuddy."

After your interaction, you left Cuddy’s office and saw Cameron waiting for you, looking slightly concerned. Since Cameron was the only one aware of your sexuality, you took the opportunity to explain the situation. She smiled warmly, congratulated you, and wished you good luck.

That evening, you met Cuddy at a cozy restaurant, the intimate and warm atmosphere fostering a deeper connection. You talked about everything and nothing, sharing anecdotes and laughter. The professional tension melted away, replaced by a natural camaraderie. At the end of the dinner, as you both walked to your cars, Cuddy turned to you, her eyes shining in the streetlamp light.

"This was really nice," she said softly. "I’m glad we did this."

You smiled, feeling a sense of contentment and hope. "Me too. I’ve really enjoyed it."

As you parted ways, you felt a sense of optimism about where this might lead. You knew it was just the beginning, but it was a promising start.

"Thank you for the evening, Y/N. It’s been a long time since I had such a good time," Cuddy said softly, her smile warm and genuine.

You felt a pleasant warmth spread through your heart. "Me too, Cuddy. I’m really glad we did this."

There was a brief silence before, making a brave decision, she leaned in slightly and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Good night, Y/N."

She smiled at you, a tender glint in her eyes. "Good night, Cuddy. See you soon."

As she walked away, you were left momentarily stunned by her gesture. A kiss on the cheek? What was that supposed to mean? Was it just a friendly gesture or something more? You found yourself debating with your inner thoughts, trying to make sense of it. Frustrated with your own confusion, you decided to head to a nearby bar for a few drinks to clear your mind.

A few drinks turned into several, and by the time you stumbled back home, you were slightly tipsy. After a quick shower to wash away the remnants of the evening, you collapsed into bed. Despite your exhaustion, your mind replayed the evening over and over, unable to settle. The new level of your relationship with Cuddy had opened a door to unknown possibilities, and you were eager to see where it might lead.

The day of the trial arrived faster than expected. You knew it would be a challenging day, but with your recent experiences and the support of your colleagues, you felt prepared to face whatever lay ahead. As you entered the courtroom, you reminded yourself of the strength and confidence you had built over the past weeks. You could do this.

The courtroom was tense, but you focused on your preparations and the strategy you and Cuddy had developed. With each passing moment, you felt more centered and determined to deliver your best performance.

During a break in the trial, you caught a glimpse of Cuddy in the hallway. She gave you a reassuring nod, and you felt a surge of encouragement. Whatever the outcome, you knew you had given it your all.

The day of the trial arrived. Dr. Gregory House finds himself on trial for allegedly drugging a patient, Mr. Richard Moore, in order to have him undergo a series of medical tests without his consent. Although these tests ultimately revealed that Mr. Moore suffered from lupus, he claims to have no memory of the period during which the tests were performed, and he accuses House of having drugged and kidnapped him.

The trial began in a crowded courtroom, the case having attracted a lot of attention. The judge opened the proceedings, and the prosecution and defense attorneys presented their opening arguments. The prosecution attorney stood up and described in detail the charges brought against House, insisting on the psychological trauma suffered by Mr. Moore and the illegality of House's actions.

You stood up to present the defense arguments, immediately highlighting the lack of concrete evidence and the importance of the vital diagnosis obtained through the tests performed by House. You emphasized the absence of malicious intent and the life-saving nature of the intervention. Mr. Moore testified by describing his state of confusion and memory loss. He expressed his hatred towards House, claiming that he had been abducted and drugged against his will.

You began by sympathizing with Mr. Moore, acknowledging the pain and confusion he was experiencing. Then, you pointed out the inconsistencies in his account due to his fuzzy memory and highlighted the absence of tangible evidence. You asked him if he remembered specific moments when he might have been drugged, to which he answered negatively. House testified by explaining his actions from the medical point of view. He described the symptoms observed in Mr. Moore that had led him to suspect lupus and insisted that he had acted to save his life.

The prosecution attorney tried to show that House had exceeded his prerogatives, but you intervened regularly to object and protect House from biased questions. You had called several medical experts who confirmed that Mr. Moore's symptoms were consistent with lupus and that the early diagnosis had probably saved his life. They also explained that, without these tests, the lupus could have remained undiagnosed, putting Mr. Moore's life in serious danger. The prosecution attorney concluded by insisting on the lack of consent and the trauma experienced by Mr. Moore. He asked the jury to consider the violation of his client's rights.

You stood up for your closing argument, summarizing the key points: the lack of concrete evidence demonstrating that House had drugged Mr. Moore, Mr. Moore’s confusion and amnesia making his testimony unreliable, the absence of malicious intent on House's part, and finally, the vital importance of the lupus diagnosis obtained through the tests performed. You concluded by emphasizing that House had saved Mr. Moore's life and that his actions, although controversial, were guided by a legitimate medical concern.

After deliberations, the jury returned with a verdict. The judge spoke to announce the decision, "After examining the evidence and testimonies, the jury has concluded that the charges against Dr. Gregory House have not been proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Dr. House is therefore acquitted of all charges." Everyone was leaving, including House, Cuddy, Wilson, and yourself. You took the opportunity to step away from the crowd with them.

House turned to you with a smirk. "Well done, Y/N. I knew you'd rise to the occasion to defend the best doctor."

You felt relieved and proud of the work accomplished. "Thank you, House. Now, I hope you’ve learned your lesson and will be more careful in the future."

House shrugged. "We’ll see if I listened to the conversation."

You sighed, letting the stress go, satisfied with the outcome and ready to face the next challenges that House would present.

The month that followed was relatively pleasant. You had good times with Cameron and her friends, Foreman and Chase, outside of work. Evening outings, dinners, and lively conversations brought some joy to your routine. However, despite these good times, you felt a void every time you came home. Something was missing, a presence or a deeper connection. One evening, after yet another outing, you decided to take the bull by the horns. You invited Cameron to your place for a one-on-one discussion. Sitting in your living room, you revealed what you were feeling, hoping to find some clarity and perhaps some advice. To your surprise, Cameron began to smile and then to laugh softly. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by her reaction, you looked at her, searching for an explanation. "Why are you laughing?" you asked.

Cameron, still smiling, replied: "Don't worry, you'll understand in a few days. Trust me."

The next day, while you were immersed in your work at the office, your phone rang. On the other end of the line, a receptionist from a certain hospital where Cameron worked informed you that Dr. Lisa Cuddy wanted to see you. Intrigued and curious, you accepted the appointment, wondering what it could mean. On your way to the hospital, you decided to bring some coffees, one for yourself and one for Cuddy, hoping to create a relaxed atmosphere for your meeting.

Entering Cuddy's office, you were greeted by her professional yet warm smile. She thanked you for the coffee and invited you to sit down. After a few polite exchanges, she addressed the main topic of your meeting.

"Y/N, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to come here," she began. "House is once again involved in trouble. I was impressed by your defense in his last trial, and I would like to offer you the opportunity to become his official attorney."

You were stunned by the proposal. Becoming House's permanent attorney meant constant responsibility and frequent challenges, but it was also a unique opportunity.

Cuddy, noticing your hesitation, added: "I understand that this is an important decision. You can continue to manage your practice and only come here when necessary."

After a moment of reflection, you realized that this offer might address the void you were feeling. Accepting this role would allow you to continue practicing law while staying connected to a stimulating and dynamic environment. With renewed determination, you looked up at Cuddy and nodded. "Okay, I accept. I will be House's official attorney."

Leaving the hospital that day, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had just taken a major turn in your career, a turn that not only brought you closer to professional challenges but also to people you were beginning to consider close friends.

The following month promised to be full of surprises and new adventures, and you were ready to face them with new determination. After accepting Cuddy's offer, you found yourself often thinking about her. These thoughts were not purely professional; you realized that your feelings went beyond mere admiration. However, accepting these feelings was not easy for you. You had never really embraced your sexuality, and the prospect of being attracted to a woman, especially a colleague, deeply troubled you.

One evening, after a long day at work, Cameron came to visit you. She had noticed your distress and wanted to help you gain some clarity. You both settled comfortably in your living room, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

"You seem preoccupied lately," she said gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You hesitated for a moment but decided to confide in her about your suppressed feelings for Cuddy. Cameron listened attentively, without judgment, and reassured you with her soothing, calming voice.

"You know, Y/N, it's not easy to accept certain things about oneself," she began. "But your feelings are natural. It's not a matter of gender; it's about love and connection."

She then suggested an idea to help you open up further. "How about coming to a karaoke night with me? It might help take your mind off things and allow you to relax a bit."

What you didn’t know was that Cameron had a more elaborate plan in mind. She wanted to give you an opportunity to get closer to Cuddy in a natural setting. After you agreed to the karaoke, she contacted Wilson to help set up an unexpected meeting.

"Wilson, I need your help," she said on the phone. "Can you invite Cuddy to a karaoke this weekend without telling her that Y/N will be there? I think it could help both of them."

Wilson, always eager to assist his friends, agreed enthusiastically. He knew how beneficial this meeting could be for both of you.

On Saturday evening, you prepared with a certain nervousness for the karaoke night. Cameron picked you up, and you both headed to the bar where the event was taking place. Upon entering, you were pleasantly surprised by the warm and relaxed atmosphere of the place. Meanwhile, Cuddy, persuaded by Wilson to come out for a pleasant evening, arrived shortly after you. She had no idea what awaited her.

As you sipped your drink and chatted with Cameron, you noticed Cuddy walking into the bar. Your heart leaped in your chest. You turned to Cameron, eyes wide. She gave you a knowing wink.

"Relax," she whispered. "Enjoy the evening."

Wilson approached Cuddy and explained that he had invited someone else she might find interesting. He discreetly pointed in your direction. Cuddy made her way over, a curious smile on her lips.

"Good evening, Y/N, Cameron," she said as she joined your table. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

As the evening progressed, the songs played, laughter erupted, and the atmosphere became increasingly relaxed. You felt your barriers gradually melting away, encouraged by Cameron's reassuring presence and Cuddy's warm attention.

At one point, Cuddy suggested that you sing a duet. The song choice was a soft and melodic ballad, "Creep" by Radiohead, which brought you even closer together. As you sang side by side, you exchanged glances and smiles that spoke volumes. Of course, Cameron wouldn’t let this slip by and later made you sing "Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge. Even during the karaoke session, she noticed your lingering glances towards Cuddy during the chorus, which said a lot.

The karaoke night was a success. Thanks to Cameron and her ingenious plan, you had the opportunity to get closer to Cuddy in a relaxed and friendly setting. When you returned home that night, you felt more at peace with yourself and more confident about your feelings. Cameron had given you the push you needed to embrace who you were and what you felt. Now, you were ready to explore this new dimension of your life with greater serenity and openness, though you had to be cautious about House finding out. You weren’t ready yet to discuss this or face any potential insults from him.

The days following the karaoke night were marked by a subtle but significant change. Your interactions with Cuddy became more frequent, not only due to hospital legal matters but also through spontaneous moments of camaraderie. You were getting to know each other beyond the professional setting, and each conversation strengthened this budding connection. Each morning, you developed the habit of bringing Cuddy a coffee before starting your day, spending much more time at the hospital than at your office. It was a simple but meaningful gesture that quickly became a ritual for both of you. You often found yourselves in her office discussing current hospital affairs, but these moments also turned into opportunities to share personal anecdotes and enjoy each other's company.

One morning, while sipping her coffee, Cuddy gave you a grateful look. “You know, Y/N, these little moments of respite really make a difference in my day. It helps me forget that House is here and working for me.”

You smiled, touched by her words. “For me too, Lisa... Cuddy.”

Your exchanges weren’t limited to the morning coffees. Lunches also became an opportunity to get closer. Whether at the hospital cafeteria or in a small neighborhood restaurant, every shared meal strengthened your bond. You spent much less time with the trio, but it apparently didn’t bother them.

One day, while enjoying a salad at a sunny café, Cuddy asked you an unexpected question. “How did you decide to become a lawyer?” Surprised by the question but pleased by her interest, you shared your journey, including the impact of your cousin's death, the challenges you had overcome, and the motivations that led you to choose this career. Cuddy listened intently, her eyes expressing deep curiosity and sincere respect.

There were also times when your days extended beyond office hours. Sometimes, you would go for a drink after work, sharing moments of relaxation where professional concerns gave way to lighter and more intimate conversations. One evening, in particular, stood out. After a particularly stressful day, Cuddy suggested unwinding at a cocktail bar near the hospital. Sitting at the counter, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the events of the day fade with each sip of your drink.

“Sometimes, I wonder how you manage to stay so calm and composed, even though you’re very authoritative,” you said, observing Cuddy.

She chuckled softly. “It’s a façade, believe me. But having friends and moments like these really helps.”

As the weeks passed, you developed a relationship of mutual trust. Cuddy confided in you about the challenges of her position as hospital director, and you found in her a valuable listener for your own concerns. This dynamic of reciprocal support was new and comforting for you.

One afternoon, after returning from the courthouse, you found Cuddy sitting at her desk, visibly exhausted. Without a word, you took a seat across from her and pulled out a small box of chocolates you had bought with her in mind.

“For a little pick-me-up,” you said with a smile.

Cuddy looked up, clearly touched by your gesture. “You’re my savior, love. Thank you.”

The word “love” resonated within you like a gentle echo. You felt your cheeks flush slightly. This endearing nickname, filled with tenderness and affection, stirred feelings you had tried to suppress. Your heart quickened, and you suddenly became acutely aware of every small detail of the situation: the soft light in the office, Cuddy’s sincere gaze, and the pleasant warmth of the chocolates in your hands. Trying to control your emotions, you responded with a slightly trembling but sincere voice, “I… I’m glad you liked it, Lisa. You do so much for everyone here, it’s only natural for someone to take care of you too.”

Cuddy smiled and briefly took your hand, a simple yet deeply meaningful gesture. “Thank you, really.”

After this exchange, you spent the rest of the day in a state of deep reflection. This sweet nickname and Cuddy’s attention only reinforced the feelings you were beginning to understand and accept. You found yourself smiling for no apparent reason, replaying that moment over and over in your mind.

In the evening, you decided to talk to Cameron about what you had felt. She listened attentively, her gaze full of understanding.

"You see, Y/N," she said gently, "sometimes you just have to let things happen. Cuddy really values you, and it seems she’s starting to feel something for you too. There’s nothing wrong with exploring these feelings."

You nodded, feeling a mix of hope and nervousness. "Yes, you're right. I suppose I just need to be patient and see how things develop."

In the following days, you continued to offer your support to Cuddy, and she did the same for you. Each exchange, each gesture of affection reinforced your bond. The nickname "love" became a kind of shared secret, a constant reminder of the growing affection between you.

In the end, you realized that these feelings, although unsettling at first, were a natural part of your life. And with Cameron’s support and the patience you were showing, you knew you were on the right path to building something beautiful and lasting with Cuddy. As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself eagerly anticipating each meeting with Cuddy. She had become more than just a colleague or client; she had become a cherished friend, and perhaps, something more.

For now, you allowed yourself to be carried along by this new adventure, savoring each moment and letting things evolve naturally. The future remained uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, you felt ready to face it, with an open heart and a serene mind.

Everything was going well between you and Cuddy. The morning exchanges, the lunches, the moments of complicity were multiplying. You felt increasingly comfortable with your feelings, encouraged by Cameron’s advice and Cuddy’s kindness. But one day, an unexpected event was about to turn everything upside down. It was an ordinary day until an accident occurred in the hospital. A cart full of files toppled over in the hallway, and among the scattered papers, a personal note from Cuddy to you fell to the ground. House, passing by by chance, picked up the note before you could react. That evening, as you were finishing your day, you were intercepted by House in a deserted corridor. He had a smug grin plastered on his face and the note in hand.

“So, Y/N, having fun with Cuddy?” he started, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You felt your stomach knot. “Give me that, House. It’s none of your business.”

He waved the note in front of you, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, but it becomes my business when you drag your romantic issues into MY hospital.”

House moved closer, his expression hardening. “Seriously, do you think she sees you as anything more than a distraction? A little toy to pass the time?” He snickered. “You’re pathetic, trailing around like a puppy craving attention.”

You felt anger rising in you, but also a chilling fear. “That’s not true, House. You don’t know anything.” He burst into laughter, a cold and cruel laugh. “Oh, I know more than you imagine. Cuddy’s playing with you, and you’re too stupid to realize it. You think she loves you?” His tone grew more venomous. “She keeps you around for her little emotional emergencies. She doesn’t need you; she doesn’t need anyone.”

House stepped back slightly, looking you up and down. “Seriously, do you think someone like you could interest her? She could have anyone, and she’d choose a pathetic, lost lawyer? You’re laughable.”

Each word felt like a punch. You wanted to defend yourself, but the words got stuck in your throat.

“Look at yourself,” House continued. “A poor girl seeking affection. You’re a walking failure, trash no one wants. And when Cuddy’s had enough of you, she’ll toss you away like an old rag.”

These words hit you like a ton of bricks. You felt your eyes welling up with tears, but you refused to let them fall in front of him. Summoning all the courage you could muster, you took a step forward.

"You’re wrong, House. What Cuddy and I have is real. What you say doesn’t change that."

He looked you over for a moment, then shrugged indifferently. "Believe what you want. But remember my words when she dumps you."

House turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you alone in the hallway, emotions bubbling inside you.

You stood there, trembling with anger and pain, House’s cruel words echoing in your mind. But deep down, you knew you had to stay strong. No matter what he said, you had feelings for Cuddy and you had to fight for them. This brutal confrontation with House was just another hurdle to overcome, and with the support of Cuddy and Cameron, you knew you could get through it.

After the confrontation with House, you felt devastated and overwhelmed by emotions. You knew you couldn’t go home in this state. You headed up to the hospital roof, a quiet place where you could think and collect yourself. Sitting on a bench, you let the tears flow, recalling every venomous word House had said. You knew he had a talent for hitting where it hurt, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Doubts crept into your mind, shaking your confidence in yourself and in your relationship with Cuddy.

After a few minutes of solitude, you took out your phone and dialed Cameron’s number. She had always been a valuable support for you, and you knew she would find the right words to comfort you.

"Cameron, it’s Y/N. I need to talk. Can you come up to the roof of the hospital?" you said, your voice trembling.

“I'm coming right away,” she replied, her tone full of concern.

A few minutes later, Cameron arrived on the roof, her face showing deep worry. She sat down beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

You told her everything, from the accident that allowed House to find the note to his cruel and hurtful remarks. Cameron listened attentively, her expression hardening as you spoke.

“House can be really mean sometimes,” she said finally. “But he doesn’t know anything about what you truly feel for Cuddy, or what Cuddy feels for you. Don’t let him tear you down.”

Cameron's words provided some comfort. She was right. House had no right to judge your relationship with Cuddy, and he knew nothing about what you shared. You felt a bit stronger, ready to face the situation with more clarity. Unfortunately, you decided not to tell Cuddy, not wanting to disturb her or seem strange. So you distanced yourself a bit until she came to see you, at which point you had no choice but to talk to her and explain EVERYTHING. You hoped that this conversation would further strengthen your bond. You took a deep breath and sat down across from her.

“I need to talk to you about something that happened a few days ago.”

You told her everything, from the accident with the files to the confrontation with House. Cuddy listened attentively, her expression growing more serious.

“House really crossed the line this time,” she said finally, anger evident in her voice. “I’m sorry you had to endure that, but next time, come to me about it.”

You nodded. “I don’t want to let his words affect us. I really care about you, Lisa.”

Cuddy smiled gently and took your hand in hers. "Me too, Y/N. Don’t let House make you doubt what we have."

The conversation with Cuddy gave you a renewed sense of determination. No matter what House said or did, you were resolved to fight for this relationship. With Cuddy and Cameron’s support, you knew you could overcome obstacles and continue building something beautiful and lasting.

In the following days, you felt stronger and more determined than ever. You continued to work hard, support Cuddy, and grow closer to her. Each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and you knew you were on the right path toward something truly special. The road ahead was still long, but with Cuddy by your side, you felt ready to face any challenges. You were determined not to let House’s cruel words bring you down and to keep moving forward, day by day.

Your relationship with Cuddy improved even more over the weeks. Conversations became more intimate, and shared moments grew more significant. During meetings and coffee breaks, you exchanged knowing glances that often spoke louder than words. Cuddy sometimes made thoughtful gestures, like bringing you your favorite coffee or carving out time in her busy schedule to chat. Cameron, true to her playful nature, never missed an opportunity to highlight these little moments. "So, did you have your daily tête-à-tête with Cuddy?" she would say with a mischievous wink. Each time, you would blush slightly, but you also appreciated these teases that made your feelings seem even more real and tangible.

One day, you found yourself confronting House in his office. The tension was palpable. House was particularly irritable that day, and you had heard about his ruthless behavior towards your patients, especially your cousin. Your cousin had come to the hospital with severe abdominal pain, and House, in a fit of personal anger and contempt, had delayed the necessary tests.

"You should behave better for someone who’s a total jerk. How could you let my cousin die without even trying to save him years ago just because you had a grudge against me?" you exploded, entering House’s office without knocking.

House looked up from his desk, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "Oh, so you’re here to mourn poor patients? What a charitable person you are! You’re here to blame me? Maybe if your cousin hadn’t been so stupid, he’d still be alive."

Those words were the last straw. You felt a searing rage rise within you. "How dare you? You don’t even know what you’ve done. You were so consumed by your own anger and selfishness that you didn’t even take the time to treat him properly!"

House stood up from his chair, his face hardening. "Your cousin was a hopeless case anyway. Maybe if he hadn’t been so weak, he would have survived."

You clenched your fists, your voice trembling with fury and pain. "My cousin was Cameron’s husband!"

The words thundered through the room, and only after they left your mouth did you regret it; you had promised to keep that a secret. House froze for a few seconds, his eyes widening in shock. For once, he seemed unsettled, as if a brutal truth had just hit him in the face. At the same moment, Cameron was passing by House’s office. She had stopped, hearing the raised voices inside. When she heard your declaration, she carefully opened the door, her eyes shifting from you to House, a silent pain on her face.

House quickly regained his composure, though his tone was sharper than ever. "Oh, I see. So you’re here to whine because your cousin didn’t survive? Newsflash, Y/N, people die. This is a hospital, not a fairy tale."

Cameron entered the room, her face pale but determined. "House, that's enough."

He turned his gaze toward her, a cruel smile on his lips. "Oh, look who’s joining the party. Are you here to support your grieving cousin? It’s touching, but he’s not coming back after all these years."

You felt tears welling up, but you refused to let them fall, and the urge to punch him was overwhelming. "You’re a monster, House. You have no idea what it’s like to lose someone so close because you’re a lifeless jerk whom nobody likes."

House shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Loss is a part of life, sweetheart. Get used to it, because I don’t sleep with my boss for bonuses."

Seeing you raising your arm toward House in anger, Cameron stepped in, grabbing you by the arm. "Come on, Y/N, let’s get out of here. He doesn’t deserve you getting worked up like this."

You left House’s office, still trembling with rage and sadness. Cameron embraced you, offering the silent support you desperately needed. You moved away from that place of conflict, leaving House behind with his arrogance and insensitivity. This painful confrontation further strengthened your bond with Cameron. She understood your pain better than anyone and shared your anger toward House. Together, you found comfort in each other’s support, growing even closer through this difficult ordeal.

Even though Cameron continued to have feelings for House despite learning about his refusal to treat her husband’s case, you both relied on each other. That evening, reflecting on the confrontation, you realized how much you cared for Cuddy and Cameron. Their unconditional support was an anchor in the storm of your emotions, and despite House’s cruelty, you were surrounded by people who truly cared about you. You took a deep breath, determined to continue fighting for your loved ones, to overcome obstacles, and not to let House’s nastiness destroy you.

The days following that confrontation were emotionally charged. The tension between you and House was palpable, but you could always count on Cameron for support. Interactions with Cuddy became even more precious, her smiles and soothing words helping to ease the weight of your emotions. Your relationship with Cuddy was deepening. One afternoon, as you were working in your office, you received a message from her: "Need a coffee break? Join me in my office."

You smiled and headed to her office. When you arrived, you found her seated with two cups of coffee and a box of macarons. "I thought we might need these treats to get through the day," she said, handing you a cup. You chatted about various topics, sharing anecdotes and laughter. Cuddy seemed more relaxed in your company, and you realized that these moments had become essential to you.

One evening, after work, Cameron invited you over to her place to talk. Sitting on her couch with a glass of wine in hand, she brought up a sensitive subject. "You know,Y/N, I’ve noticed that you’re getting quite close to Cuddy. It’s wonderful to see that, but I sense something is holding you back."

You looked down, hesitant to admit your repressed feelings. "Cameron, I... I think I have feelings for her, but I don’t know how to handle them. I’ve never accepted being a lesbian."

Cameron looked at you with compassion. "There’s nothing wrong with being who you are. You deserve to be happy, and if Cuddy makes you happy, you should tell her. Take your time, but don’t let fear stop you from living fully." You simply nodded, and the evening continued at her place until you fell asleep in front of a movie with her.

After a long day at work, you decided to go to Cuddy’s office to discuss some important points related to a file. Upon entering her office, you found her organizing papers, her focus on the work in front of her. The atmosphere was relaxed, and the soft lighting in the office created a pleasant ambiance.

You lightly knocked on the door before entering. "Hi, Cuddy. I had a few questions regarding our file."

Cuddy looked up, a smile forming on her lips. "Ah, Y/N. I always wonder why important questions seem to come at the end of the day."

You smiled and placed the documents on her desk. "Maybe it’s to give you a chance to test your multitasking skills."

Cuddy pretended to look outraged. "Oh, I see. So now I’m expected to juggle medical emergencies and your questions. Why not throw in some cannonballs while we’re at it?"

You laughed, appreciating the light tone of the conversation. "Well, you’re the hospital director. I suppose juggling cannonballs is part of the job description."

Cuddy rolled her eyes with a smile. "I guess I haven’t received that manual yet. But seriously, what’s the issue with this file?"

You took a deep breath and decided to make a slightly bolder comment with a touch of humor. "Well, I just wanted to check if your problem-solving superpower is as effective outside of the office."

Cuddy leaned forward, her gaze amused. "Oh, really? And what would my superpower be, according to you?"

You tilted your head with a mischievous smile. "You know, the ability to handle crises and make things simpler even when they seem impossible. But I have to admit, you might also be a coffee superhero, considering how you’re always full of energy."

Cuddy burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Oh, you're incorrigible. But if you insist, I suppose I should also accept the compliments on my ability to make the perfect coffee."

You nodded with a knowing smile. "Absolutely. I’m ready to give you a 10 out of 10 for your caffeine skills, in addition to your management talents."

Cuddy gave you a playful look before picking up a coffee cup from her desk. "In that case, it looks like I’ll have to make you a special coffee to reward you for your praise."

You thanked Cuddy with a smile, and the conversation took on an even more relaxed and friendly tone. Moments of teasing like this were becoming increasingly common, strengthening the bond between you. With her humor and kindness, Cuddy had become a key pillar in your daily life, making even the busiest days more enjoyable. The discussion continued in a light-hearted manner, filled with laughter and friendly exchanges. You left Cuddy’s office with a sense of well-being, ready to face the rest of the day with a smile on your lips.

A few days after the heartfelt conversation in the office, you both had taken a day off together. Cuddy had used the opportunity to invite you to her home, away from the constraints of work and regular responsibilities. It had been a while since you had the chance to spend an evening together without thinking about your professional obligations.

As you entered Cuddy’s house, you immediately felt a warm and inviting atmosphere. The interior was impeccably decorated with personal touches, creating an ambiance of comfort and tranquility.

Cuddy greeted you with a sincere smile, her presence radiating a soothing warmth. "Welcome to my home, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here. Make yourself comfortable; dinner is almost ready."

You settled at the table, where a homemade meal awaited you. The conversation during dinner was smooth and enjoyable, far removed from the usual work topics. You exchanged memories, funny anecdotes, and personal stories. Cuddy shared tales from her childhood, while you recounted amusing moments from your own life. Laughter filled the room, and the barriers between you seemed to dissolve with each passing moment.

Cuddy, in her role as the perfect host, was attentive and engaged. "Do you remember the time I tried to cook a meal for a birthday party, and everything ended up burning?" she asked, laughing.

You nodded with a smile. "Yes, I remember! I was there, and it was a complete disaster, but we had so much fun that night."

Once dinner was over and the dishes were put away, Cuddy suggested watching a movie. "I’ve heard that Die Hard is pretty good. What do you think?"

Your face lit up at the idea of watching a classic film. "Absolutely, I love that movie!"

Cuddy headed to the kitchen to prepare some popcorn, while you made yourself comfortable in the living room. She returned with a large bowl of popcorn and settled next to you on the couch. You both got cozy, and the relaxed atmosphere contrasted with the usual work tensions.

As you watched Die Hard, the film captured your attention with its thrilling action, suspense, and humor. Cuddy occasionally commented on the scenes, making amusing observations about the absurd situations and exaggerated characters.

"See that moment when he jumps through the windows?" she said with a laugh. "I’m sure we’ve all dreamed of doing that during a stressful day at work."

You burst into laughter, sharing her amusement. "Absolutely, and then there are always those moments where you wonder how they manage to avoid serious injuries."

You continued to comment on the movie, your rapport growing as the evening progressed. Laughter and playful banter made the night enjoyable and light-hearted, providing a welcome break from everyday concerns. When the film ended, you both remained on the couch for a while, discussing your favorite scenes and the funniest moments. The atmosphere was both relaxed and intimate, deepening the bond between you.

Cuddy got up to turn off the TV, then turned to you with a gentle smile. "I hope you had a good evening. I really enjoyed this time together."

You responded with sincerity. "I did too; it was a perfect evening. Thank you for inviting me."

She approached you softly and gave you a friendly hug. "I’m glad you came. I think we should do this more often."

You spent a little more time chatting before saying goodnight. As you left Cuddy’s house, you felt calm and happy, with a newfound appreciation for the growing connection between you. The evening had not only strengthened your bond but also deepened the budding feelings you had for each other. You sat in your car for a few minutes, reflecting on what you truly felt. The night had been perfect, but something crucial was missing for you to be completely at peace. Finally, you took a deep breath, got out of the car, and headed back to Cuddy’s door. As you rang the doorbell, you felt your heart race, each step bringing you closer to your truth. Cuddy answered, visibly surprised to see you return.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" she asked, her eyes showing both confusion and concern.

You hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "You know, Cuddy… Lisa, I can’t leave without telling you something important. I… I love you more than just as a friend. I have feelings for you."

Cuddy looked at you attentively, surprise evident in her eyes. "Oh… I…"

"It’s been almost a year since we’ve known each other, and I can’t let this chance slip by, even if I’m not completely sure about embracing being gay," you continued, your heart pounding. "I’m willing to risk being rejected by you. I love you, Lisa Cuddy."

Cuddy remained silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours with intensity. Her face softened slightly, but her eyes remained serious. "Y/N, I want to believe you. But you need to be honest with yourself and with me. Are you really ready to face your own feelings?"

She sighed softly and placed a comforting hand on your cheek, her touch bringing a soothing warmth. "I just want to protect you, Y/N. So, be careful… okay?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and concern at her understanding. "Thank you, Lisa, for understanding my feelings."

Cuddy looked at you intensely, her eyes betraying a depth of emotion. "Y/N, you know I care about you… more than you realize."

Before you could react or say anything further, Cuddy leaned in slowly and kissed you. The kiss was both tender and intense, filled with the feelings you had both been holding back. You stood there for a moment, surprised and motionless, before responding timidly. Your hands instinctively found their way around Cuddy's neck, while her lips were comforting and burning with passion.

The kiss deepened, Cuddy intensifying it with a tenderness and fervor that expressed everything she had wanted to say without words. The sensation was both familiar and new, awakening complex emotions within you. Sensing your hesitant yet sincere response, Cuddy continued the kiss, trying to convey all she had never been able to express aloud. When you finally separated, you were breathing slightly heavily, your eyes shining with confusion and desire. With her forehead resting against yours, Cuddy whispered softly, "Think carefully about what you want, Y/N. I will always be here for you."

You felt torn between the familiarity of the gesture and the novelty of the emotions it stirred within you. Cuddy had opened a door to a new dimension of your relationship, offering both comfort and upcoming challenges. As you gently parted from Cuddy, you left the door open for deeper reflection on what you truly wanted, all while appreciating the sincere affection and patience she was showing you.

After the emotional kiss with Cuddy, you lingered on her doorstep for a moment, your mind full of confusing thoughts and conflicting feelings. You felt both comforted and unsettled by the depth of affection Cuddy had expressed, and the intensity of the moment continued to resonate within you. Cuddy, with a reassuring gesture, allowed you the time to process what had just happened.

The following days were marked by intense introspection. You spent a lot of time reflecting on your feelings for Cuddy and what they meant for you. The nature of your emotions seemed increasingly clear, but you still had to face personal questions about your identity and desires. While respecting your space, Cuddy made efforts to remain available and open. She sent friendly messages to check in and suggested informal get-togethers to discuss anything but your recent exchanges. These moments were light-hearted, allowing you to feel at ease while exploring your own feelings.

Despite the emotional storm in your personal life, work continued. You remained focused on your tasks, but it was inevitable that the tension between you and Cuddy became a topic of discussion outside the professional sphere. Colleagues and friends, including Cameron, noticed the change in your way of working and interacting with Cuddy, but you preferred to keep the details private.

One day, as you were working in your office, absorbed in preparing a file, House burst in, his usual nonchalant demeanor hiding a mischievous curiosity.

"So, how's it going with Cuddy?" he asked with a false lightness, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You looked up, feeling a wave of discomfort. "I’d prefer not to talk about it, House."

House, unperturbed, continued. "Oh, I see. You're a bit smitten, aren't you? You know, there's something quite pathetic about desperately seeking approval."

Frustrated by his insinuations, you retorted, "And what does that have to do with you, House? Why are you so interested? You've never been able to maintain a decent relationship. So what do you really know about what I’m feeling?"

House, visibly amused by your reaction, crossed his arms and leaned slightly toward you. "Oh, I see. The truth bothers you. Maybe you need to remind yourself that you're nothing more than a mere pawn in the grand game of human emotions. And if you're looking for love advice, I might be the last person you should ask."

You felt a wave of anger rise within you, unable to endure his biting sarcasm. "You don’t know anything about me or what I’m feeling. Maybe you just enjoy playing the villain to feel superior. You don’t understand real emotions."

Despite his impassive appearance, House seemed slightly surprised by the intensity of your reaction. He took a step back, crossing his arms with a cynical smile still present on his face. "Oh, I see this touches you more than I thought."

He leaned in again, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Maybe I'm a bit too blunt for your taste. But don’t worry, I'm not here to judge you. I'm just here to remind people that the world isn't a warm and comforting place, no matter what they’d like to believe."

The intensity of the confrontation began to wane. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the internal storm. "Listen, House, I don’t want to continue this discussion if it’s going nowhere. I’m just tired of these word games and constant sarcasm. Maybe we should just forget this conversation and move on."

Seeing that the argument wouldn’t lead to anything constructive, House nodded with a smirking yet slightly more conciliatory expression. "Alright, I see you want to end this game. We’ll forget it. After all, it’s your right. But keep in mind that truths are often hard to accept."

You left House’s office with a sense of relief mixed with fatigue. The confrontation had been draining, but it had brought to light emotions and thoughts that you had kept buried. As you exited the hospital, you tried to relax, reminding yourself that sometimes the best thing to do was to let go and not be carried away by provocations. In the days that followed, the tension between you and House gradually dissipated. Although the clash left a certain bitterness, you continued to work together professionally. House, while still sarcastic and abrasive, seemed less inclined to push things further after the confrontation. Cameron and Cuddy, noticing the change in your mood and the impact of the confrontation, showed their support. Cameron, always attentive, made sure you were doing okay and offered moments of comfort.

The following Monday, you were still affected by the confrontation with House. Even though the conflict had ended on a more conciliatory note, it had left emotional scars. However, the week started on a positive note with the constant support of Cameron and Cuddy. Seeing their kindness and attention brought you relief. Cameron, always concerned for your well-being, suggested joining her for an outing to take your mind off things. You spent a pleasant evening together, talking and laughing, which helped lighten your spirit.

The following days were dedicated to reconciliation with House. Although his mannerisms remained sarcastic and sometimes abrasive, he seemed to have toned down his aggression after your confrontation. You continued to work together, but the atmosphere was slightly less tense. House, while staying true to his usual style, no longer pushed the provocations as far as he had before. On your part, you focused on your work, striving to maintain a professional attitude despite past tensions.

On Friday evening, after a busy week, you found unexpected comfort in joining Cuddy for dinner. She had taken the time to prepare something special for the two of you, and the evening unfolded in a soothing atmosphere. You talked about everything and nothing, avoiding work topics and focusing on your relationship. Moments of laughter and sharing strengthened the bond between you, momentarily making you forget the week’s stresses.

The weekend brought a new opportunity to deepen your relationship with Cuddy. She suggested organizing a special activity for the two of you. It turned into a full day of exploring a local market, sampling delicious foods, and enjoying light-hearted moments. The activity allowed you to discover more about each other outside the professional context and to strengthen your connection. You spent time strolling, discussing your dreams and ambitions, and supporting each other in your respective projects. This day reinforced the idea that you could be not only professional partners but also companions in life.

On Sunday, after a relaxing weekend, you found a moment for a more serious conversation. Cuddy, aware of the depth of your feelings, expressed her desire to understand and clarify what you both wanted from your relationship. You discussed openly your expectations and fears. Cuddy, always attentive and caring, encouraged you to be honest with yourself and with her. You talked about the potential challenges you might face and how to overcome them together. This discussion strengthened your connection, allowing you to establish a solid foundation for your budding relationship.

When you returned to work the following Monday, the atmosphere between you was imbued with a new harmony. You had managed to move past the tensions of the previous week and establish a deeper connection. The mutual support and shared moments had clarified your feelings and allowed you to envision a future together with more serenity. Although work remained demanding and sometimes stressful, your interactions with Cuddy were now marked by a deeper understanding and growing camaraderie. You could work side by side with a sense of mutual support, which improved not only your personal relationship but also your professional effectiveness.

The initial tension had dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and mutual support that was felt in every aspect of your life.

One Friday evening, after a particularly grueling day at the hospital, Cuddy invited you to her home for dinner. You had started spending more time together outside of work, but that evening had a special significance. Upon entering her house, you immediately noticed the warm and welcoming atmosphere she had created. The table was beautifully set, and the delicious smell of a homemade meal filled the air.

"I wanted tonight to be special," she said with a smile. "We’ve been through a lot lately, and I think it’s time to talk about what we really feel."

You nodded, feeling your heart race at the thought of this important conversation. You sat down at the table, sharing a delicious meal while discussing your lives, hopes, and dreams. The atmosphere was relaxed, and simply being in Cuddy’s presence made you feel at home.

After dinner, you settled on the couch with a glass of wine. Cuddy looked at you with an expression that was both tender and determined.

"Y/N, I care about you a lot. More than I realized at the beginning. And I think we should make our relationship official. Not just for us, but also for others."

You remained silent for a moment, letting her words resonate within you. You knew it was the right time to be honest and open your heart. "Lisa, I feel the same way. You've become an essential part of my life, and I want everyone to know how much you mean to me."

Cuddy smiled, visibly moved by your words. She took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "Then let's do it. Let's be together, officially. No matter what others think, we know what we want."

The following Monday, you decided to go public with your relationship. Arriving at the hospital, you both felt nervous but determined. Cuddy, as the hospital director, took the initiative to make the announcement during the weekly staff meeting. "Good morning, everyone. Before we start the meeting, I’d like to share some personal news. Y/N and I are together."

There was a moment of silence, followed by murmurs among the staff. Then, Cameron was the first to stand up and applaud, soon followed by other colleagues. Even House, though surprised, gave a wry smile, acknowledging the strength of your decision.

The person you thought least likely to be understanding spoke up. "Well, it was about time something interesting happened around here. Congratulations, you two." Cuddy looked at House after his words, wondering how much Vicodin he had taken, but he simply shrugged before leaving.

With the announcement of your relationship, you felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders. The reactions were mostly positive, and even those who were initially skeptical eventually accepted your love. Life at the hospital continued, but now you could be yourselves without fear or shame. The following days were marked by a constant stream of support from colleagues and friends. You received congratulatory messages, dinner invitations, and even small gestures from those who were happy for you.

One evening, as you held Cuddy's hand, you realized how much your life had changed since you had met her. The love you shared was not just a source of happiness, but also a force that pushed you to be better and face challenges together. You knew that obstacles would still arise, but as a couple, you were ready to overcome them. The official recognition of your relationship marked the beginning of a new era, where love, respect, and mutual understanding would be the foundations of your shared life.

After making your relationship official, the first few months were filled with moments of discovery and intimacy. You were getting to know each other on a more personal level, sharing quiet weekends, movie nights, and intimate dinners. Each moment spent together strengthened your bond.

To escape the hustle and bustle of the hospital, you enjoyed spending weekends at a small country house that Cuddy occasionally rented. These moments away from everything, surrounded by nature, were precious to both of you. They allowed you to relax and focus on each other, away from the demands of your daily lives.

She loved your sensitive parts, loved how you responded to the lightest touch with the most lustful moans, and how your skin prickled with goosebumps, a whine leaving your lips.

And then she kneeled on the floor, her palms caressing the bare skin of your legs, slow and light, until you could feel them on your thighs. "My love, lift your hips for me." You didn’t have to ask why because the moment you obliged, you felt her fingers hook the waistband of your shorts and pull them with ease.

Now exposed, you tried to bring your legs together to somehow conceal what was in between your thighs, but her strong hands parted them, a gasp falling from your lips. “Lisa.” You whispered, feeling the ache when her breath stroked the inside of your thighs. She was close, and you moaned. You had never been teased like this.

“Baby, please.”

“Keep it together, love.” It was cruel, but you knew she only meant you had to beg.

“Baby, I need you. Please.”

From where she kneeled, your center was vividly glistening, too aroused for her, and she took massive pleasure from how she could make you so wet without even touching you like you wanted her to. The thoughts were gone when you felt her weight dipping the bed again, and without preamble, you felt the tip of her tongue toying with the length of your slit, felt her hand directing your leg above her bare shoulder. She must have taken her robe off.

“Fuck!” you hissed, her lips wrapping around your clit, “Lisa...ahh—” it was a filthy, filthy moan that drove the woman crazy. “Baby—” your breath hitched, feeling her tongue enter your cunt. She had to keep hold of your hips from bucking, a tight grip that would bruise later.

Each movement of her tongue sent waves of pleasure through your body, your fingers tangling in her hair as she skillfully worked you. You could feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each passing second. Her grip tightened, ensuring you stayed in place as she drove you closer to the edge.

“Lisa, please,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her response was to intensify her efforts, her tongue delving deeper, her lips and teeth grazing your sensitive skin. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy. You could feel the tension coiling within you, ready to snap at any moment.

“Come for me, love,” she murmured against your skin, the vibration of her words sending you over the edge. Your body arched, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as the orgasm washed over you, waves of pure bliss radiating from your core.

She continued her ministrations, drawing out your pleasure until you were left trembling, spent and satisfied. Slowly, she withdrew, planting gentle kisses on your thighs as you came down from your high. Your breathing slowed, the aftershocks of pleasure leaving you in a state of contentment.

“Lisa,” you breathed, your voice filled with gratitude and affection.

She smiled up at you, her eyes warm and loving. “I love you,” she said simply, her hand caressing your cheek. You reached down, pulling her up to join you on the bed. “I love you too,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around her. In that moment, everything felt perfect, your connection deeper than ever before. As you lay there, holding each other, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

And it continued, except that her behavior changed over time. You never would have thought she was jealous until the day a nurse made advances toward you in front of her. You couldn't blame the nurse, as he was new and didn't know yet. That evening, however, she made it clear that you were HER'S.

This time, Lisa decided to take control completely. Her eyes were dark with desire as she commanded, "Strip."

Your hands trembled slightly as you removed your clothes, standing vulnerable before her. She watched every movement with an intensity that made you shiver. Once you were fully exposed, she guided you to the bed, her touch firm and authoritative.

"Lie down," she instructed, her voice leaving no room for hesitation.

You obeyed, lying back on the bed as she climbed on top of you, her knees straddling your waist. Her eyes bored into yours, a smirk playing on her lips. "You belong to me tonight," she whispered, her voice sending shivers down your spine.

Without warning, she grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. The dominance in her actions made your breath hitch, your body responding instantly to her control. "Don't move unless I tell you to," she ordered, her tone brooking no argument.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. "You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. "How much I’ve wanted to have you completely at my mercy."

You could only moan in response, the sound muffled by the intensity of your own desire. Lisa’s hands roamed over your body, her touch both gentle and commanding. She knew exactly where to touch, where to tease, and where to press to elicit the most desperate moans from you.

Her lips followed the path of her hands, kissing and nibbling at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When she reached your breasts, she paused, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Do you want me to touch you here?" she asked, her fingers hovering just above your nipple.

"Yes, please," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

She chuckled softly, her breath warm against your skin. "Good," she said, finally lowering her mouth to take your nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. The sensation made you arch your back, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips.

She continued to tease and torment you, her mouth and hands working in tandem to drive you wild. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, she pulled back, her eyes locking onto yours. "I want to hear you beg for it," she said, her voice low and commanding.

"Please, Lisa," you moaned, your body aching with need. "I need you. Please."

A satisfied smile curved her lips as she finally moved lower, her fingers trailing down your abdomen to your thighs. She spread your legs wide, her eyes drinking in the sight of your arousal. "You're so wet for me," she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Before you could respond, her mouth was on you, her tongue lapping at your folds with an intensity that made you cry out. Her hands held your hips firmly in place, preventing you from bucking against her mouth. The pleasure was overwhelming, building with each flick of her tongue and each gentle bite.

She knew exactly how to push you to the edge, bringing you to the brink of orgasm before pulling back, leaving you gasping and trembling. "Not yet," she said, her voice a tantalizing tease. "I want you to beg for it."

"Please, Lisa," you pleaded, your voice desperate. "I need to come. Please."

Her response was to redouble her efforts, her mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to drive you over the edge. When you finally came, it was with a cry of her name, your body writhing under her skilled touch. She didn’t stop until she had wrung every last bit of pleasure from you, leaving you spent and satisfied.

As you lay there, catching your breath, Lisa moved to lie beside you, her hand gently stroking your hair. "You did so well," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "You’re mine, remember that."

You nodded, a contented smile on your lips. "I'm yours," you whispered, your heart full of love and trust for the woman who held you so completely.

On day at the hospital could be particularly exhausting, but this Thursday felt different. Lisa Cuddy had received a box of chocolates from a grateful patient, and without suspecting their content, she had eaten several. A few hours later, she began to feel an intense heat and agitation that she hadn't anticipated.

Early in the afternoon, you were in her office discussing a current case. Cuddy, visibly uncomfortable, asked you to close the door behind you. "Y/N, I don't know what's happening, but I need your help," she murmured, her cheeks flushing under the aphrodisiac's effect. You approached her, concerned, but as soon as you were within reach, she grabbed your hand and pulled you toward her.

"Lisa, what are you doing?" you whispered, your heart pounding. She looked at you, her eyes shining with desire. "I… I can't wait any longer," she murmured, her fingers slowly unbuttoning your blouse. You let her, mesmerized by her urgency. Her lips found yours in a fervent kiss, her hands exploring your body with unchecked passion.

You found yourself seated on the edge of her desk, your clothes scattered around you. Cuddy, still in control, pulled a small device from her drawer. "Look at this," she said with a mischievous smile. She activated the remote-controlled vibrator and slipped it between your thighs, securing it in place with a strap. You shivered at the sensation, your muscles clenching involuntarily.

"Lisa, here? Now?" You couldn't believe what was happening. She nodded, her fingers pressing the remote. The vibrator began to hum softly, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk.

Cuddy stood before you, her gaze fixed on you with a devouring intensity. She increased the toy's power, and you felt yourself on the verge of losing control. "You like this, don't you?" she murmured, her fingers caressing your face. You could only nod, unable to form a coherent response.

She played with the settings, alternating between gentle vibrations and intense pulses, pushing you to the edge. Each change in rhythm brought you closer to ecstasy, and you found yourself silently begging for more release. Cuddy, seeing your state, lowered the remote to give you a moment of respite.

"Do you want to come for me, Y/N?" she asked, her voice soft but authoritative. "Yes, Lisa, please," you panted, your body trembling with anticipation. She smiled and increased the intensity again, finally pushing you over the edge. You felt yourself explode into a million fragments of pleasure, each wave of bliss overwhelming you.

Breathless and dizzy, you collapsed onto the desk, your limbs weak and trembling. Lisa turned off the vibrator and gently removed it, her hands caressing your soothed thighs. "You were wonderful," she murmured, placing a tender kiss on your lips. "Thank you for helping me."

As you caught your breath, you realized how much this experience had strengthened your connection. Though you had never imagined such a situation at work, you felt closer to Lisa than ever.

After that intense afternoon in Cuddy's office, life took on a new, exciting rhythm. You and Lisa navigated your relationship with a mix of professional decorum and private passion. The boundaries between work and personal life became more distinct, yet somehow more intertwined. The weeks following that day saw both of you finding a balance between your responsibilities at the hospital and your deepening relationship. Cuddy, always the consummate professional, ensured that your interactions at work remained appropriate. However, the stolen glances and subtle touches were enough to keep the flame of your relationship burning. Your evenings together became the highlight of your day. Cuddy's house transformed into a haven where you could both unwind and be yourselves. You shared dinners, cooked together, and enjoyed quiet nights in, watching movies or discussing your day. Cuddy's favorite moments were when you read to her, your voice soothing away the stress of her day.

Whenever you both could afford the time, you took weekends away from the city. Whether it was a secluded cabin in the mountains or a cozy beach house, these trips allowed you to connect on a deeper level. Away from the demands of the hospital, you explored each other’s interests and dreams, strengthening the bond between you. With each passing month, you found yourself opening up more about your past and your feelings. Lisa, too, shared stories of her journey, the struggles she faced as a woman in a high-powered position, and her fears and hopes. This mutual vulnerability brought you even closer.

At work, your dynamic remained strong and professional. Your colleagues respected your expertise and dedication, and House, despite his occasional barbs, seemed to accept your relationship with Cuddy. You often found yourself working closely with Lisa on difficult cases, your combined skills and insights making a formidable team. As your relationship grew, the question of moving in together naturally arose. After several months of discussing and planning, you decided it was time. The transition was smooth, a testament to how well you complemented each other. Lisa’s home became your home, and you both enjoyed creating a shared space filled with love and laughter.You often talked about the future, both personal and professional. Lisa’s support encouraged you to pursue further specialization in your field, and you, in turn, were her biggest cheerleader in her ongoing efforts to balance her career and personal life. You dreamed of more travel, maybe even adopting a pet, and continuing to build a life filled with shared goals and mutual respect.

Of course, there were challenges. Balancing two demanding careers and maintaining a relationship wasn’t always easy. There were times when stress from work would spill over into your personal life. But each challenge was met with patience and communication. Your ability to work through problems together only strengthened your relationship. Your relationship had a positive ripple effect on those around you. Cameron often commented on how happy you seemed, and even House, in his own way, acknowledged the stability you brought to Cuddy's life. The respect and affection you shared became a quiet inspiration to others in the hospital, showing that a loving, supportive partnership was possible even in the most demanding environments.

In the end, what you built together was a relationship based on trust, respect, and deep affection. Lisa Cuddy and you became each other’s confidant, lover, and partner in every sense of the word. Your journey was just beginning, but it was clear that whatever the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand.

Everything was going quite well until you decided to take a week off to focus entirely on Cuddy. The hospital was struggling, but you knew it would improve as usual. However, Cuddy, still stressed by the situation, was unaware that you had planned this time off specifically for her. That morning, as usual, you woke up early to prepare breakfast. Cuddy arrived, gave you a tender kiss, and told you she loved you before rushing off to eat, get ready, and go to work.

Shortly after her departure, you were distracted by knocks at your door. Maybe Cuddy had forgotten something? When you opened the door, you were surprised to see House standing there with his usual air of arrogance. You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t leave you alone. You let him in and turned back to continue tidying up the kitchen after breakfast.

House casually settled into a chair, his eyes gleaming with calculated interest. "So, how's it going with the manipulator?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm but also with undisguised curiosity.

You turned to look at him, exasperated by his early morning intrusion. "What do you want, House?" you replied, trying to keep your frustration in check as you continued with your chores.

"Just a little chat to pass the time," he said, shrugging. "I was wondering how things are going with the big boss. She must really be a master manipulator to get you to drop everything, even your job, for her."

You felt your anger rise sharply. "Cuddy isn’t manipulating me, House. I’m taking this time off to help her relax a bit. The hospital is going through a tough period, and she’s carrying all the weight on her shoulders."

House rolled his eyes with feigned exasperation. "Oh, of course. Poor Cuddy, tormented by her job. And you, the saint, there to save her every step of the way. Maybe she’s just using you for her emotional and professional needs. Maybe she sees you more as a temporary fix to her problems than as a real partner."

This remark made you boil with rage. "You don't know anything about our relationship, House. Cuddy and I support each other. What we have is real, and it's not something you could understand."

House leaned forward, his gaze becoming more incisive. "Maybe I don't understand. Or maybe I see things you're refusing to see. But be careful, because sometimes the people we trust the most are the ones who betray us the most."

You stared at him with determination, refusing to give in to his provocations. "Cuddy would never betray me. And I won’t let anyone, especially not you, come between us. I love her, and I hope she'll become my wife someday."

House raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed by your resolve. "Well, good luck with that," he said as he headed for the door. "Don't forget that I warned you." With those final words, he left, leaving you alone in the kitchen, your thoughts swirling in your head.

Shortly after his departure, you felt a gentle hand resting on your shoulder. You turned around to see Cuddy, who had forgotten her bag. She looked at you with a tender smile and gave you a light kiss. "I'll talk about this tonight," she said before kissing you again and walking away.

You stood there, alone, with mixed thoughts and emotions, waiting for the evening when Cuddy would return to discuss everything that had happened. After a particularly stressful workday for Cuddy, you prepared for an evening that would be both soothing and revealing. Having taken time off to focus on her, you had done everything to create a warm and intimate setting. The kitchen smelled of homemade dishes, candles created a soft glow, and light music floated in the air.

When Cuddy came home, you waited eagerly. She entered, visibly exhausted but happy to find a calm and comforting environment. As she dropped her bag and approached you, a tired smile lit up her face.

"Wow, you really went all out tonight," she said, taking in the ambiance you had carefully prepared. Her eyes settled on you with gratitude and affection. She pulled you into a hug, and you felt a wave of comfort as you held her close.

"I wanted it to be special," you replied softly. "For both of us."

You sat down at the table for dinner. The meal you had prepared was simple yet delicious, with dishes that seemed to bring a touch of warmth and comfort. As you ate, Cuddy talked about her day, the pressure she felt at work, and her concerns about the hospital. She shared her frustrations and worries, revealing how exhausted she was from the challenges she faced.

You listened attentively, offering words of comfort and showing sincere empathy for her difficulties. "It must be really hard to carry all that weight on your shoulders," you said. "But I'm here for you, and I want you to remember that we’re a team. If you want, I can even give you a massage."

After dinner, you settled on the couch, the atmosphere now imbued with tranquility and warmth. Cuddy snuggled against you, and you felt a deep connection growing between you. She took a deep breath before beginning to speak.

"You know, I’ve done a lot of thinking today," she said, her gaze drifting into yours. "And I realize how much I need you in my life. I don’t want misunderstandings or obstacles to come between us. What we have is precious to me."

You took her hand in yours, looking at her tenderly. "I feel the same way, Lisa. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make our relationship work. Even in the face of challenges, I’m confident that we can overcome them together."

Cuddy smiled, her eyes lighting up with sincerity. "I love you deeply, and I want us to remain honest with each other while supporting one another."

The conversation continued, filled with promises and commitments for the future. You discussed your hopes, fears, and dreams with renewed openness. Every word exchanged strengthened the bond between you, and you felt more confident in the solidity of your relationship.

By the end of the evening, as you settled in to relax, Cuddy snuggled against you. You spent the night in a sweet embrace, finding comfort and joy in each other's presence.

Finally, it was Friday, and you had planned a lot of activities for the weekend. The sun was beginning to set as Cuddy came home after a long day at work. You had spent the day preparing something special for her, hoping to offer her a moment of relaxation and relief from the tensions at the hospital. As you heard the front door open, your heart raced with anticipation of what you had planned for the evening.

Cuddy walked into the room, visibly tired but with a grateful smile upon seeing you. "Hi, honey," she said, approaching you for a kiss. "How was your day?"

"Very good," you replied with a smile, a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. "I’ve prepared something special for you tonight. Will you follow me?"

Intrigued, Cuddy followed you to the bedroom, where you had transformed the space into a sanctuary of relaxation. Soft, soothing candlelight flickered around the room, and a subtle lavender scent floated in the air. On the bed, carefully arranged accessories awaited, signaling the BDSM session you had prepared.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on her lips. "Oh, I see you’ve been very busy," she said, her voice tinged with curiosity and desire. "And what’s the special occasion for all this?"

You took a deep breath, determined to offer her this experience with all the love and respect you felt for her. "I wanted to thank you for everything you do, for your hard work and dedication. But more than that, I wanted to give you the chance to let go, to release all the stress you carry."

Cuddy looked at you with tenderness, touched by your gesture. "You’re really amazing," she murmured, before kissing you passionately. "I trust you to guide me tonight."

You began by gently blindfolding her, taking care to explain each step of the process. "I’m going to guide you through this experience. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just say the safe word, okay?"

Cuddy nodded, her breath already quickening in anticipation. "Okay," she murmured.

You began by gently securing her wrists to the bed with velvet cuffs, ensuring they were comfortable yet tight enough to restrict her movements. Then, you picked up a soft leather flogger and started to caress her skin with it, testing her reaction before delivering light strokes—enough to create a sensation but not excessive pain. Each stroke was followed by a kiss on the reddened skin, alternating between tenderness and firmness, creating a sensual dance between pain and pleasure. Cuddy moaned, getting lost in the sensations, her breathing becoming more erratic.

"You look so beautiful when you let go," you whispered in her ear before picking up a remote-controlled vibrator. "I’m going to keep playing with you, but I want you to tell me how you’re feeling at every moment."

Cuddy nodded, her voice trembling with desire. "I feel... alive. Keep going, please."

You turned on the vibrator, placing it gently between her legs before activating the vibrations. Cuddy’s body tensed, a moan escaping her lips. You alternated the intensities, playing with the rhythm to keep her excitement at its peak without letting her reach climax too quickly.

"You like this, don’t you?" you asked, your voice low and sensual.

"Yes... yes, I like it," she responded between moans, her body trembling with pleasure.

The evening continued in a delicate dance of domination and submission, each gesture and word deepening the connection between you two. When you sensed she was ready, you increased the intensity of the vibrator, guiding Cuddy toward a powerful orgasm that left her breathless, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

You gently untied her, removed the blindfold, and held her in your arms, offering soothing words and gentle caresses. "Thank you for trusting me," you whispered into her hair.

Cuddy looked at you with eyes still glazed with pleasure. "Thank you for this unforgettable moment. I feel so much better, so loved."

You remained entwined, savoring the softness of the moment and the depth of your connection, knowing that this experience had further strengthened your love and mutual trust.

You had booked a weekend at a luxury hotel with a spa, jacuzzi, and all the amenities for maximum relaxation. On Saturday morning, after Cuddy had woken up, you greeted her with a mischievous smile.

"Pack your bags, darling, after breakfast," you say, kissing her tenderly. "We're going away for a relaxing weekend."

Cuddy looks at you, surprised but delighted. "Oh really? Where are we going?"

"You'll see," you reply with a wink. "But get ready to be pampered."

After breakfast, you hit the road, leaving behind the worries of the hospital. Upon arriving at the hotel, Cuddy is awestruck by the beauty of the place. The entrance is grand, with lush gardens and soothing fountains. You check in quickly and head to your room, a luxurious suite with breathtaking views of the mountains.

"Wow, this is gorgeous," Cuddy murmurs, impressed. "You've really thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Nothing is too good for you," you reply, hugging her. "Now, let's go enjoy the spa."

You change into fluffy robes and head down to the hotel spa. The atmosphere is serene, with soft music playing in the background and the subtle scent of lavender floating through the air. You start with a relaxing couples' massage, where expert hands work out all the tension from your bodies. The essential oils soothe your minds, and you both feel completely at ease.

After the massage, you head to the private jacuzzi. The warm water and bubbles soothe your tired muscles, adding to your relaxation. Cuddy settles against you, her head resting on your shoulder, a peaceful smile on her lips.

"This is exactly what I needed," she murmurs. "Thank you, darling."

"I knew you needed it," you reply, gently stroking her hair. "You work so hard. You deserve to unwind."

You spend a long time in the jacuzzi, enjoying the warmth and each other’s company. You chat about everything and nothing, letting the bubbles carry away your worries.

In the evening, you dine at the hotel restaurant, savoring a delicious meal paired with exquisite wines. Cuddy is radiant, her eyes shining with happiness and gratitude. "I couldn't be happier," she says, looking at you tenderly. "You make everything so special."

"Because you are special to me," you respond, raising your glass for a toast. "To us and many more moments like this."

The rest of the weekend continues in the same vein of relaxation and joy. You enjoy the pools, saunas, and long walks through the hotel gardens. You laugh, kiss, and take care of each other, further strengthening your bond.

Returning home, you both feel rejuvenated and ready to face the challenges ahead. Cuddy thanks you repeatedly for the perfect weekend, and you are happy to have given her this moment of peace and happiness.

“We should do this more often,” she says as she falls asleep in your arms on the first night back home.

“Yes, we should,” you murmur, a smile on your lips. “I love you, Lisa.”

“I love you too,” she replies softly, and with that, you both drift off to sleep, ready to face whatever the future holds together.

The last evening of your weekend unfolds in a peaceful, loving atmosphere. However, the return to reality looms, bringing with it the pressures and responsibilities you both face. On the evening of your last day off, the mood is slightly tense. Cuddy seems preoccupied, likely already thinking about the challenges awaiting her at the hospital.

As you have breakfast together, you try to reassure her. “You know, everything will be fine at the hospital. We have a great team, and we can handle it together.”

Cuddy gives a faint smile. “I know, but there’s so much to manage. The finances, the new projects, the daily issues. Sometimes it’s just… overwhelming.”

You understand her stress, but you also need to share your own concerns. “I understand, Lisa, but you also need to learn to delegate. You can’t do everything on your own.”

She looks at you, slightly irritated. “It’s easy for you to say. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under as the director.”

Your tone becomes firmer, feeling the injustice of her words. “I know very well what it’s like to work under pressure, Lisa. I’m here for you, but you also need to accept help.”

The rest of the morning is marked by growing tension. You prepare in silence for the return home, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words and accumulated frustrations. During the drive back, you try to initiate some light conversation, but Cuddy responds with one-word answers, clearly still preoccupied.

Once home, the situation finally erupts. “Why can’t you understand that I need support, not criticism?” Cuddy exclaims as she enters the living room.

You turn to her, arms crossed. “I’m not criticizing you, Lisa. I’m trying to help. But you never let me in; you always want to control everything.”

"And you think you could do better?" she retorts, anger in her voice. "You have no idea what it's like to run a hospital."

"Maybe not, but I know what it’s like to manage a relationship," you reply, frustration rising. "And right now, you're not letting me be a part of your life the way I want to."

Cuddy remains silent for a moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, it's just… so hard. I'm afraid of losing everything."

You approach her, softening your tone. "We're a team, a couple, Lisa. You're not alone. I'm here, by your side, no matter what. But you have to let me help."

She nods, tears finally streaming down her face. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just that sometimes, everything becomes too overwhelming."

You embrace her, feeling the tension start to ease a little. "We’ll get through this together, okay? But we need to communicate and support each other."

Cuddy nods, cuddling into you. "I promise to make an effort. Thank you for being here for me."

You spend the rest of the day calmly talking, reaffirming your commitment to each other.

After that intense argument and the subsequent reconciliation, you and Cuddy decided to take concrete steps to improve your relationship and lighten the load of responsibilities. True to her promise, Cuddy began delegating more tasks to her colleagues, learning to trust her team. She also agreed to attend therapy sessions to better manage her stress. On your side, you made an effort to be more present and create relaxation moments for both of you. Every weekend, you set aside time for activities together, whether it was a simple walk in the park, a romantic dinner, or a movie night at home. You discovered new shared passions and rekindled those you had neglected.

One evening, after a particularly successful day at the hospital, where the finances were finally starting to improve and a new project was underway, Cuddy came home with a radiant smile. You greeted her with a glass of wine and a carefully prepared dinner.

"I have a surprise for you," she said, her eyes sparkling with joy and mischief.

Intrigued, you followed her into the living room, where she had prepared an envelope adorned with a red ribbon. You opened it carefully, discovering two tickets to a dream destination you had always wanted to visit together.

"I think we deserve a well-earned vacation, this time with no stress and no obligations," she said with a smile.

The days leading up to your departure were filled with excitement and joyful preparations. You discussed everything you wanted to do and see, already imagining the memories you would create together. Upon arriving at your destination, you immersed yourselves in a tropical paradise, savoring every moment together. The days were filled with adventures and discoveries, while the evenings were reserved for moments of tenderness and intimacy. On your last evening, as you watched the sunset on the beach, Cuddy took your hand in hers.

"You know, this year has been tough, but it’s also taught me what truly matters," she said.

You nodded, feeling the emotion rise. "Yes, it’s taught us to support and love each other more deeply."

Cuddy smiled and pulled a small box from her pocket. Opening it, you discovered a beautiful ring. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me, Y/N?"

With tears in your eyes, you answered without hesitation. "Yes, Lisa, I will."

You kissed, your hearts beating as one, savoring this moment of pure happiness. You knew that the road ahead would still be long and filled with challenges, but together, you could overcome anything. Your love was stronger than ever, ready to face the future with hope and determination.

And so, hand in hand, you embarked on this new chapter of your life, with the certainty that nothing and no one could ever tear you apart. After this event, you understood why you had given the necklace to your wife. From the beginning, the clue had been right before your eyes—why you thought of her when you saw the pendant. The same color as her eyes.

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