#the pride before the fall etc etc

[semiotomatics]

welp

[johndonneswife]

i love sleeping. i would love to do it again one day

[baphometsss]

Solas repeatedly explains that things are not so black and white and the fandom's response to the nature of his relationships with Mythal and Felassan etc are weirdly reminiscent of what he finds frustrating about modern Thedas.

He explains repeatedly that the distinction between spirit and demon is not that black and white, that there's always an element of choice involved. Likewise, he cannot be so easily defined as wisdom or pride. He is a mix of both and will lean into one or the other depending on how he is perceived. Over and over again he tries to make people see that it's our expectations that create the dynamics of our relationships and therefore how we perceive others. If we respect others in the way they would like to be respected, you can come closer to an authentic and equal partnership.

Likewise, he says that he is not defined by his body, a point Trick said came from their own thoughts around their gender and figuring out that they were nonbinary. Solas chose a male body, seemingly because he had to choose one, not necessarily because he felt like a man. In fact he repeatedly explains that he sees himself as a spirit i.e. genderless

The romance or friendship with the Inquisitor is special because it is the first time that he's branching out of his comfort zone of bonding like a spirit bonds (reflecting) and trying to bond like a person does instead (meeting them on their level, sharing his heart with them and being vulnerable). This is why one of my favourite lines from him is 'You are unique. In all Thedas I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me.' This is the first time he has fallen in love, the first time he has actually relished being a person and not a spirit, because he's able to be with Lavellan this way. He can't fall in love as a spirit as spirits don't bond that way, as is repeatedly stated throughout his story. I personally think the relationships he forged before Inquisition were all done using the attachment style of spirits, which is apparently quite abstract, and not as a man, which is more understandable to mortals and us, the player.

What's especially pertinent about this is that says this line right before he's about to abandon his plan to tear down the Veil by telling the Inquisitor the truth, a plan that symbolises his attachment to his spirit-self and the world he inadvertently destroyed. Once he does that, there's no coming back; likewise, once you take a body, you cannot go back. When you fall in love in a way that makes all the parts of you line up perfectly for the first time, you can't go back.

What is so beautiful to me about Solas's love story with Lavellan is that we witness Solas in a chrysalis state between spirithood and personhood, past and present (and future), on the precipice of metamorphosis. At the very moment he's about to take that final leap like The Fool his romance card is based on, he backs out, because of guilt, trauma, grief, duty and the rest.

Even with a befriended Inquisitor, he bonds with them on their level. He doesn't try to elevate them to his level; he comes to theirs. He is the opposite of Pride in their friendship, which is why he respects them. They allow him to be himself.

It's because of this change in nature that I think Solas and Lavellan's love story is so compelling--Solas's world quite literally changes when he falls in love, as he states multiple times, in various ways. I mean, look at the way he needs time to think about a potential relationship with Lavellan. He probably knows that it's a bad idea, but at this point he has no idea how much of a bad idea it is with respect to his plans because he has no idea that it will make him want to give it up. If he had, he never would've entertained the idea of a relationship. His romance card in Veilguard explains that he didn't know what it would mean to fall in love, because he's never actually been in love. He has loved countless friends and companions, like Mythal and Felassan, but he has not fallen for someone like he falls for a romanced Lavellan; Lavellan, who is deified like he was deified, who sees him for who he is (as much as they can) and doesn't shun him or punish him for not doing as he was told like a good lapdog.

Once again there's more of the irony that pervades Solas's story at every turn. It's in falling for a mortal that Solas becomes a more complete person, more of the man he says he is and not the god others have revered him as. That is the deepest change of all and the one that reflects his earlier statements on the delineation between spirit and demon not being so black and white, and involving a level of choice. Solas chooses to be more of a man in a similar way to how Cole chooses to become more human. He knows deep down that he's already in too deep to stop, and this is why, despite knowing he has a job to do and a duty to fulfil, he leaves clues for the Inquisition to follow him. Because he's already gone too far, and now he can't go back, and deep down he wants to be stopped, like Varric said. Solas, as a former spirit, doesn't simply feel love, he embodies it, and so he is helpless to that emotion. Of course he left clues.

Because that is what falling in love meant for Solas. It meant going into that chrysalis state and emerging as a totally new being with an experience that is quite far removed from his spirit self and all the limitations that come with that. Mythal and Felassan etc predate this experience, they're intrinsically tied to his nature as a spirit and then as a manifested spirit. While he loved them, that love was tangled up with a simpler nature, and the love he shares with Lavellan is coming from a totally new place. For that reason, the two can't really be compared.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

how do you think leona would do if he falls in love?

Here are my thoughts in bullet-point/headcanon form for ease of reading! Key word there being my thoughts. (There will of course be different interpretations based on who you ask this question to.)

Standard disclaimer: These points are nothing more than my opinions and I am NOT saying my opinions are any more or less valid or “correct” than yours. Please, I’m not pre-book 1 Riddle/j It’s fine to have other takes; just remember to be mindful in how you communicate differences in opinion.

To start with, here's how I think Leona would deal with the experience of first love:

Firstly, I definitely feel that Leona is the type of person to not easily fall in love. There are many examples in canon of Leona rejecting the love he receives from others, whether it be from his own family (Cheka, Falena), dorm members (Ruggie, Jack, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.), or other peers. Even though he desires others’ approval and praise, he also simultaneously believes the compliments are insincere or that he may not be deserving or worthy of it, that he hasn’t “earned” it. It’s also difficult for him to be emotionally vulnerable with others, and I feel that this would extend to romantic circumstances.

Continuing from the previous point, I think it’d be a slow burn. Like, the feelings develop gradually and manifest in small but increasingly more forward-facing ways like his gaze lingering for a second or two longer than usual, him getting slightly irritable when he smells (I 100% believe that smell is a Big Thing for beastmen) some other guy on the object of his affections, or simply… his mind wandering to them, maybe in a daydream.

A lot of it is Leona musing about the situation and then being in denial. He’s not so oblivious as to ignore what are clearly blossoming feelings, but he's not so hasty as to act on them right away. He'd sit with those feelings, examine them, question them. What is it that he is experiencing and why, how did things come to this, etc. He may even try to convince himself it's a phase or he's "too good" for this or he's "above" this. Really takes a long time to wrestle with his emotions and to sort them out. And then when he has come to his conclusion, he might not be very pleased with it because (as I said before), he has self-esteem and self-worth issues despite outwardly presenting himself as confident and in-charge.

For a while, he keeps his distance and observes. He’s nothing if not a big cat biding his time, keeping an eye on his prey until—BAM! Down comes his paw, ensnaring the mouse. It's like a game of chess or... cat and mouse. You have to watch your opponent and predict their moves, then plan your own moves two or three or more steps ahead of them. He'd want to gauge if they're already taken, if they seem to express an interest in him too, what they like and dislike, information like that. The last thing Leona'd want to do is charge in, guns blazing, only to be rejected and have his pride hurt.

He may also go out of his way to test the object of his affections by purposefully engineering scenarios to see how they react. At first, it's subtle things that could easily be passed off as coincidence or happenstance. For example, maybe Leona would accidentally bump his shoulder against yours or as he's walking by his tail flicks you. That's just the start though. He'd put more pressure on over time. Like he'd be more confrontational, putting himself in your path as some obstacle to overcome, still being sort of an asshole to see how you handle yourself around him.

Leona tells himself he has the upper hand, and he's usually pretty consistent about hiding his feelings to that end. It might peek through here and there, but they easily read as him being tsundere as per usual. I think that would be his way of coping, because deep down he doesn't want to admit that a part of him is scared to feel this way. It's something else he could fail at, someone else he could frighten away or destroy.

With time, I think he'd become more confident. He has a better grasp of the other person, he's been able to sort out his thoughts. But the thing is, his pride is still a major deterrent. Instead of coming out and saying it, it would become another game. If you've ever read or watched Kaguya-sama: Love is War, it'd be similar to that. Leona would push for the other person to be the one to fall for him and confess first. Part of it is he's kind of afraid to be so emotionally vulnerable, part of it is that he's desperate to be wanted and needed by others, and part of it is that he feels he needs to "earn" that love by winning you over. He wants that sweet, sweet validation from you. He wants YOU to choose HIM.

I think he expects a certain amount of push and pull. If the game's too easy for him, the (psychological) hunt loses some of its thrill. I think he'd also be the type to seek a partner that isn't just a blind yes man (despite him giving off the vibes that he wants to be in total control, especially in his own dormitory); they should be able to keep him on his toes one way or another, and they shouldn't idolize him in a really unrealistic way--because then he worries what would happen if they learn about his flaws. Would they see him differently? Reject him? Etc.

It'd take a considerable amount of time and effort, but slowly he'd let the walls around his heart down to let you in--but ONLY if you pass his tests and prove that you can be loyal, trustworthy, and cognizant + accepting of all his flaws. He has high standards, so he's pretty picky about who he allows to be by his side. I don't think he'd be happy having to like... put in a fake "perfect prince" act or airs for someone else. Pretending to be someone you're not in order to have love might be just another source of stress for him.

He would take a more aggressive approach if the object of his affections makes it obvious that they return his feelings. More "accidental" touching (but of course nothing that breaches into something they find discomforting), intentionally dropping phrases that come off as flirtatious, demanding to spend more time together, etc.

If they're not into it, he'd respectfully back off. However, that won't stop him from moping about it in private later.

Then, assuming a scenario in which he and the person he's romantically interested in get together/start formally dating:

I think he'd be a lot more blatant and shameless about "showing off" his affections and/or the relationship in general. Overt flirting at this point, casually laying his head on the shoulder or wrapping an arm or tail around you, etc. Who cares who sees? Let them know you're already taken.

Oh yeah, he's really into physical touch (within whatever limits you deem to be acceptable; he respects your autonomy). Cuddles while napping, hand holding, head pats, listening to your heartbeat, etc. It grants him a sense of security that you're like... physically there with him.

I think words of affirmation are also up there, however I don't think he would appreciate it if it's like... overdone. Too many compliments might start to feel disingenuous or even smothering after a while (what comes to my mind specifically is how he reacts negatively or with denial to his brother, Cheka, Kifaji, and even his own dorm members praising him).

As I mentioned earlier, I think there'd be a lot of banter and teasing; Leona strikes me as someone who likes to toy with his pre or puts up a fight; he still has his pride and won't take sass lying down, he'd definitely retaliate but in a playful way.

Slightly whiny and needy. Key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to go full yandere on you. I believe that Leona would be somewhat insecure about the relationship and wants you to validate him with your presence. Like, if you're lying down somewhere and try to get up to leave... he might pout and be all dramatic about it, maybe throw in a sarcastic line about how he's "a delicate prince" and how he'll "wither like a flower" without you.

Slightly possessive. Again, the key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to restrict your movements or demand complete control of your life. However, he might sulk if he like... sees some other guy hovering or getting handsy, obviously making you uncomfortable. (If it's a particularly bad day for him, Leona might get intrusive thoughts about being the "second pick" and his partner leaving him for some "better" guy.) We've already seen he can get pretty territorial when it comes to Savanaclaw and the Botanical Garden, so I think at some point he'd also step in to intimidate people he feels are becoming a problem for his S/O. It's not the case for every situation though; his partner should be able to handle themselves or let him know when he's overstepping.

I think he'd be a little more tolerant of things his partner pulls. They're the one exception for certain things, like touching his ears or being more willing to listen to their requests to go to class or to try this new vegetable.

He'd try to distance his S/O from his family, especially in the beginning. Leona would tell them he doesn't think they're ready to meet the royal family yet (especially knowing the rocky relationship he has with his family), but really a lot of this stems from his pride. Falena, for example, honestly might make him look uncool by infantilizing his "baby bro".

Leona doesn't really go out of his way to plan grand gestures (he's not Kalim). If he does anything "big", it's probably like sending Ruggie to your doorstep with fancy flowers and a notecard or something. What he values isn't the "frivolous" stuff, but spending quality time together (even if it's doing nothing in particular). Might still spoil you on, say, special occasions, but he generally dislikes making a big deal of these things.

I think he'd be into you wearing his clothes. It's an easy visual indication that you're intimate enough to do this, but also it cloaks you in his smell so every other beastman in the immediate vicinity also knows you're "marked". Leona tosses his unworn blazer over you, casually saying, "Keep it."

Speaking of!! I think he’d also really like the idea of marking (bites, scratch marks, etc.) or scenting his partner. Just animalistic stuff like that, y’know. I’m sure he could hold himself back if they’re not comfortable with these aspects.

I do believe he has the capacity to be very sappy, but I don't think he'd want to be at this level all of the time. It would probably be limited to private settings and done sparingly, sort of like a treat?? Cuz if he does it too often, then it might lose its "special" feeling, and I also feel like he wouldn't be open to being all squimshy 24/7. Usually his sappiness is sarcastic.

Going to keep it 100 here, he's going to be more vulnerable around you (especially in private), and that means potential traumadumping. That's not to say that he'd do it super frequently to go into full-blown details, but his S/O would be one of the few people he feels comfortable enough with to open about his deepest insecurities and fears. He sometimes needs someone to hear him out, a shoulder to cry on, etc. Of course, he's not going to treat his partner like an unpaid therapist. Leona just... needs some extra support every now and again, reminders that he's doing fine, you know??

IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Leona being in love would NOT smooth out all the rough edges to his personality. He's not going to white knight/act like you constantly need his protection, he's not going to bend over backwards and do anything and everything his partner asks of him. He still has a will and he can and will disagree or argue if he's opposed to something. He'll still let you handle yourself as needed.

Leona being in love would also NOT magically cure him of his personal issues and struggles. This is also true of the other characters who have deeply rooted trauma, but I feel this point should be included as a reminder anyway. It's of course not his entire personality, but his past experiences will impact how he interprets and reacts to things in present day (hence him being needy/wanting validation, etc.).

Like all relationships (whether romantic or platonic), it would not be flawless. There will be highs and lows, fights and disagreements, etc. This is normal in any relationship; what matters is that you're able to be mature enough to patch things up afterwards and learn from those rough patches.

[brain4stew]

Killers with a reader that has been kicking bosses’ asses in different games, worlds and etc, etc…

.

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1x1x1x1

• Did not expect that YOU… Of all survivors and killers… Has accomplished something like defeating, humans, machinery, demons and possibly even literal GODS…

• You seem to frail, weak and vulnerable to them, it honestly shocks him, to hear your accomplishments. (But she also strangely loves it…)

• He’d ask you to spar with him occasionally. Normally it ends up with her being on the ground, under you, or with them being unconscious, as you have to carry them to the killer’s cabin…

• After a lot of that, strangely enough, she’d develop… Feelings. For you. He’d be in denial of those feelings at first, but they’d eventually accept their feelings for you.

• Of course, with his awfully high pride, they do not tell you about her feelings for you. They think it’d make them seem weak.

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John Doe

• Genuinely? Confused.

• Doesn’t understand how YOU of all beings, has been able to do all that. You seem so easy to break in his opinion.

• Doesn’t spar with you, as he’s a bit unsure if you can actually handle the corruption he may inflict on you, if you two ever were to spar.

• Does develop feelings for you, but eventually ends up forgetting those feelings. Causing a loop with those feelings.

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Jason

• Confused how you managed all that, but is also amazed.

• He sees you as some sort of “Villain” or “Hero” he used to dream of when he was a kid, before… All that happened to him and his mother.

• His mother keeps telling him that you’re the “Hero/Villain” he’s been dreaming, and thinking of. (She enables the thinking and dreams, to make him feel great about his actions, his strength and all that.)

• He and his mother thinks you’re awesome from all your accomplishments.

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C00lkidd

• Sees you as a badass person. Maybe even sees you as his role model. (Cough. His dad basically. Cough.)

• He always asks you to tell him about your accomplishments, when he’s going to sleep. (He ends up falling asleep to when you tell him about when you fought a literal emotion demon. HATRED from blocktales smh…)

• You’re his role model, and always plays with you, unless you’re sparring with 1x4.

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Mafioso

• This guy… Actually finds it intriguing that you have so many accomplishments, and was tempted to recruit you in the mafia. (Eunoia said no.)

• His goons ask you if you are able to lift and carry lots of things, or even people. You lifted all 4 of his goons, carrying them in your arms, which shocked them and made them giddy for the possible next time you pick them up.

• Mafioso once had a far too heavy object on him, where he was literally crushed, like a rabbit/bunny pancake (that one video of a bunny laying flat after a cage like object fell on it). His goons did try and help, even Eunoia tried. But, they couldn’t help him.

• So what happened then? Eunoia called you over, and you helped him. When I tell you, that this man, fell head over heels for you right then and there…

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Azure

• Now, they normally wouldn’t be impressed, but when they heard you take down a literal CULT, that had plenty of potential hazard/atomic weapons? WOW.

• They actually asked you if you fought anyone, or anything similar to what they are now. And you, of course, say yes, that you have. You told them everything about the fight, and how you struggled a bit, due to the tentacles.

• And dear god, you swear you saw their tentacles swirl and make small heart shapes as they listened to you.

• They occasionally pick you up out of nowhere, just to see how you’ll react, and how you’ll get out of their grasp. Hands, arms, tentacles, you name it.

• They also ask you to pick them up and carry them a bit, although that is extremely rare for them to ask of you. But when they do ask that, you do pick them up and carry them around, careful of their tentacles and all that.

• The way they fell in love felt weird for them.

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Noli

• This guy, he’s a bit of a prick.

• He sometimes teases you about your accomplishments, and how unlucky you are with those you had to fight.

• You in return, grab his leg and hold home upside down to shut him up, momentarily.

• He’s surprised by how strong you actually are, because he thought you weren’t strong, even with your accomplishments…

• This guy, actually wants to see how you’ll do against a dangerous exploiter/hacker… But doesn’t know how to ask you about that.

• He does ask you occasionally to pick him up when he’s a bit exhausted, which you do. You just, pick him up, and let him rest in your arms, as you go about your day with him in your arms.

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Guest 666

• I genuinely have no idea how to write for this idiot.

• He’s confused, but also amazed by your accomplishments.

• His tail, is just wagging whenever you tell him a story about one of your accomplishments, he’s listening intently.

• He occasionally asks you if you can even lift him up and carry him. You did once, and it legit scared the fuck outta him, and he most of the time, doesn’t ask you to pick him up again.

• He wonders what Noob will think of you, but his thoughts get cut off by you sparring with 1x4, which he pays A LOT of attention on.

[pastryfication]

Can you please do one with shy!reader x Oscar? Reader has chronic pain, but hates asking for help with things, especially simple things (showering, eating, changing, etc)

Ignore if you're not comfortable with this request ❤️

hi thank you so much for the request! i hope it reaches your expectations 🫶🫶

chronic pain | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x shy!reader

warnings: mentions of chronic pain.

the bathroom was warm and misty, the scent of your favourite body wash mingling with the steam rising from the hot shower. you had managed to get undressed and into the shower on your own, a small triumph on a day where the pain was especially relentless.

as you stood under the shower head, the water cascaded over your shoulders, providing a fleeting sense of relief. you leaned against the wall, trying to muster the strength to continue. the stabbing pain in your back wasn’t about to ruin your day once again, you were adamant about that, but your legs felt like jelly, and your hands started to tremble with fatigue.

you closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, but a wave of dizziness washed over you. in an attempt to reach for the soap, your grip faltered, and it slipped from your fingers, hitting the tiled floor with a loud clatter. panic surged through you as you realized you couldn't bend down to retrieve it. no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t make yourself bend down to pick it up.

the sound of the soap hitting the floor must have echoed through the apartment, because moments later, you heard the soft knock on the bathroom door.

"baby? are you okay in there?" oscar’s voice was gentle, but concern laced his words. you hated that he had to worry about you, hated that you had to rely on him for help with the simplest things. but today, the pain was unbearable.

"i’m fine," you called back, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out weak and unconvincing. you hoped he wouldn't press further, but you knew oscar better than that.

the door creaked open, and through the steam, you saw his silhouette. he hesitated at the threshold, respecting your privacy but unwilling to leave you struggling. "are you sure? i think i heard something fall."

you sighed inaudible, feeling the weight of your pride and embarrassment. "i just . . . i dropped the soap. i can get it. just give me a minute."

oscar stepped closer, slowly moving aside the shower curtain to get a full view of you, and his gaze softened when he saw your strained expression. "love, it's okay to need help. let me."

his voice was soothing, filled with unwavering support, but you shook your head, stubbornness mingling with your discomfort. "oscar, i don't want to be a burden. i can do it."

he knelt beside the tub, his presence reassuring and calm as he gave you a gentle smile. "you could never be a burden to me, love. i'm happy to help, however you need."

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of frustration and gratitude. "i just feel so . . . useless sometimes."

oscar frowned at your words, his hand reaching out and gently taking your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "you're not useless. you're strong, and dealing with this pain every day takes so much courage. but even the strongest people need help sometimes. let me be here for you."

you hesitated, the vulnerability of accepting his help weighing heavily on you, but the sincerity in his eyes broke through your defences. slowly, you nodded, allowing him to assist you.

oscar carefully guided you to sit on the edge of the tub, then picked up the soap and lathered it between his hands. with tender care, he began washing your back, his touch light and comforting. you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax for the first time that day.

as he helped you rinse off, his gentle words filled the space. "i'm always here for you. no matter what. so please, ask me for help next time?"

you hesitated for a moment before nodding, agreeing to his words. maybe asking him for help wasn’t the worst idea when the feeling of his tender touch against your skin was so comforting. maybe you could allow him to help a bit more if it meant sharing intimate moments like these.

[heliosunny]

okay.. one.. YOU'RE GENUINELY THE BEST WRITER ON THIS PLATFORM I THINK I'VE READ EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER WRITTEN.. two, a yandere phainon with a SO that keeps pushing him away due to thinking he's way too good for them, like moving countries typa pushing him away, just telling him like.. "You deserve someone way better, you're just misguided!".. etc

No Escape

Yandere!Phainon x Reader

The first time you saw Phainon, he was standing at the top of the academy’s marble steps, a faint breeze teasing at his silver hair as he spoke to someone important-looking. Even in a place filled with prodigies and elites, he stood out. Meanwhile, you were just another nameless student in the sea of faces, struggling to keep up in a world that never seemed to slow down.

You never expected to cross paths with him. But fate had a cruel sense of humor.

A few shared classes. A single partnered project. Then, somehow, Phainon kept appearing—offering to help you with assignments, walking with you between lessons, seeking you out in the crowded dining hall when he had a thousand better people to sit with. His attention was overwhelming.

You tried to brush it off as politeness. He had no reason to be interested in you. Maybe he pitied you. Maybe he was just nice to everyone. But no matter how much you convinced yourself of that, Phainon never looked at anyone else the way he looked at you.

It was supposed to be a simple experiment. A foundational potion—one that even first-years could brew without issue. Yet, somehow, you had still managed to mess it up.

The classroom was thick with the scent of crushed herbs and simmering liquids, cauldrons bubbling softly as students carefully followed the professor’s instructions. You and Phainon had been paired together, much to your dismay. Not because he was unpleasant—far from it. But because standing beside someone like him only highlighted how out of place you were.

“Careful” Phainon murmured as you reached for the powdered moonroot. “That’s starshade. If you mix that in, the potion will—”

A single spoonful of the wrong ingredient hit the potion’s surface before he could finish his warning. The liquid instantly turned a sickly green before erupting into a thick, foul-smelling smoke.

Coughing, you stumbled backward, barely able to make out Phainon’s silhouette through the haze. Around the room, other students were staring, some laughing, some groaning from second-hand embarrassment.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

When the smoke cleared, the professor pinched the bridge of her nose before marking something down on her clipboard. “Another failure” she sighed, shaking her head. “Mr. Phainon, I expected better.”

You glanced at him, feeling guilt twist in your gut. It wasn’t his fault—you were the one who had messed up. But Phainon merely smiled, completely unfazed. “Mistakes are part of learning”

If failing potions class was humiliating, then physical training was an absolute nightmare.

Magic broom exercises were a staple at the academy—a mix of aerial maneuvering and endurance meant to build both magical and physical control. For most students, it was exhilarating. For you, it was just another opportunity to fall flat on your face. Literally.

“Just kick off the ground lightly” Phainon instructed, hovering effortlessly beside you as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “Let the magic flow through you.”

That was easy for him to say.

Still, you grit your teeth and tried. The broom wobbled violently the moment your feet left the ground, and before you could steady yourself, it twisted sideways. You yelped as gravity took over, sending you crashing back onto the training field.

The instructor let out a long-suffering sigh. The other students snickered.

Phainon, of course, landed smoothly beside you, offering his hand. “Are you hurt?”

You groaned, rolling onto your back to stare at the sky instead of meeting his gaze. “Just my pride.”

There was a soft chuckle, and then—before you could stop him—Phainon crouched down and plucked a stray leaf from your hair.

“You’re improving” he said, completely sincere.

You gave him a skeptical look. “I literally just fell on my face.”

“You lasted two seconds longer this time.” His smile was slight but warm. “That’s progress.”

Something in your chest tightened. It was the way he looked at you—like you weren’t a failure, like he actually believed in you.

----

“You’re avoiding me”

You forced a smile, pretending not to feel the weight of his presence. “I’m just busy.”

“No, you’re not.”

You exhaled, shoulders tensing. “Phainon, you don’t understand. You shouldn’t be wasting your time with me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you deserve better,” you blurted out, frustration bleeding into your tone. “You deserve someone extraordinary, someone who belongs in your world—not me.”

A slow silence stretched between you.

“You think I don’t know what I want?”

“You’ll realize it one day.”

“I already have.” He stepped closer, “You’re the only thing I’ve ever been certain of.”

That was the problem.

Because one day, he would see the truth.

And that’s why you had to leave.

The village was quiet. Tucked away in a valley where the mountains shielded it from the outside world, where magic was nothing more than a story told to children before bed.

Here, you weren’t a failure. You weren’t a disappointment. You weren’t anything but yourself.

The people welcomed you easily enough. A newcomer with no past, no baggage—just willing hands and a desire to work. You took on whatever jobs you could. Fetching water, helping at the bakery, tending to the fields when the farmers needed an extra hand. It was hard work, but it was yours.

And best of all, Phainon wasn’t here.

Time moved differently in the village. The days stretched long beneath golden sunlight, the nights cool and filled with the sounds of crickets and rustling leaves. Slowly, the tension in your chest unraveled.

For the first time in years, you could breathe.

You stopped thinking about magic. Stopped thinking about what you left behind.

The village had become home. Years had passed since you arrived, and with time, you molded yourself into the life here, into the rhythm of simplicity. No one here knew of magic—no one needed to. You had left that world behind.

Until the day you were forced to use it again.

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon. You stood knee-deep in the river, feeling the gentle current brush against your legs as you worked to catch fish for dinner. The sun was warm, the air filled with the laughter of children playing nearby.

Then, a scream.

You turned just in time to see a boy, no older than six, trip over the edge of the riverbank. His friends gasped as he tumbled forward, the steep drop giving him no chance to stop himself before he plunged straight into the deeper part of the river.

The current was too strong. The boy’s small body disappeared beneath the surface, water swallowing his cries.

No one here could swim well enough to save him in time.

No one, except you.

But swimming alone wasn’t enough. By the time you got to him, it would be too late.

The promise you made to yourself—to never use magic again—shattered.

Without thinking, you raised your hand.

A whisper of energy, long buried, surged through your veins. The river stilled in an instant, the currents bending to your will. The water lifted, forming a controlled wave that carried the boy gently back to the shore, setting him down safely on the grass.

The children hadn’t spoken a word.

You had made sure of that.

After pulling them aside, you crouched down, “You can’t tell anyone what you saw. Not your parents, not your friends—no one. This is our little secret, alright?”

They had nodded, still wide-eyed from the miracle they had just witnessed. Thankfully, kids loved secrets. They thought of it as a game, something special just between you and them. For now, your peace was intact.

Or so you thought.

The next morning, you made your way back to the river, hoping to clear your mind. Maybe even push down the unease still twisting in your stomach. But as you approached, you froze.

Someone else was there.

And not just anyone. Him

Phainon sat comfortably on a fallen log, watching the children with a small, amused smile as they chattered excitedly around him. He looked out of place among them- too refined, like a painting come to life. And yet, he somehow blended in so effortlessly, laughing at their stories, ruffling their hair like an older brother would.

As if sensing your presence, he looked up. The moment his gaze met yours, time itself seemed to halt.

His expression softened, “Oh?” He rose to his feet, brushing off nonexistent dust from his coat. “I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

You took a step back instinctively, but he was already approaching.

“You look well” he murmured, eyes scanning you as if memorizing every detail. “This place suits you.”

“Phainon…”

“How…?” The question barely made it past your lips.

“How did I find you?” he finished for you, his smile deepening. “Come now, you know the answer to that.”

Of course, you did. He had never been the type to let go of something he wanted.

“Why are you here?” you asked, though you already knew.

“To take you back.”

The children, blissfully unaware of the weight in the air, tugged at his sleeve, asking if he would play another round of their game. He chuckled, indulging them for just a moment longer before returning his attention to you.

“I’ve been very patient” he said, “But you’ve had your fun, haven’t you? A few years of pretending to be someone else, living a quiet life in hiding.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you could hear.

“But you belong with me.”

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to stay calm. The river murmured beside you, its steady rhythm grounding you against the storm that had just arrived in your life.

“I’m not going back” you said, keeping your voice even. “I built a life here. A normal, happy life.”

Phainon hummed as if considering your words, but the knowing glint in his eyes never faded. “A happy life, is it?” He glanced around at the quiet village in the distance, at the carefree children still playing near the water. “I see. It’s charming. Simple. Safe.” His gaze flickered back to you, sharper now. “But is it really yours?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve been pretending.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Haven’t you?” He stepped closer, and you resisted the urge to back away. “You came here running, hiding, trying to erase the parts of yourself that didn’t fit into this little picture-perfect village. But you can’t change who you are.”

“Even if I wanted to return—which I don’t—you’re not just expecting me to go back to that world, to the academy, to the annoying people?” You studied him, searching for an answer you already knew. “You want me to stay by your side.”

You exhaled, “I deserve to be where I choose.”

“Then prove it.”

“…What?”

Phainon gestured around, as if presenting the village itself. “You say you belong here. That this life is what you truly want. So, I’ll stay.” He smiled, voice light but unmistakably firm. “I’ll see it for myself.”

“If you’re right,” he continued smoothly, “then I’ll leave. I’ll never bring this up again.”

A lump formed in your throat. You knew him too well—Phainon never agreed to something without confidence in the outcome.

“But if I’m right…Then you’re coming home with me.”

“Fine.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

----

Phainon blended in effortlessly.

He smiled at the villagers, greeted them politely, and answered their curious questions with practiced ease. They saw a charming, well-mannered traveler—someone elegant yet approachable, someone who belonged in the outside world but was humble enough to appreciate their quiet life.

But you knew better. Every kind word, every gentle laugh, every playful interaction with the children—it was all a mask. A carefully crafted act.

Because beneath that smile, Phainon hated them.

He hated the way they spoke to you like you were one of them. Hated the way they relied on you, trusted you, called you their own. Hated that you had given them years of your life—years that should have been his.

And worst of all, he hated that you thought they were your home.

You kept a close eye on him as he spent his first day in the village.

He helped an elderly woman carry a basket of vegetables from the market. Listened to the local blacksmith talk about his craft with genuine-seeming interest. Even played with the children again, letting them tug at his sleeves and drag him into their games.

And yet, you could see it.

The slight hesitation before he let them touch him. The way his fingers twitched, as if suppressing the urge to recoil. The empty warmth in his voice when he praised them.

To anyone else, he was nothing but kind.

His patience was razor-thin.

This was a test—for you, for them.

He was waiting. Waiting for the moment you would finally realize what he already knew. That these people weren’t your home. That this place wasn’t enough for you.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped into the horizon, you found Phainon sitting outside the small cottage you called home. He looked up at you with a smile, a book resting on his lap.

“How was your day?” he asked, as if this was normal, as if he hadn’t just invaded the life you built.

“I should be asking you that.”

He chuckled. “The village is… charming.”

“They’re good people” you said carefully.

“Are they?”... I’ll admit, it’s impressive how long you lasted here”

You clenched your jaw. “I’m still here.”

“For now.”

----

The scent of fresh flowers filled the small shop, delicate petals brushing against your fingers as you arranged the newest bouquet. It was peaceful here—one of the few places in the village where you could find solace. A quiet, colorful haven where no one expected too much from you.

But today, peace was a fleeting thing.

Because Phainon was here.

Seated gracefully near the counter, he idly turned a flower between his fingers, the picture of effortless charm. The sunlight filtering through the window caught the silver strands of his hair, highlighting the striking contrast of his sharp, elegant features.

And, of course, the ladies noticed.

They had been stopping by all morning, some of them customers, others just looking for an excuse to linger. They giggled, twirled strands of their hair, asked far too many questions about him.

Phainon, as always, indulged them.

He smiled, listened with amused interest, even complimented them in that smooth, easy tone of his. It was effortless—just like back in the academy days, when people gravitated toward him like moths to a flame.

You exhaled sharply, setting down the bouquet you had been working on.

“I must say” one of the women giggled, resting a hand on the counter as she looked at Phainon through her lashes, “you don’t seem like a traveler at all. You carry yourself like someone of noble blood.”

Phainon chuckled, twirling the flower in his hand. “Do I?”

You didn’t miss the amusement in his tone.

If only they knew.

Another woman leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Are you staying long? It would be a shame if someone like you just disappeared.”

“I suppose that depends.”

His gaze flickered toward you for just a second—so brief no one else would’ve caught it. But you did.

Your fingers tightened around the bouquet’s stems.

He wanted to see how you would react. If you would push him away. If you would feel something. So you said nothing. You grabbed a pair of scissors, focused on trimming the leaves, and ignored him entirely.

The women kept fawning over him, unaware of the silent tension beneath the surface. And through it all, Phainon smiled.

But you knew him too well.

Beneath that easy charm, there was something sharper. A quiet, unspoken warning.

By the third day, the village had fully embraced Phainon as a welcome guest. His charm and helpful demeanor had won over the villagers, and they spoke of him with admiration. But beneath his courteous exterior, a storm was brewing.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the village, Phainon approached you with a serene smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"It's time to end this charade"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Return with me, or face the consequences."

Swallowing your fear, you shook your head. "I won't go back. This is my home now."

Phainon's smile faded entirely, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "Very well."

Without another word, he raised his hand, and a surge of energy crackled through the air. Flames erupted from the thatched roof of a nearby cottage, quickly spreading as villagers screamed and scrambled to extinguish the fire.

"Stop!" you cried, reaching out instinctively.

Phainon turned to you, his eyes devoid of mercy. "This is just the beginning. For every day you refuse to come with me, more of this village will burn."

Tears blurred your vision as you watched the chaos unfold. The people who had taken you in, who had become your family, were now suffering because of you.

"Please," you whispered, voice trembling. "Don't hurt them."

He stepped closer, gently cupping your face with a hand that had just wrought destruction. "Then make the right choice. Come with me, and they will be spared."

Defeated and broken, you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I'll go with you."

"Good. We leave at dawn."

As he walked away, you fell to your knees, the weight of your decision crushing your spirit. The village would survive, but at the cost of your freedom.

The journey back was quiet.

You sat beside Phainon in the carriage, staring out the window as the village faded into the distance. A hollow ache settled in your chest, your hands clenched into fists against your lap.

You had fought so hard to stay. To build something for yourself.

And yet, here you were.

Dragged back to the place you ran from.

The silence was suffocating, but Phainon seemed completely at ease. He sat comfortably across from you.

Finally, you exhaled sharply, unable to hold it in any longer. “Why?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Why what?”

“Why me? You’re—you’re Phainon. Talented. Admired.” You forced yourself to look at him. “You could have anyone. People worship the ground you walk on. So why are you wasting your time with someone like me?”

For a brief moment, Phainon simply studied you, as if the question itself was absurd.

“You truly don’t understand, do you?”

“Understand what?”

“You are mine. You were meant to be by my side.”

“That’s not—”

“You say I could have anyone.” His smile widened, amusement glinting in his eyes. “You’re right. But I don’t want anyone else.”

His grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, enough to make your pulse spike.

“I want you.”

Phainon exhaled through his nose, his usual composed demeanor slipping just a little.

“You always do this” he murmured, shaking his head as if disappointed. “You keep pushing me away like I’m some foolish child chasing after something fleeting.”

His fingers slid away from your wrist.

“I thought you understood me better than that.”

“I don’t understand you at all.”

Phainon’s lips pressed into a thin line. He leaned back against the seat, regarding you with something unreadable.

“Do you remember,” he started, “that day in the alchemy class? When you nearly blew us both up?”

“What…?”

“You misread the measurements, mixed the wrong ingredients.” His gaze darkened, but there was no malice in it. Just something strangely… fond. “And instead of panicking, instead of trying to shift the blame like most people would, you just—” He let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. “You just looked at me with guilt and then laughed to brush it off.”

You had laughed. Not because it was funny, but because you were so used to failing.

“That was the first time in years someone had laughed with me. Not to impress me. Not to get my attention.”

You glanced away, unsure what to say.

But Phainon wasn’t finished.

“And then there was that time during flight practice.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You were terrible.”

Your lips parted, indignant. “I wasn’t that bad—”

“You crashed into a tree.”

You winced. Okay, maybe you were that bad.

Phainon exhaled, rubbing his temple. “I should have been annoyed. It was a waste of time, and you dragged me down with you.” He lowered his hand, his eyes locking onto yours again. “But instead, I found myself fascinated.”

“Wait- Why?”

His lips parted, then closed again, as if choosing his words carefully. And then, finally—

“Because you weren’t afraid to be imperfect.”

“You struggled. You failed. You made mistakes.” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “But you never let that stop you. You never pretended to be something you weren’t.”

“I grew up surrounded by people who only showed me what they thought I wanted to see. People who wore their own masks, desperate to be flawless, desperate to be noticed.” His jaw clenched. “But you… you never tried to be anything but yourself.”

His fingers curled slightly, as if resisting the urge to reach for you.

“And I—” He exhaled, almost shakily. “I couldn’t look away.”

The carriage fell into silence.

The weight of Phainon’s confession hung between you, suffocating in its intensity. His words should have meant something—should have been enough to prove he wasn’t just chasing an illusion.

And yet, your hands still trembled in your lap.

Because no matter how much he thought he loved you—

It was still wrong.

“So what?” you whispered, voice hoarse. “Just because you like those things about me, you think that justifies everything?”

Phainon’s brows furrowed slightly.

“You burned my home, Phainon.” You clenched your jaw, trying to keep the anger from breaking into something weaker. “You threatened innocent people just to get me back. That isn’t love. That’s—”

His hand lashed out, gripping your wrist before you could recoil. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that you felt the unspoken don’t you dare finish that sentence.

His usual composed mask cracked—just slightly, just enough to reveal something darker beneath the surface.

“I did what I had to do.” His voice was quiet, almost calm, but there was a tremor beneath it. A barely-contained storm. “You left me. You threw yourself away like you were nothing. Like we were nothing.” His fingers tightened, just a fraction. “And I wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“Wasn’t it?”

His other hand came up, brushing against your cheek—“You think I could just let you go? Just sit back and watch while you buried yourself in a life that was never meant for you?”

His fingers curled, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look into his eyes.

“You think I could ever be okay with that?”

Your throat went dry. Because this was it. The moment he stopped pretending.

“You belong with me.” His voice dropped lower, “You always have. And I don’t care how long it takes—how much you fight, how many times you try to run.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting against your skin.

“I will always bring you back.”

You knew you couldn’t fight him head-on—not now, not when he was stronger, more prepared. But you had to try.

So you made your move.

With a sharp twist of your wrist, magic surged through your veins. The carriage around you blurred, the air crackling as you poured everything into a single desperate spell— Escape.

The moment your body flickered out of existence, you reappeared outside, stumbling onto the forest road. You didn’t wait. You ran.

Twigs snapped beneath your feet as you pushed forward, lungs burning. The wind howled past your ears, the distant hoot of an owl the only sound in the otherwise eerie silence.

A presence loomed behind you.

A hand seized your wrist.

Your entire body jerked backward as a grip yanked you off your feet. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as you collided with something solid.

The scent of embers and something faintly sweet filled your senses.

“Really now,” Phainon’s voice drawled “Did you honestly think you could get away?”

You thrashed, kicking, clawing—anything to loosen his hold—

But his grip only tightened, effortlessly caging you against him.

“You already knew how this would end.”

“No—! Put me down—!”

“Now, now,” Phainon mused, carrying you effortlessly through the forest as if you weren’t fighting him with every ounce of your strength. “If you didn’t resist this much…”

His fingers trailed up your back, sending a sharp chill through you.

“I’d go easy on you.”

The moment Phainon’s home came into view, dread twisted in your stomach. The towering walls loomed over you, the polished stone gleaming beneath the moonlight. Once, this place had simply been part of the academy grounds. Now, it felt more like a prison.

And you were being dragged back inside.

The heavy doors shut behind you with a thud that might as well have been the slamming of a cage. Phainon finally set you down, but his grip never left your wrist. You yanked at it instinctively, but he only pulled you closer, forcing you to face him.

“You’ve tired yourself out,” he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face as if you weren’t staring at him in outright defiance. “You should rest.”

“I don’t want to rest. I want to leave.”

“And where would you go? Back to that village?” A quiet scoff. “Do you think they’d still want you after what happened?”

He was wrong. They wouldn’t blame you. They couldn’t. But his words still wormed their way into your thoughts, planting doubt where there shouldn’t have been any.

“You see? There’s nowhere else for you, love. The world out there doesn’t deserve you. It never did.”

Your hands trembled. “That doesn’t mean you do.”

“You can fight me” he murmured. “You can scream, run, struggle. But it won’t change anything. Because in the end, I will always find you.”

“I will always bring you back.”

And as he leaned in, his lips barely a breath away from your ear, he whispered—

“So stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

[marichive]

𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌

A collection of prompts centered around love & desire, taken from various sources. Adjust gender / pronouns / wording / etc. as needed. Some prompts are highly suggestive in nature. Engage appropriately.

─── 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞

❝ It’s nothing, I just . . . I’m glad you’re here. ❞

❝ Could you stay with me? Just for a little while longer? ❞

❝ If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets. ❞

❝ I can feel your heart beating in your chest. ❞

❝ Just a kiss. That’s all I ask. ❞

❝ I will always be yours. ❞

❝ You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had, ❞

❝ You make me feel safe. ❞

❝ You’ll always have a place here. ❞

❝ I’ve never felt like this before. ❞

❝ I’m afraid of what I feel. But . . . I think just that means it’s something worth feeling. ❞

❝ I have loved you from the moment I first heard my name fall from your lips. ❞

❝ Go back to sleep. I promise I will still be here when you wake. ❞

❝ Nothing and no one can hurt you. Not while I’m here. ❞

❝ I don’t want you in my life. You are my life. ❞

❝ I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to waste another moment I could spend with you. ❞

❝ I want you, just as you are. ❞

❝ You love me. Real, or not real? ❞

❝ I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you. ❞

❝ You are, and always have been, my dream. ❞

─── 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

❝ I’ve always wanted you. Only you. ❞

❝ Can’t you see what you do to me? ❞

❝ Don’t you understand? I would do anything for you. ❞

❝ You are my undoing. I cannot tell if you will be my ruin or my salvation, and I’m no longer sure if I care which it will be. ❞

❝ When I look at you, I see something divine. Something holy. ❞

❝ It’s you I want to worship. I will make supplication to your lips and offer my prayers at the altar between your knees. ❞

❝ I was a monster and you made me a man. ❞

❝ For your sake, I am debased. For you alone, I am weak. ❞

❝ I would lay the whole earth at your feet if you asked it of me. The sun, the moon, and all the stars, I would make them yours. ❞

❝ What I feel for you is not gentle, nor meek. It is not beautiful. It wretched, it is dark and depraved with desire. And it is consuming me whole. ❞

❝ Break my heart if you wish, but the pieces will still be yours. ❞

❝ Tell me you do not feel it, and I will name you a liar. ❞

❝ You are far too good for unworthy hands like mine ❞

❝ To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves. ❞

❝ I fear if I let you touch me, I will fall apart. ❞

❝ There are certain things we must not want, yet I find myself wanting them nonetheless. ❞

❝ I need you. I need to have you. I need to make you mine. ❞

❝ You ruined me in my heart long before you ever touched my skin. ❞

❝ Must I beg? Must I fall to my knees and plead for the mercy of your touch? ❞

❝ I want it to be my name that you call in the dead of night, my name that rests upon your tongue when your body shivers. Mine alone. ❞

─── 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

❝ I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. ❞

❝ You deserve better than that. ❞

❝ I lie awake at night in restless agony, wishing you were there beside me. ❞

❝ Do you not know how you haunt me? ❞

❝ In my dreams, I am yours. ❞

❝ I am to wed someone else. ❞

❝ Does he make you feel like this? ❞

❝ We both know who you’re truly thinking of when you’re with him. ❞

❝ You taste sweeter than she ever could. ❞

❝ She’s not the one I want. ❞

❝ Just because I know I can’t have you, it doesn't change what I feel for you. ❞

❝ He’s not good for you. ❞

❝ Every time I see you with him it kills me a little more inside. ❞

❝ Let me go. The more we hold on to this, the more it will hurt us both. ❞

❝ This is not allowed of us. We mustn’t – ❞

❝ Put aside your pride and admit that you want me. ❞

❝ Will I only ever be worthy of stolen moments in the shadows? ❞

❝ If he puts his hands on you again, I’ll cut them off. ❞

❝ When I’m with her, I pretend that it’s you. ❞

❝ Does he know? ❞

─── 𝐚𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬

❝ Say you love me, and I know it will all be okay. ❞

❝ Do you know how long I have waited for this? For the day I could hold you in my arms and call you mine? ❞

❝ I fought for this. For you. ❞

❝ I never stopped loving you. I was only afraid of what you were becoming. ❞

❝ Come back. Even as a shadow. Even as a dream. ❞

❝ To feel anything deranges you. To be seen feeling anything strips you naked. ❞

❝ When I desire you a part of me is gone. ❞

❝ Desire doubled is love, and love doubled is madness. ❞

❝ I suppose you do love me, in your way. ❞

❝ Love does not make me gentle or kind. ❞

❝ I desire the things which will destroy me in the end. ❞

❝ There is a gentle thought that often springs to life in me, because it speaks of you. ❞

❝ The gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy. ❞

❝ I should not have waited so long. I should have kissed you every night and every day. You were made to be kissed, often and well. ❞

❝ I crossed a thousand leagues to come to you. Don’t tell me to leave. ❞

❝ Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same. ❞

❝ You're mine. Mine, as I'm yours. And if we die, we die. All men must die. But first, we'll live. ❞

❝ My sword is yours. My life is yours. My heart is yours. ❞

❝ We all dream of things we cannot have. ❞

❝ Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! ❞

[kurokawaia]

Unlike Sasuke, Itachi is a lot more subtle when he sees you wearing the Uchiha symbol for the first time, but that doesn't mean he isn't even more possessive. It is as simple as warming up inside one of Itachi's nemaki's, curling up into the charcoal hued cotton on the bed, awaiting for his return. There are reasons to why you don yourself in his clothing while he's away, the main one being is you miss him, you miss his smell, the soft scent of mint and musk that floated around him, his embrace, his touch. So, the moment the door to your shared room shacks open, sliding against the floor, you immediately perk up on your arms, the material falling down one of your arms, pooling at your elbow. Instantly, you jump up from the bed and throw your arms tightly around Itachi's neck, burying your face into his chest and he reciprocates the action, arms wrapping around your figure. Itachi lets out a relieved sigh knowing that you're alright, along with his heart swelling from how much he has missed you, every time he leaves it is a task, your touch is so comforting and warm, something he craves from you. Itachi's face slightly moves up from your neck and his eyes meet with the mirror to the horizontal to the bed, he instantly sees the Uchiha Clan embroidery on the back of his nemaki. His arms begin to securely latch themselves onto you body, hands trailing slowly from your hips to your waist, then up your back as a wave of possession washed over him. Not only possession but pride as well because all he wanted to do at that moment was toss you onto the bed and claim you over and over again as his. That there, is exactly what his goal was but a better idea came into his mind. It wasn't too long before your breathless under his touch, breathing heavy moans from his kisses until Itachi is sat on the edge of the bed with you seated on top of him. Your back is pressed tight to his bare, toned chest, his knees spreading apart your legs so the both of you can see how your pretty pussy is taking every inch of his cock in the mirror. You didn't even know what to do with your own hands, resorting to holding his wrists, but that wasn't stopping his advances and you aren't complaining as his touch on your nude body is enough to send both you and him reeling. You're all his...

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

honey's a/note :: it was not supposed to be this long i swear (┬┬﹏┬┬) i was getting carried away... this was about to turn into a full oneshot but i had to reel myself in

[neoraso]

bf things with boynextdoor

03z + 04z

sungho

cooks for you without a second thought. wants his baby fed and even before you started dating he always made extra when he knew you were coming around

sticks up for you always. if he sees ANYONE mistreating or teasing you too much he makes sure to end it there.

thinks you're THE funniest person alive. laughs harder and smiles more when you're around

lots of dates (shopping, cafe, eating, museums,etc.) but also loves to just stay in, cook and watch movies with you, talking and cuddling, he serenades you sometimes playfully >_<

loves to play with your hair and hold your hands- so simple but its so endearing and special to him to feel the back of your hand or your fingers curled in his own.

riwoo

was literally so shy around you before you started dating, now you are the person he feels most at home with. he doesn’t say it all the time but it shows when he’s around other people

carries your bags for you, holds your drink, etc. with no hesitance- even if someone points it out

is quite observant about your moods, habits, likes and dislikes. prides himself on knowing things about you no one else seems to care about-especially when he pulls out the most thoughtful gifts that leave you floored

feels a sense of responsibility for your care and overall wellbeing, but also feels incredibly comforted and safe with you

loves to share food and treats with you, all the time but especially when you look like you need a pick me up

jaehyun

he tries to not hang off of you like a backpack but fails within an hour and especially at night

everyone he introduces you to, coworkers, family members, friends, etc., all act like they know you from how much he talks about you. he thinks the world of you and loves to brag

every time he sees you it's like you've been gone for 6 years, even if it's only been a day; hugs so tight and gives 1 billion kisses, coos at you

an obvious mention: cute aggression that occurs so often it might be like a chronic affliction... srsly... kisses your face and head with a surprising amount of force and ur literally js sitting there, minding ur business

he elevates you. he's a great guy who you know deserves the world and it makes you want to live up to that. he feels the same about you and you guys encourage each other to be your best selves.

taesan

loves to have matching items with you (will spend hours customizing shoes or hats for you both)

loves days in where u just listen to whatever records you picked up the last time he brought you to the shop and lay there or slow dance around

lovessss meaningful gifts and gestures. will buy or make you snacks when you’re stressed or just bc would steal the moon for you if you asked

thinks everything you do is so cute and perfect and wonderful. literally so biased he will choose you to win over anyone

likes to pick you up from work or school even if its just to walk to the bus stop together and ride home (greatest protector award goes to…!!!)

leehan

your rock. soothes all your worries no matter how silly they seem. says really profound things like they're simple and- you guess they are when he’s around.

treats you oh so softly; tucks your hair behind your ears, pulls you into a hug like you're glass

nothing is embarrassing to him, he will wash your hair, shave your legs, brush your teeth for you. just ask and he’s there

likes when you sit with him while he watches his fishies,, you dont even have to be watching too but he feels so content with both of his favorite things to be around

the type where if you fall asleep on the couch instead of moving you, he'll just slip next to you to sleep too <<33

[mononijikayu]

only fools fall for you (only fools) — fushiguro toji.

Toji let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless. "You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t see the way you choose this life over them? Over me?" "I’m doing this for them too, you bastard." you snapped, gripping the phone so tightly your fingers ached. "So they have something to hold onto. So they never have to struggle the way we did." "Bullshit." The word hit like a slap. “What do you mean by that?” "You’re doing this for you. Just like I do it for me." His voice wasn’t angry anymore. If anything, that made it worse. He just sounded tired.

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, explicit smut, sexual intercourse, making out, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, creampie, angst, romance, teasing, hurt/comfort, pet names (babe, etc....), age gap (reader is early 40s, toji mid 50s), marriage, long-term relationship, infidelity/cheating, toxic relationship, illness, drama, slice of life, married life, emotional repression, family life, children, distress, regret, longing, profanity, acting, actors, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of naked bodies, depiction of emotional repression, mention of sexual innuendo, depiction of illness, mention of sexual intercourse, mention of secrets, mention of toxic relationship, mention of illness, actor! toji, actor! nanami, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 16k words

NOTE: i realized that the more i expounded on this universe, the more there i had to alter things because if i dont they might become plot holes. i edited the ages here. toji's reader is much younger than he is. though its certain to say there was a power imbalance, even if they dated when she was like 19 to 20. all the more to say there's nothing to root for in this relationship.

they were together in the beginning of reader's career and now that she's much older too. she's maybe gojo's age. nanami's reader is in the same age ranger as toji and nanami. the kids though are around the same ages. though tsumiki is at least six years younger than keiko and kenshin is a year or two older than tsumiki. anyway, i love you all!!! enjoy the series~

masterlist

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the good life ― masterlist.

TODAY WAS EIGHTEEN YEARS OF MARRIAGE FOR THE TWO OF YOU. If you were being honest, you never thought you both would ever get here. Not because you didn’t love him. If anything, loving Toji was the one thing that had always come easy. It was just as easy as breathing, just as grievous as your eyes starting into the light of the blistering sun.

There was a lot that came together with such a marriage between people like you. It was everything that you didn’t think was hard before all the deliverance of parenthood. Everything you weren’t used to. Everything that just made it a little harder to leave. Everything that made it a little harder to stare at your husband in the eye. 

There was too much that could have gone on in those eighteen years. You could barely count it. You could barely recall it. It would not be enough to sit there and talk about it either. But that was just how it was. There will always be distance, sacrifices, and to make it even worse, that putrid stubborn pride that ran deep in both of you.

You were both actors, constantly chasing roles, dreams, and paychecks, all while being parents to your young children, Tsumiki and Megumi, who, more often than not, lived with nannies more than they lived with you or Toji, regrettably.

Yet you both tried to be there, as much as you could. There should, unfortunately, be great emphasis on trying, for you were only good at trying but not succeeding. There could only be so much you could do so well before you end up admitting defeat.

Everything was hectic. Chaotic. The kind of life people envied from the outside but had no idea was slowly eroding you from the inside. One year, it was you flying across the world for a project, kissing their sleepy faces goodbye while Toji stayed home. 

The next, it was him, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispered, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Except it was never before you knew it.

It was long nights filled with blurry video calls, your kids’ faces pixelated as they recounted their days with excitement you struggled to keep up with. It was birthdays missed, watching Tsumiki blow out candles through a screen, clapping and smiling as if you didn’t feel like the worst mother alive. It was Megumi getting hurt at school, calling Toji first—not you.

There was a bitter realization that, at some point, you had fallen from first place in your children’s list of people to run to. And each time there was an incident like that, there were whispered arguments over the phone when the time difference meant you were half-asleep, his voice tight with frustration. You couldn't help it. You were a mother, who couldn’t be there. You were a bad mother, that’s what you think. Because you didn’t know how to help them.

“You said you’d be back last week.”

"Yeah, well, the shoot got extended. What do you want me to do, walk out?"

Your voice came out sharper than you intended, frustration laced in every syllable. You were exhausted, standing in the dim glow of your hotel room, the weight of the day pressing against your shoulders. 

The clock on your phone read 2:37 AM at the time. Back home, it was the middle of the afternoon. You were sure that Megumi’s soccer practice was probably ending, and Tsumiki was likely doing her homework at the dining table.

And your husband Toji, well he was at home. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was at the gym, or out drinking, or somewhere else entirely. The fact that you didn’t know only made your irritation flare hotter than ever before. 

"For once in your goddamn life, just—just be here."

There was a beat of silence. Static crackled softly between you. Then, your husband Toji exhaled, rather long and slow, the way he always did when he was trying not to lose his temper. The way he had always been told at therapy.

"And what, you think I don’t want to be?" His voice was quieter now, but sharp, a blade dulled only at the edges. "You think I don’t want to be with them? With you?"

You scoffed, rubbing your temple. "If you wanted to be here, you would be."

"That’s rich, coming from you."

Your breath caught. Because he was right. He was always right about this. You left just as much as he did. You buried yourself in work, in scripts, in characters that weren’t you because it was easier than admitting that being at home, being a wife, being a mother….it was sometimes harder than anything a director could throw your way.

Toji let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless. "You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t see the way you choose this life over them? Over me?"

"I’m doing this for them too, you bastard." you snapped, gripping the phone so tightly your fingers ached. "So they have something to hold onto. So they never have to struggle the way we did."

"Bullshit."

The word hit like a slap. “What do you mean by that?”

"You’re doing this for you. Just like I do it for me." His voice wasn’t angry anymore. If anything, that made it worse. He just sounded tired.

And maybe that was the worst part of it all is that he knew you too well. That no matter how much you tried to justify it, no matter how many times you told yourself you were building a better future for your family, Toji saw right through it. He saw you. Just as much as you saw through him.

"You’re the one who told me we’d figure it out," he said after a long silence. "That we’d make it work. So tell me, sweetheart—when does that part start?"

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t know.

Toji had always hated fighting over the phone, always saying it was pointless when you couldn’t look each other in the eye. But that didn’t stop you. Not when resentment had been festering for years, not when every conversation started feeling like a negotiation instead of a moment to miss each other.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It was never just him. It was never just you. It was the both of you, forever chasing something outside of each other, stretching ourselves too thin and expecting love to hold it all together. And yet, even when the walls closed in, even when the bitterness threatened to tip the scale, you both stayed. Even if staying only meant trying over and over again. Even when it was already beyond repair.

You couldn’t help yourself. You just couldn’t.

Because how could you be, without him?

There were times when you wished one of you had been strong enough to walk away. It would have been easier, wouldn’t it? To throw in the towel, sign the papers, make a clean break instead of dragging each other through years of exhaustion and unspoken wounds. It would have been merciful. 

But mercy had never been your strong suit. Neither had Fushiguro Toji’s. Instead, you stayed in this cycle of breaking and mending, pushing and pulling, making love and making war, until you couldn’t tell the difference between them anymore.

"Have you ever thought about leaving?"

You had asked him once, during one of those rare nights when you both found yourselves in the same bed, staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping. There were no cameras, no scripts, no rehearsed lines around you, nothing that could stop the truth from coming out of your lips.

It was just the two of you, tangled in silence, caught between the weight of everything you had built and everything you had broken. Toji didn’t answer right away. He just exhaled, long and heavy, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yeah." The honesty of it stung, but not as much as his next words. “Multiple times.”

“Well, that’s the most honest you’ve been with me.”

“At least not while I’m drunk.” He says almost too quickly after you. Silence dwells for a moment after his breath. "But then I remember I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you, babe. I really don’t."

You turned your head, searching for something in his profile. There was that familiar furrow in his strong brow, the line of his jaw, the way his fingers drummed a slow, absentminded rhythm against his well toned stomach.

"That’s not…….you know what I mean, Toji." 

He snorted, dry and humorless. "Never said it was.”

“But…..do you love me?”

“What sort of question is that?” He snickers back at you. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Those three words have become a taboo between the two of you. Only fools said those sorts of things to each other. It was too sacred, too honest, too passionate, too loving, too good. These were things you and Toji have long stopped being. 

A beat passed. A breath. And then, before you could stop yourself, before you could think about the consequences of asking, the words slipped out. "Not even when Tsumiki isn’t yours?"

This time, Toji didn’t hesitate at all with his response. He let out a sharp, cynical laugh, the kind that wasn’t really a laugh at all. You could see the way his muscle tenses each time the talk is brought up between the two of you—even in childish fights. You wanted to see each other hurt. You wanted to see each other burn.

And yet, this moment was real. It was tender. You meant it this time, to ask him about this. Not out of malice, not to exploit him where it hurts. Instead, you meant it with all your heart. You were finally being genuine.

"I cheated on you, and that’s the result." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. 

No excuses, no justifications. The truth, laid out in the open between you. The one neither of you ever talked about, the one you had swallowed down for years, pretending it didn’t fester beneath the surface. He turned his head then, finally looking at you, dark eyes unreadable in the dim light of your bedroom.

"But that’s the past." His voice was quieter now, but firmer, like it was something he had told himself over and over again. Like it was something he needed to believe.

“Yes.” You whispered to him in reply, just as quietly. “It is.”

"She’s my daughter." His fingers clenched slightly against the sheets before he forced them to relax. "Not anyone else’s. Just mine.”

You swallowed. Because you knew Toji meant it. He had never treated Tsumiki any differently, never once let her believe she was anything other than his. He had tucked her into bed, taught her how to ride a bike, held her when she cried over scraped knees and schoolyard heartbreaks. 

And yet, you had wondered—selfishly, cruelly—if he had ever resented her.

 If he had ever looked at her and seen the biggest mistake of his life.

"Do you ever think about it?" you whispered, because you needed to know.

Toji exhaled sharply through his nose. "Every fucking day."

The admission settled between you like a bruise, dark and aching. “....I see.”

"But not the way you think." His hand found yours then, fingers slipping between yours, rough and warm, calloused from years of fights and work and holding on too tightly.

“What do you mean by that?”

"I don’t think about the way she got here." He squeezed your hand once. "I just think about what my life would look like if she wasn’t in it."

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "And?"

Toji’s lips twitched, something softer flickering across his expression before it faded just as quickly. "And it’d be a hell of a lot worse."

You turned your head back to the ceiling, blinking against the tightness in your throat. "Yeah."

And just like that, the past. All the ugly, unspoken, unforgivable past seemed to settle back into silence. Where it always had been. Where it always would be. But he had reached for your hand, fingers tangling with yours, holding tight. And you had let him. 

Maybe that was all you had left now. It was not truthful love, not at all. It was not as bright. It was not that burning thing it had once been, but something else. Yet maybe that was for the best. You would not have lasted this long without it.

You were content with this, your little something. Something quieter. Something heavier. Something built from shared history, shared destruction, and the fear of a world where the other no longer existed in it. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. But it was yours. And for eighteen years, it had been enough.

You swirl the wine in your glass, watching how the deep red clings to the sides. It reminds you of the past, of nights spent drowning in resentment, of fights that left unseen wounds, of years where you weren’t sure whether you hated him or hated yourself more.

You glance at Toji. He looks the same as he always does. Still rough around the edges, too handsome for his own good, wearing that perpetual smirk like life has never been cruel to him. But you know better. You see the things no one else does. The guilt that still lingers on both your hearts, the weight of  endless mistakes that can’t ever be undone.

"I cheated on you, and that’s the result."

The words still echo in your head, not painful anymore. It was just a memory now, faded at the edges. Because you had made your mistakes, too. You had your own sins to answer for. But unlike him, you don’t feel guilty. At least, not anymore. Mrs. Kento freed you. As much as you had freed yourself. 

Maybe you should. Maybe you would have some shame. Maybe, in another life, you would have. But in this one, in this marriage that has been more war than love, you learned long ago that guilt was a luxury. It was for people who wanted to atone, people who wished things had gone differently.

You have no regrets now.

But Toji did. He always would.

You had forgiven him, after all.

Yet he knows you’ll never forget.

You see it now, in the way he glances at you between sips of his drink, like he’s waiting for something. Punishment? Forgiveness? You’re not sure. Maybe he’s not, either. But it’s too late to give one on your part. You were too exhausted with that game. And you were a fool. The best thing a woman like you could be. Well, at least that’s what you think.

"What?" you ask, tilting your head.

He exhales through his nose, a soft huff of laughter. "Nothing."

But it’s not nothing. You know him too well for that. "You look like you got something to say."

"I don’t."

"Liar."

He smirks at that, shaking his head. For a moment, the weight between you lifts, the bitterness dulling into something more tolerable. "Eighteen years, huh?" he says, leaning back in his chair. "Didn’t think we’d make it this far."

"Neither did I." You take a sip of your wine, letting it settle on your tongue before swallowing. "Yet here we are."

"Here we are." He clinks his glass against yours. "Still standing."

You arch a brow. "Barely."

He grins. "Still counts."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. Because maybe Toji was right. Maybe it did count.Maybe, despite all the years of hurt and betrayal and anger, despite everything you lost along the way, you both still tried. And maybe, just maybe — that was enough.

You kissed him, pouring all your pent-up emotions into it with that drunken spirit. Your lips moved against his with a desperate urgency, as if you were trying to make up for all the years you'd wasted apart. Toji’s hands were everywhere, roaming your body with a possessive hunger. He gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss. 

You gasped for breath, consumed by him, by the feel of his lips, his hands, his body pressed against yours. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The past, the future, the world outside —  it all faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other's arms.

Toji's massive hands gripped your hips painfully, his fingers digging into your flesh as he yanked you against him. His kiss was brutal, punishing, as if he were trying to devour you whole. They always were.

You gasped, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs. Toji's tongue invaded your mouth, dominating, claiming, leaving no room for protest. His hands roamed your body possessively, squeezing and groping as if he owned every inch of you.

"We belong to each other, don’t we?" He growled against your lips, his voice laced with a toxic mix of bitterness and affection and desire."You've always been mine, and I'm never letting you go again."

Toji ripped your shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. He tore at your bra, freeing your breasts, and palmed them roughly. His touch was painful, bordering on cruel, but your body betrayed you, nipples hardening under his calloused hands.

Toji's mouth descended on your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he marked you. He sucked hard, intent on leaving a bruise, a visible claim of ownership. His hands slid down your body, popping the button on your skirt and yanking down the zipper. 

Toji hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging both your skirt and underwear down in one brutal motion. He spun you around, bending you over the nearest surface, not caring what it was.

Toji kicked your legs apart, his hand coming down hard on your bare ass. The sharp sting made you cry out, but he ignored it, his fingers digging into your hips as he positioned himself behind you.

"Toji….please." you gasped, your voice a mix of pain and plea. 

But your husband wasn't listening. He was lost in his own twisted desire, driven by all these years that had come about this marriage. He was always like this when it comes to that.

You don’t blame him. You both were the worst people you knew. And he was desperate most of the time to pretend that the innocence of your love before this was still there.   

He drowned in you as he let his hips snapped forward, his cock plunging into you with a force that stole your breath. He set a punishing pace, each thrust designed to hurt, to claim, to dominate. Toji's hand came down on your ass again, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. Tears streamed down your face, a mix of pain and unwanted pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You're mine, babe." Toji growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Say it. Say you're mine." His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back as he continued his brutal assault.

"I'm yours, I’m yours….." you whispered, your voice breaking. 

It was the only thing you could say, the only thing that would stop the pain. Toji's grip on your hair tightened, his hips slamming into you with renewed vigor. You mewled as he dug deeper with each and every move.

"Louder, babe." he demanded, his voice a snarl. "I want the whole fucking world to hear you."

You took a shuddering breath, forcing the words out. "I'm yours, Toji. I'm yours!"

The admission seemed to snap something inside him. Toji's movements became erratic, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he chased his release. He came with a roar, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his seed.

But even as he emptied himself into you,  Fushiguro Toji didn't stop. He continued to thrust, his movements slower now but no less intense, as if he were trying to brand you with his touch, to imprint himself onto your very soul.

"Never forget it." Toji groaned brutishly, his breath hot against your ear. "You belong to me. Only me….I belong to you the same way. You know that, don’t you? You always have. You always will. This was just a reminder." 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something darker, something you refused to acknowledge. Toji's hand slid around your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck possessively.

"I'll never let you go." Toji whispered, his voice a sinister promise. "I'll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me."

“Toji, fuck fuck…huh…ah—”

“You could fuck whoever you want, babe.” He says, choking in his pleasure. “But, fuck—only I have you. Only I do. You know that.”

“I….you’re—too good! Toji, deeper! Fuckkkkkk…….”

His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make you gasp for air. You could feel your husband's other hand snaked around your bruising hip, his long  fingers finding your clit and rubbing in rough, demanding circles.

"Come for me." he commanded, his voice low and dangerous."Come on my cock like the good little slut you are." His words, his touch, the lack of oxygen. It all combined to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure mixed with pain. Fushiguro Toji's fingers dug into your throat, his touch bordering on violent as he rode out your climax. He thrust into you erratically, brutishly, barbarically, feeling his own release building again.

"Fuck, yes, yes…..fucking fuckkkkkkk….." he growled, his hips slamming into yours with a bruising force. "Take it all. Baby, fuck, you feel so good. Take it. Every last drop."

Toji's body tensed, his cock pulsing inside you as he came a second time. He collapsed on top of you, sweat blending as his weight crushed you into the surface beneath you. You gasped for air, your lungs burning horribly, your body aching. Toji's hand slid from your throat, his fingers trailing down your chest possessively.

"Mine, mine…." he murmured, his voice slurred with satisfaction. "You're all mine."

Toji stayed buried inside you, his softening cock a constant reminder of what had just happened. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so that you were spooned against his chest.  His strong weary wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against him.

You lay there, stunned and shaken, your mind reeling from the intensity of the encounter. Toji's breath was hot against your neck, his heartbeat steady and strong in your ear. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his lips surprisingly gentle.

Toji chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Happy anniversary, my dear wife.” he said, his fingers trailing down your arm in a parody of affection. "Another year of blissful married life."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Blissful? Is that what you call it? Or what the trends call it?" you retorted, poking him in the chest. "I seem to remember spending half the year sleeping on the couch."

Toji caught your hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness. "Ah, but think of all the fun we had when I finally dragged you back to bed, babe." he smirked. "You know you can't resist me for long."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Arrogant bastard." 

You mutter those words and yet there was no heat behind the words. This was a dance you both knew well, a twisted game of push and pull that defined your marriage. You had been through this too many times before. 

Toji's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I'm not just a bastard, I'm your bastard, aren’t I?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you love me for it."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Or maybe you just love the way I fuck you when you're being a brat."

You gasped, your cheeks flushing at his crude words.But before you could retort, Fushiguro Toji's mouth was on yours, kissing you deeply, possessively. He bit your lip, hard enough to sting, before pulling back.

"Now, how about we celebrate our anniversary properly?" he suggested, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass. "I'll even let you top this time, if you're feeling generous."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't suppress the smirk tugging at your lips. "In your dreams, Fushiguro Toji." you said, pushing him away playfully. "I'm not that easy."

Toji laughed, the sound rich and warm. Your husband grabbed you around the waist, pulling you back against his chest. You started to laugh with him, shaking your head. You were sure that it was the mix of the wine, the pleasure and the ambiance that had put you into such a good mood. 

"Oh, you're easy, babe." he teased, nipping at your neck. "You're just playing hard to get."

You giggled, squirming in his arms. "Prove it to me. Right now." you challenged, your eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Toji groaned, his hands roaming your body. "Fine, I'll prove it. But first, I need more wine." 

You slyly smiled. “That’s more like it. Go on and get it.”

He released you, heading towards the kitchen. "Red or white?" he called over his shoulder. "And don't you dare say 'surprise me', or I'll choose the cheapest bottle we have."

You laughed, settling back onto the couch. "Red." you shouted back. "And make it a good one, or I'll make you sleep on the couch tonight."

“So demanding you are.”

“Hm, that’s what you still need to learn after eighteen years.”

“We’ve been together longer than that.”

You laughed. “That’s why we’re fools, aren’t we?”

“Hm.” He mumbles as he leans in, kissing you as he holds the wine in his hands. “True enough.”

YOU AND TOJI TAKE LONGER BREAKS NOW. And that was perhaps for the best now that the kids are getting older. You’ve decided this a long time ago, but it was only now that it was a reality. With Toji and you being under your own management, there was more ability to say no to projects more often. 

Now that you and Toji are finally able to be a little less busy, you find yourselves grasping at the time that once slipped so easily through your fingers. It’s a strange thing, this newfound stillness. 

After years of living out of suitcases, jumping from set to set, and calling home through glitchy video calls, the quiet should be a relief. But in truth, it’s unsettling. Because now, without the distraction of work, you’re forced to face the spaces you left behind.

You try as much as you can. You really put everything in trying and succeeding to spend more time with your kids, to be present in ways you couldn’t be before. But parenting, when you’ve spent so long being absent, is a careful balance of patience and guilt. 

You’re stepping into lives that have learned how to function without you, and no matter how much they love you, no matter how many dinners you cook or movie nights you organize, there’s no undoing the years of distance.

Seventeen year old Fushiguro Tsumiki is about to take her entrance exams for college, a milestone that you can hardly believe is already here. You remember the day she first came into your life, all wide eyes and soft smiles, and now she’s filling out applications, weighing her options, making plans for a future that doesn’t depend on you or Toji.

Tsumiki sat at the kitchen table, hunched over her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she typed out her application essay. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, highlighting the furrow in her brow, the quiet determination in her eyes.

Toji leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression. You could tell he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to say it without making it sound like an argument.

"Are you sure about this school?" he finally asked, his voice casual, though you knew better. "Could be a bit too far from us, don’t you think?"

Tsumiki barely spared him a glance, too focused on the words forming on her screen. "Yeah, I’m going to be fine at this school, dad."

There was a slight exasperation in her tone, but it wasn’t angry. Instead, it was that was her tender firmness, like she had already decided, like this was something she had put real thought into. At times, you like to think she got that from Toji.

"It’s got the best program for what I want to do."

Toji scratched his jaw, pretending like he didn’t already know the answer to the question he was about to ask. "And what’s that again?"

Tsumiki rolled her eyes, a soft huff escaping her lips as she finally looked up at him. "I’ve told you a hundred times, dad."

Toji shrugged, pushing off the counter. "Yeah, well, tell me again."

You expected her to be annoyed, to say something sharp about how he never listened, about how he always asked the same things but never really heard her. But instead, she sighed and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It’s got the best program for child psychology, Kyoto University." she said, her voice softer now. "It’s one of the top schools for it. The research they do there, the opportunities… it’s what I need if I want to do this seriously."

“Okay, I see.”

She paused, studying her father, then added. "And it’s not like I’m moving across the world. It’s a few hours away."

Fushiguro Toji took a moment and exhaled slowly, leaning against the chair across from her, running a hand down his face. He nodded, though he didn’t say anything right away. It wasn’t about the school. Not really.

It was about her—about how she was growing up, about how she wasn’t a little girl anymore. About how, one day soon, she would leave, and there wouldn’t be application essays sprawled across the kitchen table or late-night snacks stolen from the fridge when she thought no one was looking.

And maybe Fushiguro Tsumiki understood that.

Because instead of snapping at him for forgetting, for questioning her choices, she met him where he was, speaking to him with patience and grace. As if she could see past his words, straight into the unspoken fear buried beneath them. Because at the end of the day, her dad was just concerned for her and wanted her around.

As if she knew he wasn’t really asking about the school.

He was asking if she was really ready to go.

And she was, she was a grown young woman ready to go.

You just sat there, listening to them, watching the way Toji asked questions he already knew the answers to, the way Tsumiki answered with more patience than he probably deserved. It was such a small thing, a simple conversation between a father and his daughter, but it lodged itself deep in your chest, heavy with a kind of warmth you hadn’t felt in years.

For all your shortcomings, for all the missed birthdays, the forgotten recitals, the times you had been nothing more than voices through a speaker or fleeting figures in the doorway—Tsumiki still let you in.

She still sat at this table with you. She still spoke to you both with openness, as if she had never once resented the distance, as if she had never longed for different parents, ones who had always been there. She could have turned away. She could have built walls so high neither of you could have reached her.

But instead, she waited to open that letter in front of you. Instead, she still explained her dreams, still let you be part of them, even after all the years you had spent missing pieces of her life. And that was what broke you the most.

Not the guilt, not the regret—but the grace.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, gripping the edge of your seat as if grounding yourself would somehow make this moment last longer. It wasn’t often that the past allowed itself to be forgiven, and yet, here was Tsumiki, still offering it to you freely, without expectation, without resentment.

Toji exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, the weight of it all pressing down on him in real time. "Well, guess that means I better start looking at housing prices out there."

Tsumiki blinked, caught between amusement and exasperation. "Dad—"

"What?" he shot back, crossing his arms. "You think I’m gonna let you live in some shitty dorm with mold in the walls? Not a chance."

"Dorms aren’t that bad—"

"Have you seen those places? I’d rather pay for you to live somewhere that won’t give you some disease." Toji says to her, shaking his head. “What daughter of mine will live in some shithole? Your mother and I make more than enough to get you some good apartment, you know that.”

You shook your head, pressing your lips together to hide the smile threatening to form. "Toji, let her breathe. She hasn’t even left yet, and you’re already planning to follow her."

He scoffed. "Damn right I am. What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t at least check out the area? Make sure she’s not living next to some creep?"

Tsumiki groaned, dropping her face into her hands, but you caught the small smile tugging at her lips before she did. "Oh my god, you two are impossible."

"You love us, admit it, sweetie." Toji said easily, smirking.

And she didn’t argue. She just shook her head, laughing softly, before turning her attention back to her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard once more with the eager zealousness she had always had.

You sat back, watching them bicker, watching the way the warmth filled the space between you all, and something inside you settled. Because after everything, after the misgivings, the years spent apart, the quiet fractures that once seemed irreparable. 

She was still here. She still let you be her parents And maybe you hadn’t always been good at it. Maybe you had spent too many years failing, too many years missing the moments that mattered. But somehow, she still lets you try.

Then there’s your son Megumi. Your youngest, but never really your baby. He has always been too sharp, too self-sufficient, always moving through life like he already knows how it ends. And you didn’t know how you could have been a better mother than he already was to himself.

Fushiguro Megumi never hated acting. That much you knew. If anything, he was good at it. He was just that talent that comes once in a lifetime. He was so good, in fact, that it was almost frustrating. 

Some people spent their whole lives fighting for a place in the industry, scraping for every opportunity, but for Megumi, it came easy. Natural. Directors liked him, critics praised him, and his face had become familiar in the industry, even if he never really tried to be.

But you saw it. In the way his shoulders tensed at red carpet events, the way his polite smiles never quite reached his eyes. In the way he flipped through scripts like they were another chore on his to-do list rather than a dream waiting to be realized.

"There’s too much damn dialogue in this thing." he muttered one night, stretching across the couch, script in one hand, a book in the other. “I’m not like Yuuji who can do this all the time!”

You looked up from your own book, raising a brow. "Too much dialogue? That’s the whole point, Megumi. It’s called acting."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, flipping a page lazily before tossing the script onto the coffee table with a sigh. "It’s just… too much talking. Too much over-explaining. Sometimes a look is enough, you know? A pause. A beat. You don’t need a five-minute monologue about life and its fleeting purpose to get that across."

You smirked. "Try telling that to the writers."

"Believe me, I have." he deadpanned, tilting his head toward you. "They don’t listen."

You hummed, watching him. The way his fingers skimmed the worn spine of his book, the way he traced over the inked words as if they carried more weight than any script ever could.

"Why don’t you quit, then?" you asked after a beat, catching him off guard. “I’m sure whatever you do, me and your dad will support you.”

Megumi blinked at you, his lips parting slightly before pressing into something unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might actually consider it, might admit something he hadn’t before. But instead, his mouth curled into a small, knowing smirk.

"I don’t hate it," he said simply, shrugging as he leaned back against the couch.

"No?" you challenged, tilting your head.

"No." He looked down at his book, flipping a page with deliberate ease. "I just like something else more."

You nodded, letting his words settle between you. "Literature?" you guessed.

He exhaled, glancing at you briefly before returning to his book. "Stories."

Something about the way he said it, quiet but certain, stuck with you. You and Toji had spent your whole lives chasing the next big role, the next big paycheck, the next big thing. You had built your careers on the idea that passion and success were the same, that you could never have one without the other. 

But Megumi, he just knew exactly where his love lay. And more importantly, he wasn’t afraid to say it. You watched him for a while, the way his gaze lingered on the words before him, how relaxed he looked in that moment, lost in a world of his own choosing.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt something settle inside you. Maybe he wouldn’t chase the same dreams you did. Maybe he wouldn’t take every job, every opportunity, every chance to stay relevant in an industry that never let anyone rest. 

"We should have dinner together, shouldn’t we?" you said, glancing between Megumi and Toji, who were both still lounging in the living room. "It’s been a while since we actually sat down as a family, and I don’t mean takeout at the kitchen counter."

Toji stretched, cracking his neck as he glanced over at you. "Yeah, that’s a good idea. We can go somewhere nice. Anywhere you guys want."

Megumi just grunted in response, still nose-deep in his book, which you took as his usual version of agreement. “I guess.”

But then Tsumiki, who had been sitting at the dining table with her laptop open, perked up slightly. "Can Kenshin come?"

You paused, your brows furrowing. "Nanami Kenshin?"

She nodded, twirling her pen between her fingers. "Yeah. He’s been kind of… going through it."

You exchanged a glance with Toji before settling your gaze back on her. "What’s wrong?"

Tsumiki sighed, closing her laptop and leaning forward on her elbows. "You know about his dad, right? The cheating rumors?"

You exhaled sharply, feeling the air punctured from your lungs. "Yeah. It’s been everywhere."

Nanami Kento’s scandal had taken over the news cycle for weeks. The once-stoic, well-respected actor had been photographed leaving a hotel with someone who was not his wife, and from there, the speculation spiraled. 

Every single day, there were headlines, opinion pieces, talk shows dissecting his every move, paparazzi following not just him, but his family. Kenshin, being his only son, was getting dragged into it whether he wanted to or not.

In some ways, you were lucky that you never got caught. But it was just that he was good at hiding his tracks more when you both worked together. And you worked together more than twice in two years.

Yet it had to end, once you gave birth to Tsumiki. And then when you were pregnant with Megumi. It wasn’t fair to your children. It never was and it never will. That’s why you broke it off. 

"He’s not handling it well." Tsumiki admitted, biting the inside of her cheek. "You know how private he is. And now he can’t even go outside without a camera in his face. He barely eats, barely sleeps. He’s just… stressed, and I figured maybe having dinner with us would help."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. You’d known Kenshin since he was a kid—he and Tsumiki had been close for years, practically growing up together. He had always been serious, quiet like his father, preferring to stay out of the limelight even though his last name made that impossible.

"Of course he can come." you said finally, softening. "We’ll make sure he eats something."

Tsumiki smiled, relieved, as she reached for her phone.

Toji, who had been silent this whole time, finally huffed. "Tch. If that dumbass father of his had half a brain, he’d have kept his shit together."

You shot him a look. "Not the time, Toji."

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. You watched as Tsumiki typed out a message to Kenshin, and something in your chest ached. Because for all the ways you had failed as parents over the years, Tsumiki had grown into someone who noticed when others were hurting.

And that had to mean something.

As you looked at your husband, he knew.

This was a hurt your daughter should never know.

IT WAS EERIE THAT EVERYTHING WAS THIS PEACEFUL. After being in the limelight for so long, you were just used to being surrounded by many people. People who were watching you eat, have a glass of wine, and have a conversation. Tonight was a whole other thing.

The restaurant was quiet, a dimly lit private dining space meant to shield its patrons from the outside world. It was the kind of place you and Toji had grown accustomed to over the years, where deals were made, secrets were kept, and appearances were carefully crafted under the warm glow of candlelight.

But as you slid into your seat across from Nanami Kenshin, no amount of careful curation could settle the knot in your stomach. You had spent your whole life perfecting the art of deception. On screen, in interviews, even at home. You could lie with your face, with your voice, with the ease of someone who had done it for far too long.

But now, as you watched Kenshin unfold his napkin with quiet precision, his brows drawn together in that familiar, contemplative way, you felt something unravel inside you. Because he looked just like his father. Too much just like him.

It had been easier when they were children, when Kenshin and Tsumiki were nothing more than two kids bonding over burnt pastries and mismatched spices in their middle school culinary club. Back then, your fears had been different and rather miniscule, smaller than dust. 

You had only worried about whether Tsumiki would get along with the other students, or whether she would find a friend in the reserved, sharp-eyed boy who always seemed to prefer the background. Back then, Tsumiki didn’t look like Kento.

But as the years passed, something shifted. It was in the little things at first. It was the way her patience stretched longer, the way her silences began carrying weight, the way she observed before speaking, before acting.

Then it was in the eyes. His caramel eyes. And now, sitting across from Kenshin, you felt it again. That gnawing weight in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel your lips dry up. You immediately lift your wine glass up to your lips and drank swiftly.

"You okay?" Toji’s voice was low, his hand settling against your thigh under the table, a gentle squeeze meant to keep you tethered.

You forced a nod, fingers curling around the stem of your wine glass, though the drink did nothing to soothe you. Because it wasn’t about regret. It had never been about regret. You had made your choices long ago, and you had lived with them.

But guilt? Well, the guilt here was different. And it was something you promised you would never feel again. But you couldn’t help it. Not in front of him. You owe it to him to feel a little bit guilty, even if it was all years ago. You were complicit. You were just as guilty.

You continued to let your eyes linger. You could see it. Your own guilt. Guilt was staring at the dark circles under Kenshin’s eyes, at the way he barely touched his menu, exhaustion weighing him down in ways that had nothing to do with the long day he must have had.

Guilt was watching him flinch slightly when Toji made an offhand remark about the press. Guilt was knowing that he didn’t deserve any of this. Guilt was making him stay here with the woman that his father slept with.

And yet, he bore the brunt of it all—the whispers, the cameras, the endless speculation. The price of being born into a home that no longer felt like one. The home you helped ruin. And he would never even know.

Tsumiki was the one to break the silence.

"You should eat, Kenshin." Her voice was soft but firm, the kind of tone she only ever used when she was worried.

Kenshin barely looked up from the menu, his fingers resting against the edges of the pages, but he hadn’t turned them once. "I’m not really that hungry."

You watched as Tsumiki frowned, her brows knitting together in quiet concern.

"You still need to eat, you idiot." she pressed, nudging his foot under the table. "I didn’t invite you just so you could sit here and mope, you know."

Kenshin exhaled sharply through his nose, something close to amusement flickering across his face, but it was faint. He closed the menu and leaned back against his chair, tilting his head slightly in her direction. "You invited me?"

"Of course I did." she said easily, like it wasn’t even a question. “Didn’t you answer me on the phone earlier? At least act interested! My parents are paying!”

Kenshin didn’t respond right away. He stared at her for a long moment, eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place—hesitation, gratitude, maybe even exhaustion. And then, slowly, he picked up the menu again, actually looking at it this time.

"Fine. But you’re ordering for me."

Tsumiki smiled, triumphant. "Obviously."

Toji, who had been silent this whole time, huffed a small chuckle before glancing at you. "They remind you of anyone?"

You knew what he was implying. You and him, all those years ago. It was before the fights, before the resentment, before the weight of your mistakes began pressing into every crack of your marriage. But you couldn’t even force a smile. Not with Kenshin sitting there, unknowingly reminding you of everything you had spent years trying to forget.

"So, Kenshin–senpai." Megumi spoke up, finally tearing himself away from his book. He turned to Kenshin, arching a brow. "How’s your mom doing?"

The question was casual enough, but you stiffened, your fingers tightening around your wine glass. Kenshin sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "She’s… dealing with it. I don’t know. It’s been rough." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "She’s handling it better than I am, though."

You swallowed. Because how could he not be struggling? How could he not be going through it? His whole life had been dragged into the spotlight, his father’s name turned into nothing more than a headline, a scandal, a spectacle.

“Your sister must be just as distraught too.” Tsumiki murmured under her breath, looking with empathy at her best friend. “I hope she’s alright.”

“She’s in Kyoto right now, that’s where she’s prepping for her licensing exams.” Kenshin sighed. “Honestly, I know it’s best for her. But I worry about her. I know that she gets really bad when she’s upset.”

You forced yourself to speak, voice even. "If she ever needs anything, let her know she can call me. I’m sure we can do something for your sister too.”

Kenshin nodded, but his gaze remained unreadable. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Fushiguro. I appreciate it. Really.”

Toji watched you closely, his fingers tapping against his glass, but he said nothing. And as the conversation moved forward, shifting into lighter topics. Now onto university plans, upcoming projects, the best dish on the menu. In that time, you forced yourself to push the guilt down.

Because Kenshin still didn’t know.

And you told yourself that was all that mattered.

That was for his own good.

At least that's what you believed.

TOJI THINKS HE SHOULD WIN AN AWARD FOR HIS ACTING LATELY. Of course, he wasn’t talking about his jobs. He’s not filmed anything in the past year and a half. But there was something else that could give him some sort of award winning accolade. And it’s because Fushiguro Toji had been hiding something for a little while now.

Lymphoma.

It was strange, how the word hadn’t shaken him the way it probably should have. The doctor had said it gently, cautiously, like he was waiting for the weight of it to sink in. But Toji had simply sat there, one leg bouncing impatiently, as if he were waiting for something more pressing to be said.

"It’s treatable." the doctor had assured him, voice steady, professional. "But we need to start soon."

And maybe that was why it hadn’t rattled him. Maybe it was the way the doctor had framed it. It was like a problem with a solution, a challenge to be dealt with rather than a death sentence. Or maybe it was because Fushiguro Toji had lived his whole life expecting something to take him out eventually. But not today. Not yet.

"You have any questions?" the doctor had asked.

Toji had thought about it, had considered asking what the worst-case scenario looked like, and had considered asking how much time he had if treatment didn’t work. But in the end, all he had done was shake his head and stand up.

"Alright. I’ll be in touch."

And that was that.

So far, no one has noticed.

Which was a good thing.

He didn’t want anyone to be concerned.

Not his wife, who had enough to think about. It was a lot of balancing work, their marriage, their kids, all while carrying the kind of history that still bled into their present. If you knew, you would surely drop everything. You’d hover him like he was a pitiful creature. She’d watch him like he was a ticking bomb, and Toji didn’t have it in him to be the reason for that kind of worry.

Not Tsumiki, who had spent her whole damn life caring for people, who had already learned to read between the lines too well. If she knew, she’d put herself on hold. Toji had spent too many years trying to teach her not to do that, to live for herself, to stop putting the world on her shoulders.

And definitely not Megumi. Not his quiet, unreadable, sharp-eyed kid who already carried more weight than he should, who had learned too young what disappointment felt like, what distance felt like, what it meant to survive rather than simply live.

No. If Megumi knew, he’d take it on himself, the same way he always did.  And Toji couldn’t let that happen, not when his kids are doing something for themselves for once. Not when they were at the prime of their lives.

So, he hid it. 

Not when the fatigue settled in his bones, making every movement feel like dragging himself through sand.

Not when the weight slipped from him, slow but steady, his clothes fitting just a little looser, his rings spinning just a little too easily on his fingers.

Not even when the pain dug into his chest late at night, deep and relentless, the kind that kept him awake even on the nights when he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open.

Because what good would telling them do?

What good would putting that burden on them accomplish?

So, he forced himself to keep up. Forced himself to eat, even when the nausea made it difficult. Forced himself to be present, even when his body begged him to rest. Forced himself to be himself at least until he couldn’t anymore. And for now, at least, he was doing a damn good job of it.

But the thing about hiding something this big was that Toji had to be careful. It wasn’t enough to just act normal. He had to be convincing. Like he usually was. He had to keep up routines, make sure there were no suspicious gaps in his behavior.

He couldn’t afford to look tired, couldn’t hesitate when lifting the groceries or shut his eyes too long when rubbing at the ache in his chest. So far, he’d managed. Tsumiki and Megumi hadn’t noticed a thing. And you—his wife—hadn’t either. Or at least, if you had, you hadn’t said anything.

But Toji knew it was only a matter of time. Because the thing about secrets was that they always crept up, slipping through the cracks when you least expected them to. And for all his effort, for all the control he tried to maintain over his body, his body had a way of betraying him.

The first real crack came on a random Tuesday.

He had just stepped out of the shower when you entered the bedroom, flipping through something on your phone, mumbling about dinner plans. His towel hung around his shoulders, water still dripping from his hair, steam clinging to his skin.

You hadn’t been paying much attention at first, distracted, focused on something else entirely. And then you froze. Your husband Toji didn’t understand why at first—then he followed your gaze.

To his ribs.To the way his skin clung too closely to his bones, to the ghastly and rather sharp hollows that hadn’t been there before, to the proof of what he had been keeping from you all this time.

He saw the way your lips parted, how something flickered in your eyes. It was that realization he knew he never wanted to see in your face in any life time. You purse your lips into a line and then a little later, let it slip open.

"Toji." You said his name like a question. Like you were trying to confirm something you already knew.

He exhaled, reaching for his shirt, acting like it was nothing. "Yeah?"

"Have you… been eating?"

A scoff. A forced chuckle. "What kind of question is that? I eat everything that you give me, babe. I’m fine."

"You’ve lost weight."

"I’m busy with the entertainment company. And I produce too, you know. Maybe it’s that. Don't worry too much." He pulled the shirt over his head, voice easy, practiced. "It’s not like I have a home-cooked meal waiting for me every day."

You didn’t respond right away. And that was worse. Because Fushiguro Toji knew you. Knew how your mind worked, how you saw through bullshit faster than anyone else. You did not believe him one second.

You stepped closer, fingertips ghosting over his ribs through the fabric, and he had to fight the urge to step back. Your eyes were sharp, scanning him, searching for something. "You’ve been tired too, aren’t you? That’s why we took a break, didn’t we?"

"I’m getting older, too. Don’t forget that side effect."

"And you’ve been—"

"Drop it." His voice came out rougher than he meant it to. “Babe, seriously. I’m fine. Look…I’m sorry.”

Your lips pressed together, and for a split second, Toji thought he saw something flicker there. Hurt. He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose before dragging a hand down his face. He forced his voice softer. 

"I’m serious about it. I’m fine. Just been working too much."

A long pause.

Then you nodded.

He saw your eyes.

But your eyes told him you weren’t convinced. And Toji didn’t like that look.  Because it meant you were starting to notice. And if you noticed, it was only a matter of time before the kids did too.

So, he needed to do better. He needed to get it together. He needed to be more careful. Needed to keep it hidden just a little longer. This was his problem. He had to solve it his way. Because he wasn’t ready for you or the kids to know. Not yet.

A LOT HAS HAPPENED OVER THE PAST FEW MONTHS. It was a few months later when Fushiguro Tsumiki got accepted into Kyoto University. And everything about it has been a splendid triumph for the Fushiguro family for quite a while. Most especially from you and Toji.

The house had been buzzing with excitement, with you crying happy tears while Megumi offered his usual quiet but sincere congratulations. Even Toji, who had never been the most expressive, had pulled her into a side hug, murmuring a gruff “Knew you’d get in.”

And now, here you were—moving her into her dorm.

Toji had insisted on helping, despite you knowing that he got tired more easily these days. He played it off well, cracking jokes about how dorm mattresses were probably just wooden planks covered in fabric and how campus food was going to be the worst thing she’d ever eat. 

But you saw it very clearly. You were watching your husband all through the steps with eyes like a hawk. You could see the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot, the way he rolled his shoulders like he was working through some ache he wasn’t talking about.

But you said nothing. Not yet.

You didn’t want to push him.

You didn’t want to make him upset.

Not today of all days, when he’s happy.

The drive there had been mostly filled with Tsumiki’s excited chatter. She kept talking about how she had already connected with her dorm mate online, how she planned to join a few clubs, how she wanted to explore the city more now that she’d be living in it.

By the time you reached the dorm, the sun was high, and the campus buzzed with students moving in, parents saying tearful goodbyes. Toji carried most of her heavier boxes despite your protests, only shooting you a look when you tried to take one from him.

Inside her dorm, it felt real. She was really going to be here. She was really moving on to this next part of her life. She’s no longer a little girl. She’s a growing young woman and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

All the sudden you felt choked up. “I’m going to get us some beverages.”

Your husband nods at you, watching you leave the room with your forlorn look. He knew you were overwhelmed. He sighed. He moved towards the edge of the room. After setting down the last box, Toji stretched, exhaling deeply. Then he glanced around the small space, nodding as if approving it. 

“Not bad. Still think you could’ve picked something closer, though.”

Tsumiki turned from where she was unpacking her books, rolling her eyes. “Dad, it’s not even that far. It’s just Kyoto. The Shinkansen can take me home in a couple of hours.”

"Far enough." He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. "Before, if you needed anything, we were just down the hall. Now, what? Gotta call ahead and book an appointment just to see you?"

Tsumiki sighed, but there was a fondness in her expression. “You know it’s not like that.”

Toji shrugged, looking around the room before settling his gaze back on her. "You're growing up too fast. Soon, you won’t need me or your mom anymore."

Tsumiki’s hands stilled as she placed a book on her desk. Then she turned fully, brows furrowing. “That’s not true.”

"Isn’t it?" Toji smirked, but there was something else underneath it. Something unreadable. "What do you need me for anymore, huh? I don’t gotta drive you anywhere, don’t gotta pick you up from school, don’t gotta make sure your dumbass classmates aren’t getting too close to you—"

“Dad—”

"What? You think I don’t know you’re too nice to tell some loser to back off? Don’t make me show up on campus, ‘miki."

Tsumiki groaned, shoving him lightly, and Toji let himself stumble back a little, laughing. “Dad, you’re being silly again.”

Then, after a moment, his expression softened, and his voice dropped just a bit. "You’ll still be my little girl, though?"

Tsumiki tilted her head, smiling. “Yes.”

Toji let out a breath, then grinned. "Good. ‘Cause I wasn’t gonna accept any other answer."

And for a moment, it was just the two of them. They were still father and daughter, standing in the middle of a dorm that felt too empty, too new. Tsumiki looked at him like she had always looked at him. There was warmth, with trust, with the kind of affection that Toji never thought he deserved.

And for just a second, he forgot about everything else. The fatigue. The pain. The weight of a secret that felt heavier than any of the boxes he had carried up those stairs. Because right now, his little girl was starting the next chapter of her life. And he would do whatever it took to be there for as long as he could.

As the afternoon light filtered through the dorm window, Fushiguro Toji sat on the edge of Tsumiki’s bed, watching her arrange the last of her things. For a moment, he just observed. He couldn’t help but take in how grown she looked, how far she had come. 

It was strange how time worked. One day, she was just a kid clinging to his arm, asking him to carry her on his shoulders. Now, she was standing on her own, stepping into a new life, one he wouldn’t be a daily part of anymore. His chest ached, but he ignored it.

Instead, he leaned back on his hands, voice light when he spoke. “So. What do you think of your mom?”

Tsumiki blinked, caught off guard. “What kind of question is that?”

Toji shrugged. “Just wondering.”

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed, turning back to her desk, fidgeting with the edge of a notebook. “I love her.” she said, voice softer. “Of course, I do. She’s my mom.”

Toji hummed. “But?”

Tsumiki hesitated. Then, finally, she admitted. “I feel like there’s always been some kind of distance between us.”

Toji watched as she ran a hand over the cover of a textbook, not meeting his gaze. “I know she loves me a lot, I do. She’s taken care of me, she’s been there—but it’s just… it’s not the same as with you.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”

Tsumiki turned to him, looking guilty, as if saying it out loud made her feel like a bad daughter. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just—” She sighed. “With you, it’s easy. It always has been. I don’t have to think about what to say, or wonder if I’m bothering you. I just… talk. And you listen. And you tease me.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “It’s just different with Mom. It always has been. And I think she knows it too.”

Toji exhaled through his nose, tilting his head. “And Megumi?”

Tsumiki let out a small chuckle. “They have an easier relationship. They understand each other better.” She shrugged. “Maybe because he’s more like her. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually hers.”

Toji frowned at that. “You really don’t think that, do you?”

“Dad, it’s just….” She looked crestfallen, but she smiled. “It’s just complicated.”

"Tsumiki." His voice was firm, but not harsh. She looked at him, and he reached out, tapping her forehead lightly with his fingers. “You’re her daughter. That’s all that matters.”

She gave a small nod but didn’t say anything.

For a while, silence stretched between them.

Toji could remember how he was with his mother too.

Blood or not, Tsumiki was more like him than he could bear.

Then, Toji smirked, leaning back again. “So? What are you gonna do about it?”

Tsumiki frowned. “What do you mean?”

"You want things to be different with her? Then go to her. Talk to her. You’re a big girl now, right? Not scared of your own mom, are ya?"

Tsumiki huffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Toji chuckled, then shook his head, his voice turning a little more serious. “Look, your mom—she’s not always the best at showing things. But she does care. She’s still….dealing with a lot. But she cares. Probably more than she knows how to say. So, if you feel a distance, don’t just sit with it. Close it.”

Tsumiki bit her lip, thinking. Then, after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, okay.”

Toji grinned. “Good. Now, are you gonna make me sit here all day, or are you gonna feed your old man before he drives back home?”

Tsumiki laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

"Damn right I am."

And as they headed out for a meal together, Fushiguro Toji hoped—really hoped—that she would take his advice. Because no matter how messy this family was, no matter how much distance had crept in over the years, he knew one thing for sure.

You loved Tsumiki.

And she deserved to know it.

And he doesn’t want you to be alone.

YOU DIDN’T REALIZE HOW MUCH YOUR DAUGHTER ACTUALLY OWNED UNTIL NOW. The afternoon sun painted the dorm room in soft gold, dust particles catching the light as they floated lazily through the air.

The room smelled faintly of cardboard and new beginnings, the scent of fresh linens and wood polish mixing with the comfortable warmth of Tsumiki’s presence.

You and your husband Toji had been helping her unpack for the past hour, moving in a steady rhythm. You watched him carrying the heavier boxes to a storage room while you focused on putting her things away neatly. 

Tsumiki worked between the both of you, arranging her books, tucking away clothes, occasionally stopping to pull out something sentimental. It was her favorite childhood trinkets, an old photograph, a gift from Megumi she hadn’t had the heart to leave behind.

For the most part, the move-in had been filled with light chatter, your husband Toji’s occasional grumbling about “kids these days” and the ridiculous amount of stuff she had brought. You could only laugh and shake your heat at his little banters.  

But then, as you folded the last of her sweaters, Tsumiki spoke. "Mom?"

You paused, fingers brushing over the soft fabric before looking at her. "Yeah?"

She hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the hem of a well-worn t-shirt. Something flickered across her face. It was something unsure, something fragile. “I….”

You smiled softly at her. “Darling, you can tell me anything. What’s on your mind?”

"I wanted to say something to you." She exhaled slowly. "And I don’t—I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, but I think I need to say it."

Beside you, Toji stilled, his gaze shifting from the shelf he was setting up to the both of you. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t intervene. Just let her speak. He turns his back, focusing deeply on the cleaning he was doing.

"I love you." Tsumiki’s voice was soft, but steady. "I love you so much. But I—sometimes, I feel like we don’t really know each other. Not in the way I know Dad. Or even in the way Megumi knows you."

Your chest tightened. “‘miki….”

"And I know you love me, too." She rushed to add. "I do. But there’s always been this… this distance. And I guess I just… I just wish I knew why."

The silence that followed was thick. Toji was watching you now, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his presence. He wasn’t going to step in. This was between you and Tsumiki. You exhaled, pressing your hands together before finally meeting her gaze.

"Tsumiki, none of that is your fault."

Her brows pulled together slightly, the smallest hint of hurt flashing in her eyes. "Then whose is it?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the words press against the back of your throat like something heavy, something unbearable. "Mine, darling." you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "All of it."

Tsumiki’s lips parted, but no words came out. You glanced at Toji, at the way he watched you—calm, waiting. He knew this conversation had been long overdue. You both talked about how it would work one day. But even now you felt unprepared and scared. Perhaps more than you thought you would ever be.

"I was scared." The confession fell from your lips before you could stop it. "From the very beginning, I was so scared of failing you. Of not being the mother you deserved. I thought that if I didn’t do everything perfectly, I would hurt you. So I tried to be everything all at once. A mother, an actress, a wife. But somewhere along the way, I started thinking that as long as I was there, as long as I provided for you, that was enough. And it wasn’t."

Tsumiki’s fingers curled around the hem of her shirt, gripping it tightly. “Mom….”

You reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I was at fault. My suffering doesn’t mean I should have done wrong by you. I should have done better.”

“You did your best, mom.” Tsumiki softly shakes her head. “I love you. Thank you for letting me in, even if it’s just a little bit.”

"I love you more than anything in this world, Tsumiki." Your voice wavered, but you held her gaze. "More than I’ve ever been able to show you. And I am so, so sorry if I ever made you feel like that love was anything less than unconditional."

She sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly. “Thank you, mom. For everything.”

You shake  your head. "You shouldn't be thanked for taking accountability. I need to do better by  you. I never wanted you to feel like you had to reach for me, sweetheart. You’ve always had me from now on, okay?”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. And then, without hesitation, she surged forward, wrapping her arms around you, pressing her face into your shoulder. It was like when she was a kid again, when she was coming to your bed when she was afraid of thunderstorms. You let her warmth engulf you whole. 

"I love you, mom." she whispered, voice muffled against your sweater.

Your arms tightened around her, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. "I love you too, baby."

Toji, still standing in the corner, let out a slow breath. You caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips before he turned away, busying himself with something on her desk, as if to give you both the space you needed.

And as you held your daughter in that small dorm room, feeling her warmth, her presence, you realized something. It was something you had been too scared to admit before. You had spent years afraid of being a mother the wrong way. But Tsumiki had never once doubted that you were her mother. And for the first time, that fear finally loosened its grip.

Toji had been watching the moment unfold quietly, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed. His usual smirk had softened into something more content, something more at peace.

"‘Bout time,” he murmured, shaking his head with a chuckle as he turned to grab one of the last unopened boxes. “Should’ve had this conversation years ago, huh?”

You shot him a look, wiping at the damp corner of your eye. “Shut up, Toji.”

Tsumiki giggled, the tension between you both easing into something warmer. She pulled away just enough to look at you, a lingering smile on her lips. “Thanks, mom.”

Toji scoffed but grinned as he ruffled Tsumiki’s hair. “Alright, enough sappy shit. Do you need us to put anything else together before we head out?”

Tsumiki rolled her eyes but smiled. “No, dad. Don’t worry about that. You did so much for me already. I think I got it from here.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms. “Good. I was starting to think I’d be here all damn day.”

But then, something shifted. Fushiguro Toji swayed slightly where he stood, a slow blink overtaking his features. His hand shot out to the desk all of the sudden, gripping it like he needed to ground himself. 

"Toji?" You straightened immediately, the warmth from before evaporating into worry.

Tsumiki stepped closer, brows furrowing. “Dad?”

Toji tried to shake it off, forcing out a chuckle. “I—”

And then, before he could finish, his knees buckled. It happened too fast. Like a sudden blow of the wind, you watched as your husband went down, his large frame crumpling to the floor before you or Tsumiki could catch him. His head barely missed the corner of the desk as he slumped over, unconscious.

"Dad!" Tsumiki’s voice cracked, panic laced in her tone as she dropped down beside him.

Your own breath hitched, heart lurching to your throat as you knelt beside him, hands pressing against his face, his chest. "Toji—Toji, wake up!"

He didn’t. His breathing was shallow. Too shallow. The world felt like it had tilted, like the air in the room had been sucked out completely. Your hands shook as you patted his face, voice trembling. You could feel the tears pricking your eyes. 

“Toji, open your eyes. Please.”

Tsumiki’s hands were gripping his arm, her eyes wide and glassy. “Mom, what—what’s happening? Is he okay?”

"C–call… call the ambulance now, ‘Miki! Go!”

Your frantic voice came out sharper than you intended, edged with panic you couldn’t suppress. Tsumiki jumped but nodded quickly, her fingers fumbling to unlock her phone. Her breath was shaky as she pressed the emergency number, bringing the phone to her ear with trembling hands.

You turned your attention back to your husband Toji, hands pressing against his face, his chest, anywhere you could reach. His skin was clammy, damp with sweat, but he was still warm. That was good, right? That had to be good. It can only be good. Warm flesh means there’s life.

"Toji, wake up! You gotta wake up." Your voice wavered, but you didn’t stop, didn’t let yourself break.

His eyelids twitched, the barest movement, but he didn’t fully stir. His lips parted, a low, incoherent mumble slipping out. At first, you couldn’t make it out. It was just a string of fragmented words, barely above a whisper.

"Tsumiki?" Your stomach twisted. His voice was slurred, disoriented, almost childlike in the way it fumbled over the syllables. “....’miki….”

"I….I’m here, dad. Don’t worry." Tsumiki choked out, clutching his hand even as she kept the phone to her ear. "Just hang on, okay? The ambulance is coming."

But he didn’t respond. His strong brow furrowed, another murmured whisper tumbling from his lips. You leaned in closer, your pulse pounding so hard you thought your ribs might crack under the pressure of it all.

"—don’t...go yet— ‘m not—"

Your breath caught. His fingers twitched weakly against yours. "Toji?"

Still, he wouldn’t fully wake. His words became softer, less tangible, slipping through your grasp like sand. It wasn’t like him. Toji Fushiguro had always been loud, solid, and unwavering. Even in your worst fights, even in the coldest moments of your marriage, he had always been there.

But right now—right now, he was slipping. 

"Mom—" Tsumiki’s voice broke, and you turned to see her eyes shining with tears, her grip on her phone tight.

"They’re on their way, mom." she said, her voice trembling. "But they—they said it could take a few minutes."

A few minutes.

That was too long.

"Come on, baby, stay with me, please." you whispered, brushing his damp hair back, your voice barely above a plea. “Stay awake.”

His lips parted again, another breathy mumble escaping. This time, it was almost too soft for you to hear. But you knew you heard it. And your heart clenched so hard it physically hurt about how it made you feel.

"‘M sorry…"

You swallowed thickly, fingers tightening against his. "You don’t—You don’t get to say that, Toji. Not now."

But he didn’t respond.

And for the first time in years, the weight of unspoken words that came and went. All the years of love, of resentment, of mistakes and trying and failing and trying again seemed to settle so heavily in your chest, you felt like you might break under it.

You just needed him to hold on.

Just for a few more minutes.

You just needed a few more minutes.

All the sudden, you found yourself praying.

That was all you could do now, truly.

YOU’VE ALWAYS HATED HOSPITALS. They were so devoid of everything that makes life what it is. And you hated it. It’s why you always bring the doctor to you rather than going yourself.

You were too afraid, so disgusted by it. Disturbed by the essence of it being so terribly empty. But right now, you really had no choice. This was the only place you could bring Toji to safety.

The hospital was cold. Too cold. Even though the air-conditioning wasn’t particularly strong, the sterile white walls and the harsh fluorescent lighting made everything feel distant. Clinical. Like this was happening to someone else, in some other reality, and not you.

"Fushiguro Toji?" a doctor finally approached, her face too neutral, too practiced. "Are you his family?"

"Yes, I’m his wife." you answered immediately, your voice coming out steadier than you felt. Tsumiki nodded beside you, her hand still gripping yours tightly. “This is our daughter.”

The doctor sighed, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands. "We managed to stabilize him, but… there’s something we need to discuss."

You hated that pause. Hated the way doctors always did this. Even when you were doing things like this at work in all those massive sets and their dramatic music. Everything was about framing bad news like it needed cushioning, as if it would hurt less if they eased you into it. And to know that it's happening to you in real life, it made you feel so ill.

"What is it?" you asked, throat dry.

"Mr. Fushiguro’s condition is… progressing faster than we initially anticipated." she said carefully. "The lymphoma has advanced significantly, and—"

The rest of her words blurred as she continued to speak right in front of you. The state of shock perhaps will never go away. Everything felt like it was wrong, like it was eager to crash down on you a thousand times. Your breath caught in your throat. Tsumiki stiffened beside you, her fingers digging into your arm.

"What do you mean?" you finally managed, voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor sighed. "I mean that his body isn’t responding to treatment the way we had hoped. The disease is advancing aggressively, and at this stage…" She hesitated, choosing her words. "We need to have a serious discussion about long-term care options."

"Long-term care?" Tsumiki’s voice cracked. "You mean—like, hospice?"

The doctor didn’t answer right away, but her silence was an answer in itself. Tsumiki let out a shaky breath, her other hand covering her mouth as she turned away, shoulders trembling.

You felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you. Like you were standing in the middle of a collapsing building, bricks of reality crumbling all around you. And you hated it. You hated it more than anything. You didn't want this. Never in a lifetime did you want this.

"No, no." you said, shaking your head, as if denial could make this go away. "No, that—there has to be something else. There has to be more treatment, right?"

The doctor gave you a look. It was not unkind, but firm. It had to be, when she has to tell you something as heavy as this. This was her job. Perhaps that's why you weren't screaming in her face. She didn't deserve it. She was just doing what she could. They all were.

"We will do everything we can to make him comfortable."

Comfortable.

The word felt like a death sentence.

You think you were feeling sick.

"How long?" you forced yourself to ask, because if you didn’t, the question would eat you alive.

Another hesitation. "If the progression continues at this rate… months. Maybe less."

A sharp, strangled sound escaped from your daughter Tsumiki. You turned just in time to see her back hitting the wall as she slid down, arms wrapping around herself. She looked miserable, near to tears as she tried to process it all.

You wanted to move, to hold her, to tell her something that would make this better but there was nothing. Because nothing was going to make this better. You were just as much as devastated as your own daughter.

"There has to be something else." The words spilled out of you before you could stop them, sharp and desperate.

The doctor hesitated, her expression unreadable but not unkind. “We understand this is difficult, but—”

"No." You shook your head, taking a step forward as if that would somehow make a difference. "You’re talking like this is already over, doctor. But you know it’s not. There has to be something—anything. More treatment, another hospital, a specialist. We are willing to do everything. My husband can’t….He can’t…."

"Mom….." Tsumiki’s voice was small, raw, but you couldn’t stop now.

"He’s strong. People know that." you insisted, clinging to that fact because Toji had survived everything. He was stubborn, unrelenting. He wasn’t the kind of man who just gave up. "There has to be more options."

The doctor let out a slow breath, her hands tightening around the clipboard. “Mr. Fushiguro has already undergone chemotherapy, months ago. But the cancer is aggressive. We can discuss alternative treatments, Mrs. Fushiguro. However, given the stage of progression, I want to be honest with you—none of them come without risks.”

"I don’t care about the risks. If there’s something, anything, we’ll do it."

Tsumiki reached for your arm, her grip shaky. "Mom… what if—what if dad doesn’t want more treatment?"

Your stomach twisted, the words hitting deeper than they should have. Because it was possible, wasn’t it? Fushiguro Toji had made his peace with this. That he had chosen not to fight this battle any longer. Not because he didn’t care, but because he had already been fighting it alone for longer than you even knew.

You didn’t know what was worse: the idea of losing him or the thought that he had been expecting to leave. “I’m not letting him die on me. On us. Not yet. This is not....We have to try.”

The doctor studied you carefully before speaking again. “We can explore clinical trials. There are experimental treatments available. There are ones that have worked for some patients with similar diagnoses. I can help you attain some access. But it’s important to understand that there are no guarantees.”

"I don't need a guarantee. I just need a chance." You whispered to her. "I just need some chances for my husband's life."

She gave a small nod. “Then we’ll go over the options with him. He should be the one to decide how he wants to proceed.”

You sniffed. “That would be fine. Please make the arrangements as soon as necessary. I want my husband to come home safe and sound.”

"Would you like to see him?" the doctor asked softly. “I think he’s conscious enough to receive visitors.”

Your throat tightened.

Yes.

Of course.

But at the same time… you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready for what came next. And for the first time in a long time, you had no idea what the hell you were supposed to do. How are you going to do all of this?

The walls felt like they were closing in. Even as the doctor stood there, waiting for your response, the air around you felt suffocating. Everything about it just felt thick with the weight of something irreversible. Something that was never going to change.

"Would you like to see him?"

The words barely registered.

How could they ever do so?

Toji was here. He was still breathing. Still alive. But now, you were being told that it wouldn’t be for much longer. Months. Maybe less. A life measured in maybes. Your body felt heavy, the kind of weight that came from grief that hadn't even settled in yet, but you knew it was there, waiting, coiling itself in your ribs like a sickness.

Tsumiki made a sound. It was a sharp, choked sob before she clamped a hand over her mouth, as if she could swallow it down. But she couldn't. You both couldn't. "Mom…" she whispered, her voice breaking apart.

And suddenly, you were moving towards your little girl, your hands reaching for her, pulling her into your arms before she crumbled completely. She didn't resist. She just collapsed against you, shaking so hard it hurt to feel.

"He can't….He can’t just go, mom." she gasped against your shoulder, her fingers digging into your back. "He can't just leave. Not yet."

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I know, baby. I know."

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. You should have known something was wrong. You should have seen it, should have paid closer attention instead of getting caught up in the relief of finally having more time together. 

You had spent so long chasing each other through the chaos of your lives, waiting for a moment to just be and now that moment had arrived, only for it to be stolen before it even truly began. After all you had been through, suffering through and this is the reward of that steadfast spirit?

"He knew."

The thought was sudden. Sharp. You pulled away just enough to look at Tsumiki’s face, her red-rimmed eyes full of the same realization. She looked ever so devastated as her eyes narrowed towards the room door.

"He knew about it and we didn’t, mom." she repeated, her voice steadier this time. "He’s known for a while, hasn’t he?"

And just like that, everything clicked into place. The fatigue that lingered in his eyes even on the good days. The way he had been more present, more patient, more aware of the moments he had with you and the kids. The way he had laughed a little softer, held on a little longer.

He had been preparing for this.

And he hadn’t said a damn thing.

He didn’t feel like doing that at all.

You felt a flash of something—anger, maybe. But it was weak, lost under the sheer force of heartbreak. "I need to see him." Your voice barely sounded like your own, but it was firm. "Now."

Tsumiki nodded, wiping at her face, trying to collect herself even as the tears kept coming. The doctor said something, something about leading the way, about making sure you had time with him but you barely heard it. You didn’t care.

Because all you could think about was how the man you had spent eighteen years fighting for, fighting with, had been fighting this alone. And you weren’t sure whether you could forgive him for that. But you knew, without a doubt, that you weren’t going to let him do it alone anymore.

The moment you stepped into the room, Fushiguro Toji looked up. His face was pale, his skin pulled taut with exhaustion, but his lips curled into something wry, something casual. It was like he wasn’t hooked up to an IV, like he wasn’t the one lying in a hospital bed with death looming over him.

"Well, shit. I must really look bad if you’re already crying."

That was it. That was all it took for something inside you to snap. "Don’t you dare." Your voice trembled, but it was loud, sharp. "Don’t you fucking dare sit there and joke about this!"

Toji blinked, taken aback for the first time. "Hey—"

"No! No ‘hey’!" The dam had broken, and you couldn’t stop it now. "You knew! You knew for how long, Toji? How long have you been keeping this from me? From us?"

His lips parted, but no excuse came. No reassurance.

"You—" you let out a shaky breath, your body trembling. "You let me believe everything was finally okay. As much as there's so much wrong we can't avoid, hat we were finally settled down. You let us believe that we had time…..that we finally had time to just be and now you're telling me you're dying? That we only have months?"

Tsumiki stood beside you, her hands clasped in front of her, lips pressed together like she was forcing herself to stay strong. "Mom, please…." she tried, but you were past the point of stopping.

"How could you do this to us? I haven’t even told Megumi and I just…." The words cracked as they left your mouth. "How could you do this to me? What do I do, Toji?"

Toji sighed, running a hand down his face. "I didn’t want this."

"You didn’t want this?" A bitter laugh bubbled up from your throat. "Like I did? Like Tsumiki did? Like Megumi did? Like we wouldn’t have wanted to be there for you?"

His fingers curled into the hospital blanket. “I’m sorry….”

"You should’ve told me, you idiot." you whispered, voice raw, broken. “You could have died for good. And I wouldn’t have known. And I just….”

"And then what?" His voice was quiet, careful.

"And then we would’ve fought for you."

Toji’s eyes flickered, something almost imperceptible passing through them before he looked away. That was when the tears truly came. You shook your head, wiping furiously at your face, but it didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the way your whole body felt like it was collapsing under the weight of grief that hadn’t even fully arrived yet.

"You were going to let me find out like this? How could you?”

Toji exhaled, a long, slow breath. "I just… I didn’t want this to be what our life became. I didn’t want to see you look at me like you’re looking at me now."

You let out a sharp breath, stepping forward, reaching for his hand despite everything. His fingers twitched under yours, hesitant, but he didn’t pull away. He didn't want to. Not when you were this upset.

"And what about me, Toji?" you whispered. "What about how I was supposed to look at you when you were gone?"

Silence.

For the first time in years, he had nothing to say.

And that was what scared you the most.

Your grip on his hand tightened, desperate and unrelenting.

"You're not leaving me." The words came out ragged, almost broken, but they were firm. A demand, not a plea. "You're not leaving us."

Toji said nothing.

His silence only made the panic rise in your chest, your breath hitching as fresh tears slipped down your face. "We'll find something else. Another way. There has to be something."

Still, he stayed quiet, his jaw clenched, his blue-green gaze flickering with something unreadable. "Toji." Your voice cracked. "Say something."

He exhaled, slow and measured, before giving a small nod. Not a word. Not a promise. Just a nod. It wasn't enough. But it was all you had. And that was when you finally broke ever so harshly, like a wave crashing against a cliff. 

The sob tore through you as you collapsed into his arms, gripping onto him like you could hold him here, like if you just held tight enough, time would stop. His arms wrapped around you, slow at first, then firm. Strong. Steady.

He could see Tsumiki trying to hold it together just behind you from the peripheral of his eye, his heart breaking even more at the sight. He hated seeing her so upset. It was harder when it came to the kids. That's why knew he wasn't prepared to see his son's reaction.

"You're not leaving me, goddamn it." you whispered again, your voice muffled against his hospital gown. "I won't let you."

His chest rose and fell beneath you, and you felt it when he pressed his lips to the top of your head, warm and lingering. "I know."

It was a lie.

You both knew it.

But right now, you need to believe it.

epilogue

Fushiguro Tsumiki had never been one to hesitate when it came to family. So when her father Fushiguro Toji started looking smaller in his hospital bed, nothing like the strong, energetic man he used to be, when the weight he had always carried with ease now dragged his shoulders down, when the exhaustion in his face became permanent.

She knew she had to do something.

She had to save her dad.

She wasn't ready to let him go just yet.

She still needed him.

"I want to donate blood to my dad." The words were firm when she said them to the nurse, standing at the reception desk with unwavering resolve.

The nurse blinked at her, startled. "Oh—well, that’s very kind of you, but we’d have to check if you’re a match first."

"I am, I know I am." Tsumiki answered quickly. "I’m AB negative, just like my dad."

The nurse nodded but still reached for a form. "That’s good to hear, but we’ll need to confirm your blood type. It won’t take long, just a quick sample, okay?"

Tsumiki nodded, rolling up her sleeve without hesitation. “Alright. Go drain me.”

Fushiguro Tsumiki hated needles. She always had. She still remembered being a kid, clutching Toji’s hand as the doctor readied the syringe for her booster shots, his deep chuckle rumbling beside her. 

“C’mon, ‘Miki, don’t tell me you’re scared of a tiny–ass needle.”

She had been. But she wasn’t scared now. She can't afford to be that right now. She had to be strong. She can't be weak. Not when Fushiguro Toji looked weaker every day, when his skin lost its color, when his voice, her father’s voice wasn’t as strong as it used to be.

And she hated it.

She needed his strength back.

She needed him back.

So she sat there in the hospital chair, rolling up her sleeve without hesitation, ignoring the way her pulse quickened as the nurse tied a band around her arm. "Just a little pinch, alright?" the nurse said with a small smile.

Tsumiki nodded and looked away. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She smiled at you. “Thank you for doing this for your dad. You’re such a sweet young lady.”

“I’ll do anything for my dad.” Tsumiki smiled at her. 

The nurse smiles wider. “I know you would.”

The sting barely registered.

This was for Toji.

This was nothing.

She flexed her fingers as the vial filled with dark crimson, her lifeblood. His lifeblood. The moment it was over, she pressed a cotton swab against the small puncture, thanked the nurse, and stepped out into the hallway.

And then she waited. The minutes ticked by slowly, her knee bouncing with impatience. It would be fine. It had to be fine. She was AB negative, just like him. Just like her dad. The shuffle of footsteps pulled her out of her thoughts.

Tsumiki looked up just as the nurse approached, holding a clipboard to her chest, her expression unreadable. For some reason, the sight of it made something heavy settle in Tsumiki’s gut. And she didn’t like that feeling.

"Miss Fushiguro?"

"Yeah?"

The nurse hesitated for a beat before glancing at the file again. "I just wanted to clarify something—you said you had type AB negative blood, correct?"

"Yeah." Tsumiki frowned. "I mean, I always thought I did. My dad is AB negative, so I should be, too, right?"

The nurse pursed her lips. "Well… your results just came back, and you’re actually O positive."

Tsumiki blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

"That… that can’t be right."

O positive? That wasn’t right. That wasn’t possible.

"I’m sorry, dear, but the results are accurate." The nurse’s voice was gentle. "You’re an O positive blood. Which means you’re not a match for your father’s blood type."

The world tilted beneath her feet. "No, no." she said quietly to herself. "No, there’s….there’s been a mistake. My dad is AB negative. He has to be my dad."

The words died in her throat. Because suddenly, memories started surfacing. Her father’s teasing voice: "You’re still my little girl, yeah?" 

The way her mother had hesitated that night when she poured her heart out. The way Nanami Kenshin had always looked at her with something unreadable in his bright eyes. The blood drained from her face.

"I… I need to go."

She turned on her heel before the nurse could say anything else.

Because suddenly, her father’s illness wasn’t the only thing breaking her heart.

And she hated how this was the beginning of the never ending break.

[blueberrymocha]

doing your hair ⊹ ࣪ ˖

┌──────────────────────┐

╰┈➤ fluff

➣ characters: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, hisoka, illumi, chrollo

➣ word count: x

└──────────────────────┘

gon:

- he mostly does simple styles like ponytails but it looks great

- you weren't really expecting him to be good at this

- but i guess mito taught him some hidden skills

- he's so down to brush/comb your hair

- and would be happy to just play with it while you lay on his lap

- if you're sick or feeling down, he'd help you take care of it

- the one thing he's not good at is using the tools

- as in, one of y'all has a 50/50 chance of being electrocuted if you ask him to blow dry your hair

killua:

- he's not an expert but he wouldn't turn you down

- likes the idea of you sitting in his lap watching some show while he plays with your hair

- which is what he'll end up doing, playing with it

- it's gonna look even worse and you'll have to do it yourself anyway

- you're not complaining though

- he probably wouldn't want to wash it or anything

- just cause i see him having super low maintenance hair

- so when he sees all the work you have to put in, he's like no ty

kurapika:

- he'll pass on doing it for you

“i’m sure you’re a lot better than me, love.”

- but if you asked him to brush, comb, take it down, unbraid, etc he'd love to

- is afraid to hurt you, which makes him so gentle it ends up taking much longer than it needs to

- would also put on a show and have a drawn out conversation, which also extends the time it takes

- every now and then he’ll tug on it or threaten to make it look silly

- because the normality of it all creates the most soothing environment for him to let his guard down

- it's actually quite relaxing for him to run his hands through your hair

- so he'll offer sometimes if he had a stressful day

- as for washing it, he'll generally help you unless he's super exhausted or busy

leorio:

- honestly you're brave if you let this man touch it

- he's a 4 in one soap kinda guy

- you'll ask him to do a simple bun and you'll never get that hair tie back

- it's legit lost in your hair

- anytime he tries to tie your hair back/up, he just misses half of it

- you're way better off just doing it yourself

- likes to watch you do it though, even something easy would blow his mind

hisoka:

- he's really good at doing hair

- you're a little scared at first but he takes it seriously

- no way is his dearest s/o leaving the house looking a mess

- but he’ll of course play around with you first

"are you sure you want me to curl your hair? that's putting yourself in a vulnerable position."

“i think i’ll take a couple inches off here.”

- he has you preparing for 2nd degree burns and scheduling appointments

- but once he's done and you see how skilled he is, you'll ask him to help out with other things too

- so now he's ended up being dragged into helping you on washday and styling your hair for formal events

- at least you got the last laugh

illumi:

- he's the king of taking care of his hair

- i mean just look at it, the length? yes please

- when it comes to yours though, you'd probably need to beg if you want him to style it

- once he finally relents, he's gonna go all out

- you'd be getting some complex, time consuming braid

- it looks great though, and he'd take pride if you showed it off

- if you have easy maintenance hair, he doesn't mind helping you wash, dry, brush, whatever it

- but if your hair needs more care or a long routine, he'd just leave that to you

chrollo:

- he might pull your hair back into a ponytail or bun every now and then

- like when you're cooking or even before a fight

- and if you want, he'll do a simple protective braid when you're about to fall asleep

- so if you asked him to style your hair, he'll do it with no complaints

- since he himself has short hair, he really doesn't know much

- would read up on hair maintenance though

- if you ever shower together, he's definitely gonna wash your hair for you

- otherwise he believes you're more than capable of taking care of it yourself

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

Becoming an Intelligent Woman

My Dears,

There is no greater goal than being a fine woman who is intelligent, kind, and elegant. As much as we all want to be described with these adjectives, it takes a great amount of discipline to get there. It is very doable only if you are ready to put in the work.

Here are steps you can add to your routine in the next 4 weeks that will make you 1% more intelligent than you were before. This is a process that should become a habit not a goal. It is long term, however, I want you to devote just 4 weeks into doing these steps first and recognize the changes that follow.

Watch documentaries: This is the easiest step, we all have access to Youtube. Youtube has a great number of content on art, history, technology, food, science etc that will increase your knowledge and pique your curiosity. I really did not know much about world history especially from the perspective of World war 1 & 2, the roaring 20s, Age of Enlightenment, Jazz era, monarchies etc but with several channels dedicated to breaking down history into easily digestible forms. I have in the last 4 weeks immersed myself into these documentaries. Here are a few I watched:

The fall of monarchies

The Entire History of United Kingdom

The Eight Ages of Greece

World War 1

World War 2

The Roaring '20s

The Cuisine of the Enlightenment

2. Read Classics: I recommend starting with short classics so that you do not get easily discouraged. Try to make reading easy and interesting especially if you struggle with finishing a book. Why classics? You see, if you never went to an exclusive private school in Europe or America with well crafted syllabus that emphasized philosophy, history, art, and literary classics, you might want to know what is felt like and for me this was a strong reason. Asides that, there is so much wisdom and knowledge available in these books. In these books, you gain insights to the authors mind, the historical context of the era, the ingenuity of the author, the hidden messages, and the cultural impact of these books. Most importantly, you develop your personal philosophy from the stories and lessons you have accumulated from the lives of the characters in the books you read. Here are classics to get you started:

Animal Farm by George Orwell

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald

Candide by Voltaire

Paradise lost by John Milton

3. Study the lives of people who inspire you: I dedicate one month to each person that fascinates me. I read their biography (date of birth, background, death, influences, work, style, education, personal life) For this month, I decided to study Frank Lloyd Wright because I was fascinated by the Guggenheim Museum in New York. I began to read about his influence in American Architecture (Organic architecture, Prairie School, Usonian style), his tumultuous personal life, his difficult relationship with his mentor (Louis Sullivan), his most iconic works etc. By the end of the year I would have learned the ins and outs of people I am inspired by through books and documentaries. Here are other people I plan to learn more about:

Winston Churchill

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

Ada Lovelace

Benjamin Franklin

Helen Keller

John Nash

Isabella Stewart Gardner

Caroline Herrera

Ernest Hemingway

Catherine the Great

Ann Lowe

My dears, I hope you enjoyed this read. I cannot wait to write more on my journey to becoming a fine woman. I urge you to do this for four weeks and see what changes you notice. Make sure to write as well, it is important to document your progress.

Cheers to a very prosperous 2024!

[icysab]

more niki boyfie hcs — falling for you edition!

requested here!

wc: <350 i think

a/n: this is a little different than my standard boyfie hcs but i wanted to try something new, so let me know your opinion in comments, reblogs, asks, etc. of this format !!

a/n no. 2: idc what anyone says riki is a DORKY, RIZZLESS LOSER SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD BOY AND I WILL WRITE HIM AS SUCH.

- bro was CAPTIVATED by your smile

- that was literally the first thing he noticed about you— how your smile lit up the room he was in

- you were one of jungwon’s friends and so he introduced you to all the members

- and when i tell you niki’s heart STOPPED when he saw you

- but niki is loyal to his bros!! so he swallowed the lump in his throat so jungwon didn’t kill him

- (jungwon, in fact, introduced you to the members because you mentioned that niki was cute. he would not have cared one bit.)

- only realizes he’s staring after sunoo nudges him with his elbow

- literally stuttering trying to introduce himself

- “i, uh, my name is- uh- riki”

- (failed) attempts at acting aloof fly out the window when you repeat his name back and smile

- the second you leave jake and sunghoon RELENTLESSLY tease the poor guy

- and he gets so defensive too, like he wasn’t acting like a lost puppy dog

- before jakehoon can strip niki of too much of his pride though, won tells them to knock it off

- after scolding the two goofballs (scary leader) won decides to tell niki

- “you know, i don’t care if you go for her”

- poor riki is not following

- “??”

- “she thinks you’re cute too, and besides, you’d make a good match”

- he malfunctions

- “no nono why would you think that!! HAHA- wait. she thinks i’m cute??”

- he’s all red and blushy

- at this point jakehoon are CACKLING at poor riki

- won explains that you thought riki was cute too and that’s why he introduced you two, but he didn’t expect him to be such a nervous wreck around you

- riki is shocked 😮

- after MUCH coaxing from the members, won finally gets riki to text your number

- riki’s leg won’t stop bouncing with nerves as he types out a message

- “hey, this is riki from earlier. i just wanted to say that your shirt was cool”

- all the members facepalm at his attempts at playing it cool

- you respond almost instantly, to riki’s surprise

- “hi riki!! thank you, + i thought your outfit was cool too :D”

- before he can breathe a sigh of relief that your text was super nice and simple, he sees the typing bubble pop up again

- “did you ask won for my number? hah you must have wanted an excuse to talk to me again ”

- he freezes again

- HOW DID YOU SEE RIGHT THROUGH HIM??

- he’s about to deny, deny, deny, but won stops him

- “dude, just tell her the truth. did you already forget that she thinks you’re cute too?”

- riki’s brows furrow in thought at that, but before he can even begin to construe a cool, smooth response, jake rips the phone out of his hands

- RIKI SCREAMS SO LOUD THE ENTIRE DORM REVERBERATES while jake books it to the bathroom to lock himself in

- after a minute, he walks out with riki’s phone and the most devilish smirk on his lips

- before jake can do anything else, riki snatches the phone back and apprehensively starts to read the damage jake had done

- “lol you caught me. if you want, we could get to know each other better over some ice cream tmr? it’ll be my treat”

- “woah, that was smoother than i expected. ill see you tmr riki :)”

- riki is dumbfounded. did jake actually just score him a date with YOU?? there’s no way this worked

- “thank me later,” jake teases

- he is so in shock that he doesn’t even have the capacity to kill jake. tomorrow, a date (???) with you? he can die a happy man.

- to be continued…. ?

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming. 

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be. 

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now? 

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place? 

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you. 

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life? 

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all. 

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that? 

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?” 

“Was he like that with you before?” 

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty. 

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.” 

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point. 

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?” 

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.” 

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.” 

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.” 

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.” 

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet. 

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.  

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused. 

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?” 

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons. 

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare. 

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction. 

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband? 

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married. 

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else. 

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu. 

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal. 

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her. 

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman. 

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong. 

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own. 

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her. 

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.” 

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse. 

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line. 

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots. 

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.” 

Oh… “He bought more than one?” 

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony. 

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.  

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi. 

There was no you in that vision anymore. 

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband? 

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one. 

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free. 

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them. 

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest. 

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!” 

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy. 

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.  

“Ah!” 

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part. 

“Willow!” 

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell. 

“Willow!” 

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness! 

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all. 

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon. 

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” 

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!” 

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!” 

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension. 

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.” 

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you. 

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.” 

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.” 

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy. 

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?” 

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat. 

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.” 

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.” 

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…” 

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest. 

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.” 

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind. 

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right? 

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again. 

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself. 

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.” 

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever? 

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy. 

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital. 

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you? 

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed. 

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.” 

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son. 

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined. 

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse. 

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself? 

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage. 

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family. 

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight. 

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.” 

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?” 

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it. 

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.” 

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else. 

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired. 

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?” 

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.” 

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?” 

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.” 

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists. 

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there. 

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi. 

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera? 

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet. 

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.” 

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.” 

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life. 

Both choices had no happy endings. 

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind. 

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were? 

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse. 

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!” 

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?” 

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him? 

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them. 

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you. 

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in. 

How sickeningly sweet. 

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality. 

It was out of love that he let you go. 

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too. 

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife. 

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore. 

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses? 

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you. 

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off. 

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries. 

This woman was all he needed. 

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider. 

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important. 

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it? 

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman. 

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you. 

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it? 

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar. 

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life? 

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate? 

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third? 

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing. 

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions. 

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him. 

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you? 

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.” 

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget? 

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?” 

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart.  “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.” 

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.” 

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore. 

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now. 

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway. 

As for you, well… 

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?” 

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire. 

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor. 

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon? 

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news. 

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.” 

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?” 

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy. 

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son. 

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.” 

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?” 

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.” 

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?” 

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself? 

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here. 

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth. 

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over? 

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now? 

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces? 

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.” 

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given. 

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi? 

[000-pawz]

princess treatment (bnd) ˚ · .

ot6 headcanons , fluff , just bonedo treating u like the princess u r!!! (gn reader)

rest of the members under the cut!

a/n: 2am brainrot takeover hi

sungho ˚ ⋆｡˚

𐙚₊˚ always pulls you into his lap whenever possible!!! loves having you close to him and it gives him an excuse to be a little possessive for a bit...><

𐙚₊˚ gives you random gifts and flowers just because he the smile you give him every time (and the thank you kisses too)!!! you'll wake up to a text from him saying "check your mailbox <3" and boom, there's a brand new necklace in there, all shiny and pretty...(he also asks you to wait to put it on so he can do it himself)

𐙚₊˚ puts on your socks and shoes for you!!! pecks your leg after pulling your socks up because duh.... you are royalty!!! even stops in the middle of the sidewalk to tie your shoes if your laces come undone

𐙚₊˚ cooks for you all the time!!! if you even slightly mention craving something, he's in that kitchen before you can even blink >< he lets you sit on the counter and feeds you little bites to taste test because you're his mini chef!!!

˚ ⋆｡˚ riwoo

𐙚₊˚ if you order something and you don't like it, he'll happily trade his food with you <333 he's content just seeing you eating well

𐙚₊˚ sings you to sleep and strokes your hair...and if you've been struggling with sleeping lately, he'll stay up with you until you fall asleep first so you don't get lonely :<

𐙚₊˚ if he sees something that reminds him of you at the store, trust that he'll be buying it in .3 seconds..."oh y/n would like this", "this is y/n's favorite color", "they were thinking about getting one of these"... like he's always thinking of you

𐙚₊˚ "i don't ever want you to be upset, darling. let's talk about this, okay?" like he's so serious about communication. he values your point of view and input over anything and makes sure you always feel seen and heard!!!

jaehyun ˚ ⋆｡˚

𐙚₊˚ opens every single door for you because why would his s/o ever have to touch a dirty door handle when he's literally right there???

𐙚₊˚ writes you lengthy handwritten notes and poems...sneaks them in your bag when you aren't looking or leaves them on your side table to wake up to <3

𐙚₊˚ surprises you with a bubble bath and tea when you get home from a stressful day...gives you a massage after and encourages you to vent to him so he can hold some of your burdens for you :((

𐙚₊˚ brags about you!!! he loves sharing your achievements with people, showing you off to everyone he knows because he's so proud of you and so so so lucky that you chose him <3

˚ ⋆｡˚ taesan

𐙚₊˚ your personal photographer!!! takes pics of you all the time, whether you ask him to or not (he prides himself in getting the perfect candids for your feed)

𐙚₊˚ notices the super small things... like oh you don't like tomatoes in your food so he picks them all out for you <3 and he knows you always carry chapstick in your bag, so he buys you a bunch so you never run out

𐙚₊˚ buys you so... many... clothes... you're sure more than half of your wardrobe is made up of taesan's contributions... it's not his fault you look good in everything!!! he just has to get everything for you so he can see you in it himself <3 (and mayyyybe show you off to everyone else)

𐙚₊˚ makes you personalized mixtapes and writes love songs about you!!! (for your ears only!!)

leehan ˚ ⋆｡˚

𐙚₊˚ "hey beautiful", "you're so gorgeous", "my pretty baby" and any other sappy compliment he can give you at every waking hour of the day

𐙚₊˚ chivalry is not dead for as long as leehan is around!!! he'll give you his coat if you're cold, walks on the outside of the curb to keep you safe, carries your purse/bag for you, pays for all your dates (even if you insist on splitting the bill), etc.

𐙚₊˚ he does all of the planning for trips and he's so intentional and thoughtful about everything so you never have anything to worry about other than being pretty and enjoying yourself <3

𐙚₊˚ loves giving you his clothes to wear like nothing makes him happier than seeing you in his big hoodies and t-shirts!!! he'll even take his hat off and place it on your head simply because "you look cuter with it" like he's so obsessed

˚ ⋆｡˚ woonhak

𐙚₊˚ #1 hype man!!! even if you aren't feeling too confident, he'll be showering you in compliments and praise because you're always beautiful to him, no matter what

𐙚₊˚ leaves you a bunch of texts throughout the day just to check in on you, sends you silly selfies, makes sure you've eaten, and if he asks you to recap your day to him, you better type 4 whole paragraphs about every single detail or he won't accept it ><

𐙚₊˚ posts you every. single. day. like it's actually crazy... you'll click on his Instagram story and boom, there's a cute picture of you picking flowers at the park with the caption 'they're the prettiest flower in the world' and it's so so so cheesy but it makes your heart flutter every single time

𐙚₊˚ shares your hobbies!!! if you're into crocheting, he will sit there for 3 hours making a blanket with you...or if you like to do makeup, he'll let you practice on him!!!

reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3

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