#this one fully took me a year but at least it's fully completed and I don't have to think about it anymore

[okkinannah]

CHIHIRO - nanami kento

pairing: Kento Nanami x fem!reader

synopsis: have Adam help lol

word count: 11.7k

warnings/tags: major character death, hurt/some comfort, hurt/no comfort, angst angst angst

a/n: eep, i’ve never written anything like this so i’m PRAYING it’s good. i feel like the pacing is a little off but whatever, who gaf

march 2006 - said you won't forget my name

“Y/N!”  

At the sound of your name, a grin tugged at your lips—a warmth spreading through you as two familiar figures approached. One radiated an unshakable enthusiasm that made you feel as if everything was possible, while the other exuded a quiet, measured resignation that had become comfortingly familiar. Haibara Yu waved with both hands, practically bouncing with excitement, his energy filling the space between you. Behind him, Nanami Kento walked at his customary, deliberate pace, his expression as inscrutable as ever, though you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—a silent acknowledgment that he was glad to be here too.  

“I was starting to think you two were going to stand me up,” you teased, your voice light despite the undercurrent of loneliness that had marked your days. As you spoke, you adjusted your grip on your kusarigama, feeling its reassuring weight against your shoulder.  

Nanami exhaled slowly, a soft roll of his eyes conveying, without words, “Of course not.” He offered no verbal retort, yet the barely perceptible upward curl of his lips betrayed his fond exasperation. Yu’s smile, meanwhile, shone so brightly it bordered on disarming— the kind of smile that made you wonder if he ever had a bad day.

“If we didn’t come, who else would keep you company, Kyoto’s one and only first-year superstar?” Yu quipped, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“Superstar?” you snorted, shaking your head, though his warmth was infectious, coaxing a soft, genuine laugh from you.  

It was a strange, bittersweet position to occupy—being Kyoto’s only first-year sorcerer, always paired with Tokyo’s freshmen because none of you were yet allowed to take missions solo. The setup was far from perfect. You didn’t possess the influential backing of a powerful family name, nor did you have a flashy innate technique that made heads turn. All you had was decent cursed energy and the kind of combat skills you’d honed through sheer determination. And perhaps, deep down, that “just decent enough” was what made you real.  

Your fingers flexed reflexively around the hilt of your weapon as you nodded toward the road leading into the village. “Come on. The auxiliary manager is waiting, and I don’t feel like getting chewed out for being late.”  

Yu groaned dramatically, tossing his head back as if in mock protest, but his eyes sparkled with humor as he followed without complaint.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

kinda strange, feelin' sorrow

The village was silent when you arrived—unnervingly so. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, leaving the trees motionless and the air thick with an unsettling stillness. The auxiliary manager had done their job well; the evacuation was complete, the curtain had been raised. Yet, a cold knot of unease churned in your gut, warning you that this quiet was only the calm before the storm.

Then—well, shit.

The report had lied.

This wasn’t a Grade Four curse. Not even close.

Its presence pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, making your skin tingle with an almost desperate urge to escape. The air was suddenly tainted by the acrid stench of rot and something metallic—a smell so thick it churned your stomach. Bile rose unbidden, and you had to swallow hard to keep it at bay.

You tightened your grip on your kusarigama, though your fingers betrayed you with their tremor. This was wrong. It was stronger than you’d been led to believe—Grade Two at the very least. Perhaps even worse.

Before you could fully register the shift, the curse lunged.

Instinct took over. The chain of your weapon whipped through the air as you swung, but the curse was unnervingly fast—its elongated limbs twisting in a grotesque dance to avoid your strike. It moved with an agility that defied its monstrous form, leaving you momentarily stunned.

Then it hit you.

The impact sent you sprawling across the rough ground, scraping against the dirt as you rolled desperately to evade the next attack. A sickly wet sound followed—a slithering, shifting noise that made your stomach churn in revulsion.

“Damn it,” you hissed, forcing yourself to rise even as your ankle pulsed with pain.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Nanami moving with that same precise efficiency that you relied on. His blade flashed silver in the dim light as he aimed for the curse’s arm—a clean, calculated strike meant to disable it. Even he, however, struggled to land a decisive blow.

“Watch out!” Yu’s voice rang out, sharp with urgency.

But the curse was already shifting again.

Then came the searing pain.

A burning agony wrapped around your ankle, dragging you down before you could even process the shock. The curse had you in its grasp—a slimy, sinewy limb coiling like a vice, its touch scorching as if your very existence was an affront to it. A strangled scream tore from your throat, and you clawed at the dirt, desperate for anything to hold onto.

“Hold on!” Yu’s call was barely a whisper over the roar in your ears as his hands found yours, gripping tightly and pulling you toward stability. His strength was a lifeline, but the curse’s grip only intensified, sending white-hot pain shooting up your leg. Your vision blurred, the edges darkening, until— 

Nanami.

In one fluid, calculated motion, he delivered a strike that severed the cursed limb. It fell away, oozing something black and viscous, and for a moment, the relief of being freed clashed with the lingering agony.

You gasped, scrambling upright as your breaths came in ragged, uneven bursts. The curse wasn’t finished yet—it writhed, its grotesque form twitching as it prepared to lunge again.

Not this time.

With trembling fingers, you forced the words out, your voice hoarse yet resolute.

“Divine Weight.”

In that instant, a surge of cursed energy erupted from your palm, unseen but undeniable. The force crashed down upon the creature, pinning it to the ground with a sickening crack. It writhed in defiance, its twisted form contorting violently, but it was trapped—for now.

Nanami didn’t waste a moment. Stepping forward with calm, lethal precision, he raised his blade in a single, unerring arc. The Ratio Technique cut through the chaos—precise and final. The curse let out an ear-piercing shriek as it dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the echo of its agony.

Silence settled over the scene.

Your legs wobbled, the adrenaline that had propelled you now fading into exhaustion and lingering pain. You exhaled sharply, collapsing onto one knee as your injured ankle throbbed mercilessly.

Before you could gather your scattered senses, Yu was at your side. The usual lighthearted spark in his eyes had been replaced by a rare seriousness as he crouched down, studying your injury with cautious concern.

“This doesn’t look good,” he muttered, his hands hovering uncertainly near you as if he feared that any touch might worsen your pain. “Does it hurt?”

You shot him a flat look. “What do you think?”

He winced. “Right. Stupid question.”

A weak, humorless laugh escaped you despite the pain.

Nanami knelt beside you next, his gaze sharp and assessing. One glance was all it took. “Chemical burn,” he stated evenly. “We need to get it treated before it worsens.”

You nodded, swallowing hard against the discomfort. “Shoko can—” you began, but before you could finish, Nanami moved.

Without ceremony, he scooped you up. His arms were steady and unyielding as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you away from the immediate danger. 

“What the—? Hey—” you sputtered, instinctively gripping his shoulders as a flush of heat rushed to your face. “I can walk, you know.”

He didn’t dignify your protest with words. Instead, his grip tightened, securing you in a way that left no room for argument. His expression was resolute, unreadable—but beneath it lay an unspoken tenderness, a silent promise of protection.

“Don’t be reckless,” he said simply.

Those words weren’t scolding, nor were they gentle; they were immutable, as inevitable as gravity. The quiet conviction in his voice silenced any protest before it could form.

Damn him.

You shifted slightly in his arms, torn between discomfort and embarrassment. “You’re overreacting,” you muttered, turning your face away. “Shoko will fix it in five minutes.”

“Exactly,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Which is why you’re not making it worse by walking.”

Yu snickered beside you. “Wow. Never seen you so docile before.”

You shot him a glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His grin was wicked and unapologetic. “Oh, absolutely.”

A groan escaped you as resignation settled in. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Yu laughed again, adjusting his hold on your kusarigama with exaggerated care, as if the weapon were the most delicate treasure. “Ridiculous?” he repeated, feigning offense. “Or incredibly dependable?”

Despite the pain, a twitch of a smile betrayed your amusement.

Fine. You’d let them have this one.

Leaning your head back, you sighed. “If Shoko gives me hell for this, I’m blaming you both.”

Yu’s easy laughter rang out again, and for a brief, precious moment, you swore you saw the corner of Nanami’s lips twitch up in a smile.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

august 2007 - i know you said before you can't cope with any more

Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as you raced through the hushed halls of Jujutsu High, your heartbeat a frantic drum that seemed to echo your mounting dread. The school was unnervingly quiet—as if it, too, were mourning a loss it couldn’t quite name.

Ahead, the morgue door loomed like a silent sentinel. For a heartbeat, you hesitated, unsure if you were ready to face what lay beyond. But you had no choice. You had to be strong.

Peering through the small window, you caught a glimpse of him—Geto Suguru, his third-year uniform rumpled as if he’d been slumped there for hours. His dark eyes briefly flicked toward the door at the sound of your approach before turning back to the table before him.  

You didn’t see Kento. You didn’t see Yu either.

But you did see the body lying on the cold, unyielding steel slab.

A hollow ache settled in your chest, growing until it threatened to overwhelm you. You had heard the news on a mission—details delivered in sparse, clinical fragments. Two second-years were sent out; only one returned. You had fought hard to keep your mind from conjuring their faces as you processed those words. But standing here now, staring at that table, the reality was inescapable.

Steeling yourself, you nudged the door open. The creak of the hinges sliced through the suffocating silence like a desperate plea. The first thing your eyes fell upon was Nanami, slumped in a chair against the far wall, a damp cloth draped over his face. His uniform was streaked with sweat and something darker, his loosened collar a testament to the exhaustion weighing him down. He hadn’t stirred at your arrival—not even a flinch.

Yet he was alive.

A wave of relief crashed over you, raw and almost painful in its intensity. But as your gaze drifted back to the table, that relief curdled into something far more devastating.

Yu.

Joyous, dependable Yu—whose too-wide smiles and unshakeable optimism once made even the bleakest moments bearable—now lay still. Unmoving. The sight of him, so at odds with the vibrant life you remembered, made your stomach churn.

A lump rose in your throat as you swallowed hard, your fingers curling into trembling fists. The sterile, cold air and the incessant hum of the fluorescent lights above made the moment feel unbearably loud.

Suguru’s eyes tracked you silently from across the room, his expression unreadable yet heavy with resignation. In his gaze, you saw shards of your own despair—the same quiet rage and helplessness that told you none of you were safe, that this wasn’t a tragic mistake, but an inevitability.

Before you could stop yourself, your legs carried you forward. You found yourself standing over Yu’s body, your breath coming in shaky, unsteady bursts.

He looked… peaceful.

And that twisted the knife in your heart further, making you want to scream into the oppressive silence.

Your stomach twisted violently, and you bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood—a bitter reminder of how deeply this pain cut. Lowering your head, you pressed a trembling kiss to Yu’s cold forehead. The chill of his skin sent a shiver through you, a cruel confirmation of the finality you could neither deny nor escape. You whispered a quiet prayer, the same one your mother had taught you as a child—a prayer that now felt empty, yet it was all you had left to offer him.

Turning away with leaden legs, you forced yourself toward Nanami.

He still hadn’t moved.

As you drew closer, his hand lifted almost imperceptibly—a small, tentative reach, as if by instinct, as if hoping to anchor himself to some semblance of stability.

Without hesitation, you let your fingers slip into his. In that moment, he squeezed them—three times, a rhythm you had memorized long ago.  

I’m here.

You squeezed back. I know.

His grip was firm, almost too tight, but you welcomed it. If this was the only thing holding him together now, you were willing to let him crush your hand if that was what it took.

The silence between you stretched on, thick and oppressive, punctuated only by the hum of the morgue’s lights and the slow, measured cadence of Nanami’s breathing.

Finally, your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, laden with resignation and sorrow.

“This is going to be a shitty year.”

For a long, suspended moment, nothing more was said. Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of Nanami’s lip twitched—not a smile, but a bitter, hollow acknowledgment of a truth both of you knew too well.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

you told me it was war, said you'd show me what's in store

Neither of you got much sleep that night.

How could you, when grief clung to you like a second skin—heavy, suffocating, and inescapable—even in the quiet darkness? It seeped into every space between your breaths, into the way your fingers curled subconsciously into the fabric of Nanami’s borrowed shirt, desperate for something tangible, something real.

The moment you saw his face in the morgue, you’d made your decision. You couldn’t go back to Kyoto. Not now. Not when he was grieving. Not when you were drowning in sorrow.

The consequences could wait.

Now, curled up beside him in his cramped dorm, you stared blankly at the ceiling, your eyes tracing the shifting shadows on the walls. The bed was too small for two, yet neither of you minded. His warmth pressed against you, his slow, steady breathing the only anchor in a world turned unrecognizable by loss.

He had lent you one of his old band tees—a shirt worn soft by time and memories, still carrying the faint, familiar scent of him—and a pair of shorts to replace your uniform. The fabric was gentle, yet it offered little comfort against the ache in your chest.

Time had lost its meaning. You couldn’t tell how long you’d been lying there, limbs tangled together in an unspoken, desperate attempt to hold on. The sun had long vanished, leaving the room shrouded in shadows that seemed to mirror the weight in your heart. Yet neither of you stirred. In that silence, there were no empty pauses; instead, the quiet was filled with exhaustion, sorrow, and the words you both couldn’t find the strength to speak.

Then Nanami shifted ever so slightly. His hand, almost instinctively, brushed against yours before sliding up to rest gently under your chin. His touch was impossibly soft—as though he were trying to memorize every contour of you, anchoring himself in your presence to stave off his own unraveling.

Without a word, he kissed you.

It wasn’t a kiss born of desperation or urgency, but a soft, aching press of lips—a kiss so tender it stung with its gentleness. In that fleeting moment, the warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and your own grief stirred and softened in response. There was no frantic need for rescue, no urgent hunger; only the quiet, fragile desire to feel something beyond the crushing weight of loss.

And so, you didn’t pull away.

You knew you should. You knew you ought to. But before the thought could even fully form, it was swallowed by the heat of his mouth and the way his fingers curled reassuringly against your jaw—as if he feared you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight.

“Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with the weight of too many unsaid words. “We shouldn’t.”

The words tumbled out, sounding more like an obligation than a plea, and even as they left your mouth, you didn’t move away. Instead, the words felt hollow, and you watched in silent dismay as you saw a flicker of sorrow pass over his face. It wasn’t anger that marred his expression—it was something deeper, something quiet and broken.

He didn’t retreat. Instead, he exhaled shakily and pressed his forehead against yours. His breath, uneven and warm, spoke of his struggle to remain whole. His grip loosened—not out of surrender, but out of a shared, silent understanding.

“Please.” His voice was hoarse, frayed at the edges—a single, vulnerable plea that shattered the fragile barrier you’d both built around your pain.

And in that moment, you unraveled.

It wasn’t a cry of desperation; it was pure, unadulterated honesty. It was the quiet admission that both of you were drowning under the weight of loss, that neither of you could possibly face this abyss alone. Every ounce of exhaustion, every shard of heartache you’d endured felt too much to bear. And so, the only thing that made any sense was to hold on—to each other.

You had always seen Nanami as the steady rock, the unyielding foundation. But now, in this dim room, he was simply a man weighed down by too much sorrow. And you? You were utterly exhausted by the relentless need to be strong.

Your resistance crumbled as you met his kiss with one of your own, slow and deliberate. Your fingers wove into his hair as he sighed softly against your lips, the moment deepening—not with urgency or passion, but with a soft, aching tenderness that was raw and real. His hand slipped to the small of your back, grounding you, tethering you to this fleeting present while everything else threatened to slip away.

It wasn’t about fixing the broken pieces or forgetting the loss. It was about finding something, however fragile, to hold on to amid the wreckage—to share the unbearable weight, if only for tonight.

And as his hands pulled you closer, his touch reverent and laden with unspoken promises, you realized—

For the first time that day, the grief didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

april 2010 - said, "i need to be alone now, i'm takin' a break"

You were the first person he told when he decided to leave jujutsu sorcery behind. It was a soft kind of devastation—the kind mixed with a desperate, almost unbearable relief that, for once, you wouldn’t have to send someone else you loved away in a body bag.

The conversation had come almost a week after graduation, after you had finally made the move to Tokyo. His apartment—spacious, quiet, and unerringly practical, just like him—was no longer solely his. It was yours, too.

You glanced over your shoulder as you peeled a potato, the smooth scrape of the knife against the cutting board serving as your only distraction. “You sure that’s what you want to do?” you asked, your voice carefully calm. You concentrated on the task, determined to hide the brief flicker of relief that flashed in your eyes.

Nanami nodded without breaking his focus, his gaze heavy with certainty. “You’ve seen what it’s done to the people we care about. I mean… I can’t say I blame Geto.”

Your grip on the knife tightened, the blade halting mid-motion. You avoided meeting his eyes. “I can’t say I do either,” you admitted after a moment, the truth hanging in the air. “Though… I think he’s going about it the wrong way.”

You sensed his eye roll even without turning to look at him. “That’s implied,” he replied, a note of gentle reproach in his tone.

A soft hum escaped you as you set the knife aside and wiped your hands on a dish towel. When you finally turned to face him, you took in every detail—his tired eyes, the deep lines etched by relentless burdens, the way he carried the weight of his past missions and future disasters as if they were tangible. “What would you do?” you asked quietly, letting the question linger. “You know, after quitting?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering a life so far removed from the life you both knew. “Maybe one of those fast-track college programs. I could work as a salaryman,” he said, half in jest, half in a search for something simpler.

A dry chuckle escaped you, and you arched a brow. “Ah, trading one soul-sucking job for another. Sounds perfect,” you replied, your tone laced with irony that belied your inner turmoil.

His expression softened into a half-hearted glare as he closed the distance between you. His hands found your hips, seeking solace in the warmth of your touch. In response, your arms naturally wrapped around his neck, your fingers grazing the nape of his neck as if to memorize every line, every curve. He leaned forward, his breath warm against your skin, and murmured, “Don’t be like that, Sweetheart.”

For a moment, the room shrank to just the two of you—the soft, deliberate kisses he placed on your neck, each one an attempt to soothe the tension, the unspoken worry that perhaps you were drifting apart. “I’m not being like anything,” you replied lightly, though the truth was more complicated. “I’m just pointing out the truth.” You sighed, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes searching his for a spark of understanding. “Look, if it’s what you really want, then obviously I’ll support you.”

He nodded against your neck, his face burying itself in the comforting curve of your shoulder for a heartbeat longer than necessary, reluctant to let go. But when he finally pulled back, his eyes held a seriousness that silenced the room. “It is what I want,” he said firmly. Then, lowering his voice as if to share a secret, he added, “I think you should think about quitting too.”

A laugh bubbled from you, almost instinctive—a laugh that quickly faltered as you caught the earnest, almost pained look in his eyes. He wasn’t joking. In that moment, every unspoken fear and every quiet hope surged forward, leaving you to wonder if the life you envisioned together was slowly unraveling, or if perhaps this was simply a part of the journey you both had to navigate.

The silence that followed was heavy with meaning, and in that weight, you realized that sometimes, the truth was more complicated than words could ever capture.

“No.” The word slipped out before you could stop it—sharp, resolute, final. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N,” he began, but you cut him off.

“No.” Your arms released their hold on him as you stepped back, creating space that felt more like a chasm. You couldn’t believe he would even suggest this. “I’ve worked too hard for this. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get here? To prove myself when no one else believed I could?”

His eyes darkened with concern, his voice low yet unwavering. “I know how hard it was,” he said. “I saw it, Y/N. I’ve seen you push yourself to the brink over and over again. You don’t have to keep doing that—”

“Yes, I do!” Your words burst out, raw and unfiltered. “Do you have any idea how many people are counting on me? How many lives I’ve saved? How many more I can save?”

His tone shifted then—calm, but each word cut deeper than the last. “And how many more people are you going to watch die?” he asked, his voice a measured blend of sorrow and urgency. “How many more times are you going to walk into a fight, knowing it could be your last? How long before I have to bury you, too?”

The question struck you like a blow, and you flinched as the weight of his words settled between you. “That’s not fair,” you murmured, your voice trembling as if each syllable pained you.

“It’s not fair,” he agreed softly, his eyes softening with unspoken grief. “None of this is. But I’m tired, Y/N. I’m tired of watching people we care about die. Tired of seeing you risk your life every day. I can’t—I can’t lose you too.”

For a long, heavy moment, the air was thick with silence—a space filled with your shared fears and unvoiced frustrations. You crossed your arms, turning your gaze away as if the distance might dull the sting of his words, trying to steady your racing heart.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone gentler now. “I know you’ve worked hard. And I’m proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you. But I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself when there’s another way.”

“And what?” you snapped bitterly, your words laden with raw pain. “You want me to give up everything I’ve worked for? Everything I’ve fought for? Just so I can… what? Sit at home and pretend the world isn’t falling apart?”

His reply was quiet but piercing. “I want you to be alive. That’s all I want.”

The conflict inside you churned, a storm of pride, duty, and love. You understood his plea—deep down, you did. Yet this wasn’t something you could simply set aside. No matter how much he wanted you to walk away from the edge, you couldn’t abandon the path you’d chosen.

“I can’t,” you whispered, voice barely audible, the words heavy with resignation. “I can’t just walk away.”

Nanami hesitated, then closed the distance between you once more. His hands, gentle and insistent, found yours. “I’m not asking you to decide right now,” he said softly, his tone a blend of pleading and patience. “Just… think about it. Please.”

Reluctantly, you nodded, letting the remnants of the argument dissolve into his touch.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

august 2011 - how come when i rеturned, you were gonе away?

“More overtime again?” You frowned, glancing at the clock in the kitchen as a surge of frustration prickled beneath your skin. The minutes ticking by felt like they were mocking your expectations. Nanami didn’t even get the chance to answer before you continued, your words tumbling out as if a dam had burst. “But you said last week you wouldn’t take any this week. That you’d be here for our anniversary.”

On the other end of the line, he sighed—a heavy, weary sound that carried the weight of long hours and unspoken regrets. “Look, sweetheart, I know. I know I did, but things came up, and—”

“Things came up for me too, and I turned them down,” you snapped, your knuckles white as you gripped the edge of the counter. Each word was loaded with the sting of disappointment and the exhaustion of compromise. “Do you know how much trouble I’ll be in with the higher-ups because I said no? Just so I could be here? For you?”

There was a long, agonizing pause on his end—a silence that stretched and throbbed with unspoken apologies. For a moment, you allowed yourself the fragile hope that he might say he was sorry. Instead, his tone shifted to something defensive. “It’s not like I wanted this to happen. I don’t exactly have a choice—”

“You do have a choice,” you cut in, your voice rising with a blend of anger and hurt. “You always have a choice. But you’re the one who keeps choosing work over us. Over me.”

“That’s not fair,” he countered, his calm beginning to fracture. You could hear the strain in his voice as if every word was a battle against obligations he couldn’t escape. “You think I enjoy working overtime? Do you think I like spending hours away from you? This isn’t about what I want, Y/N. It’s about what has to be done.”

“What has to be done,” you repeated bitterly, shaking your head though he couldn’t see it. The words felt like a bitter mantra, each syllable deepening the ache. “You know what? Forget it. Clearly, I’m the only one who cares about today.”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, but his words sounded hollow—a feeble attempt to bridge a growing chasm. “You know that's not true.”

“Do I?” you shot back, the anger melting into raw hurt. The question hung in the silence, laden with all the unvoiced longing for reliability and closeness. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. Not when you keep breaking your promises.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Each second seemed to stretch on, the distance between your hearts growing with every unsaid word. Finally, you exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall as the fight drained out of you like water from a worn-out sponge. “Whatever. Happy fourth anniversary to you, too.”

Without waiting for any further reply, you ended the call and tossed your phone onto the counter, the clatter echoing the finality you felt in that moment.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

and that's when you found me

That night, you went to bed early, slipping beneath the covers with a heaviness in your chest that no amount of tossing and turning could shake. Usually, you’d stay up waiting for him, savoring every silent moment before the day began again. But tonight, exhaustion and sorrow weighed you down too much.

In the dim quiet, you heard the bedroom door creak open, each familiar footstep a reminder of all the nights you’d clung to his presence. You kept your eyes shut, steadying your breathing as you pretended to sleep—pretended that you didn’t need him, even though every fiber of your being ached for his closeness.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice tentative, as though he feared disturbing the fragile peace between you. When you didn’t answer, his tone shifted gently. “Y/N, don’t be like that. I know you’re awake.”

The bed dipped as he slid in behind you, his body warm and solid, a living shield against the loneliness you felt. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close until your back rested against his steady chest. In that moment, you wanted to push him away—to hold onto your lingering frustration—but the comfort of his embrace softened the edges of your anger.

He reached up, gently moving your hair aside, and pressed soft, lingering kisses to the nape of your neck. His warm breath stirred your skin as he murmured, “Sweetheart, please. Don’t shut me out.”  

Your resolve wavered as you bit your lip, the single word escaping as a quiet, almost desperate, “Ken…” It was as if that one syllable carried all the hope you had left.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low and earnest—a raw admission that broke through the distance that had grown between you. “I’m sorry I missed today. I’m sorry I broke my promise. I don’t have an excuse, and I won’t make one. But I need you to know that I love you. I love you more than anything, and the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”  

Hearing him, you felt the anger you’d been clinging to slip away, replaced by a fresh wave of hurt and longing. “Do you know how much this meant to me?” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your vulnerability. “I wanted today to be special. I wanted us to be special.”

His grip tightened, as if trying to hold onto you a little closer, a silent plea for forgiveness. “And we are,” he said softly. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. I know I don’t say it enough, and I know I don’t always show it the way I should, but it’s the truth. You’re my world. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

Slowly, you turned in his arms, coming face-to-face with the man who had always been your safe harbor. His eyes, shining with a mix of guilt and love, seemed to plead for another chance. “You can’t keep doing this, Kento,” you said, your voice trembling as you spoke not just for yourself, but for the future you both deserved. “You can’t keep putting work before us. It’s not fair—to me or to you.”

His thumb brushed gently along your cheek, a silent vow to do better. “I know,” he murmured. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

You searched his face, desperate for any sign of insincerity, but found only the man you had fallen in love with—a man flawed yet earnest in his desire to make things right. “Okay,” you finally whispered, letting the words fall between you, heavy with both resignation and hope. “But this is your last chance, Kento. I mean it.”

His forehead rested against yours, a tender act of closeness that made your heart ache all over again. “I won’t let you down again,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

The kiss that followed was slow and deliberate—a mingling of sorrow, apology, and unwavering commitment. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that spoke of unspoken promises and fragile hopes. It wasn’t just an apology—it was a lifeline, a silent pledge that somehow, together, you could mend the broken parts.

Your hands, almost on their own, found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss deepened. He pulled you closer, his touch reverent, as if afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile moment.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips brushed along your jaw and trailed down to your neck. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands tracing lazy, comforting patterns along your back—a language of tenderness that needed no translation.

“I love you too,” you whispered, barely audible, as he pressed you back against the mattress. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

june 2014 - contemplatin', beg your pardon

Shoko flipped a page in her magazine, the soft crackle of the paper filling the quiet infirmary. Her eyebrow arched ever so slightly as she remarked in a tone that was flat yet touched with amusement, “Nanami’s coming back to sorcery? I thought he was done with all of this.”

You leaned back in your chair, cradling your tea cup between your hands. The steam curled upward, its warmth a fleeting comfort against the chill of uncertainty in your thoughts. “Supposedly,” you replied, your voice carrying both skepticism and a trace of wistfulness. “He’s talking to Gojo about it now.”

For a moment, Shoko’s gaze flickered over to you, as if searching for something behind your words, before returning to the glossy pages of her magazine. “Huh. Maybe they’ll ship him off for that thing in South Korea,” she mused, the casual curiosity in her tone belying an undercurrent of knowing amusement.

A dry but genuine laugh escaped you. “Doubtful. The only place he’s ever mentioned interest in is Malaysia. He’s made that much clear.”  

Shoko tilted her head, her expression unreadable yet thoughtful. “Maybe. Maybe not. I hear they’re narrowing down who to send, though. The higher-ups are playing favorites, as usual.”

You took another slow sip of your tea, savoring its earthy bitterness as it grounded you. “Well, it won’t be Satoru,” you said with a wry grin that hinted at both admiration and exasperation. “They need their strongest here. They can’t risk him causing international incidents.”

A soft snort escaped Shoko, and her lips curved into a faint smile. “God forbid. The world isn’t ready for Gojo Satoru off-leash,” she quipped.

You rolled your eyes, settling deeper into your chair as the room’s quiet enveloped you both. “Can you imagine?” you continued, your tone half in jest, half in disbelief. “They’d probably bring him back on the first flight—hands tied, blindfold on, with a ‘return to sender’ note taped to his chest.”

Shoko laughed outright then, a sound rare and genuine that broke through the usual monotony. “He’d still call it a success somehow,” she muttered, shaking her head as if at the absurdity of it all.

After a comfortable lull, you found your eyes drifting to the ceiling, your mind awash with conflicting emotions. The idea of Nanami returning to sorcery brought a strange weight to your chest—a cocktail of relief mingled with unease, hope tangled with fear.

Breaking the silence, Shoko’s tone softened, more serious now. “And how do you feel about it?” she asked, her steady gaze fixed on you as though she could see every unspoken thought.

You met her look, the silence between you thick with understanding. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your tea cup. “Part of me is glad. It’s selfish, but I hated watching him throw away that part of himself—the part that wanted to help people. But the other part of me...” You paused, exhaling slowly as if expelling the uncertainty. “I don’t want to lose him, Shoko. Not like we’ve lost everyone else.”

Her eyes softened, and she nodded slowly, as though absorbing every word. “He’s a stubborn one, though. If he’s coming back, it’s because he’s made peace with the risk. Or at least convinced himself he has.”

A faint laugh escaped you, shaking your head in both amusement and incredulity. “That’s supposed to comfort me?”

“Not really,” she replied, leaning back and lighting a cigarette with deliberate calm. The thin stream of smoke that followed seemed to carry her resigned amusement. “But it’s the truth. And hey—if he does decide to pack up for Malaysia, maybe I’ll join him. Sun, beaches, no dead bodies to autopsy? Sounds like paradise.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “You’d get bored in a week.”

“Maybe,” she conceded with a shrug, exhaling a final, languid plume of smoke. “But it’d be a hell of a week.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

july 2014 - not today, not tomorrow

The meeting room felt suffocating in its rigid formality—neatly stacked paperwork, shoji screens casting delicate, transient shadows, and the heavy scent of incense mingling with an undercurrent of authority. You’d never imagined that being summoned by the higher-ups would feel so oppressive.

“You want me to go to South Korea?” you repeated, your voice a mix of incredulity and a sharp laugh that escaped before you could clamp it down. You turned your head slightly, scanning the room for any hint that this was an elaborate joke—a ploy to test your reaction, as the elders had done before. But there was no mischief in their eyes; not even the faintest twitch of a smile.

"You're serious?" The amusement in your tone evaporated, replaced by disbelief. "Wouldn't Utahime be a better fit? Or, frankly, anyone else?"

Teaching had never been your forte. Sure, you’d led missions and taken younger sorcerers under your wing when needed, but molding an entire generation? Establishing a jujutsu program from scratch in a foreign land? That was a beast of an entirely different order.

The elders exchanged measured glances before one of them cleared his throat and launched into a long-winded, condescending explanation. It quickly became apparent that this wasn’t about your skills or past achievements. It was about control, influence, and ensuring that the new program in South Korea would reflect the indelible mark of Japan’s jujutsu society.

"You come from no clan," one elder stated deliberately, his tone slow and deliberate. "You are skilled, yes, but without the backing of powerful lineage, your presence will not overshadow the program itself. We require a more neutral choice."

"Not to mention," another chimed in with clipped precision, "your adaptability has been noted. Unlike some of your... peers, you follow orders without excessive disruption."  

That was an unmistakable dig at Gojo—and you felt the sting of it.

You hummed, cocking your head to the side as your mind churned with conflicting emotions. “Can I have some time to think? A week, maybe?”

The request slipped out before you could fully register why you needed it. Deep down, you already knew the answer. You weren’t going anywhere. You couldn’t leave Tokyo behind—not now, not when things were finally beginning to settle, not when you were almost certain that he was planning to propose soon. It was something overdue, as both your friends had pointed out, and, if you were honest with yourself, something you desperately longed for.

To your surprise, they didn’t argue.

"Very well," one of them said, nodding curtly. "One week."

You offered a polite bow and stepped out of the room, exhaling slowly as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway.

Still, a week was a long time.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

when i come back around, will i know what to say?

The knife in your hand glided effortlessly through the meat, the rhythmic slice against the cutting board a steady, grounding sound. Across from you, Nanami diced onions with his usual precision, his brow slightly furrowed in quiet concentration. The domesticity of it all felt reassuring—comfortable—a life you had built together, piece by piece.

Which is why you were careful. Calculated. You chose your moment like a surgeon making an incision, acutely aware of the blade, of where to cut.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” you began.

Nanami didn’t look up, but you caught the slight quirk of his lips. “A dangerous thing,” he teased, his voice as dry as ever.

You rolled your eyes and nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Shut up, I’m serious.”

That made him pause. He set down the knife and tilted his head toward you in quiet expectation. There was something undeniably steady in the way he looked at you—patient, unwavering. You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself.

“Maybe it’s time to start talking about a wedding? I mean, we’ve been together for almost seven years. Don’t you think it’s time?”

The response was immediate.

“No.”

The word hit like a slap—sharp, absolute. You recoiled, blinking at him in disbelief. “No?”

Nanami exhaled, irritation threading through his voice. “I mean no, Y/N.”

A slow, creeping numbness settled in your chest. “So what, you just never want to get married?”

His brows furrowed further. “Why does it matter? We’ve been together for years. Isn’t that enough?”

Enough.

The word cracked something open inside you. “Maybe for you,” you said quietly, controlling the tremor in your voice, “but not for me.”

Nanami sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Marriage doesn’t change anything, Y/N. It’s just a piece of paper.”

You let out a sharp breath—a mix of scoff and bitter laughter. “It’s not just a piece of paper to me. It means something. It means commitment, security—hell, it means you actually want this for the long run.”

His jaw clenched. “And you think I don’t?”

You searched his face desperately, hoping to catch a glimmer of regret or doubt—anything that showed this conversation mattered as much to him as it did to you. But all you found was that same quiet stubbornness, that familiar wall he always raised when things got too close.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. “I don’t know, Ken. Every time I try to talk about the future, you shut me down like this.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into his features. “I just don’t see the point, Y/N. We’re together, we live together—what more do you need?”

You needed to breathe. You needed to not feel as if you were standing on a ledge, waiting for him to pull you back from the edge.

“So that’s it?” you asked, voice wavering as you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “You’re fine with us just… staying like this forever?”

“Yes.”

It was simple. Final.

Your stomach twisted painfully. You pressed your lips together, inhaling sharply before speaking again. “Well… maybe I’m not.”

The words landed between you like a drawn knife, gleaming harshly under the kitchen light.

Nanami’s expression hardened. “What are you saying?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the counter as if it could anchor you. “I got an offer.” The words felt foreign on your tongue, heavy. “The higher-ups want me to help start a sorcerer program in South Korea.”

Silence.

Nanami’s eyes darkened, and his shoulders stiffened. “And?”

You lifted your chin. “I think I’m going to take it.”

His entire body shifted; tension coiled in the set of his jaw, his fingers curling into fists. “If you take that job, we’re done.”

Your breath hitched. You forced out a hollow, disbelieving laugh. “You don’t mean that.”

Nanami didn’t waver. “Yes, I do.”

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, raw emotion clawing up your throat. “You’re giving me an ultimatum?”

“I’m asking you to choose.”

It was the first time in seven years he had ever asked that of you. And suddenly, everything became crystal clear.

You had always been the one to compromise. The one to wait. The one to be patient. But no matter how long you waited, he was never going to give you the future you wanted.

So why the hell were you still fighting for it?

Your fingers dug into the counter, nails biting into the wood as your voice came out quieter, raw and steady. “Fine.”

A pause.

Then, softer—emptier—“Then I guess it’s over.”

Silence.

Nanami didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

So you did the only thing left to do.

You turned, grabbed your coat, and walked out the door.

And just like that, seven years collapsed into nothing.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

august 2014 - i don't, i don't know why i called

You hadn’t heard from Nanami since before you left Tokyo for South Korea. He hadn’t even joined your friends in seeing you off at the airport.  

Maybe that should have been enough of a sign to move on.  

But distance does strange things to grief. It softens the edges, blurs the hurt, and leaves behind a persistent ache—a void that no amount of fleeting companionship can quite fill. The Korean sorcerers were good people; you got along with them, went out drinking with them, even let one take you to bed when loneliness crept in. And yet, despite the transient distractions, a deep, unyielding loneliness still settled in your bones.  

Perhaps that’s why, when his name lit up your phone, you didn’t hesitate to answer.  

You pressed it to your ear, clearing your throat to keep your voice steady. “Y/N speaking.”  

A sharp exhale on the other end—relief, raw and unguarded—followed by his voice, tentative yet familiar.  

“Hey.” There was a pause, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d remain on the line. “I just—I wanted to see how it was over there.”  

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the phone. “Oh, you know, it’s alright. It’s going fine.”  

“That’s good.” Another pause, then, softer, almost fragile: “I miss you.”  

Those three words pressed into your ribs, stealing the breath from your throat. You turned toward the window, watching the moon hang heavy in the sky, its silvery glow mingling with your bittersweet memories. You couldn’t say why hearing him say it hurt so much—why it cut deeper than any wound—but it did.  

And still, you answered, “I miss you too.”

Silence. That delicate pause which carries both promise and peril.

Then, a plea escapes—a soft, trembling whisper wrapped in quiet desperation.

"Then come home, baby."

Your eyes flutter shut, weighed down by a tide of memories and unspoken fears. It would have been so easy to say yes—to gather your scattered hopes, pack your bags, and board the next flight back into a life that once felt like home. But you weren’t that person anymore.

Your voice, gentle yet resolute, cut through the quiet. "I have a job to do."

A heavy sigh resonates on the other end, filled with resignation and longing. You realize he expected this—a call meant not only to connect but to hear those words spoken aloud, to grasp a piece of what once was.

"I know," he murmurs. "I just thought I'd try."

Your lips part, words caught somewhere in your heart, before you turn back to the window. Outside, the moon hung in the sky, its silver glow a constant reminder of distance and connection all at once.

"Do you see the moon tonight?" you ask, your voice barely more than a fragile thread in the stillness.

There’s a pause—a moment stretching out like a heartbeat. Then comes his quiet reply, as if pulled from a dream: "Yeah, I do."

A sad smile tugs at your lips, bittersweet as it flickers with both hope and resignation. "It's nice, isn't it? So far apart, yet we're both gazing at the same light."

For a long, suspended moment, he remains silent. And then, his voice returns—so soft you almost wonder if you imagined it at all.

"Yeah... it is."

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

february 2016 - open up the door, can you open up the door?

Even after all this time, you hadn’t left Korea.

You could have. Your work had been done for nearly a year—your contract fulfilled, your purpose here long since served. And yet, you stayed.

Maybe it was because you weren’t ready to face Nanami. Maybe it was because there was nothing left for you in Japan.

Maybe it was both.

But despite the miles between you, you had never really let him go.

The phone calls, the texts—they should have stopped a long time ago. You should have drawn a line, allowed the wounds to close, forced yourself to let him become nothing more than a fading memory.

But you didn’t. Neither of you did. You couldn’t.

Not when the sound of his voice still felt like home. Not when his presence—even through a screen—still steadied something deep inside you.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, shattering the quiet. You reached for it instinctively, a well-practiced motion. The screen lit up, displaying the name you had never stopped waiting for.

A message. A picture.

The moon, full and bright against the Tokyo skyline.

Thinking of you, Sweetheart.

Your breath caught, warmth blooming in your chest before you could even stop it.

You crossed the room and pulled back the curtain, revealing the same moon glowing softly over Seoul. It was strange—how something so far away could feel so close.

Lifting your phone, you snapped a photo and began typing your response.

Same moon :)

You hesitated for just a second before adding two more words.

Miss you.

After setting the phone down, you exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself.

Somewhere, across the sea, Nanami was looking at the same sky. And maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for your message just as much as you had been waiting for his.

This ritual between you—these quiet acknowledgments of longing, of loneliness—had crept in without either of you planning it. You didn’t know when or how it began, but it had become something unspoken, something neither of you was willing to let go.

A minute passed. Then another.

Then your screen lit up again.

Wish you were here.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart pulled in two directions at once. Then, before you could stop yourself—

Been thinking about coming back soon.

The moment the words sent, doubt clawed at the edges of your mind. Did you really mean it? Or was it just another way of saying, “I miss you,” without admitting just how much?

Three little dots appeared—then vanished, then reappeared.

Then—

Yeah?

You swallowed, unease settling in your stomach. You had meant it when you typed it. But seeing it there, staring back at you, made it real. Made going back real.

And yet—

Yeah.

This time, his response came almost instantly.

Let me know when. I’ll be there.

A shaky breath left you, uncertainty pressing in on every side. But beneath it all—the weight of what those words truly meant—a smile slowly spread across your face.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

april 2016 - but there's a part of me that recognizes you

Finding him in the crowded airport felt like something inside you finally gave way—a dam breaking, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding until it shattered into sobs.  

In that instant, when your eyes met his, the world around you blurred into insignificance. Time and space collapsed, and you moved before you could even think, as if every month spent apart was converging in a single, overwhelming moment.  

Then, finally—finally—your hands cupped his face, and his lips found yours.  

The kiss was desperate, almost frantic, a silent plea to make up for every second lost. Warm, salty tears streamed down your cheeks, yet he kissed through them, each gentle press of his lips swallowing the tremor of your breath and every whispered “baby” that escaped you, before kissing you again, again, as if trying to mend the distance between your hearts.  

When he pulled away, it was only to trace the wet paths of your tears with his lips, each soft kiss an attempt to soothe the lingering sadness.  

And when he finally allowed himself to truly look at you—really look—he saw the subtle changes that time had wrought.  

Your hair was a little shorter. Not drastically so, but just enough for him to notice.  

Your eyes, though heavy with fatigue, held a softness now—a quiet lightness that spoke of hope and healing.  

That transformation—this vulnerable, tender beauty—was everything Nanami had ever wished for you.  

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand cradling the back of your head as he kissed you once more, this time slowly, reverently—as if you were fragile porcelain, something precious and irreplaceable that might shatter if handled too roughly.  

“I missed you,” he whispered, and in that simple confession, all the pain of separation and the promise of reunion mingled into one timeless moment.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

december 2016 - do you feel it too?

You frowned, your brows knitting in a silent question. “I thought we agreed—no gifts.”

Nanami’s lips twitched into a sheepish smile, the kind that softened even his sturdiest features. “We did.”

And yet, without another word, he placed the small velvet box on your lap.

In that instant, your heart skipped a beat.

You weren’t naïve—you knew precisely what that box meant. Your fingers hovered over it, hesitating as the weight of unspoken expectations pressed down on you, even though the box itself was astonishingly light.

You lifted your gaze to search his eyes, hoping for reassurance, for a spark of confirmation.

He simply nodded. “Just open it.”

So you did.

The moment you lifted the lid, everything changed. Nanami moved in one smooth motion, sinking gracefully onto one knee before you. His warm hands, firm yet tender, clasped yours as if anchoring you to a reality you desperately needed to hold onto.

And then, as clarity crashed over you, it all became undeniable.

Your breath caught, halting in your throat. “No,” you whispered, as though voicing the truth might shatter the delicate illusion. “You’re not—”

But Nanami’s steady gaze never wavered. “I am.” His voice, deep and resolute, vibrated with quiet certainty. “I want to marry you. I do, I really do.”

In that moment, you wondered if your time apart had softened the walls he once built so immovably around his heart—or if perhaps he had always yearned for this, only realizing it when the thought of losing you became unbearable.

You swallowed hard, your vision blurring as a shaky breath escaped you.

And then, despite every hurt, every year of separation, despite the lingering heartbreak—you found yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you murmured, barely audible, just as he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours—gentle, reverent, and filled with unspoken promises.

His breath, warm and steady, caressed your skin as he whispered, “Yeah?”

A quiet laugh, soft and almost disbelieving, escaped you. “Yeah.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

december 2017 - wringing my hands in my lap

You hated this. More than anything.  

Being separated from Nanami, fighting on opposite ends of Japan, gnawed at you in a way you couldn't escape. Every moment you spent in Kyoto, you thought of Tokyo—of him.

But you couldn’t be there.  

Kyoto had once been your home, your sanctuary, and when the call for help rang through these old streets, you couldn’t turn your back on it. The sorcerers here needed you—someone who knew this city, its corners and alleyways, its shadows. They needed the strength you could bring, even if it meant being torn from the person you needed most.  

You swallowed the ache in your chest and forced yourself to focus. “Move. Now,” you barked, your voice steady but not without a weight behind it as you ushered Zen’in Mai and Miwa Kasumi down the ruined street. The once-familiar cityscape had become a battlefield—buildings shattered, blood and curses thick in the air like a toxic fog.  

Then the air shifted, the familiar pressure of a curse closing in on you.  

You didn’t have time to process before it crashed through the alleyway, tearing the world around you apart. In an instant, you were separated, your pulse spiking as you searched for Miwa, your heart sinking when you saw the chaos engulf her.  

“Kasumi!” you shouted, but she was already gone, swallowed by the debris and the nightmare that was this cursed world. Your chest tightened, but you didn’t hesitate. You couldn’t.  

Mai was still by your side, gun drawn, her eyes sharp as she assessed the situation. You could see the fight in her—the same fire that burned in you. But the reality was, there were bigger battles to fight, and you couldn’t afford to let pride cloud your judgment.  

You were stronger than this.  

“Go,” you said, your voice firm, cutting through the tension. “Find Miwa. Get to the others.”  

Mai’s brow furrowed, confusion and frustration flaring. “What? I can fight—”  

“You’re needed elsewhere,” you cut her off, already stepping forward, the curse closing in like a looming shadow. “Don’t waste time.”  

The pause stretched long enough for you to feel the weight of her stare, the unspoken challenge hanging between you. But you saw it in her eyes—a flicker of understanding, and then a reluctant nod before she turned, disappearing into the smoke and wreckage.  

Leaving you alone.  

Your breath left you in a harsh exhale, your body coiling in anticipation as you squared off with the curse. You knew it would be brutal—knew the blood would spill, the pain would be sharp. But in this moment, it wasn’t just about the fight. It wasn’t even about surviving. It was about something deeper. Something you couldn’t ignore.  

You hated being separated. Hated the feeling of being worlds apart from him, from Nanami. The fear of knowing you couldn’t protect his back, not this time. But there was something else in that too—a stark, aching realization that if you couldn’t be with him, then you had to survive. You had to make it back to him.  

So you gripped your weapon, eyes narrowing as the curse twisted in front of you.  

You would make it back.  

With one last deep breath, you lunged.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

and they tell me it's all been a trap

Waking up in the infirmary was disorienting. The sterile, quiet space felt like it belonged to someone else, a place that smelled faintly of antiseptic, its air heavy with the residue of too many battles lost and won. You could taste the bitterness of it in your mouth, lingering and sharp.  

The dull ache in your chest grounded you—reminding you of the curse. Its putrid breath, how it had clawed its way into your lungs, leaving your throat raw, like fire was licking at the inside of your skin. Flashes of the fight flickered through your mind, quick and fragmented, each memory a jagged shard of something terrifying you couldn’t fully grasp. You couldn’t remember the details, just the feeling—the sensation of being overwhelmed.  

But then, you saw him.  

Nanami.  

He was slumped in a chair far too small for his broad frame, his head tilted back at an awkward angle. His hair fell in unruly strands across his forehead, the lines of his face drawn in deep, fatigued tension. Even in sleep, he carried the weight of it—of everything. The weight of the fight, the weight of watching you nearly slip away.  

“Kento,” you whispered, voice hoarse, cracking in places. The sound was so soft, almost drowned by the hollow silence of the room. The effort pulled a sharp, searing pain down your throat. You couldn't stop the coughing fit that followed, harsh and desperate.  

He was awake in an instant. His eyes shot open, sharp and frantic, as if your pain had sliced through his sleep and left him wide-eyed. His large hand wrapped around yours with a kind of urgency, a desperation you hadn’t seen in him before.  

The relief in his gaze almost knocked the breath from your chest. As if seeing you awake had yanked him from a nightmare—one where you weren’t here anymore, one where you didn’t survive.  

He leaned forward, his hand coming to your forehead, brushing against your skin with the gentleness of a touch meant to reassure both of you. His lips, warm and tender, pressed softly to your forehead. He lingered there, his breath steadying against you, like he needed this as much as you needed him.  

“How are you, my love?” His voice was low, rough in a way that reflected more than just concern. It was the weight of someone who’d watched, helpless, as you fought to stay alive. The endearment slipped from him effortlessly, but there was a tremor in the words—an ache beneath them, the way he clung to the sound of your name like it was a lifeline.  

You managed a shallow laugh, a rough and brittle sound that scraped through your chest. It didn’t feel like much, but it was something. “I’ve been better.”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, forming a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was wry, worn thin with exhaustion. His thumb brushed over your hand, slow, soothing. It was a quiet gesture, but it held all the care he didn’t know how to put into words.  

“You scared me,” he said, and there was something raw in his tone that made your heart ache. He wasn’t just talking about the physical danger, not just the fight. It was everything—how he’d feared losing you, how helpless he had felt.  

“I’m still here,” you murmured, the words tasting bittersweet. You forced your gaze to meet his, trying to convey the strength you still had left, the stubbornness that refused to be erased. “Still stubborn, still kicking.”  

His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes flickering with something unreadable, before softening. A deep breath he’d been holding in exhaled with a quiet huff. “Just... try not to give me a heart attack next time.”  

You chuckled weakly, letting your body relax into the steady rhythm of his presence. “Can’t make any promises,” you whispered.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

october 2018 - and you don't know if you'll make it back. i said, "no, don't say that.”

“Well, this can’t be good,” you muttered, your gaze fixed on the oppressive veil stretching over Shibuya. The sky, once a vast expanse, now felt strangled—an unnatural pall hanging heavy in the air, pulsing with an energy that seemed on the verge of snapping. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.  

Beside you, Nanami stood rigid, his posture unyielding, eyes narrowed with the weight of something darker than fatigue. His jaw clenched, the muscles at his temples flexing. His fingers twitched at his sides—claws threatening to dig into flesh, the tension in his body not yet breaking but already too familiar.  

Fushiguro Megumi and Ino Takuma flanked your group, their faces drawn, their bodies taut and on alert. The silence between all of you was thick with unspoken understanding—this wasn’t just another mission.  

“This level of a barrier…” Megumi’s voice cut through the stillness, his tone low and level. But even with the calmness of his words, you could feel the edge beneath them, the recognition of something beyond the usual threat. “It’s coordinated.”  

“Which means this wasn’t just a random attack,” Takuma added, his voice tighter than usual. “They planned this.”  

Planned. The word sank deep in your gut, heavy and cold. This wasn’t chaos, wasn’t the unpredictable eruption of violence you’d faced countless times before. This was deliberate, precise, and far more dangerous.  

Then your phone buzzed. Shoko.  

You glanced down at the screen, reading the message, the words sinking into your chest like stones. Your heart skipped—then stuttered.  

“I need to go,” you said, your voice tight, betraying none of the unease swirling in your gut. “Shoko’s requesting backup.”  

Nanami’s eyes flicked to you immediately, darkened with something unreadable, something raw. His face, usually a mask of calm, shifted for just a moment as his gaze swept over you. “Where?”  

“She’s at the designated triage point. But if they’re calling for me, it means something’s wrong.”  

Silence. Only for a heartbeat, but in that space, a thousand unspoken words passed between you.  

Nanami exhaled slowly, like he was trying to release the tension in his chest, but it didn’t fully leave. His fingers found yours, steady but firm. The touch anchored you, grounding you in the moment, in him, for just a fleeting second longer.  

“I love you,” he whispered, the words both a promise and a plea, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that lingered with more unsaid than spoken—too quick, too fleeting, like he was afraid to hold on to you too long, afraid that doing so would make it harder to let go.  

You melted against him, your hand finding his chest, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat, steady, but faster now, echoed beneath your palm, reminding you that nothing was certain, that nothing would ever be.  

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words barely a breath, but they were all you had to give him. You wanted to keep him safe, keep him in this moment, but you couldn’t.  

He rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours for just a second. The softness of the moment, the quiet exchange between you, made the world feel smaller, more fragile.  

“Stay safe,” he murmured, his voice low, a little rough.  

“You too,” you replied, your voice catching on the knot in your throat.  

You pulled away first, unwilling to, but needing to. If you stayed too long, you wouldn’t leave. You couldn’t afford that. Not with what was coming.  

You stepped back, a small distance, just enough to breathe without feeling his presence burning against you. You let your gaze linger on him for a beat longer, tracing the lines of his face, memorizing the set of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his brow furrowed just slightly in concern.  

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything you couldn’t say.  

You wanted to believe it. You had to believe it.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

june 2019 - did you take my love away from me?

The months after Shibuya were hard—harder than you ever could have imagined. Losing Nanami felt like your world had been upended, like the ground beneath you had crumbled away, leaving nothing but an endless, aching void. But not being able to say goodbye? That was unbearable. The silence where he should have been, the absence that echoed louder than any words ever could—it tore at you, thread by painful thread.

You had been helping Shoko keep count of the sorcerers who returned. Your hands were steady, but your heart was anything but. It pounded, frantic, desperate, hoping beyond reason that Nanami’s name wouldn’t be absent. That somehow, against the odds, he would walk through that door and take you in his arms again.

One by one, they trickled in. Battered. Broken. Alive. 

And Nanami wasn’t among them.

You remember Yuji finding you first. His face, stricken and haunted, told you everything before his words ever could. You didn’t need to hear them. The air around you thickened, suffocating. The world tilted, and then everything became unbearably still.

You didn’t remember much after that. Just the sick, choking sensation in your chest. Your lungs seemed to forget their purpose as you collapsed, your knees hitting the cold floor like it was miles away, impossibly far. The sound that tore from your throat was raw. So ugly. You didn’t recognize it as your own, but it was all that came out. Something primal, desperate, the kind of scream you never knew you had inside of you. 

You didn’t even feel Shoko sedating you.

The days that followed blurred together in a haze of numbness and pain. You couldn’t tell where the grief ended and the anger began. You heard whispers—whispers about Satoru’s imprisonment, about Yaga’s sentencing, about Yuji’s execution being expedited. Each piece of information felt like another knife, twisting deeper. 

You stormed into meetings, fueled by rage, screaming until your throat bled. The higher-ups didn’t care. They never did. All you earned for your outbursts was a target on your back—an investigation, a charge of abandoning a mission, a punishment you couldn’t bring yourself to remember.

You didn’t care to remember.

All you cared about was running.  

Running to the only place that felt familiar anymore—the home you had shared with Nanami. The place where his presence still lingered in the air, where the scent of him remained in the sheets. You grabbed what mattered—his glasses, a few clothes, the wedding rings you never got to wear. You clutched them like they were all that remained of the life you had dreamed of.

And then you left Japan.

For where? Malaysia.  

It had been his dream, once. To retire there, to escape, to build something new together. Now, you stood alone on the quiet beach, watching the waves gently lap at the shore, as the first light of dawn stretched across the horizon.  

It was peaceful. Serene. 

But it wasn’t enough.

Because for just a moment, you thought you saw him.  

A flash of blonde hair, a laugh that made your heart stutter—too familiar, too real. Your breath caught. Your heart clenched so tightly that you could feel the pulse of it, frantic and reckless in your chest.  

And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

A stranger. A ghost.  

The grief washed over you again, relentless and suffocating. It pressed against your ribs, making it feel as though you might shatter, might collapse under the weight of it all. 

But you didn’t.  

Instead, you closed your eyes. Exhaled. And you let the waves swallow the sound of your grief, knowing that no matter how far you ran, it would always find you again.

divider from: @cafekitsune

mdni banner from: @adornedwithlight

[owletstarlet]

patron saint of the lost causes (1/2)

“You can stop looking at him like that.” Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind. Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. “Like you broke his best friend."

(For @goodlucktai. You know what you did.

ao3 link | part 2

The thing is, Katsumi really doesn’t want to hear that he couldn’t have known what was going to happen. He knows. Knows because nobody will let him forget it. Knows from his 2AM search history the night after, curled up on his side on a guest futon in the Fujiwaras’ sitting room, feeling pinned down by the blue glow of his phone screen under the duvet.

Here’s how it happens.

***

It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, exactly, to be alone with Tanuma Kaname while walking the forty-five minute round trip between the temple and the combini through nothing but trees and rice paddies and still, thick summer air. Tanuma’s a decent guy. Quiet, thoughtful. And, as he’d made very clear within two minutes of Katsumi meeting him, fiercely loyal.

All good traits, really. But carrying a completely meaningless conversation with someone he honestly doesn’t know all that well doesn’t seem to be within his skill set. And that’s fine, it’s whatever.

It’s just that Katsumi’s starting to feel like a jackass when he’s the only one who’s talking.

School’s been out less than a week, and for some godforsaken reason he’s been talked into coming all the way out to Hitoyoshi by the group chat he’d been added to months ago, for some other godforsaken reason. The conversation had turned to potential vacation plans—the seaside, or a theme park. And it’s not like Katsumi would’ve said no; he’s got a whole month to fill here. But when Tanuma had either hedged or failed to respond altogether, the others had gotten it out of him pretty quickly that the better part of the month both before and after Obon would be full up with temple preparation and events. Apparently, even back when the temple had still stood vacant, some of the locals who had ancestors’ graves out in the crumbling cemetery there would still come out to tidy up as best they could and leave behind their flowers and incense and prayers. This is the second Obon since the temple had reopened, and not only were more visitors expected, but they’d need to be able to properly host them and provide an adequate place of worship.

From just that couple of messages, the others seemed to work out in short order just how overwhelmed he was. Which was news to Katsumi; sure, the guy wasn’t much of a texter, or talker, for that matter—but the messages had just seemed brief, concise, and apologetic.

But when they all show up on the temple doorstep a week later and Katsumi sees the way Tanuma’s shoulders sag with sheer relief, he knows the others were right.

Thus began a multi-day frenzy of scrubbing wood floors, polishing every metal surface within an inch of its life, weeding, dusting, and near-vicious refusals of Tanuma’s father’s offers to compensate them for their efforts. Katsumi certainly wasn’t against the concept of getting paid for busting his ass like this all day, but the man was drowning in paperwork and nonstop phone calls and visitations on top of whatever else it is that priests do all day, so he’d let it drop.

“He really does just radiate that dutiful son energy, huh,” Katsumi says to Kitamoto one day, leaning on a rake and blinking the sweat out of his eyes in the brutal 2PM heat, watching Tanuma pause to tug a crooked, bright red knit cap back into its place on the head of a tiny Jizo statue with endless care. He didn’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds kind of dickish coming out of his mouth anyhow. “Just looking at him is making me tired.”

Kitamoto hums. “That’s part of it,” he says, at length. “But this is his home, too.”

***

Katsumi feels sort of bad that Tanuma has to make this annoyingly long walk just because he himself doesn’t know how to get to the nearest Lawson. He’d lost a fierce, best-of-ten coin flip battle with Nishimura over whose turn it was to pick up snacks. It’s not that it’s a nightmarish distance away considering they’re on the bare outskirts of town, it’s just the late afternoon sun beating down on them that makes him ready to commit  homicide. And most of the way there between the wooded temple grounds and the main residential area is along a dusty gravel road between sunken rice fields, riddled with potholes and not especially worth it to navigate with a bike.

And Lawson isn’t even good.

Precisely none of this is Tanuma’s fault. This is an objective fact that he, of course, knows.

But they’ve only just left the store, and Katsumi ran out of random topics to fill up the stagnant air about ten minutes ago. The best he’s got at the moment, short of intermittent bitching about the heat, is his completely unfounded opinion of some new game he’d seen an ad for at the register which he never intends to play.

And Tanuma doesn’t look especially anxious, or at least not like he’s here under duress or anything—he was the one who volunteered to show Katsumi the way— but he doesn’t look especially comfortable, either. He’s already fished a bottle of tea out of the shopping bag, fiddling with the wrapper between sips and watching the dusty gravel crunch beneath their shoes. His responses aren’t rude, just a little off key, a subdued smattering of ‘oh’s and ‘hm’s and ‘I see’s that don’t always quite sync up with Katsumi’s words, a second too late or too early.  

Maybe it’s the truly ridiculous heat that’s getting to the guy. But he’s drinking his tea, and he’s wearing the same old wet towel he’s had slung around his neck all week, ojiisan style. He’d just re-soaked it again in the little sink outside the combini bathroom. It’s funny, Katsumi thinks, that Tanuma’s such a painfully self-conscious person, but then there’s these odd little things here and there that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him to be self-conscious about at all. He didn’t get out much as a kid, from what Katsumi’s heard. It’d be almost endearing if Katsumi was in any sort of mood to be endeared. As it stands it’s too fucking hot out here and now he kind of wants a stupid neck towel too.

Katsumi doesn’t want to make shit awkward, not when he’s staying in his house. But why had it been somehow easier to talk to Tanuma when they were being chased around some hell-mansion about to be murdered by some ghost-doll-things.

He’s not gonna take it personally. Even with his actual friends, where he seems most at ease, Katsumi’s seen him get fidgety, fingers worrying at a fraying shirt hem or drumming on his knee like he doesn’t always quite know how to physically handle too many eyes on him at once, or so many voices in the room. And more often than not, if one of the others picks up on this, he’s seen them seamlessly take the volume down a notch, give him some room to breathe, a little radius of calm. As though his comfort level is some sort of sixth sense for them all.

And Katsumi’s starting to wonder if running his mouth so that Tanuma wouldn’t have to was really the best course of action here. Maybe silence, comfortable or otherwise, would’ve spared them both.

Hell, too late now.

“…and it’s only available on the newest consoles, because of course it is, and even though Sakatani managed to get his hands on a copy and says he’ll let me play, apparently the graphics are kind of ass, so—uh. You good over there?”

Tanuma’s pinching the bridge of his nose, mouth twisting a little and pace falling a half-step behind Katsumi. He doesn’t really answer, just gives an absent diplomatic little hum like he has done for most of the conversation.

Katsumi stops walking.

“Hey.”

And Tanuma honest-to-god almost shuffles right past him, reaching up to rub at his temple now. He only stops when Katsumi snags the strap of the little freezer bag that he’d brought in a thoughtful yet desperate bid to keep the drinks cold and the tops of Nishimura’s chocorooms from all melting together inside the box. Tanuma blinks hard, like all the dust in the air has gunked up in his eyes.

Katsumi frowns. “Your head hurts?”

Tanuma just blinks again, nods once. The look on his face is strange. Vague, kind of.

Katsumi swears under his breath. “Hey,” he says again, louder, when Tanuma’s gaze slides away and out of focus. He grabs his shoulder, shakes him just enough to get his hazy attention back.

“Is this some youkai thing?” He tries to make the words slow and clear. “’Cause if we need to run…” Their chances wouldn’t be stellar, probably, out in the very-wide-open with no visible houses or people that Katsumi can see, but if they booked it they might make it back to the temple in 20 minutes. Barring being gutted in a rice paddy by invisible monsters.

Tanuma frowns, like he’s trying to grasp at the edges of his focus. “I don’t…”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t think so?” If there were time, Katsumi would feel like an ass for getting in his face and snapping at him. But he can feel Tanuma listing forward where he’s still gripping his shoulder, and he puts another hand under his elbow to steady him. “Should I call someone?”

Blink, blink. Apparently, that was too many questions at once. “…hot,” is what Tanuma finally settles on, in a small voice. Then his knees buckle.

Fuck.

Katsumi just barely manages to keep Tanuma from a total faceplant. He’s not so heavy, but it’s so abrupt that trying to catch him sends Katsumi falling back hard onto his own ass as Tanuma’s knees hit the ground.

Katsumi yelped as they went down, but Tanuma hasn’t made a sound. They’re both on their knees. Katsumi’s got him by the shoulders, and his head’s lolling forward, bumping into Katsumi’s chest.

And, shit. He was not lying. Katsumi can feel the heat rolling off him. He manages to maneuver a hand up to the side of his neck, and very nearly yanks it away, hissing through his teeth.

“Right, so,” he mutters. “Probably not youkai shit, then.”

Probably not doesn’t mean definitely not, though, and even as he’s trying to lower Tanuma fully onto the parched ground, curled onto his side, Katsumi’s fishing out his phone.

One bar. He’ll take it.

He hesitates for a second, torn between dialing Natsume, firing off a group message, or just calling an ambulance. He settles on the first—Natsume’s got the fastest mode of transport, which also happens to be an apparently giant and terrifying monster, if Sensei’s own words are to be believed, so that’s two birds one stone.

He hits Natsume’s name, fingers shaking.

And, dead air. Not even a dial tone.

He swears, checks the screen. Zero bars. A stupid little red x where the bars ought to be.

Goddamn backwoods towns and their goddamn backwoods reception.

“Hey.” He lays a hand on Tanuma’s shoulder. Katsumi can’t see his face, but his breaths are coming short and harsh. “I’m gonna borrow your phone.”

Less than one minute later and he’s given it up. Tanuma’s got the same network carrier, and an older phone to boot. It’s like there’s some fucked-up barricade made of yellowing rice fields, choking air and far-off cicada screeches between themselves and outside human contact.

Well then.

Tanuma’s eyes are open now. Not a lot, but that’s got to be better than passed out. Katsumi manages to work an arm under his shoulders, get his opposite hand under his head and neck. “Let’s get some tea in you,” he says, because he’s not sure what the fuck else to do. He can feel a pulse that’s far too quick thrumming under his fingertips, can see the intense splotchy flush across his cheeks that seems to have crept up out of nowhere. Tanuma doesn’t answer him, just scrunches up his eyes against the direct sun on his face, makes a small pained noise that makes Katsumi feel ill.

Making him drink turns out to be less than an inspired plan. He doesn’t seem to register the tea at first, letting it dribble down his chin, but then after a few slow gulps, he gags. And then proceeds to be sick, all over Katsumi.

“Eh. Didn’t like this shirt, anyways,” Katsumi tells him, hoping to exude literally any emotion other than pure terror, and barely managing to turn Tanuma’s face away in time before he gags again.

By the time he finishes, there’s tears in his eyes, and his breaths are coming ragged and loud. He doesn’t seem to notice that Katsumi’s dug through the combini bag, sliding the 2 liter of mugicha under his head and neck like a pillow, and tucked the bottle of Calpis that Taki had asked for underneath his armpit. The rest of Tanuma’s own bottle he upends over his neck and chest, soaking his towel and the top of his shirt. That, at least, elicits a reaction, a faint confused “hm” that would be perfectly reasonable for anyone whose friend has just drenched them in a bottle of jasmine tea.

It makes Katsumi smile, just a bit. “Gotta cool you down. Sorry.” He’s got no idea if it’s the correct thing to do; he’s based the entire tactic on some random lackluster TV drama he’d seen years ago, where some captain of a school track team overheated during a practice, and her teammates tried to care for her on the field while someone fetched a teacher.

At the very least, it didn’t seem to be hurting. His eyes are open wider now, marginally less clouded over. Katsumi’s positioned him on his side again in case of more puking, his cheek squashed against the tea bottle, and he seems to be focused on some spot on the gravel past Katsumi. He looks like he wants to say something, mouth forming around the shape of words, but nothing comes out.

Katsumi turns. There, lying maybe a half meter away on the ground, is something small and rectangular. Some kind of talisman, Katsumi thinks; it’s made of thin pale wood and covered in some inked-in kanji and symbols he can’t make out. He doesn’t touch it, at first. “This is yours?”

Tanuma nods, just a little, then screws his eyes shut like his head is protesting the movement. But by his side his fingers twitch vaguely in Katsumi’s direction. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when Katsumi was getting his phone. Katsumi scoops it up and places it in his palm, and Tanuma’s fingers close immediately around it.

He digs his own phone out again, an exercise in futility, and dials 119, resisting the urge to chuck it into the field as the call refuses to connect. It’s not like he couldn’t half-drag, half-carry Tanuma back towards the nearest house if he really needed to, but god knows how long it’d take, and even with his net zero medical expertise it seems like a bad idea to be moving him from this spot unless it’s on a stretcher, or on the back of a giant invisible wolf monster.

Tanuma’s staring at nothing at all again, his knuckles white from gripping the talisman. Katsumi frowns, grabs Tanuma’s wrist.

“You’re gonna break it. The wood’s pretty thin.”

Tanuma, predictably, ignores him. Even as weak as he is, with his thumb digging into the center of the thing, he’s likely to snap it in half.

But he doesn’t, or can’t, resist when Katsumi takes it from him. “Let’s keep this in one piece, huh. We need all the damned luck the gods want to chuck our way right now.” He’s about to slide it safely back into Tanuma’s pocket when he pauses, glancing down at the talisman.

“You’re sure nothing’s about to pop out and eat us, right?”

But Tanuma’s eyes have fallen shut again. He doesn’t seem to have passed out; he’s still gasping like he’s run a marathon.

“Right. Gonna take that as a yes.” He finishes tucking the talisman away, then slides his hand up under Tanuma’s fringe. He frowns. The intense heat, he was expecting. What he was not expecting was the desert-dryness of his skin. Katsumi’s own hair’s been plastered grossly to his forehead all week long, only to poke up and frizz at odd angles throughout the day. He hadn’t noticed earlier because of the damp towel and the tea-soaked shirt, but Tanuma’s not sweating.

He swallows back panic. God knows how he’s got any more panic to spare, really. “Look,” he says, not expecting an answer. “Nobody’s coming, because apparently nobody in this entire fucking town uses this road except us, so I’m gonna get help.” He blows out a breath. “I think we passed a pay phone. Ten minutes ago? Maybe less. I’ll make it five. If you get eaten by monsters while I’m gone and I ran in this weather for nothing I am gonna be pretty damn irritated.”

***

The only coffee the vending machines have, at least on this floor, is some dismal off-brand that only comes black. But Katsumi resolutely ignores the acid roiling in his stomach when Kitamoto passes him one and pops the tab. It’s something to do. Chug coffee, scroll his phone. Rinse, repeat. At least it’s cold.

“Hey.”

Something lands in his lap. A squashed-looking cinnamon roll, another vending-machine offering.

“Eat that too or you’ll puke again, probably,” Nishimura tells him.

Katsumi has to bite back the reflexive dickish retort. Nishimura looks just about as shit as Katsumi feels, but he’s still got it in him to be kind. Katsumi’s got nothing in him but raw nerves and stomach acid, at this point.

“Right,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

There’s not even a good reason anymore for the weird shitty haze over his brain. When Tanuma’s dad had called, just before three AM and only two-ish hours after they’d been forced to leave the hospital last night, the news had been good. He was awake, talking a little, and the fever definitely wasn’t gone but the numbers were creeping back downwards. They’d need a few days, at least, to run some barrage of tests and keep an eye out for lasting damage. Tanuma’s dad had been judiciously vague about just what kind of damage, but the half dozen browser pages on heatstroke currently open on Katsumi’s phone had given him a pretty grim idea.

The Fujiwaras’ house had been closest to the hospital, so they’d spent the remainder of the previous night all sleepless and huddled together on the floor of Natsume’s room. Katsumi hadn’t even put up a fight when they’d dragged his futon into the very center of the room between Kitamoto’s and Natsume’s, when Nishimura had idly flopped his own legs over Katsumi’s, or when Taki pulled up some aggressively cheerful magical girl anime on Natsume’s laptop to fill the dead air. When Sensei had tucked himself in by Katsumi’s hip and gone to sleep. When Touko-san had patted his arm, after their very late dinner, her eyes so gentle it hurt. He’d felt liminal, then, like he’d take off and run if he could just escape his own skin, but at least with the others all squashed up against him he could remember to breathe.

It's past 10 in the morning now. Visiting hours had started at 9, and they’d all piled on the first scheduled bus towards the hospital this morning and arrived before 8, anyhow. They had, of course, not been allowed to step foot out the door without a bag loaded up with bento lunches and a firm promise to Touko-san they’d be back by late afternoon when visiting hours had concluded to get some rest. Though she’d been saying something about “getting some things ready” to bring over herself for Tanuma and his dad, and based on the look on her face when she’d said it Katsumi’s half expecting her to march through the waiting room doors in the next hour or two like a woman on a mission with half the contents of the closest supermarket and drugstore loaded up in her arms. The thought makes his chest feel tight.

But they’d shown up just in time to be informed that Tanuma had an MRI among other things scheduled that morning, and that no, they did not know how long it would take.

Across from Katsumi, Natsume’s dozed off, despite his own best coffee-fueled efforts. He’s slumped sideways onto Taki, lank-haired and restless, flicking through an old magazine with disinterest as her heel bounces on the scuffed linoleum. Sensei’s perched across both their laps, still absurdly half-stuffed into the duffel bag in which they’d smuggled him through the hospital doors, which seems pretty pointless to Katsumi if he’s just going to sit there with his entire head sticking out at this point. But he seems entirely unbothered, his eyes closed; maybe asleep, maybe not. But they’re the only ones tucked over in this little alcove of a waiting room, and damn if not a soul has interrupted them for a good two hours.

It’s probably for the best that Natsume’s getting some sleep, really. He hadn’t gotten any more than Katsumi had; Katsumi had heard his muffled hitched breaths last night when they were all pretending to sleep. Out of all of them, he’s said the least this whole time.

“You can stop looking at him like that.”

Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind.

Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. 

“Like you broke his best friend,” Nishimura says, lowly, before letting out a slight oof like he’s been elbowed in the ribs.

Damn. Alright then.

None of them seem to be holding their breath for him to respond, at least. They don’t seem to know what to say, either, really. He’s weighing the pros and cons of just fleeing to the bathroom when Kitamoto finally says, “Natsume knows better than anyone that this isn’t on you.”

“Why?” Katsumi feels his gut give a little lurch. “Was it some kind of youkai shit after all, then?”

Taki shakes her head. “I mean, you’ll have to ask him, but. Sensei did go and check the area out last night and ask around and everything, and it all seemed normal.”

Sensei remains silent, naturally, but his ear flicks in Taki’s direction.

Kitamoto’s mouth twists. “What I meant was, just keeling over in random places with no warning or explanation is like. A hobby of Natsume’s.”

“We love it,” Nishimura mutters. “It’s great.”

Sensei huffs.

Katsumi glances at Natsume, still slack and dead to the world on Taki’s shoulder. And okay, maybe he kind of still looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. But much less so than when they were kids. Less so even than the first time Katsumi had come to this town. “How many times constitutes a hobby?”

And Nishimura frowns, then honest-to-god starts counting on his fingers.

Taki watches him, mouth twisting like she’s considering it. “I guess it depends what counts as keeling over. Or what constitutes a warning.

“Enough times,” Kitamoto says, decisively.

Nishimura scuffs his toe on the floor. “And with me and Acchan, he’d just be lying through his teeth about it, for months, because he didn’t think he could—“

Could what, Katsumi wonders, but Nishimura never finishes the thought. Kitamoto bumps their shoulders together Nishimura huffs, apparently relinquishing the rant building inside him, but Katsumi thinks the look on his face, the tightness in his eyes, is just this side of grief.

“Anyways,” Nishimura says, after an uncomfortable beat, sounding only slightly more subdued. “Even if you don’t wanna hear it, you’re the Big Damn Hero in this situation. No ifs-ands-or-buts, okay. We all know it. Natsume knows it.” Taki nods, flint-eyed like she’s daring him to argue.

“You can’t predict this stuff,” Kitamoto adds, after a moment, his expression hard to parse. “With anyone. And you’ll just make yourself crazy thinking you can.”

“Okay,” is all Katsumi can think of to say. It sounds dismissive, probably, but it’s all he’s got right now. He watches Natsume scrunch up his nose in his sleep. The council hath spoken, and he is too goddamned tired to refute them.

tbc

[acorviart]

everyone should attempt an artisan craft at some point in their life because it would cut down the number of comments questioning why handmade goods like ceramics or textile craft or woodworking are so expensive

and this is an unrealistic expectation, but I think the attempt should include seeing through to the end at least one "finished" item, no matter how clumsy or lumpy your first attempts might be. like to me, there's a huge difference in perspective between attempting to learn how to crochet or throw a pot for a few days, acknowledging that it's harder than it looks and giving up, versus committing to finishing that scarf or clay pot you started and working on it for weeks while you painstakingly learn from your mistakes and grow attached to your project while also simultaneously hating it.

once you finish the latter, your perspective changes from "why does this crocheted blanket cost $200" to "holy shit I can't believe they're charging $200 for this crocheted blanket instead of $2000" because you may have known crocheting is hard, you may have easily agreed with the idea that "handmade goods take time and effort" even before attempting a craft, but now you know firsthand the absolute time sink it takes to make things. like yeah dude, that one item took you 2 months to make and probably wasn't even an ultra complex item if it was the first thing you made, now imagine attaching an hourly wage to that time to calculate the cost (and this is ignoring every nuance of the artistic element and master crafters being able to work faster/charge higher because of their years and years of experience)

anyway this rant has been motivated by a comment I saw on someone else's ceramic post asking why a mug was $60 and they understand it's handmade but $60 just seems overpriced, and bro do you know how long ceramics take to make. that mug probably took at minimum 3 weeks between how long it takes to throw the mug, dry partially, trim the mug, dry fully, bisque fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, sand and paint and glaze, glaze fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, take product photography of the mug, write description and list the mug online for sale, im not even including the skill needed to complete all these steps without the mug literally exploding or collapsing while also making it an appealing piece of art, aaaaaaaaaaaaa

[scarlet-star-witch]

The shackles of duty

Summary: In the aftermath of Aegon's fall in the Battle of Rook's Rest, Aemond envisions his future as King with his Queen at his side

Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and in a secret relationship with Aemond

Part 2 to His Sacrifice

WC: 2.2 K

Warnings: Implied smut, possessive Aemond, kinda dark Aemond, but not really, he's more pathetic than anything

~~

Aemond stared at the plumes of smoke that billowed from where his brother and his dragon had fallen. 

His heart still raced with satisfaction, the adrenaline pumping through his veins keeping him in an almost high-like state he never wanted to come down from. His victorious smirk remained as he turned to the woman beside him who stared at the smoke with a conflicted expression. 

“With any luck, Aegon has perished, or at least will in due time.” 

She looked to Aemond, the furrow in her brow deep, betraying her indecision and unease.

She always knew what Aemond was capable of, she knew of the darkness within him, but to see it now, displayed so blatant before her very eyes, shook something within her, something she didn’t know she could feel towards the man she had loved for so long. 

Aemond grabbed her hands, holding them in his tightly as he turned to face her fully. 

“We can go back to King’s Landing. With Aegon’s state, I will be named Regent. I will sit the throne and you will be my Queen.” 

“What?” She breathed out, the only word she’d been able to speak in the past few minutes. 

“Aegon is not long for this world, surely. It won't be long until I become King. No one can deny us anything now. We can marry, you can stay with me by my side, we can rule together.” Aemond spoke with a franticness that was so unlike him, it unsettled her more than the gleam of desire in his eye in that moment. 

“Aemond…”

“We can finally be together.” He reminded her as his hand reached out to grasp her cheek affectionately, the longing he displayed tearing her insides, as if she were being pulled in two radically different directions. 

She watched him for a long moment, savoring the sight of that beautiful face she’d spent the past few years memorizing, every perfect dip and curve that never failed to leave her breathless, and emotion swelled as she realized she’d have to break his heart. 

“I can’t go with you.” She told him, her voice barely above a whisper, as if it would soften the blow, as if saying it quietly would mean it wouldn’t completely destroy him. 

His lip twitched, his smile fading slowly as he took in her words, praying he had misheard her. His grip on her hands tightened, as if he could keep her with him, as if he could forever stop her from leaving his side. 

“But…”

“Aemond, you know I cannot go with you. No one will accept-”

“Fuck what they think! You are mine and the second I sit on that throne I can make it so. No one could stop us.” 

She shook her head and moved to pull away, but he didn’t let her, his hand sturdy in hers, a look of heartbreak on his face as he felt her hesitation. 

“We are at war, Aemond. Our marriage will not solve anything, it won’t miraculously dissolve what is happening in our family, it will only create more chaos.”

“I don’t care.” Aemond spoke through gritted teeth as he stepped towards her, his hands now cradling her face. “I don’t give a shit about this war, you are all I want.”

She sniffled, bowing her head to avoid looking into his eye. It was too painful to see how she was hurting him. 

“Think about what you are asking of me.”

“I am asking you to be with me.”

“You are asking me to abandon my mother!” She yelled. 

His chest ached, the rush he’d been thriving on suddenly turning to despair as he looked at her, realizing he wouldn’t soon have her in his arms as he had hoped. 

“We can fix this.” He spoke with reverence, but it did little to soothe the storm within her. 

“Maybe we could have… but that was before- before Lucerys.” 

Aemond flinched, recoiling as if she had delivered a physical blow. 

“You know my regret for what happened. You know I would have never willingly jeopardize-”

“I know, I know.” She whispered tearfully, her hands moving up to grip at his wrists, feeling his pulse race beneath her touch. 

She remembered the night after learning of her brother’s death as she met Aemond on their Island, how he immediately fell to his knees in forgiveness, how he let her scream and cry and rage at him, how they held each other as they cried, knowing the state of their family had broken beyond repair, ruining what little chance they thought they had to one day be together as they wanted. 

She wiped her tears and with one last gentle caress to his hands, pulled them away from her, taking a step backwards before he could reach out to her once more. 

“I have to go.”

With every step she took away from him, he took a step closer, his face shifting each time she moved, his frown growing deeper and deeper as it abruptly dawned on him that he was about to lose her, yet again.

“Please, don’t do this.” 

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, the sight of him blurring as tears sprang to her eyes. She turned and didn’t look back as she climbed upon Vermithor, ignoring the pit that grew in her stomach, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that screamed at her to stay with him. 

She didn’t dare spare him a look. She knew she’d cave if she did, that she would fall back into his arms and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. 

She wiped her tears as she flew, ignoring the pull she felt to her other half as the distance between them grew greater. 

~~

A yell of pure rage escaped him as he flipped the table in his room. He grabbed anything he could get his hands on, throwing any and every object he found across the room, destroying everything in his line of sight. 

His bed was in disarray, the tapestries that lined the walls torn to pieces at his feet, candles knocked to the ground, trinkets shattered into nothing but dust as he raged. 

He only stopped when there was nothing left to ruin. 

His chest heaved with exertion as he let himself slump against his bed, burying his face in his hands as he struggled for breath, forcing himself not to let his tears fall. 

His mind raced with her words, each like a dagger to the heart, each one tearing away a piece of him, leaving him unwhole and untethered to the one thing in the world he cared about. 

Nothing made sense without her. It had only been hours and he was already spiraling. 

Simply picturing her beautiful face caused his chest to ache, as if the dagger of her words had been real, causing him to bleed and fade away until there was nothing left of him. 

He could not let this be the end. 

With a half-formed plan in his mind, he stood with haste and reached for his cloak, ensuring the hood covered his head and stepped out of his room, his steps quick and purposeful. 

He would not let her slip away from him again. 

~~

Her mind was racing, keeping her from her much needed sleep. She couldn’t stop picturing Aemond’s face, the pain she had caused him stirring her own. 

She couldn’t ignore the regret that overtook every inch of her. While she loved her mother and longed to see her as Queen, she couldn’t deny that Aemond had stitched himself within the fabric of her, he was now a part of her she couldn’t ignore. 

She didn’t quite know when it happened, all she knew was that it was too late to go back now, too late to pretend she felt nothing for him. She couldn’t move forward without him. 

She had to see him.

She hissed a curse and tore the covers off, getting to her feet and dressing in her riding leathers quickly, acknowledging the stupidity of her plan, but steadily ignoring it. 

It was easy to sneak out of the castle. She’d been doing it for years now, she could do it with her eyes closed. 

It took little time to get Vermithor in the air and on the course for King’s Landing, her heart in her throat as she flew. She didn’t know what awaited her, what danger she would be placing upon her head, all she knew was that once there, Aemond would never let any harm befall her. 

It was the only assurance she needed to drive forward into enemy territory. 

Suddenly, the bellowing roar of a dragon sounded over the din of the wind. 

She startled and narrowed her eyes, the moon providing light for her to see, but as the hulking figure of the dragon coming before her became clear, she soon realized, her eyes widening as she stared back at Vhagar. 

A breathless laugh escaped her, pure relief overtaking her as she realized Aemond was in the same state she found herself in, unable to settle for their circumstance. 

She pulled at the reins, directing Vermithor to descend, heading towards their Island with Aemond following seconds behind. 

The two mighty dragons landed and their riders met each other's gaze, the both of them taking a moment to simply admire each other, their shared smiles of equal relief and awe that they had had the same thought, the same longing to see each other. 

Her hands almost shook with anticipation as she untied herself from the saddle. 

She felt nervous, as if it were their first meeting in secret, as she approached him, but her reservations didn’t last as Aemond stepped towards her quickly, with no hesitation.

A shaking breath escaped her as she was pulled into his arms. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered weakly, her voice strained as her throat tightened, overwhelmed to be back in his loving arms. 

He shook his head and held to her tighter, softly whispering his relief to see her again

Time was lost to them as they embraced, as they held each other as only lovers could. 

“I don’t know what will happen next.” She mumbled, hating to break the moment with their reality, but it wasn’t something they could ignore for much longer. 

“I don’t either.” He admitted quietly. “But what I do know is that, whatever I do, it will not be without you. I don’t care how many times I will have to chase you down and bring you back to me, I won’t lose you.” 

“You won’t have to chase me. I’m not going anywhere.” 

His exhale of relief was loud and she barely had time to apologize again before he was kissing her firmly, leaving them both breathless and lightheaded with desire. 

His touch was desperate as he laid her down in the dewey grass. It was familiar to them, these fleeting and frantic touches all they could spare in the war that ravaged their families. 

He took her with an intensity as if it had been years since he’d felt her touch and not mere days as it had been. She felt more loved than ever before as he lavished his praise onto her, as his lips caressed every inch of her, as he made love to her with the burning passion as only a man in love could. 

Their cries of pleasure echoed on the desolate Island, their secret remaining shrouded in darkness and isolation. 

As he spilled his seed within her, his call of her name sending shivers down the length of her body, she held him tightly, wishing she could hold onto him forever, wishing she didn’t have to leave his side time and time again. 

He wasn’t quick to part from her, laying over her, his hands still eager to touch her, to remember the curves of her body in fear that it would be the last time. 

But they would never let it be the last, not as long as they still breathed life. 

He left her side with a promise to see her the next night. 

There was no mention of the throne, of titles or battles. It didn’t exist in their time together, the both of them determined to blissfully ignore the reality that was slowly crushing them, slowly pulling them further and further apart, no matter how hard they tried to fight it. 

~~

He lingered in her mind as she woke alone but sated, the phantom bliss of his touch, bringing a smile to her lips in the early morning. She could still feel the warmth between her thighs, feel the pleasurable burn of the marks he had left on her body. 

She smiled politely as her maid entered, placing breakfast down for her. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Princess?” 

Moon tea.

The words were on the tip of her tongue. She trusted her handmaiden, she’d never given her a sideways glance over the past years when she requested the drink. Her mother was still blissfully unaware, which meant her maid was at least keeping her secret. 

Yet the words didn’t come, a decision made in a fraction of a second. 

“No, thank you. That is all.” 

As her maid left, her hand drifted to her stomach, a smile forming on her lips as she wondered what their child would look like. 

~~

Hope you enjoyed! I have more Aemond content coming! I literally have a thousand ideas for this beautiful man, so stay tuned xx

[thewayitalknj]

I've been listening to a lot of Mötley Crüe lately to hopefully manifest me seeing them in Las Vegas next year. Came up with this while driving, which is how a lot of my ideas come to be recently. Word Count - 1.6k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

"Come on please, I have no idea what they have planned and it's killing me." He was practically begging you at this point. You roll your eyes as you walk down the next aisle, stacking the next set of 'romantic comedies' that just came in.

"Eddie, it's your birthday, it's supposed to be a surprise. And can you please stop bugging me while I'm working?"

"Yeah yeah sure I'll stop bugging you" he grits his teeth, "if you tell me what they have planned."

You turn around fully facing him, pushing your glasses back up your nose, taking your voice down to a whisper. "Look I truly have no idea what the fuck they have planned so please stop asking. Just be grateful they're doing something with you and you're not spending your birthday alone." You turn back around, making your way to the 'horror' section.

"At least come with me-"

"I can't, I have my bookclub tonight. But come to my place and tell me all about your guys night tomorrow if you're not too hungover."

He huff's his breath up, his bangs moving in the process. "Thanks a lot."

"I'm sure you'll have a blast."

A strip club. A fucking strip club. As much as Eddie appreciated what his friends were doing this is not what he expected. All he wanted was a guy's night in playing D&D and watching movies but no, his friends had to go all out.

The worst part is it was 'dress up night', so the strippers would be in various costumes. His friends thought the better, dress up plus dancing ladies ; what more could anyone ask for?

After a few hours sitting in a booth a few drinks in, an announcement sounded over the DJ speakers ; "alright everyone we have a birthday in the house! We want to welcome our birthday boy in Booth 21 to come on up for a special dance!" As everyone roared with excitement Eddie blushed under the neon lights.

"Why are y'all doing this to me?"

Garth pushes him forward, "Because we love you, NOW GO!" Eddie reluctantly makes his way up and sits on the chair provided for him. He drums nervously on his knees waiting for the song to start.

The next dancer comes to take the stage, dressed in all red, devil horns, and a red laced mask. Her hair is curled, not one piece left undone. She steps into the spotlight, and Eddie swears time halts and he has to take breath in order to steady himself. He is mesmerized. She slowly makes her way over, putting her hands on both sides of the chair. She eyes him up and down smirking to herself and as her song begins to play ; taking control of the room.

Eddie feels like he's fallen under some sort of spell, like something he wrote out for a campaign. He's so enthralled he completely forgot he was in a room with other people. He watches every move she makes ; the way her hips sway, how she doesn't come too close but just enough to tease him, and the way she makes eye contact with him? Forget about it ; Eddie swears he's falling in love with her right then and there, even though this was his first interaction with the mystery woman.

And in the three minutes the song plays, Eddie is so thankful his friends took him out. He tries to memorize every detail of the devil, just in case he decides to come back another time. Maybe on his own? Maybe with buddies again? Who knows, but he just had to remember her. Particular details ran through his head ; the hair style, the color of her eyes, and while she moved her body up against his, he noticed a small birthmark on the left side of her body, ironically shaped like a heart right above her heart ; and be still his own heart. Right when the music fades and the crowd begins to cheer breaking him out of his headspace, she leans in to his ear and with a sultry voice whispers "happy birthday sweetheart" and it's right then and there Eddie could have been shot through the chest by an arrow and he would feel no pain.

His posse of course never let him see the end of it, with constant teasing as the night went on. One thing was for sure, he could not wait to tell you about his night in the morning.

Eddie couldn't wait, he was practically banging at your door at 9:00am. You reach for your glasses on the nightstand, pull your hair in a messy bun and make your way towards the front door. You look through the peephole and Eddie is waving.

"Ed, what the hell-"

"I gotta tell you about last night." He races in, high on adrenaline pacing your living room.

"Good morning to you too-" You shut the front door, "can I please make some coffee first? I'm exhausted."

"Bookclub ran late?"

"Something like that. Want a cup?"

"Sure, thanks." You sulk to the kitchen and make your coffee, wondering what the hell has Eddie all wound up. You make your way back, handing him his cup as he takes a seat on your couch. "Damn, what book are you ladies reading that has you staying up so late?"

"It's nothing. So tell me, how was your birthday?"

"Amazing, they took me to a strip club."

You swallow your coffee, hard. "Oh wow, what an event."

"You're telling me, it was incredible. Well at least, she was incredible."

"Oh god Eddie don't tell me you fell in love with a dancer-"

"You don't understand. There was just something about her, I-I know it sounds corny but it was like magic. I've never felt like that before." He looks around your living room, then reaching over and grabs your shoulders playfully, shaking you. "Am I going crazy?!"

You laugh, "I don't think so. I just find it hilarious that it's a fucking stripper you're talking about."

"Yeah, well-" Just as Eddie begins to move his arms something catches his eye.

A birthmark. On the left side of your body. In the shape of a heart. He looks into your eyes, the same color and sparkle that were under the mask. He looks at your hair, it's normally straight, why does it look curly and wavy?

All these small details come together in his head. He moves his hands off you and runs them through his own hair, piecing everything together.

"So yeah, uh-enough about me...how was...bookclub?"

"Oh god you don't wanna hear about my bookclub. Why-"

"No no, I do..want to hear....about the bookclub. Please tell me." He takes another sip of his coffee, staring at the birth mark.

You follow his eyes, "is there something on me?"

"Hm, no. Just....so, bookclub?"

"Oh you know, just another night of girl talk about a steamy romance novel and too much wine, just the norm." Eddie can't even think straight, all the events from last night come rushing to his head.

You ponder at him wondering if he's okay, "sweetheart are you alright? You're starting to worry me."

Sweetheart, a nickname normally used frequently but now it's different. He jolts up from your couch. "I gotta go. Dustin and I have...stuff-to do."

You're dismayed, just nodding your head. "Um okay, but if you need anything just let me know-"

"Yeah uh thanks. And thanks for uh the coffee and...talk."

He speedily exits your home, and you're left wondering if maybe just maybe...

Just a Few Hours Ago

You stand off stage looking out to the man sitting on the chair. Only to realize it was Eddie.

"Oh shit-"

"What's up girl? Everything okay?" Your co-worker, Jade, comes up behind you.

"I-I can't go out. You take my slot instead."

"What, why? I'm not on for another 20, why do you want to switch?" She signals to Cassie, the DJ, to hold off on the music. Cassie gives a thumbs up and waits.

"I know the guy sitting in the chair, he's one of my friends. I can't...dance for him."

"Why? He won't know it's you, we're all dressed up tonight."

"Yeah but it's just...awkward that I know and he...doesn't."

"Look, I understand where you're coming from but I think you should just do it. He won't know it's you, does he know you work here?"

"No no, he's here with his friends for his birthday," You watch him drum on his legs, probably nerves. "I wouldn't picture him as someone who would want to come out and do this but, there he is."

"So, give him the dance of his life. Something he'll never forget. Remember, you're not going out as yourself." You nodded your head, Jade was right. You signal back to Cassie to start your song when ready. You quietly thank Jade, take a deep breath and take the stage.

24 Hours Later

As you apply your lipstick looking in the mirror, your other coworker Bianca comes in. "Hey B! How was your daughter's band recital?"

She takes a seat next to you giving you a half hug. "It was great! She crushed her solo, I'm so proud of her."

"That's incredible. I can't wait to see the tape!"

"Oh before I forget, Pam wanted me to tell you you got a private dance at 10:30."

"Wait, really?" You ponder, turning around in the chair. "I haven't done a private dance in weeks."

"Guess someone really likes you because they asked for you specifically."

"Oh wow. Really? Okay then, thanks for the heads up."

"No problem, be safe!"

Once 10:30 rolls around you make your way to Room #2, opening the door and stopping dead in your tracks the moment you see who it is, casually lounging on the couch.

"Sup sweetheart?"

Quick Notes - Hope you enjoyed! :) Thank you for reading! Reblogs are much appreciated! Maybe Part 2? idk.

[oneforthemunny]

made with love, my valentine |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: you recruit eddie's help to make valentines for your class.

contains: fluff. just lovey dovey, lovesick fluff. early in their relationship, but super sweet <3

“There?” 

Eddie grunted as lightly as he could, one hand holding the bouts of frilly, lace paper hearts, the other balancing the loaded staple gun that he should definitely not be holding so carelessly on a ladder. 

“Yes, that looks perfect.” You gave a quick nod from below, holding his ladder steady. 

Eddie caught a glimpse of the tiny smile you gave when your eyes met, beaming from the inside out the way you always did. His knees felt weak, heart skipping with an adrenaline rush of adoration and heat that poured out of his chest, crept all the way up to his cheeks. He hoped you couldn’t see, that his hair hid his blushing grin. 

“Perfect.” You grinned, stepping back when Eddie stepped down, work boots wedged into the old, creaky ladder. “That looks amazing. So much better than I could’ve done.”  

“I don’t think that’s true,” Eddie shook his head, looking around the fully decorated classroom. You’d gone all out. You always did, trying to make the holidays the very best for your kids. Decorating to the nines, even with the little supplies and budget you had. You were crafty, that was for sure, a talent that always left Eddie in complete and utter awe. 

“You did a helluva job without me. This place looks sick.” Eddie’s finger jammed against a paper heart that was dangling from the ceiling. 

“Sick is good right? Sick in a good way?” You giggled, light and airy. Eddie knew his heart was stopping. 

“Yeah, o-oh yeah, sorry, no, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like sick, bad. No, sick-sick means good. Sick in a good way, like a cool way, ya know? Or that’s what I meant. When I use it, it means good and cool, n-not ew sick as in ill-” Eddie’s cheeks flamed, stammering around fumbled words. The last thing he wanted was to insult you, he would never.

“I’m joking with you, Ed.” You grinned, bumping your hip playfully against his. “I’m glad you like it. It took me hours.” 

“Right, yeah,” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hours?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I had some of it from the years before, but most of the glue started coming undone, or they got all crinkled, so I had to start over.” You shook your head lightly. “My hands are completely torn apart. I have so many paper cuts.” You giggled, holding up your hands for Eddie to see. He had to fight the urge to hold them, intertwine your fingers in his like you had the weekend before. 

“Looks pretty gnarly, sweetheart.” Eddie sucked in a breath, pointer finger tracing over the cut on your knuckle, leaving you shuddering. “Should’ve asked me to help. Could’ve at least brought you some gloves to wear.” 

“It was fine. I did it during my planning period mostly.” Not a total lie. You had done most of it on your planning, and the other at home, until nearly two in the morning, when you were slumped over piles of shredded construction paper and glue sticks. 

“But, if you’re offering,” The sing-song in your voice had Eddie’s heart lurching with hope, trying to still himself, remain cool at your soft smile. “I do need to finish up making Valentine’s for the class.” 

You paused, giving him a tiny grin, lip tucked between your teeth. “And by finish, I mean I haven’t actually started.” Your lashes batted at him so sweetly, like you needed to sway him. Like he was on the fence of saying no, rejecting spending time with you? As if.   

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie tried to play it cool, shoving his hands in his utility pants pockets. “Whatever you need me for. I’ve finished for the night, so y’know… ‘M all yours.” 

“Well,” You hummed, neck craning to look at the clock. “If you’re done, I thought maybe we could go back to my place?” Eddie was sure he was going to pass out, head reeling at your words. 

“I just think that would be a little more comfy just to not… be here, ya know? I can order us a pizza and we can knock these out.” You paused for a moment, really scanning Eddie’s features. “Maybe you could stay the night if you want? If it gets too late.” 

“Yes,” Eddie blurted before his mind could rationalize him stopping, eyes wide and words dripping with eagerness. “I mean, yeah, that would be… great.”  

“Great,” You repeated, your own heart thumping with excitement that spilled all the way to your face, lips curling in a wide grin. “I just, um, let me grab a few things, and- You remember where it is, right?” 

How could he forget? Eddie had been beyond nervous, palms too sweaty every time he came to pick you up. The handful of dates you’d been on were slowly becoming more and more frequent. 

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie’s lips twitched, swallowing down his excitement, maybe his nerves. “I just gotta put this up and lock up, and I’ll meet you there?” 

“See you in a few.” The words squeezed out of your chest, clutching your planner close to your body, slinging your purse over your shoulder. 

“Oh, is pepperoni okay with you?” You stopped, turning the lock to your classroom, your voice echoing down the dim lit hallway towards Eddie. Damn, he had moved fast with that ladder, practically sprinted down the hall. 

“Perfect for me.” Eddie called back, curls bobbing when he nodded. He’d nearly flung the ladder into the small hole of a janitor’s closet, snatching his lunch pail and keys before sprinting to the front, locking up and sailing down the cement stairs at the front of the school. 

Every second that went by was a second too long, tires flying over the snow dusted roads that led to your small home. The porch light was on when he arrived, bright and warm and welcoming. 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, whether he should ring the bell or just walk in. You knew he was coming, what would be the harm in going in? Still, it felt rude just to barge right in. Just to walk in felt arrogant, and what if you were naked? What if you were naked? Eddie’s cheeks began to heat, squirming at the thought. 

“Hey,” The door opened before Eddie could decide, leaving him standing there, wide eyed and blinking in your presence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You giggled, leaning against the doorframe lightly. 

“I couldn’t remember if I left it unlocked or not, and then I saw you standing here, so…” You trailed off, a little unsure of what to say, what not to say. It was all still so new. 

“Yeah, s-sorry, I, uh, I was just trying to see if I-I left my wallet in the van.” Eddie stuttered out a lie, patting his pocket for emphasis, heart slightly dropping when he didn’t feel it there. Shit, did he leave it in the van? 

“No worries, um, come on in.” You stepped back, opening the door for him. 

Eddie immediately was wrapped in a warmth, a soft, sweet aroma that smelt entirely yours. He loved it, the few times he’d come over, every time it left him just as light and airy. 

“Thanks so much for coming to help me.” You hummed, watching Eddie carefully from your place in the door frame as he shed his winter jacket, hanging it on the hook. “I thought I was going to be up all night again trying to make these.” 

“Again?” Eddie lifted a brow, his tone teasing. “Sweetheart, you just call me whenever, alright? I’ll come over any time and help you out. Even if it’s the middle of the night.” 

Your giggle was music to his ears, heart bursting at your smile. “That’s sweet, thank you.” Your smile warmed over him, left him spinning with desire. “I just need to finish these. I have six done, I think?” 

Eddie followed you into your kitchen, stacks of construction paper laid out with scissors and hot glue guns, a list of names propped on the middle. “It was easier last year. I only had twenty-two kids, but with the zoning and all these new kids coming in…” You shook your head lightly, thirty-three kids listed on the attendance sheet. Eddie remembered Steve bitching about it at the beginning of the school year. He still wasn’t sure how either one of you handled it, but you both made it work, despite the district uncaring. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s… rough.” Eddie nodded, pulling out a seat. “You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yours for the night.” 

Your smile spread, sitting next to Eddie. You showed him how to cut the hearts out, hot glue the paper lace on the edges, then press the other heart on the back to hide it. Eddie made them, setting them to the side so you could address them. 

The better part of two hours was spent in your kitchen, giggling and chatting over pizza and beer, wiping your greasy fingers off on napkins so it didn’t stain the cards. You both wanted them to be pristine, perfect. 

“So, uh, what-” Eddie cleared his throat gently, trying to shake the rattle in his voice from his nerves. “What are you doin’ on Valentine’s Day?” 

He felt your eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. “A-Any big plans?” Eddie cringed at the tweaking crack in his voice. He felt like he was in junior high again, asking Lisa Caltrelli out to the Sweethearts Dance. He hoped you wouldn’t reject him like she did. 

“No,” Your voice squeaked in response, creasing the paper between your fingers from your tight grip. You don’t know why you were so nervous, I mean, Eddie and you had been out before. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much when he asked you, but still, you were filled with an excited thrill. 

“No, I-I didn’t really plan to do anything. I mean, I would like to, but I just… I haven’t made plans.” You winced at your babbled answer, anything but cool. 

There was a pause, one that left your heart dropping with fear, your hands shook when you cut out the heart on red construction paper. “Um, well, I-I was just wondering if, if you’re not busy- shit, well, I know you just said you’re not busy. I just- I was wondering if you’d want to maybe go and get dinner?” Eddie’s wide eyes met yours, rounded with complete and utter fear and hope, like a deer in headlights. 

“With me?” His mouth was dry, heart beating so fast he could feel it in his eyeballs, sweat starting to bead at his hairline.

You tried to swallow down your own excitement, heart soaring with adrenaline, biting back a wide grin and a squeal. “Yeah,” You nodded, lips curling and eyes shining. “Yeah, I would. I would love to go out with you again.” 

“Really?” Eddie blinked, the words falling from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, really? Uh, great, that sounds… great.” Eddie ducked his own head down, gluing the paper lace to the heart, hoping his curls hid his pink cheeks and dimpled grin. 

“I was thinking we could go to Dino’s- Do you like Italian food?” 

“Yeah, I do. Love Dino’s.” You nodded. 

“Great. Um, my buddy, Jeff is the manager there now, and they do this Valentine’s Day special. It’s- It’s not anything crazy, they just put like candles and rose petals and shit on the tables, but he said he could get us in.” Eddie’s knee bounced, buzzing with excitement. 

“That sounds amazing,” You tapped the pen against the table, lips twitching with a smile you tried to hide. “It’s a date.” 

Eddie laughed, grinning so wide you thought your heart might burst. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Is that enough time?” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll have to clean up after the Valentine’s Day party, but-” 

“-I’ll help you.” Eddie nodded eagerly. “I’ll swing by after I get done in the cafeteria. I’ll help you clean up.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly, ducking back to your craft. 

Eddie’s hands were clammy when he leaned in to kiss you later that night, at your doorway, under the glow of the street lamp outside. He was even more surprised when you wrapped your arms around him, pulled him closer and deeper into the kiss, one that left you both swooning and heads swirling with adoration. 

The next morning, Eddie was beyond pumped, eager for the day, knowing he had a date tonight. He nearly missed the small red heart that was waiting on his desk- a Valentine, from you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie. I can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

[doberbutts]

Recently Youtube's algorithm really wants me to watch Schindler's List and I never had so the other night I sat down and actually watched it.

Having a lot of thoughts about it but a major one I keep coming back to is how even an immensely and deeply flawed human being can go against "just following orders" and instead put in the work to actually help.

It may never be fully enough. It may never save as many as you'd hoped. But when you have a choice to either follow orders or save your fellow humans in front of you, I hope you choose the latter.

Schindler died in poverty. He was not a renown war hero nor was he at all famous or widely beloved. But he saw that he could help, even in some small way, and so he helped.

He was a Nazi who saw what the Nazis were doing to Jews and said no more. Enough. If I can even spare those under my charge, maybe a few extras, then at least I will have tried to do something about this.

I think a lot of people do not fancy this type of activism. It is messy, dangerous, and often completely thankless. Schindler survived as long as he did after the war due to those he saved helping him with donations. He was not popular in his hometown due to his association with Nazis, he was not popular in Germany, he was not popular in Argentina. His businesses all failed. His wife left him. A movie about his deeds was released several years after his death, where he would receive none of the benefits. He went to prison multiple times for simply refusing to hate Jews.

I think a lot of people like to think they're activists, but are sorely unprepared for doing this type of work, and then in truth become activists in name only. This is hard work. But without him, another thousand or so people would be on that death toll.

He took his position of extreme power- a Nazi owning a factory almost entirely operated by Jews, making oodles of money off that cheap slave labor- and said you know what? No. I'm not doing that. I can't save everyone, but as long as they are within my factory, you will not kill my workers. As long as I'm here you aren't harming one hair on the head of any Jew under my care. You're not sending or keeping them in Auschwitz. You're not randomly executing them for entertainment. They're people. You're not murdering them.

"Just following orders" they say. But they didn't have to. They could have helped. They could have did what he did, look around and say "what the fuck am I doing here", and stop. He did. They could have. They didn't.

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 4 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Not edited : 3.8k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

You've spent the past week working through Katsuki's watch. Only putting it down when handed a time restricted request for a support item fix. Testing the quirk removing feature on Mei and a few others around. Since you couldn't remove your own, at least you wouldn't realize until a week or so.

Once all the kinks were worked out, you placed it in a nice sleek black watch box. Tying it closed with a burnt orange ribbon. You were giving it to him as a gift, just like all the other watches you've given him in the past. This one just a lot more expensive and fully designed by you.

It was already Friday by the time the watch was done, completing two days before you said you would.

Friday's were also the days that Katsuki worked at his own agency a couple blocks away. So after getting a cab to his agency, you walked through the door. Instantly being recognized by the security team for the office and being allowed through with only a quick screening, just in case someone was pretending to be you. You smiled at the receptionist, giving a quick wave before you headed to the elevator.

After pushing in the button for the top floor, the floor that only held him and his closest heroes, you opened your phone to check the time. It was right before his lunch started, which meant he would likely be getting out of the showers. He always took a shower after first patrol and once getting home.

The task of looking at your phone made you think of making yourself a watch, maybe with a support item for yourself incase within. Break-ins for support items were getting a lot more common now days and you couldn't be safe enough. With nanotechnology you could probably make an upgraded suit to the one you've made in high school, that shared many similarities to Iron-man's.

Before you could ramble in your own brain about the idea anymore, you reached Katsuki's floor. Stepping out of the elevator and greeting his manger who was sitting just outside Katsuki's office in his own desk.

"How's your day so far, Tanaka?" you smiled at him.

He looked up at you, "I work with Dynamight," he said plainly and looked back down to his monitor. He reminded you of Shoto that way. Blunt and straight to the point.

You laughed lightly, "Right, he can be a lot." You looked around the office for a moment, "I'm assuming he is still in the showers."

"You'd be correct," his monotone voice would of made you feel stupid if you didn't know him. He's always like this, never changing his tone. He was always one steady mood, it's the main reason Katsuki chose him. Tanaka wouldn't get upset, but rather not take no as an answer. Which Katsuki hated but needed at the same time. It helped his press a lot.

You rocked on your heels for a moment, "Well, I'm going to wait in his office."

"Wait," he paused you, his face slightly paled. He looked stressed.

"What?"

"He told me not to let you in there without him," he answered, face back to normal without the threat of you going in the office.

Your brows furrowed, "Why?"

He shrugged, "Just made it clear to not let you in."

"Okay?" you stood confused on what to do. Kirishima wasn't in the office yet, and neither was Denki or Sero. It was the main reason Katsuki had lunch at this time. "Do you have anything I can help on then?"

He looked at you from over his glasses, "I suppose. Do you think he is more likely to do an interview with Heroes' Gossip or a fan signing at a Hero Expo next week?"

Katsuki hated both those things. Heroes Gossip was exactly that, heroes' gossip, and it got into the nitty gritty details. People who did well on that show were Heroes like Denki and Sero, ones with enough charm to by pass and person questions. Katsuki only went on once, and it was a train wreck, they brought up the details of his childhood with Deku and you. Asking how he felt about the idea of you and Izuku dating. It set him off.

On the other hand, he hated standing or sitting in one area for too long, especially signing things for fans all day long. It was hell on earth for him. He'd have to deal with fan girls trying to grab at him as well as older people criticizing his work.

"I think a Hero Expo might be better, as long as there isn't a hero he hates there and it isn't longer than three hours," you gave your feedback.

"You don't think he's over the last interview?" Tanaka rubbed at his eyes under his glasses.

You hummed, "He likely is, but that doesn't mean that it won't happen again. It'd be another PR nightmare."

"What is?" you looked towards the voice. Giving Katsuki a bright smile.

"Just you," you teased.

"Fuck off," he grumbled, walking past you and to his office door.

"Am I allowed in now?" you stepped alongside him.

Katsuki looked at his manger, giving him rare look of appreciation, and opened his door, "Yeah, Tanaka got food for a us a little bit ago. Should still be warm."

He opened the door for you, letting you walk in first and stepping in behind you, letting the door fall shut.

"What's up with the extra chair?" you pointed towards the chair that sat to the side that matched the one at his desk.

He walked towards the chair, grabbing in at rolling it to sit on the other side of the desk, "Yours, you always fuckin' steal mine."

You flushed at the gift. It was a open invitation into his office. It showed your place next to him. You ran your hand over the top of the chair, spinning it around to see the small details of your favorite color in the stitching. He custom ordered it.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, "You're the best." Finally, you take a seat and rolling it closer to his desk in order to eat. Setting your bag down next to you.

He flushed at the praise. "Tanaka got some of the food you likely from down the street," he pushed a takeout box near you. You instantly opened it, seeing it filled with your favorite order. It was a small sushi bar that you went to often, loving their rolls. Kirishima showed it to you after Fat Gum showed him.

You cracked open a pair of chopsticks that were left on top of the takeout box. Quickly looking to see that he was already digging in, obviously starving from work. "Busy day?" you asked picking up some food and eating a bite.

"Two bank robberies from one group. Pain in my ass," he grumbled, quickly scarfing down more food. After he physically couldn't fit more food in his mouth, he swallowed and drank some water before adding, "Got their asses though."

You nodded along, eating your food at a normal human pace.

"You do anything?" he put picked up another sushi roll in his chopsticks, dipping it in a spicy soy sauce.

The watch in you bag basically burned you with how quickly you remembered about it. Excited to finally give it to him. Before the look could wash over your face, you schooled your features. "Just normal work, Mei blew up some of her new project, so that was something." You were slightly surprised he hasn't brought up his watch to you recently. But you figured it was because his quirk calmed down a little, you haven't seen it act up since Tuesday.

"Isn't she always doing shit like that?" he asked, pointing his chopsticks at you.

"Yeah," you laughed. Looking down at his box you saw he only had two pieces left when he order two full rolls. "God damn vacuum cleaner," you laughed at him.

"Fuck off," Katsuki barked, "I was fucking workin' my ass off today."

"Still, god damn," you often teased him for how fast he eat compare to you. While he was on his last bites, you still had five to go. It wasn't that you were a slow eater, he was just a insane person.

He bit down on the last bites of food. Grumbling and crossing his arms. Proving whatever point he had.

Katsuki went on about his day as you finished up your food, going over how the chase went and what quirks the people had. It was the normal conversation of your lunches. He shared what he could about his job and you did the same.

Once you were done, he grabbed your take-out and threw away your trash. Harshly falling back into his chair, black with orange lining, matching yours.

You looked over his face, idly listening to him go own about his day as you admired him. He had a scar covering the right side of his face. Looking at it too long reminded you of what happened that day. The thought made you want to through up. Quickly, you pinched the fat of your thigh, reminding yourself of the present. You often went into thoughts like these. It was painful but the life of a pro heroes girlfriend.

Rather than dwell on his injury, you looked over the rest of him. His eyes were bright with a fire as he explained how he saved a kid from being buried in cement. You looked over the broad length of his chest, watching it rise with his breathing. Scanning down his arms till you saw his rough fingers drumming across the desk. All the small ways the proved he was alive.

"You good?"

The sudden question knocked you out of thought, you plastered on a smile, "Yeah."

His face scrunched up. before he could call bullshit you moved to reach for your bag.

"I actually brought you something too," you move your hand around your bag before you brought up the watch case. You placed it in the middle of the desk. His face was blank but his eyes were running over the box like crazy. You pushed it towards him when he didn't make a move for it, "Open it."

He glanced up at you, receiving a nod of encouragement, before he grabbed the box. Despite being a rough person, in attitude and everything else, he undid the box as carefully as possible. Sliding the ribbon off and opening the box slowly, as it would shatter.

His hands started shaking at the sight of it. In fear of dropping it, he rushed to place it back on the table. Frantically wiping his hands on his pants.

"Do you like it?" you questioned, worried from his reaction.

"How does it work?" he replied instead, picking it up and putting on his right hand.

Relieved that he liked it enough to immediately wear it, you leaned to point at the watch. "So if you twist this dial to the left one click, then to the right two clicks, and then back to the left for three click, you will have it unlock for identification, " you explained the detailed process. He wanted to make sure that no one else could unlock it and you made sure of it. Even you couldn't activate it once you set passwords in place. "Finally, see how it says 100% that's what your quirk is at right now, so turn it to zero and see how you feel," you sat back in your seat, watching him turn the dial.

He looked like a kid on Christmas as he spun it to 0%, his eyes flicked to you, "So I can try to use my quirk and it won't work?" You nodded.

With the dial at 0% he immediately felt the difference, the constant buzz of his quirk washing away, leaving just the buzz of your presence to warm him. He raised his hand outwards, still weary as he tried to set off his quirk, getting no spark or feeling of it at all. He tested a stronger explosion but received none.

"It fuckin' works," he smiled almost wolfish. You could see the ideas running though his brain at the lack of spark.

He played with the dial a little bit, seeing how the 20% and 40% suppressed his quirk. You glanced at the clock above his desk, seeing your lunch almost up. You'd have to leave soon if you wanted to stay on schedule. "Will this help your quirk training?" you asked, making sure he got what he needed.

"Huh?" he looked down at you from where he was standing and testing his quirk.

"You asked Z' about it for quirk training, that and your quirk's been weird," you filled in the gaps, lost as to how he didn't understand what you were talking about.

He let out a cough followed by a nervous laugh, "Yeah, should work great."

You shot him a look at his odd behavior, picking up your bag and standing to leave.

"What's your plans tonight," he fumbled with his words slightly.

"None?" you hiked the bag better unto your back, grabbing your phone so you could place an uber back to your agency. You didn't have your walking shoes on today. "I was just going to head home and read," you finished answering, "Why?" You quickly finished placing an uber before looking back up at him, confused once again.

His face flushed, " Ramen then? At out favorite spot," he stumbled to add on.

Your face softened. That was your main date spot, only used on highly celebrated dates or anniversaries. "Why there?"

"Just want to have a date with you," he mumbled, face now bright red.

"That happy about the watch? Kats you don't need to take me to dinner, I make you support gear all the time," you stepped closer to him, having been separated by his desk before he stepped around to you as well.

"You wanna go or not?" he huffed, fed up with being embarrassed.

"We don't need to-"

"Do you want to? Cause I want to," he cut you off, he crossed his arms as he leaned into his desk, you standing in front of him.

"Sure," you held back the tease, not wanting to set him off.

"Good, we'll leave home at seven," he pushed off from the desk, walking you out to the door.

You smiled at him, "See you then."

---

The ramen joint was fancy and hidden. Hardly anyone went there if they didn't want extreme privacy. It was something you and Katsuki quickly learned that you needed in your relationship. The public didn't fully know about your relationship, but they did know you two were close and childhood friends. So people speculated off that. So to avoid rumors, Katsuki and you went to hidden gem restaurants.

This ramen joint being a favorite, it was lit purely off candles or warm low lights. It was one of the only, if not the only, romantic restaurants that you two went to. Cozy lights with a dress code of formal.

So the two you walked up to the door, Katsuki offering a hand to help you up the stairs before the restaurant. While your heels and dress didn't make it too difficult, it was nice that it was offered. After grabbing his hand, you expected him to let go at the top of the stairs, but he led you through the restaurant, following the hostess and dragging you along.

Only when at the table he let go. Once the waiter got your drink orders Katsuki fumbled with his hands, "Thanks for the watch."

"Kats, it's nothing," you laughed off, "I've made you many support items, I don't know why you're so happy about this one." His face flushed at the call out. It really confused you, he seemed thrilled that he could turn off his quirk. It was honestly sad. Before you could ask anymore, the waiter gave you your sake and water before taking your food order. The service was great, but annoying for conversation currently.

"Just noticed the detail in this one," he shrugged, "fits me well and shit."

Now he was trying to play it cool? It was all weird.

"Are you sure you're telling me everything?" you accused.

"How was work this week? We spent lunch talkin' 'bout mine," he redirected the conversation.

You shot him another glare at his weird behavior, you'd figure him out eventually. For now you'd have a nice dinner with him.

---

Dinner was just that. Nothing much more. Service was great, so was the food, but conversation was horrible. He dodged any question towards himself, even if it was small. It was all about you and it felt wrong, in a strange way.

The two of you walked the short way back to your apartment. But with looking up at the sky, you regretted that decision. Small water droplets cover the sidewalk slowly. The rain painting it slowly. The streets were empty at only 9pm, you should of taken that as a sign of bad weather. Regardless, the two of you continued walking, him grabbing your hand once out of the restaurant. It was weird, but you let the thought fade at the chance to hold unto him for a little longer.

You swayed in your steps taking up the sidewalk as you stretched your arm to stay linked with Katsuki. He gave you a smile at your behavior. Making you flush and focus more heavily on your step. It reminded you of the romance movies the described this exact situation. A couple walking in the rain, late at night, streets empty as they confessed their love.

Katsuki tugged you towards him, spinning you into his hold, his hand letting go of your and grabbing onto your hips and you leaned into him. Your hands resting on his chest from surprise at the sudden change.

"You got that look on your face again," he smirked down at you. While used to his smile over the years, his smirk still made you weak in the knees.

"Huh?"

"You have a face you make when your thinking on your shitty romance movies," he pointed out.

"I do not," you pouted.

"Yeah it's like this," he scrunched him face to mimic yours horribly.

"Is not," you slapped his chest lightly, "I'd be surprised if you dated me while I made that face."

"Uh huh?" he teased, "cause it was spot on."

You rolled your eyes, face red from being in his hold.

"So what were you thinkin'?" he pushed, squeezing your hips slightly.

"Just all those movies with couples," you dodged until he squeezed again. "Fine, couples kissing in the rain, happy?"

His face flushed, matching the red hue on yours, before he looked up to avoided your stare. You were surprised he was holding you in general, but the fact he hasn't let go truly stunned you. Hugs between you two didn't last longer than a couple seconds. And this was a lot more romantic than a hug.

"Do you wanna?" he looked back down, his eyes tracing over your face between landing on your lips.

"Wh..what?" you stuttered. He looked back up to your eyes.

"Do you want to kiss?" he spelt out for you, face becoming impossibly redder.

"Yeah," you breathed out, looking down to his lips before both your eyes shot to look at each other. Making sure this was okay.

The tension was shooting through your bones. He hasn't offered to kiss since graduation, which was over a year ago.

He pulled his hand away from your waist and up to your face, wiping away the rain that fell on your cheek before he slowly leaned in. You eyes fluttered shut before you felt his lips hit yours. Instantly melting into the new feeling.

Every time before he was either freshly from the hospital or the two of you were excited and let it run you into a kiss that only lasted a moment before you were off running to friends and family during graduation.

Your knees caved slightly, letting you fall even deeper into the kiss, deeper into him, as you tilted your head. The kiss was just like him, explosive. It left you buzzing as he pulled away for a breath.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes before breathing out heavily, "I'm sorry we don't do that often enough."

Your once closed eyes shot up, you slightly pushed away from him, "What?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I just wish I haven't been holding that out of our relationship."

You pushed yourself out of his hold, stepping back, "Katsuki Bakugo."

"What?" he almost demanded.

"I told you that I was fine without physical touch. I've been fine without it. Yet the second you've found out, you've been weird," you pushed a finger into his chest, "Now your kissing me, saying sorry? How do you think that makes me feel?"

He shook his head, "I don't see the problem."

"Of course you don't," you basically lectured, "Our relationship has been steady. Sure it hasn't been typical, but it's been us. Yet the second someone mentions that I like touch, you've been all weird."

"I want to make you happy? Is that fuckin' horrible?" Katsuki huffed.

You scoff, "No, but you were already making me happy. Now you are doubting our relationship, not telling me about your quirk issues, and worst of all, pushing yourself when I didn't ask. If you aren't ready for things that's fine! If your never ready, that's also fine. I just want you Katsuki. I want the you that doesn't give two fucks about what anyone thinks."

His head hung, his hands coming up to rub at his face. "I don't know how to fuckin' do this shit," he mumbled.

You stepped closer to him, "Just stop worrying about every little thing. I'm with you, you don't have to win me again. Just do what you want and I'll tell you if I have an issue."

"And what if what I want is to kiss you more and other stupid shit," he muttered under his breath.

Your face flamed with the comment, "Well," you cleared you throat, "if that's what you want, then I'd be happy to. But only if it's what you actually want."

"Of fuckin' course it is, why wouldn't I want to kiss my damn girlfriend," his wolfish grin was back quicker than ever as you pulled you into him. Quickly getting over the little spat the two of you just had.

"I don't know, you haven't wanted to before," you shrugged in his hold.

"Oh I've wanted to," he protested.

"Then why haven't you?" you tilted your head.

"Reasons," he took your held tilt as an opening, slotting his lips against yours. You slapped at his shoulder for dodging the question but you quickly moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. He hugs you closer as he swayed the two of you in your kiss. Letting the rain soak the two of you to the bone without a second thought. Only worried about the one in front of you. Any worry dripping out of your soul just as the water dripped out of your clothes. Because even though he hated the rain, he loved you more.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

@sweetpandabiscuitrebel @drageonix24 @i-bitch-you-bitch @limitedstars @fairiesgloss @venusluvslove @albakugo @juicyfingers @thescarletwallflower @snxwflwr @xreiiss @sinyaaa @zoast32 @supersecretsamm @ivurie-xo @mushroomsneedystuff @kazuumii @keiva1000 @atashiboba @ofcqdesi @americasass1942 @kaboomkayla @ilovedenk-i @iamyoursonly @oddball08

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[greengoblinswifey]

Hii can you do one of Nicholas Chavez where your dating his brother.. you have been dating for 3 years but then one day you catch your boyfriends brother(Nicholas) in his room moaning y/ns name !🤭

warnings— infidelity, male masturbation, betrayal, slight voyeurism, daddy kink, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— love love love this, enjoy and lmk if you guys wanted to me on my NAC taglist <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It was a typical evening at your boyfriend's house. You were lounging in the living room, scrolling through your phone, while he was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. His brother, Nicholas, was nowhere to be seen—at least, not until you heard the faint sound of music coming from his room.

You had always found comfort in the quiet moments at their house, the familiarity of their home filling you with a sense of belonging. But tonight, there was something different about the atmosphere. As you listened to the muffled hum of the music, a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

You told yourself to relax, to enjoy the time you had with your boyfriend, but then it happened.

You heard it.

The faint sound of your name—mixed in with moans.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze. There was no mistaking it. The voice was unmistakably Nicholas’.

Your mind raced. Why was he saying your name like that? Was he talking to someone else? You stood up slowly, your feet carrying you to the door of his room without fully understanding why.

You pushed the door open just a crack.

And there he was.

Nicholas, sitting on the edge of his bed, his hand gliding along his hard, thick cock looking lost in the moment.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned again, his voice deep and thick with desire.

You felt a wave of shock wash over you, your breath catching in your throat. A part of you wanted to turn around and run out of there, but another part of you, a much darker part, couldn't pull yourself away.

You stood there frozen, the door still ajar, barely able to breathe. Nicholas hadn’t noticed you yet, too far gone, his eyes squeezed shut, his muscles on his sculpted body tense. Your name fell from his lips once more, and the sound of it made your pulse race.

“Y/N,” he moaned again, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You felt your stomach flip, guilt and confusion mixing with something darker, something you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before. This was wrong, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. You had to remind yourself that this was your boyfriend's brother.

A sudden noise from downstairs broke the trance. You snapped out of your thoughts, heart hammering in your chest. You quickly stepped back from the door, pulling it almost completely shut, but not fully. You couldn’t look away, though you knew you should.

It wasn’t until the soft shuffle of footsteps filled the hallway that Nicholas finally opened his eyes, realizing you were there.

For a moment, there was silence. His eyes locked onto yours, wide with shock and confusion. His breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he, too, was trying to process what had just happened.

“Y/N—” Nicholas’ voice was barely a whisper, filled with the weight of unspoken words. He didn’t move, his posture stiff.

You swallowed hard, the words barely forming in your mouth. “What—what the hell was that?”

His eyes darted away for a second, his face flushing a deep shade of red. He shifted on the bed after pulling up his sweats, clearly flustered. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

You took a step back, your heart racing, your mind swirling. “You didn’t mean for me to hear that?”

He stood up quickly. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet but urgent. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the pieces finally falling together. The tension, the moments when he’d get a little too close, the way his gaze lingered on you a little too long. You'd noticed it before, but you had never dared to think about it. You couldn’t have, not with your boyfriend, his brother—you never thought it would come to this.

“Nicholas,” you whispered, the confusion and anger giving way to something else, something dangerous. “I—this isn’t right. You’re my boyfriend’s brother. We’ve known each other for years.”

“I know. God, I know.” Nicholas stepped closer, his voice urgent now. “But I can’t help how I feel. I’ve tried. Every day, I’ve tried to push it away. But you, you’ve always been there. And I’ve thought about you in ways I shouldn’t. You saw it.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, and the air around you seemed to crackle with the tension between you both. “This is a mistake. This has to be a mistake.”

“I don’t want it to be,” he said, his voice a low rasp, stepping closer still. “I can’t just forget what I feel.”

You backed away, your breath quickening. “I don’t know what to say to you, Nicholas. This is insane. I’m with your brother. I love him.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you couldn’t let it falter. You couldn’t give in.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his eyes desperate now. “But I can’t pretend like this isn’t real. I can’t keep living with how much I fucking want you.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Every word, every breath between you felt like it could be the start of something you couldn’t take back. You could feel the pull between you, the temptation, the danger, and it was almost too much.

What the hell do you do now?

“I could treat you better, I could fuck you better—I haven’t heard your sweet moans at night in months Y/N.”

You didn’t know how to respond. The urge to run, to get out of that room, was almost overpowering. But something pulled you back toward him.

Nicholas’ words still hung in the air, sharp and heavy. You could barely breathe, your mind reeling. His voice echoed in your mind as if each word was a spark, igniting something deep inside you that you had worked so hard to suppress. You felt sick, guilty, confused. But there was something undeniable in his words, something that had taken root in your thoughts.

You shook your head, as if trying to rid yourself of the feeling. “Stop,” you whispered, taking a step back. “I can’t listen to this. This is wrong.”

Nicholas stood there, his eyes intense, unyielding. “You know I’m right. You know it’s not like it used to be with him. You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words suffocating you. The truth was, you had felt something slipping between you and your boyfriend lately—distance, disconnection, but hearing Nicholas articulate it, him of all people, felt like a slap to the face.

“I’m with your brother,” you said, your voice shaking, but firm. “I can’t do this. I’m not doing this with you.”

His expression softened, but only for a moment. His gaze flickered to the door. “You should think about it. Really think about it. Because you deserve more.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With one last glance at him, you turned and hurried out of the room, your heart racing, as you tried to force your thoughts to focus on anything else. Anything but what had just happened.

You found your boyfriend downstairs in the kitchen, humming as he prepared dinner, blissfully unaware of the storm you were carrying inside. The warmth of his smile, the moment, only made you feel worse.

You tried to push everything out of your mind as he approached you, his arm wrapping around your waist. His lips found the side of your neck, kissing it softly, and you felt your heart drop.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice low, concerned. “You’ve been up there for a while.”

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just uh just needed a minute. Everything’s fine.”

You felt his lips press against your neck again, and for a moment, you thought you might melt into the warmth of his embrace. You couldn’t think of how to explain what had just happened, and frankly, you weren’t sure you were ready to confront it.

He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a smile that made your stomach twist. “Good. You know I hate seeing you upset,” he said, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. “Come on, let’s sit down and eat.”

Later that night, after dinner, your boyfriend had suggested a casual movie night. “Hey, why don’t you watch something with us, Nick?” he called up to his brother, who had been silent since dinner. “It’ll be good to have all of us together for once.”

You felt a pit form in your stomach at the thought of spending more time with Nicholas, especially after everything that had happened earlier. But you didn’t have much choice. You couldn’t act suspicious. So, you sat down on the couch, trying to keep your distance.

Nicholas appeared in the doorway, hesitating for a moment before sitting down right next to you. He didn’t say a word, just settled in with his gaze lingering on you a little too long. You tried to focus on the TV, your eyes straight ahead, but you could feel his presence next to you—his every movement, every shift in his seat felt like an electric current, almost too much to bear.

He was so close now, just beside you. You could feel his warmth, his proximity making it difficult to concentrate. Every few seconds, your peripheral vision caught him glancing at you, his gaze sharp, searching.

You tried to ignore him. You tried to pretend he wasn’t there. But it was hard when he was right beside you, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Every now and then, you felt his leg brush against yours, sending a jolt of heat through you. It made you feel like you were betraying yourself with every second that passed.

Your boyfriend, oblivious to everything, wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. You leaned into him, trying to ground yourself in the comfort of his touch, but Nicholas’ presence was like a constant hum in your ear. Every time you shifted, you could feel his eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin.

At one point, you glanced toward him, just a fleeting moment and found his eyes already locked on you. He didn’t look away, not for a second. The intensity in his stare made your heart skip a beat, but you quickly averted your gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

Your boyfriend kissed your temple, pulling you closer into him, unaware of the silent tension building between you and Nicholas. “You okay?” he whispered softly into your ear, his voice a soothing contrast to the storm that was raging inside you.

“Yeah, just tired,” you muttered, your voice shaky, betraying the calm you were trying to hold on to.

Nicholas shifted beside you, just enough for you to feel it, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his attention on you. Every time you reached for the popcorn or adjusted yourself, his gaze followed, and you could feel it. It was torture. Every second felt like it stretched on for hours.

The movie played on, the dim light flickering across the room. Your boyfriend, wrapped in a cozy blanket beside you, had fallen into a deep sleep, his light snoring filling the otherwise quiet room. You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the discomfort creeping up your spine. Then, without warning, you felt a hand on your thigh. Your breath hitched, and you froze.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake your boyfriend.

Nicholas didn’t pull away. His fingers gently caressed your skin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Just hear me out,” he said, his voice low, “Just listen to what I have to say.”

You could feel the weight of his words, but you resisted. “I don’t want to hear it,” you replied, your throat tightening as you pulled your legs closer to you.

But he didn’t give up. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing your ear as he spoke. “I know you’re not satisfied,” he murmured, the words cutting through the tension in the room. “The fact that you’ve even considered this tells me everything I need to know. My brother isn’t satisfying you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to respond, even though your voice cracked. “I’m very happy with him,” you said, the words feeling hollow even to your own ears.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and almost mocking. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

You tried to push his words away, but his gaze was unrelenting. He was too close, his presence too overwhelming. “You’re sexually frustrated, aren’t you?” he continued, his voice so smooth it almost felt like a caress. “I could never do that to you. You deserve so much more. You’re beautiful, I’d treat you like a queen.”

You wanted to ignore him, wanted to focus on your boyfriend beside you, but he wasn’t done. “He’s been texting other girls, you know. And I would never do that to you. Not in a million years.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought. “H-he has?” The words left your lips before you could stop them, the vulnerability in your voice unmistakable.

Nicholas leaned in closer, his hand moving gently to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. His voice was soft, almost comforting, but you could hear the hint of something darker underneath. “Yes,” he said. “But I’m here now.”

You felt a wave of hurt wash over you. The truth of his words, the insinuation of betrayal, it all hit you harder than you expected. You wanted to cry, but Nicholas was there, his presence suffocating yet oddly comforting. “Don’t cry sweetheart,” he whispered, his tone soft yet possessive. “Daddy’s here.”

Your mind was spinning. You could feel the weight of the moment, the pressure of his words tugging at your resolve. Your heart was torn between the man beside you and the brother who had just shattered your world with a few whispered sentences.

“I won’t hurt you,” he murmured, his gaze intense. “I just want you to see that there’s more out there than what you have right now. You deserve someone who makes you feel alive again.”

You swallowed, your heart racing. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel the pull—Nicholas was captivating, his words hitting too close to home. But you couldn’t betray your boyfriend like this. Not now, not ever.

Then, in a sudden, heated moment, Nicholas leaned in closer. The smell of his cologne lingered in the air as he moved, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

“I just want to show you how good it can be,” he whispered. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Before you could answer, his lips brushed yours lightly, a soft, tentative kiss. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding against your chest.

The kiss wasn’t forceful. It was slow, almost gentle, as if he was testing the waters, gauging your response. You didn’t know how to react. Part of you wanted to pull away, but another part of you, one that you didn’t want to acknowledge, wanted to give in.

Nicholas pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, looking for a sign of something. You were still frozen, unsure of what to do next. Then, just as the quiet settled in, you heard your boyfriend shift beside you, a soft groan escaping his lips as he stirred from his deep sleep.

His hand moved on your thigh after the distraction, his touch light but deliberate. His fingers trailed higher and higher until they settled on your crotch with your shorts being the only thing separating him from your pussy. Every brush of his fingers rubbing your pussy through the fabric made your heart race, your mind spinning with the growing conflict inside you. You could hear your boyfriend, deep in sleep beside you, unaware that his brother was about to finger you.

“You’re frustrated, if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be letting me do this.”

You wanted to push him away, to shut him down, but his words lingered, threading through your thoughts. The way he said it, so sure of himself, made you question things you hadn’t before. Your lips parted to respond, to say that everything was fine, but when you spoke, your voice cracked.

“Let me make you feel good.” His fingers gently stroked the inside of your thigh, the movement so slow, so calculated, that it sent a shiver through you. A gasp left your lips before you pressed your lips together to be quiet as he ripped your shorts open. His fingers went to your clit, rubbing it and spreading the wetness you were shocked graced your pussy.

You tried to turn your attention to your boyfriend, who was still lost in sleep, but the pull of Nicholas’ presence was too strong. His words, his touch, were disorienting. He chuckled softly as you moaned, the sound warm and knowing. “You deserve more. You’re beautiful, and you should feel like it every single day. I could make you feel wanted, really wanted.” His thumb traced small, soothing circles on your clit, and you fought to keep your focus. “I could treat you better than he ever has.”

Your pussy fluttered at his words. There was something about the way he spoke, so certain, so confident. Two of his fingers slid pressed lightly into you, curling to meet your sweet spot. You didn’t pull away, despite everything in you screaming to stop. His fingers were moving steadily, the pressure of his touch made your pulse quicken.

“You deserve more than this,” he repeated, his voice almost a whisper now. “I would never let you feel neglected. I’ll always make you feel like a queen.”

You could feel his breath against your ear as he leaned in closer. You had to bite your lip to hold back the moans as he finger fucked you right beside your boyfriend, his brother.

Everything in you screamed that this was wrong, that you couldn’t betray your boyfriend like this. But Nicholas was there, his touch gentle and making you feel utter pleasure, and it was hard to fight it. You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, but at the same time, something else, your orgasm, was stirring inside you.

His thumb moved to your clit as his fingers continued pumping inside you and your breath caught in your throat. “Don’t fight it,” he murmured. “I can make you feel better than he ever could. You don’t have to be stuck.”

You wanted to tell him to stop, to push him away, but all you could do was sit there, caught between the two of them—your boyfriend, asleep beside you, and Nicholas who was working his fingers inside you even faster now. You hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t hear the loud squelching your pussy was making.

As your orgasm built, you tried to move away, but Nicholas’ fingers remained thrusting inside you. “I’m here now,” he said softly. “Let me be the one to make you cum.”

The words wrapped around you, and for a moment, you were torn between guilt and something else, something you didn’t know how to define. All you could do was sit there, fighting the emotions inside you as his fingers repeatedly thrusted against your g spot, a reminder of the choices you didn’t want to face.

“Please,” you whispered, clutching onto his shoulder as you felt yourself nearing the edge.

“Please what? Is it what I think it is? Do you wanna cum for daddy?” Nicholas whispered back.

You didn’t want to admit you were about to betray your boyfriend in the worst way possible, even if you were too far gone and tethering on the edge.

“If you want me to make you cum, you’re gonna have to beg me, say please daddy, please let me cum,” Nicholas whispered, darkly.

Maybe it was the fact that your boyfriend had been neglecting your needs. At least—that’s what you told yourself to feel better about what you were about to do.

“P-please daddy, please let me cum, I need it so bad,” you gasped into his ear, softly.

Nicholas smirked cockily, his movements more precise and he hummed in content feeling your wet pussy clench and gush around his fingers. He finger fucked you through your high, the sound of squelching filling the living room from how wet you were.

“That’s it, you’re such a good girl, you did so well,” he cooed before bringing his fingers to his mouth to clean your juices.

Nicholas held you close, his hands supporting you effortlessly as he lifted you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, the proximity overwhelming in the best and worst way. You could feel his heartbeat through his muscular chest, steady and firm, yet your own pulse was erratic, betraying the conflict in your mind.

His eyes never left yours, searching for something in you that mirrored what he was feeling. He was so close, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, the question lingering in the air. “I’ll stop right now, but I need you to tell me.”

You felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of desire and guilt. You couldn’t speak for a moment, your heart pounding, a knot forming in your throat. Everything inside you wanted to pull away, but everything else, the weight of his words, the pull between you two, made it impossible.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his hand resting lightly on your back, coaxing you to face him. He was patient, letting you breathe, giving you the space to process. But you could barely think.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his voice still steady but with an undercurrent of something else. “I need to hear you say it. Say you want this.”

You hesitated, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, a mix of nerves and longing twisting in your chest. He was right there, his gaze intense but gentle, and it was hard to fight the warmth in your stomach and the fluttering of your pussy.

You buried your face in his neck, too shy to meet his gaze. The words you needed to say felt so foreign, so risky, but you knew he wanted to hear them.

He chuckled softly, the sound almost a caress. “Baby, look at me,” he repeated, this time firmer, the hint of command in his tone. “Don’t hide from me, not now. Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitched, and you slowly pulled away, your eyes meeting his. Your heart raced in your chest as you finally let the words slip out, barely above a whisper.

“I want this, I want you,” you murmured, your voice faltering slightly.

Nicholas’ lips curled into a soft smile, his hand lifting to gently brush your cheek. “Good girl,” he said, the approval in his voice warm, like he’d just won something precious. “You won’t regret this.”

He held you even tighter, his grip supportive as he began to carry you, your heart racing with every step. You felt the overwhelming mix of emotions, of everything swirling in your head—guilt, desire, hesitation, but also something you hadn’t expected, trust.

His voice was soft as he walked, his pace steady as he made his way upstairs. “I’ll make you feel like the queen you are,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “No more doubts. You deserve to be treated the way you’ve always wanted.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You wanted to protest, wanted to pull away, but your body didn’t listen. It was as though you were pulled into this moment, caught in the push and pull of your emotions.

He set you down gently on his bed. his hands lingering on your waist, looking at you with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said quietly. “I’m here now. And I’ll never let you down like he has.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind too fogged with everything to process. But there, in that moment, you made a decision, you would trust him, even if you weren’t sure of what it all meant. All you could do was nod.

The atmosphere in the room was thick, heavy with what lingered between you and your boyfriend’s brother. Every brush of his hand removing your clothes, every tender kiss, seemed to deepen the connection. His fingers gently grazed the curve of your waist, pulling you even closer, his chest pressing against yours as the kiss deepened.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your chest, thumping against the walls of your ribcage like it wanted to escape. You couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to. He removed his clothes revealing his chiseled body that made your pussy throb.

Nicholas’ lips barely left yours as he moved, his body shifting to position you under him and his cock against your wet pussy. He was careful, mindful, his hands tender but firm, never rushing. His lips broke from yours only for a moment, breathing heavily against your skin. “We need to be quiet,” he whispered, his voice rough, strained with desire. “I don’t want him to hear us.”

You nodded, your body already reacting to him, but you swallowed the urge to let out a noise, to say something, anything. The weight of the moment was almost too much.

His hand slid gently up your back pulling you against him as his raw cock pushed inside you, and you bit your lip to hold in a soft gasp. Nicholas, ever so perceptive, caught the small tremor in your body and looked down at you with an almost amused expression. “You’re so beautiful when you’re trying to keep quiet,” he murmured, his voice soft, full of admiration.

You felt warmth rise in your cheeks at the compliment, and you knew you couldn’t hold back much longer. He wasn’t letting you. He was pulling you into him, his cock working slowly, carefully, but every thrust seemed to melt away the last bit of resistance you had.

“I want you to feel good, sweetheart,” Nicholas whispered again, his voice barely audible. “I want to see you lose control, baby. Let me take care of you.”

His words were like a spark, igniting a fire deep within you. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep quiet, your breaths already coming faster as his cock pounded into you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he leaned down to kiss your neck.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement calculated. But even in the midst of his tenderness, you felt your orgasm building. You tried to hold it in, tried to keep the moans from slipping out, but the way Nicholas fucked you, the way his cock and lips made you feel, made it almost impossible.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I know it feels good, baby, but we have to be quiet, okay?”

You nodded, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you tried to focus, tried to control the way your body reacted. The struggle to remain silent only added to the intensity of the moment. His lips trailed down to your tits, his tongue darting out to lick your brown nipples. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered against your skin. “You’re so strong, baby. So beautiful. I can feel how much you need this.”

His words were like honey, sweet and comforting, but they made your heart race even faster. You knew you couldn’t hold back much longer. The intimacy, the quiet tension, was too much.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of his cock and the sound of your own shallow breaths. “I don’t know if I can hold back,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed you again, this time on your lips. “It’s okay. Cum for daddy. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Each touch felt more intimate than the last, each moment more precious as he pounded into you steadily, his eyes locked on yours. In that moment, you surrendered—not just allowing your orgasm to take you over and soak his cock but to the emotions that were rising to the surface.

Nicholas’ orgasm followed soon after, his hot load filling you to the brim and making you bite down on his shoulder as he whispered dirty things in your ear.

As the room settled into a quiet, almost still air, Nicholas' cock remained inside you. His gaze never wavered from yours, intense and searching, as if trying to read every thought in your eyes.

“You deserve so much more than you realize,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. His words seemed to linger in the air, pressing against your thoughts, making you feel exposed, vulnerable.

You swallowed, trying to compose yourself, but the intensity of the moment, the depth of his words, made it hard to focus. “Nicholas,” you murmured, your voice trembling just slightly as you tried to find the right words.

He pulled out and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. “Shh,” he soothed. “I need you to hear me. I’m here for you, I’m not like him. I’ll treat you the way you deserve. You don’t need to settle for anything less.”

His words caught you off guard. Not like him—his brother. The one you’d been with for so long, who you thought you knew. It was all so confusing, yet you couldn’t help but feel something stir—something both thrilling and terrifying.

“I’m not like him,” Nicholas repeated softly, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll show you what it means to be treated right. You deserve everything, and I’m going to make sure you see that.”

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t deny the mix of emotions that bubbled up inside of you—the desire to believe him, the frustration with your own confusion, the need to protect your heart. You tried to look away, but his presence was too overwhelming, his gaze too penetrating.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice soft, your hands nervously twisting.

“Say you’ll give me a chance,” he urged, his voice steady but coaxing, his hand sliding down to rest gently on your thigh. “I’m not going to pressure you,” he said softly, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. “But just know that when you’re ready, I’ll be here. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you know that, every single day.”

You shifted slightly, your mind spinning with a mix of emotions.“I- I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” you whispered, almost to yourself, but Nicholas leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“You don’t have to be, baby,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “But just know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nicholas held your gaze for a few more moments, before gently lifting you up, his hand resting protectively around your waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, a promise you weren’t sure you were ready to hear, but you couldn’t help but feel a part of you believe it.

As he helped you stand, he turned to you. “Now go lay beside him with my cum dripping out of that tight fucking pussy.”

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ TREAT YOU BETTER!

♰ featuring: sae itoshi + rin itoshi (mentioned) [blue lock]

♰ note: this one is a DOOSY and i'm not even kidding when i say it took me 9 hours and 45 minutes to complete this, over the course of two days of course. However, as my first time ever writing on tumblr, i decided to go all out! that being said, it would mean a lot to me if you would support this work by reading, liking, and reblogging!

sypnosis: why be with his lukewarm little brother when you could be with him instead? wc: 6.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. sae is mean. jealous!sae. bully!sae. rin is 19. sae is 21. CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut shaming. groping. implied size kink. minor angst. hair pulling. ONE face slap. pussy slapping.꒷꒦ view the second part here: part two.

Coming home for the holidays, birthdays, or other special occasions is somewhat of a family tradition that enables people to slow down and focus on spending quality time with loved ones. These kinds of celebrations give families that may otherwise be estranged from one another due to work or geography the chance to reunite and enjoy each other's company. And this reasoning was no different in the Itoshi household. What was the occasion for this month’s gathering? Well, it was Mama Itoshi’s birthday, of course!

You see, you have known Rin and Sae Itoshi since you were all very young. Your mothers were best friends, and by default, that meant that you three would become close as well.

Growing up with the Itoshi brothers, on the other hand, was . . . interesting, to say the least. Where Rin found your presence to be refreshing, Sae found you to be a nuisance. You didn’t care for football; you got in the way of his practice; and you were a girl. He always thought you were too weak to play with, and he didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known to you. Pulling your hair until you screamed, pushing you around when you weren’t even in his way, and calling you mean names until your little E/C eyes welded up with fat tears were just some of the things he would do to torment you. Had it not been for little Rinnie stepping in and protecting you from his brother’s outright bullying, Sae most likely would’ve continued until you cried to your mom about how mean Sae-chan was to you. But you would never do that. Your little crush on him would never allow you to get him into trouble.

Nii-chan! Don’t be too mean to Y/N. You’ll make her inner crybaby come out!

When Sae was especially cruel to you, Rin was always there to lift your spirits. He would tell you not to worry about his "meanie Nii-chan," take your hand and wipe your tears and snotty face, and lead you up to his room where you two could watch movies and play action figures away from his brother's taunts. Even if he could not take you away right away, for instance, if you three were at the park, he would always come and ride the swings or the big slides with you just to make you happy. Despite Sae’s every protest about how you were nothing more than a distraction to him, Rin, and football, you knew that your friendship was sincere and unbreakable.

As you three went through the ups and downs of childhood, you also weathered the storms of adolescence together. Sae left for Madrid, leaving you, Rin, and your previous feelings for his older brother behind to navigate the social awkwardness of junior high and share in each other's accomplishments while he was with his football team and you were at your respective clubs. Your friendship was a source of strength during those formative years, providing solace and understanding when the world seemed confusing.

As you two approached your high school years, something began to change. Accidental touches felt more like fleeting sparks, while innocent glances became lingering stares. Neither of you fully comprehended your newfound feelings, tiptoeing around the unsaid emotions that seemed to glimmer between the two of you until the day Rin asked you to be his just before entering Blue Lock. Now, for the past three years, you have been a happy couple, embarking on the dreaded hell of adulthood and the next chapter of your lives hand-in-hand.

Back in the present, the two of you were glad that Rin finally had some downtime from soccer—well . . . more so you than him. Even after the events of Blue Lock, he and Sae remained rivals, seizing any opportunity they could to humiliate each other on the field. That being said, Rin was almost always in the gym, meditating, doing yoga, or practicing his skills to pass the time. It was nice to be able to spend time together without the stress of his next upcoming game or press conference.

Because it was his mother's birthday weekend and all, she would, of course, invite her boys to come to stay with her and their father for the occasion, which included you too since you were Rin’s girlfriend. However, in the few days that you and Rin have already been at his childhood home, Sae had yet to arrive, and no one had heard from him since he texted his mother that he was on his way to the airport to depart. Regardless, the family was busy finalizing plans for their mother's big day. Mr. Itoshi was at the bakery finalizing the details for his wife's cake, Mrs. Itoshi was out for brunch with your mother, and Rin had gone for an afternoon jog because "staying cooped up all day will turn him into a lukewarm lard ass," in his words. As for you? You had just begun to rise, completing some housework in one of Rin’s old jerseys and washing the dishes on which you and Rin had just eaten a delicious breakfast.

After completing your tasks, you made your way back up the lavish stairs of their home with every intention of going back into Rin’s childhood room that you two were sharing for the weekend when you froze. Your gaze traveled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the closed door whose presence loomed in the distance—Sae’s room.

Memories from your childhood flashed back to you, of you watching him and Rin play all too violent and scary zombie video games, rewatching his matches, and, most begrudgingly, the numerous times he nudged your head with his foot and tousled your perfectly styled hair just to get a rise out of you.

Cringing internally at the past memories, you took a further step in the direction of Rin's room before hesitating once more.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside Sae’s room, would it?

Despite your better judgment, you shuffled over the closed door and paused with your slender digits loosely encircling the handle. Your stomach churned and your heart thumped in your chest as your inner voice warned you not to enter another person's private space without their consent. But hold on—why were you getting anxious? Who was going to catch you when no one was at home? Turning the knob gently, the heavy oak door would give way with the tiniest of creaks, revealing a rather uninteresting-looking room. But given that Sae had rarely if ever, been home since junior high, it only made sense for it to be so plain. Aside from the plethora of trophies, medals, certificates, and framed photos that lined his dresser, what made it even more amusing was that those were only the leftovers from what could not fit in his trophy case beside his wooden dresser, which housed some of his youth team jerseys and junior trinkets.

You crept further into the cold room, wrapping your arms around yourself, and shuffled over to the plethora of awards from Sae's tireless efforts. As much as you weren’t fond of him, you had to admit that it was beyond admirable that a child was able to accomplish so much in so little time. He possessed a natural talent that professionals would kill for and others were envious of. Even though you were never interested in the sport, you envied him for being so naturally gifted at something he was passionate about.

“Some ‘monster genius’, huh?” You scoffed to yourself as your gaze fell on the last photo of Sae and Rin playing on the same team together before their relationship fell apart. Oh, how you miss those good old days of your youth.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Coming from behind you, an all too familiar voice startled you out of your reverie. Turning around, your wide eyes came to rest on Sae's form, which was motionless in the doorway, his stoic visage forever unamused, and his overnight shoulder bag resting by his feet.

When did he come in?

More notably, he’s . . . changed from the last time you’ve seen him since the U-20 vs. Blue Lock game three years ago. He was a bit taller, probably around 6’2” now. Because he was wearing a long-sleeved white compression shirt and gray sweatpants, you were able to see that his muscles were more defined than before, with every ridge and curve pronounced more vividly. His maroon locks had grown a bit longer, with his fringes now reaching slightly beyond his chiseled, clenched jaw, though his bangs remained forever lopsided and flipped back. And his turquoise eyes—had they gotten even sharper since the last time you'd seen them? The way they were glowering down at you, it was almost as though they were piercing right through your very soul.

“You deaf or something, you half-brained moron?”

Your eyes rolled exasperatedly into the back of your head as he rudely interrupted your thoughts. Only ten seconds after you reconnected, here he was spewing insults your way.

“Nice to see you too, Sae.” You grumbled sarcastically, internally dreading what this weekend would hold in store for the both of you.

In response, he hummed, remaining motionless in the doorway as his teal eyes bore into you with something unknown. The truth is, while you were distracted by his physical appearance, he was ogling you in the same manner. You had grown since the last time he’d seen you when you were back in high school. Your once innocent eyes now had a glint in them that could only be described as nubile; your once round cheeks had slimmed a bit to fit your maturing features; and your body . . . Damn, have you really grown over the years. You had developed a more feminine frame, with fuller thighs, widened hips, larger breasts, and a more prominent ass. You had developed into a truly breathtaking young woman, despite how much he hated to admit it.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show at all.” You sighed, lazily checking your nails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I live here.” His voice was deadpan and monotone, yet it held an underlying hint of irritation. “All these years have passed since grade school, and you’re still as braindead as when you were a child.”

“And you’re just as much of an asshole as you used to be.”

You resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under your skin, as you dropped your arms to your sides. When you made this motion, his brows would furrow, and he would cast a scrutinizing glare at your choice of clothing.

Talking to him was futile, and you did not want to be in this room any longer than necessary now that he was there. “Good to have you home, genius.” You spat sarcastically, attempting to push past him to exit the room, when all of a sudden his large hand would seize your bicep, halting your steps.

Your head snapped to him, your gaze a mixture of frustration and confusion as your lips parted to shout a rebuttal his way; however, upon seeing the blazing fire that had ignited in his eyes, you hesitated. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, like two fiery coals burning fiercely within his sockets. The intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down your spine, making you acutely aware of the gravity of his sudden wrath. His jaw clenched tightly, showing the strain of controlling his rage, and his brows furrowed, forming a menacing V-shape above his oculars.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He seethed through clenched teeth, his voice deep and full of poorly contained malice.

You blinked. Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him, beyond perplexed. He had caught you so off guard that even you had to check what you were wearing to make sure you were not wearing anything objectionable. Nothing worth offending—fuzzy black pajama shorts that hugged your plush thighs, plain slippers, Rin's worn-out football jersey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you coy little slut.”

That silenced you effectively. Your eyes enlarged—almost lamblike—and your pretty lips drew in a subtle gasp. Any previous spark that had been ignited within you had quickly diminished, choosing silence over tossing more gasoline onto Sae’s roaring flames.

It appeared as though his entire being was directing his wrath into his single, piercing gaze as every muscle in his face tightened with each passing second. His lips, which are typically flat or curved into an unamused frown, were now deep-set, corners tugging into an awful scowl.

“Why are you wearing that lukewarm loser’s jersey?” When you should be wearing mine?

Now it was your turn to be infuriated as he insulted your boyfriend—his brother—the same person he had thrown out like garbage all those years earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could hear your blood pumping in your ears.

“So I’m not allowed to wear my own boyfriend’s jersey now, fuckface?” His gaze faltered. “You going to call me names for that too, Sae? Pull my hair? Spit in my face? Huh?”

“*What did you just say?”

“I said are you going to—”

“No, you cow-titted bimbo. The first thing you said.” He leaned in closer to your face, his eyes owlish and unblinking since you opened your mouth. You could smell his minty breath from the gum he had been chewing wafting into your face, “Say it again.”

“I’m not allowed to wear my boyfriend’s jersey?” You repeated, confusion etching your tone.

“That.” He snarled, his voice elated in a sick way, as though he had just found out the answer to some legendary riddle.

The hand that had been gripping your bicep now violently jerked you to the side, shoving you into his door. Before you had time to react, he crowded your personal space as his forearm pressed against the wood above your head, allowing you to smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. “When did that happen?”

The initial fire that fueled his rage now transformed into a different kind of heat, a simmering and bitter envy that gnawed at his insides. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions - on the one hand, he was somewhat happy that his blockhead of a brother managed to get a girlfriend, but on the other hand, it was you. The same girl that he had been pining over since you were first introduced to him all those years ago. The same girl that he thought was prettiest when she pouted at him with fat tears in her eyes and pleaded with him to be nicer to her. The same girl that consumed his thoughts 24/7. The same girl that he jerked his cock to at night after seeing how her fat tits in that all too small jersey bounced every time she cheered for his brother at that stupid game against Blue Lock. The same girl that, on all of those lonely nights overseas, he wished that, instead of fucking his fist, he was pummeling himself deep in your sopping wet cunt. The same girl that he was about to ruin before his brother got home from his whereabouts.

“Before Blue Lock . . .” Your voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid of awakening a savage beast.

Three years. Three fucking years, and no one told him?! Not his mother, not his father, not Rin, not your stupid little social media (that he may or may not have been stalking) where you posted pictures of cats, candid photos of your friends, or whatever the fuck you got at your local coffee shop that day—not even you.

His once-obvious fury and visceral expression subsided, simmering beneath the surface in a contained inferno that burned with a ferocity few could fathom. Despite the turmoil raging inside him, he remained eerily calm, his stoic facade masking the storm within.

His demeanor exuded a cold, steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine and, quite frankly, took your breath away. There was an ominous sense of stillness in his presence, as if the air itself dared not disturb the calmness he projected.

“. . . Do you love him?” He spoke in hushed tones, each word enunciated with precision and purpose. There was no need for loud outbursts; the intensity of his calmness alone was enough to make you cower beneath him.

You were dumbfounded by his question, powerless to respond, and yet the longer you remained silent, the more you could see the cracks in his facade begin to scorch through his surface.

“D-Don’t be stupid, Sae. Of course I do, he’s my—”

You would never be able to finish your statement quick enough before his hands were on you, meaty palms digging into your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp as he grabbed a visceral hold onto your roots. The searing pain and astonishment coursing through your frame had you shrieking—in what? You didn’t know. Fear? Agony? Guilt?

Using his grip on you as a lead, he would tug you forcefully out of your slippers and down the hall to somewhere unknown. He ignored your screams as the weight atop your head forced your sight to the ground, your manicured nails digging into his wrist and clawing in an attempt to be freed.

“S-Sae, I-I’m sorry! Please, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

He said nothing, his heavy and deliberate footsteps speaking for him before he paused a short distance later. He threw you forward carelessly with surprising strength, causing you to land painfully on the wooden floors in front of you, barely having time to brace yourself with your palms. You had no time to catch your breath, though, as he shuffled over to you with fast-paced footsteps. Looking up fretfully, you would see Sae towering over you, taking notice that you were now on the floor of Rin’s room just before his bed.

“Sae—”

“Sae! Sae! Don’t be stupid; I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He openly mocked you, his lip curled into the faintest of sneers as he glowered down at you in hatred. Although even you could see that there was a bit of hurt behind his cruel teal eyes, “All you do is flap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours, never knowin’ when to shut your stupid little trap.”

He relished in the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes grew glassy, the same way they used to all those years ago.

“Still a little crybaby too, I see. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be sorry soon enough for leading me on all this time.” He grumbled, lunging for you again.

He snagged at your roots again, drawing a sob from your lips as he mercilessly dragged you to your feet. Releasing his grip on your hair, he instead chose to grab your jaw harshly in his palm, using his thumb and forefinger to squish your cheeks and pucker your lips so that he may smash his lips against your own. It was messy, sloppy, and full of passion and rage on Sae’s end. He smeared your gloss, claimed your brims, and forced his tongue into your pretty, pliant mouth, all with the intention of claiming you and your maw for his own—but you would never let him.

You belong to Rin! You were loyal to him! So then, why do Sae’s lips feel so damn good against your own right now? This was wrong. So, so wrong, and yet, why did you want more of him?

Your mind was cloudy. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating you. Your dainty fists beat at his beefy chest and shoulders, trying to get him to get off of you, but to no avail. Instead, he seized both of your wrists in the grasp of his other hand and squeezed painfully in a warning, forcing you to whine against his lips—a delightful sound that went straight to his hardening bulge that he shamelessly pressed against you, grinding sinfully against your hips.

When he finally pulled away from you, you clearly appeared dazed. Your eyes were half-lidded and glassy, yet you were silently pleading for him to give you more. Your plump lips had swollen from his being pressed so forcefully against your own, and a singular strand of saliva still connected your lips to his own—one which he would sinfully lick away with a salacious swipe of his tongue.

The hand he used to grab your face gently shook your head back and forth, his sadistic turquoise hues savoring your already fucked-out expression. “There’s the greedy bitch I know and love. Finally decided to show yourself, huh? What? You want more, hm? What about your little boyfriend, princess?”

“R-Rin . . . I love, Ri—” You were cut off when Sae’s expression flared, his hand releasing your face for naught but seconds before connecting with your cheek in a hard slap. You squealed from the impact, your head whipping to the side in shock, but you could not help but feel strangely aroused by the contact. He grabbed your cheeks in his palm once more and tightened his hold on your face, bringing you closer to him until you were nose to nose.

“Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” He snarled as he cut his eyes at you. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me after all these years, like you wanted me? Or that I haven’t overheard your stupid little conversations about how dreamy you think I am to your friends, huh? Or how about now, when you swear up and down that you love my loser little brother, when here you are already going stupid on me when I’ve barely even touched you?”

You clenched your eyes shut as hot, guilty tears rushed behind your lids. He’s right. You've wanted him—always have—but it was too late now. You were with Rin, and he was the love of your life. You could not possibly change that, could you?

“Just say it, Y/N.” He chided, his voice softer than it was before, yet it still held it’s cold, irritated undertone. “Say you want me, and I’ll make you feel better than that lukewarm little shit ever has.” He released your face and smoothed his thick digits over the top of your head, stopping only when he could rest his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him. Your gaze focused on him once more.

“ . . . I want you, Sae. B-But Rin . . . ”

Sae hushed you again, pressing his lips against yours. How badly he wanted that name to never again be uttered by your lovely tongue. When Sae pulled away again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll be quick, okay?” A lie. He was going to take his time fucking his brother’s name out of your memory. “He’ll never suspect a thing.”

Your apprehension was palpable, but ultimately you would succumb to sin and let desire and greed rule over logic and reason. You nodded, giving him the nonverbal go-ahead to stomp on the accelerator and never let up.

“Good girl.” He praised you, both hands abandoning your face to now grip at the collar of your shirt. In one swift motion, he ripped Rin’s jersey clean off of you from down the middle. “About time we got that shit off of you. The sight of it was makin’ me sick.” He spat as he tossed the tattered fabric over his shoulder.

You were not wearing a bra, so the violent motion had your breasts bouncing free after being momentarily released from their confines, allowing them to slap softly against the flesh of your rib cage—much to Sae’s viewing pleasure. You grew sheepish as he seemed to freeze, staring so brazenly at your bare breasts that you began to feel a bit self-conscious. Was something wrong? Did he not like them? Was he expecting more? Less?

In reality, the answer was none of the above. The midfielder swore under his breath as he shoved you back onto Rin's cozy comforter. He hastily climbed on top of you and used his body weight to pin you against the bed as his lustful hands began to grope and knead at your supple flesh, eliciting precious mewls with each delightful squeeze. His lips would latch onto one of your breasts as he dipped his head downward; the thumb and forefinger of his free hand would play with the other, teasing your nipples. His sharp teeth bit greedily over the delicate areola as his tongue flicked and laved over the hardening buds. The stimulation only served to heighten your arousal, as evidenced by the way you wailed his name like a sweet song meant only for his ears and how your thighs squeezed together from your excitement drooling from your folds.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sae, who was busy alternating between pleasuring both of your breasts and growling under his breath, “Lewd fuckin’ body. S’all mine . . .” When he pulled away, there were visible marks left in his wake—light red splotches and indentations of hungry teeth imprinted on your skin.

He reached for the hem of his compression shirt and lifted it above his head, tossing it off to the side as he sat above you, staring lustfully down at you. He would manhandle you further after sliding off of your body. He pulled your shorts down in one motion, grabbed your thick thighs by the backs of your knees, and pushed them up towards your breasts. When he did, he couldn’t help but whistle, admiring how your puffy folds clung together and your inner thighs remained sticky from your translucent arousal.

“Has he ever made you wet like this?” Sae inquired, leering at you from between your thighs like a hungry lion with it’s eyes set predatorily on a helpless gazelle, to which your gaze would quickly avert. You and Rin had such a strong emotional bond that you never felt the need for frequent sex between you two. There were a few times, though, when Rin would fuck you after a winning game in a way that made you see stars, but those were always very far apart.

Your silence was all Sae needed for his answer. He crept back up onto you, chuckling sardonically as he held your thigh up with one hand, using his body to keep your other spread apart. He wanted to see all of your pretty expressions up close and personal when he ravished you. Swiping two of his fingers between your folds, the sudden motion caused your hips to jerk into his touch and you to keen with need.

Slowly, he inserted a single digit inside of you, hissing at how your walls selfishly gripped his fingers and eagerly tried to devour more of him. “Loosen up, will you, greedy slut?” He slapped your thigh with his other hand as your back arched with pleasure. “This tight pussy will never be able to take my cock at this rate.”

You tried to loosen up, you really did, but there was something so delicious—so tantilizing—about his thick, calloused fingers caressing your velvety walls that made you crave more of him. He continued to thrust his single digit inside of you, his teal oculars peering into your own with such intensity that it forced you to look away.

“Stop that.” His hand that grabbed the back of your knee slithered along your outer thigh until he could grasp your chin and force you to look back at him. “Eyes on me.” He ordered, to which you would nod dumbly amidst your pleasured mewls.

You felt the delightful stretch of another of his thick fingers pressing into your sopping cunt, thrusting in tandem with his previous one, as he leaned closer to you and his lips just barely touched your own.

“S-Sae, mmph, more, please, please, touch me more.” You begged, bringing a sinful smirk to the midfielder’s lips.

Unexpectedly, he would comply with your requests, pressing the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and rubbing quick, pleasurable cricles with his fingers as he arduously sought out that sweet, sweet spot inside of you. You could not help but start sobbing his name, his thick fingers filling you to the brim even though he had yet to stuff his cock into you. Each time he curled upward inside of you, his impeccable skill had you gasping for reprieve.

It was nothing like Rin’s. His fingers were slightly thinner than his brother’s, but they were a tad longer too, able to reach the deepest spots within you without even trying. Sae's immense precision and experience, which allowed him to know exactly where your sweetest spots lay within you, made up for his lack of length.

“ . . . Are you seriously thinking about him right now?”

You were startled out of your reverie by his curious tone and thinly veiled anger. You tried to focus on his hardened features through your daze, but you couldn’t. The knot in your tummy tightened, and you felt an enormous wave of pleasure wash over you. Something big was coming, and you could feel it reverberating all throughout your core.

“He could never make you feel this good, could he? Never get this pretty cunt this wet for him, hm?” All throughout his monologue, you could hear the sinful squelching of your juices soaking his palm, dripping down his wrist, and splattering onto the floor. You were a mess beneath him. He would abuse that rough patch just along your upper walls until your toes clung to the sheets in ecstasy.

“M’sorry, m’sorry!” You mewled, breath coming out in short, high-pitched pants as you writhed under him, his pace increasing as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Who’s making a mess of you right now? Huh? Speak up, princess; let me hear you say it.”

“—You, Sae! You, you, you! Hah, please, I-I can’t . . . ! I-I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers. Make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did just that. Your body went rigid for naught but a second before your back was arched into him, and your head tossed itself back into the pillows as a chorus of unabashed wails of your release erupted from your pretty, drooling lips. Your release was immense—loud—as a gushing of juices from your pussy thoroughly drenched the sheets, Sae’s sweatpants, his abs, and his entire forearm.

You squirted. For him. For the first time ever.

It was uncharacteristic how an almost feral grin twisted on Sae’s lips, his fingers removing from your sopping cunt to place a few well-directed slaps on your far too sensitive and overstimulated pussy.

“Atta’ fuckin’ girl. Can’t believe my baby brother was keeping such a sweet little succubus all to himself—selfish bastard.”

You couldn’t even hear him; your chest was rising and falling heavily as tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks (and thighs).

“Hey, hey. You still with me?” His tone was soft, his typically impassive visage now meeting your own with furrowed eyebrows and a tinge of concern behind his bright hues.

You nodded—it was all you could muster at this moment, but it was good enough for Sae. He brought his soaking hand to your parted lips, lightly tapping the digits on your plump flesh in a silent command for you to clean him off. He chuckled. Your lithe tongue and eager brims slurped, licked, and sucked your mess off of his thick fingers that were now shoved down your throat without you even needing to be told what to do.

“You wanna do that again for me? On my cock this time, pretty?”

You were exhausted, your body already aching beneath him, but you still craved more from him. Another meek nod was given, your dazed eyes meeting his only to utter around his fingers, words garbled from his fingers on your tongue, “Wantha’ squirth’ awound ya cahwk.”

That was all Sae needed to hear as he stepped off of the bed, making quick work to discard his soaked sweatpants and boxers into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the bed. His large hands grabbed your soft hips, tugging you toward him with ease as he flipped you onto your hands and knees. He let out a growl, his hand raising to smack your plump ass once, then twice, on both of your cheeks before taking big, greedy handfuls of your flesh into his ravenous palms. This was undoubtedly already his favorite thing about you.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Sae placed your body horizontally across the mattress with your head facing the door. With a forceful push of your face down into the sheets, your view of the room instantly became obscured. You craned your neck back, peering at Sae from over the arch of your back as he grabbed one of your fat cheeks in one hand and used his other to line his cock up with your entrance. He slapped his heavy cock against your folds, his blossoming mushroom tip connecting with your throbbing clit making you both keen with ecstasy.

He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to be inside of you. He entered your drooling cunt with a single, calculated push, and your fluttering walls were already trying to devour more of him in response to the intrusion. Sae groaned as his hips met the flesh of your ass once he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His head lulled back as he dug his blunt nails into your flesh.

For the past three years, this—this right here is exactly what he had been craving, yearning over, and lusting for—and now he had it. He nearly came from the feeling inside of you alone, though; he’d be damned if he let the fun stop there.

A steady pace was quickly established by the midfielder's hips, and his long, deliberate strokes were deep enough to feel in your tummy and cause your toes to curl up in pleasure. Having had such a powerful orgasm not even minutes earlier, you were still fairly sensitive; however, that only made things all the more enjoyable.

“O-Oh my god, y-your cock, it’s t-too much, I-I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t, you cock-loving slut.” He snapped at you, cutting your pleas short with a sharp thrust of his hips. The rhythmic plapping of your ass against his pelvis resonated off the walls of the bedroom, lewdly ringing in your own ears. “This is everything I—we’ve—been wanting for years. Don’t tell me that now, all of a sudden—” He paused, groaning deeply through gritted teeth as you clenched around him. “—That this pretty pussy can’t take anymore when you’re gripping me so desperately.”

“B-But Sae, i-it feels too good! Like I’m . . . I’m gonna make a mess again!” You whined.

He thought it was adorable that even in the most deplorable and deprived of acts, you still attempted to hold some semblance of modesty. Oh, how you were both far past that.

If anything, that just fueled his aggression. He used your words as justification to pummel your poor pussy harder and faster, putting both of his hands on your hips and lower back and pressing his weight against you to force you into an almost painful arch as his pelvis slammed into your ass. Your vision went blurry from his unforgiving pace, and your throat went raw from your cries and screams of pleasure.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” He grunted in between thrusts, a hand raising to land a furious smack on your ass that caused you to mewl and your tiny fists to grip the sheets.

“Y-You, Sae! You are! Ngh, plea—”

“And who’s cock do you like better, huh, princess? Me or that lukewarm fuckface’s?”

You hesitated, but only for a millisecond, as you felt the blunt head of his cock caressing your sweet spot, pummeling into you over and over as your thighs began to shake, growing unable to hold yourself up from the stimulation. His thrusts faltered as his cock twitched inside of you. You figured he was close too.

“Yours, y-yours! Your cock feels so good, I-I’m gonna cum again! I’m ngh gonna cum all over your f-fuck-ing cock!”

He let out an almost animalistic groan, something between a chuckle and a feral snarl, “Yeah, princess? You really mean it?” He moved one of his hands to your hair, threading his fingers through it without yet pulling, almost as if he were waiting for your response.

Your response was almost instantaneous, and the adorable chorus of incoherent babbles and cries of "yes, yes, yes" left your head spinning. You had the sensation that you might pass out completely.

Your head was abruptly yanked out of the pillows, and your gaze was once again forced upward. Your eyes, albeit blurry and glassy, caught sight of the all-too-familiar figure standing in the doorway. Sweat dribbling from his forehead while dressed in a white windbreaker and sweatpants to protect himself from the elements during his jog, stood the one person who filled you with dread.

Rin.

He was back.

As your eyes locked onto the all-too-memorable teal ones boring into your own, your moans ceased. The logic and reason that you had previously dismissed for giving into your desires came flooding back. Guilt, which had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach, reared it’s ugly head once more.

He caught you.

With his brother.

The realization of your actions, the feeling of knowing that you hurt someone you cared deeply about and promised your life to, left you reeling. The enormity of the situation left you speechless and unable to respond.

As the shock slowly gave way to the depths of your despair, tears welled up in your eyes, this time of anguish. Your ability to control your emotions ran out, and you began to sob, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Each tear that ran free was weighed down by guilt and regret.

All the while, Sae never stopped thrusting behind you. Almost as if he remained unfazed by his brother’s—your boyfriend’s—sudden appearance.

“R-Rin—”

“—Save it.”

His initial shock, disbelief, and hurt gradually gave way to something else. He was angry, searing with anger as malice began to rise within him, a blaze of fury that threatened to consume him. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at . . . Sae?

“You told me you would wait until I got back, Nii-chan.”

The air left your lungs.

. . . What?

Using the grip from your hair, Sae pulled you back into him, pressing your body flush against his own as he craned your neck back into an awkward angle, forcing your gaze to meet his own. A dark and unsettling satisfaction crept into his expression, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. His eyes sparkled with a perverse delight, reveling in the twisted pleasure he derived from your adorably bewildered and anguished expression.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind raced for answers.

Sae’s gaze lazily tore from your own and to Rin's, who still remained in the doorway, the forward’s eyes sinfully burning into the way your breasts bounced sinfully from each of Sae’s now slow, agonizing thrusts.

"You know, little brother, it is not too late to join in on the fun."

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

if this gets enough attention, i may make a part two!

[lexxiisstuff]

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕:

**************

𝑯𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒊 𝑹𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐

"I can't fucking believe you" Your boyfriend shook his head incredulously and you sunk further into your seat with your arms across your chest. "Do you know how embarrassing that was for me?"

"It was an accident" You whispered softly staring at the red stop light in front of you too afraid to look at Rin. It had been a gang party. You were invited because you'd been with Haitani for almost three years now and the members trusted you enough to let you into their little circle. You had wanted to impress them because you knew how much they meant to Rin.

That's the reason you had accepted drink after drink that each of his friends had poured for you. Not wanting to seem uncool or uncomfortable. You had obviously gotten drunk. Haitani had seen you tipsy multiple times but you were never the type to get truly wasted. Which is why when you were dancing so completely out of rhythm and screaming his name at the top of your lungs he had grabbed you thrown you over his shoulder and took you to the car. You had sobered up some as the apartment you shared was on the other end of the city and took awhile.

"An Accident?" He scoffed and his hands clenched on the steering wheel as he glared "I can't believe I agreed to take you there. I thought you would have at least tried to behave yourself. God how can you be so careless? "

"Rin my head is fuzzy okay. Can we please, please just do this at home" You sighed tiredly rubbing your temples.

"Are you fucking kidding? No we're talking about it now. If you can't own up to your idiotic fucking actions-"

"Stop the car" You demanded. Furious.

"Are you going to be sick? Oh fucking great" He pulled over on the side of a main road and you yanked off your seat belt and got out of the car.

"I know I messed up but it doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that. You don't always have to be such a condescending asshole." You shut the door in his stunned face and turned to start walking away.

"Y/n! Y/n! fuck. Come on!" He drove the car next to you slowly and you turned to glance around. The road was empty almost deserted. The window of the car was wide open and you glanced at Haitanis pleading look but you were petty and so you continued walking.

"Baby get in the car please. I'm sorry I shouldn't have lost my temper with you. I'm sorry sweetheart . It's dark and you're not fully sober yet so can you just get in for me please. " He said gently

"No. I don't want to talk to you right now" You muttered shivering. It was freezing. Haitani watched helplessly as you trembled.

"Honey as we've established I am in fact an asshole. I'm sorry. I won't talk to you okay? Just get in and I'll take us home. Please. "

"I don't want to go home. Take me to Yuki. I'll sleep there tonight. I don't want to burden you and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to wake up to throw up. She'll take care of me" You mentioned your best friend and he shut his eyes angry with himself because he wasn't the one you wanted to comfort you at this moment.

"I can take care of you." He flinched at your harsh gaze "Alright I'll take you to Yuki. I promise" You sighed but got in the car quietly and he blasted the heat warming you up instantly.

"Love" He started but you turned to look out the window.

"You hurt my feelings Haitani" You mumbled sadly feeling teary eyed.

"I know and I never meant to. I'm sorry sweetheart. I don't even care about the dancing or the yelling or whatever but you don't ever drink that much and I was worried and I guess I took it out on you" He said squeezing the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize. You should be able to have fun without me treating you like a child. I don't mean to be overbearing or rude. And I would never want to hurt you" He mumbled sadly and you watched as he pulled in front of Yukis house.

"You're really gonna let me spend the night here?" He hated when you slept away from him and would complain about it all the time.

"I don't want you to. I want you in our bed tonight where I can watch over you but if you feel like that's not what you want I won't stop you. I fucked up but I love you and I want you to know I'll be here first thing in the morning to pick you up and take you home" He leaned in to link your fingers and brought you hand to his mouth kissing your palm. Something you usually would do when you were trying to win him over.

"Can we just go home now" You whispered tiredly.

"You want to stay with me tonight?" Hope glittered in his eyes

"I want to stay with you forever" You leaned in to kiss him and both his hands held your face. "Don't talk to me like that again"

"Never" He agreed pressing a kiss to your forehead.

****************

𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊 𝑴𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒚𝒂

"Hey honey" You muttered as you jumped into the passanger seat of your boyfriends car tiredly.

"Hey" He muttered angrily pulling out of the parking lot rather aggressively.

"Woah. What happened?" You asked nervously as he hit the gas.

"Why would you think something happened?" He said through a clenched jaw and you turned your head incredulously.

"Oh I don't know maybe it's the way you're clenching the steering wheel and have your foot flat on the accelerator. Slow down!" You gripped the dashboard and turned to glare at him "What the hell is going on?"

He just continued swerving through traffic ignoring you until finally he had to pull up at a red light "You have some fucking nerve" He muttered .

"What are you talking about?" You glared at him but he just ignored you. "Screw this. Stop the car right now"

He pulled over at the side of road ready to rip you a new one but before he could say anything you unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car not caring that it was raining. He hit the steering wheel in frustrated anger and sighed before storming out after you.

"Get in the car!" He yelled as you began to walk away. The both of you were getting soaked to the bone but he didn't care. He grabbed you around the waist and tugged you towards the car.

"Let me go!" You fought in his arms and he swore under his breath "Let me go asshole!"

"What the fuck" He hissed as you bit his hand and he let you go. You turned around furiously and even though he was fuming he couldn't help but stare at you in awe. Your eyes were shining your clothes and hair completely drenched and you were shaking in Fury. Goddess on earth he thought.

"What is your problem?" You breathed

"Did you tell people in your class that you've been wanting to break up with me for fucking months but was scared I'd hurt you?" He couldn't hide the crack in his voice.

"What?" You breathed. Confused

"If you want to break up with me then do it but you know. ..You have to know.. I would never-" He was cut off when you threw yourself into his arms wrapped your legs around his waist and you arms tightly around his shoulders.

"You idiot" You cried against his chest.

Confused but wanting nothing more than to comfort you he ran a hand down your damp hair and back. "Huh"

"You know better than anyone not to listen to the things people say. I love you” you mumbled

He stared at you utterly in love “Fuck baby. I love you. I’m sorry”

“Idiot”

You both grinned at each other. Soaked to the bone but desperately happy

[vamprincessrina]

𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖔 𝕱𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖋𝖙 (𝕺𝖗 𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝕴 𝕯𝖎𝖉)

I've always struggled with the concept of reality shifting. I had no problem when it came to manifesting in the “confines” of my current reality, but for some reason I could not, for the life of me, apply everything I knew when it came to making that bigger shift. I took breaks, I tried to “change” myself: I tried what felt like everything. And that was the issue. 

I feel like there's a big emphasis in the community on not over-consuming or over-complicating shifting, but that often left my mind wondering why? I was supposed to “know” how to do it, “it's natural”, but my ego had disagreements. I think in the shifting community and, in a broader sense the manifestation community, has this constant reiteration of not questioning yourself, and just “letting it happen”. And of course I don't think that's bad advice necessarily. But, for me (and I'm sure others), that was something that never sat well until I learned better. It was creating so much resistance for me that ended up holding me back for longer than necessary. 

Do not ignore that whisper of doubt inside of you. No, your doubts do not matter. But, that should not be conflated with ignoring them. You will doubt yourself. Your ego exists simultaneously with your highest self. Something that I did for a long time was thinking that I had to completely eliminate that in order to shift. Not only was I creating more doubts and confusion within myself, but I was imprinting in my subconscious that I had to become something in order to shift. 

You can literally be the biggest skeptic on planet earth and if you still persist despite that fact, you can still shift and manifest. Imagine using that energy? 

In the LOA community, it's often encouraged to “live in the end”. You're supposed to feel the feelings of having your desire, right? So, that would mean (or at least it did for me when it came to shifting) that I would have to be happy all the time, right? This can be incredibly misleading, I think, and it's funny how I let it be a factor in my own life when it came to shifting despite being a practiced manifestor. Thinking that you have to be happy all the time can be a very toxic mindset to have with yourself. First off, it can lead to a limerence relationship with shifting; conditioning yourself to believe that in order to be happy it requires being in that reality. Especially if, like me, you have a history with depression. I was basically telling myself that “I wasn't good enough to live in this reality unless I felt like ___.". It can also create a negative relationship with other emotions. No emotion is "good" or "bad". All parts of the ego exist to protect you. I have a post on this that I'd really encourage you to read if you struggle with this.

Another issue that came from my approach was, for the longest time, I was focusing on one reality that I wanted to shift to and told myself through constant affirmations and meditation that I was already there, "I've already shifted", etc. And while, YES, I knew that was true in the 4D, I was not able to shift for the entire year I persisted until I finally gave up. Do you know why it didn't work for me?

Because I wasn't able to fully convince myself that was true. And because of that, I wondered what was wrong with me. Surely, the method was fullproof, right? I told myself that it was because of my maladaptive daydreaming that I couldn't, I told myself it was because I wasn't in a good mental state that I couldn't. I started to unintentionally condition myself to think that anytime that I wasn't living in the end, I wasn't going to shift. I forgot the key part of it: letting go. But I couldn't. I had become so insistent on shifting realities and so stubborn in persisting in the way that I was doing it that it was detrimental to me. I didn't realize that I was boxing myself in: that I was telling myself, subconsciously, that I have to think like "THIS" to shift. I was also only limiting myself to the one reality that I was trying to shift to. I was limiting myself. 

It was ridiculous, really, that it felt so easy to manifest everything else, but not this one thing. It was no wonder I was never shifting. It was no wonder I was constantly crashing and relapsing on self-destructive habits after having a good stint. I was ignoring my ego. I was telling myself, and living, a constant lie. I was so incredibly hard on myself and was teaching myself to believe that I wasn't good enough because I “couldn't” shift which was a problem for multiple reasons.

It was only when I reached the bottom again that I decided to stop being so hard on myself. I stopped telling myself that I had to do x,y,z. I stopped telling myself that the 3D doesn't matter. I love everyone, but I do take a big problem with telling people to ignore the 3D without expanding upon it. Yes. I could probably find a handful of my own posts where I said the same thing. Let me be clear: no, the 3D does not matter. Because it does not define you. However, do not fucking ignore it. Do not neglect yourself. Stop treating the 3D like it's your mortal enemy. 

The 3D is your FRIEND. She is showing you the OLD PROGRAM. Now I want to pause to bring up another issue I had. And that is, putting all the weight on your own shoulders. “Oh, it must be my fault if the 3D isn't shifting”, “I'm not doing it right”, “This isn't working”. Stop, stop, stop. 

Something that often led me astray was conflating “the 3D shows your past beliefs” with “time does not exist”. I used to be so confused by that. Okay, if time doesn't exist and everything is just a “state of being”, and if the “3D is showing my past beliefs”, how does that work? It didn't seem to matter for me when manifesting. I could tell myself that things were going on in the background and I could trust the process. But, when it came to shifting, I kept wondering when the 3D would reflect. It was harder to trust the process because it wasn't like there would be a gradual change like with manifesting. I was expecting to just wake up in the reality I was manifesting and it started to grow increasingly frustrating when I didn't and I continued to tell myself that I was in fact there. 

Once again, I didn't realize I was boxing myself in. I had an EXPECTATION of what the manifestation was going to look like, while manifesting an open ended result to shifting. I kept manifesting that I was in ___ reality, but my ego was like no you fucking aren't? Basically, I was manifesting reality shifting in a way that didn't make sense for me. And by doing that, I was creating resistance.

And while, yes, manifesting that you have something in the 4D works. It IS how you can manifest with LOA. You DO have it in the 4D. It wasn't working for me when I was expecting a stark visual difference. What I'm trying to say is that, my approach to reality shifting using LOA wasn't working for me in the way that I was doing it.

So I took a step back. I got out my journal and I started thinking back on all that I knew. This is what I want to emphasize and what I think isn't said well enough by many. When we say each shifting journey is personal. WE MEAN IT. It took me way too fucking long of being stubborn with Neville Goddard's teachings and what my OWN idea of manifestation was and applying that to reality shifting before I reanalyzed.

If you are a skeptic, NOTE THAT. If you are depressed, NOTE THAT TOO. If you are telling yourself that you're in a different reality than you currently are and you're a naturally skeptic person (this is a self call out), then NO WONDER IT'S NOT WORKING. I was so stubborn in doing it one way until I had to break it down to basics and say, "Oh yeah there's more than one way to manifest so there's a lot more than one way to shift too." No kidding, right? But sometimes it's easy to forget these basics, even when you have experience.

The whole idea of over-complicating shifting (and manifestation) comes more from how much resistance you're creating for yourself and less what you do. I thought that if I tried to do "shifting attempts" then I would be over-complicating it. When in reality, I was over-complicating shifting by trying to constantly affirm something that I don't think I'd ever believe.

So, what did I do? First off, I decided that from now on I would stop telling myself I was in one reality and just "wait" for it to change. I'm sure that works for some people but it sure as hell wasn't working for me. I decided, instead, that I would meditate for a couple minutes before bed and just think about my desired reality. I would only give myself a little bit of time. By doing this, I would be affirming that it should NOT take more time than that to shift. And that, in that time, whatever I did should be enough. If when I stopped and opened my eyes I was still in my old reality, fine! All that means is that there's still more reprogramming to do. Doesn't mean that I'm doing anything wrong.

I would remind myself this at the time of the attempt and throughout the day. No matter how I felt, I would tell myself that, with enough persistence, the time would come where I WOULD shift just like that. I could also just roll over and shift in my sleep. By designating specific times to shift, I stopped letting it rule my life and beating myself up over it.

I would affirm "I believe I CAN shift", "failure does not faze me". Things like that. I also wanted to keep the "attempts" short, because I didn't want to come out of it with anxiety over not shifting. Was I allowed to be upset? YES. I stopped telling myself what I could or couldn't feel. I didn't need a reason to shift to a particular reality. I also no longer only had to focus on one reality by beginning to shift this way. If I wanted to attempt to shift to a FAME DR one night? Sure! If I wanted to attempt to shift to DCU the next? Great!

I stopped defining the "where" I needed to go and more so focused on the "how", if that makes sense. I told myself that this was about believing I can shift, NOT where I can shift. And so I persisted in this. If I decided to take a couple nights off, fine. It still was allowed to happen randomly when I slept. In fact, another thing I started to convince myself was that dreaming was a form of shifting and I sure as hell knew I could dream every night.

Of course, shifting is different than dreaming. But, I always had very vivid dreams. So, I just reminded myself that they're likely controlled by the same part of the brain and that dreaming is just a very loose, uncontrolled, and unintentional shift. And in a way, I do believe that it is. For me, a logician, I knew that I dreamed, lucid dreamed, and even astral projected once before, so it didn't seem unrealistic that shifting was real and was something I could do.

I was reprogramming my mind by doing something hands-on. By doing something measurable and tangible. Which I felt, with something like this, I needed to do. I'm a skeptic person. I have trust issues. If I created a controlled environment for myself to shift, then it could happen. And it did.

I needed trust in order to shift. I needed trust in order to manifest. My way of achieving those two things ended up being different and that's okay. I manifest a little differently than I reality shift. I stopped forcing myself to think that it all had to work the same way because I was limiting myself by doing that. I get depressed. I have trust issues. And that is okay. I still deserve to experience other realities and I don't have to do jack shit. I could have the worst day of my life and I can still meditate 5 minutes before bed and shift just like that. This is the new story I started to imprint on my subconscious.

Failure doesn't matter because I know that in the 4D this method WORKS and the universe is ALWAYS conspiring in my favor. I affirmed this. I reminded myself of this when I got doubts. My doubts were, and are, valid. All I needed to do was continue to have those attempts. Continue to believe that the 3D WILL update. That there is divine timing and have TRUST in that. To trust IS to surrender. I was finally able to surrender when it came to shifting by doing this method. And sure enough, I eventually did shift.

I hope this helps all of those who are frustrated and at their wit's end. Out of anyone else, you deserve it. You deserve it more than anyone just as you are.

 𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖆.

[joshslater]

Resizing

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Care to make it more interesting?" the guy said. We were both about the same age, size, and build. Me, a ginger electronics engineer student dedicated to exercise for years, and recently getting serious with bodybuilding, and he, a Latino who obviously didn't skip gym or his meal plan too often. I guess that was why he'd asked me to spot for him at the barbell. He returned the favor and I felt the need to use the same weight as him and do his reps plus one. That led into testosterone fueled adventure hunt through the gym where we one-upped each other on various equipment and exercises. No one else was in there at this hour. Very mature behavior conducive to optimal results, not. We'd likely regret this the rest of the week.

"Interesting how?" We were standing under the pull-up bars.

"Most pull-ups win muscle and size."

"Isn't that always the prize?" I asked.

"I suppose it is. Chin must come above the bar and then the head fully below it for it to count. Are you in?" He held out his hand. I shook it.

"I'm game," and took a small jump up to the bar and started without any hesitation. I could feel fatigue from what we had done previously, but I tuned it out best as I could. He was counting. I came past eight pretty smoothly, but then I started to struggle. I would have hoped to at least would be past twelve by that point. By thirteen I had to really push it to get number fourteen above the bar, but then I had to give up. I felt a bit disappointed, as I normally can go past fifteen, but he should be just as tired as I.

"Strong going," he congratulated and slapped my shoulder. Then he leaped to the bar, also trying to show off, and began. While it didn't look easy for him, I couldn't see him struggling too bad either, rhythmically going up and down, perhaps slowly getting closer to the agreed limit above the bar. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." His pace didn't falter. "Thirteen. Fourteen." He made a little smirk. "Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen." That last one wasn't perhaps a legal pull-up, but I had already lost. Perhaps he felt it too, so he dropped down to the floor.

"Fuck, I'm tired," he said, no need to pretend anymore. "Well, at least I won. I shall claim my prize," and he grabbed my hand again. Suddenly I was in agony. It felt like the dull day-after-soreness after a particularly grueling gym session, but there was more to it. It felt like I couldn't move anymore, at least not much. I wasn't frozen in place, but my body refused to detach from him, refused from stepping away. I was hot. I could feel droplets of sweat running down my body, and my eyes were watering up, making the entire room hard to see. But I could see that everything was somehow shifting.

Once he let go I felt unsteady, my body still in flames and sore as hell. His face however wasn't in front of me anymore. Instead I stared right into his chest. I looked down at my body. Years worth of work was gone. It was still an athletic body, but all definition in arms and legs were gone. Pecs and shoulders like any track and field student. "What the hell did you do!" I shouted.

"Muscle and size," he said calmly and flexed his now much larger arm. He looked down at me. "Don't worry. Girls like short boys with abs. Boys too I guess."

"Fuck you! Turn me back!"

"Or what? You're going to tell someone a guy you don't know stole your height at the gym?"

He had a point there. If I hadn't just seen it happen it would be completely unbelievable to me too.

"Just be the bigger man," he said and walked towards the showers.

[idwt-money]

Roomies

MDNI 18+

1.7k words

Noah Sebastian x Fem!Y/n

CW: unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, fingering, little eensy weensy bit of dirty talk

You and Noah had been roommates for a year on the dot. You both took the day and threw a small “celebration”. You had movies, snacks, your favorite fast food places and of course, alcoholic beverages.

Your movie options were wide ranged, from comedy to horror. Horror was your personal favorite but you didn't mind comedy at all.

You were watching The Shining, currently, such a classic movie. You could never get tired of it but Noah was so over it. You had forced him to watch it at least 25 times with you.

“Y/n, this is so boring!! I've seen this movie at least 30 times and you, even more!” He groaned.

“Whatever! It's my favorite!” You pushed off his annoyance and turned back to the movie. You had a bowl of pretzels, popcorn and chocolate chips. It was a good snack to just snack on while you mindlessly watched the movie.

Noah had his own bowl that he had now got up from his laid-back position on the couch, fully sitting up.

“Noah, move!! You're completely blocking the screen.” You rolled your eyes as Noah smirked and chuckled.

“Oh no! What a tragedy!” He sat facing you now, still covering the TV.

He leaned in close and you knew what would happen. You had no time to run away before Noah's hands were on your sides, tickling you.

“No! Noah oh my god!! Let me go!!” You tried to be mindful of your upstairs neighbors but your voice turned into more of a screech.

Noah completely ignored your pleas and continued his business. You wiggled and squirmed and you were now against his chest. You tried your best to get away from his grasp but it was no use.

Luckily, Noah had stopped, giving you a chance to breathe.

“We're going to get a fucking noise complaint because of you.” You mumbled.

“Yeah, whatever. The landlord is a douche anyways.”

Noah's arms were wrapped around you, keeping you safe and sound. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary. You were both single and sometimes just needed to feel loved.

You wouldn't lie, you found Noah attractive. His tattoos were appealing and his muscles had become more defined since he moved in and his hair had such a nice cut. You would joke about his scar from the lip piercing he had ages ago.

You and Noah had started off as strangers but now you were more inseparable as ever could be.

You were falling asleep as Noah was rocking you both back and forth on the couch, it was pretty late but luckily neither of you had work in the morning. It had worked out perfectly.

“Don't fall asleep on me, now.” His voice was low and rough but yet so comforting.

“Hm? I'm not!” You looked up at him and smiled.

“Seems like you might be.” He softly laughed.

“Nuh uh.” You shook your head.

He gave a soft kiss to your forehead. Usually, they would be friendly and would just be a soft peck, but this one was different.

It lasted longer, his arms tightened around you and he pulled you closer. For a split second, you thought something might have been wrong with him.

“Are you okay, Noah?” Your eyes gave concern when he pulled away.

“I'm perfectly fine, angel.” He smiled.

Angel was a nickname he used often with you when he was being cutesy. A blush rose to your cheeks, your face now being flushed pink.

“You look like one of those anime characters when they blush. You know, with the three blush lines?” His eyes were focused on yours, one hand now playing with their hair.

“Angel?” He sounded anxious.

“Yes, Noah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

A moment of silence was shared between you two before you nodded.

He took it slow and gave you a spiderman kiss. You smiled into the kiss and held onto his arm. When he pulled away, you pulled him back in.

You wanted this for a long time without even knowing.

This kiss was deeper, more meaningful. The first kiss was to seemingly test the waters. To see if either you or him had felt like it was right.

It felt more than right.

In no time, your tongues were dancing around each other and Noah's hand (with permission of course) was starting to explore your body.

His left hand groped your tits while his right hand was slowly dipping into your panties. He was taking too long for your liking, so you took it in your hands and moved his fingers under the waistband of your panties, letting him feel the pool of wetness he had caused you.

It caused him to break from the kiss, letting a soft moan escape from his lips. Instead of going back to your lips, he kissed along your neck. His middle and ring finger started to move along in small circles on your clit. Every so often gliding them up and down your cunt to collect the new wetness that had pooled up.

You leaned your head to the side and watched his hand move from your cunt to remove your pajama pants and underwear.

“Fuck I bet your pussy looks so damn pretty, angel.”

He took in your scent, the perfume you worse drove him up the wall. He could devour you in seconds if you'd allow him.

He had you open your legs, sliding his fingers through your cunt once more before plunging them into you. Your breath was caught in the back of your throat. God only knows how long it's been since you've been fucked, let alone fingered, by another person.

“Oh, god…Noah-” You started to grind against his hand, feeling his free hand grip you tight. You could feel his cock harden and twitch under your back. The way you're moving your body only made it worse. Your back rubbing against Noah's cock was making him go crazy.

His fingers curled up into your g-spot, causing you to shutter and snap your legs closed.

“Don't you dare. Keep them open, angel.”

You tried your best to do as he said. It was so hard. The pleasure was all too much and your body was on the verge of taking a mind of its own.

“Noah- oh god, Noah..” Your cunt tightened and clenched around his fingers, signaling how close you were to him. Noah didn't have to say anything to you to let you get yourself over the edge.

It crashed into you. After fucking yourself for so long, having someone else touch you was undescribable.

Your nails dug into his arm and you slowly came down.

When you had gained your energy back, you turned around, facing Noah, sitting on your knees.

“Take your shorts off.”

“Are you sure, angel? You don't have to-”

“Noah, shut up. Let me have you.”

With no further questions, Noah threw his clothes somewhere in the living room. His cock was utterly beautiful. It had a pretty pink tip, veins running up and down the shaft and god it made you drool.

You spit onto it, stroking it once or twice, so it wouldn't hurt as much when you sat on it.

You desperately wanted to wrap your lips around it and suck him dry, but he denied.

“I won't last long enough, please just let me feel you. Fuck, please, angel.” His words were more so pleas than directions.

You took your shirt off, along with his as you started to crawl into his lap. Once the rest of your clothes were discarded, you sat down on his cock.

Your mouth hung open as Noah's eyes rolled back. You steadied yourself by putting your hands on either side of Noah's shoulders. Noah took charge and placed his hands on your waist.

“Holy shit. You feel like heaven on fucking earth.” His voice was breathy and it made your pussy flutter around him.

You started off by grinding on his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. He was bigger than you expected and definitely bigger than anyone else you had slept with before.

“You're so fucking big. Holy shit!”

He smirked and started to slightly bounce you up and down. Once you caught onto the pace Noah set, You took it into your own hands.

Noah made a ponytail in his hand and softly pulled your head backwards. He placed a fat hickey onto your neck. He knew you'd be pissed, he knew it would highschool behavior but fuck, he couldnt help it. It looked so perfect on you. Made by him.

Your eyes rolled back and you let your legs do the work for you. Noah was meeting you halfway, thrusting his hips to fuck even deeper into you.

You swore you could feel his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.

You knew you'd be sore as fuck tomorrow but it'd all be worth it for the sex you were having with the man in front of you.

“Fuck, you have no idea…how long…I've wanted to do this..” He spoke between catching his breath.

You heard the wet noises from your pussy and your skin hitting together. Weirdly, it was such a hot sound, knowing the cause made you even wetter. You were dripping down your thigh and onto Noah's pelvis bone.

You both were an absolute mess but it felt so good. Neither of you could think straight and all you wanted was to feel was Noah's cock pump you full of his babies.

Noah knew all of your ins and outs. You had many conversations of your kinks and fantasies, solely as friends. Mostly when you were drinking or getting high, but nonetheless, he remembered them all.

“Wanna feel my babies, hm? Feel me stuff you full of my cum.” His words were harsh but his body language was so soft and gentle. Despite his cock completely abusing your cunt.

You nodded, tears building up in your waterline.

“God, yes please Noah. I wanna feel you.”

You felt your stomach tighten up, like a rubber band that was ready to explode.

“Pl-please!!” You cried out

“Cmon, angel. Do it with me. You got it, baby.”

Sweat was building up on his toned chest, making him look even more attractive, if that was at all possible.

Within the next three thrusts, Noah had painted your insides. It made you feel so warm and fucked out. It was utter bliss.

You collapsed on Noah's chest, heaving for air.

Noah's hand ran through your hair as he thanked you.

“Want me to run you a shower, angel?”

[etheries1015]

Discovered your virgin Lilia content and I'm in LOVE

do you think he would be embarassed if he's given him a condom for his first time ?

Perhaps...hehe. I have a short idea about this... 18+ minors DNI I can't imagine he has had much sex education, so the first time you ask if he has a condom, he stares at you in mild confusion with a blush upon his cheeks.

"A...condom? I wasn't aware I needed such a thing. Isn't that optional?"

You had to stifle a chuckle at his mild innocence and confusion, it seems he perhaps had a general idea of what condoms are used for, so you open your drawer and pull one out (you knew this day was coming, you had to be prepared!). When you hand the plastic covering to him, he holds it with an unsure hand and bites his bottom lip with furrowed eyebrows. He sat back against the plush bed on his legs, almost looking like a confused little puppy... instead of helping him (as you probably should)

"It's only optional if you wish to impregnate me, or if you don't mind the prospect of sexual diseases." He looked up at you with wide eyes and a slight blush upon his cheeks, opening and closing his mouth as if choosing his next words wisely.

"Do you not clean yourself properly?" You raised an eyebrow at this and your lips quirked up uncertain if you were amused or offended at his brazen statement. After a second of deciding the humor in the situation, you let out a laugh of astonishment.

"Lilia, I don't wanna judge you or anything, but how much sexual education did you get in the Valley? Or...at all, for that matter?" the flushed cheeks and averting gaze told you enough of that matter, and you let out a slight sigh between parted lips. You took the condom out of his hand and started to open the wrapper, explaining that condoms are more important than just getting someone pregnant. It's also to protect you from diseases, which you can get, REGARDLESS how well you clean yourself." Lilia nodded as you continued to lecture him, watching as you open the condom.

"Now. I presume you know how it goes on, at least?"

"I..." Lilia faltered, "I have a brief understanding it goes over my.." He gulped.

How cute, the way he couldn't even say it. 700 years old, and he couldn't describe how to use a condom.

Lilia removed his pants and allows you to assist him, his hands pressing against the bed behind him where his chest puffed out slightly, where you could see his rapid breathing of anticipation and watchful gaze as you rolled the condom over his stiff cock. You felt him twitch as you put it on, Lilia letting out a low whine.

"I must wear this the entire time?" He complained, "It feels weird..." his hips moved slightly, "And it looks horrid, wouldn't you agree? I still don't fully understand the point of this thing. Can we not just throw it aside and deal with any issues later? I feel this isn't completely necessary," he huffed with pouty pink cheeks. You looked up at him with a mischievous smile upon your lips, and let out (yet another) sigh of defeat.

"Well..." you pondered, slowly removing your clothes, "if you're a good boy... maybe I'll let you take it off. Maybe."

[onlyhereforthestories]

Most Wonderful Time Of The Year (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Day 4! Anyone else think that decorating the tree is one of the best parts of the festive holiday?

As the holiday season approached Leah got more and more excited. You knew she loved the holiday but being as last year you had only been officially dating for about 3 months, she had dampened it down a little as to not overwhelm you. This year though you could tell she was fully comfortable sharing her excitement with you, something you were more than happy with.

Leah had insisted that this Christmas, you’d be decorating the tree together in her apartment. Last year you had left her house one evening and came back the next night to find her house transformed into a winter wonderland of sorts. This year however, she was going to make sure you were a part of her plans, being as you were a lot more involved with each other.

You could tell she’d been looking forward to it all week, she’d already picked up the perfect tree which has spent the last day dropping out. She had also spent an afternoon at the garden centre, bringing home boxes filled with ornaments, lights, and ribbons stating that as this was your first joint tree it had to be new things that you both would like.

Tonight, she’d even set up a holiday playlist so that while you decorated, the living room would be filled with soft, nostalgic carols. She pulled out a big box filled with ornaments, each one carefully wrapped in tissue paper. “I went a bit overboard,” she admitted, laughing as she took out a few of the shiny baubles. “I just couldn’t pick!”

“You went all out, huh?” you teased, grinning as she unwrapped a glittery red ornament and held it up for inspection. She rolled her eyes at you, a playful smile tugging at her lips, and handed you a few decorations to start with.

“Christmas isn’t for half assing a job, not that I ever do that anyway love. But this is like the best holiday of the year, you have to do it proper.” You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face at the excitement coming from the Lioness captain. Only offering her a slight hmmm of semi agreement, before you took the box of ornaments off of her.

As you both worked, Leah passed you ribbons, tinsel and ornaments, her eyes lighting up whenever you hung one up. Some of the decorations were traditional, tiny wooden reindeer, little stars, and glass bulbuls in classic red and gold. But Leah had also picked out a few quirky ones: a mini soccer ball, a tiny camera, and a little book with “Our Adventures” scribbled across it. You couldn’t help but laugh as she explained each one, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she shared the stories behind each choice.

“We obviously have to have a football one, its literally the only reason we are here now…”

“If I had a pound for every photo you took of me or a pretty view then id be richer than a men’s player…” You did mention her and a pretty view are one and the same which got your favourite pink cheeks and scoff reaction from her.

“This feels like the beginning of our adventures, and I saw that one and thought is was a fitting first Christmas together properly ornament. Much better than the cheesy actual ones act least.”

After a while, you noticed a small, lumpy bundle at the bottom of the box. Unwrapping it, you found an old, handmade ornament. It was a little star painted in Leah’s favourite colours and was a bit worn around the edges. “What’s this one?” you asked, holding it up.

Leah looked at it and smiled, a little sheepish. “I made it when I was a kid. It’s terrible, isn’t it?” She laughed, looking a bit embarrassed, but you could see the fondness in her eyes.

“It’s perfect,” you replied, giving her a warm smile as you carefully hung it in a prime spot near the top of the tree where everyone could see it with just a glance. She watched, her face softening as she took your hand and squeezed it gently.

After an hour or so, the tree was nearly complete, draped in lights and covered in the mix of classic and quirky ornaments Leah had chosen. You both stood back, admiring your work as she reached over to switch on the lights. “This is always the best part, the first light up. It’s just magic.” The tree glowed softly, casting the room in a warm, magical light. You couldn’t help but agree with her.

Leah wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder as you both gazed at the finished tree. “It’s perfect,” she murmured, her voice warm in your ear. You leaned back into her, feeling her arms tighten around you in a quiet, contented hug.

She glanced over at the last item on the table, a silver star meant for the top of the tree. With a grin, she picked it up and handed it to you. “You want to do the honours?”

You nodded, feeling a spark of excitement as she lifted you up slightly, helping you reach the top of the tree. Carefully, you placed the star on the branch that stuck out at the top, and she set you back down, pulling you close once again as you both admired the final touch.

“Absolutely perfect,” she whispered, kissing your forehead softly. Her hand stayed at the small of your back, grounding you as you both took in the soft glow of the room.

After a moment, Leah grabbed a couple of candy canes from a nearby bowl, handing one to you before popping the other into her mouth, grinning as she let it dangle between her lips. She looked at you with that cheeky spark in her eye. “Come on, I can’t be the only one getting into the Christmas spirit,” she said, nudging you playfully.

You laughed, taking a bite of your candy cane and settling down beside her on the couch. She pulled a blanket over both of you, leaning against you as she pressed play on a classic Christmas movie that she’d queued up earlier. Together, you snuggled up, munching on candy canes, watching the lights twinkle on the tree, and laughing at the silly holiday scenes unfolding on the screen.

As the night came to and end, you tried to unwrap yourself from the cozy blanket covered position you and Leah had gotten into. The blonde didn’t let you; she tightened her hold on your waist and whispered into the calm night, “Thanks for making this the best Christmas.”

You smiled, reaching to take her hand that had settled on your stomach. “Thank you for letting me be part of it.”

With her hand in yours and the lights from the tree casting gentle shadows across the room, you felt like this was exactly where you were meant to be. It wasn’t just about the tree or the decorations, it was about being with Leah, sharing those little moments that you hoped would happen for years to come, and feeling perfectly at home in each other’s arms as the night settled around you.