#to make everything as comfortable as possible for him

[jungwnies]

F1 Grid | valentines day

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerlc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested or not) : spending valentines day with your f1-boyfriend

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : slight suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3927

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : happy valentines day to everyone! <3

ʚ・max verstappen

you weren’t expecting much for valentine’s day. it wasn’t that max didn’t love you—he absolutely did—but he wasn’t exactly the grand romantic gesture type. if anything, you were prepared for the day to come and go without so much as a mention.

that is, until christian horner made an offhand comment about how he was taking geri out for a fancy dinner.

“wait, valentine’s day is today?” max blurted, nearly dropping his red bull can.

lando, sitting beside him, snorted. “oh, mate—you��re so screwed.”

max bolted from his seat, leaving his engineer mid-sentence, and disappeared before anyone could even process what had happened.

you were home, lounging in one of max’s oversized hoodies, when your phone started buzzing with frantic texts from him.

max: are you home? max: never mind, you are. stay there. max: actually, don’t move. i’m coming.

you barely had time to process his sudden urgency before you heard the sound of his car pulling into the driveway at breakneck speed. moments later, he burst through the door, slightly out of breath, hair a little messy, and holding… a grocery store bouquet and a bag from a bakery down the street.

“hey,” he panted, trying to act casual but failing miserably. “happy valentine’s day.”

your eyes flicked to the half-crushed bouquet in his grip and then to the bag, which he handled like it contained the secret to world peace.

“did you forget?” you asked, crossing your arms but already grinning.

“no,” he lied. then, with a sigh, “okay, yes, but only because no one told me.”

you giggled, taking the slightly squished flowers from him. “max, the world has been advertising valentine’s day for weeks.”

“yeah, well, i don’t look at pink and red decorations and think oh, i should do something romantic,” he huffed. “but i fixed it, right?”

you peered into the bakery bag, pulling out a heart-shaped pastry, and smiled. “did you at least try it before buying?”

his face turned sheepish. “i got two. ate one on the way home.”

laughing, you tugged him down onto the couch beside you, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “it’s perfect, max. i don’t need anything fancy—just you.”

his shoulders relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

“… good. because i really did panic-buy the flowers,” he admitted, making you burst out laughing.

he may have been chaotic, but he was your chaos, and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

from the moment february began, you knew lewis had something planned.

it started when he casually asked you one night, his voice soft but certain, "will you be my valentine?" as if you could possibly say no.

you laughed, setting your book aside. "you're asking me like we haven't been together for years."

"i know," he grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "but you deserve to be asked properly."

and that was just the beginning.

by the time valentine's day arrived, you barely had to lift a finger.

when you woke up, there was a carefully wrapped box sitting on the edge of the bed, a note resting on top in lewis's elegant handwriting:

"good morning, my love. no need to stress about today. i have taken care of everything. wear this and be ready by seven. i will handle the rest. can't wait to see you. always yours, lewis."

you unfolded the tissue paper inside and found an outfit. the outfit. something effortlessly elegant, tailored to your style but with a touch of his own influence. he knew what would make you feel confident, comfortable, and beautiful.

a warmth bloomed in your chest. he had thought of everything.

when seven o'clock arrived, you stepped out of your room and found lewis waiting, looking devastatingly handsome in a custom suit. his eyes swept over you, appreciation lighting them up instantly.

"you look stunning," he murmured, stepping forward to take your hand.

"you picked it," you teased.

"doesn't make it any less true." he brought your fingers to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss there. "ready?"

"always."

the evening was a dream.

lewis had planned a private dinner at a breathtaking rooftop restaurant, candles flickering around you, soft jazz playing in the background. the menu had been curated just for you. your favorite dishes, a wine he knew you loved, even a dessert he had requested specifically because you once mentioned craving it months ago.

it was not just the grandeur of it all. it was him. the way he leaned in when you spoke, completely present. the way he reached across the table, tracing absentminded circles on the back of your hand. the way his eyes never left you, like he was still in awe after all this time.

"you really went all out, didn't you?" you mused, watching as he poured you another glass of wine.

lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "you deserve it. i wanted today to be perfect for you."

you smiled, heart full. "it already was the moment i woke up."

his fingers intertwined with yours, a soft look in his eyes. "i love you, you know."

"i know." you squeezed his hand. "i love you too, lewis."

and as the night carried on, filled with love, laughter, and little stolen kisses, you knew that no matter how much effort he put into the plans, what truly made the night special was simply him.

ʚ・george russell

george had been unusually secretive the past week.

nothing drastic, just little things. hushed phone calls, a knowing smirk when you asked about plans, and the way he would randomly glance at you with a quiet excitement in his eyes.

"you will see," was all he ever said.

and you did.

on valentine's day, just as the sky began to shift into soft hues of pink and orange, george pulled up to a secluded beach with a playful grin on his face.

"i thought we could do something different," he said, reaching over to squeeze your hand before hopping out of the car.

your eyes drifted over the shoreline, the gentle waves rolling in, and the salty breeze kissing your skin. there was no extravagant setup, no overwhelming display. just the sound of the ocean, the warmth of the setting sun, and george beside you, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

"you planned this?" you asked, smiling as he grabbed a picnic basket from the backseat.

"of course," he said proudly. "i wanted something simple, just us. no distractions, no cameras, no fancy restaurants. just this."

your heart swelled as he led you to a cozy spot where he had set up a blanket in the sand, the basket filled with your favorite snacks and a bottle of wine.

as you sat together, watching the waves roll in, george draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. "i know it is not much, but i wanted today to be about you and me, not some over-the-top production."

you looked up at him, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "it is perfect, george."

his lips curved into a soft smile before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "good. because there is nowhere else i would rather be than here with you."

the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the distant sound of the waves lulling you into a peaceful state. at one point, george pulled out his phone and played a song quietly through the speaker, a mellow tune that matched the peaceful ambiance of the beach.

"dance with me?" he asked, holding out his hand.

you let out a small laugh. "there is no music loud enough to dance to."

"we do not need loud music," he said, pulling you up anyway. "just trust me."

and so you did.

you swayed together under the dimming sky, bare feet sinking into the cool sand, his arms wrapped securely around you. it was simple. it was intimate. it was everything you never knew you needed.

as the last bit of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, george whispered, "happy valentine's day, love."

resting your head against his chest, you smiled. "happy valentine's day, george."

and in that moment, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the warmth of his embrace, you knew that this was love in its purest form.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos had always been charming. but tonight, he was on another level.

from the moment he picked you up, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look impossibly handsome, you knew he had something special planned. his smirk was dangerous, the kind that sent warmth through your entire body.

“you look stunning, mi amor,” he murmured, leaning in just a little too close as his lips brushed your cheek. his cologne lingered, warm and intoxicating. “i almost want to skip dinner and keep you all to myself.”

you rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. “behave.”

“i make no promises,” he teased, leading you to the car.

the restaurant was one of your favorites, a cozy yet elegant spot that carlos had somehow managed to book despite its usual months-long waiting list.

the moment you were seated, he reached across the table, fingers brushing over yours as he gazed at you with that signature, lazy smirk. “i think i am already full just looking at you.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “that was terrible.”

“but did it work?” he asked, lifting your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it slowly, deliberately.

your skin tingled. “maybe a little.”

he grinned. “good.”

throughout dinner, he was extra attentive, making sure you had everything you wanted. his knee brushed against yours under the table, his voice dipped lower whenever he leaned in to whisper something just for you, and his fingers traced light patterns along your wrist whenever he held your hand.

at one point, he tilted his head, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“what?” you asked, smiling.

“nothing,” he murmured, his voice soft but deep. “i just love watching you when you are happy.”

your heart fluttered. “carlos.”

his smirk returned. “what? it is true.” he took a slow sip of his wine, eyes never leaving yours. “besides, i like to remind you how completely, hopelessly in love with you i am.”

your stomach flipped. “you are really pulling out all the stops tonight, huh?”

he leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “only because i know what it does to you.”

your breath hitched. “you are unbelievable.”

he smirked, fingers brushing over yours again. “and yet, you love me anyway.”

you sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through your chest. “unfortunately.”

carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “i think you mean luckily.”

you looked at him, taking in the way his dark eyes burned with something deeper than just playful flirtation. beneath the teasing, beneath the smooth confidence, there was love. real, undeniable love.

and it was all for you.

as dinner came to an end, he reached for your hand again, tracing slow circles against your palm. “do you want dessert?”

you tilted your head. “are you actually talking about dessert, or is this another one of your lines?”

his lips twitched. “would you be disappointed if it was?”

you shook your head, laughing softly. “no.”

his fingers laced with yours as he brought your hand to his lips once more, voice low and full of promise.

“good.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles had monaco at his fingertips. it was beautiful, luxurious, and full of charm, just like him. but when valentine’s day approached, he surprised you with something unexpected.

“we are going to paris,” he had said casually over breakfast, sipping his coffee like he had not just dropped the most romantic idea possible.

your eyes widened. “paris? you live in monaco, one of the most beautiful places in the world, and you’re taking me to paris?”

he smirked, setting his cup down before leaning in. “everyone knows paris is for lovers, mon amour. and i want to spoil you properly.”

and he did.

the moment you landed, you felt the shift.

paris had its own kind of magic, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. the air smelled of fresh bread and soft rain, the streets alive with quiet charm. charles took your hand effortlessly, like he was meant to hold it, leading you through the city as if he had been born to love it, just as he had been born to love you.

the morning was slow and sweet, starting with a walk along the seine. he held your hand the entire time, stopping occasionally just to press a kiss to your temple, or to murmur something in french that he knew would make you blush.

“say something else,” you teased, smiling up at him.

he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “tu es la plus belle chose que j’ai jamais vue.”

you shivered at the way his voice dropped, the way his breath was warm against your skin. “and what does that mean?”

he smirked, tugging you just a little closer. “it means you are the most beautiful thing i have ever seen.”

your heart flipped in your chest. “you are too good at this.”

“i am only good at this because it is you.”

he spent the afternoon showing you his favorite hidden spots. a small café tucked away from the crowds, where he ordered for you effortlessly in french, his accent rolling off his tongue like silk. a bookshop near the notre-dame, where he traced his fingers over the spines of old novels, claiming he was looking for something special to remember this trip by.

“i do not need souvenirs,” he said, slipping his arm around your waist. “you are the only thing i want to remember.”

by the time evening arrived, he had one final surprise.

he took you to the eiffel tower just as the sun was setting, the sky painted in soft pinks and golds. as the lights flickered to life, he turned to you, his hands resting firmly on your waist.

“beautiful,” he murmured.

“the view?” you teased, even though you already knew the answer.

he shook his head slowly. “you.”

your breath caught in your throat as he reached for you, his lips finding yours in a slow, lingering kiss. there was no rush, no urgency. just the feeling of being completely and utterly his, surrounded by the city of love, under the lights of paris.

his hands slid to the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles as he deepened the kiss. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, “you taste sweeter than any wine.”

your cheeks warmed, but before you could reply, he kissed you again, this time with just a hint of teasing, just enough to make your heart race.

by the time you arrived at the hotel, paris had already left you breathless.

the suite was stunning, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, warm candlelight flickering against the walls, and soft rose petals scattered across the bed.

you turned to charles, who was watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. “you really thought of everything.”

his smirk was slow, deliberate. “i always do.”

you stepped closer, hands resting against his chest. “why paris?” you asked, voice soft.

his hands found your waist easily, like he had been waiting for this moment all night. “because it is the most romantic city in the world.” his voice dropped slightly, eyes darkening as he pulled you even closer. “and because i wanted to make sure you never forget tonight.”

your pulse quickened as his fingers traced slow patterns along your lower back, his lips brushing just below your ear.

“i have given you paris,” he murmured, voice warm and deep. “now, i only want to give you me.”

his lips ghosted over your skin, teasing, lingering, waiting.

the night was still young.

ʚ・lando norris

you were this close to losing it.

sitting on your couch, phone in hand, you stared at the screen, thumb hovering over lando’s contact. it was nearly eight in the evening on valentine’s day, and there had been no text, no call, no nothing.

no “happy valentine’s, love.” no “can’t wait to see you.” not even a dumb meme.

you waited all day, giving him the benefit of the doubt. maybe he was busy. maybe he had something planned. maybe he forgot.

your blood simmered at that last thought. oh, if he forgot…

you hit the call button, heart pounding as it rang. once. twice. straight to voicemail.

“oh, hell no.”

you stood up, pacing the living room, preparing the argument in your head. you would start off calm. hey, babe, just wondering if you forgot a certain very important day? then you’d get passive-aggressive. wow, imagine forgetting your girlfriend exists. and if he dared to laugh, you would go full dramatic mode. maybe i should date someone who actually remembers i exist. maybe oscar piastri wouldn’t forget.

but before you could dial again, the doorbell rang.

you blinked, still mid-rant in your head. slowly, you walked over, swinging the door open, fully prepared to go off—

and there he was.

lando stood on your doorstep, slightly out of breath, holding entirely too many things at once. a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant, a small wrapped box, and a guilty, breathless grin on his face.

"hi," he said sheepishly, eyes twinkling.

you crossed your arms, biting back a smile. "you forgot, didn’t you?"

his jaw dropped in mock offense. "never!"

you gave him a pointed look. "then why do you look like you just ran a marathon?"

"because someone’s favorite restaurant takes forever to prepare food," he said, stepping inside as you moved aside. he held up the takeout bag like a trophy. "i have been standing in line for an hour. an hour, babe. do you know how many people are out there trying to get last-minute valentine's dinners? it’s war out there."

you snorted, shaking your head. "you could’ve at least texted me, lando. i was this close to picking a fight with you."

"believe me, i know," he muttered, placing everything down on the table. "i saw the missed call and almost died because i knew you were about to go nuclear on me."

you rolled your eyes as he unwrapped the takeout, the smell filling the room instantly. he grinned at your reaction, knowing full well how much you loved it.

"see?" he said, handing you a pair of chopsticks. "you thought i forgot, but really, i was just out here being the best boyfriend ever."

you raised an eyebrow. "you sure about that?"

he smirked. "mostly."

you shook your head, but when he grabbed a flower from the bouquet and tucked it gently behind your ear, your heart melted just a little.

"you do look really cute when you're mad, though," he added, grinning.

"lando," you warned, but he just laughed, pulling you onto the couch with him.

as you both started eating, he kept sneaking little bites of your food, dodging your half-hearted swats, grinning every time he managed to steal some.

"you're literally eating the same thing," you huffed.

"yeah, but yours tastes better."

"you are insufferable."

"and yet, here you are," he teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. "still mad at me?"

you sighed dramatically, resting your head against him. "i mean… i was really looking forward to yelling at you."

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "i know. next time, i’ll text you, my bad."

"next time?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

he winked. "next time i make you think i forgot."

you gasped, smacking his arm as he burst into laughter, dodging you like an overgrown child.

eventually, you both settled down, tangled together on the couch, sharing food, jokes, and soft kisses in between.

and despite all your earlier frustration, you realized you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

ʚ・oscar piastri

valentine’s day was meant to be easy this year.

no over-the-top plans, no rushing to a fancy restaurant, no stress about whether a reservation would fall through. just you and oscar, a quiet night in, and the simple comfort of being together.

you had both agreed on it weeks ago, sitting in bed one night when he casually asked, “so, what do you wanna do for valentine’s?”

you had shrugged, leaning against him. “something simple. movies, dinner at home, just us.”

his response had been instant. “perfect.”

and now, as you stood in the kitchen, stirring the sauce for dinner while music played softly in the background, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

oscar walked in, freshly showered, his hair still damp as he leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy smile.

“you need help?” he asked, even though you both knew the answer.

“you just want an excuse to mess around,” you teased, throwing him a knowing glance.

he gasped in mock offense. “i would never.”

raising an eyebrow, you pointed at him with the spoon. “like last time, when you ‘helped’ by stealing half the ingredients and eating them before they even made it into the dish?”

he grinned unapologetically. “that was a tactical decision.”

laughing, you turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce as he moved behind you, arms sneaking around your waist. he rested his chin on your shoulder, watching over you like he was actually involved in the process.

“this is nice,” he murmured.

you smiled, leaning back against him. “told you. low-key is the way to go.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before pulling away. “alright, chef, what do i do?”

you handed him a cutting board with some vegetables to chop. “here. real help this time.”

he got to work, surprisingly efficient, only occasionally making faces at the onions like they had personally offended him.

by the time dinner was ready, the two of you set up in the living room, plates in hand, a blanket tossed lazily over your legs. the movie had barely started when you noticed oscar already halfway through his meal, focused but relaxed, like he was completely at home in this moment.

and, really, he was.

the two of you were tangled together on the couch, comfortable in the quiet moments, sneaking bites from each other’s plates, sharing knowing glances when something ridiculous happened in the movie.

at one point, he nudged you. “are you actually watching, or are you just staring at me?”

you smirked, setting your plate down. “maybe both.”

he huffed a laugh, shifting to face you fully. “well, if you’re gonna stare, at least make yourself useful.”

before you could ask what he meant, he pulled you closer, pressing his lips softly against yours. it was slow, unrushed, just like the night itself.

his hand found its way to your cheek, thumb tracing light patterns as he pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“happy valentine’s,” he whispered.

you smiled, brushing your nose against his. “happy valentine’s, oscar.”

he sighed contently, pulling you even closer as the movie played on, forgotten.

and in that moment, you realized that you didn’t need fancy dates or extravagant gestures.

because home wasn’t a place.

it was him.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[thegrinningghost]

Hey OP!! I saw your art this morning and it has been plaguing my mind ever since, so I figured I’d write a short story to go with your art. Also, have a moodboard based on it! I hope you don’t mind another reblog–I know you’ve already gotten so many, but I thought it’d be cool to write and share with you =D

Also, this AU is really cool, so props to you and your friends! It’s definitely made me have many ideas. Anywayy, on with the story!

  (some StarSky / SkyStar if you squint)

The storm had paused in its movements, snowflakes peacefully swaying in the slight breeze. The Arctic was known to be deafening; a place of isolation, and a home to very few. Still, it held the very same wonders of life. Perhaps even more. And, in some miraculous scheme, the young scientist managed to be stationed in the desolate land. Now, he wasn’t a real scientist at the moment, doing real science-y things, but science isn’t always about blowing something up, which he had noted many times to his friends on their daily calls. As of now, he was scouting the land, carrying his bag full of tools and his faithful sketchbook. It was in that raggedy thing, full of many torn pages and typos, that he wrote down his observations of the natural spectacles he saw on his daily outings. It had become a source of comfort when the frost seemed to bite too close to his heart, one that he constantly held close to him. It felt like home.

Speaking of home, only a sea away, a jet was flying dangerously low to the salty sea spray. Though it appeared like the pilot was testing their luck with fate, there was meticulous skill in their movements as they cruised across the frosty, open seas. Just moments prior had there been yelling, voices that still hung low from their ears. Still, they refused to let the weight bury them into the sea, though the prospect of drowning did sound especially intriguing. The slowly rising head of a whale urged the jet out of their thoughts, and to make room for the natural inhabitants of their newfound home. In a swift moment of spinning away from the aquatic beast, the jet slowed before launching far ahead, aiming for a desolate land frozen in time.

      The snowflakes had stopped their graceful dance through the sky, and so nature took its turn. The natural residents were always a sight to behold; fanciful creatures of many similarities and differences, not too far from those like the scientist. Though, they often had a better time fitting in.

      It was when the scientist was observing a particular lynx that had become a common spectacle over the past few days, that things began to go downhill. In fact, they were nearly launched down one when the snow sprayed in massive, collateral damage. Shielding himself with his arm, time seemed to freeze, and if possible, the temperature lowered even further as he slowly raised his head. Hunched down, with a massive sword steeped in the frosty ground, was a massive, mechanical creature. The menace had scared off the lynx, but that fact barely phased to scientist. This was something new, something yet to be seen. Someone. And he was curious. Something that would get someone killed.

      “You are . . . beautiful.” His words were hushed, mesmerized by the way that the being stood tall against the white-tinted sky. Despite his mumblings, the creature heard, and stared in startled awe. A small creature. And it spoke to him. So, in turn, he spoke back, voice nearly just as soft.

      “Thank you,” though it sounded more like a question.

      The young man smiled and laughed, though the wind stole all sound of it.

      “What’s your name?”

      “What?”

      “Your name! Like . . . what someone calls you. I’ll go first! My name is Sky, though my friends like to call me by my accidental nickname, Skyfire.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly, eager to speak, though not about how he just so happened to gain said nickname. “Now you.”

      The bot hummed, processing everything that has happened up till this point. How his flight for escapism had failed, how he met this creature, and how it just so willingly gave out its name to him. Like a personally address of where to find it. Though it was awfully strange, and its hand stuck out was quite the unappealing sight, the Seeker had no other clue of how to respond, and so sprung forth a simple answer.

      “You may call me Starscream. Now, tell me about your little home.”

      And in turn, Skyfire smiled. “Of course! But only if you tell me everything about you and where you come from in return!”

my friends and i made a selfindulgent little au where the autobots are humans and decepticons cybertronians so have human!skyfire meeting starscream (made him armada ver. cause i can)

[wonder-innie]

this is my first time request but i was wondering if you could make a fluff/smut oneshot on reader and lee know being in the same friend group but reader starts messaging him to get to know him once they realise they have a crush on him. he eventually finds out that they have a crush and keeps prodding to find out clues as to who it could be but then reader doesn’t give in so easily. you can give it whatever kind of ending…

so obvious, so clueless

lee know x fem!reader. fluff

word count: 3.3k

a.n: tysm for the request! i loved writing this.

a.n 2: english is not my first language. check my masterlist

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Lee Know and you had always been part of the same friend group, and making plans one-on-one with any of them was never a problem… except when it came to him. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea; it was just that your relationship with him wasn’t as strong as it was with the others.

One night, all your friends got too drunk, except for you and Lee Know. With nothing else to do, the two of you started talking, and to your surprise, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You felt comfortable with him in a way you never had before. At one point, he let out a bright, genuine laugh, his smile practically lighting up the room. You had seen him smile before, but somehow, this time, it felt different, like you were seeing it for the first time. It was the prettiest smile you had ever seen. Before you knew it, you found yourself searching for the best jokes just to make him smile again. You weren’t sure why.

Days passed, yet that moment lingered in your mind, how easy it was to talk to him, how comfortable you felt, and… how handsome he was. You started stalking him on Instagram more often, to the point where you practically had his pictures memorized. Each time you saw his face, your heart raced, and that’s when it hit you. You had a crush on him.

You tried to ignore it, pushing the feelings away whenever they surfaced. What if it ruined your friendship? Worse… what if it affected the whole group? Some nights, when you couldn’t sleep, your mind wandered to the possibilities. If you two started dating and it didn’t work out… would everything fall apart? You didn’t want to be the reason your group broke up.

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A week later, you wanted to talk to him so badly that you couldn’t help but send him a message, ignoring all your second thoughts. You opened his chat, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. After a few minutes of overthinking, you decided to keep it simple.

“Heyy.”

Lee Know replied half an hour later, asking how your day had been. And just like that, the conversation started flowing, just like it had that night. He told you about his cats and even sent you a few pictures of them. They were adorable.

“They took their cuteness after their owner,” you typed without thinking twice.

The moment you hit send, you froze. Your eyes widened as realization hit… you had just sent him a pick up line with him. Unintentionally.

You gasped, heart pounding, suddenly regretting your words. But then, his reply popped up.

A single laughing emoji.

You sighed in relief when you saw that he hadn’t taken it as a serious attempt to flirt. At least, you hoped he hadn’t.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You and Lee Know had been texting for weeks, growing closer with each conversation. At some point, you even started sending what you both called “good morning selfies” (pictures of each other as soon as you woke up, looking as awful as possible). Well… at least that was the goal. Lee Know looked effortlessly handsome in every single one.

When Felix’s birthday came around, he invited the whole group to his place to celebrate. You felt a wave of nervous excitement, this would be the first time seeing Lee Know face-to-face after all those late-night chats. Wanting to look your best, you put on your prettiest dress and put extra effort into your makeup.

At Felix’s house, you greeted everyone with a hug, one by one. When it was Lee Know’s turn, your nerves spiked, but you didn’t hesitate. He smelled amazing. His cologne was deep, musky, and completely intoxicating. He was wearing a simple shirt and jeans—nothing particularly trendy—but to you, he had never looked better. Why did everything about him have to be so effortlessly perfect?

You didn’t get a chance to talk to him in private until later that night when Felix announced it was “movie time.” Settling onto the couch, you took a seat near the corner. You weren’t expecting Lee Know to sit beside you. It caught you off guard, but you weren’t about to complain.

Felix pressed play, and the movie began…a romcom. You hated romcoms. You always thought they were ridiculously predictable.

A few minutes in, Lee Know leaned close to whisper in your ear.

“This movie sucks.”

You stifled a laugh, turning your head toward him.

“I know, right? But we’re watching it for Felix… so be quiet.” You nudged him lightly before focusing back on the screen.

Of course, Lee Know wasn’t going to just sit there and behave. That wasn’t in his nature.

He suddenly blew softly against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps erupted across your skin.

“Don’t do that!” you hissed, glaring at him.

He grinned. “I’m boreeed. Entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want me to do? Pull a bunny out of my magical hat?”

His soft laughter sent a spark through your chest. “Yes, please. I’ve never seen a magician before.”

You let out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll entertain you by roasting this horrible movie, then.”

He smirked. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

After a brief glance at the screen, you blurted out, “Noah Centineo’s acting is so fucking cringe it makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a damn spoon.”

Lee Know covered his mouth to stifle his laugh, his shoulders shaking. He leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with amusement. “God, I love the way your brain works.”

Lee Know leaned in again, his breath warm against your ear. “I swear, if they make the couple kiss in the rain, I’m walking out.”

You snorted, whispering back, “Oh, you just know it’s coming. Probably with some dramatic speech about ‘fate’ too.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Yeah, because nothing says true love like pneumonia.”

As the movie dragged on, you and Lee Know kept whispering back and forth, throwing sarcastic comments at every overused trope. It was like no one else was in the room.

At one point, the main characters had a dramatic breakup scene, and Lee Know sighed, shaking his head. “Three… two… one… and cue the sad montage.”

Right on time, the screen faded into a heartbroken protagonist staring out of a rainy window.

You stifled a laugh. “I hate how predictable this is.”

“Right? It’s like they copy and paste the same script every time.”

As you both chuckled softly, what you didn’t notice were the lingering glances from your friends.

Felix, sipping his drink, nudged Seungmin with his elbow and tilted his head toward you two. “Are they always like this?” he whispered.

Seungmin smirked. “Nope. This is new.”

Han, sprawled on the floor with a pillow under his head, wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing some serious chemistry over there.”

Felix nodded subtly, watching as Lee Know leaned in to whisper something else in your ear, making you giggle. “Yeah… they’re in their own little world.”

Changbin, who had been watching quietly, grinned. “Should we say something?”

Felix shook his head. “Nah. Let’s see how long it takes them to notice.”

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to your friends’ knowing looks, you and Lee Know were still locked into your conversation.

Lee Know sighed dramatically. “If they don’t end up together in the dumbest way possible, I’ll be disappointed.”

You smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s definitely about to show up at her wedding and confess his love in front of everyone.”

Lee Know groaned. “God, I hope he gets rejected. Just once. Just for the plot twist.”

You snickered. “You’re asking for too much.”

At that moment, a new song started playing over the movie’s emotional climax. Lee Know made a face. “Oh great. Cue the emotional acoustic song.”

The movie’s final scene cut to black eventually, and the lights flicked on.

You stretched your arms and sighed, ready to make another sarcastic remark, when you noticed something strange, your friends were all staring at you and Lee Know.

You blinked. “Uh… what?”

Felix cleared his throat, quickly looking away. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Seungmin coughed into his fist. “Yeah, just… interesting movie, huh?”

Han smirked but said nothing, exchanging a glance with Changbin.

You frowned, confused, but shrugged it off. Meanwhile, Lee Know stretched beside you, completely unbothered.

The night eventually came to an end. As you were about to leave, Seungmin casually stepped beside you, hands tucked into his pockets.

“So… you like Lee Know, huh?”

You nearly choked on air. “W-What?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious.”

Your face heated up instantly. You glanced around, making sure no one else was paying attention before whispering, “Okay, fine. Maybe. A little.”

Seungmin scoffed. “A little? You were in your own little world with him the entire night.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters. He probably doesn’t—”

“He does.” Seungmin cut you off, looking at you like you were an idiot. “Y/N, the rest of us can see it. And if we can, you seriously think he doesn’t feel the same?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You think so?”

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head with a small smirk. “I don’t think. I know.”

And with that, he patted your shoulder and walked off, leaving you standing there, replaying his words in your head.

Maybe… just maybe, he was right.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

A few weeks later, your friend group planned a beach day. The plan was to leave early in the morning—around 6 or 7 AM—so they’d be picking you up at your place.

When the car arrived, you climbed in, greeted everyone sleepily, and settled into your seat. You ended up sitting next to Lee Know.

Still groggy from waking up so early, you leaned your head against the window, trying to get comfortable for the long drive. But just as you started to relax, Lee Know nudged your arm.

“So… I heard something interesting the other day.”

You blinked, turning to him. “What?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Seungmin told me you have a crush on someone.”

Your stomach dropped. That traitor.

You kept your expression neutral, playing it cool. “Oh? And you believe everything Seungmin says?”

Lee Know narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not buying it. “So it’s not true?”

You hesitated for half a second too long.

His smirk widened. “It is true.”

You groaned, turning your head away. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

But Lee Know was relentless. “Come on, just tell me who it is.”

You shook your head. “Nope. It’s a secret.”

He huffed, pretending to be offended. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

Lee Know gasped dramatically. “Unbelievable. I thought we were close.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We are, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything.”

For the rest of the car ride, Lee Know kept trying to get you to spill.

“Is it someone from our friend group?”

“Do I know them?”

“Oh my god, is it Felix?”

You ignored most of his questions, dodging them with vague answers or simply changing the subject. No matter how persistent he was, you refused to give in.

And by the time you finally arrived at the beach, Lee Know still had no clue who your crush was.

But that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to find out.

After arriving at the beach, your group got to work setting everything up; planting umbrellas in the sand, spreading out towels, and placing a cooler filled with beers in the middle of your little setup. The sun was already blazing, and the sound of waves crashing mixed with the laughter of your friends as they ran toward the water.

You had worn your bikini under your clothes, so without much thought, you grabbed the hem of your oversized T-shirt and pulled it over your head, quickly slipping out of your shorts.

What you didn’t expect was Lee Know’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him freeze. His entire body stiffened, and he quickly turned his head to the side, his ears turning red. He was flustered.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. Was he really that shy just from seeing you in a bikini? Seeing that reaction made your heart beat faster, looked so cute.

Trying to act casual, you grabbed your bottle of sunscreen and began applying it to your arms and legs. But when it came to your back, you hesitated. Your friends were already running toward the ocean, leaving only one person behind.

Lee Know.

You turned to him, holding up the sunscreen bottle. “Hey… can you help me with my back?”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at you.

“M-Me?”

You nodded. “Unless you want me to ask a total stranger?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes before snatching the bottle from your hand. “Fine, turn around.”

You turned your back to him, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. A few seconds later, his hands pressed against your back, spreading the cool sunscreen across your shoulders.

You swallowed. His touch was… soft.

His hands moved slowly, spreading the lotion over your shoulder blades, down to the middle of your back. You felt the way his fingers hesitated for a split second before gliding lower, rubbing the sunscreen into your skin with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

You liked it.

Your heartbeat picked up as his fingers pressed a little firmer, the warmth of his hands contrasting against the chill of the lotion. For a moment, it felt almost… intimate.

Lee Know cleared his throat behind you. “There. Done.”

You turned to face him, noticing the faint pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly handed you back the bottle, avoiding your gaze.

You took it with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded, still refusing to meet your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t get sunburned.”

You chuckled softly before turning toward the ocean, but you could still feel the lingering warmth of his hands on your skin.

The day went by normally, filled with laughter, splashes in the ocean, and the warmth of the sun against your skin. You and your friends had lunch right there on the beach, passing around sandwiches and drinks as the waves crashed nearby.

And throughout the day, Lee Know kept trying to get information out of you.

Every once in a while, he’d lean in, his voice teasing yet curious. “So… are you sure you don’t want to tell me?”

You’d simply shake your head, smiling innocently. “Nope.”

This game continued all afternoon. Every time he thought he was getting close, you dodged the question. Your friends, however, had started catching on.

Felix, Seungmin, and Han exchanged amused glances, whispering among themselves every time Lee Know tried (and failed) to get you to confess. He was completely oblivious to what was right in front of him.

Then, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Felix suddenly clapped his hands together.

“We should go get more beer.”

The others instantly caught on.

“Yeah, good idea,” Han said, already standing up.

Changbin stretched, “Let’s go before the store closes.”

One by one, they all got up, casually dusting the sand off their clothes.

You blinked. “…Wait, all of you are going?”

Felix grinned, “Yeah, why not?” Then, with a very obvious look between you and Lee Know, he added, “We’ll be back soon. Enjoy the sunset.”

Before you could protest, they were already walking away, leaving you alone with Lee Know.

A heavy silence settled between you two.

For the first time all day, he didn’t say anything.

The sound of the waves filled the quiet space, and you focused on the horizon, watching the sun sink lower. But then…

Lee Know let out a long sigh.

“Just tell me who it is. The suspense is killing me.”

You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the ocean. “I can’t tell you, Lee Know.”

“Why not?” He turned to fully face you, his brows furrowed. “Don’t you trust me? I thought we were friends.”

Friends.

That word hit you like a knife straight to the chest.

A mix of emotions… your feelings for him, the pressure he was putting on you, the fear of ruining your friendship, of breaking your friend group… it all exploded at once.

Before you could stop them, tears welled up in your eyes and started spilling down your cheeks.

You quickly stood up, turning away from him as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. You needed space.

Lee Know immediately noticed your shift in mood, and his voice softened.

“Hey… I’m sorry.” His tone was full of regret. “I didn’t mean to push you so much. I just—” He sighed again, more frustrated with himself than anything. “I need to know.”

Slowly, you turned back around, and when he saw your tear-streaked face, his eyes widened in alarm.

“You’re an idiot!” You snapped, voice shaking. “Do you really not see it? It’s so obvious…!”

Lee Know blinked, still clueless. “I must be an idiot then, because apparently, I’m the only one in our group who hasn’t figured it out.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief before finally, finally saying the words you had been holding in for weeks.

“It’s you, idiot! You’re the one I’ve liked for almost two months now. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

A heavy silence filled the space between you two.

Lee Know stood in front of you, motionless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you stared down at the sand, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

Then, gently, he reached out and lifted your chin with his fingers.

Your breath hitched as your eyes finally met his. His gaze was intense yet unbelievably soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

With the same hand, he delicately wiped away your tears, his thumb brushing against your cheek before resting his palm there. His touch was warm, grounding.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “How am I supposed to hold back when you look beautiful even when you’re crying?”

Before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss took you completely by surprise. Your body froze for a few seconds, too shocked to react. But then—instinct took over.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his soft hair. His arms circled your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you seemed to blur.

The kiss was deep, filled with all the emotions that had been bottled up for weeks. The warmth of his lips, the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss—it all felt so right.

The sound of the waves and the golden hues of the sunset painted the perfect scene around you.

And then…

A sudden burst of cheers erupted behind you.

You both pulled apart, startled, only to find your entire friend group standing there, grinning like idiots.

Felix clapped dramatically. “Finally!”

Han smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I told you he liked you too.”

Changbin grinned, raising an imaginary glass. “A toast to the new couple! I better get invited to your wedding.”

You groaned, hiding your face in Lee Know’s chest, while he simply smirked, unfazed.

Without missing a beat, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you even closer, whispering just for you to hear.

“Guess we really were obvious, huh?”

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

a/n: thank you anon for requesting this one, I miss the hype!

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・This relationship is a balance of pure chaos and serenity.

・Astarion brings the mischief, the flirtation, and the decadent indulgences. He thrives on teasing both you and Halsin...

・Halsin is the grounding presence.

・Calm, wise, and deeply affectionate. He counters Astarion’s sharp edges with quiet strength and welcoming warmth.

・And you, well you’re the anchor between them

・Sometimes siding with Astarion in his playful antics and other times melting into Halsin’s steady, nurturing embrace.

・Halsin, as the druid, is deeply in tune with nature, and his personality reflects that harmony.

・He is understanding, compassionate, and protective, with a natural inclination to support and nurture his partners.

・Both you and As know that you can go to him with anything. Halsin is amazing at giving advice. He's wise and forgiving, and the ultimate comforting force.

・Halsin would take you and Astarion on peaceful walks through the woods, showing you the wonders of the natural world. But, you know As just has to complain...about bugs or animals...and yet really, he does enjoy these walks.

・An activity all three of you love doing is reading together. You’d take turns reading passages aloud, each of you offering a different voice, tone, or interpretation.

・These intimate moments would be filled with warmth and understanding, with occasional giggles

・Halsin wakes up at dawn—he’s an early riser

・Astarion stays curled up in bed for as long as possible, pulling you back down when you try to get up.

・Astarion craves devotion; though he won't admit it. He needs reassurance that he’s wanted for more than just his beauty or usefulness.

・Halsin, ever perceptive, makes sure Astarion is cherished with slow, patient affection, something the vampire struggles to accept at first.

・Halsin’s love is vast; just like the wilds he worships. He enjoys physical touch, holding you and Astarion both as though you are his greatest treasures. His touch is healing, protective, and reverent.

・You become their shared sanctuary; a place where Astarion can be vulnerable without fear and where Halsin can express his devotion freely.

・With Halsin’s calming presence and Astarion’s intense passion, your emotional needs would be fully met from different angles

・Despite the differences in their personalities, Halsin and Astarion would share vulnerabilities that would deepen their bond with each other and with you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Soulmates Sometimes Come In Threes

"Shut Up” (You) x “Make Me” (Astarion) x “Just Kiss Already.” (Halsin)

Makes A Mess (You) x Cleans The Mess (Halsin) x Is A Mess (Astarion)

Moon (Astarion) x Eclipse (You) x Sun (Halsin)

Thinks He’s In Charge (Astarion) x Is Actually In Charge (You) x Knows He’s Not In Charge (Halsin)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆 in this order...

Enemies to Lovers

Slow Burn Romance

Forbidden Love

Found Family

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Sex On Fire by the Midnite String Quartet

Goodnight Sweet Possums by John Powell

The River by Brian Tyler

Cherry by Lana Del Rey

To Bring You My Love by PJ Harvey

Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Astarion...well he loves building it up. He goes slow, teasing and pushing both you and Halsin to your limits.

・He thrives on making you beg...with his feather-light touch one moment and then overwhelming grasping and grabbing the next

・On the other hand, Halsin is raw - he's primal. He wants a connection; he needs to feel everything.

・Halsin needs to lose himself in the moment. With skin to skin complete contact, your sweat-slick bodies tangled together.

・Astarion owns the night with his sinful ways. Whispering dirty, teasing words until you're both desperate and at his mercy.

・And, Halsin owns the morning. With lazy, deep thrusts while you're warmed by the sun. His lips whisper sweet words of devotion.

・Astarion has a love for control. He pins you down, biting, leaving marks that only fade because of Halsin's magic. (This annoys As to no end).

・Halsin on the other hand is a force of nature. He lets As have his fun. Lets him play his games...but when he's ready to take over? No more games.

・And when Halsin finally takes control? Gods help Astarion. Pinned down, breath stolen, utterly undone.

・Halsin talks you through it, telling you how good you're doing. How pretty you look underneath him.

・Astarion is a little more mean; making you beg and plead for him.

[thewitchblue]

"Stop stealing my shit."

Jason said as he yanks his favourite hoodie from Dick's hands. Everybody comes by his apartment and steals something for the road. He had assumed this sibling habit would stop when he moved out, but apparently, that is not the case.

Dick, undeterred, continued to riffle through his closet. The apartment looked too lively in the past couple of months. It looked like people actually live here and not Jason's usual barren home. Dick held up one of your plushies and examined it. Jason said aggressively,

"That's not even mine! Put it back!"

Dick huffed. Jason used to have a stuffed animal that he dragged everywhere back in his early Robin days, so Dick could totally believe Jason having a plushie collection in secret.

"I knew my little birdie is still in there."

Dick smiled as he held the plushie. It was a fluffy polar bear that looked like it was used regularly. The image of Jason holding a small bear to fall asleep with was too cute for Dick not to feel the familiar joy little Jason used to bring him. His baby brother is still his baby brother! Underneath all that rage, Jason is still the 12 year old kid who wants love.

"Honey, I'm hooooome!"

Dick heard a voice call out dramatically like a 1950s sitcom. You were putting away your coat and humming softly when Tim casually climbed into your house through your living room window. He stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to proceed after climbing through the window and spotting you. This is an awkward way to meet his brother's significant other. You screeched when you noticed him and smashed a lamp on his head. He cursed his silent footsteps as he stumbled back. Five seconds ago, you were humming Singing in The Rain, and now you have an injured vigilante on your doorstep.

"You alright, munchkin?"

Jason called out as he managed to finally take the bear from Dick's grubby little hands. The white fur wasn't covered in Gotham's dirt, thankfully, but now he was angry.

You were quiet for a suspicious amount of time, so he couldn't fight Dick the way he wanted to. He went to the living room to find you cleaning up shards of glass while Tim awkwardly plucked out shards from his hair. His head hurt, but he didn't complain, and you didn't apologise.

Neither brother knew what to do around you. Dick wants answers. He will get to the bottom of this.

"How long have you been together?

Dick asked when he got over the initial shock. He needed to know everything. Tim is the one to answer,

"Four years, yes, they know about Red Hood, they've lived together for a few months now and recently got engaged."

You nodded to confirm everything while throwing away the glass. It was weird that Tim knew everything about your relationship, but you didn't really care in the moment. You sighed and lay on the couch after putting away the broom and dustpan. You need a nap, not guests.

Dick was hung up on the word engaged. It's one thing to keep a secret partner, but a secret fiancée hurts his big brother ego. Was Jason going to get married before he ever met you? Dick was frustrated. He asked,

"What was the plan? To never show us your partner?"

You lazily took Jason's hand in yours. You remained in your comfortable position on the couch, but you wanted to show your silent support. You were willing to do whatever makes Jason comfortable.

Jason lightly squeezed your hand in gratitude. He knew they would adore you and steal your attention at every possible chance. Why would he tell them about you? They would all be insufferable. He said flatly,

"It wasn't a secret. Replacement found out about it."

Dick was still mad, but now he turned to Tim with a look of betrayal. He just remembered that Tim was the one to answer his earlier question. He asked Tim,

"You never thought to tell me?"

Tim shrugged and replied,

"It was good blackmail in the beginning."

You laughed despite the tension growing in the room. Tim found out within the third week of your relationship. Master detective indeed.

He knew something was different. Jason wasn't as aggressive nor as self-destructive. He started to pull his punches in their spars, and he stopped bullying everybody. He either had six months left to live and wanted to make amends, or there was something or someone in his life fixing him.

Dick didn't like that excuse, but it made sense to Tim. Why wouldn't he blackmail Jason? He has dirt on everyone, even Bruce. Jason was livid at the time, but Tim held him back by threatening to leak the relationship to the press.

Jason sat on the armrest of the couch you were lying on and kissed the back of your hand gently. He wouldn't care if people knew now, but he admittedly wanted to selfishly keep you to himself. Jason asked,

"Why does it matter?"

Dick was malfunctioning. Why does it matter? How does it not matter? These are huge steps in life, and he missed them? He was going to miss his little brother's wedding! What's next? Adopting kids from Crime Alley? Dick was speechless.

Jason just wants them out of his house. He always hates when they show up randomly, but it's even worse now that he has someone waiting for him at home. You had clashing schedules up until now, so it wasn't a huge problem with their random visits because he could always physically shove them out the door before you arrived home. Now that you switched shifts, you can spend a lot more quality time with him, but at the cost of his family popping in and snooping like they are right now.

You and Tim were watching from the sidelines with intrigue. If there was popcorn, you both would have a bowl. Normally, this is around the time Jason punched Dick and started a fight, but this time, Jason simply dragged Dick and the previously forgotten Tim by their shirts and stuffed them out of the window. He quickly locked the window and closed the curtains while giving them the middle finger.

You walked over to him when you noticed his irritation not leaving and wrapped him in a hug. He needs something to de-stress, and you often use sensory stimulus to keep him in the presence. You murmured softly,

"Sugar bear, it's okay."

Jason nodded. He wanted your gentle touch, but he needed to search the apartment for any stolen property. What if Dick stole your favourite plushie or Tim stole his combat knife? They are stealthy in what they steal, which is why he kept everything barren in the first place. If they can get away with it, they will do it.

Your hands run along his arms. Jason relaxed into your touch. How do you do that? What magic do you have that can calm him so efficiently? You make his loud mind silent.

"If he stole one of your plushies, I'm going to kill them both."

He said gruffly. You laughed and gently ran your fingers through his hair. You shouldn't be surprised by the clear irritation, but it really highlights the effects his family still has on him. The way he tensed when he saw Tim and you, the way he squeezed your hand a tad tighter than normal, and the way his breathing changed to calm a raising panic attack just like you taught him. You lightly kissed his shoulder before saying,

"He probably stole my Nightwing plush. I have the whole family set, you know."

Jason knows for a fact Dick would steal a Nightwing plushie if he found one in Jason's home. He can already see it in Dick's apartment. It would probably be next to his bed as a trophy, teasing Jason and daring him to try to reclaim it.

He casually reached for one of his guns and loaded it. You lightly hit his arm and scolded,

"I can always buy a new plushie. You can't buy a new brother."

Jason raised an eyebrow. He definitely could buy a new brother. He could bring Bruce an orphan and his baby fever would take over. What's Bruce going to do if Jason shows up with a baby who was recently orphaned? Adopt them, of course.

"You underestimate Bruce's baby fever. He would adopt the whole orphanage if he could fit them all in the manor."

You shook your head with amusement in your eyes. You pointed out,

"You would become the eldest if he was killed. All your brothers would go to you for advice on life experiences."

Jason sighed and put the gun away. Fine. You win this round. He doesn't want to deal with his family any more than he has to anyway. He pulled you into a calming kiss. It soothed his aggression instantaneously. He practically melts into your arms. He is excited to spend his life with you.

Your beautiful boyfriend may be rough around the edges, but you love the chips and scratches.

[fanbasetwo]

Ꮺ . , THROUGH UPS & DOWNS , L.CY !

PAIRING: bf ! anton × gf ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: you always managed to pull yourself up out of breakdowns or sadder parts of life but you never once imagined someone creating a fuss to take care of you through your downs. [REQUESTED] . . . . . . GENRE: #comfort core, fic. WORD COUNT: 1k [LIBRARY]

You and Anton have been together for years, long enough to trust him with everything—well, almost everything. Moving in together felt right at the time, but lately, you’ve been questioning whether that was a mistake. Some days are good, some are bad, but the worst ones? The ones like today? Those are the hardest because you don’t even have the energy to pretend you’re okay.

Maybe it’s the fact that no matter how many job applications you send, no one seems to want you. Maybe it’s that sinking feeling that you’re not just struggling—you’re a burden. No, scratch that. You are a burden. Full stop.

Still, you push yourself to keep going. Just one foot in front of the other. You grip the door handle, take a shaky breath, and step inside.

Anton is there, standing in the middle of the living room like he’s been waiting for you. His face lights up when he sees you, but that stupidly proud smile of his only makes everything worse. How the hell can he still look at you like that when you’re contributing nothing?

“Hey…” His voice is soft, but his brows pinch together in concern. “You look—uh, kind of out of it. You okay?”

And that’s it. That’s the last fucking straw.

Your bag slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud as you practically throw yourself at him. Your arms wrap around his torso, your face burying into his chest as the sobs hit you full force. Ugly, shaking, can’t-breathe kind of crying.

Anton doesn’t even flinch. No awkward hesitation, no stiff pat on the back like he’s comforting a coworker or some shit. His arms immediately close around you, holding you tight like he’s physically trying to keep you from falling apart.

“Hey, hey… Shh, I got you,” he soothes, rubbing slow circles into your back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But all you can focus on is how your breathing is coming in short, shaky bursts, how your fingers are gripping his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.

What fcks you up the most, though? The fact that he doesn’t care. Not in a bad way, but in a way that makes your chest ache. You’re standing here, falling apart—messy, broken, so not okay—and yet, he’s holding you like you’re still worth something. Like he’d do this a thousand times over if it meant you didn’t have to go through it alone.

And maybe… just maybe… that’s enough for now.

“C’mere, let’s sit and talk, yeah? Nothing’s wrong, especially when I’m here.”

Anton doesn’t wait for you to agree—he just scoops you up like you weigh nothing, and you cling to him like a damn koala, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. He settles onto the couch, pulling you onto his lap, but before you can bury yourself back into his chest, he gently tilts your face up, wiping away your tears with his thumb. Not that it does much, since they just keep coming.

You sniffle, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t find a job… And I don’t want to stay financially dependent on you. I don’t want to be a burden. Everybody’s so mean. Jiah won’t even talk to me anymore because she thinks it’s embarrassing to be seen with me.” Your voice cracks, but you force the words out anyway. “Are you… Are you embarrassed of me too?”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his hands steady on your waist, his eyes soft but serious. And then, instead of answering, he leans in and kisses you. Slow, deep, like he’s trying to get you to shut up in the most effective way possible. His lips move against yours in a way that makes your heart stumble in your chest, and when he finally pulls back, you’re breathless and blinking at him like an idiot.

Anton smirks a little, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “First of all,” he starts, his voice firm but warm, “just because you aren’t getting a job right now doesn’t mean you’re dumb. It just means there aren’t enough of them. That’s not your fault. Second, you are not a burden to me. But since I know how much this is bothering you, why don’t you look for something temporary? Editing, content writing—there are tons of online jobs that could work until you figure out what you really want to do.”

He pauses, letting that sink in before he continues. “And Jiah? That’s her problem, not yours. She should be embarrassed of herself for acting like that. I’m just proud that my baby spoke up about it.”

It’s a lot. A mix of advice, comfort, and pure tonie logic, but somehow, it actually helps. You feel… lighter. Like maybe the weight on your chest isn’t crushing you as much.

And just when you think you couldn’t feel more relieved, he adds, “Besides, I’m gonna marry you anyway, whether you’re ‘successful’ or not, no matter what other people think.”

You blink at him. “Wait, what?”

Anton just grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head like he didn’t just casually say something that could actually give you a mini heart attack. “You heard me.”

Your heart is a mess—pounding, fluttering, tripping over itself—but his hands are steady as he cups your face, wiping away the lingering tears with his thumbs. His touch is so gentle, it makes your chest ache in a different way.

“Does it feel better now?” he murmurs. “Now you know… sharing is way better than keeping it all bottled up?”

You sigh, letting your head rest against his chest, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah,” you admit, voice quiet but honest. “I think… I think I’ll share every time I feel sad from now on.”

Anton hums, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You better,” he mutters. “Because I’ll always be here for my pretty girl.”

He tightens his arms around you, rocking you gently like it’s the easiest thing in the world to hold you together when you feel like falling apart. And for the first time in a while, you actually believe it.

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SENA’S NOTE : this is the second and third idea mixed together and might not have been a perfect execution of the request.. but I believe it's still better than posting nothing.. so thank you for requesting. ;0;

© 2025 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

one thing that eluded me during my first watch of rgu but is something that seems pretty obvious in hindsight is the reason for the choice to make akio acting chairman instead of chairman. acting chairman implies that he's beholden to someone else for his position of authority, which at the time seemed weird to me since akio throughout the series is so obviously placed in a position of ultimate, almost mystical, power. he knows everything. all the characters are, whether aware of it or not, moving according to his plans, his desires, his goals. who could he possibly be beholden to? ohtori is his personal sphere of influence, wherein he projects himself as the supreme authority, the figure of untouchable dominance, control, and command. but it's a mistake to think that akio is in the position that he is out of solely his own ability to manipulate, coerce, and deceive, and nothing else. it's society itself that allows him to reach and keep such a position. the issue goes beyond a single individual -- even an individual like akio, who so thoroughly emblematizes the evils of patriarchy -- and is entrenched in the system as a whole. akio could never obtain and maintain the power he has in ohtori -- his territory, his hunting ground in which he lures and traps his victims -- if not for that overarching machine. it may be tempting, even comforting in a way, to blame a single individual as the root of all evil, but ultimately even akio was operating within the confines that the system imposed, because it was precisely within these confines that he was able to gain and hold the power he had. rgu gives him full accountability for his actions and conveys on no uncertain terms what a repulsive person he is while simultaneously inviting the viewer to ask: he is not acting alone, so what enables him to do this? and the answer? the cisheteropatriarchy -- the chairman of ohtori academy.

[lydiasfalling]

PINS AND NEEDLES

percy jackson x athena!reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : use of y/n, post breakup, angst, possible part two??? ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

post breakup yearning? sign me up. also i’ve never ever written athena reader cause it feels too much like writing myself and i don’t want to project but i hope u guys enjoy!!! (unedited!)

it had been exactly three weeks, two days, and six hours since you and percy jackson had broken up. now, while it pained you to admit, you missed him. your friends would tell you that you couldn’t miss him. not when you had left him the way you did. truth is, life as a demigod was hard. having no guarantees that you would even be alive tomorrow was a hard pill to swallow. it had gotten to a point where it felt wrong to give percy another weight on his back. he was already under the pressure of saving the world, he didn’t need a relationship to balance on it.

first came the arguing. it had become a staple for the recent era of your relationship. you would bring up the idea of taking a break, which he would turn down. he refused to hear you out whatsoever. then came the silent treatment. he couldn’t stand how every time you’d spoken, you would flip it back to the topic of breaking up. he thought better to just ignore the problem all together. finally, came the blow up. you two had found a rare moment of peace amongst the war. his fingered takes through your wet hair as you laid on his lap. you had again decided to bring up the topic again. the resulted in the fight. breaking up wasn’t easy, but something you saw necessary.

now, you paced in your cabin. these past few weeks had been a personal tartarus for you ( and you assumed percy, or he-who-shall-not-be-named ). every little thing reminded you of him. the smell of the lake you’d spend hours swimming in. the fields you would run through hand-in-hand. the bed you would spend hours having—well, you get the point. every corner held a memory. this realization made you want to rip your scalp clean off.

however, no matter how much you would deny it, you were still hopelessly in-love with perseus jackson. watching him from a far made you realize just how lucky you had been to call him yours. the beauty of his soul was one you wish could be captured and put in a jar for everyone to admire. the selfish part of you wanted that jar on your nightstand. you decided now was the time. you would finally leave the comfort of your cabin and venture into the camp. your siblings were sure that you were aware how many times percy had asked them about you. he told them to make sure you got proper care since he couldn’t be the one to do so. you knew he’d be happy to see you getting dressed to leave.

“y/n? you coming?” your sister had asked you. it was just about to be lunch.

“mhm. give me one moment.” the mirror showed you what you had dread seeing. heavy purple bags laid under your eyes. your cheeks seemed hollow. people would argue that you couldn’t be sad since you broke up with him, but they didn’t understand. you and percy were—by definition—joined at the hip. you did everything together. now the color had been drained out of usually exciting things.

“any day now.” you joined your sister at the doorframe, stepping out into the sun. the aroma of camp consumed your senses, putting you at a momentary state of ease. this ended soon as you felt the formalist presence of a certain brunette boy. his aura was contagious. you could feel him radiating half way across the world. however, he was unusually dull. turning around, you finally came face to face with percy.

“i. . . uh. . . hi, ang—y/n. didn’t see ya there.” even in the awkward atmosphere, he still managed to bring your shoulders down and your brows to relax.

“mhm. . .” you didn’t truly speak, scared of what would leave your mouth. you quickly turned back around and began to shuffle away. percy hand caught your wrist in record time.

“can we, ya know, talk? i don’t think i got to say my piece when everything went down.” he kept his hand on your skin, goosebumps trailing up your arm at the feeling. you ripped you arm away as if the touch had burned you.

“now’s not a great time.”

“okay, well, when is a good time?” he shifted on his heels

“sometime. . . other. . . than now?” you said, though it sounded more like a question to both of you.

“what happened?” he questioned, an exasperated look coming over his features.

“what?” you asked.

“to us! what happened to us? i mean. . .fuck, y/n. i was in love with you. scratch that. i am in love with you. and im trying really. really hard to respect your decision. but how can i? how can i walk past you every single day knowing im so beyond in love with i can’t even function? i cant even think about battle anymore. it’s you. you occupy every thought from the moment i wake up to the moment i fall to sleep. it’s painful.”

“it’s for the best.” you whispered.

“bullshit! i think you’re just scared!” his volume increased, causing other campers to turn in your direction.

“lower your voice, percy.” you smiled at everyone, hoping they would stop listening. “like i said, this really isn’t a good time.” you left soon after those words left your mouth, not allowing him any time to protest.

“y/n!” he called after you. you simply pretended not to hear it as you re-entered your cabin, slamming the door behind you.

taglist : @laufeysvalentine @cowboylikemac @lydiascabinsix @raysmayhem-72

my masterlist

[xoxorealitygalore]

Plan B 4

Jey Uso x Afro-Brazilian OC

Summary: In her thirties and single after a breakup, Hamisa decides she wants to become a mother, despite her friends' and family's objections. Unable to wait any longer, she chooses to have a baby on her own. However, she unknowingly ends up using her ex-boyfriend sperm after he drunkenly swapped her donor’s sample for his own. As Hamisa raises her child, she starts noticing striking similarities between her ex-boyfriend and her baby, leading to questions about the true origins of her child's conception.

Plan B Masterlist

Taglist: @xbriexx @christinabae @blackchickinthedesert @princess-saki1 @skyesthebomb @raya-hunter01 @theusotwinzcom @yana3sworld

Previous

Joshua’s hand trembled as he held the envelope, the heavy weight of uncertainty pressing against his chest. It had been three long days since he submitted his DNA test, seeking the truth he wasn’t quite ready to face. The envelope before him, with the crisp official stamp of DNA Diagnostics Center (DDC), seemed to taunt him with its potential to change everything. He had spent the past few days replaying the possibilities in his mind, but he already knew, deep down, what the answer would be.

His thoughts drifted to Jhream, the eight-month-old baby girl whose tiny face had stolen his heart at first sight. She had come into his life under unexpected circumstances, and now, a part of him was bracing for confirmation of his fatherhood. Despite his certainty, the paper in his hand felt like a lifeline that could either confirm his role in her life or pull it away entirely. He had always suspected that the baby’s striking features mirrored his own, from the dark curls that framed her face to the sharp glint in her eyes that reminded him so much of his own. But confirmation, that solid, irrefutable truth was what he needed now.

His mind buzzed with an unnerving cocktail of emotions: anxiety, excitement, and fear. He had to open it. He had to know. Without wasting another moment, he tore open the envelope, his fingers running over the cold, official seal like an anchor holding him in place. As he unfolded the paper, his breath hitched.

There it was, in black-and-white: the statement from DDC. It was not an exclusion; it was confirmation. “The alleged father is not excluded as the biological father of the tested child,” it read. “There is a 99.9 percent probability that Joshua S. Fatu is the biological father of Jhream M. Woo.” A wave of overwhelming relief and excitement surged through him, settling deep in his chest like a comfort he hadn’t even known he needed. His heart raced, and a smile tugged at his lips. He was her father. It was official.

With a new burst of energy, he grabbed his phone and dialed Hamisa’s number. The phone rang once, then twice, before she answered. Before she could say a word, Joshua’s voice rushed through the phone, carrying an excitement he couldn’t contain.

“Hamisa, you need to change her last name to Fatu,” he said, the words almost spilling out in his haste. There was no hesitation in his voice, no second-guessing the decision. This was it, he was all in.

On the other end of the line, Hamisa’s exasperated sigh could be heard before she burst into laughter. “You’re bold! I can't believe I have to share a child with you!” she screamed into the phone, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. Joshua could hear the frustration laced in her tone. She had never quite forgiven him for the circumstances that had brought them together, but they were bound by a common thread now. Jhream was their child.

Joshua’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. “I know you're upset, but we have to make this work for our daughter. We’re in this together now,” he said, his voice softer, more earnest. This was a turning point. There was no turning back now, not for him, not for Hamisa, and certainly not for Jhream.

But before he could say more, there was a click. Hamisa had hung up. Joshua chuckled, a small, bemused laugh escaping his lips as he stared at his phone. As he expected, a message from Hamisa popped up almost immediately. It was short, witty, and just a touch sarcastic: Jhream Woo Fatu has a nice ring to it.

Joshua read the message and laughed again, shaking his head. It was as if the tension had momentarily dissolved, leaving only the playful exchange that seemed to define their relationship. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions that had come with the situation, there was a connection between them, one that would forever be tied to the little girl they had both brought into the world.

As he put his phone down, his thoughts shifted to his twin brother, Jonathan. The news had to be shared with him, too, he had been there through everything, the good and the bad. Jonathan, ever the supportive sibling, would want to know that the paternity test had confirmed what they both had suspected all along. Joshua tapped Jonathan’s number into his phone with a sense of urgency. The call rang twice before Jonathan answered.

“What’s up, man?” Jonathan’s voice was warm, full of that familiar tone of brotherly comfort that Joshua had come to rely on.

“I’m the father,” Joshua said, his voice steady, though the excitement was still apparent in his tone. “It’s official. I’m Jhream’s dad.”

Jonathan paused, a beat of silence hanging between them. Then, as if the words had sunk in, Jonathan’s voice came through, full of genuine happiness for his brother. “I’m happy for you, man. But let me tell you, this better be the last time you ever hijack somebody’s sperm and do some BS like this again.” Jonathan’s playful teasing followed by a chuckle made Joshua roll his eyes. Even as an adult, his twin brother was never short of words when it came to poking fun.

Joshua rolled his eyes in return, even though Jonathan couldn’t see him. “I was drunk,” Joshua muttered, shaking his head in mock disbelief at himself. There were no excuses for the situation, but in a way, it didn’t matter. What mattered now was that they had a daughter, his daughter. And that was all that mattered to him.

As Joshua sat there, leaning against the cold elevator wall, the weight of his decision finally began to settle in. This was his life now. But Joshua also knew that this was only the beginning. The road ahead would be complicated. The dynamics between him and Hamisa had always been tense, and now, with the added responsibility of parenthood, it was only going to get more complicated. He could already hear Hamisa’s voice in his head, accusing him of meddling too much, of not thinking things through, of being reckless in a way that only he could be. But as much as they clashed, they were bound by their daughter. And he was determined to make this work, for her.

He thought about his upbringing, how different it had been, how fractured his relationship with his father was. He didn’t want that for Jhream. He didn’t want her to grow up in a world where she wondered who her father was, or whether he cared. He would show her, day in and day out, that he was there. His past would not be hers.

After hanging up with Jonathan, Joshua stood up straighter, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders like a mantle. He had to be the man he had never quite figured out how to be, someone who was present, responsible, and most of all, reliable. For Jhream, he had to change. He had to become more than he had ever been, and there was no question in his mind that he was ready for the challenge.

His fingers brushed the edge of the envelope again, feeling the smooth paper against his skin. His life had just shifted. There was no going back. But despite the unknowns, despite the complexities that lay ahead, there was an undeniable certainty in his heart. He was her father, and nothing could change that.

uceyjucey 2h

Joshua scrolled through his phone in the quiet of the morning, the sun just beginning to pierce through the blinds. The notifications were relentless. His name and Hamisa’s were trending on social media. He had become accustomed to the digital frenzy that sometimes swirled around his life, but today was different.

The usual noise felt louder, more intrusive.

It wasn’t just him but Hamisa was caught in the web of scrutiny too, and it was all because of their daughter, Jhream. A photo he had posted hours ago, a simple one of his baby girl picking something off the floor, was the spark that set everything ablaze.

Joshua’s fingers hovered over the screen as he read the comments, some questioning the paternity of Jhream, others spewing venom about Hamisa. He didn’t care about the shots people took at him, he had weathered that for years. But when it came to the people he loved, his daughter, the woman he shared a child with, that was something entirely different. He couldn’t stand idly by while people trashed Hamisa or tried to cast doubt on the paternity of his child.

The article that had sparked the fire had been ridiculous, full of assumptions and idle speculation. It had suggested the most absurd scenarios, each more damaging than the last. Joshua wasn’t about to let them tarnish his family’s reputation. He posted a new photo of Jhream, one where you couldn’t quite see her face, but you could tell it was her, just barely.

A quiet statement of “this is my child,” it was enough to make the internet jump to conclusions, immediately speculating that Joshua was indeed the father, and just like that, the narrative was set.

Was it messy? Absolutely. Did he care? Not in the slightest. He had spent the last few months adjusting to his new role as a father, learning about the precious little girl who had come into his life and made everything brighter. He was protective of her, of Hamisa, and of their relationship. He would stand by them, no matter what the world had to say. No one was going to get away with dragging his family through the mud.

As he set his phone down, his screen buzzing again, he glanced across the room, his mind still racing. It was Hamisa calling. Her voice was sharp but familiar when he answered.

“Why would you do that?” she asked, sounding more tired than angry. “You couldn’t just ignore it, could you?”

Joshua let out a deep breath. He was prepared for this conversation. “Hamisa, that’s my daughter. I don’t care what the tabloids are saying, I wasn’t going to just let them insinuate anything about you or Jhream. You know I’m not going to stand by and let people disrespect my family.”

Hamisa fell silent for a moment. He could hear her breathing on the other end, the frustration settling into something softer. “I get it, I do. But you didn’t have to make it public like that.”

He wasn’t going to back down, though. “It wasn’t just public, it was necessary. You and Jhream are mine, and no one is going to try to rewrite that story. Not while I’m breathing.”

The quiet stretch between them felt like it lasted an eternity. Finally, Hamisa spoke again, her voice quieter. “I know. But still, you didn’t even let the ink dry on her name change before you started acting like this.”

Joshua chuckled softly. “I’m not going to apologize for claiming my own child.”

There was a pause on the line before she spoke again, a resigned chuckle escaping her lips. “Okay, okay. Just... don’t make it worse, alright? I’m already trying to handle everything on my end.”

Joshua couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. “I’m just getting started. Jeyce is setting up a whole photoshoot for her right now. We're about to have a Daddy-Daughter photoshoot in here.”

“I can’t wait to see that,” Hamisa said, a laugh in her voice. “You’re ridiculous.”

Joshua hung up, but he wasn’t fazed by the tension in her words. This was his family, and he was committed to making sure the world knew exactly who they were. He turned back to the living room, his gaze settling on his daughter. She was sitting on the floor, babbling happily, her tiny hands swatting at her toys as she looked up at Jeyce, who was busy arranging the makeshift photoshoot setup. Joshua walked over, snapping a few pictures as he did.

Just as he was about to adjust the camera, the front door opened, and in walked his cousin Joe, followed by his twin brother, Jonathan. They both entered with the easy familiarity of family, grinning at the scene in front of them.

“Uce got him a daughter now, and he don’t know how to act,” Jonathan teased, smirking as he watched Joshua play with Jhream.

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I thought Hamisa would’ve put up more of a fight before letting you have her like this. She’s a mama bear, you know?”

Joshua shrugged, his attention still on Jhream. “She knows how I am with my sons. Why wouldn’t she trust me with our daughter?”

Jhream let out a squeal, reaching out to Joshua. He scooped her up, holding her carefully in his arms, and both Joe and Jonathan smiled at the sight.

“Hi, niecey pooh,” Joe cooed, speaking to the baby in a baby voice. “You’re trending on Twitter because your big-headed Daddy had to make sure everyone knew you belonged to him.”

Jhream started babbling, furiously.

Joshua smirked at Joe. “I think she’s cursing you out, uce. She doesn’t like that you called her daddy’s head big when yours is even bigger.”

Jeyce, still standing off to the side, rolled his eyes. “All of your heads are big.”

Jonathan feigned offense. “I have you know that I have an average-sized head.”

Jeyce snickered. “All of you have big heads. It’s just a fact.”

As Joshua playfully bounced Jhream in his arms, she reached out toward Joe, making loud baby noises. Joe grinned and gently grabbed her, holding her close.

“She makes me want to have another one,” Joe remarked, his voice light and full of humor.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Five ain’t enough for you?”

Joe shrugged. “I think I got one more in me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan said, glancing at Joe. “One more, and watch you end up with triplets.”

The room erupted in laughter, but just as the mood lightened, Jeyce walked over and showed his father something on his phone. Joshua took a moment to read the headline of the article on the screen: Jhream’s birth certificate, obtained by PEOPLE, reveals Jey Uso listed as the father.

“Damn,” Jonathan muttered, looking over Joshua’s shoulder. “When did the name change happen?”

“Two days ago,” Joshua said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “How did they get this stuff so quickly?”

“Who knows,” Jonathan replied, shaking his head. “People have ways of getting what they want.”

Jeyce, still looking at his phone, showed his dad the next part of the article, which read: Jhream Musa Woo Fatu was born on June 14, 2024, according to the birth certificate, at South Miami Hospital in Miami, Florida, at 6:14 a.m.

“Well, damn,” Joe muttered. “That’s some serious info right there. How did they get it?”

Joshua shook his head. “I don’t know. But that’s not the point. What’s important is that people know that Jhream is mine, and I’m not going to let anyone say otherwise.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “How does Hamisa feel about you claiming her so publicly?”

“I think she has mixed feelings about it,” Joshua admitted. “She’s just trying to keep things calm, and I get that. But this isn’t something I can just ignore.”

Joe nodded. “Understandable, but you’re right. It’s better that the truth comes out now instead of later, you know?”

Joshua looked down at his daughter, who was now giggling and reaching for her toys again, oblivious to the storm brewing around her. “Yeah. I’m not going to let anyone question her. Not now, not ever.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, bringing them back to the present. “Anyway, moving on, Pam Pam and Trin are planning to throw Hamisa a birthday party on Saturday. Since her birthday’s on the 14th, and you know that's Valentine’s Day, they figured it’d be easier to do it on Saturday.”

Joshua smiled. “We’re going to spoil her. She deserves it.”

Jeyce, with a playful grin, piped up from the couch. “I got enough money for a Pandora charm bracelet.”

Joe chuckled. “Okay, nephew. Ice her out.”

Joshua laughed, shaking his head.

Liked by belmirawoo, itsmebayley, dreamdoll, and 2,102,623 others

hamisawoo Happy Birthday to my beautiful big sister, my Aquarius twin, the one who knows me better than anyone else!

I can’t even begin to put into words how much I cherish our bond, and today I’m especially reflecting on all the love, laughter, and memories we’ve shared over the years. From childhood to adulthood, you’ve been my constant, always there through every high, every low, and every crazy dream I’ve had. I will never take for granted how you’ve supported me through it all.

I’ll never forget the joy of being pregnant at the same time as you. It was such a magical experience to go through that journey together. The excitement, the struggles, and the shared moments of wonder, it felt like we were living parallel lives in the best possible way. Now, seeing our girls, I can only hope that they grow up with the same kind of bond we share. The kind that is unbreakable, deep, and full of unconditional love.

Thank you, xuxuzinho, for being my rock. For believing in me, supporting my wildest goals, and accepting my craziness with open arms. You have always been my biggest cheerleader, and I am forever grateful.

Today is all about celebrating you, your heart, your spirit, and the amazing woman you are. May this year bring you as much happiness, love, and joy as you’ve brought into my life. Happy Birthday, @belmirawoo. I love you to the moon and back, forever and always.

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Hamisa stood in awe of the scene before her, her heart swelling with pride. She had been planning this day for weeks, and it was finally coming to life. The backyard, which on any other day would have been a humble stretch of grass, was now transformed into a dazzling, extravagant celebration fit for royalty. It was her older sister Belmira’s 38th birthday, and Hamisa was determined to make it an unforgettable super-luxe, super-orange-themed soirée that would leave everyone talking for years to come.

Guests were welcomed through a grand entrance beneath a glowing neon sign that read “BELMIRA” in a giant, eye-catching orange scrawl. The sign pulsed with energy, lighting up the evening air like an electric heartbeat. It was impossible to ignore. As the guests walked beneath it, they were immediately transported into a world that felt like a dream. The scene that awaited them was nothing short of magical.

The entire backyard had been transformed into a lavish oasis where every detail was bathed in shades of orange, the birthday girl's favorite color. Strings of vibrant orange flowers cascaded from the ceiling like a floral chandelier, adding a touch of whimsy to the atmosphere.

The flowers hung over an array of plush chairs and couches, all dressed in throw pillows and blankets in varying hues of orange. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms, mingling perfectly with the warm, inviting aroma of the gourmet food stations that dotted the space.

The drinks were served in sleek orange cups emblazoned with "Belmira 38" in shimmering gold letters, while paper straws topped with glamorous selfies of Belmira herself added a playful touch to each beverage.

Nearby, neon signs flashed with witty quotes from Belmira, illuminating the space and reminding everyone of her signature humor and radiant personality. Each one seemed to reflect her, from the clever quips about life and love to the bold declarations of self-confidence. The atmosphere was electric, vibrant, exuberant, and undeniably Belmira.

The dancefloor was a light-up spectacle, the lights shifting in time with the rhythm of the music, calling guests to step up and show off their best moves. Everywhere Hamisa looked, she saw smiling faces, her family, friends, and loved ones all gathered to celebrate the incredible woman who had shaped so much of her life. But the true star of the night, of course, was Belmira, and Hamisa couldn’t help but beam with pride at the sight of her sister.

Belmira stood near the center of the party, her energy infectious as she chatted with friends and family, radiating a warmth that could light up an entire room. She wore a stunning dress that shimmered with every movement, the perfect balance of glamour and sophistication. Hamisa couldn’t help but admire her. Belmira was, without a doubt, the queen of the evening. And yet, even amid all the attention, Belmira never lost her sense of humor or her down-to-earth charm.

As Hamisa surveyed the scene, she noticed Jhream crawling along the floor, laughing, dancing, and babbling as if she were the life of the party. The sight of her daughter’s joyful squeals made Hamisa’s heart swell with love. Jhream was so full of life, a true delight to everyone around her. Hamisa’s gaze shifted back to her sister.

“I can't wait for Neusa to start crawling,” Belmira said, watching Jhream with a fond smile.

Hamisa chuckled softly. “Until she starts getting into everything in the house, then you’ll wish she wasn’t crawling anymore.”

As if on cue, Jhream let out a squeal of excitement, clapping her hands in delight. At that moment, Joshua walked in, his presence unmistakable as he approached the two sisters.

“Baby girl knows how to make her daddy feel special,” Joshua said with a grin, bending down to pick up Jhream, who immediately melted into his arms with a happy coo.

Hamisa watched them fondly, her eyes softening as she observed the bond between father and daughter. It wasn’t always easy to navigate the complexities of family dynamics, especially with Joshua, but for Jhream’s sake, they were all trying to make it work.

“Happy Birthday, sis,” Joshua said, handing Belmira a gift bag with a smile.

Belmira raised an eyebrow playfully, pretending to hesitate before accepting the bag. “I don’t know if I like you again just yet,” she teased, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Hamisa rolled her eyes at the exchange. She knew that there was still some lingering tension within the family, especially between Joshua and some of the other relatives. But tonight was about celebrating Belmira, and they would all do their best to keep the peace.

“I gotta fight for my number one spot in the family again, I get it,” Joshua said, a teasing grin on his face.

“You were never number one, tell him, babe,” Belmira’s husband, Breno, chimed in with a mock glare. He had been married to Belmira for six years now.

“Now y’all both know y’all ain’t number one,” Caio, Hamisa’s older brother, added with a laugh. He always had a knack for stirring up fun chaos within the family.

“Do we like him again?” Carlacia, Breno’s ten-year-old daughter, asked, looking up at Joshua with a curious expression.

“He’s on probation,” Breno answered with a smirk, a playful warning in his voice.

“Thank you for the gift, Joshua,” Belmira said, finally accepting it with a gracious smile. She knew how to navigate the complexities of family, always keeping the atmosphere light and full of laughter, no matter the tensions.

Joshua smiled, his eyes softening as he watched Jhream rest her head on his shoulder, her small form relaxed and content.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice warm.

Just as the moment seemed to settle into peaceful harmony, Jhream yawned, her little eyes closing as she drifted off to sleep in her father’s arms.

“Okay, let’s go put her down for a nap,” Hamisa said softly, her tone gentle as she reached for Joshua’s hand.

Joshua nodded, his smile never fading as he followed Hamisa inside the house. His gaze lingered on her, a teasing grin forming on his lips.

“Thank you, Jhream, for mommy’s new curves,” he said, his voice filled with lighthearted humor.

Hamisa shot him a look over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Shut up,” she muttered, her lips twitching as if she were trying not to smile.

Joshua chuckled, his gaze still lingering on her. “Once we put her down, you gotta show me how that ass moves,” he added, his voice low and playful.

Hamisa couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “You’re insufferable.”

Together, they walked into the house, placing Jhream gently in Neusa’s crib, where the two babies would sleep side by side. The peaceful scene was a brief moment of calm before the whirlwind of the party resumed.

“Come on,” Joshua urged with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Let’s go back to the party.”

They stepped back out into the backyard, just as the bass of the music began to pulse through the air. The song “Deadly” by Stefflon Don and Victony blasted from the speakers, the upbeat rhythm filling the space with energy. Hamisa couldn’t resist. She moved to the beat, swaying and dancing against Joshua, the music becoming a thread that wove them together. He gripped her waist, his movements matching hers as they danced in perfect sync.

Hermione, Hamisa’s younger sister, couldn’t resist capturing the moment. She pulled out her phone, laughing as she pointed the camera at the couple. “Get this on film! Oh, they ain’t gonna believe this,” she said, her voice laced with amusement as she recorded them dancing together.

Hamisa and Joshua continued to move together, lost in the rhythm of the music, the moment feeling like a perfect blend of love, laughter, and family. The world outside their bubble seemed to fade, and for that brief moment, it was just the two of them, their connection as undeniable as the music that surrounded them.

Liked by marysemizanin, itsmebayley, uceyjucey, and 4,097,412 others

hamisawoo The birthday countdown begins! ✨🎉 This Valentine’s Day baby is turning 36, and I’m feeling all kinds of grateful for the journey that got me here. 🌹💖

35 was a year full of growth, transformation, and so many beautiful moments. I became a mom (a role I cherish deeply) and discovered a new level of self-love and acceptance that I never knew was possible. It’s amazing how life can surprise you when you open your heart to change and embrace every new chapter with open arms. 🌸

This past year taught me that it’s never too late to reinvent yourself, to pour into your own happiness, and to find joy in the everyday. 35 was kind to me, and now I’m ready to take on 36 with even more purpose, passion, and a whole lot of love for the person I’ve become. 💫

I can’t wait to see what this next chapter has in store. Here’s to more growth, more adventures, and more moments that make my heart full. Cheers to 36 and everything it will bring! 🎂💕

#BirthdayCountdown #ValentineBaby #SelfLove #NewBeginnings #GratefulHeart

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[pandaofsecrets]

This convo got me thinking about how Ozai being a good parent and husband would actually be like (and how little that would actually change things), so here's the basics of the AU. It follows comics continuity because I think it's more impactful that way, and also because I really don't want to write two AUs for the price of one.

Okay, so first of all, how do we get here? Let's say that instead of Ozai becoming narcissistic as a coping mechanism (unlikely, but bear with me), he just kinda gives up trying to "prove his worth" and distances himself from his father and brother, distrusting them and trying to avoid their attention as much as he can.

Anyway, Azulon hears about the prophecy and wants Ozai married to Ursa, which. So much for not attracting attention. Azulon's logic here is that while he does want those strong firebenders, he doesn't want any of Roku's line to actually inherit the throne. So, marrying Ursa to his out-of-favor second son it is.

Needless to say, neither Ozai nor Ursa are exactly jazzed about the marriage. They're both essentially forced into it, and Ursa was already seeing someone, thank you very much. But they both figure that it's for the good of their country and that they can't really leave anyway, so they might as well try to make it work. Ozai works to make Ursa as comfortable as possible, and she cooperates with him as much as she can. A few months or so into the marriage, Ursa is pregnant with Zuko.

This is when Ursa notices that no one is replying to her letters. No one at all. Not Ikem, not her friends, and not even her parents. Like, she knows mail is slow, but it's been almost half a year at this point. Her parents at least should've written back by now. So, she does a little detective work, and puts together that Ozai is intercepting her letters.

Unsurprisingly, Ursa is pissed. She'd just begun to like Ozai, and he went and tore her heart into confetti. Incredibly betrayed (and also hormonal as all fuck), Ursa comes up with the very smart idea of writing a letter to Ikem in which she pretty much confesses to cheating on Ozai, reasoning that would hurt him pretty bad.

As Ursa expected, Ozai gets the letter and barges into the room, demanding to know what the hell she was thinking. "I knew it!" she goes. "I knew you've been intercepting my letters!" Ozai is like "Count yourself lucky it was me. What if it was my father? How would you have even begun to explain this to him?" He goes on to remind her that she was to give up contact with everyone outside of court, including her parents. He doesn't like his father's orders any more than she does, but he has to enforce them. He then burns the letter, telling Ursa that she can see whoever she wants, do whatever she wants, but she had better not let Zuko get caught up in any of it. Ozai makes a point to call Zuko his child, both because Ursa's letter did hurt him, and as a way to imply he cares about Zuko and Ursa doesn't.

A couple of hours later, both are feeling bad about the whole debacle. Ursa goes to see Ozai, who's in the middle of his usual "dealing with his angst by training until he straight-up collapses" routine, and they have a chat. Ozai apologizes for trying to imply she doesn't care about Zuko and for putting her in this position in the first place, and admits that he should've talked to her instead of going behind her back like that. Ursa swears she wasn't trying to get them in trouble, she was just so hurt by his actions that she wasn't thinking straight. Ozai promises her he'll find a way for her to contact and maybe even see her parents, so long as she promises to try and be less reckless. She agrees.

I'm skipping around a lot over things I haven't thought of in detail, so cut to a few years later. Zuko is around 7 and has just started his firebending lessons, Azula is around 5, and everything seems to be going pretty good. And then Azula starts firebending as well. Not only that, but she turns out to be a prodigy. Oops.

Ozai being Ozai, he immediately goes for damage control. He holds back Azula's progress under the pretext that it's going to be better for her in the long run, discourages her from attracting attention, and is generally very cagey whenever the subject of her bending is brought up. This is in sharp contrast to Azulon and to her teachers, who praise her for her talents and encourage her to develop her skills. So, naturally, Azula is really confused. If she's so great, why doesn't her father ever acknowledge it? This is made worse by the fact that Ozai can't really explain to Azula why he does things the way he does. So he just comes off as an unreasonable tyrant, which is. You know. Not at all the impression he wanted Azula to have of him. He knows what it's like to be the secondborn who is disliked by their parent, he never wanted to do that to his own child. It honestly feels like the universe is out to get him at this point.

So Azula becomes increasingly recalcitrant, and Ozai resolves to just give her space for the time being, spending more time with the one child who isn't fighting him at every turn. Seeing this as a rejection, Azula takes whatever pent-up rage she can't direct at Ozai and starts directing it at Zuko, meaning Ozai is put in a position where he has to protect one of his children from the other. Ursa tries her hardest to pick up the pieces, but that just ends with Azula writing her off as well. Azula also becomes aware of the fact that Ozai and Ursa are both pretty much powerless against Azulon, and that's where the fun begins.

It's a crappy situation all around, but it's about to get worse. Lu Ten dies and Iroh is about to return home from the Siege of Ba Sing Se, so Azulon tells Ozai that he has to give Azula to Iroh. Ozai is like, yep, there it is. There's the moment I've been dreading ever since I got married. Because due to the way this whole eugenics experiment worked, his children were never truly his. Azulon's vested interest in them meant Ozai never had any control over his own family, and Zuko and Azula were always going to be taken away from him sooner or later. But before Ozai can say anything, Azulon drops the bombshell on him. He has to kill Zuko, too. Ozai is like, fuck this. He doesn't care that Zuko was a failed experiment or whatever, that's his son. But he knows by now that his father cannot be reasoned with, so he asks Azulon to wait until Iroh comes home, buying himself time to figure out what to do. Surprisingly, Azulon agrees.

Ozai then goes to Ursa and tells her the tale of what just happened. Ursa goes, yeah, no, we can't afford to wait until Iroh comes back. Because even if they did, Zuko would still die. Ozai is like, well, there's gotta be something we can do. And that's when Ursa gets an idea. She briefly considers telling Ozai, but quickly thinks better of it. Patricide is a strong word. She knows Ozai wouldn't approve, so if she wants something done, she's gotta do it herself. Instead, she just says she knows a way, and leaves Ozai to mope.

Next morning, the palace is in chaos. Azulon just kicked the bucket, Iroh is away, and everyone is looking to Ozai for leadership. Ozai has a chat with Ursa and is like "You did this, didn't you?" Ursa is all "I don't know what you're talking about", and Ozai asks her if she really thinks he's that stupid. He then encourages her to get the heck out of Dodge, because someone is definitely going to trace this back to her and then they'll all be in big trouble, her especially. Ursa counters that she's not the same reckless woman she was 8 years ago, and that she made sure to cover all her bases this time, pinning the blame on supposed Earth Kingdom assassins. They sit in silence for a bit, and then Ozai confesses he can't believe Azulon is dead, and that he doesn't know whether to be relieved or to hate Ursa for murdering him. Ursa says that everything she's done, she's done to protect her family.

So Ozai basically becomes interim Fire Lord while waiting for Iroh to come back, and he does a pretty good job, having basically been acting Crown Prince ever since he came of age (with all of the responsibility and none of the credit, because Azulon was a dick like that). From here the AU can go any number of ways, from Iroh immediately taking over as Fire Lord, to him giving up his claim to the title, to Iroh trying to give up his claim and Ozai refusing.

I don't know if I'm ever going to actually write this AU, so I'm leaving this here, I guess? Lmk what you think.

[jesncin]

Some inspiration for this comic and Hellblazer homework:

Noah repeats the "any hand will do." line from the Hellblazer Fear Machine arc. I thought it would be so fitting if Noah didn't even realize he was emulating his dad's kindness too. After all, Noah holding someone's hand to comfort them did happen in canon.

Astra Logue, the girl John damned to Hell when messing with demons he shouldn't have, ended up losing her arm in the Newcastle Incident. In the Critical Mass arc, John manages to free her and several other children's souls from Hell. Some versions of Johnstantine don't include this arc so that John's guilt over Astra is a constant in his life.

Either way, we purposefully left it ambiguous whether John and Astra are in Heaven, Hell, or something in between. What matters was allegorizing that forgiveness. We also didn't want Astra's arm to be "cured"- instead fully committing to her being an amputee. It didn't feel right to imply that she's an amputee in Hell but she gets her arm back in Heaven- especially when we're responding to the ableist ending of Dead In America. The disabled children John wronged forgiving him because "they're cured now" felt thematically hollow and ableist.

So!! I wanted this send off to feel as Mike Flanagan-core as possible. Which meant we needed a MONOLOGUE

John's speech is inspired by the poem "Good Bones" by Maggie Smith. I took the "realtor" angle and reframed it to fit John's silver tongue conman character. So it morphed to being about protecting kids from how cruel we know the world to be.

Speaking of over-protecting-! Yeah that's right, we are pulling an Uno reverse on that canon "curing Noah" ending. While I get that it wasn't directly John who "cured" Noah (it was Clarice), I tried to keep some essence of it by reframing it as John being so protective of Noah that he thinks he can change who his son is for the "better". But then John recognizes how ableist he's being to who Noah is.

In canon, from Hellblazer 2019 to Dead in America, Noah's disability is treated as an inconvenience to overcome. Noah's disability is the unintended result of John's magical shenanigans, so curing it is part of John's redemption. Instead we have it so that John's growth ends with leaving Noah the way he is. I even made a nod to the "Making things easier? Simpler? Why not?" line from canon but reframed it as a flaw on John's part.

For those not in the know, Noah's situation is that he lost his voice as a very young boy when his mom was attacked by a demonic entity. His mom has been in a coma ever since, and Noah steadfastly visits her "at least twice a week". Noah lived most of his life having to both hope but grieve his only parent for so long. This made it feel all the more fitting that he should be the one to send off John at the end. He's used to sitting by his mom, ready to say goodbye any day now.

Like John, Noah's placement in our story is ambiguous too. Afterwards Noah's left to his own devices, he wants to make it back home, and he's still a very vulnerable kid at the end of the day. Not everything is wrapped up neatly, and I don't think it should be. John's prepared him as best as he can, intentionally or not. It's all a part of letting go and being worried for their safety regardless.

[spoilers for Midnight Mass]

To bring the Flanagan vibes together, we pulled from Riley's death scene in Midnight Mass. Riley is so John-coded that I swear there's a hidden perfect John Constantine movie somewhere inside this series. Riley spends the whole series haunted by the young woman he accidentally killed in a drunken car accident. But when he meets his end, the young woman is there to welcome him sweetly. It's SO INTENSE haha. I've had a Johnstantine death scene saved in my pocket ever since, so I refitted it for Dead in America. We made Noah and Astra parallels of each other.

Despite being called "Dead in America" to hype up the death of its hero, John's send off never landed for me. I get that cape comic characters never truly stay dead, (especially when they make tons of money for the company) but I was hoping for an ending that at least felt emotionally final and convincing. Something that brought everything about John Constantine full circle. In canon, it's a bunch of events that accumulate into a larger event where John just happens to get the short end of the stick and rot away. He's sent off into the ocean by Swamp Thing, his new friend that he barely got to know (Nat), and his son he barely connected with (Noah) are just there.

This is me trying to visually express "Forgiveness is warm. Like a tear on a cheek" from Nell's speech in Flanagan's Haunting of Hill House. I didn't want it to have words. I Uno-reversed Flanagan's obsession with monologues you see.

Dead In America acts self aware about how anti-climatic and unsatisfying it is, but that doesn't magically make it good- y'know what I mean? I wanted an ending that actually said something about parenthood, being buried by your children, worrying if you prepared them enough to survive, worrying that they've emulated the worst parts of you, or that you've become the worst parts of your own parents. Something that called back to John's origin story as a guy who messed up and screwed over the life of an innocent kid. Dealing with having his own kid should be this ending piece to that tragedy. So here's what it looks like if Dead in America bothered.

A Father's Farewell: The End Of The Road.

Our take on Hellblazer: Dead In America's ending, focusing in on John's relationship with Noah, legacy, and parenthood.

[moon---fuu]

« Pourtant, je suis juste passionnel, au point d’en perdre sommeil… »

::Shidou Ryusei x fem!reader

« I'm just so passionate, that I lose sleep over it » - Theodora (the song)

Letting his hands have their way on your waist, while you were laying by his side sleeping soundly, your boyfriend rubs your belly. He sighs, trying to find some sleep, spooning you. Like your sleep would, possibly, stir up his.

Well, sleeping, that’s what your were doing before Ryusei, or Ryu as you like to call him, decided to play with your hair. A habit of his, since the beginning of your relationship. He likes smelling your sweet scent, saying he can « feel you better ».

« Sweetheart… » you hear him calling you, his deep raspy voice coming from behind your neck. Your eyes fluttering open, as you yawn and turn to his side to nuzzle into his bare torso. Being the free spirit he is, when it comes to sleeping, he enjoys being shirtless even naked sometimes.

« Yes Ryu’ » you responded, closing your eyes finding comfort in his arms. « Having trouble…hum…sleeping ? » you added.

Your boyfriend, kissed your forehead, his lips curling into a smile afterwards. You knew him so well, that it makes his cells buzz at the sound of your pleasant voice.

« Yeah..you know.. the usual insomnia.. and…hum..just having a lot on my mind lately. » you nodded before oppeing your arms, for him to cuddle you.

You’ve been with him for 2 years now, so his episode of insomnia were not a surprise anymore. And with time, you know how to react accordingly and give him the comfort he needs.

« Come here Ryu’ » he nuzzle into your chest after your words, smiling like a spoiled kid. And in fact with you, he was.

Your chest was his favorite place to be on earth. Being connect, this way, felt so intimate, so vulnerable, that it would make him sensitive. Hearing you heartbeat would soothes him and the little kisses you would leave on his forehead would drive him, first class, into the dreamworld.

Hearing a sigh of relief, you feel him wrapping his arms around your waist, once more. Giving it a little squeeze this time.

« I love you… » he whispered being as vulnerable as possible. This moment was just supporting, combine with understanding, between two lovers who would go through everything together.

His cells were buzzing around, with your voice murmuring sweet words for him. Even with his dopamine getting high, he relaxed into your arms.

For you, Ryusei was just a man who had his style of expressing himself, in a weird way you admit, but very sensitive. He was responsive to anything and everything. So when the end of the day would come, he would be senseless, no stimulation to distract him from his mind. No way to escape, with his usual habits to break the rules. It’s just him, at night, having to deal with his thoughts.

But now, with you, he could be as passionate as possible and you would be here to giving him the best treatment he needed.

❥ I’m just writing what i wanted to read…

::Moon

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Boyfriend Hitoshi Shinsou Takes Care Of You | Hitoshi x Y/N

Just...bear with me for a second...

Picture Pro Hero Hitoshi taking care of you after a long day.

You get home, you're exhausted. The office was brutal today - so many emails to respond to and crises to solve. You know your boyfriend Hitoshi is out there saving actual lives so you feel bad complaining to him over text.

When he doesn't hear from you all day, he starts to get worried. After work, he immediately heads over to your apartment to check in on you and make sure that everything's alright. What he finds is a burnt out mess. You're laying on your couch absolutely wiped - too exhausted to cook or change out of your work clothes.

"Oh. Baby." He says with a sigh, locking the door behind him. He slides off his shoes and walks to your side at the couch, crouching to look you in the eyes. You're so tired and you're crying, just generally overwhelmed by life. He sighs as he runs a hand softly across your scalp the way you like it, letting his fingertips linger delicately behind your ears. "Why didn't you tell me things were this bad?"

"D-didn't want to bother you." You manage to hiccup out.

"Baby. You're never bothering me. Ever." Hitoshi looks around the apartment for a moment, getting his bearings. "Hold on, I'll be right back." You whimper, not wanting him to leave. "I swear, babe. I'll be two minutes." You hear the gentle padding of his feet as he disappears into your bedroom.

A minute later, he emerges holding a comfy pair of sweatpants and your favorite band t-shirt. He places the bundle of clothes on the couch next to you and reaches to start undoing your blouse. There's nothing sexual about his touch as he gently undoes the buttons and lifts the sleeves off of your arms. He reaches behind you and undoes your bra as well, your breasts spilling out into the warm air of the apartment. Most days, he would cover your chest with kisses and spend as much time as possible kneading and sucking at your breasts. Unfortunately, this isn't one of those carefree sexy times. Instead, he lifts your arms up and helps you pull on the comfy t-shirt. The well-loved fabric instantly makes you feel safe. Next, he helps you unbutton your tight work slacks so that he can slide them off of your legs. A moment later, you're in your sweatpants and snug as a bug.

He drapes your favorite plush floral blanket around you and grabs the remote so that he can put on a favorite kids movie - something you won't need to think a lot about. He settles on Lilo & Stitch. He readjusts the blanket around you and leans down to kiss your forehead before making his way to your hamper to dispose of your work clothes.

You sigh comfortably as you settle into the blanket, wiping the tears away from your eyes. Your embarrassed that you get this way sometimes - overwhelmed by the tasks of the workday, by the state of the world. Hitoshi is always your anchor during these times - stepping up to help keep you grounded and safe.

It doesn't take long for the cushion next to you to sink a few inches when Hitoshi takes his usual place on the couch. You're happy to see he's grabbed his spare pajamas from your room - a dark purple thermal shirt and matching checked pajama pants. He's wearing a pair of thick grey socks that your grandma knitted him for Christmas last year, and he's got one of your claw clips holding back his wild violet hair (it's the hot pink one that says "Bimbo"). God, you love this man. He looks absolutely cozy.

"I just ordered your favorite pizza - it'll be here in twenty minutes." He says, absentmindedly focused on the movie as he tosses an arm around you to pull you close. You feel the strong flex of his Pro Hero bicep around you. You sniffle, he's just so sweet. He looks down at you, concerned. "Want me to get some tissues or a washcloth for your face?"

"No, no. I'm alright. You're just so good to me. I know you've probably had a hard day, too. I don't want you to feel like you always need to take care of me, 'Toshi." You say, your tone tinged with guilt.

"Baby, listen to me - I take care of you because I love you. You're never a burden to me. I know how hard things can get sometimes, and I want you to know that I'll always be here for you to help figure everything out. You've helped me through plenty of hard days, too. Let me return the favor." He starts to smooth his hand through your hair once more, and you feel your eye lids droop at the gentle touch. You know that he's right - you've helped him through bad mental days as well. You're partners - you support each other however possible. You show up for each other.

He knows exactly how to scritch your scalp to make you fall asleep. You feel yourself drifting - cozy and warm in his arms as he cards his fingers through your hair.

"Can I nap for a bit?" You ask quietly as Hawaiin Rollercoaster Ride plays in the background.

"Of course. Whatever you need, baby." He presses another soft kiss to your head and you let yourself drop off into a light sleep.

"Love you 'Toshi."

"Love you, babe."

-----

End.

[sweetheartsnips]

Saiyans x Virgin Reader HCs

In honour of me being back on tumblr after like 6 years here are some short HCs for my fav Saiyans x virgin reader that I threw together while eating lunch. 

Not inherently explicit but 18+

A/N : you can probably expect more of this kinda stuff from me in between my more substantial stuff on ao3 from now on because I am possessed and have too many thoughts.

Goku 

Goku has quietly been waiting for you to bring up the topic for quite a while. He has tried to be subtle (but if Goku is anything it is definitely not subtle) with touches that linger a bit too long to innocent: squeezing your hips, thigh holding that goes a little too high, and eyes that wander over your body with that hungry look of his. Of course, he would be patient, just for you, and would wait until you were comfortable enough giving yourself to him in that way.

“Really? We can do that? Can we go and do it right now?”

Goku would get lost in the opportunity to show you how much he likes you in such a physical way. He works with his hands, after all. 

He would get so distracted– he would be so excited just for foreplay. Running his hands over your body greedily, going down on you like the himbo glutton he is. He would be so happy just like this, he would almost forget about the main event. 

A very vocal partner. Mostly just gibberish about how soft and wet you are, and how pretty you look. He would go all out to make you feel good (he has crazy stamina) and would make you scream at least a few times. 

Vegeta

Vegeta by nature is confident, dominant and has control of the entire situation. He wouldn’t ever tell you, but he has planned everything out to minimise any risk of disappointing you. He wants your first time to be perfect so as to not bruise your image of him. 

He is also quite possessive, and the thought that you are trusting him and him alone with this feeds his pride immensely. 

He is quite cocky, but also has the ability to please you to back it up. 

“I’m the only one that can give you this, let me take care of you.”

Would tease you for hours beforehand if you let him: it amuses him to see you squirm and beg. He can read your body like a map, exploiting all of your sensitive spots. 

“You’ve gone from so demure to so needy, I’ve ruined you already, haven’t I?” 

He wants you to think you’re lucky for having the opportunity to be intimate with a prince, but he actually feels grateful that you’re allowing him to be your first. 

Gohan

Gohan would be incredibly flustered when you ask him to be your first.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to disappoint you..”

Although ever humble, he is so flattered that you would choose him to take your virginity. He would take you on a date beforehand, give you oodles of affection and make sure the occasion is as comfortable and relaxing for you as possible.

Surprise! Once he is in bed with you he becomes a mess. Little whimpers and moans, his skin flushed but cool with sweat as he presses his body against you. 

“You feel so good…you look so perfect. Does that feel good, sweetheart?” 

Is entirely focused on you, and doesn’t draw things out for too long. He wants to please you, to be good for you. 

He watches your face closely, using your expressions and sounds as a guide, slowly becoming more and more sure of himself. Once he is sure you’re enjoying yourself, he finds it much easier to slip and lose himself in his own pleasure.

Gohan also gives the best aftercare ever.

Future Trunks

Trunks is a gentle lover, as gentle as they come. When you ask him to be your first, he would be over the moon, and excited to show his affection for you. 

“I promise I’ll make it good for you. We can do everything exactly as you want.”

Trunks would worship your body with caresses and kisses beforehand, taking things slowly to build your anticipation and show you how much he cares. His touch would be gentle, full of love and reverence. He doesn’t get the chance to show you often, between time travel and all. 

He would take you in missionary, cupping the side of your face and get lost in your pleasure-dazed eyes. As he senses your growing need, his touch will gradually become more firm and confident, feeding off of the way your body takes him. 

Trunks also moans pretty. 

“It’s like you were made for me…I’m so lucky.”

Afterwards, Trunks would hold you close, letting you rest against his muscly chest. Forehead kisses, savouring your smell. 

“Thank you for being mine.”

Broly (Super) 

Broly is initially confused.

“Your…first? First to do what?” 

When you sheepishly explain to him he goes as red as a tomato. It seems it would be his first time too. 

Your size differences would make things a little awkward to navigate first, but you end up being most comfortable underneath him, caged underneath his hulking body. He likes to have you like this: as if he is keeping you safe and shielding you from the world. Despite his imposing demeanour, he is a blushing mess– nervous and afraid of messing up.

Broly lets you take the lead a bit. He is very careful in foreplay, letting you guide him to ensure your safety and comfort. He is a little afraid of hurting you, and this is reflected in his timid actions, but he soon comes out of his shell with your reassurances.

He loves the taste of your skin, the warmth of your body. He is so touch-deprived that with each little brush of your skin against his he has to stifle a whine. 

Broly finds it difficult to find the right words to say, instead choosing to show you how much he enjoys you with his hands.

[ilovegyokeres]

thanks for part 2 of Celebrity Crush!!!! your writing is definitely the best!!! 💖💖 now we deserve part 3 with their meeting and kiss

𝒞𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒷𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒞𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽-𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝟥 ✧˖°

───────────✦✧✦──────────

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐘ı𝐥𝐝ı𝐳 | 𝐉𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐬 | 𝟐𝟒/𝟐𝟓 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𓆩♡𓆪

✧ 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬.

𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.

───────────✦✧✦──────────

The moment you step off the plane in Turin, a rush of excitement and nerves floods over you. The city is cooler than you expected, and the cold air feels refreshing after a long flight. But it doesn’t stop the flutter in your chest; you're in the same city as Kenan Yıldız—the very person you’ve been texting and FaceTiming for weeks. But this? This feels different. You're about to meet him in person.

You walk through the airport, and despite the crowds of people bustling around you, it feels like you’re walking through a dream. Every step brings you closer to the moment when you'll finally see Kenan in the flesh. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts.

It’s a message from Kenan.

Kenan: “Hope you had a smooth flight. I’m already looking forward to seeing you tonight."

You smile, typing quickly.

You: “I’m so excited. It feels unreal to finally be here!"

Kenan: “Can’t wait to show you what we’re about tonight. I’ll make sure it’s a game to remember."

You feel your heart race as you read his words. He’s as excited to meet you as you are to meet him. It feels surreal, and yet, the nervousness is palpable.

The ride from the airport to your hotel is almost a blur as you try to focus on the city around you. Turin is beautiful, the architecture sleek, and you can sense the energy in the air, especially with the game happening soon. It doesn’t seem real yet—Kenan is just moments away, and you’re about to watch him play on the same field that’s been the center of his world.

When you finally arrive at the hotel, everything seems to slow down. The luxury of the place is unmistakable, but you’re too excited to really appreciate the surroundings. The anticipation is too much. You quickly check in and head to your room, knowing that in just a few hours, you’ll be at the stadium, watching Kenan live for the first time.

The game is coming up, and you’re torn between wanting to get to the stadium as fast as possible and wanting to make sure you look your best. You check your phone again, though you know that Kenan is getting ready for the match and likely won’t be texting right now. Still, you can’t help but want to feel connected.

There’s a momentary pause in the excitement. The city outside your hotel room window is alive, full of sound and anticipation. Your heart pounds in your chest—Kenan will be on that pitch soon, and you’re about to witness it all.

Finally, you get the message you’ve been waiting for.

Kenan: “I’ll be looking for you in the stands. Ready to see me score?"

You can’t help but laugh softly.

You: “I can’t wait. You better impress me."

His reply comes fast, as always, with a hint of excitement and playful confidence.

Kenan: “You won’t be disappointed. See you soon."

You sit back on your bed, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’re in the same city, about to see him in action. It’s hard to focus on anything else—your heart won’t stop racing.

Arriving at the stadium, you can feel the buzz in the air. The atmosphere is electric, filled with the chants of the Juventus fans and the collective anticipation for the game. The VIP section is luxurious, but your mind keeps drifting back to one thing—Kenan.

You sit down, getting comfortable as you survey the stadium. The game is about to start, and all you can think about is how you’re about to see Kenan, your favorite player, in person. It doesn’t seem possible, but there he is, warming up with the team, moving fluidly across the field. You try not to let your excitement overwhelm you, but your pulse quickens with each second that passes.

The warm-ups are intense, with the Juventus players stretching and getting in the zone. But it’s impossible to take your eyes off Kenan. He looks so focused, so confident, yet there’s a quiet intensity about him that makes you even more nervous than you already were.

And then, during a brief pause in his warm-up, your eyes lock for just a moment. Kenan’s gaze sweeps across the stands, and your heart stops when he notices you. There’s no mistaking it—he sees you, and for a brief instant, he smiles.

The world seems to pause in that second, and your breath hitches. You quickly look away, trying to keep your composure. But inside, you're a mess of excitement and nerves. Kenan smiled at you, and that tiny moment alone is enough to set your heart racing. You can’t help but feel like the tension between you two is building.

The game is about to start, and the players are lined up at the tunnel, ready to head out. You take a deep breath. This is it. You’re here, Kenan’s about to play, and it feels like you’re at the beginning of something new.

The game finally ends, and Juventus claims the victory. You’re still trying to calm your heart after the goal and the celebration. The stadium begins to empty as the players make their way off the pitch. You sit in the VIP section for a moment longer, your mind spinning.

The idea of meeting Kenan finally is almost overwhelming. After everything—the texts, the calls, the anticipation—it’s time for you two to finally face each other. You gather your things, take a deep breath, and make your way toward the exit.

As you step into the hallway, your eyes scan the area, and there he is. Kenan is walking toward you, a look of nervous excitement on his face. He’s just come off the shower, there’s a mix of adrenaline surrounding him. His teammates are nearby, laughing and celebrating, but Kenan’s focus is entirely on you.

When you finally stand in front of each other, neither of you knows what to say. There’s an awkward silence, filled only with the distant sounds of the stadium and his teammates’ voices.

Kenan cracks a smile, his expression softening. "I can’t believe you’re actually here."

You laugh nervously, feeling the tension in the air. "I’m still processing it, honestly. Seeing you in person… it’s surreal."

There’s a long pause, and Kenan steps a little closer, his eyes searching yours. "I’ve been thinking about this moment since we started talking."

Your heart flutters at the sincerity in his voice. The tension between you both is palpable, but there’s something comforting about it too. It feels like the start of something real, something that’s been building for weeks. You both smile at each other, unsure of what comes next, but excited to finally be face-to-face.

"It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?" you say softly, your voice almost shaking as you speak. "How we’ve talked for so long and now... here we are."

Kenan’s eyes soften, a playful but nervous smile crossing his face. "Yeah, it feels like we’ve known each other longer than we actually have. But, in a way, it’s kind of perfect that we’re meeting like this, you know?" He chuckles, though there’s a hint of uncertainty behind it. "Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like there’s a lot more we still don’t know about each other."

You nod, feeling your heart racing as you process his words. The way he’s looking at you, so open and yet, still unsure. "I guess we’ll have to find out. It’s a little nerve-wracking, don’t you think?" You give a small laugh, trying to mask your own nerves.

Kenan steps a little closer, the distance between you shrinking with each passing second. "Yeah," he admits, his voice dropping slightly. "But... I don’t know. It feels right. And the way you’ve been there, even from afar, it’s kind of made everything feel... easier." He tilts his head slightly, studying you with a quiet intensity. "I didn’t think I’d feel like this about someone I’ve never met in person before. But here we are."

His words hit you in a way that makes your chest tighten, and you find yourself searching his gaze, wondering if he feels the same surge of emotion you do. There’s an unspoken connection between you two, palpable in the way he’s looking at you now.

"You’ve really been thinking about this, huh?" you ask, your voice quieter now, soft with a mix of surprise and admiration. "I mean, you’re Kenan Yıldız. You’re not exactly the kind of person who—" You pause, unsure of how to finish the sentence. "I guess I’m just surprised that you… feel the same way."

Kenan lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. "You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about this. I’ve been watching your stories, reading every message, and trying to make sure I didn’t mess this up when we finally met. So, yeah, I’m a little nervous, too."

You blink, trying to process his confession. Nervous? Kenan Yıldız, the football star, nervous? It almost feels impossible. "You? Nervous?" you repeat, half in disbelief, half in awe.

Kenan shrugs, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he meets your gaze. "It’s different when you know someone so well through a screen and then suddenly… they’re right in front of you. It’s a lot to take in." He laughs softly, though his smile is still unsure. "I guess that’s why I keep second-guessing myself."

You smile at his honesty. The idea of Kenan, this confident and composed player on the field, being nervous around you makes your heart race. "I get it," you whisper. "I think I’ve been second-guessing myself too."

Kenan looks at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. "So, what do we do now?" he asks, his voice low and thoughtful. "We can’t just stand here all night, right?"

You hesitate for a second, your mind racing as you search for the right words. "I don’t know... I think it’s okay to just take this slow, right? There’s no rush." You glance around the hallway for a brief moment, the sound of his teammates still echoing in the background. "We’ve waited this long, so maybe we don’t have to rush into anything. We can just… enjoy the moment."

Kenan nods, his eyes softening as the tension between you two begins to ebb. "You’re right," he agrees, his smile growing warmer. "No need to rush. We’ve got time. And I’m just glad you’re here."

The air between you both feels lighter now, but there’s still that lingering intensity, that unspoken desire to know each other more. Slowly, Kenan steps back and motions toward the exit, as though inviting you to take the next step. "How about we grab some food? I’m starving after the match, and I could use some company... if you’re up for it."

You smile, feeling the nerves begin to fade as you give a small nod. "I’d like that."

The two of you walk toward the exit, the excitement of what’s ahead almost tangible between you. The night is just beginning, and everything feels possible, full of promise and new beginnings. There’s something special about the way things have unfolded so far, something that tells you that the connection you share isn’t just a fleeting moment.

And as you walk together, side by side, there’s a sense of quiet excitement between you both. Kenan’s smile is genuine, and so is yours, and you know that this is just the beginning of something much bigger.

───────────✦✧✦──────────

✧ 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒: 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽, 𝒾’𝓂 𝓈𝑜 glad 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾k𝑒𝒹!𝒾’𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒦𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 4, 𝒾 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 like 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 3 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜o 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔!

[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