#unceeledcollections

[unceeled]

nanami kento never intended for your relationship to be the first page of his newest journal. he didn't even notice when he began documenting it with a black ink pen in a plain leather notebook—writing down the moment you finally agreed to be his, as if you hadn’t been smitten by him from the first time you laid eyes on him.

each passing page became a piece of you. his dilemma on buying you flowers filled the 14th page, and by the 34th, there was a polaroid of you holding your favorite flowers—this time, he knew with confidence. your trips together occupied a few more pages, and even more were dedicated to the places he dreamed of taking you. from losses to love, nanami wrote it all down. it was his best way of keeping you—of keeping what you shared. he wanted your love to remain forever, not only in his heart but also in his hands.

when the wedding bells finally rang and he wore a suit unlike his usual ones, nanami kento stood before you, journal in hand. he read from it, a love documented from the beginning to what felt like the end of the beginning. his vows were written as though he'd known all along that he would marry you. but no, his journal didn’t just record the start of your relationship or the journey leading up to that day.

what nanami kento had not expected was that he would end up documenting your entire story.

as he began the last page with your name, followed by a comma, he wrote down everything he planned for your future together—plans he wanted to set in motion as soon as he returned from his mission. plans he would have given to you immediately after.

"let me take you to malaysia?"

you read over and over again, desperately hoping for more to follow, for another page to turn. but there were no more words. no more pages. and nanami’s voice, his presence, would no longer carry past this page.

yet, it’s hard to be angry with him. because, in the end, nanami was always a gentleman. whether knowingly or not, he left you one final letter—a letter filled with love, just like every page in his journal. because maybe, just maybe, the journal wasn’t for him to keep your love. maybe it was for you to keep his—not only in your heart but in your hands, after all.

[unceeled]

gojo satoru has you all covered. they were not joking when they said that this man would serve and protect because not a single thing touches you, ever. and gojo satoru is proud of that, that's what he's good at: being your personal shield.

and yet, even if he were to extend his infinity to you at every hour of the day, the one thing gojo satoru could not protect you from is getting sick.

then and there, the strongest one forgets how to act. this was not something he could fight off, something he could exorcise. no. but he felt helpless watching you squirm and curl up into a ball, sneezing and coughing on your bed.

he'd do everything in his power to take care of you, of course. but it was fidgety, at best. he never got sick growing up; he wasn't aware of the procedures of this all. so... he googled.

what else was he meant to do? you refused to eat, you were coughing up something, you were shivering, your temperature extremely high, and more things he truly did not want to think that you were going through. still, it was those same things that found their way to the google search bar as gojo satoru looked desperately for anything that could make your shivering figure feel better.

comfort was the last thing he got from his trip to the internet, however. the text on his screen informed him of the demise you'd supposedly face at this rate. you were gonna get worse and he was gonna lose the light of his life... is how he understood the search result.

after spending the whole afternoon napping, you finally stir awake feeling a cool towel on your head and something dripping on your hand. you blink the sleep away for a few more moments, eyes finally focusing on the sniffling figure holding your hand.

"toru, what's going on?" you squeeze his hand back lightly. you hear an almost theatrical gasp matched with widened blue eyes and immediately become engulfed in big bulky arms.

"i thought i was gonna lose you." he sniffs, nuzzling his face in your neck. you're left puzzled but return the hug nonetheless. "what made you think that?" satoru pulls away and examines your face. "baby, it felt like you were dying on me," he exclaims, still cupping your face.

"toru, it was probably just the flu-" you are interrupted by a cough that erupts from your throat.

"see! this is what google said would happen!"

"google? satoru gojo, you consulted google? and that's why you were crying?"

"next time i'll just exorcise every germ in this world."

"if you say so, baby"

[unceeled]

"you're pouting, baby."

even satoru gojo admits that suguru geto is a sight to behold, the more attractive of the two. no matter how many times you've seen your boyfriend, your eyes always land on his refined face and body, drinking him in as if you were parched.

it seems, though, that you’re not the only one with eyes on him. within an hour of your date with suguru, both men and women have become more than just polite with him.

but suguru isn’t clueless. he knows you, every quirk and crevice of your being.

"baby."

"…"

"i love you."

"yeah, you probably say that to everyone."

"yeah."

"so you're just blatantly agreeing—"

"i do tell everyone that i love you, babe."

you can't help but roll your eyes and smile. amid the jealous stares and bold advances, suguru's unwavering gaze assures you of his love. in a crowd of admirers, he's chosen the poutiest and sulkiest, and you're more than fine with that.

[unceeled]

no, you couldn't buy yourself flowers...

because nanami kento did that for you.

meeting nanami was a blessing, the biggest one in your life. stoic, blunt, direct, and a man of his heart.

every month since your relationship began, he never failed to bring you flowers. they were reminiscent of those he gave you the first time he politely asked you out on a date, one month before it became official. since then, nanami kento made sure your flower vase was never empty.

he was confident you would care for them like your own child, ensuring each petal lived as long as possible. and how couldn't you? you were certain each bouquet was hand-picked by your lover, never seeing the same arrangement for sale in stores. it was only right to keep them alive for as long as possible.

but flowers are only living things, after all.

so when the last flower wilts, the room feels colder, the space around you vast and unwelcoming. you trace your fingers along the vase's edge, feeling the cool glass against your skin, wishing desperately for the flowers to show again. but they don't. they never will. not anymore.

you can't help but wonder if you had taken care of your flower well enough.

but you know that isn't what he would say; it's never your fault that your flower withered away.

and it isn't your fault that nanami kento could no longer stay.

so you speak to the flowers that no longer exist, whispering secrets and confessions to the ghosts of petals long gone. you apologize to them, to him, for not being enough to keep the garden of your shared life flourishing. the silence in response is deafening, a reminder that the only answer lies within the echoes of your memories.

yet as the tears stream down your face, you find a small comfort in the knowledge that, somewhere, nanami kento is watching over you, his love as enduring and unyielding as the roots of the flowers he once so lovingly chose for you.

[hnychn]

oh so you hate me

nanami kento never intended for your relationship to be the first page of his newest journal. he didn't even notice when he began documenting it with a black ink pen in a plain leather notebook—writing down the moment you finally agreed to be his, as if you hadn’t been smitten by him from the first time you laid eyes on him.

each passing page became a piece of you. his dilemma on buying you flowers filled the 14th page, and by the 34th, there was a polaroid of you holding your favorite flowers—this time, he knew with confidence. your trips together occupied a few more pages, and even more were dedicated to the places he dreamed of taking you. from losses to love, nanami wrote it all down. it was his best way of keeping you—of keeping what you shared. he wanted your love to remain forever, not only in his heart but also in his hands.

when the wedding bells finally rang and he wore a suit unlike his usual ones, nanami kento stood before you, journal in hand. he read from it, a love documented from the beginning to what felt like the end of the beginning. his vows were written as though he'd known all along that he would marry you. but no, his journal didn’t just record the start of your relationship or the journey leading up to that day.

what nanami kento had not expected was that he would end up documenting your entire story.

as he began the last page with your name, followed by a comma, he wrote down everything he planned for your future together—plans he wanted to set in motion as soon as he returned from his mission. plans he would have given to you immediately after.

"let me take you to malaysia?"

you read over and over again, desperately hoping for more to follow, for another page to turn. but there were no more words. no more pages. and nanami’s voice, his presence, would no longer carry past this page.

yet, it’s hard to be angry with him. because, in the end, nanami was always a gentleman. whether knowingly or not, he left you one final letter—a letter filled with love, just like every page in his journal. because maybe, just maybe, the journal wasn’t for him to keep your love. maybe it was for you to keep his—not only in your heart but in your hands, after all.