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retiredteabag · 5 months ago

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Wishful Thinking - chapter one

arranged marriage with Nanami with a people-pleasing reader

next part - series masterlist

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Nanami Kento was not in a sorcerer clan. In fact, he was the only sorcerer in his family. You had met him only once before you had been informed of the engagement, and in that brief interaction you had decided you knew exactly what type of man he was.

"It's a pain." had been his harsh words. Vitriol clear as day in his tone.

When asked what he felt about being a sorcerer his response had been that it was…a pain? Being the reserved individual he was, he didn't take the time to elaborate despite the questions of the sorcerers surrounding him.

You had rolled your eyes in that moment. Clearly, he had no sense of responsibility. No duty. I suppose that's what it means to not be in a clan. You had thought. He’s got no idea how good he has it.

And even though you chalked his image up in your mind as an irresponsible and pretentious git. The memory of his brutal gaze stuck in your mind. You knew deep down that it was simply jealousy.

Sorcery was a pain, there had been many instances where you wished you could put it aside and leave this world, but that was simply not what you were born for.

All those months ago, you had left the meeting with the Jujutsu higher-ups resentful. How lucky that man in the suit was, to not have an obligation to fulfill exactly what the clan heads asked of him. How free he must feel.

But, oh, how wrong you had been.

You had known your marriage was impending, having had meetings with your father and his subordinates on several occasions to discuss the offers from other clans.

Offers for your hand.

Offers for the rest of your miserable life, for your body, for your fertility, offers to impregnate you, and nothing much else.

You had been picky, of course, having known all your life this was forthcoming you were expecting to not have to rely on Zenin blood to uphold the family name.

Your father was no kind man but if there was one thing he was, it was prideful. If even his measly daughter could brush aside an important clan born man, he too could wait for a finer offer to come.

Back then, you had no idea that would lead to this.

You stood before a full-length mirror. Your dress came below your ankle, the neckline nothing short of chic modesty.

By all accounts and by the people serving you, you were expected to be prepared.

Your wedding was nothing special, a formality, nothing more. Clans from across Japan were here to see the ceremony. Still, your heart pounded as you gulped at your reflection. A shakily deep breath brought you little comfort as you squeezed your hand into a fist.

You knew little of the man you were to marry.

Here was what you had:

He was NOT a Zenin. Hallelujah.

He was not from any clan. (This had come as a shock to you, your father having only explored offers from fellow clan heads, you had no idea how this arrangement was to be made until Gakuganji, the principal of your school, Kyoto Jujutsu High, and one of the more powerfully cruel higher-ups, had arrived at your families estate, enlisting a "fine candidate" for your immanent marriage. He had seemed certain. Immovable.)

And last of the information you had, he was seemingly strong enough for your father to deem his ability to produce "quality children" acceptable. He was a grade 1 sorcerer, nothing to scoff at.

You knew your father would not have accepted the offer of a man without heritage if the higher-up’s had not endorsed it. Even now you wondered why they were so keen on this matrimony.

And that was all you had.

"You look beautiful." A maid from the estate was arranging your hair, she moved quickly, with a soft hand. You hardly noticed her. "I've heard he is a very gentle man," She starts up again after your eyes narrowed in the reflection of the mirror, "if that's any consolation." The women ends in a whisper.

You huff out a breath, "Thank you."

That's what they all say.

You wonder if she was lying to you. This morning you had heard your mother crying in your bedroom after you had made up your sheets for the last time. It made you sad, knowing she was afraid for you.

Afraid you would turn out like her.

You swallow with some effort and look up to the maid at your side, she smiled at you.

"It looks lovely." You say, assuming she wanted praise.

She lays a hand on your shoulder and her smile crinkles in a funny way, "He is very handsome." Her eyebrows tilt in a telling fashion, she almost giggles.

Great.

What were you to say to that?

"I... see." You look at the floor and turn away from your reflection. All that was left was for your father to arrive. To take your hand in an uncomfortably tight grip and lead you down the aisle to the man that was decided to be the father of your children.

"Is there anything you would like, before I leave you? It won't be long now..." The maid tries to meet your gaze so you look up to her face once more.

"No, there's nothing, thank you for helping me." You try to smile at her but your throat hurts from the brief amount of talking you have already done.

The women nods her head, she turns to go but hesitates at the door, for a moment you think she is going to turn and speak to you, to say something as a comfort perhaps, but just as her body holts to grip the door, the hinges swing away and your father steps in.

"Move out of my way. Move! Out!” Your father shoves at the women who had been by the threshold and she escapes out the door with a hushed apology and not a glance at yourself.

You stand before him. Resolved to not shutter in these moments. Neither of you speak until he swings his arms and says,

"Well, are you coming?"

You almost want to laugh. How you wish you could look up at the domineering man and say, no I don't think I am, but you knew better, and although he extends no arm to you, you take the few steps to his presence and heave a sign.

"Stand up straight. Serve us well."

You knew those would be all the words you heard from him tonight, as unhappy as you were to be married to a strange man, you felt pleased to know you would no longer be living in your clans estate, just as you knew your father would be glad to be rid of you.

Your fathers movements seemed all too fast. His steps, his reaching for your arm, his pulling you out the door and into the hall.

You felt as if time was slowing but those around you weren't effected. Your father huffed angrily, tugging you along. This was happening too fast. You didn't want this. You weren't ready.

You wiped the sweat from your palms over the satin dress hanging on your waist. The collar that once seemed elegant was starting to choke you. The door to the ceremony was drawing closer, you could hear music but it was almost as if the closer you came, the foggier it sounded.

Echos of your mother’s cries this morning permeated your brain. You knew you were asking for too much. But in those last moments before your autonomy would be taken from you, you had only one wish.

That the maid was right. That the man at the alter would truly be a gentle creature...would be tender....would be mild?

The doors were swinging open. The light was bright, but you did not dare to raise a hand to block its assault. You walked slowly, arm tightly locked in your fathers grasp. You noticed the clan leaders in the audience, but as your eyes tried to take in the man at the front of the room, you stuttered in your steps.

Hoping your father would take no notice, you tried to recall how you knew the man who was meeting your eye.

You began to put together who this man was, having met him before, though you hadn't been introduced. That one interaction had showed you he would not have been a man you would want to live the rest of your days with. He had seemed unhappy in those moment.

Fear shot through you.

An unhappy husband was more dangerous than any curse you had faced.

Having stared long enough, you drop your gaze from his own piercing one. You almost want to smile, but you're unable to.

Maybe he isn't as free as you thought he was. Poor him.

You wonder how he even managed to get in this predicament as the music began to come to its end. You're stepping up onto the platform that your future husband stood upon, your ankle wobbles in the heels that were chosen for you.

In a flash you see his arm reach out for you but you’re only confused, shrinking back a bit father from him.

You look to meet his gaze once more. He's barely a few breaths from you. His eyes seem focused on your face.

The officiant is talking but you cannot hear him.

You realize one of two things in this particular moment, one, the maid was right about something, this man was remarkably handsome. And second, you realize you're feeling quite faint.

The dress had not been so hot before you were standing before this man in front of all these people under the shine of all these lights. You swallow, dig your nails into your palms, the officiant seems to be speaking to the man before you and it isn't long before your husband speaks out a low, "I do."

You feel as though you must pay attention, your bit is coming up now and you would hate to embarrass your family, but you can hardly hear the man over the pounding in your ears. A prick of sweat starts to form on the back of your neck.

There is a pause in the mans speech, he looks at you intently, after a moment he raises a brow.

Oh, right. "I do." You say.

You look anywhere but your husband. Knowing you weren't expected to kiss, you try to take in some more air. This was it.

The officiant hands something to the man before you.

He's so tall. The suit he is wearing seems to fit him perfectly, and you can’t help wondering who helped him here today if he had no clan members.

His arm is suddenly in front of you, palm up. It takes you but a moment to know what he is asking for. You brace yourself and set your hand within his own.

He places his other hand onto yours for a moment, engulfing your hand in his grasp. You are shaking, you know you are, but with everything going on in this very moment, you are hoping he won't notice.

A ring is being slipped onto your finger. Good, now your turn.

He hands you his own, a plain ring of gold.

Don't drop it. Do not drop it. Don't-

You miss his ring finger once before finally sliding it on. You hope no one noticed. You pull your hand free of his first and look to your father in the crowd.

This was it, right?

There was an echo of the efficient, "I now pronounce you husband and wife", and the group before you claps in respect.

The man who you had just married is bending down to your ear, but he doesn't say anything. You look him from your peripheral vision, and he is tilting his head down the aisle a bit.

Ah, yes. Your hand is in his own as you go back down where you just came. Your life is forever changed now.

So much lay before you, so much for you to worry about, but the one thing on your mind in this moment is how the grip of your husbands hand is infinitely more pleasant than the aggressive clasp your father had on you.

You hope against hope, that maybe, you would never feel the harsh grip of a man again.

But that was too wishful, was it not?

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bishiedoll · 5 months ago

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Wedding dress inspired by a Macoto Takahashi illustration from 1979 for the exhibition "Kyoto Manga Girls Collection" at the Kyoto International Manga Museum, 2012.

#高橋真琴 #takahashi macoto #retro shoujo #macoto takahashi #wedding dress #vintage shoujo #vintage illustration #70s #fav

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goodplan-ipromise · 1 year ago

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✨🌸Throw back to when I was getting a dress fit test for my wedding 🌸✨

It was heavier than expected, like walking with a blanket comforter around the shoulders✨Comfy✨

#uchikake #kimono #japanese fashion #japanese wedding style #langblog #japanese #langblr #obi #bridal #kyoto #japan

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starfawn-wildwife · 2 years ago

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on the banks of the Ōi River, he asked me if I would become his wife…and somewhere in between all of the kisses and tears, I said yes 🩵

#I can’t believe we get to plan a wedding now!!#it’s like a dream #I love him so much #kyoto #arashiyama #newly engaged

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ilylovelyz · 2 years ago

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⍣ ೋ Honeymoon

˚ · . ushijima x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ timeskip!ushijima, manly!ushijima, god hes such a man, big dick moment 3., pregnancy, pregnant sex, "traditional" lifestyle, creampie, reader has mommy boobs, reader is a lil chubby, lactation, soft sex, size kink, slight manhandling, secret relationship, was listening to lana del rey's honeymoon

we both know that it's not fashionable to love me but you don't go 'cause truly there's nobody for you but me.

bright cameras flash amongst the dense crowd as ushijima is guided along with his teammates, surrounded by a dozen security. many shout and yell out questions directed towards the tall men, yet remain unanswered as they continue their way towards the stadium.

it's after the volleyball match when ushijima is approached by a female reporter, insistent with her microphone as she pesters him with the same questions he's been asked for a long time. "was that your wife you were with back in kyoto?"

he only wipes the sweat off his brow with his handkerchief before he's walking away from her, leaving her unanswered.

albeit, not truly knowing to what extent, ushijima does know that he's considerably favorable towards his fans for a specific reason. unfazed by the lingering eyes of the crowds of lusting women that waited outside the stadium specifically for him, he continues his way towards his car.

the strange favoritism seems to not be limited to only his fans, but also to some other professional volleyball players as well. he remembers the few scandals he's been in due to some delusional professional volleyball players claiming they "felt a spark," or whatever nonsense along those lines after speaking to him only a handful of times.

he ignores the catcalls and whistles from the women, all trying to get his attention through sultry gestures and inappropriate language. to a normal man, he would certainly be stoked by all of these gorgeous women wanting his attention, maybe perhaps give in to their desires.

however, as ushijima settles into the comfort of his car, driver greeting him, he thinks deeply. but he's not a normal man, and he does knows that. he searches throughout his gym bag with care, not particularly rushing to find the object he's searching for.

he knows he's much different from a normal man. he's of great skill, body athletic and big. it doesn't take much to notice the way his biceps bulge, or the way he his strong thighs flex and buckle, somehow supporting his heavy weight. he goes to the gym every day, training intensely for hours at a time. he goes to great lengths to meal plan and eat healthy foods to support his exhausting training and schedule. hell, he's a well known professional volleyball player.

he doesn't get the obsession though. he doesn't understand what does particularly make him stand out compared to his teammates. he's just like any other good volleyball player. maybe better, but he still would like to be viewed just as equal as to his teammates.

his eyes glint up at the object he's been searching for. he pulls it out, careful not to drop it due to the slight tremble of the car. if he dropped it, then it might as well be the end of the world. he'd probably not see it again, lost to the monstrosity of this luxurious car.

he gently pushes the accessory onto his ring finger. black and silver, lined with tiny diamonds, a marital ring. he thinks back to the time he had a discussion with his wife, a little while before the wedding and coincidentally searching for wedding rings, he had asked out of curiosity why do these random women obsess over a total stranger?

it takes awhile, but he's eventually driven to his home. quite large, a traditional minka, for a traditional guy like ushijima. he steps out of the black car, a mercedes, the grovel crunch pleasingly under his feet. his ears perk up at the little laughs coming from the garden at the side of the minka. he's bowing to his driver before heading off towards the joyful laughter, eyes softening at the eyes of his wife.

you're running around the garden, seemingly playing a game of tag with your only-daughter toddler, and currently, only child. he watches from the edge of the garden, softly smiling at this beautiful moment of what is the love of his life playing with what is the product of his love.

although wanting the wonderful moment to last a little longer, he decides to interrupt when he notices you're not wearing shoes. "y/n, where are your shoes?" you almost freeze in your steps, clumsily almost slipping on the puddles of water. you turn your head towards the familiar voice, cheeks warming up out of innocent embarrassment.

"a-ah, i didn't notice you coming home 'toshi." you squeak out, taking a moment to notice the way your apron is stained with various liquids, feet covered with what you can only guess is mud, grass, and groundwater. your attention is shifted when your young daughter yells out of excitement at her father's presence.

"papa!" she yells, small bare feet patting against the hard concrete as she runs up to her father. he can only watch her from above as she hugs his leg, small hands only reaching so far up to his hips. he watches dotingly over his daughter, not resisting to swoop her up in his arms, placing a soft kiss onto her soft baby skinned cheek.

he carries her with one arm as he walks over to you, eyebrow slightly arched with concern as he takes in your current figure. "ah.. kaiya snuck out to play in the garden five minutes before you arrived. i had to chase her down to stop her from eating the berries, sorry 'toshi." you meekly say, hand coming up to caress the back of your neck.

he leans down to place his daughter onto the engawa, "go wipe your feet off kaiya," he says, watching the way his daughter listens begrudgingly, knowing better than to disobey her father. she might not get dessert if she doesn't listen. he then turns to you, staring at you closely.

you're much smaller than him, barely reaching his shoulder when barefooted. his eyes are low, mouth pursed into a line. "you shouldn't go without your shoes, you'll get sick," he says monotonously. to anyone who didn't know him, he might just sound cold and maybe even annoyed, but to you, someone who's known him for over a decade, you know he's speaking purely from the heart.

smiling at his adorable concern, you straighten your back to showcase your good health. "i'm okay. don't you worry." he blinks at your pride before turning slightly towards the house, a hand of his reaching for yours. you take him up on his offer, lightly blushing at his sweet warmth that is his hand.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

ushijima is careful with his steps as he walks through the halls of house, not wanting to wake up his young daughter. much like her father, she's a light sleeper. he walks into the kitchen, where he is not surprised to see you cleaning up after dinner.

you squeal once again when you turn around to see him with the remaining plates in his hands. he's so quiet, almost like a ghost. "you scared me." you say, hand coming to press against your suddenly rapid beating heart. "you don't need to be doing the chores, why don't you rest?" he offers, placing the stacks of dishes into the sink. he'll wash the dishes tomorrow morning before going to the gym.

you sigh at his words, hand coming up to his forearm as he steps closer to you, looking down at you with those beautiful green orbs of his. his hands come up to the tie of your apron, quick to untie it and set it onto the counter. he places his palms onto the sides of your belly, finding comforting in what is your very pronounced baby bump.

you smile at the soft moment, ushijima, although still slightly struggling to put into words how much he loves you, he will never fail to show you through physical affection. his touch is gentle, almost as if he's scared, almost hesitant to cradle your bump with his burly hands. he's so gentle, it makes you giggle.

he raises a confused at your strange giggle, before asking turning his attention back to your unborn baby. "have you thought of a name for her yet?" he asks, fingers prodding and poking curiously at your cotton clad bump. "her? you want it to be a girl? another one?" you grin, lightly slapping his shoulder.

you're just at your 6th month mark, the special appointment just a week away. while you were at your 6th month, you did look more heavily pregnant than that. it wasn't unexpected after all, ushijima was a big guy who made big babies. all jokes aside, if you're going to be honest, before your first child, you never really thought ushijima was much of a family-oriented person.

while you did know he was somewhat traditional, you never knew it was to this extent. the moment he earned enough income, he had bought a house solely with his money, and urged you to quit your job, even though you didn't even have a child with him at the time. the two of you were freshly married, and yet he still wanted to you stay at home. "i just want my wife to be happy and comfortable at home."

and if you're going to be even more honest, it's like his love for you had doubled since then. even seemingly, if it's even possible, tripling with the birth of your first daughter. lavish nonstop gifts and flowers constantly showing up at your door while he's away, sweet little cards with written "i love you"s.

just how long ago was it when he was still a young lad, still wearing his school uniform and still deciding on his future? it flusters you a little, the way he's such a man now. his hand moves down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

he dotes in the way you meekly avoid eye contact with him, even after all these years, after the countless of love making the two of you had, you still blush even when holding his hand. "y/n," he calls, free hand coming up to your chin to make you look at him. he revels in the light blush on your cheeks before he's leaning down to kiss you.

the kiss is soft and tender, his lips taking the lead and pushing against yours. his grip on your waist prevents you from pulling away, effectively trapping you in, it makes you wonder if he knows how strong his grip on you is. you swallow back the nervous lump in your throat when he's suddenly pushing towards you more, angling his face to get impossibly closer.

it's not long before the kiss was leaving you breathless and causing you to tremble on your swollen ankles. noticing, ushijima effortlessly picked you up, carrying you bridal style to the master bedroom.

he's everything but unfocused, eyes watching intently as he caressed your body. he undressed you, careful and slowly like the first time. and still like the first time, his pupils dilated at the sight of your bare skin and curves. he was quick to attach his lips to your neck, suckling at your collarbone and every soft spot he could think of, leaving angry red marks wherever he could latch onto.

laying you down onto your back, he threw aside your bra, his hands massaging your plush and heavy mounds. "they've gotten bigger.." he said to himself, noticing the way your breasts nearly spill out of his considerably large hands. his cock twitches in his pants when a spill of milk leaks out of your swollen bud.

like nature, he takes your nipple into his mouth, eagerly sucking down the milk that trickles out. his other hand squeezes at your free breast before he's switching to said breast and repeating his actions onto the puffy bud. ushijima has always seemed to love your breasts, even when they were much smaller than what they are now.

he finally pulls away from them, pushing the mounds together, kneading them like a type of stress ball. he could play with your breasts all day, but unfortunately he doesn't seem to have the luxury for that.

you coo out his name, eyes brimming with tears of pleasure. he leans down to kiss you passionately, only pulling away when you tug at the hem of his t-shirt. he gives into your request, quickly discarding the t-shirt. you've seen his body many times before, yet you still cannot help the obsession you have with it.

ushijima notices the lustful look you have in your eyes, noting that it's similar to those of the strange women who surrounded him earlier. as your palm comes up to caress against his hard abs, trailing up and down his pecs and abdomen, he suddenly remembers what you told him during the early days of your relationship, when he asked you why you got so excited when he took his shirt off during a swim party.

"you're such a man, 'toshi.." you mewl when his finger pads come up to press against your clit. yes, thats it. because he's "manly." your hand grips at his bicep, squeezing the muscle as he slides a finger into your wet cunt. he grunts slightly as your walls contract around his finger, eventually adding a second.

he remembered being told that women eventually become loose after a while, but that was when he was young. now, that he's an experienced man, he knows how dumb that stupid belief is, most likely made up by some pitiful losers. he even has some evidence to back it up, as you're still so tight, even after all these years of taking his thick cock.

"'toshi.." you cry out, clawing at his arm when he adds in a third finger. he doesn't hesitate to find your sweet spot, abusing it ruthlessly, looking down at you with curious eyes as you writhe underneath him. with years of skill and dedication, he's making you cum far quicker than you expected. you arch your back, fingers gripping around his bicep as you clench your eyes shut, orgasm taking you by storm.

in the aftershock, your thighs are already trembling, tears falling from your eyes as you try to regain your breath. obviously, you know this is not the end of his pleasurable torture. his hand attaches at the back of your knee, pulling your left leg upwards towards your chest. he climbs closer to you, his right leg crosses over your right leg and tucking underneath your calf.

you look down as you begin to take deep breaths, seeing as ushijima's hand wraps around his cock so he can guide it towards your helpless cunt. the stretch has you closing your eyes shut, tears escaping as the burn shakes you to your core. "f-fuck.." you rasp out, only relaxing when ushijima places a comforting hand against yours.

he slowly rocks his hips into yours, grunting slightly in pleasure at the feel of your gummy walls around him. he pushes your knee back a little further, but theres only so much as it could go before it's stopped by your precious baby bump.

you're so beautiful, so pretty underneath him. he can't help the way his cheeks flush a little at the way you're sprawled out underneath him. face contorted in pleasure, your swollen breasts jiggle with every movement, belly round with his second child, you're everything he's ever wanted. you're everything he's only ever wanted to have.

he soon finds himself losing himself to you, hips desperately humping against you so hard it has you jolting against the futon. his hand comes up to cradle your tear scarred cheek, admiring your gentle features.

you feel yourself grow a little conscious at the way your body seems to jiggle a little more than usual. you remember the time you were too a little more toned and active, but with your first daughter you had gained a healthy amount of weight, as per ushijima, and the doctor's request.

you remember asking ushijima if you should get back into fitness to lose the gained weight, only to be surprised when he said a stern "no," faced contorted with distaste and bewilderment. later that same night, and even now, your fears were/are soothed at the way he pawed at the plush of your waist and thighs, finding comfort in the soft flesh.

"ah, wakatoshi 'm gunna cum." you moan out, but before you could even finish your sentence, ushijima is rolling his hips in a way that has nearly has you screaming in pleasure if not for the nearby pillow. he knows you like the back of his hand, almost studying your body in his younger days to find more ways to pleasure you more sufficiently.

"y/n-" he croaks out, doubling down and throwing himself against your body, hiding his face in the valley of your breasts as you clenched around him so tightly it caused his own orgasm. he stilled against you, cock sheathed entirely inside you, spilling his warm seed inside you as he held his own breath, cursing silently as you milked him so deliciously.

finally, he let go of the breath he was holding, his thighs slightly trembling as he held himself up as to not crush you. his cock, now limp, left the warm confirms of your core as he pulled away so he could lay down next to you. his arm wrapped around your shoulders, trying to pull you close to him until he was reminded of your baby bump.

you giggled at the way he fumbled to somehow get you flush against him, eventually getting comfortable into a position that had you on your still back while he was on his side, head resting against his neck while his arm laid over your chest.

"i love you." he whispered softly, nose inhaling deeply into the sweet scent of your hair as you slept. he listened quietly to the your soft snores, wanting to keep this moment locked, hidden away forever.

please leave a like and repost with tags :)

#haikyuu pregnant #haikyu x reader #haikyuu breeding #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu fluff #ushijima fluff #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x you #hq ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader smut #ushijima smut #⨳ pregnant sex #⨳ soft sex #⨳ family dream #⨳ big dick

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satorusugurugurl · 1 year ago

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My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,498

Warning: stress, yelling, fighting, kisses, insecurity, self doubt, language, suggestive, whipped cream

A/N: Things are getting are getting spicy now!! Y'all aren't ready for part four!! A reminder, of you want to be included in the tag list YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One, Part Two, Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

The smell of cedarwood, one you used to love, was now suffocating you like a toxic gas. Your eyes blurred in shock as Toji pressed his chest against your back. Letting you know this was real and you weren't in a drunken haze.

“Are you listening to me?” Toji spoke again, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “I told you we need to talk.”

A year and a half ago, the old you would have given in, allowing him to give you any explanation he pulled out of his ass. You, however, had grown in your time away. You didn't have to listen to him.

“I don't want to talk to you.” Your voice trembles, not in fear, but in a boiling rage that was settling in your chest. “Get the fuck off me.” The disbelief in his eyes is almost comical, but he doesn't move. “Get! The! Fuck! Off! Me!”

Your ex listened this time, promptly stepping back and holding both of his hands out in front of him. “Jesus fuck, sorry. But I'm serious about talking to you.”

A scoff of disbelief is the only answer you gave him as you washed your hands. If you kept your body constantly moving, you wouldn't freeze up again. Despite your best efforts, your traitorous hands continued trembling. Unfortunately for you, Toji noticed this, his eyes lingering on your hands before drifting to your face as you dried them off.

“Do I make you that nervous?”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?!” The rage finally boiled over, like hot milk on a stove. “Nervous?! You think I'm nervous?!” You stormed forward, jabbing your pointer finger into his chest.

Your rage and finger jabs only have Toji rolling his eyes. His much larger hand shot up, grabbing and squeezing your wrist. His skin on yours made you feel a certain way. That contact was something you craved before, something you felt like you needed. Now? That contact made your stomach churn with nausea.

“Ya’ done lying?”

“Let me go.”

“No, I asked you a question. Are ya’ done lying?” Toji steps forward, crowding you against the wall. “Because we both know you're lying to yourself. You are nervous; you've been nervous since you stepped foot here in Kyoto with your friend.” His words stung like lashings from a whip. “I make ya’ nervous; that's why you've been avoiding me. And I don't like being ignored.”

A rage burned in your eyes as he waited for you to respond. How dare he corner you and act like you were the problem! You yank your wrist away, glaring up at him.

“That friend of mine is my boyfriend! And I'm not nervous around you. I can't stand you. Being around you makes me sick.”

“Oh, that's rich. Why is that Y/N? Why do I make you sick?”

“What makes me sick?! Toji, did you forget you broke off our engagement a month before our wedding? You broke my heart! Being around you fuckin’ hurts; do you not understand that!? So what you see as nervousness is me trying to heal!” Toji’s eyes widened as you continued your rant. “So that’s why I have no desire to talk to you! I don't care what you have to say!” But knowing Toji, he wouldn't back down so easily. “But you won't leave me alone unless you say whatever the fuck it is you want to say! So what is it, come to gloat about your life as a married man? Come to show me a picture of your pretty wife?”

“Watch it.”

“Or did she find out about your gambling problem and can't handle it? So you want me back so I can take care of us?” You had fully intended for that to hurt, but your insults just bounced off him. A smirk turned at the corner of his scarred lip.

“You think I'd actually want you back?”

His words stung like a million scorpion stings. It knocked the air out of your lungs as you felt your stomach drop. Toji slowly came to the realization of what he had said, his smirk falling as he saw the tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, fuck, I didn't mean it like that.��

You shoved your way past him; your heart thundered in your ears as you grabbed your sweater and bag off your chair. All of your friends were far too drunk to notice the state you were in, waving bye as you headed for the door, dialing Satoru’s number. Hot tears flowed down your cheeks as you tried to keep some composure.

He picked up on the first ring. “Our first drunk call; I'm so excited to hear all the cute things you're gonna say.” When Satoru doesn’t hear the commotion of the bar, his teasing tone vanishes. “Y/N?” God, he sounds sincere, like he might care for you. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

“T-Toji’s here, and I—” a sob rips through your chest, “I can't do this.”

“Where are you?” You listen to him shuffling a door opening and closing.

“Outside of the bar.”

“Is he around?”

“N-No.”

His breathing was shallow; the background was breaking in and out. Was he—running? Why would he come running to you?

“Good, stay there; I'm on my way.” The line went dead, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone.

The inn was nearby, so it shouldn't take him long, maybe a ten-minute walk, maybe faster since he was running. But he couldn't come soon enough. Your head kept turning toward the door to the bar, anxiously waiting to see if Toji came out. God, you prayed he wouldn't.

Your chest was constricting, and your eyes blurred as you fought against the tears threatening to escape. You didn't want to cry more. Because it was a waste of time, energy, and tears. There was no sense in crying over something so silly!

“You think I’d actually want you back?”

His words were on a loop. Slicing into your still bleeding heart, cutting new wounds, deeper ones. Which was so stupid! You would never get back to him! Even if he asked you to. You two had grown apart, your relationship toxic. So why did it bother you so much? Words from a man that hadn't been in your life for so long!

You glanced towards the night sky, the stinging feeling slowly turning numb. You knew deep down why it hurt. A reason that made you feel sick and weak. Like some fucking pathetic character from a soapy book.

If Toji didn't want you, who would?

A hand gently grabs your shoulder, turning you around. You turn, expecting to look up to the almost magical blue eyes of Satoru. Only you can find dark blue eyes. You step back, only to have Toji grab your purse and yank it, pulling You back towards him.

“Leave me the fuck alone!!” Toji flinched at your broken plea. “Haven't you done enough tonight?!”

“Look, I’m sorry! I didn't mean it like that!”

You fight against every urge to punch him. “Oh!? Okay, what did you mean when you said, ‘You think I’d actually want you back?’ Because it seems like you meant it to me!” Your purse falls to the ground as Toji pulls you closer. His hands clamp down on your upper arms to prevent you from moving away.

“Will you shut the fuck up for five damn minutes!?”

More tears stream down your face; your eyebrows knitted together pathetically as he bent down slightly, forcing you to look up at him. There was no use fighting it. He wasn't going to stop; you were trapped.

Satoru was breathing heavily as he turned the same corner he'd walked with you earlier. When he did, he froze in his tracks, seeing you and your prick of an ex standing outside. Toji was squeezing you, yelling something in your face. Satoru’s heart clenched when he saw the way your eyebrows pinched together. You were distraught, visibly upset, and you—you were crying.

Something inside Satoru’s chest snapped, and he bolted forward, rage painted over his features. “Hey!”

Your head whirled towards his voice, Y/H/C hair, tear droplets flying. He swears it happened in slow motion; fuck, you were even pretty when you were upset. Your face softened, the disdain melting away like snow in the spring. All because he was there, knowing that he had that sort of effect on you made his heart race. Making you happy was all Satoru had wanted to do.

Something he had never felt with clients before. Because the more time he spent with you, the more Satoru got to know you, the less you became another client on his calendar. To him, you weren't just a number, a dollar in his bank account, were Y/N.

His Y/N.

Not this fucking assholes. Not anymore! Satoru grabbed Toji’s wrist, forcing him to release you. Your ex-fiance glowered as Satoru pulled you to stand behind him. When your hands clung to his shirt, he released his vice grip on Toji’s wrist.

“You again.” Toji sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, me, the boyfriend.” Satoru crowded Toji, the two men face to face. “I’m guessing you didn't hear me the first time.” He eyed your ex up and down. “If Y/N wants to talk to you, she will. But as you can see, she doesn't, so fuck off.”

Satoru backed off as you buried your face into his back. He knew you were crying. Still, your body was trembling, hands clinging to him, keeping you grounded so you didn't break down. The state you were in irked him the wrong way, and his fist clenched, longing to hurt the dick who'd hurt you as much as he’s done to you.

“I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and Y/N. So you fuck off.”

“I'm Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo family business. I'm also dating Y/L/N Y/N, and I plan on being with her for a very long time! Got it?! Good now, if you’ll excuse us; I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner, asshole.”

Satoru felt your grip loosen around him, a little gasp leaving your lips. “T-Toru.” A nickname, you gave him a nickname. God, he felt like he could fly.

“I got you, let's go.” Turning around, Satoru started leading you down the sidewalk.

He barely made it a foot away before he was yanked back by the collar of his shirt. Both fists shot up, ready to fight. Toji instead shoved your purse in his face. “Some boyfriend, you are almost leaving without her bag.” Toji waved at you as he headed back into the bar. “We’ll finish this another time, Y//N.” Satoru glared at him until Toji was inside; the second he was gone, Satoru grabbed your hand, leading you down the street.

You didn't say a word, but your smaller fingers intertwined with his, allowing him to lead you away. He pulled into a ramen shop, helping you in a booth before sitting across from you. You were wiping at your eyes, but more tears kept rolling down your cheeks. Satoru’s heart shattered seeing you so upset like this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccuped, “I god, I'm sorry, Satoru.”

“No, don't apologize.” He reached out, replacing your hand with his own. His thumbs gently brushed tears away. “What happened?”

You laughed, but it wasn't your usual happy laugh. No, this laugh was full of sorrow. Satoru didn't like it when you laughed like that.

With a breathless sigh, you leaned into his hand. “Toji cornered me in the bathroom. He kept wanting to talk, and well, things were said.” Your lips brushed over Satoru’s palm as you spoke. “In the midst of my anger, I asked if his wife found out about his gambling problem. And if he wanted me back to take care of him like I did. Jokingly, of course, and he—” Your bottom lip quivered. “H-He uhm, god, it's so stupid—”

“It's not stupid, please tell me.”

You took a deep breath, “He said, ‘You think I’d actually want you back.’” Your voice was so fragile as you repeated those pain-ridden words to him.

“Are you kidding me?” Satoru’s other hand cupped your other cheek. Holding your face gently as he watched as your face contorted with emotional pain. “This is the part where you tell me you're joking, right? That he didn't say that shit to you?” The mind-numbing silence was the answer to his question. “That motherfucker, I should have knocked him out when I had the chance.”

“I-I didn't even mean it, ya’ know? I wouldn't get back together with him.”

“Good, because there's no way in hell I would allow you to get back together with that asshole. You deserve so much more.”

Your Y/E/C widened and glittered under the lights at his words. “You think I deserve more?” Satoru nodded, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones. The look on your face was full of hope, a look Satoru had never seen grace your beautiful features before. But that light faded just as fast as it appeared.

It was doubt; you had been hurt so much in the past that you doubted the genuine words he was saying.

”Hey, I don’t say shit. I don’t mean.” Satoru whispered.

”I know, I just, I’m so confused.”

”Confused because you’re drunk?”

”No, I’m pretty much sober now.” You sighed, pulling away from his grasp. “I just, I’m conflicted.”

”Conflicted over what?” He cocked an eyebrow as you flushed. “Tell me.”

You gulped down some water before running a hand through your hair. “I just, us.” Satoru perked up. “I know I hired you to be my wedding date and all. But I like you.” You chugged more of the water down like it gave you courage. “And it’s not only because you’re super fucking hot. I also like talking to you, god I love talking to you.” Satoru’s cheeks flushed, watching you closely. “But what is the cherry on top of the sundae of you being everything I’d want in a partner is the fact that you came running for me today.”

”Y/N—“

”You dropped everything and came running to me. Like a scene from a Rom-Com.” Your nails clanked nervously over the glass, your gaze drifting toward the awe-struck Satoru. “I know I hired you, and this is your line of work. But I can't stop thinking about the kisses—mmmph!”

Before you could finish your last word, Satoru grabbed your face, kissing you deeply. His fingers gripped your chin but shifted to hold your cheek in his hand, cupping it gently. With wide eyes, you slowly kissed him back, melting against him.

Satoru slowly pulled away, his thumb moving down, caressing your bottom lip as he looked into your eyes. “I’ve never felt like this about a client before.” He panted softly.

”Really?” You smiled wide as Satoru hummed happily.

”That day we talked on the phone, I knew there was something different about you. Something I want to explore.” You giggled, tears forming in your eyes as he wiped them away. “So, what do you say we order dessert here for a little date?”

You looked around before shaking your head. “No.” Satoru’s face went pale as he looked you over, searching for an explanation. “The dessert here is shit, let’s go back to the inn, and I’ll make us something?” Satoru's breath was full of relief as he stood up, grabbing your hand tight.

”You are such a brat.”

Despite being a brat, Satoru followed you back to the inn. He watched with curious eyes as you moved around the clean kitchen. You were pulling out mixing bowls, cream, and chilled sheet cake. Your tiny hands so gracefully washed strawberries, your touch gentle as if they would fall apart if you handled them any other way.

Everything you did was done with skills he did not possess. Slicing strawberries, cutting the vanilla cake into the perfect symmetrical cubes. Satoru found himself under a spell as he watched your every move. God, you looked so gorgeous in a zone like this. Your smile, the way you move with purpose, focused on constructing the dessert you promised him.

You peeked at him from the corner of your eye. He grinned as he rose from his seat, striding towards you as you poured heavy whipping cream into the stand mixer before switching it on at medium speed. Satoru had a certain gleam in his eyes as he oh’d and awed at the cream inside the mixer. He was so fascinated, and he looked like a child in a candy store.

You tapped his shoulder, handing him a small vial. “Want to help me? You can put the vanilla in.” Satoru eagerly took it, opening it. He sniffed the bottle before looking down at you.

“Give me a hand?”

“Sure,” your hand slowly ran over the top of his, “just do a little bit.” The two of you poured some vanilla into the mixing bowl. A rich smell wafted up in the air. “Was this just an excuse for me to touch your hand?”

“What?” His tone was full of faux confusion. “No, never.” He quickly put the vial of vanilla down, his fingers interlacing with yours as he pulled you into his side. “What's the next step, chef?”

“We add in sugar.” You worked your culinary magic, sweetening the whipped cream. “And that is how I make my whipped cream; I use it at the bakery.”

“I love the whipped cream at the Ichigo Cafe.” Satoru groaned out, looking into the bowl. “So fluffy and sweet!”

You tapped your fingers on the bowl. “Why don't you taste it? Tell me if it's sweet enough for you. Mr. Six packets of sugar in my coffee.” He turned to face you, resting his hand on his hip with a smirk.

“I am not at all ashamed of my likes, Y/N.” he pulled the top of the mixer up. “I like my treats sweet; I am the Gordon Ramsey of desserts!”

“Satoru, watch out for the switch!”

Satrou smacked the switch while scooping a finger full of whipped cream. The whisk attachment spun around several times, splattering the two of you with bloats of sweetened cream. Satoru quickly turned it off, looking around at the white mess.

A big blob of whipped cream fell off his nose, smacking into the metal table. The sound, his eyes slowly glancing at it, and the stunned look on his face knocked over your giggle box. Your head tilted back as rich, warm laughter flooded the kitchen. Making Satoru melt as he wiped the whipped cream off his face, licking it off his fingers.

The sight of his fingers dipping into his mouth. Had you choking on your laughter? Cerulean eyes burned as he slowly pulled his finger out, smirking. His thumb brushed out your lip, smearing whipped cream over it. The action had you breathing heavily.

“Tastes sweet, but I think you're sweeter.” He leaned down, his lips brushed over your cheek. “Ten times sweeter.”

You closed the distance this time. Pusjingnhis back against the table. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down and deepening the kiss—the taste of your whipped cream lingering on his tongue. Your sudden boldness had Satoru stumbling, eyes wide as you shoved Your tongue in his mouth, much like he had done to you earlier.

He whined, shutting his eyes tight as he grabbed Your hips, pulling you tight against him. “You're so beautiful, god Y/N.” He whispered in between heated kisses. “I think I started falling for you since that first phone call.” His honesty had you whining against his lips as he sucked and nipped at your bottom lip.

“Satoru~”

“God, I want you; I want you so bad, Y/N.”

Your heart lurched into your throat as you pulled away, staring into those blue eyes you were falling for. Satoru wanted you. He legitimately wanted you. Not just to take you out on a date, but he wanted you in ways you hadn't been wanted in a very long time. Ways you told yourself and Satoru you didn't need. But the desperation in his kisses, how his tongue moved against yours, and the hard bulge growing in his pants had your heart thundering, utterly breathless, and oh-so-wet

“Toru.” He groaned, trailing kisses over your neck, his hand squeezing your hips. “Toru.”

He pulled back, shutting his eyes tight as he rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he sighed, “I’m sorry as much as I want you. I don't want to rush you.” Your hands trailed over his toned stomach, fingers undoing the button to his jeans.

“Toru, take me to our room.”

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yanderenightmare · 1 year ago

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Gojo Satoru

TW: angst ig

gn reader

Gojo has loved you forever.

When the two of you were toddlers, he was never shy about kissing you and holding your hand. It was only when the two of you began school that he was taught that it wasn’t proper – a schooling that made him frown.

But his love for you never dimmed despite it. Growing up, he became nothing shy of a true bully pulling his crush’s pigtails. He’d flash his six-eyes and limitless techniques and tease you for your subpar cursed energy – often rescuing you like a faux knight in shining armor.

But despite acting like your older brother – he’s really been dreaming of you in carnal ways ever since he first found out what sex was.

Which is why he’d sling his arm around your shoulder when you were talking with other guys – having grown up so tall, he’d have to all but bow in order to level with the small fries – a sly smirk on his lips with his shades low on his nose.

“Ah – I didn’t know you had a boyfriend – I’m sorry.” They’d always stutter – feeling the chills of those icy blues pierce through to their bones.

“Ugh, Gojo – get off – you’re too heavy.” You’d argue in a familiar whine, shoving at his lanky shape – already fuming. “He’s not my boyfriend – he’s just a dumbass with no respect for personal space.”

“Oh – I’m more than that~” He’d insist. “Y’know, we got married on the playground when we were six.”

You’d roll your eyes at his attics. Huffing out a growl at him. But no amount of clenched fists and angry brows could hide the embarrassment. And ultimately, no guy really dared try their luck with you after being introduced to the white-haired childhood friend giving them death glares.

Which is why it’s baffling when he finds out about the wedding.

He’d seen you less and less over the years. He’d been busy as the newly awakened honored one – new missions almost every day.

You’d capped out as a second-grade sorcerer and decided to become a teacher in Kyoto – sent out on missions every now and again, but mostly just to supervise students.

He’d been glad you settled on something safe and not something you’d sooner end up being killed – like him. But he wasn’t overly fond that you’d chosen Kyoto over Tokyo where he could keep an eye on you.

But he supposes that’s exactly why you’d done it.

He knows he coddles you – knows you’ve always hated it – knows you hate it because you know he’s right to do it – knows you’d be dead if it weren’t for him.

How could you marry someone else? How could you choose anyone other than him?

He doesn’t respond to the invite. Doesn’t answer when you call.

He’s gone for several months.

You know through the assistant supervisors that he’s still accepting missions – out on the prowl, killing curses – doing little else.

You try to deny knowing why he’s upset. You love him like family, but he’s always been a child with too many toys – you, one of them. This is him throwing a fit over someone else taking what’s his.

But you know he’ll come to his senses after cooling off. You know he’ll be at the wedding – all smiles – if not happy, then pretending for your sake.

In all his strange ways, you know that he loves you. And despite being childish, you know he’ll do the adult thing and let you go.

The two of you would never have worked. Which is why you’ve never given in to his googly eyes – that hand on your thigh when the two of you’d been drinking – that lingering stare resting on your lips – and those silver-toned words on his.

He’s with someone new every other week despite his unfair hold on you – keeping you for himself – placing you on a shelf among the other things he hopes he’ll one day grow into – like a pair of shoes bought a size too big.

But you know he’ll never get there. He’ll never mature enough to hold a relationship for any longer than a month or so – never mature enough to settle down somewhere and not hotel-hop from one five-star to the next – never mature enough to respect you the same way he respects himself – never mature enough to commit to anything but himself.

The two of you could never be a couple. You could never love each other in the ways you want to be loved. He would want you to stay at home and wait for him to come back – longingly as a sweet housewife would – and you’d want him to encourage you in your respectful career – happy for you like a supportive husband would. None of it matched.

You love him, but you would never be happy with him. You would never feel respected.

So, that night when the two of you’d shared a kiss – you’d held him at arm's length and told him it was a mistake – that it would only serve to ruin your friendship.

He’d taken it as you being flighty – just a cute road bump before you’d finally realize you were meant for him – before you’d come running to his arms with pretty tears dropping from your eyes while throwing yourself at him – all apologies and confessions and desperate kisses – telling him you couldn't live without him.

But there you are…

Walking down the aisle for someone else.

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orisho119 · 1 year ago

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This is a framed Japanese obi that is estimated to have been manufactured over 40 years ago. The frame is custom-made so that a Japanese obi obi over 4 meters long can fit inside the frame. The Japanese-made obi inside is old and has some stains and imperfections, but it can be removed from the frame and worn. Please enjoy this framed Japanese obi as a profound and stylish piece of art.

The frame size is 35cm wide and 56.5cm high.

The size of the obi in the frame is 30cm wide and 412 cm long.

The design is a TSURUBISHI.

shipping Free shipping

#kyoto #uchikake #wedding #京都 #着物 #cool japan #obi #kimomo

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mixolya · 1 month ago

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ᓚᘏᗢ — eternal echoes. rin itoshi.

synopsis: in which it doesn't matter which year it is, you and rin itoshi would always find back to each other.

warnings: death (it's a semi-happy ending). wc: 5,7k

note: i enjoyed writing this too much aaa!! sad letters are my thing 💔💔

year 1858. emperor and empress.

the first time you met him, you were royalty.

rin was the emperor of a vast, sun-drenched kingdom in ancient japan, his rule as unyielding as the mountains that bordered his lands. you were the daughter of a powerful daimyo, your marriage to him a strategic alliance meant to unite your families and bring stability to the region.

you did not expect to fall in love with him. but the moment you saw him standing at the altar, his eyes meeting yours, you felt it. that pull. that magnetic pull.

the wedding was a grand affair, held in the imperial palace. the air was thick with the scent of cherry blossoms, the sound of traditional instruments filling the courtyard. but all you could focus on was him. rin. the way his hand felt in yours, the way his voice sounded as he recited his vows, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

"do you think we shall be reincarnated as a married couple as well?" you asked him one night, as you stood on the balcony of the palace, the moon casting a silver glow over the gardens below.

he didn't answer right away. instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "perhaps," he said finally. "in another life."

you didn't know if he meant it, but it didn't matter. because in that moment, you knew you'd follow him anywhere.

your life together was full of challenges. political intrigue, wars, the weight of ruling an empire. but through it all, you had each other. and that was enough.

until it wasn't.

the war came suddenly, like a storm that had been brewing on the horizon for years. rin led his armies to the front lines, his determination as fierce as the fire in his eyes. you stayed behind, ruling in his absence, but your heart was with him.

when the news came, it was like the world has stopped.

rin had been gravely injured in battle.

you rushed to the battlefield, your heart racing. the sight that greeted you was one of chaos, smoke and blood and the cries of the wounded. but all you could see was him.

he was lying on a wooden bunk, his armor stained with blood, his face pale and fatigued. but when he saw you, he smiled. a smile, a faint smile, but it was enough.

"you have come," he said, his voice weak but filled with warmth.

"how could i have stayed away?," you asked, your voice breaking as you knelt beside him.

he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "forgive me," he whispered.

"do not," you said, tears streaming down your face. "do not apologize. only stay with me."

silence stretched between you before he spoke. instead, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for an answer. "in another life," he said finally. "in another life, i shall seek thee out and find thee once more."

and then, as the tears fell and the world faded away, he was gone.

you held him in your arms, the weight of his body a cruel reminder of what you had lost. but even as the pain threatened to consume you, you held on to his words.

"and i shall find thee too," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

year 1898. true fate.

the second time, you were philosophers.

you met in the bustling streets of kyoto, the city alive with the energy of scholars and seekers, all drawn to the ancient capital in pursuit of wisdom. you had come to study under a renowned master, your heart set on unraveling the mysterious of existence. but it wasn't the teachings of your mentor that would change your life. it was him.

rin.

he was standing on a wooden platform in the heart of the marketplace, his voice flowing smoothly over the crowd’s murmurs. rin's words were sharp, thougtful, cutting through the noise with an intensity that demanded attention. you stopped to listen, drawn not just by the sound of his voice but by the way he carried himself.

"the universe is not confined to our understanding," he said, scanning the crowd. "it exists beyond our perceptions, beyond our fears, beyond our desires. to seek truth is to acknowledge that we may never grasp it."

the crowd murmured, some nodding in agreement, others shaking their heads in dissent. but you stood there, mesmerized and fascinated.

when the lecture ended, you approached him, your hands clutching the scrolls you had been carrying. "your words," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "they have struck a chord within me."

he turned to you. "did they truly?"

you nodded, your throat suddenly dry. "indeed, i have long held that truth is not an object to be possessed, but a pursuit we must forever follow."

a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "you are different," he said.

"what is it you mean?"

"most people come to these debates with the intent to prove their righteousness," he said. "you, however, came to listen."

you felt your cheeks flushed, but you held his gaze. "i believe there is more to be learned from the questions we ask than from the answers we claim to have."

he studied you for a moment, his eyes, those beautiful eyes, searching yours. then he nodded, as if he had found something he was looking for. "come with me," he said.

you followed him to a quiet spot by the kamo river, where the water reflected the lanterns that lined the banks. the night was cool, the air filled with the soft chirping of crickets and the distant sound of laughter. you sat beside him on the grass, the silence between you comfortable, almost familiar.

"do you believe in fate?" you asked after a while, your voice soft.

no answer from him. instead, he looked out at the river, his expression thoughtful. "i believe in choices, yes," he said finally. "but i also hold that some things are simply inevitable."

"like what?"

he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours. "like this," he said.

your breath caught in your throat. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "it is as if i have known you before. as though we have spoken these words a thousand times, across a thousand different lives."

"do you think such thing is possible?" you asked, your voice trembling. "to find one another again, in another life?"

"yes."

year 1924. poetry lives forever.

the third time, you were writers.

you met in a small, dimly lit café tucked away in the heart of milan. the air smelled of coffee and old books, and the sound of rain tapping against the windows filled the silence. he sat at a corner table, his hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled furiously in a notebook.

you noticed him immediately. not just because he was beautiful, though he was, but because there was something about him that felt familiar.

you didn't mean to approach him. but when you dropped your pen and it rolled to his feet, he looked up, and your eyes met. for a moment, the world stopped.

"yours?" he asked, holding up the pen.

you nodded. "thank you."

he handed it to you, his fingers brushing against yours.

"i am rin," he said, his voice low.

you told him your name, and he smiled.

that was the beginning.

you started meeting at the café every day. he was working on a novel, and you were writing poetry. at first, you talked about your work, his characters, your metaphors, the way words could build worlds. but soon, the conversations turned deeper. you talked about life, about dreams, about the things that kept you up at night.

"do you ever feel, as though you are endlessly searching for something, though you cannot name it?" you asked him one evening, as the two of you sat by the window, the rain still falling outside.

he looked at you. "all the time," he said. "yet i do not know what it is."

you didn't know either. but you knew that being with him felt like coming home.

one day, you showed him a poem you had written. it was about reincarnation, about the idea that souls find each other again and again, across lifetimes.

"i'll find you in another life," you read aloud, your voice trembling slightly. "no matter where you are, no matter who you become, i'll find you."

when you finished, you looked up at him, scared of his reaction. he was silent for a long time. what did he think?

"how beautiful," he said finally, his voice low.

you felt your cheeks flush. "thank you."

he reached for your notebook, his fingers brushing against yours. "may i read it once more?"

you nodded, handing it to him. he read the poem slowly, his eyes scanning the words as if committing them to memory. when he finished, he looked up at you.

"how curious. i, too, write of reincarnation," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"you do?"

he nodded. "it speaks of two souls bound by an eternal pull, always finding one another, lifetime after lifetime. they do not always recall their past encounters, but the connection that never fades."

your breath caught in your throat. "do they ever uncover the reason?"

he looked out the window, his demeanor reflective. "i believe it is because they are destined to be together," he said finally. "though first they must release all that holds them apart."

you felt your chest tighten. "do you think such thing is possible?"

he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours. "i do not know," he said. "but i believe it is worth seeking, with all that i am."

year 1941. childhood best friends.

the fourth time, you were childhood friends.

it was 1941, in a calm, tiny city. the world was on the brink of war, but in your small corner of the world, life was simple. rin and you grew up next door to each other, your lives intertwined from the moment you could walk.

you spent your days exploring the woods behind your houses, building forts out of fallen branches, and chasing fireflies as the sun dipped below the horizon. rin was quiet, even then, but he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

"do you think we will always be friends?" you asked him one summer evening, as the two of you lay on the grass, the stars stretching out above you.

he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours before answering.

"i think we will always be more than friends," he said finally.

as the war loomed closer, the atmosphere in your small town grew tense. boys you had grown up with began to enlist, their faces filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

rin, however, stayed behind. at least for a while.

"are you not going? why?" you asked him one evening, as the two of you sat on the porch swing, the sound of crickets filling the air.

he looked out at the horizon. "i don't know," he said. "i just feel like i am supposed to be here."

but eventually, the call to duty became too strong to ignore. the day told you he was enlisting, the world seemed to stop.

"i have to go," he said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the weight of his decision.

you felt your chest tighten. "i will write to you," you said, tears slipping. "every day."

he smiled. "i will write back," he promised.

the letters started almost immediately.

rin's first letter arrived just a few weeks after he left. it was short, just a few lines scribbled on a piece of paper, but it was enough to make your heart soar.

"dear y/n,

i miss your voice. the nights here are too quiet, and i hate it.

are you doing okay? tell my parents i am fine, even if it is a lie. tell me about home, about anything. just write to me.

i miss you. more than i should.

rin."

you wrote back immediately, pouring your heart onto the page.

"beloved rin,

thank you for keeping your promise, but it feels so empty without you. the town is the same, yet it feels like a ghost town - maybe it is just me. there are more women than men, though. did they all enlist, too? i do not remember. i only remember you.

school is dull without you. who should i tell about the stars now? i don't even know what is happening in the world anymore. only that you are not here.

every night, i look at the stars and wish for you to come back.

promise me you will.

please come back. i miss you. so much.

sincerely,

y/n"

his letters became your lifeline. they were filled with stories of the other soldiers, of the places he had seen, of the things he had learned. but they were also filled with something else. something deeper, something that made your chest ache.

"dear y/n,

i dreamt of you last night. even though my nights are restless, i forced myself to sleep for a few minutes, and there you were - just like always. we were home again, lying on the grass, watching the stars. you were talking, but i do not remember what you said.

i only remember the way you looked at me, the way the night felt warm, like nothing in the world could do anything to us.

it felt real. too real. like we had done it before, maybe in another life. maybe in a life where i never had to leave.

i miss you too. more than i can say. more than i should.

i will come back.

rin."

you wrote back, your hands trembling as you held the pen.

"my beloved rin,

i dreamt of you too. maybe it is fate. maybe we were always meant to find each other, in this life or another. i like to think that no matter where we go, no matter how far, we will always find our way back. don't you think so too?

i can not wait to see you again. but you did not promise me you would come back. you almost did, but not quite. do it next time, okay? you would not want me to be sad, would you?

i love you i miss you more than words can hold. some nights, it feels unbearable.

sincerely,

y/n"

but then, one day, the letters stopped.

at first, you told yourself it was just the mail being delayed. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the silence became unbearable.

you wrote to him every day, your letters filled with hope and fear and longing. but there was no response.

"my beloved rin,

it has been weeks since your last letter, and every passing day feels like an eternity. i tell myself that you are just busy, that the war keeps you from writing, that the mail is slow. but the silence is louder than any excuse i can make for you. and maybe, just maybe, you have chosen it.

i tell myself a thousand little lies just to keep my heart from breaking, but i think it is already shattered.

i do not know if you are safe. i do not know if you are cold or hungry, if you have enough to eat, if you have made friends or if you are alone. i do not know if you still think of me. if, in the quiet moments between gunfire and marching orders, you close your eyes and see my face the way i see yours every time i close mine.

i miss you. i miss you in ways that feel unbearable, in ways that make it hard to breathe. i miss your voice, the way it could turn the worst days into something softer. i miss your laugh, the one you used to hide behind your hand when i said something ridiculous. i miss the way you used to hold me, like i was something precious, something you could not bear to lose. and yet here i am. lost. left behind. abandoned to empty nights and unanswered letters.

i still look at the stars, rin. every night. just like we used to. i try to find the constellations you loved, the ones you traced with your fingers against the sky, whispering their names like a prayer. and sometimes, for just a moment, i let myself believe that maybe you are looking at them too. that maybe, somewhere across this vast, war-torn world, you remember me.

but what if you do not? what if the war has changed you? what if the boy i love has been swallowed by something i will never understand? what if i am writing to someone who no longer exists?

i want to be angry with you. i want to scream and curse your name for leaving me behind, for choosing this war over me, for breaking every promise you ever made. you once swore you would never leave me, do you remember that? do you remember pressing your forehead against mine and whispering, "always. no matter what."

was that a lie, rin? or did you just not think i was worth staying for?

i know you wanted to be someone great. i know you thought enlisting would make you a man, that it would give your life purpose. but what about our life? did it ever hold any meaning for you? or was i just a quiet part of a life you were always meant to outgrow?

i try to be strong. i try to go about my days as if i am not coming apart at the seams. but everything reminds me of you. the sounds of boots against the pavement. the scent of fresh rain on the earth. the way the wind moves through the trees.

i wish i would have told you my feelings i hold for you. i wish i would have told you how much i love you and how you should not go to the war. that you are walking into death.

i have to ask. do you miss me at all? or has the war taken even that from you?

i do not know how much longer i can do this. how much longer i can keep waiting for letters that may never come, for a love that may no longer exist, for a boy who may already be gone. i do not know if you are alive, and that uncertainty is eating me alive, rin.

but if you are alive. if you are still out there, still breathing, still the same boy who once swore we would always be together. please. please write back. even if it is just to tell me that i no longer have a place in your heart. at least then, i will know to stop waiting.

with all the love i have left,

y/n"

but there was no response.

"do you think he is okay?" you asked your mother one evening, your voice trembling.

she didn't answer right away. instead, she reached for your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. "i don't know, dear," she said finally. "but i think he would want you to keep living."

you didn't know what to say to that. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you began to understand.

one night, as you lay on the grass, it felt like rin was laying right beside you.

"i will find you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "in another life, i will find you again."

and as the tears fell and the world faded away, you knew it was true.

year 1997. poetry truly lives forever.

the fifth time, you were desk mates.

the world felt both vast and small at the same time. you were both in high school, sitting in a classroom that smelled like chalk dust and old books. the desks were arranged in neat rows, and you found yourself seated next to him. rin itoshi. he was quiet, always scribbling in a notebook, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he focused on whatever he was writing. you didn't know much about him, but there was something about him, but it seemed like you couldn't figure that out.

the teacher stood at the front of the room, holding a worn anthology of poetry. "today," she said, her voice crisp and clear, "we will be analyzing a poem by y/n l/n, a poet from the 1920s. y/n, since you share her name, why don't you read it aloud for us?"

of course you have to read it a loud. you were named after the poet. your mother loved her since she was a kid. still, your heart skipped a beat. you weren't used to being called on, especially not in front of the whole class. but you stood up, clutching the book in your hands, and began to read.

"i'll find you in another life," you read aloud, your voice trembling slightly. "no matter where you are, no matter who you become, i'll find you. across lifetimes, across oceans, across the stars. i'll find you."

the room was silent when you finished. you glanced up, your eyes instinctively finding rin's. he was staring at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, almost unsettling.

"thank you, y/n," your teacher said, breaking the silence. "now, let's discuss the themes of the poem. what do you think the poet is trying to convey?"

the class erupted into chatter, but you couldn't focus. you kept glancing at rin, who was now scribbling furiously in his notebook. when the bell rang, you gathered your things, but before you could leave, rin stopped you.

"that poem," he said, his voice low. "it's familiar."

you blinked, surprised. "familiar?"

he hesitated, then opened his notebook and handed it to you. inside were pages filled with his handwriting. lines and lines of poetry, all about reincarnation.

"i dreamt of you last night," one line read. "not as you are now, but as you were before. in another life, in another time, i knew you."

your breath caught in your throat. "you're writing about reincarnation too?"

he nodded, his dark eyes searching yours. "yeah. i don't know why, but it's like i can't stop thinking about it. about the idea that we've lived before. that we have met before."

you didn't know what to say. the poem you had just read, the words rin had written. it all felt too coincidental, too real.

"do you think it's possible?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "to find someone again, in another life?"

"i don't know," he said. "but if it is... i think i would find you."

your chest tightened, your heart pounding in your chest. "and if you did?"

he smiled. "i'd tell you the same thing i'm telling you now."

"what's that?"

"i'm glad i found you."

from that day on, the two of you became inseparable. you spent hours after school in the library, analyzing poems and sharing your own writing. rin's notebook became a treasure trove of stories about lifetimes and love, and you found yourself drawn to his words - and to him.

one day, as the two of you sat under a tree in the school courtyard, rin turned to you, his expression serious.

"would you try to find me in another life? if i would die today?" he asked.

you looked at him, surprised. "why would you say such things?"

"would you?" he ignored your question, his gaze unwavering, determined to get an answer out of you.

the weight of his question hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. you hesitated. but then you looked into his eyes - those dark, intense eyes that always seemed to see right through you - and you knew your answer.

"yes," you said, your voice firm despite the tremor in your chest. "yes, rin, i would."

for a moment, he didn't respond. he just stared at you. then, without warning, he leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as his lip met yours.

the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was afraid you might pull away. but when you didn't, when you leaned into him instead, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, it deepened. deepened, becoming something more. something desperate, something aching, something that felt like it had been building for lifetimes.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"good," he whispered, his voice rough. "because i'd find you too. no matter what."

you didn't know what to answer, but you didn't need to. because in that moment, under the shade of the tree with the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves, you knew it was true.

no matter how many lives you lived, no matter how many times you had to start over, you would always find each other.

you thought.

year 1978. strangers.

the sixth time, you were strangers on a train.

it was a cold winter morning, and the train was packed with commuters. you sat by the window, your breath fogging up the glass as you stared out at the blur of snow-covered buildings rushing past. the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks was soothing, almost hypnotic, and you let yourself drift, your thoughts wandering.

that's when you saw him.

he was sitting across the aisle, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he stared down at a book. there was something about him - you feel like you know him, but this was your first time seeing him.

who was he?

you found yourself glancing at him more than once, your heart skipping a beat every time he turned a page or adjusted his scarf.

you didn't know why, but you felt drawn to him. like a magnet pulling you closer, even though you were sitting perfectly still.

days turned into weeks, and you began to notice him every morning. he always sat in the same spot, always reading, always quiet. you never spoke, but sometimes your eyes would meet, and for a brief moment, it felt like you knew each other for decades.

one morning, the train was unusually empty. you sat in your usual seat, and to your surprise, he sat down across from you.

"mind if i sit here?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

you shook your head, your heart racing. "no, not at all."

for a while, neither of you spoke. he went back to his book, and you pretended to focus on yours. but then, out of nowhere, he looked up and said, "do we know each other?"

you blinked, surprised. "i don't think so, why?"

he hesitated, then closed his book and set it aside. "i don't know, i feel like we know each other from somewhere."

"oh," you said, as the train neared your station. "i have to leave. i'll see you around," you smiled at him before hurrying out the train.

the next morning, he wasn't there.

you waited, your heart sinking as the train pulled into the station and he didn't appear. the days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of him.

you didn't know why, but it felt like a piece of you was missing.

year 2025. bury your feelings.

the seventh time, you were his manager, though neither of you was happy about it.

rin itoshi was a force of nature on the soccer field, a prodigy who had no patience for rules, authority, or anyone telling him what to do. he'd gone through managers like water, firing them one after another, until his mother - a woman as formidable as she was elegant - decided enough was enough.

that's where you came in.

you were the daughter of a close family friend, a rising star in sports management with a reputation for being as stubborn as you were brilliant. when rin's mother assigned you to be his manager, you knew it wouldn't be easy. but you also knew you couldn't say no.

your first meeting was a disaster.

rin stormed into the sleek, modern office of the team's headquarters, his dark eyes blazing with barely contained fury.

"i don't need a manager," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

you didn't flinch. "good thing i'm not here to ask for your permission, then."

he glared at you, his jaw tightening. "you think you can handle this just because you're oh-so-brilliant?"

you met his gaze without hesitation. "i know it."

from that day on, your interactions were a battlefield. you pushed him harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection in every drill, every practice, every match. he resisted at every turn, his pride bristling at the idea of someone telling him what to do.

"you're not my boss," he stared at you after one particularly intense practice session.

"you're right," you shot back, your voice sharp. "i'm the person who's going to make sure you don't waste your talent. whether you like it or not. i promised your parents."

he didn't respond, but the look he gave you could have melted steel.

despite the tension, there were brief moments when you saw something beneath the surface. like when he stayed late after practice, perfecting a shot until his hands were raw and his breath came in ragged gasps. or when he quietly helped a younger player with his technique, his usual arrogance replaced by something softer. every time, you were there, watching him.

one night, someone knocked at your apartment door.

you didn't want to open the door. it was late. too late for anyone to be standing in front of your door. but when you peeked through the peephole and saw rin standing there, you knew it was going to be one of those nights.

you took a deep breath and pulled the door open, ready for another round of heated arguments, only to freeze when you saw him.

he was leaning against the doorframe, his duffle bag hanging loosely from one hand, his other clutching his phone. his usually perfect hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and his pale face looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"what?" you asked, crossing your arms, though you couldn't help but noticed how his eyes, usually sharp and focused, were dull with exhaustion.

"i forgot my keys," he muttered, voice hoarse and rough. "can't get into my place, and i have no one to call."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "you expect me to let you in? just like that?"

rin's lips twisted in a familiar, defiant smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes. "what's the alternative? i sleep in my car?"

you felt the familiar flare of irritation rise up within you. you hated the way he always seemed to get under your skin. the way he acted like he was always one step ahead. but when you took a second look at him, pale, tired, and standing in your doorway like he was too exhausted to even be annoyed with you anymore, you felt a sudden, unwanted pang of sympathy.

"fine," you said, stepping aside reluctantly.

he stepped inside, shoulders sagging slightly as he dropped his bag by the door. there was a strange tension between you both as he stands there, not making eye contact, like neither of you knew what to say next.

the silence stretched, thick with the usual animosity, but there was something else hanging in the air, something you couldn't quite place.

"i didn't think you'd actually let me in," he muttered, looking at the floor.

you shrugged, turning toward the kitchen. "i didn’t think you’d show up at all. it’s not like we’re best friends, rin.”

you both knew it’s not the full truth. you had fought tooth and nail from the moment his mother handed him over to you as his manager, but somewhere along the way, the constant bickering had turned into something else. a little more tolerance. a little more understanding.

still, you couldn't let him off the hook that easily.

“you really should’ve called sae,” you added, tossing a bottle of water his way.

he caught it, staring at it for a second before his lips quirked upward, just a little. “are you teasing me?”

you almost smiled at that, despite yourself. “no.”

he sank into the couch, closing his eyes and leaning back, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. you could see it now. the way his shoulders were tense, the way his hands were trembling just a little as he took a sip of water.

it was almost strange, seeing him like this. the usual confident, untouchable athlete is gone, replaced by someone who looked human, vulnerable even. it made the usual anger between you feel a little more fragile, like it could break at any moment.

“do you need anything else?” you asked, trying to hide the slight softness in your voice.

rin shook his head, not opening his eyes. “just don’t make me go back out there. i don’t know where else to go.”

there was a heaviness in his words. and for the briefest moment, you thought about it, about how much of him had been buried beneath the mask of a football star. but you didn’t dwell on it.

you stepped back, pretending not to hear the vulnerability in his tone. “don’t get comfortable. you’re only staying for the night. i have a ton of work to do, and i'm not babysitting you.”

rin huffed out a laugh, even though it’s weak. “babysitting me? despite you being my manager, i'm still older than you.”

the tension between you two simmered beneath the surface. but for the first time, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. it was fleeting, barely noticeable, but you caught it.

it was something like trust. or maybe need.

you couldn't tell.

but for now, you let him stay. and when you finally turned away to leave the room, you thought about how this felt like there was something the universe tried to tell you both.