yapithoughts

[yapithoughts]

DOING THE GOODNIGHT TREND ON EX-HUSBAND!SATORU

It was a random Saturday night. The twins were finally asleep, and you were curled up on the bed, aimlessly scrolling through TikTok to unwind after an exhausting day. That’s when you stumbled upon a trending challenge—calling your ex to say “goodnight.”

It was ridiculous.. yet oddly tempting

You hesitated. After all, it’s not like you and Satoru didn’t talk. You did — strictly about the kids. Who was picking them up from school, whose turn it was to have them over the weekend. Civil, routine, detached. Nothing personal. Nothing warm.

Still… it wouldn’t hurt, right?

You tapped his name and pressed “call.”

It only took two rings before he picked up.

The phone rang twice before he picked up. You immediately heard papers shuffling in the background—he was still working. Of course. That was always the reason.

“Hey,” you said softly.

He hummed in response, voice slightly concerned. “You good? Is everything okay at home?”

It hit you — how natural that sounded. Like nothing had ever changed. Like you weren’t living in two different homes now.

“Yes, kids just got in bed. They’re already sleeping.” You paused. “Still at work, huh? It’s not obvious you’re a workaholic,” you added with dry sarcasm.

You could sense the shift in the air—he heard it too. It was always like this. You used to dream of a life where he’d work less, be present more. You’d rather be broke and have him home than well-off and alone.

“I have nothing to do. I have no one at home anyways.” His voice was calm, but the words hit different. Like they meant more than what he said out loud.

“Well, do you need help or need anything? Why did you decide to call? Missed me?” His tone turned playful — smug, even. Typical Satoru.

“Well… I was just calling to tell you good night.”

Silence stretched. You could almost picture him freezing in place. You scrunched your face, unsure what kind of response you’d just triggered.

“Are you drunk?” he asked suddenly. “Do you know who you’re talking to? You’re my wife, right? Y/n?”

The word wife hung in the air like a ghost. The papers might say otherwise, but he clearly hadn’t let go.

“Yeah… Is this Satoru?” you asked, biting your nails.

“Yeah, what are you—Are you okay?” His voice had shifted again, this time laced with genuine concern.

“More than okay, yeah,” you replied, stifling a laugh.

“Wait—hold on,” he said abruptly before the line went dead.

You blinked, confused. Why hang up? Did something come up? You thought about posting the clip, but sleep was winning, so you set your phone down.

But sleep didn’t last long.

Your phone buzzed, and your eyes flew open at the sight of his name. Messages were waiting.

Satoru | 23:36

I’m at your door.

Are you asleep?

Hey, you alright?

I don’t want to ring the doorbell cuz I don’t want to startle the three of u.

All traces of sleep vanished. What do you mean he’s here?

You | 23:41

Wait what?

I thought you were at work?

Satoru | 23:42

Well… Now I’m not.

Sorry, did I wake you? You’re supposed to be asleep by now.

I was worried so I left work and stopped a little bit at 7/11 to buy foods that you liked, and some for our kids as well.

Open the door, please.

User182629926:

Please tell me you guys get back together.

ibadlyneedasugardaddypls:

He’s a DILF. You better get back to him or I will.

I’myour#1fan:

They missed each other frrr.

lickmytoes:

Oh he hawt.

bigpapi101:

Gurlll, there’s no way he don’t love you anymore.

pookiebear:

You two just need a little talk and then do Boombayah.

[yapithoughts]

You grew up in a house that was full—but never warm. Where the sound of television drowned out the sound of your crying. Where the bare minimum was met: food, allowance, shelter—but not affection, not care. At two years old, you learned the silence of being unseen.

No one checked on you when you cried. No one clapped when you topped the class. No one panicked when you scraped your knee or came home from school with heavy eyes. No one showed up to parent-teacher meetings or recognition days. You existed, but you were never truly noticed.

They gave you what you needed to survive—but not what you needed to feel loved. And you never asked for material things. You just wanted someone to sit beside you and say, ‘I’m proud of you.’ Or ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’ You just wanted someone to care.

So, you learned to protect yourself. You built walls out of independence and numbness. You grew into a version of yourself that never asked for help, never expected anyone to stay.

Then came college. A new beginning, but you walked through it the same way you always had: guarded, withdrawn, alone.

Until he appeared.

White-haired. Blue-eyed. A little too loud, a little too kind. The kind of boy who radiated light and warmth in all directions, even when you tried to look away. He sat beside you despite your headphones, despite the signal you gave off that said, ‘Leave me alone.’ He didn’t take the hint—but he wasn’t pushy either. He just… stayed.

Eventually, something shifted.

You became seatmates, groupmates, quiet companions. You ate together in the classroom instead of braving the noise of the cafeteria. He always adjusted to you—not out of obligation, but out of a quiet desire to understand. To be near you.

Then, one day, he confessed.

He liked you. Maybe even love you.

You froze. You had never been in love. You had never even been loved properly. So you hesitated—scared, uncertain, unsure if you were even capable of returning something so pure.

But he was patient. So patient.

You said yes, eventually.

And he gave you more than patience. He gave you a version of love you had never known. He remembered small things you said in passing. He read your silences like they were whole paragraphs. He never asked you to talk, but when you did, he listened like every word mattered.

He saw past your coldness, your detachment, your habits of disappearing when it got too much. And he stayed.

Still… that voice in your head never left.

‘How long until he realizes you’re too much? Too distant? Too broken?’

You wanted to be better for him, but life never gave you space to rest. You were always exhausted. Sometimes you forgot to reply to his messages—not because you didn’t care, but because you barely had energy to exist.

And sometimes you saw his messages. You stared at the screen and felt your chest ache because you wanted to reply—but the weight of everything stopped you.

The guilt hit you in waves.

‘Am I becoming like them? Am I making him feel invisible? Am I hurting the only person who truly stayed?’

You didn’t understand why you were like this. You just knew it was happening, and it terrified you.

Then came summer vacation.

You thought the break would help. But instead, everything crashed.

You were drained. Emotionally numb. Buried under school expectations, parental pressure, and the weight of trying to be okay. You disappeared—not intentionally, but fully. You stopped texting. Stopped updating him. One week passed. Your phone buzzed over and over, but the thought of responding felt too overwhelming.

Then—a knock.

You didn’t move for 20 seconds. Just stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy. Then, slowly, you rose from bed and opened the door.

There he was.

White hair slightly messy. Eyes red and swollen. Shoulders tense like he’d been holding back everything for days.

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. But you stepped aside, letting him in.

The guilt swallowed you whole. But so did the exhaustion. You wanted to apologize, explain—but how could you explain something you didn’t fully understand yourself?

You were lost. Tired of pretending to be okay. Tired of waking up every day carrying burdens. You knew you were pushing him away. And it hurt. Because he didn’t deserve that.

He turned to face you, eyes glistening.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something? Please, enlighten me.” His voice cracked on the last word. You could feel his heart breaking in real time—and it mirrored your own.

“You didn’t do anything wrong…” you whispered. Your voice was small, like it hadn’t been used in days. “It was all me. I don’t know what to do anymore. And I don’t think you deserve someone who makes you doubt yourself because of what I have been going through.”

You still couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking… and I wish you’d let me in. I’m not only here because I’m your boyfriend. I’m also here as your best friend. Someone who you can lean on… Please don’t carry all the burdens inside you. I’m here, love…” He stepped closer, eyes soft but pleading. You could see the way he was holding himself back—careful not to break you more.

“I don’t want to see you like this… Hurt me or push me all you want but I can’t leave you. I will not leave you. Please, love. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I don’t want to change you because I know how hard life is to you, but I just want you to let me in without pushing me away.” And then he wrapped his arms around you.

It wasn’t just a hug—it was a lifeline. He held you like someone anchoring a drifting soul, grounding you to the moment. You didn’t respond at first. But slowly, like thawing ice, your hands lifted to cling to him.

There were no more words. Just two bodies standing still in the soft glow of the room, both heavy and hollow in their own ways.

You didn’t have a sudden epiphany. You didn’t become healed.

But you felt his heartbeat against yours. Steady. Unshaken.

And for now, that was enough.

He understood you even in silence, as if your silence was a language only he had taken the time to learn. With him, you felt seen—not just noticed, but understood in a way that made your existence feel undeniable. The way he looked at you wasn’t with pity or curiosity, but something deeper, something reverent—like you were a puzzle he was willing to spend his whole life studying, not to solve, but to appreciate. In his presence, you no longer felt invisible. You felt real.

And maybe, for the first time in your life… you were ready to let someone stay.

— Author’s note

For my archer girlies out there, this one’s for us. For the ones who’ve always felt a little too much or not enough at all. Who carry quiet battles and still show up anyway. Who love in silence and fear being a burden. You’re not hard to love. You’re just used to surviving. You deserve someone who stays—and more than that, you deserve to let them. So take your time. Breathe. You’re not broken, you’re just healing. Love you all <3

[yapithoughts]

One thing about you and your childhood friend—Satoru Gojo—is that people always mistook you for a couple. Not because there were secret feelings—at least—but because the way you moved together made it easy to assume.

He’s gay. You couldn’t stand men. That dynamic alone should’ve killed any romantic assumptions. You hated when guys stood too close or asked you for directions like they had a right to your time. But Satoru? He was the rare exception. Maybe because he was safely off-limits. Maybe because he never looked at you like someone he had to impress.

He flirted with guys, had flings that never lasted, kissed strangers at clubs like it meant nothing. You avoided emotional closeness like a virus. And yet, the two of you fit. No questions, no confusion. The comfort was absolute. Maybe that’s why the two of you were inseparable—there was never a threat, never any pressure to be anything more than exactly what you were to each other.

Late-night walks. Shopping trips. Sleepovers. No boundaries, no awkwardness. Waking up with his arm wrapped around your waist felt as natural as breathing. Picked outfits for each other, changed clothes in front of each other, never flinched. He wore sleek polos and tailored slacks like he was born for the runway. You wore baggy shirts and jorts.

And then… something shifted.

That early evening, you were getting ready for a party. Satoru had asked you to come along—partly because your mom had been nagging him to drag you out, and partly because he missed you. College made time feel like a luxury. These days, you were lucky to see each other twice a month.

Your mom had barged into your room holding a burgundy dress, elegant and clearly expensive. She begged you to wear it—guilt-tripping you with sore feet and credit card damage. You sighed, gave a half-promise.

Surprisingly, you did more than that. You wore it.

At 7 p.m., Satoru was at your door, dressed in a loose white polo tucked into tailored black slacks, collar unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, looking effortlessly expensive. When you opened the door, his breath hitched—just for a second. The dress clung to you in a way that made his brain lag. It was simple, but it made you look like a stranger he couldn’t look away from.

He blinked, masked the pause with a teasing smirk, and said something snarky like always. But something in him had already tilted.

Together, you looked like a magazine spread. At the party, heads turned. People whispered. Some said you two made a perfect couple. Others outright assumed you already were.

You got drunk. And Satoru stayed beside you, even though he hated the smell of alcohol. He never let you out of his sight, holding your wrist when you swayed too much, catching you when you leaned into him for support. It wasn’t unusual—he always played the bodyguard when you drank.

By midnight, he made the call to take you home. But not your home—his. He didn’t want to risk waking your mom, though she’d probably greet him with open arms and feed him midnight snacks.

You could barely walk straight in the building hallway. He sighed, muttered something under his breath, then scooped you up in a bridal carry like it was the easiest thing in the world. You wrapped your arms around his neck, head against his shoulder. He stiffened. Just for a moment. Then continued walking, pretending the heat on his neck wasn’t from you.

His apartment screamed money without even trying. Sleek, modern, cold—but somehow still cozy. He placed you gently on the bed, wiped your makeup off, made you drink water, slipped off your shoes with a quiet patience. He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to.

After washing up, he lay beside you like always.

And yet, it didn’t feel like always.

Everything was familiar—the bed, the silence, your breathing—but something was off inside him. A weight in his stomach he couldn’t name. He didn’t understand why you looked different tonight. Why he kept replaying the image of you in that dress, laughing, glowing.

Sleep came late and uneasy.

By the time sunlight crept through the curtains, he was already in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. when it was nearly noon, he peeked into the room and saw you still asleep. Makeup gone, hair messy, blanket pulled up to your shoulder.

He turned to grab a shirt and shorts for you. You stirred when he placed them on the bed. Groggy, slow-moving but as soon as you took the clothes, you started peeling the dress off like it meant nothing. He caught a glimpse of bare skin and turned on his heel so fast it was almost comedic.

He’d seen you in your underwear more times than he could count. So why did his chest suddenly feel tight? Why did he feel like he wasn’t supposed to look?

You eventually shuffled out to the kitchen, dressed in his clothes, hair damp from washing your face. You sat on the barstool, still blinking the sleep out of your eyes.

“I look like I came from a one-night stand,” you muttered, laughing to yourself.

He didn’t laugh. His face was turned, jaw a little too tense. His cheeks were warm again. Unreasonably warm.

You offered to do the dishes. Insisted, actually. Said it was the least you could do since he cooked.

When you were done, you returned to the couch and threw yourself next to him like a cat settling into a familiar spot. Your legs landed over his lap. Your arms curled around him. Your head rested on his chest.

Comfortable. So comfortable.

Your voice was soft, sleepy.

“Toru… are you sick?”

You cupped his cheeks, inspecting him with innocent concern. He was unusually quiet today—and even now, with you so close, you could feel the warmth radiating off him like a slow burning ember.

But he couldn’t speak.

Because he didn’t know what was wrong with him.

All he knew was… since last night, something had changed.

And god—you looked too pretty

Too soft.

Too close.

And for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel immune to feelings he thought he’d never have.

Or if the distance between you was ever real to begin with.

[yapithoughts]

“Break up with her.”

You froze. The voice came from behind the office door—firm, cold, and far too close to your worst fear.

You had come to pick Jinwoo up. You were tired after a dungeon run and just wanted to go home, curl into his arms, and let the day melt away. But as your hand reached for the doorknob, you heard the words that made your blood run cold.

“She’s not fit to stand beside you, Sung Jinwoo. She’s not enough.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You stood there, motionless, the voices inside the Korean Hunters Association office cutting through you like a blade. You knew they were talking about you. They never liked you to begin with. You were a strong A-rank hunter, the second most powerful female hunter in Korea—but you weren’t Cha Hae-In. And worse… they knew your secret.

You stepped away, footsteps silent as you retreated.

Later that night, Jinwoo lay behind you, his arm draped over your waist, his warmth pressing against your back. His lips ghosted over your shoulder in lazy, affectionate kisses.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured into your skin. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?”

You sighed, holding his hand where it rested on your stomach.

“It’s not important. Focus on what matters right now.”

“You are what matters to me,” he whispered, burying himself further into the crook of your neck. “If something’s wrong, talk to me.”

You turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. “Have you met Hunter Cha Hae-In?”

He blinked, brushing your hair behind your ear with the gentlest touch.

“I’ve seen her. Once or twice. Why?”

“She’s beautiful. Strong. The directors talk about her a lot.” Your voice was quieter now. “I heard they’re looking for someone to pair her with.”

“I’ve heard the rumors too.”

His expression stiffened. You nodded, then turned your back to him again, pretending to fall asleep. He could feel your distress, but you weren’t ready to say it yet. You weren’t ready to let him go either.

You stared at the wall in silence, wishing time would stop—wishing this moment could stay a little longer before everything shattered.

“Hunter Sung, this is an important discussion. Please try to see reason—”

“I’m done listening.”

Jinwoo stood from the conference table, his voice laced with suppressed fury. His shadow flickered unnaturally beneath his feet.

“This is the third time this week you’ve told me to leave her. What makes you think my answer will change?”

“Because it’s not about love, Hunter Sung. It’s about responsibility. You have power no one else can even fathom. You need someone by your side who matches that. Someone who can create the next generation of protectors.”

Jinwoo’s aura exploded in the room. The lights flickered as shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls. Everyone went silent.

“Don’t speak to me about responsibilities when you’re the ones trying to manipulate my life like it’s a political chess game.”

He turned, grabbing the doorknob.

“I said no. And I mean it.”

That evening, he came home late. You were waiting for him at the door.

He didn’t speak at first. He just pulled you into his arms and kissed you—desperate, almost like he was trying to remind himself that you were still here, still his.

“I’m sorry I’m late… Did you eat anything yet?”

“No. I waited for you.”

His embrace felt like home—safe, familiar, everything you ever wanted. And that made it hurt even more… because while he held on like nothing was changing, you already knew everything was about to end.

The next day, you were called in.

A private meeting. One of the directors. You had a feeling you knew what it was about—but you still went.

You met at a discreet coffee shop, far from headquarters.

“Please, take a seat.”

You sat, heart hammering.

“What I’m about to say is in the best interest of everyone. Please understand this is bigger than you—or even Hunter Sung.”

You said nothing, your silence permission enough.

“Hunter Sung has a duty. He’s more than a person now—he’s a symbol. He needs someone equal to him. Someone who can support the next era of hunters. That person is not you.”

You stared blankly ahead, fists clenched beneath the table.

“You are infertile. You cannot bear a child. That already makes you incompatible. Hunter Cha is not only an S-rank—she’s a woman who can give him an heir. Someone who will inherit his strength. You… cannot.”

It felt like someone had taken a knife to your lungs.

“Break up with him. This week. That’s not a request. It’s an expectation. The safety of the world depends on it.”

And just like that, he stood and left you there—gutted.

‘We need to talk. I need you to come home right now.’ You texted him, heart pounding with the weight of what you were about to say.

You sat on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes locked on the packed suitcase by the door. You had already decided.

Jinwoo arrived, dropping his keys on the counter. He saw the bag. Then he saw your face.

“Baby… what’s wrong? You’re not okay, are you?”

He rushed to you, kneeling in front of the couch, cupping your face.

You didn’t kiss him back.

“I’ve heard everything, Jinwoo.”

His shoulders stiffened. His expression shifted from confusion to dread.

“No. Don’t say it.”

“Please…” you whispered. “Understand that this is for the best.”

“No.” He stood, pacing. “If you’re asking me to break up, I won’t. I love you, Y/N. I’ve fought everything to be with you. I won’t stop now.”

“I can’t give you what they want, Jinwoo.” Your voice cracked. “I can’t give you a future. I can’t give you a child.”

“We’ll adopt.” He was desperate now. “We’ll find a way. It doesn’t matter—”

“It does.” You stood, holding his hands. “They want a legacy. Someone who’ll inherit your strength. That can’t be me.”

“Then let them want! I only want you…” His voice broke, raw and ragged. “I don’t care about legacies. I care about you.”

“But I care about you enough to let you go.”

His grip on your hands tightened like he was trying to keep you from slipping away.

“Please,” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t do this. Don’t choose them over me.”

“It’s not about choosing. It’s about doing what’s right.”

He turned away, trembling, swallowing back tears. “You were the only thing in this world that made me feel human again.”

“And you were the only thing that made me feel loved.” Your voice cracked as you stepped closer.

“The world needs you, Jinwoo. I’m not the one you’re meant to be with.” You kissed his forehead one last time, a trembling, silent goodbye.

“Goodbye, Jinwoo.”

You opened the door, not daring to look back—because if you did, you knew you wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.

“Was my love not enough?” His voice cracked behind you, barely audible. “Wasn’t it enough for you?”

You paused at the threshold.

“It was more than enough. That’s why it hurts.”

And then the door closed.

And he collapsed to his knees.

You didn’t look back as the door clicked shut behind you. Outside, the air was colder than it should’ve been. Maybe because you left everything warm behind. Maybe because you left your heart on the floor next to him.

Inside, Jinwoo remained still, his knees digging into the floor, your scent lingering like a ghost. His fists trembled as he stared at the door, hoping—praying—you’d come back. But the silence answered him louder than any goodbye ever could.

He let out a broken laugh through the tears.

“You said it was for the world,” he whispered to no one. “But you were my world.”

[yapithoughts]

You’ve been the perfect student ever since kindergarten. The school has been blessed to have you—student leader, consistent top achiever, and the school’s pride in academic competitions. Medals, awards—you’ve brought home so many. You’ve always been outstanding.

But then Nagi transferred to your school. Suddenly, everything changed.

It felt like you were perpetually in second place, and no matter what you achieved, there was always this gnawing feeling of inadequacy.

Even when the list came out, showing that you scored higher than him, it didn’t feel like a win. He always did it so effortlessly.

You sat in the front row, dedicated, writing notes and reviewing endlessly. But when you glanced at Nagi in the back, you’d always catch him sleeping at his desk, oblivious to the world. It frustrated you to no end.

During quizzes and exams, he’d still get high marks, but his carefree attitude made it seem unfair. While you sacrificed sleep and poured every ounce of energy into studying, he simply coasted. Yet he remained unbothered, like he wasn’t trying at all.

You were jealous.

Nagi noticed your furrowed brows whenever your eyes met, but he didn’t understand why. You’d never even spoken to each other. To him, you were the model student—perfect, composed, and untouchable. But he was just that guy in the back of the class, minding his own business.

When midterms came, the pressure was unbearable. You spent endless hours reviewing and juggling your responsibilities. The weight of expectations, the relentless need to prove yourself—it consumed you.

Then came the exam day. You answered the test quickly, confident in your preparation. But as you handed in your paper, you noticed Nagi did the same, just minutes after you. You glanced at him in disbelief. Was he really that gifted, or was it luck?

As the class emptied, you stayed behind to pack your things. Nagi lingered too, his feet propped up on a chair, phone in hand, looking as relaxed as ever.

Then it happened—a sudden, warm sensation in your nose.

“Huh?” you muttered as you touched your upper lip. Blood.

Nagi furrowed his brows when he glanced at you. He put down his phone, grabbed tissues from his bag, and rushed to your side.

“Here,” he said softly, handing you the tissues.

You stared at him, startled by his uncharacteristic concern. He didn’t stop there. Gently, he guided you to the clinic, one hand lightly supporting your arm.

At the clinic, the nurse tended to you, cleaning you up and ensuring you were fine. Once everything was settled, you stepped out, adjusting your bag and ready to head home.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw him. Nagi was leaning against the wall just outside the clinic, a lollipop in his mouth. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze lost somewhere on the ceiling, deep in thought.

You tried to walk past him, hoping to avoid an awkward interaction, but after a few steps, he spoke.

“Why do you despise me so much?”

You froze, his question hanging in the air. Slowly, you turned around, meeting his confused gaze.

“I don’t hate you,” you said coldly, though your voice wavered. “I’m… jealous of you.”

His confusion deepened. “Jealous?”

You sighed, the weight of your feelings spilling out. “You’re so good at academics, but you barely try. I work myself to exhaustion, and I still feel like it’s not enough. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat—I have to push myself because of the standards I’ve set. Then you come along, doing the bare minimum, and it makes me feel… small. Like I’m stupid.”

He blinked, stunned into silence.

“I just wanted to feel like I was enough,” you continued, voice trembling. “But when you showed up, it felt like I had to work even harder just to keep up. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Nagi scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. “I… I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” you replied quickly. “This is childish. I shouldn’t even feel this way.”

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Honestly, I kind of disliked you too at first. I thought you were just a spoiled rich girl who had everything handed to her. But I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, exhaling deeply. “You really do deserve the top spot. I don’t even care about ranks—” He paused, muttering to himself. “Why am I even explaining this?”

You gave a small nod, avoiding his gaze. “I see,” you said quietly, the bitterness still lingering in your voice as you turned away.

The rest of the school year didn’t go as you expected. Somehow, you and Nagi became close. He wasn’t as infuriating as you’d thought—laid-back, yes, but also oddly insightful in his own way. The tension between you hadn’t completely disappeared, but it had softened into something more tolerable, almost unspoken.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside him on a bridge, both of your feet dangling over the edge.

“Do you always come here?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at the horizon. “It helps me clear my mind.”

The golden sunlight bathed your face, softening your usually sharp features. For the first time, Nagi saw you relaxed—genuinely at peace.

He watched you, noticing details he’d overlooked before. The way your hair caught the sunlight, the faint curve of your lips when you smiled. It struck him.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “I think you’re amazing. Not because of your grades or your accomplishments. Just… you.” He hesitated, his gaze softening. “But you should take care of yourself more. You push yourself so hard, and you don’t deserve to burn out trying to meet everyone else’s expectations.”

You turned to him, startled by his sincerity. His words lingered in the air, disarming you. For once, the competition didn’t matter. Sitting there with him, bathed in the warmth of the setting sun, you felt a sense of calm settle over you—a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was strange, but for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to prove anything.

And maybe, just maybe, the one-sided rivalry had finally come to an end. It wasn’t about winning or losing anymore, but about understanding. You realized that chasing perfection wasn’t the only way to prove your worth, and perhaps Nagi wasn’t the antagonist you made him out to be. Instead, he was someone who challenged the way you saw yourself—someone who, without meaning to, helped you see things differently.

[yapithoughts]

Rin’s autism as a quiet, enigmatic classmate has you, the class president, worried.

As the class president, your top priority is your classmates’ welfare. Naturally, you’re drawn to Rin—the quiet boy sitting near the window, always by himself. He doesn’t seem interested in making friends, yet you can’t help but notice him. Despite his reserved nature, he plays soccer exceptionally well and has a surprising number of admirers. But that doesn’t change the fact that he prefers to stay in the background.

When your homeroom adviser tells you that Rin has autism, you felt a deeper sense of responsibility for him. You took it upon yourself to sit beside him, making small but consistent efforts to support him. You’d greet him with a smile each morning, check on him when he seemed lost in thought, and ensure he wasn’t left out during group activities. At lunch, you started packing extra food, just in case he forgot to bring any. While your classmates noticed your attentiveness, they couldn’t help but speculate—some even assuming there was something more between you two.

Your bond deepened during an entrepreneurship project, where you and Rin had to innovate a dish together. The two of you worked at your house, running through trial-and-error attempts to perfect your recipe. You were surprised to discover Rin’s talent for cooking. He handled the kitchen with precision, focusing on the dishes with a quiet confidence.

Wanting to contribute, you began chopping vegetables, only to accidentally nick your finger. It wasn’t a deep cut, but blood started to pool quickly. Hoping not to disturb Rin, you tried to hide it. However, Rin noticed immediately. Without a word, he took your hand and guided you to the sink. His touch was firm yet careful as he washed the cut under cold water. Then, digging into his bag, he retrieved a single bandage and knelt slightly to wrap it around your finger with an almost professional gentleness.

“Be more careful next time,” he muttered, his tone cool and detached. “That was my last bandage.”

Unbeknownst to you, there were four more bandages tucked in his bag—he always carried extras just in case you needed them.

For the first time, you noticed something beyond Rin’s quiet demeanor. His actions weren’t just attentive; they were deliberate. The others said he was distant, even cold, but you could see now how differently he treated you.

From Rin’s perspective, he wasn’t sure when it began, but he had started noticing you too—every little thing about you. The way you tilted your head when you didn’t understand something. How you fiddled with your earrings when nervous or tapped your fingers rhythmically against your notebook when deep in thought. The way your eyes sparkled when you aced a test, or how your lips quirked into a small smile whenever someone praised you—modest, yet undeniably pleased. The way you waved enthusiastically at your friends or other students instead of just smiling, worrying a simple smile wouldn’t convey enough warmth. How you absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair when you were lost in your own thoughts. And the way your voice softened when comforting someone, like you instinctively knew how to make people feel safe.

As much as he tried to resist it, Rin realized he had grown fond of you. He didn’t see you as bothersome anymore, though he found it frustrating that your persistence had carved a space in his life. It felt instinctive now—like a reflex—to pay attention to you.

By the third attempt at your dish, you finally succeeded. Your face lit up with pure joy as you grinned cheekily, your eyes crinkling and almost disappearing. You nodded in approval, your head bobbing slightly with excitement. Rin watched you quietly from his spot, his gaze lingering on the way your energy seemed to fill every corner of the room.

For the first time, Rin felt something stir deep within him, something unfamiliar yet undeniable. His chest tightened as he realized it wasn’t just admiration or curiosity—it was more. In that moment, you weren’t just his class president or the persistent girl who wouldn’t leave him alone. You were something far more significant, something that made him feel both uneasy and strangely drawn to you at the same time.

Note: Although Rin’s autism isn’t officially stated, I headcanon or interpret his behavior and personality as signs of it. Thank you for reading!

[yapithoughts]

“I’ll come back for us—for you.”

Those were Sae’s parting words before he left for Spain, words he truly believed in when he said them. But the moment he boarded that plane, reality began to weigh on both of you. You tried to hold onto hope, to believe in the promise he had made, but when days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the silence became unbearable. No messages, no calls—nothing.

He hadn’t meant to disappear. At his training camp in Spain, his phone was confiscated for five grueling months. Five months where he had no way to hear your voice, to tell you he hadn’t forgotten you. But Sae didn’t let the circumstances stop him. Every night, after endless drills and lonely evenings, he sat at his desk and wrote to you. Letter after letter, he bared his soul—apologizing for the silence and sharing the dreams he still held for the two of you.

Little did he know, every one of those letters, never found their way to you.

When Sae finally got his phone back, the first thing he did was to dialed your number, his heart pounding with hope. But the line was dead. The message that your number was no longer in service shattered him. Desperation clawed at his chest as he turned to social media, only to find himself blocked there too. Every door to you was shut, and he didn’t understand why.

It wasn’t until months later, through one of your mutual friends, that he learned the truth. You had changed your number after months of waiting for him. You had felt abandoned, cut off, and alone. The letters he had written, every heartfelt word he had poured out onto paper, had been lost. None of them had ever made it to you.

When Sae finally returned to Japan, he didn’t expect to see you so soon. And yet, there you were, standing amidst a crowd, radiant and full of life. For a fleeting moment, he felt his chest swell with hope, as though fate had given him a second chance.

But then he saw him. The man standing beside you, the one who held your hand as if it was his right, the one who made you laugh in a way that Sae had once dreamed he would.

You were smiling so brightly, but it wasn’t for him. He was no longer the one who made your world light up. And you were no longer the reason for Sae’s smile either. In those years in Spain, he needed you more than anything, but with each passing day, he came to understand that he had lost you, and with that, the spark in his eyes had faded too.

[yapithoughts]

After seeing the leaks of Chapter 289, I can’t help but develop a little headcanon about Kaiser.

Kaiser strikes me as the kind of guy who deliberately crouches down to meet your eye level when he’s teasing you—or even when he’s just having a conversation. It’s not out of kindness, though. Oh no, this is calculated. The way he looms just enough to make you feel small beneath his presence is both unsettling and captivating. His overwhelming aura completely overshadows you, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

This habit of his? It’s most pronounced when you’re acting a little too bratty for his liking. The moment you push a button he doesn’t appreciate, he crouches down, tilts his head, and fixes you with a gaze that practically pins you in place. It’s his subtle way of reminding you who’s really in charge. And let’s be real—you FOLD every single time.

Kaiser lives for the moment your sharp words falter and your confident attitude melts away. When he sees that blush creeping up your face and your defiance crumbling, his lips curve into that signature smirk—the one that screams confidence and pure charisma. Then, with a low chuckle, he delivers his line with maddening composure:

“What? Where’s that attitude from earlier?”

“Hmm… Always know your place, yeah?”

The way he says it, dripping with smug satisfaction, is enough to send your heart racing. He knows he’s hot. He knows the effect he has on you, and he revels in it. That unwavering confidence is borderline infuriating—and yet, it’s irresistible.

As if that weren’t enough, he leans in just a fraction closer. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a moment too long, like he’s weighing his options. The intensity of his stare burns through you, leaving your thoughts scrambled and your cheeks flushed. You can barely breathe as he devours your composure, his ego inflating with every second you fall apart under his gaze.

And then, just when you think he might close the distance, when your heart feels like it’s going to burst—he straightens up. Without a word, without breaking stride, he walks away as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just turn your entire world upside down.

That’s Kaiser. Always in control. Always leaving you flustered and craving for more.

[yapithoughts]

Part 1 || Part 2

“I’ll be 87, you’ll be 89 / I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine.”

Blue Lock

Michael Kaiser x Reader

Angst to Fluff

Note: All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional and not based on real people or events. Please be advised that this story includes themes of violence, abuse, strong language, and spoilers for the manga. Reader discretion is advised.

After years of waiting and searching for him every single day—in the park, the bakery, near his house, and around the neighborhood—I found nothing. Not a single hint or clue about where he might be. It felt like he vanished into thin air, disappearing like a bubble without leaving even the faintest trace.

I never got the chance to know if he was okay, if he was mad at me, or if I had done something wrong. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights wondering about him, especially knowing how his dad used to beat him. The thought of it made me sick with worry. I regret every single moment I didn’t ask, “How are you?” or “Are you okay?” He carried so much on his shoulders, and I didn’t do enough to lighten his burden.

It’s been eight years since we first met and four years since I last saw him. He’s 18 now, and I’m 16. I’ve tried to move forward, focusing on my studies and preparing for college. My dream has always been to study in Berlin, the capital, and I’ve worked tirelessly toward it. I told myself that if I couldn’t see him again, the least I could do was honor my dreams. Still, a part of me clung to the hope that I’d find him someday. I couldn’t forget him, not even for a moment.

One evening, I turned on the TV to take a break. By chance, the channel was airing a live soccer match. The team playing was Bastard München, one of the most renowned teams in the league. The energy of the crowd was electrifying, their cheers reverberating through the stadium. But as I watched, my attention was drawn to one player on the field.

A tall young man stood out among the others—his presence magnetic. He had blonde hair styled into a mullet with striking blue streaks at the ends, piercing blue eyes, and blue rose tattoos that climbed his neck, spiraling into thorny stems down his left arm, ending in a crown with a keyhole on his hand. He had a sharp look about him, accentuated by eyeliner, which gave him an air of confidence that seemed almost untouchable.

The entire game revolved around him. His teammates passed the ball to him like loyal subjects serving their emperor. He moved with precision and authority, as if the field was his kingdom. Then, as he approached the goal, the crowd’s cheers reached a crescendo. With a swift, powerful kick, he sent the ball flying.

“GOAL! And Kaiser uses his signature move, the ‘Kaiser Impact!’ What a phenomenal strike!” the commentator exclaimed, his voice filled with awe.

The game ended with Bastard München winning 4-2. My heart raced as I tried to process what I’d just seen. There was something achingly familiar about him. Compelled by curiosity, I searched for him online.

“Michael Kaiser…”

The name confirmed it. The articles, the photos—it was him. Mihya. The boy I had been searching for all these years. My Mihya.

As I read more, my heart swelled with pride. He had become everything he ever dreamed of. He was living his life to the fullest, chasing his passion and thriving. But a lingering question haunted me: Why had he left without saying goodbye?

It’s been twelve years since we first met and eight years since I last saw him. He’s 22 now, and I’m 20. Over the years, I kept up with his games, watching him from afar. But as much as I admired him, he felt more distant than ever. He was a global star now, with fans across the world, shipped with models and actresses, and surrounded by a life I could never touch.

In Berlin, I worked hard to make a life for myself. I loved it there—the opportunities, the people—but something always felt missing. A part of me, a piece of my heart, remained elsewhere, always longing.

When the school year ended, I returned to my hometown. My family greeted me with warmth, celebrating the end of the school year. It was wonderful to be home, but the ache in my chest persisted.

That night, unable to sleep, I wandered out of the house. My feet carried me to the park where so many of my childhood memories were made. Sitting on the swing, I let the memories flood back.

“it’s been eight years, huh?” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible against the silence of the night. The words hung in the air, heavy with longing and regret. The rain began to fall, soft at first, then steadily growing heavier, each droplet a whisper from the past. I didn’t move. I let the rain soak me, its coldness seeping into my skin, grounding me in the present even as my mind drifted to the past.

The wind carried my words into the darkness, as if taking them to wherever he was. And as I sat there, the rain falling harder, I let the memories and the longing consume me. After all these years, I had hoped for closure—but deep down, I knew that a part of me would always wait for him, even in the pouring rain.

But then, the rain stopped—not entirely, but above me, it was dry. Confused, I looked up to see an umbrella shielding me from the downpour.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson, Sicky head?”

That voice. That nickname. My heart stopped.

When we were kids, I used to get sick often—always catching colds because I played in the rain or forgot to dry my hair. He used to scold me, teasingly calling me “Sicky head”.

Slowly, I turned around. My breath caught in my throat.

“Mihya…”

There he stood, Michael Kaiser, in the flesh.

“What? Are we just going to stare at each other all night?” he teased, his smirk so familiar it brought tears to my eyes.

Before I could stop myself, I leapt from the swing and threw my arms around him, the umbrella falling to the ground. But then I remembered—he hated being touched. I quickly pulled away, stammering an apology.

To my surprise, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me close again.

“Not with you,” he murmured. “That doesn’t apply to you.”

“Do you… hate me or got tired of me?” I asked, my voice trembling as I looked away, tears silently streaming down my face. Thankfully, the rain masked them—or so I hoped.

“Stop crying,” he said softly, stepping closer and cupping my cheeks with his hands. His thumbs brushed against my wet skin, and his touch was both gentle and grounding. “And no, I would never hate you.” His voice was firm, filled with conviction.

“Then why…” I hesitated, my voice breaking. “Why did you leave me behind?”

He sighed deeply, his hands still cradling my face, as if afraid I’d disappear if he let go. “I would never leave you willingly. It’s just… things got complicated.” He looked down for a moment, then met my gaze again, his expression heavy with regret.

“I was accused of stealing in a jewelry store, and before I knew it, I got arrested.” he said, his voice carrying a mix of anger and frustration at the memory. “But when I was at the jail, someone offered me a way out—he said I had potential in playing soccer..”

He paused, his eyes searching mine for understanding. “He told me he’d heard about me fight back—against the police, against my father—all with just a soccer ball. So, I took the chance. I didn’t have a choice, but it meant leaving everything behind… including you.”

I felt a lump in my throat, the weight of his words sinking in. “All this time,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “I thought you left me behind.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said firmly, his voice almost cracking. “Mihya would never do that, right?” He looked at me with a soft smile, trying to ease the heaviness in the air.

There was a comforting silence between us, the kind that didn’t need words. I looked into his eyes again, and for the first time in years, I felt the warmth and familiarity I thought I’d lost. His gaze was steady, full of reassurance and an unspoken promise.

As I studied his face, I realized how much he had changed. His features had become more mature, his jawline sharper, and the boyish softness was gone. His mullet, now longer with blue streaked ends, framed his face perfectly. Despite the changes, he was still Mihya—my Mihya.

“You’ve grown,” I said softly, unable to hide the awe in my voice. “But you’re still the same to me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly as the rain continued to fall around us. “And you’re still the same too, always overthinking,” he teased, his voice laced with warmth.

Silence filled the air. It was comforting.

"I told you, you're the best," I said, breaking the silence. My voice firm but filled with affection as I looked into his eyes.

He gave a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. "You've always believed in me, haven't you?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a note of wonder. “You should’ve come to one of my matches,” he continued, his tone turning teasing. “I would have definitely seen you there.”

“How did you even know I wasn’t there?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Because I always look for you,” he said, his voice softening but still carrying a playful edge. “Through every game, every goal, every crowd screaming my name—you were always the one I was looking and playing for. No matter how far I went, I always thought of you.”

I felt my cheeks heat up as I looked away. “You’re such an asshat,” I muttered, my voice trembling slightly. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want me to see you anymore. That’s why.”

His teasing demeanor faltered, and he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” He looked down for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I actually come to this park twice a month, hoping I’d see you. I even went to your house, but they told me you weren’t there anymore.”

“Ah… yeah,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my hoodie. “Well, my mom divorced my dad, and my grandma wanted us to live with her. We’re still in the neighborhood, though.”

His expression softened further as he nodded, taking in the details.

We fell into a natural rhythm, talking and catching up like no time had passed. We laughed over old memories, shared stories of the years apart, and danced together under the rain, letting the drops fall around us. It felt like we were in our own world—just us, the rain, and the echoes of our childhood.

“I missed this,” he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. He reached up, his hand brushing my cheek with a tenderness that made my heart ache. “I missed you.”

I smiled, my own hand hesitantly reaching up to rest against his. “I missed you too. Welcome back… Mihya.”

Mihya, my childhood best friend, the boy who had once been my entire world, was now the man who still held my heart in his hands. And as I looked into his eyes, filled with so much emotion, I knew I was still the girl who believed in him. The girl who never stopped cheering for him, even when the distance felt insurmountable.

Without a word, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. The warmth of the gesture contrasted with the cold rain, and my cheeks flushed as he pulled away. His gaze dropped to my lips, and I saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

“Can I?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the rain.

I nodded, unable to find my voice.

His hand on my cheek slid down to my neck, pulling me closer as his other arm encircled my waist. The world around us blurred, the rain continuing to fall as he closed the distance between us. His lips met mine, soft and tentative at first, then deeper, as if he was pouring all the years of longing into that single kiss.

It felt like time stopped, the rain a mere backdrop to the emotions surging between us. Every doubt, every question, and every unspoken word seemed to dissolve in that moment.

I didn’t even care if I’d wake up tomorrow with a fever or a cold. In that moment, nothing else mattered—the rain, the chill, or the consequences. All I could think about was the warmth of the memories flooding back and the joy of being here, now, with him.

The years had changed us, shaped us, and pulled us apart. But standing there, I realized that some bonds could never break. We were more than childhood friends. We were two halves of the same story, destined to find each other again, no matter how much time had passed.

I could feel it deep in my soul—our love, our bond, would never fade. It would grow with us. We would grow old together, like the stars in the sky, shining brighter with each passing year. And no matter what, I would always be his number one fan, cheering him on through every triumph, every challenge, every goal. And he would always be the one who held my heart, the one who truly knew me. The one I’d loved since we were kids. The one I’d continue to love for the rest of my life.

— Taglist!

@8x9d

— Author’s note!

Hi, everyone! I know this part is longer, but I hope it kept you hooked till the end. Thank you so much for the amazing support on the first part of this story—it truly motivates me to keep writing! I’ll do my best to stay active and bring more stories your way. Every reblog, like, and comment means so much to me and helps share this story with others who might enjoy it. I’d love to hear your thoughts, feedback, or anything that stood out to you. Thank you so much for taking the time to engage. <3

[yapithoughts]

Part 1

“I’ll be 87, you’ll be 89 / I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine.”

Blue Lock

Michael Kaiser x Reader

Fluff & Angst

Note: All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional and not based on real people or events. Please be advised that this story includes themes of violence, abuse, and spoilers for the manga. Reader discretion is advised.

The swing creaked softly under my weight as I held out the bread to the boy sitting beside me. He hesitated, his ocean-blue eyes glimmering with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. He looked fragile, like glass on the verge of breaking, but there was something fierce in his gaze, a defiance that refused to shatter.

“Don’t worry!” I urged, grinning. “It’s not poisoned. It’s from the bakery just over there.”

He stared at the bread for a moment longer before carefully taking it from my hands. His fingers were thin and trembling, his knuckles scratched and bruised. My heart ached at the sight, but I tried not to show it.

“Thank you…” His voice was soft, almost a whisper. Then, to my surprise, he tore the bread in half, handing the larger piece back to me.

“Oh! Thanks!” I beamed, taking it. “I didn’t bring this for me, but I’ll eat with you!”

We sat together in silence, swinging slowly and munching on our bread. The park was quiet except for the chirping of birds and the distant laughter of children. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, studying his worn clothes and messy blonde hair that glinted like sunlight.

“You know,” I began, breaking the silence, “I see you here all the time. I wanted to be your friend. You look so cool playing soccer.”

His eyes flicked toward me, and for a second, I thought I saw the faintest hint of a smile. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Do you want to be a soccer player someday?” I asked excitedly. “It suits you! You look so happy when you play.”

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted, his gaze falling to the ground. His hands clutched the swing’s chains tightly, his knuckles white.

“Do you feel a connection with your soccer ball?” I asked. “My mom always says that if your heart feels something strongly, you should follow it.”

He was quiet, his sadness evident in the way his shoulders slumped. I bit my lip, trying to think of how to lift his spirits.

“Well, I think you should go for it,” I said earnestly, leaning forward to catch his gaze. “Starting now, I’m your first fan. I’ll be your number one fan when you play soccer. I just know you’ll do well.”

He glanced at me, his expression softening.

The streetlights flickered on, and I realized it was getting late.

“Oh, I need to go home!” I jumped off the swing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He nodded silently.

“Wait! What’s your name?”

“…Michael.”

“Michael? Hmm… Mihya! I’m calling you Mihya from now on!” I waved enthusiastically as I ran off, his quiet chuckle following me into the night.

Over the years. Mihya and I grew closer with each passing day. Every afternoon, I’d find him waiting at the swings, and we’d spend hours talking—or rather, I’d talk while he listened. He didn’t open up much, but I didn’t mind. His presence was enough.

But no matter how much time passed, the bruises never disappeared. Sometimes, there were new ones, and it broke my heart to see them.

One day, I couldn’t keep my worry to myself anymore. “Mihya… are you okay? Your bruises… they don’t seem to get better.”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on his soccer ball. Just as I was about to apologize for asking, he spoke.

“My father,” he said quietly. “He gets angry. And… I’m the one he takes it out on.”

His words felt like a punch to the gut. I’d suspected something was wrong, but hearing it confirmed was almost unbearable.

I reached out, placing my hand over his. “You don’t deserve that,” I said firmly, my voice trembling. “You’re not alone, Mihya. I’m here for you.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand tightened around mine.

For years, we shared everything—bread, secrets, plastic rings, and dreams. Michael began to smile more, though he still rarely spoke. I cherished those moments, holding onto them like treasures. He still had his quiet days, and sometimes I’d catch him staring at the horizon with a faraway look, as if he was dreaming of a world far beyond the park.

But then, one day, he didn’t show up.

I waited by the swings for hours, the bread in my hands growing cold. Maybe he was running late, I thought. Maybe something had come up. But as the days turned into weeks, the hope I clung to began to wither.

He was gone.

At first, I told myself he’d be back. Maybe he was busy. But the more time passed, the more doubts crept in. Had I done something wrong? Had I said something to upset him? The thought twisted in my chest, filling me with guilt.

I kept returning to the park, hoping for a glimpse of him. Every blonde-haired boy I saw made my heart race, only for disappointment to settle in when it wasn’t him. I even went to the bakery, hoping the scent of fresh bread would bring some kind of comfort, but all it did was remind me of how alone I felt.

Eventually, I started to believe the worst—that Michael had simply left me behind. Maybe he’d grown tired of my chatter, or maybe he’d found someone better to be with. The boy who once felt like my entire world had vanished, and I was left wondering if I’d ever meant anything to him at all.

— Author’s note!

Happy new year, everyone! I hope 2025 is off to a great start for all of you! I couldn’t resist diving into some angst for this story 😅 But don’t worry, I promise part 2 will be all about fluff and warm feelings to make up for it. Every reblog, like, and comment means so much to me and helps share this story with others who might enjoy it. I’d love to hear your thoughts, feedback, or anything that stood out to you. Thank you so much for taking the time to engage. <3

[yapithoughts]

WELCOME! ₊˚🖇️ 𐙚⋆💋⊹

― Content Guidlines

This blog is dedicated to sharing SFW content, minors are welcome to interact freely here (I might make a slightly suggestive one, but I’ll keep it subtle.)

— About the Blog

I will write fluff and angst only.

I intend to compose anime fiction, primarily Blue Lock.

My DMs are always open for suggestions, ideas, or requests. Don’t hesitate to share what’s on your mind—I’d love to hear from you!

Kindness and respect are essential here—this blog is a safe, positive environment for all readers.

This blog is open and free for everyone to enjoy. No exclusivity.

— Postings Schedule

I don’t stick to a strict posting schedule, so please don’t expect updates every day. I’ll write and post whenever I have the time or inspiration strikes. Life can get busy, but I promise I’ll do my best to keep the blog active. Thank you for being patient and understanding!

— Others

Let’s be moots and support each other along the way!