#welcome back to the work queue

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Sun: Your mental breakdown is imminent.

Eclipse: I solve it with Pop Tarts and Cheez-Its.

Sun: …

Sun: That doesn’t even make any sense.

Eclipse: It’s a mental breakdown, does it have to make sense?

[oxventurequotes]

happen: if you’re really good at looking after coins, maybe we should give you all of our coins

cressida, grinning: yes!

[theyre-in-love]

Eyes on the Horizon

[tvrningout-a]

what if you send me the soft stuff or you let me write you the soft stuff hmm?? i'm once again offering lil blurbs for your inboxes -- just gimme some muses to choose from ( either mine or yours for the multi's )!

[harrysfolklore]

I DESPERATELY NEED THEM PIASTRI FICS 💳💳💥

FIRST OSCAR FIC 🥺 i know this concept has been done before but i loved how this one turned out and i hope you do too ! lmk your thoughts

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by madisonbeer, oscarpiastri and 2,574,339 others

yourinstagram GUTS has been out for a week !! what’s yalls favorite song? 🤧

view all 15,965 comments

ynfan1 DONT MAKE ME CHOOSE

mtv definitely get him back!

ynfan2 choosing a favorite guts song is like choosing a favorite child

dualipa STUNNING ANGEL 🤩

oscarfan1 can oscar reply to this i want to know his favorite song

↳ oscarfan2 wbk he has this album on repeat

chappelroan lacy oh lacy 😩

oscarpiastri Love is embarrassing or logical

↳ oscarfan1 THERE YOU HAVE IT

↳ oscarfan2 whatever you do don’t picture oscar singing love is embarrassing like a teenage girl

↳ ynfan1 crying bc i bet yn has no idea of who he is

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 287,689 others

oscarpiastri F1 race winner has a nice ring to it 🧡

view all 7,773 comments

oscarfan1 FINALLYYY MY WINNER

landonorris Congrats mate ! Deserve it 👊

↳ oscarfan2 LOMLS

mclaren YES, YES IT DOES! 👏 So good today, Oscar. 🧡

longansargeant So proud of you mate 🙌

oscarfan3 do you think his crush will acknowledge his existence now that he’s a winner?

↳ oscarfan1 wait who’s his crush im out of the loop

↳ oscarfan3 singer and actress yn lol

↳ ynfan1 i love this lore so much

//

liked by oscarpiastri, arianagrande and 2,740,727 others

yourinstagram tickets for the GUTS tour are on sale now who’s cominggggg🥶

view all 16,725 comments

ynfan1 LETS GOOO

chappelroan i can’t wait for thissss💜

ynfan2 tour of the decade already

mtv pop princess is coming

oscarfan1 do you think oscar woke up for the fan pre sale and got into the queue and all

↳ oscarfan2 you BET

oscarpiastri Count me in ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 HEEEEELP

↳ ynfan1 yn liked his comment 😭

↳ oscarfan2 somebody check on oscar please

//

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 288,293 others

oscarpiastri Days off 🌊

view all 7,238 comments

oscarfan1 this is the hottest man alive

mclaren 🙌

oscarfan2 not him posting this right after yn followed him 😭 we know what you’re doing sir

ynfan1 yn likeddd

↳ ynfan2 i love how both fandoms are rooting for them now

landonorris Looks dope 👊

yourinstagram niiiiceeee 😃

↳ ynfan1 HELLO????

↳ oscarfan1 now he’s for real going to pass out

↳ oscarfan2 i bet he’s staring at his phone wondering if this is real or if she was hacked

↳ ynfan2 i know this woman SHES FLIRTING

↳ ynfan3 come on girl give him a chance

four months later

//

liked by ynfan1, oscarfan1 and 17,397 others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri with singer and actress YN in Los Angeles today 👀

view all 3,028 comments

oscarfan1 OMFG

oscarfan2 no way…

ynfan1 YALL, HE GOT IT

oscarfan3 i cannot believe my eyes, oscar has been simping over her on the internet since 2020 and how we have THIS

ynfan2 i really need to know how did this happen

oscarfan4 okay but THEIR SMILES !!!!

ynfan3 finally a guy who’s not a loser and/or an old ass

liked by oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 2,836,473 others

yourinstagram pastry boy clearly didn’t wait until i finished sneezing to take this picture 🤧

view all 17,826 comments

ynfan1 IS SHE TALKING ABOUT OSCAR??

oscarfan1 PASTRY BOY AS IN OSCAR PIASTRI ?

conangray love me a soft launch 🧐

↳ ynfan1 OMFGGGGGG

ynfan2 i can’t believe she’s potentially dating someone her age and with a job FINALLY

oscarfan2 oscar is proof that persistence is key and manifestation works

landonorris Typical pastry fashion

↳ yourinstagram idk how you deal with him all the time

↳ oscarfan1 ALSJAO THIS IS TOO MUCH

↳ oscarfan2 i need her to befriend the entire grid ASAP

oscarpiastri But it made it to your Instagram, so you’re welcome

↳ yourinstagram well thank you you’re very humble

↳ oscarpiastri Anytime 🤍

↳ oscarfan1 I’VE DIED DEAD

↳ ynfan1 stop flirting in front of us HELLO?

after the date

//

liked by oscarpiastri, chappelroan and 2,027,933 others

yourinstagram the GUTS tour takes tokyo today !!! this is going to be one of the most special shows ever 🥺

view all 25,736 comments

ynfan1 AHHHH

ynfan2 huuuhh is she planning something ??

conangray that’s my best friend 😍

oscarfan1 oscar dating a popstar is the best thing ever look at herrr

landonorris Can’t wait 🙌🏻

↳ landofan1 HUHHH?

↳ oscarfan1 is he going ?? WITH OSCAR ??

sabrinacarpenter 💗💗💗

oscarpiastri Please sing deja vu tonight

↳ yourinstagram you got it

↳ oscarfan1 AH I CANT BELIEVE WE MIGHT HAVE OSCAR (AND LANDO??) ATTENDING HER SHOW

//

liked by landonorris, yourinstagram and 538,299 others

oscarpiastri I had the best time ever in Tokyo 🙌🏻

view all 8,626 comments

oscarfan1 BABYYY

oscarfan2 i love him so bad

mclaren 🧡

ynfan1 oh we know why he had the best time

logansargeant Little boy in love

↳ oscarfan1 HWEEELP ME

landonorris Why are you posing like a five year old?

↳ landofan1 HEEEEEELP ME

↳ oscarfan1 i love them bad

↳ yourinstagram I SAID THE SAME THING !!

↳ ynfan1 man i love this

yourinstagram no picture credits ? really ?

↳ ynfan2 AHHH

↳ oscarpiastri 📸 credits to Miss America

↳ oscarfan3 WHY AM I CRYING

liked by oscarpiastri, madisonbeer and 2,197,499 others

yourinstagram night version. 📸 by vroom vroom guy

view all 17,836 comments

ynfan1 OMFG???

oscarfan1 VROOM VROOM GUY?

mtv 🏎️ & 🎤 together was the best thing that happened to us

ynfan2 it’s actually so refreshing to see her dating someone her age who she can have fun with and not some pretentious old ass man who mansplains her

landonorris My children 🫶🏻

↳ landofan1 lando is the biggest shooter for this relationship

oscarfan2 oscar really bagged his biggest crush by being on her comments all the time that’s persistence

alexandrasaintmleux Belleeee 💕

↳ yourinstagram aleeeex i loved hanging out with you let's go out without the boys soon

↳ charlesfan1 LET ME IIIINNN

ynfan3 and when yn writes a song for him

logansargeant I can’t wait to meet you!

↳ yourinstagram pastry is sooo wrong for not introducing us yet

↳ oscarfan1 oscar wdym you haven’t introduced your gf to your best friend

oscarpiastri 😍

↳ oscarfan1 OSCCCC

↳ ynfan1 he’s down bad i get him

//

liked by oscarfan1, ynfan1 and 18,826 others

ynupdates YN and Oscar out and about tonight !

view all 3,022 comments

ynfan1 OH LOOOORD

oscarfan1 I CANTTT

ynfan2 i can’t stress how good it is that she’s dating someone her age enough

oscarfan2 KING OF MANIFESTATION

ynfan3 i mean we already knew they were together but seeing them with all this pda is so cuuuuute

oscarfan3 IM SO JEALOUS

liked by oscarpiastri, troyesivan and 2,965,278 others

yourinstagram 5 new tunes for ya !!!! GUTS (spilled) out friday!!!

view all 25,926 comments

ynfan1 WTFFF I DIDNT SEE THIS COMING

ynfan2 CLAIMING SO AMERICAN

dualipa YEEES ❤️‍🔥

oscarfan1 i’m pretty sure there’s an oscar song there i just KNOW IT

ynfan3 more angsty breakup songs IM READY

landonorris 🙌🙌🙌🙌

oscarfan2 ready for oscar to annoy lando with those on repeat

mclaren We can’t wait to hear all of them 🧡

↳ oscarfan1 MCLAREN INTERN ARE YOU OKAY?

↳ ynfan1 she’s the people’s princess

oscarpiastri I can confirm those songs are amazing

↳ ynfan1 he already heard them IM SO JEALOUS

↳ oscarfan2 spill the tea are any of those about you

//

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 869,044 others

oscarpiastri I laugh at all her jokes and I say she’s so American. So I might just be in lo-lo-lo-love 🧡

view all 9,725 comments

oscarfan1 LAJSIAHAUAB

oscarfan2 I 😭 CANT 😭 BELIEVE 😭 THIS

ynfan1 she’s wearing a friendship bracelet for him MY HEART

charles_leclerc I’m happy for you, son ❤️

↳ charlesfan1 CHARRRR

ynfan2 this is so cute i can’t also when did that sneaky shit go to his race

ynfan3 YN LOVER ERA YN SIMP ERA YN WAG ERA

oscarfan3 long story short: never give up on your celebrity crush

logansargeant ❤️❤️

landonorris Young love, so adorable

ynfan4 THE LYRICS REFERENCE

francisca.cgomes 🥺🥺🥺

↳ ynfan1 she’s already so loved by the wags

yourinstagram love youuuu, pastry 🤧

↳ ynfan2 i love all the nicknames he uses for him

↳ oscarfan1 pastry, vroom vroom boy. she’s just so romantic

[twoshootsofvodka]

Where Roses Bloom, Love Shall Blossom

Nana x Male Reader

length: 18k words

tags: fluff, smut, creampie, little bit of ass-play, L-bomb

A/N: This is my first ever smut or even fanfic, and I know there is a lot of room to improve, but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I may have used a few too many references/memes, so sorry in advance if it throws you off. It’s just kind of my style. I also self-inserted on occasion (like the whole premise of the story that came to me after watching this video), but I hope it’s not too disruptive. If you have any suggestions, critiques, or requests, my DMs and Asks are open. Other than that, happy birthday to Best Girl Nana, and thanks for reading or even sharing!

_______________________________________________________

[It's mid-April]

- We are all done, Sir! - Your makeup artist announces, after putting on the finishing touches.

- Thank you!

From the mirror in front, a more handsome version of you is staring back. He is the new favourite variety show host of the nation, who can make any of his guests laugh to tears, improvise in an instant when his partner slips up, and even outside set, is usually the heart of the party thanks to his easygoing and sensitive nature. He is the perfect media personality. So much so, that even you like to watch him from time to time.

But actually being him? It does get a bit overwhelming. The busy schedules, having to always be on your toes so you don't miss an opportunity to crack a joke, which is even harder, since you are still not completely fluent in Korean, and the constant smiling, even to guests you would rather not have. It's just a bit much. But obviously, you wouldn't change any of it. It’s a dream come true, really, getting to meet all these fantastic people in the industry.

- Is everything all right Sir?

The woman asks worriedly when she sees you lost in thought, fearing she messed something up.

- Of course! I'm just always surprised how you girls always manage to turn me actually handsome. I swear this isn't even a mirror, just a recording of me with filters on. You reply with a warm smile, waving her worries away.

- Hehe! Of course it's not Sir. And I didn't even add much makeup at all. Just a touch up really.

- In any way, you did a fantastic job. Thank you!

- Thank you Sir, and you're welcome.

You stand up, and read some news while you wait for further instructions. You haven't checked any of the previous episodes of this show, because you wanted to make your appearance authentic. You also wanted to figure out your partner during the chat, without narrowing the possibilities down.

The only prep you had to do was choosing a nickname (truly a gamer's worst nightmare), and getting a picture of yourself as a kid. It took mere hours to find a name that could lead your partner into guessing who you are without immediately giving it away, or even the fact that they are talking to a foreigner: The Little Prince.

After a bit, the director finally calls for you. As discussed, you put in the noise-cancelling earphones, queue up some of your latest favourite songs, and take a seat on the left side of the set. The playlist consists mostly of K-pop songs, since it's highly likely that your partner is an idol, and the songs might help you figure out their identity, if their song comes up at a good time.

They tell you to scan the QR code on the table in front of you, which opens the chat room. Your partner enters right after, and you read their name: Judy.

*First clue. They are most likely a girl. In which case, I should take the initiative.*

Having worked with over a hundred idols, you start to wonder whether you've met them already

Hello there!

ㅎㅎ Hello

*Second clue: probably doesn’t know prequel memes.*

Should we drop the honorifics?

Oh, so suddenly? Sure

*Third clue: presumably Korean.*

How are you?

I'm great! You?

Me too

*Maybe I should have prepared some questions at least. Not particularly in the mood to improvise.*

Thankfully you don't have to think much, as you see three little dots pop up, indicating that the person on the other end is typing.

I was wondering What's your favourite season?

You don't even need to think about this. Spring for sure Not even close

OMO Mine too The weather has been so nice lately

YES!!! And the colours And the smells And the bees And the birds I love it so much

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ I see I feel the same way I already think we will be good friends

I hope we will bee Sorry I had to sneak in at least one pun

Don't apologise for being funny!

Heh, thanks How about sunsets?

I love sunsets! Half my gallery is filled with pictures of sunsets

Saaame One day, I saw the sunset forty−four times! You know−− one loves the sunset, when one is so sad...

Oh But How?

Oh, that's just a quote From The Little Prince

Aaaah Your name! Have you read it many times?

Once every year for the past few years I like to see how much more I understand every time I read it With that I know how much I've changed since last year

Hmm Very sentimental Maybe But back to spring and sunsets I have a great place I visit in late spring It's a bit far out from the city, but the flowers and sunsets are more than worth it I can show you one time, if you're down

Sounds great! I also have a place I visit when I'm free I can take you there in return

Nice

*Should I also reveal my birthday? Eh, why the hell not.*

Maybe you can take me there for my birthday It's coming next month

I can But only if you take me to your place on my birthday

Sure When is that?

This month

I see Another spring child No wonder we're on the same wavelength

That's what I was about to say!

The conversation dies off for a bit, but before you have come up with a new topic, the tablet in front of you comes to the rescue.

"Send each other your screenshot of your homepage"

You first check your screen to make sure there isn't anything on it that's scandalous, or would give you away. After not finding anything needing to be removed, you send 'Judy' the picture. Hers arrives shortly after that. At first glance, it's nothing special. Solid black background, neatly ordered folders with english names that all end with a blue heart emoji.

*Maybe she likes blue?*

You have similar folders, all in English too, but there are some extras. Notably meditation and gaming. The background is different though, as it's a picture of your beloved furry companion.

I see you have Netflix downloaded What have you been watching lately?

Ah, yes Mostly American teen movies so I can improve my English Nice

*Yeah, def Korean.*

But I also watch a lot of animations and YouTube

Like what?

Mukbang, and Jangbbijju Also this (네가 빠진 세계 - fall for you)

She sends you the thumbnail of an unfamiliar show

Never seen this Maybe I will watch it later You should! The fantasy genre is interesting And the heroine is really pretty

*Judy is a girl, all right*

Yeah, Nana is really pretty

Right? You know her?

I do But I know every idol I've never met her though Have you?

No, but I'd love to She seems fun

Right, she does

There is short of silence before Judy sends a message

Is that your dog in the background? It's really cute

Yes he is! He's my best friend He's turning 10 this year

Oh, he's getting quite old

Yeah, but he's just as youthful as a puppy

Awww Good to hear And I see you meditate?

Yes My days can get pretty hectic It helps me stay relaxed and focused

Maybe I should try it

You should It’s pretty easy I can teach you the basics if you want

Thanks ^^ Are you an idol? Is that why you do it?

Noooo I can't dance at all And I sound like an untuned violin played by a 4 year old

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ There are some prodigies who can play well at that age

Sure, but not this one

And the gaming folder? You got games on your phone? 👀

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ I have a few to pass the time I mostly game on PC But certainly not as much as I used to

And what do you play?

Some League and Overwatch with friends I also picked up the new Zelda game recently

I love Nintendo games!

Yeah, they rarely miss The company's shit though Super greedy

*That's gonna get cut from the video*

O.O Are they?

Uhh yeah But let's not get into that What music have you been listening to?

She sends you a picture of her Spotify queue

Interesting Much less Korean than I thought And I only know a few of them

Send me yours

One sex *sec!!! I meant sec!

*Good grief...*

Hmmm I don't know any of these

Yeah I thought you wouldn't Not the genre a 'Judy' would listen to

*hmph* I'll let you know, my music taste is very diverse I bet not even the viewers know these songs

I'll take that bet What do I win?

A kiss

HUH?

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Just kidding I'm not sure yet

Okay... How about you buy me some tteokbokki if I win?

Deal And if I win, you'll get me dakbal!

Deal Let's shake on it

Okay But don't look!

Fine, I wont

You get up from your armchair, head to the edge of the wall, and put your hand past the corner. After waiting for a few seconds, you don't feel anything, and moving your hand around a bit doesn’t yield any success either. Then it hits, that your partner is probably Korean and female, so she is likely much shorter than you. Carefully lowering your hand, it finally finds hers. The hand jolts a little at the first contact, but grabs your hand quickly after.

It feels delicate: Small and smooth with fingers you can only describe as elegant. It's not just their shape and how they feel in your comparably larger hands, but also the amount of rings decorating them. On top of that, you bet her manicure matches the lavishness. The handshake barely lasts a second or two, then you get back to your seats.

Okay I know exactly who you are

How?

You're a princess!

Won't lie I feel quite fancy right now

Knew it! Extremely generous of you to let me touch your hand Your Highness

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Do our 'dates' still stand, Princess? Can you set aside time from your schedule to meet a lowly peasant like myself?

Aahhh, well Princesses need to relax too And your proposition seems suitable So yes, we shall go on these 'dates'

You honour me Princess

Okay, okay that's enough But do you really know who I am?

I have some guesses You're def a female idol And I'm pretty sure we haven't met yet Which I can't say about too many people Do you have any guesses about me?

If you didn't lie about not being an idol Then I have a few But I don't know which one of them have met a lot of idols So I'm not sure at all

Well, I never lie Just keep thinking You might not eve know me But that's fine

Whit that last message sent, the screen on the table lights up once again

“Send your childhood picture to your partner”

*Oh, right. The picture. If she knows me, this will help her a lot.*

This should help you a bit

Aaaah, cute Wait Are you a foreigner? Here's mine

Maybe... Awww That's really cute too

The screen instructs you again: “Draw each other in one minute”

*One minute? Not like it matters. I can't draw for shit.*

The 60 seconds go by like a minute in Africa, and your masterpiece is done. Kind of.

Sorry, I tried my best.

It's good! Much better than mine, that's for sure

You look at the picture for a bit, and download it before the connection is severed and you're kicked from the chat room. That signals the end of this section, so now all that’s left is to stand up, and meet this ‘Judy’.

*Okay, who is it?*

You stop the music, take out your earphones, and wait for the director's signal. When it arrives, you slowly, but confidently walk towards your partner's part of the studio. Once past the corner, you dramatically turn a 90 degree angle, and find yourself face to face with an angel. Or maybe it's a fairy? Or a nymph? Whatever she may be, it is not exactly human.

Her flawless fair skin is glistening in the studio's brilliant light, creating a picturesque contrast with her silky dark hair. It's neatly styled in a typical way: behind her ears, running down on her back one side, and on the other, resting on her front, bumping over her modest breasts. Your gaze moves further down, checking out her fuzzy two part dress, coloured in white and blue.

*Yep, blue is her favourite colour.*

The top stops just high enough over her pencil skirt, so that you can make out the tiniest bit of her midriff. You follow along her smooth legs, all the way to her feet, then quickly look back up. Her eyes meet yours, but not before catching a slightly mischievous smile form on her glossy lips.

*I guess she figured out who I was*

This all goes down in a mere second. It does have some benefits to have your brain running at FTL speed. After finishing the survey, you take a theatrical bow.

- Princess Nana.

She cracks up. Her laugh is just as magical as her whole being. You have heard it a handful times before, but never in person.

And boy, does it hit like a baseball bat live. You have had countless groups come to your variety show, but you can only gather up a single other idol with such a delightful laugh (Miss Song Yuqi).

*Man, I could listen to both of them for the rest of my life.*

You straighten back up, and take a step closer, at the same time as Nana. Your assumption of her height during the handshake was correct: she barely reaches up to your chin, but it plays to her advantage; makes her look even more adorable.

Her smile never faded, and now that she is right in front of you, you can see a glint of happiness and recognition in the vast, dark ocean of her eyes.

- It's you!

- It sure is.

- I knew it the moment I saw your baby picture.

- Ah yes, that was a dead giveaway.

- But I thought of you beforehand too.

- Oh, really?

- Yeah! I watched every episode of your show, and you did seem like we had a lot in common. Our conversation proves that.

- Yes, and thank you. - Feeling her boundless energy, and seeing her cute, perky personality, you can't help but smile along with her. - I can't believe this is the first time we meet in person.

- Right? I guess our schedules never aligned. But I'm really happy to meet you!

- As am I. - you cross your hands suddenly - But you lied to me!

- Huh? When?

- You said you've never met Nana.

She scratches the back of her head with an embarrassed chuckle. - Oh, right. Well I could argue that it's not a lie in a literal sense.

- Hmmm. I'll let it slide this time. But I have to warn you, I don't invite liars onto my show.

She gasps in a fake shock, and bows as she apologises. - I promise not to lie anymore! Please invite us to your show!

You laugh at her playfulness. - How could I say no to a princess? I'll make sure to have an episode set aside for you during your next comeback.

- Yay, thank you!

Her cuteness is almost overwhelming. The way she looks at you with those doe eyes, like you are her favourite person on this planet (which in reverse, might be true at this point). Her radiant smile, that emits such precious laughter, the sound of is more wondrous than Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Or the way she seems to cling onto your every word, as if you were Jesus preaching on the Mount of Beatitudes, and how she parrots your thoughts, just coated in that honeyed voice.

The director cuts into the meeting, and asks Nana to give them an interview about your chat. Yours will follow after. When you're both done, they tell you to take a selfie for the show. You oblige, but ask Nana to take it. The height difference doesn't even seem to be a problem. Rather she turns it into an advantage, and snaps a few nice pics. As the shooting comes to an end, you thank each other and the crew for everything, and before Nana could disappear into her room, you call out for her.

- Sorry, I don't intend to hold you up for long, I'm sure you have better things to do.

- Oh no, it's fine. What do you want?

- I just thought we could exchange numbers. Not for my show, that'll be done through our managers, but for our bet. Not sure how serious you were about it, but either way, I wouldn't mind taking you out for dinner. And I still need to take you to that spot on your birthday.

- Absolutely! And I'm completely serious about the bet. I don't just shake hands for nothing. My schedule is going to be hectic in March, but I'm sure I will be able to create some free time.

- Oh, if it's bothersome, we can go later too. Or earlier. Whatever works for you. I can get busy myself, but I always ask the groups to clear their schedules for the day before and after, so we all have some room if anything comes up.

- That's smart. Maybe I'll live with the opportunity.

- You totally should. 

She hands you her phone, and you dial yours. She saves your contact as 'The Little Prince', while you save her as 'Princess Nana'.

- I guess that's all. Again, it was really nice to finally meet you. Hope to see you soon.

- You too! Can't wait for my free chicken feet!

You chuckle, and bow to say goodbye, which she politely returns. Before she could get out of sight, you decide to look behind your back to catch one final peek of this angel. She walks with such grace, but you can still see that playful attitude hidden beneath. Maybe it's the way she sways her hips. Or that cute little butt.

*I wonder if it's more like a soft pillow, or firm and fit from all the workout.*

You slap yourself softly, and turn your head back around.

*Idiot…*

Unbeknownst to you, just after you do this, Nana also looks above her shoulders, searching for you. She barely catches the last moment of your little act, but she knows. She knows, but she is doing the same, so she can't really judge you for it.

Your heart still pounds noticeably faster than usual after you've changed back into your comfy clothes. The little cramp in your stomach is not letting its presence be forgotten either.

*Fuckin’ hell. What am I, fourteen? *

You take a deep breath, drink a cup of water, and focus. Within a few minutes, your body finally listens to the brain, and settles down. You sigh in relief.

- That's better. … - But I need a drink.

You take your stuff, and head outside. On the street, you catch Nana one last time. You wave and smile at each other as her manager helps her get in their car. Yours is already waiting for you on the passenger side, tapping away on his phone, since you almost always drive yourself. You shove your things in the trunk, then hop into the driver seat.

- Took you long enough. - your manager blurts out without looking up.

- Yeah, sorry. Upset stomach.

He acknowledges your excuse with a grunt.

- Back to your place?

- Yeah. But I wanna stop at a convenience store for some alcohol.

- Huh? Was it that bad? You seemed to be having fun. - He finally looks up at you, with the smallest hint of concern on his face.

- Yeah, I may have enjoyed it a little too much.

- Hmm. I see. So that upset stomach?

He doesn't even need to say it, you both know what he means.

- Yerp. Fucking butterflies.

Again, he just scoffs. Your manager is the best you could ask for. Professionally. But as much as he helps you in your work, he helps as little with personal stuff. You know it's better that way. You're not paying him to be your therapist, but you would like him to lend you an ear from time to time.

- Whatever. I'll get drunk tonight, and lose some ranks in League with the boys.

- Hmm. Just don't get too drunk.

You fasten your seatbelt, start up the car, and zoom through the city to your first destination. You grab a few (more than a few) bottles of different flavoured soju, and some instant ramen. The cashier is a young dude, probably a uni student working part-time. He realises who you are, so you chat for a bit. When he finally scans your items, you pay by cash, and leave him a hefty bonus, which he thanks profusely. You get back in the car, and drive to your manager's place to drop him off. From there, it’s only a few-minute drive to home.

_______________________________________________________

You struggle with the lock long enough that you hear your dog making a fuss inside.

- One second bud. I’m an alcoholic.

As soon as you open the door, he starts jumping up and down in excitement.

- Hello, you little rascal! - you greet him in a high pitched voice. - Have you been a good boy? - A rhetorical question to which the answer is (almost) always yes. You scratch behind his ears, and give him a treat, which he gobbles up in the blink of an eye.

- You will never guess who I've met today. - You start as you take off your shoes, and walk towards the kitchen to put the purchased beverages into the fridge. - It was my future wife! - you announce, posing with the exaggerated swagger of a black teen.

Bingley tilts his head in confusion.

- Yeah, I know. I’m cringe. But! I haven't felt like this since high school. And that was a whiiiile ago.

You step into the living room and settle on the sofa. Bingley waits for the signal of invitation before he joins you, and licks your hand to ask for pats which you happily provide.

- Honestly, I don't know how I should go about it. We hit it off well, and she seemed interested too. I mean she agreed to meet two more times. Plus once for my show, but that's different… For the first one, I will take her to our favourite place.

As you mention that, your companion perks up.

- Oh, sorry. I think you're going to have to stay behind. I want it to be just her and me.

Bingley’s head falls on your lap in defeat with a sad whine.

- Don't worry, I will take you there next week.

You take out your phone, and send tonight's plan to your friends. To pass the time, you decide to put on that new (well it was new like 3 months ago) Netflix show you haven't started yet for whatever reason. That, along with some takeout, is engaging enough to keep your mind off of today's events, all the way 'til the alarm rings in reminder for the games.

You gulp down a whole bottle of soju during your first game, and the next ones follow quickly after. The alcohol kicks in right as you're queueing up for the third game of the night. Senses dulled, reflexes slowed, vision blurry. Palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy. Your teammates have been keeping up the pace with various types of spirits, turning every game from here on out into a clown fiesta. Muscle memory at least keeps them somewhat competitive, but no one really cares about winning. It's all about forgetting about the everyday struggles. The shitty bosses, the annoying exes, an unlucky puncture on the way to work, your baby puking on your favourite shirt, burnt food, the seemingly never ending house chores– falling head over heels for a girl you've only talked to for half an hour, of which only a few minutes were in person. Whatever. Everyone has their reasons. Meditating can only do so much. And it's nowhere near as fun as this.

The hours fly by, and it's regrettably time already to end the therapy session. Not all your pals have such flexible schedules as you, so they have to call it before midnight. Barely being able to walk straight, you conclude brushing your teeth and pouring a glass of water for tomorrow morning is more than enough exercise before bed.

Waking up is obviously the biggest disadvantage of these endeavours, but you take a pill with the prepared water, then a cup of coffee, and the headache is soon gone. You don't have the stomach for a proper breakfast, but you still force down a slice of toast. You let Bingley out, and sit on the porch, soaking in the morning sun, listening to the sound of nature, and enjoying the smell of the blooming tulips and violets in your garden. - Spring is fucking awesome…

_______________________________________________________

The next few weeks go by without much happening. The blind chat episode drops on YouTube, and surprisingly, dozens upon dozens of people comment, shipping the two of you. It’s endearing, really; a nice reassurance that what you felt during and after the show, was not exclusively in your head, as others seem to have noticed the connection and matching vibes (hopefully not just the parasocial delulu fans, who name themselves after funny videos, and would go on to write fanfictions about it).

You exchange a few texts with Nana during these days, but she seems busier than expected. It could be because of an upcoming comeback, but they came back with Rollercoaster only a few months ago. So you try not to give it too much meaning, but in the back of your head, a devilish voice insists “she doesn’t like you bro”. Your worries are lifted when they announce ‘Queendom Puzzle’, and all its participants in the following days. Hey! I see you’ll be on Queendom Puzzle, congrats! I’m sure you will crush it! Hiya! Thanks I hope so I have been practicing a lot for this

Yeah, I figured The competition seems strong But I would bet on you making it into the group I’m a bit worried But your confidence in me means a lot😊 An ace like you should have nothing to fear! You’re right 😸 If the crowd sees the effort I have been putting into my craft They will have to vote for me …right?

Of course! You were meant to be on top

*of me, hehe*

Yeah! I’m gonna be a star! That’s the spirit A few seconds go by with Nana seemingly typing out an essay. I wanted to ask you for something

Your pulse quickens, and you sit up straight on your couch. With dilated eyes, and gently shaking fingers, you type back. I’m all ears

I hope it’s not too much of a bother But could you take me to that place you talked about?

Of course! That was always the plan, no?

Yeah but I mean like This weekend

You have to check your schedule to make sure you’re free, not that cancelling every plan and recording would be a tall order, or a big price to pay to spend time with her. Sure, I can make it Great! I just know I won’t have much time until Queendom ends And if I do end up on the team It will take even longer before I can take a break

There is no ‘if’! But I get your point Both days work for me, so you choose I checked the weather, and Saturday will be warmer So we could watch the sunset too if you wanna

*How the fuck would I not?* Sounds perfect

Nice How about we meet up at 4? You could show me around the place And we could have a picnic

Even more perfect I’ll be there Great And thank you 😊

My pleasure

The chat dies off, but it doesn’t bother you. The high of finally meeting Nana lingers for the rest of the night, giving you one of the best sleeps since you moved to Korea.

_______________________________________________________

As the planned outing approaches, you remember something from your first encounter: her birthday is in spring. Even after remembering it was in March, you still decide to get her something. Surfing the internet for half an hour, you find a few decent ideas, but none of them strike you as THE perfect gift.

*Maybe I should read about her, see what she likes.*

As you press search, the first few results are about another celebrity, who shares her stage name: Im Jinah.

You quickly add ‘wooah’ to the query to get the desired outcome. Reading through her wiki, an uneasy feeling slowly creeps up on you.

- Well, this is just weird. I feel like I'm stalking her.

Even though you have done this for every idol who has appeared on your show, it's just not the same. You're not gathering information to create the best possible games and scenarios for entertainment, but to wow her. With that thought, you close the tab, and start to think.

- Okay, let's just not. I can work with what I know already. She likes Nintendo games, the colour blue, animation, and spring. And dakbal! She most likely has a Switch already, and there is no way of knowing what games she has or wants without snooping around. I could take a gamble with the animation, and get her a plushie, a shirt, or something of Doraemon. He's blue too, so that's nice. But that is lacking in the ‘personal’ department. So spring, huh? What can I do with that?

You spend the whole day deciding on what to buy, and instead of one big present, you end up with a few smaller ones. You pick all of them up in the coming days, and get the groceries for the picnic on the day before.

The 'date' is set two days after the recording with Cravity, who made their comeback with Groovy last week. You feared that the upcoming meeting with Nana might get in your head, and ruin the show's quality, but it all worked out perfectly. You spend most of the following day going on a big hike with Bingley, and continuing the Netflix show you started. After that it’s time for bed, as tomorrow's going to be busy. The trek tired you out, yet sleep doesn’t come easily. You lay awake until it actually gets annoying, and opt for a sleeping pill. The drug does its magic, and you wander off to dreamland in no time.

_______________________________________________________

The alarm rings at 7 AM sharp, and you blindly search for the phone to shut it up.

- Mmmm… Just five more minutes…

But as soon as you pull the blanket over your head to block the rising sun, the reason for the alarm registers. Your eyes pop open, and the drowsiness is gone in an instant. After hurriedly finishing the usual morning routine, including your obligations to Bingley, it’s time to go through the checklist for today's tasks.

First on the agenda is preparing the food, 'cause if you mess it up, you will have time to try again. Thankfully, apart from a wasted egg, some spilled milk, and a fierce battle with the sizzling oil, everything goes fine. Second is wrapping the gifts. Usually a bag would do, but not today. Not for Nana. Or rather, Princess Nana. You waste a lot of time and wrapping paper figuring out what's the best way to go about it, but the end result is more than acceptable. Third is packing up - food in the basket, gifts hidden in a bag, and a blanket to sit on. Next up is lunch. You don't have neither the time nor the willingness to cook more right now, so some takeout will have to do. Then it’s time to take out the dog. For a walk, Jimmy... That's number five, check. The last thing to be done is texting Nana the rendezvous point, which you do while you eat the ordered pizza.

Although you'll only have to leave in an hour, you decide to dress up now in today's carefully picked outfit: a floral linen shirt, dark blue shorts, and a few accessories. Nothing too fancy. A few (hundred) TikToks help pass the remaining time, before you pack everything in the trunk of the KIA. After making sure for the third time that everything is in order, you lock the house and get in the car. The V6 engine of the K8 eagerly purrs to life, as if it felt and shared your anticipation for today’s events. You type the destination into the GPS - not that it was needed; you have been there countably infinite times already, and could drive there with a blindfold on. But as they say: better safe than sorry.

Some music and sunshine keeps you company during the fortunately eventless half hour drive. Once you arrive and park in the shade of a huge oak tree, a notification pops up from Nana: “I'll be there in a few!” Not even 5 minutes later, another KIA pulls into the parking lot. The passenger-side door swings open, and the angel you have been waiting for steps out with the same gorgeous smile on her face she last said goodbye with.

You take a few steps closer, and bow. - Hello! I hope it wasn't too hard to find the place.

- Oh, not at all. - She bows, and says hello too, then looks around to admire the greenery, and the sunshine seeping through the leaves, illuminating everything in sight. It arguably does a worse job than her smile, but the Sun does give you that vitamin D, whereas Nana only gives your D vitamin. And your soul with the cute outfit she is sporting: it’s a red, floral patterned sleeveless top tucked into a tight blue skirt with a very similar motif. As the colour scheme would suggest, it’s downright magnetic. You find yourself unable to look away from her, until a light breeze, paired with the rattling of leaves knocks you out of your daze. When you look up and lock eyes with Nana, you notice her cheeks have copied the colour of her shirt. *I may have stared for too long. *

- Almost didn’t notice you there with the camouflage. - you jest, trying to play it off.

Nana giggles, and spins around to give you a full view. In any other circumstance, your eyes would have probably shifted downwards, but her hair steals away your attention, dancing in the air graciously like she does on stage.

- Looks cute, doesn’t it? - I think we all know what he thinks about it. - her manager speaks up from behind. She hands Nana a bag, most likely filled with food for the picnic. Before turning away, she gives you a stern look. - Call me when you are done, Nana, and I’ll come back for you as discussed.

She drives off, leaving the two of you alone in a serene, only slightly awkward silence. You grab your stuff from the car, and lead Nana up the path, towards the field. On the short walk there, she keeps looking around in awe, amazed by the scenery. Gotta give it to her, it looks like it was taken from a painting. Birds singing from the blooming trees, butterflies chasing one-another above the lazily swaying, lush grass, and bees hauling their fat fluffy butts from flower to flower.

- It’s perfect! - she squeals with joy as she bends down to touch the silky grass.

- I knew you would like it.

- I love it!

You walk past Nana, who seems completely mesmerized by the clearing, and a pair of Barn Swallows, as they scurry across the sky, most likely hunting for food. She smiles at them, then catches up with you and helps with the picnic blanket, for which you have already found the perfect spot. It’s on a slightly more elevated piece of ground, from where you can see above the city, and across the green sea. While you unpack, Nana goes on about how glad she is to be out here in the sun, with you, how pretty the place is, and how excited she is for Queendom Puzzle.

- It’s an interesting changeup, isn’t it? - she asks with sparkling eyes.

- For sure! Definitely interesting for the fans, and even more so for the contestants.

- I know! I can’t wait to meet all of them. I haven’t even talked to some of them before.

- Well, you could call them now, because we might have overdone it with the food.

You share a laugh, then take a look at the feast you two whipped up. Even without plating the desserts, it’s still enough for at least one other pair of lovebirds. Your schnitzel sandwiches look ‘rustic’ at best next to Nana’s three different types of home-made kimbaps, but you wanted to bring something that you would bring at home too. 

- The one with the omelette strips has a pinch of honey in it. I thought it would be your style. - she explains with a never fading smile.

You take a slice, and push the whole thing into your mouth. Sure enough, she hit it right on the nail. The basic, but undefeated blend of omelette, avocado and tuna is freshened up by the pickled radish, and brought together by the subtle, yet lingering sweetness of the honey. You let out a satisfied hum, and swallow before praising her.

- You are right on the money with this one. It’s phenomenal!

She giggles triumphantly, and takes a roll too.

- Mmmmh, it’s so good! I never thought about adding honey to a kimbap before. But when I was getting the ingredients, I thought about you, and the bees, and I knew I had to do it.

- It’s for sure the best kimbap I have eaten so far. Good job! - you raise your hand for a high-five, which she happily accepts.

- Thanks! Now, let’s see what you cooked up.

- Well, I know it doesn’t look as fancy as yours, but I promise it tastes great. - you hand her a sandwich, and take one for yourself too. - It’s kind of a timeless classic in my country. Whenever we go to a beach, on a road trip, or a hike, it’s the go-to snack. It’s just fried chicken breast, some veggies, and your choice of sauce in a bun, but that’s the point. It’s simple, but effective. You can never go wrong with these ingredients, and it never disappoints.

She takes a bite, after you downplayed and hyped up the sandwich at the same time. She munches on it for a few seconds, nodding understandingly.

- I see what you mean. It’s just really nice. I could see how it would be sort of a comfort food.

- Right? - you light up from her words of appreciation, and take a bite of home. - I don’t think I could ever get tired of this.

An endearing smile paints Nana’s face, which you don’t even notice at first, too caught up in the nostalgic dish.

Being the first proper one-on-one talk between you two, the conversation starts off with the usual topics: work, hobbies, friends, family, pets, etc. Still, with how engaged and honestly curious she is, it doesn’t feel like the typical, going-through-the-motions, getting-the-mandatory-stuff-out-of-the-way kind of chat. And unsurprisingly, her enthusiasm rubs off on you. You find yourself nodding or laughing along with all her stories, aww-ing at pictures from her childhood or of her family dog, and taking mental notes of every little titbit she shares about her life. It’s all so easy, so natural. Sure, you are still cracking some jokes, but it’s not the same as if you were in front of the cameras. There is no preparation, no script, just chemistry. When you reach into your basket for a second bottle of soda, you grab onto something else by accident. It’s one of Nana’s presents. You have completely forgotten about it, too engaged in the chatter. You take the two small boxes out, and hide them behind your back while your partner is pouring herself a drink.

- Nana?

- Hmm? - she doesn’t look up just yet, preoccupied with choosing the next kimbap to devour.

- I know your birthday was like- two months ago.

- Yeah? - now she lifts her gaze, and notices the jewellery box in your hand, coated in deep blue velvet. - Oh, Y/N! - her voice is laced with surprise and appreciation, which also reflects on her face. - You really didn’t have to.

- Of course I did!

- Now I feel bad, because I didn’t bring you anything. - she pouts, but her frown is immediately turned upside down when she flips the top open. - Wait, is this..?

She holds onto the medallion with one hand, letting the golden chain dangle freely in the warm wind.

- Yeah. A Triforce necklace.

- It’s so pretty! Quick, help me put this on.

Nana turns around and sits closer to you, so you can secure the clasp on the back of her neck. She stays like that, admiring the metallic trinket, until she leans back against you. Your mind freezes for a second, but your body reacts to her, and your arms wrap around her waist.

- Thank you…

Her words jump-start your mind, and you squeeze her tighter.

- Don’t thank me just yet. - you untangle one arm, and reach backwards for another smaller container, neatly wrapped in pink paper. She handles it with care after feeling the weight of it.

- Another one?

She rips off the wrapping, and gasps when she recognises the baby pink coloured box.

- You know, I almost bought this when I last went shopping.

She removes the plastic, then takes out the rose-scented perfume to try it out. She sighs in satisfaction when the smell envelopes the air around you, dulling out the flowers nearby.

- Mmmm~ This bottle won’t last long, I can tell you that much!

Your chuckle is cut short by her lips on your cheeks, a smile, and her nuzzling into your embrace again.

- Thank you Y/N~

- You are very much welcome Nana.

She stays in your arms, letting the minutes pass by, until the dryness in your throat becomes annoying, and you have to let go of her for a drink. She gives you a playful pout before standing up to stretch, as you have been sitting on the ground for quite some time now. That’s when a familiar, raspy voice calls out to you from close by.

- Y/N? I thought you would come here today. And with a girl, to boot! You turn around with a curious look, and stand up to greet the elderly woman and her husband.

- Of course I’m here! Would have been a crime to stay inside in this weather.

- Ain’t that the truth. - the man concurs with a subtle nod, then turns to Nana. - And who is this pretty lass you brought along? Won’t you introduce your girlfriend to us? - Oh, we’re not… - you try to deny in such a hurry, that even catches Nana off guard. You look at her in hopes of reassuring her, and her beaming smile greets you, though you notice there is something sombre about it compared to usual. - We are just… colleagues, kind of. It’s only the second time we’ve met.

The pair looks at each other with a suspicious, knowing look. You can almost hear a whole conversation play out between their gazes. It’s just one of those things that come with years, or in their case, decades of love and partnership.

- I see. - the woman says without much conviction once she looks back at you. - So it’s not a date? We heard you two laughing from a mile away. Her question throws you for a loop, and while you try to figure out how to word it so you don’t possibly hurt Nana more, she answers before you could come up with the proper phrasing.

- No, it is a date. - she states with unshaken confidence, which pleases the couple. - I’m Nana by the way.

They bow with a sincere smile, and introduce themselves as Mr and Mrs Kim.

- I see you weren’t dropped on your head, missy! - the man titters.

You want to look back at Nana, but she is already by your side, hooking her arm into yours and pressing herself closer. At first, it feels a bit strange to call it that, but it only makes sense when you give it another thought. It’s just a word that you have given too much meaning over the lonely years, and it messes with your head.

- I’m sure he wasn’t either. - she jokes, and bumps your side.

- You will soon learn of that, sweetheart. - the lady pipes up. - He is as sweet as honey, but denser than concrete at times.

They all laugh at that, and you join in after letting go of your now seemingly dumb worries.

- All right, young'uns. We will leave you to it. Gotta get back home before my back gives in.

- Just a second, Mr Kim. - you speak up, and excuse yourself from Nana. You take a few pieces of the layered cake, and stack them in a box. - Please take this. I baked it, but it’s not poisonous. I think.

The couple smiles warmly at you, and takes the box.

- See? Sweet as honey. - The madam echoes her own words with a sly wink aimed at your date.

After that, Nana gifts them some kimbap too, which they thank profusely, then go on their way.

- Oh my god, they were so nice! - Nana asserts as she sits back down.

- They are, yes. I meet them every time I’m here. They visit this place almost every day in the warmer seasons.

…

- So it’s a date, huh? 

- Of course. What else would you call an afternoon like this? A one-on-one picnic in one of the most magical places in this city, with someone you like and want to get to know better. Wouldn’t be fair to label it as ‘hanging out’, or something simple like that.

- True…

This time it’s you, who smiles first, but you are not alone for long. Your hand reaches out for hers as you scoot closer on the soft blanket, and she readily accepts the contact, placing her palm on top of yours. It’s not the ‘electric touch that sends a jolt of shiver down your spine’, it’s just what it is: a touch. Warm and slick, but at the end of the day, nothing out of the ordinary. It’s the circumstances, and the owner of the other hand, that’s really special about it. The half-spoken admission of your feelings, a silent promise of more to come, and the most wonderful girl on this planet you share these with. The silence remains even while you eat the muffins, bar Nana’s compliment for the chocolatey sweetness, and the birds singing in the background. You imagine they are watching this romantic scene unfold in front of them, witnessing love blossom on the field they call home. The little angel stays in your arms, although she feels more like a kitty right now as her warm and petite body lays against you soothingly. You can feel her breathing as her chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm, and you realize your pulse is matching hers when you hold her hand tighter.

It’s probably a super corny display from the outside, when the Sun starts to near its resting place, painting the skies in the colour of the flowers in the surrounding field. And if not for a certain girl in your arms, it would have been the prettiest sight of the day. The other thing that the sunset loses in, is the warmth. The temperature drops surprisingly quickly on this cloudless night, and no matter how hot the woman is beside you (in all senses of the word), the chilling winds become a bit too harsh to ignore. So you pack up, dividing the leftovers equally while Nana speaks with her manager on the phone. Hand-in-hand, you walk back the path towards the parking place with Nana lighting the way with her phone. Her manager said she will arrive in 10 minutes, so you sit in the K8 to stay warm until that. Nana sits in the passenger seat, and sees something in the backseat that catches her eye.

- Aww! What a cute flower.

- Oh, right! - you reach back for the pot. - It’s your last gift.

- Another one? For real? - she takes it from you, and admires the flowerless green plant.

- Of course! It’s a Clitoria Ternatea, aka Butterfly Pea. It will bloom with gorgeous little blue flowers in the summer, and as the name suggests, you can even make tea out of it.

She looks at you with a playful squint and a smirk, the somewhat lewd Latin name of the flower not escaping her attention. You laugh it off, and she leans in for a hug to thank you. It lingers for long seconds, until she gets a text from her manager, stating she is almost there. You both sigh. It’s a mixture of sadness and contentment. It was probably the best afternoon either of you have spent in a long time, and now that it’s come to an end…

That’s not even the worst part. It’s the fact that there is no way of knowing when there will be a chance to do this again. But if all goes well for Nana in Queendom Puzzle, it’s most likely months. She places her hand on top of yours, and looks you in the eye.

- Thank you for this day, Y/N. You can’t even fathom how much it all meant to me. And I don’t just mean the gifts, and the picnic. I’m talking about spending time with you, laughing, talking, hugging… And I really want to do it more. To get to know you better, and see where this goes.

- I would love that. - you clutch onto her hand, and give it a small squeeze -  Because I think–  I think this connection is something very special.

- I think so too.

Her grip on your hand tightens, and she moves her body closer. It’s barely noticeable, but you see it. You see it, because you are doing the same. You see her lips parting, her eyes nervously glancing at yours, and it makes your heart pound out of your chest. And though Nana may seem timid from the outside, she pushes forward with zero hesitation. Unrelenting, unwavering. She wants this badly, and so do you. So even when her manager pulls up, you don’t pull away. The headlights of her car shine right at you when your lips meet. And oh, what delicious, soft lips they are. It makes you forget to breathe, and doubles your heart rate, like a dose of a new designer drug that gets you addicted the moment you use it.

Neither of you break the kiss, and when you shift in your seat so your spine doesn’t twist out of its place and move away from her slightly, she chases after you. She even reaches for your shirt with her free hand, so you don’t pull away again until she has had her fill. It doesn’t take too long, because the uninvited audience does start to make Nana somewhat self conscious now. When your lips separate, you let out the air you have been holding in for these past twenty-something seconds. It’s hard to tell whether it’s this, or the power of the kiss that leaves you lightheaded, but one thing is for sure: you have fallen deeper than you thought, and so has Nana. She chuckles when she notices your reddened ears, breaking the tension.

- That was… - you start, but find it hard to say the right words. - Surreal but, um… but nice.

- Yeah. It was.

She gives one last gorgeous smile, and a sorrowed but reassuring goodbye before she leaves you on your own. The kiss replays in your mind repeatedly, and it makes you ache for more: more kisses, but also more than just kisses.

- “Surreal but nice”? What was I thinking?

_______________________________________________________ The following few weeks after the start of Queendom Puzzle are just as sweet as that goodbye kiss. The late night chats with Nana, her random selfies from practice, during meals, or after recording, and occasional video calls. Naturally, you text her after every episode, praising her performance. She responds in kind, applauding your MC skills, and rambling about her experiences with the other participants. The relationship stays this vibrant and strong for a while, and the energy you get from it shows in your variety show, propelling its popularity into new heights. Which, sadly, means more interviews, ads, and what have you. All of that, paired with Nana having to practice more for the final few episodes, meant a little less time spent talking every day. It never dried out at least, but you wished you could actually see each other in person at times, and hoped she felt the same.

Then it finally arrives. It’s the 15th of August, and the airing of the final episode of “Queendom Puzzle”. Nana (obviously) made it into the last 14 with flying colours, raking up MVPs, and a solid spot in the rankings. Still, there was a chance, however slim, that she could falter at the last hurdle. You knew she wasn’t the type to fall into a false sense of safety, but it still felt appropriate to give her the extra motivation she might have needed. So you asked her manager in secret for the place and time of the shooting. Without much reluctance, she hooked you up, but advised caution.

Getting past the security was a bit tricky, but still possible. With an iced americano in one hand, and a box of spicy chicken feet in the other, you make your way through the maze of corridors, full of purpose. Room 8 was your goal, and, as Murphy's law dictates, it was at the very back of the corridor. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that actually does, is to meet Nana, and put a smile on her face. That ever radiant, healing smile. One can never get enough of it. To make sure that the surprise works, you arrive a solid 20 minutes before she does, so it’s time to catch up with the latest gossip. Nana’s manager - now also your wingwoman - texts you as they get past security. Your heart skips a beat, and you jump from the chair you have been sitting on ‘til now. After quickly hiding her presents, you fix your attire, and wait patiently. At least that’s what you hope it looks like, but even a blind man could tell how eager you are. Your quickening pulse, fidgeting fingers, and deep, long breaths are a dead giveaway of your true feelings.

You can hear as Nana nears the room, her voice echoing down the hallway as she practices her lines for the show. The door handle pivots, and the awaited angel finally steps into the room. She stops dead in her tracks the moment she sees you. Her eyes widen, and her jaw hangs agape for a moment, but then… The change in her expression is like a slow motion study for AI training: her slightly open mouth shifts into a wide smile, showing off her pearly whites. Her eyes sparkle with an adoring glint, as if she just saw the cutest thing in the world. And, as usual of her when she gets this excited, she pushes her tongue out slightly, and bites down on it gently.

- Hello, princess. - you greet her with a bow. Nana loses it right then, and rushes up to you with a loud squeal. You plant a little kiss on her cheek, and hug her close. Or at least try to, but she starts to jump up and down giddily, making it hard to properly hold onto her. Before she pulls away, she returns the kiss. Holding hands, you stand there, mere inches separating you, just staring at each other for a few seconds. Your adoration reflects in her brown eyes, glistening like morning dew on the petals of a Chocolate Cosmos. The laughs and shouting of some other contestants from down the hallway kick you both out of your trance.

- Oh, right! - you spin around, and grab the iced americano. - I got you this.

Her eyes light up instantly.

- Oh my god! You are a lifesaver!

She pounces on you like a panther, and snatches the cold beverage before you could say ‘meow’. You watch with an adoring, cheeky smile as she swallows gulp after gulp, a bit of coffee even missing its mark, dripping down on her chin in the big hurry.

- Whew… I needed that. Would you believe that my manager - she points theatrically at the woman - forgot to buy me coffee? Today of all days?! - Uh… That’s on me. - you admit, scratching your head with unease. - I kind of asked her to… Nana crosses her arm, and squints at you suspiciously. She walks up to you with playfully angry stomps, which end up making her look adorable, rather than threatening, like a kid who didn’t get the toy they wanted.

- You don’t mess with a girl’s coffee! - she lashes out, reinforcing her point by tapping your chest with her index finger. Her faux outrage melts away after she sees how taken aback you are. She smiles at you sweetly then, and kisses your embarrassedly flushed cheek. - No need to plan stuff like this so you can swoop in like a saviour. - she stops mid-thought to take another sip. - I already like you, dummy.

You hear a scoff from her manager, and catch her rolling her eyes. You just smirk to yourself, knowing how cheesy it must seem from her POV.

- Sorry Nana! - you turn your back to her, snap up the bag with the dakbal, and offer it to her. A due prise for her winning the bet from the video, but it's also for motivation. - I hope this makes up for it somewhat.

With one eyebrow raised, she nabs the chicken feet tentatively. Or rather the box of chicken feet. Or rather the box of chicken feet inside a box. Or rather the box of chicken feet inside a box of chicken feet. Or rather the box of chicken feet inside a box of chicken feet inside a bag. Regardless, her face lights up for the third time today the moment she takes a whiff of her favourite delicacy. And that’s the point of it all. Not just seeing that contagious smile, but also the knowledge that you made her day just a little better. The way she dashes to you again, screeching joyfully as if she just won the lottery, and hugs you so tight that she squeezes the air out of your lungs, tells you that it may have made it more than just a little better.

- You are already forgiven!

She breaks away in a hurry, scattering to the chair to indulge in her precious dakbal. She hums in satisfaction as the flavours fill her mouth, which elicits an even wider grin from you. From the corner of your eyes you catch as Nana’s manager nods approvingly. Still, she has to be the responsible one when you are together: - Just don’t eat too much. You still have to perform.

- Mhm! - Nana acknowledges half-heartedly, gorging down on one chicken foot after the other. Her manager shakes her head disapprovingly, but can’t hold back a low chuckle.

- Whew… That should give me enough energy for a while. - she wipes her hand and mouth, and thanks you again with a kiss on your cheek. - Gotta go now though. Need to change and get my makeup done. Will you watch from here? - she asks with a hopeful tone.

- Of course! Will be cheering for you from here all the way ‘til the end. And I will keep your manager company too. Whether she likes it or not. - you add with a wink aimed at said lady.

- Could be worse, I guess… - she shoots back with a barely visible smirk.

Nana gives her manager a hug too, and they exchange a few words in secret. 

- Good luck, princess. Not that you need it.

The idol hugs you one last time, grabs her coffee, and waves the two of you goodbye before sauntering out the room.

- She is gonna kill it. - you break the few seconds of silence - You can just tell.

- Yeah. Especially with you here now. - the manager concurs, and nudges you in the side.

You watch the show with her, laughing, cheering, or crying along. After every performance is concluded, they invite the girls back on stage; it’s time to reveal the winners. Taeyeon calls them out from third place to sixth, and Nana is not amongst them. Of course, she was second during the previous vote, so it doesn’t phase you. Too much. Then the anxiety starts to eat at you when Hwiseo takes first place. Still, not too surprising, considering she finished there during the last episode as well.

Then finally, she is announced as the sixth member to join EL7Z UP, placing second overall in the votes. By that time you chew down every single nail on your fingers despite being sure she would make it. The other idols still on stage gather around her, cheering her on while also calming her down. When she takes the mic, it seems like she isn’t even crying anymore, but as soon as she tries to speak, her voice cracks in the cutest way possible, and it’s followed by an even cuter whimper. She gives her speech with a trembling voice, thanking everyone she can think of, and finally joins the other 5 girls on the pedestal. Her rightful place. You sob during it all, chuckling shakily during her most adorable moments. Even Nana’s cool calm and collected manager wipes a tear from her eyes. - Never once doubted her. - you break the melancholically cheerful silence - But damn it feels good to see her win.

- No kidding…

After Yeeun is revealed as the final winner, and EL7Z UP’s line-up is complete, they celebrate on stage for a while. You chat with the manager about the ups and downs of the show, weighing in about the winners, the performances, and how amazing Taeyeon is. After a good half an hour, Nana finally returns, jumping into your arms. She lets out her remaining tension, soaking your shirt with her tears. You caress her back lovingly, whispering sweet little nothings to soothe her. The clock ticks by relentlessly, and Nana has to go again. She lets go of you with a long sigh, and wipes her face with a handkerchief her manager hands her. - I wish I could stay for longer. But I have to change, fix my makeup, talk to the girls– - It’s fine, princess. - you cut in - I will see you later, yeah? - Yes! How about this Friday? - she perks up - I know it’s soon, but I won’t have much free time before our debut. And I want to show you my favourite place before it starts to get cold. - Sure. I will make time for you. Whatever it takes. - you agree without hesitation. - Great! - she plants a quick kiss on your cheek, and skips out of the room.

You breathe out slowly. It’s finally over. Well, kind of. The stress of the survival show may be gone, but now comes the debut. The stakes might not be as high, but Nana will surely give her best, meaning you really won’t see her for the next few months. Again.

Why did I have to fall for an idol? - you ask yourself, but realise it’s no use to dwell on it. Such a fantastic girl is more than worth waiting for. It’s not like you are not busy yourself, and she won’t be active all year long. Still, it feels like the whole industry is against you, hell-bent on preventing this relationship. And it’s not completely false. Her agency would most likely not allow for it: Nana was already their best asset, and now she became even more valuable. Who cares? As long as her manager is chill with it - which she most definitely is now - and you two are careful, it should be fine. Should be. Has to be.

_______________________________________________________

Her sanctuary, as she calls it, is a smaller penthouse on the outskirts of Seoul. It’s a simple, cosy flat that feels perfect to come home to after a long day of work. It has everything you need, nothing less, nothing more. one bedroom with  a queen size bed, a decently equipped kitchen, a bathroom with a freestanding tub, and a cutesy living room. It’s just far away from the centre, so that the noises of the city can be faintly heard from inside, and just barely more from the balcony. And what a balcony it is. It’s the part that really screams ‘Nana’. Full of flowers and greenery, two blue lounge chairs with a glass table between them, and on it, a sight that melts your heart: the butterfly peas you bought her for her birthday. - Did you try making tea out of it? - you ask as you trace your fingers along the vibrant blue petals.

- No, not yet. I have barely been here since Queendom Puzzle started. I did have someone to water the plants though! They even cared for the plastic ones. - she adds with a melodic giggle.

- Wanna try now?

- Sure! Although… I would hate to pluck it when it’s still so beautiful…

Nana admires the plant with a sombre look before you speak up.

- Well, they are about to lose the flowers soon anyways. The days are getting colder and shorter.

She lets out a long sigh before agreeing to it. She takes a handful of pictures before you pluck the flower heads ever so carefully and rinse them. While you boil the water, the 1 girl grabs 2 cups and a jar of honey to prepare them. You wait 5-10 minutes until the hot water brings out the flavours and colours of the petals, then you indulge yourselves in the heart-warming delicacy.

- Mmmmh~ That’s nice. - Nana remarks as she slowly sips on the blue tea.

- Tastes like spring, doesn’t it?

Nana quickly nods in agreement.

- Now watch this. - you grab a wedge of lemon, and squeeze some of its juices into your cup. The liquid changes its deep blue hue to a glamorous purple within seconds as the acidic drops dissolve.

- Wow… That’s gorgeous! But I like mine blue.

- I’m not surprised.

Compared to the first date, this feels even less tense. No preparations, no stakes, no nerves. Nana and you are already more than close friends, so there is no need to win her over. Now it’s really all about enjoying each other’s company and talking about anything and everything. She tells all about her pre-debut activities, her school years, and the shenanigans she got up to as a child. You in turn recount anecdotes from the same times of your life, sprinkled in with the first few months after coming to Korea, and starting your own variety show as a foreigner. The tea is followed by a few bottles of soju, along with some takeout. “Some”. It’s kind of a feast (again), but it all disappears eventually as the conversation goes on and on, delving more into your past adventures, your present passions, and your hopes and dreams for the future. The alcohol does its work in the meanwhile, smoothing out the already relaxed nerves even more, and colouring Nana’s porcelain skin in that Asian flush, giving her an ethereal look as the Sun starts to dip below the horizon. Your hand finds hers, and the two of you sit in a tranquil silence, watching the sky and clouds dance in the colours of the setting star.

- You know… - Nana cuts into the quiet, giving you a warm, pensive look. - One can love the sunset, when one is happy, too.

It takes you a few seconds before it clicks, then your face lights up with a tender smile.

- You remembered?

- Of course! I haven’t found time yet to read it, but I will.

- Because of that one line? - No. Because it’s important to you. Such a simple statement, yet so powerful. If anyone ever wondered how someone can confess their feelings without saying it outright, they would have found it right here. Just as the last rays of sunlight dim, you bring her hand to your lips, and plant a compassionate kiss on the back of her palm. After that, looking into her eyes, you both understand the depth and strength of this connection within a moment’s notice.

- And you are so much more important, princess.

The equally corny and touching response earns you Nana’s signature smile, though it seems different from the usual: more sincere and less practiced. Something that merely a couple people have seen if you had to guess. And as many times before, your heart turns into mush, a sweet concoction of affection and adoration, with a pinch of lust.

While the night claims its domain, coating the skies above in pitch black, you clean up the remains of the feast, and grab two blankets. You stay out stargazing for a long while, searching for constellations, and admiring the waning Moon before you move back inside the apartment. Just as Nana is about to dive into her next story, a long yawn interrupts her. It’s not that late yet, but the day was long. For her the whole summer was long.

- I guess it’s time I head home. You should rest while you can. - No! - she objects instantly, then sinks into the couch with a sheepish smile. - Would you stay for the night? Please? You chuckle faintly, and sit down right next to her.

- If that’s what the princess wants…

She leans her head on your shoulder with a tired giggle. Your hand reaches around her, rubbing her side ever so slowly. The little incubus at the back of your head is screaming to lunge at her, but you kill the voice, knowing it’s not the time. Not yet. Maybe you won’t see her until her promotions end, but if you cross this bridge now, it might be even harder on the both of you, having to go without intimacy for months after a most likely wonderful night together. So you bide your time. It will be worth it in the end, even if holding back at the moment feels awful.

While Nana takes a shower and washes her face, you drive home for your pyjamas and a toothbrush. Once you are back, she is already lying on the bed, mindlessly scrolling on her phone. She flashes you a weak smile, though you barely catch it, as the view of her bare legs distract you. You grit your teeth, and head to the bathroom to change and wash up, cursing your luck. It should have been obvious that she would be wearing shorts to bed in the summer, but your mind was elsewhere when you agreed to sleep over.

You step back into the room, and join Nana under the covers. You decide it’s best not to poke the bear in your boxers, and stay on your side of the bed, but Nana has other plans. “She needs cuddles” - she says. “It helps her sleep better, and she missed it so bad.” - she explains. You can’t say no to her pouting lips and puppy eyes, but what comes after is the true challenge. She nestles into you, not leaving any space between your bodies, not even in the most intimate places. Her round and firm backside assumes its position against your pelvis, pressing into you as if she didn’t know it was one of the most seductive things a girl could do in this situation. You have to call upon every god in the sky, on Olympus, in Asgard, on Mount Meru, and in Takamagahara, to help you out in this seemingly unwinnable battle. Their combined might is indeed enough to suppress your desires, and you relax with her, hugging her close like a plushie. - Good night princess. - your voice is groggy as you place a kiss on the back of her head. - Good night Little Prince. - she is already fading away into sleep, but she holds onto your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours before she drifts off. You follow suit, her soft whimpers lulling you to rest in no time.

_______________________________________________________

One of the drawbacks of living on the top floor, is that the Sun disturbs the idyllic early mornings, totally unasked for. With eyes wide shut, you turn away from the celestial intruder, meeting face to back with an angel. Instead of wings, her chestnut locks spread out on the mattress before you. It obviously wouldn’t be courteous to wake her, but it’s also a crime not to cosy up to a sleeping beauty in a moment like this. So you scoot closer, and ever so cautiously wrap an arm around her petite body. If it wasn’t for the deities who helped you yesterday, you would be in an awkward situation again, but your little buddy decided not to give Nana a rude awakening.

- Hmmm~ I could get used to waking like this. - she mumbles as she finally wakes, and wiggles deeper into your embrace, snuggling up to your warmth like a cat.

- And I could get used to sleeping like this.

She lets out an amused sigh, and starts to run her fingers along your forearm, carefully scraping it with her nails.

- Too bad we can’t stay here all day, huh?

- Yeah… too bad. Maybe if you weren’t such a great performer, you wouldn’t have made it into EL7Z UP, and you wouldn’t have to go to practice and meetings today. - you tease her.

- Maybe… But sorry, I am not throwing that away for you.

- I would rather have you throw me out if I actually asked something so ridiculous of you.

- Good. Now shut up and kiss me! - she demands out of nowhere, and flips around in a flash.

You don’t even have time to protest - as if you wanted to - before her lips press hungrily against yours. Your stale morning breaths take nothing away from the enjoyment and the beauty of the act. The chirps of birds and the early commotion of the waking city fade into the distance, replaced by Nana’s barely audible moans, your heavy breaths, and the smacks of your lips. The make-out is just as sweet as it is urgent, but you refrain from using your tongues for the sake of keeping it PG - you know you wouldn’t be able to hold back if she let you venture further. She is not so restrained though: her fingers run through your hair as she pulls you in deeper, and her soft little breasts squish against your chest, drawing blood to your nether region. But before things could get out of control, your rumbling stomach comes to the rescue. “If only it didn’t need to.” - you curse silently in your head. With flushed cheeks and short, shallow breaths, Nana pulls away.

- Breakfast?

- Breakfast… Do you have eggs and bacon?

- I should, yeah. Want me to make some?

- No thanks. I can do it. Do you want some too?

- Uhmm… Sure! I would like a proper breakfast while I can. But I wanna help!

- You’re the boss, boss.

She steals one last cheeky kiss before jumping out of bed, and chassés out of the room. You follow her (butt) with your eyes, then join her in the kitchen.

- Can you grab the things please? - Nana asks as she turns on the stove, and pours the oil into a large pan.

- Sure thing.

Despite you telling her beforehand that you would do the cooking for both of you, she doesn’t give you a chance. Wanting to be a good host, or so she says. You are not one to complain about a lack of work in the morning, so you at least have to pay her back somehow, right? And what better way than a playful bump of your hips against hers, an affectionate hug from behind, or a few delicate kisses on her neck and shoulders. Nana doesn’t reject her payment, and you can feel her skin heat up under your touch. It could be from the fire of the stove, but her crimson ears let you know it’s your doing. When she is almost done, you set the table, and pour out two glasses of orange juice.

You eat in mostly quiet, watching the Sun climb higher on the cloudless sky, only occasionally speaking up. Exactly like on the first date though, it’s not an awkward silences, it’s just… comfortable. You will have many more times in the not so near future to discuss any hot topic, or whatever’s on your minds, but this serene morning needs none of that. It only needs the two of you, stolen glances, exchanged smiles, and some cold oj to flush down the tasty food.

She offers you coffee after you’re done; an offer you can’t refuse, but state one condition in return: “I’m doing the dishes then.” She brings the soul warming beverage to the sofa, where the two of you cuddle up, watching some dumb morning show for entertainment. Your hand roams along her body dutifully through it all, earning you hums of delight. Sadly, the good times come to an end sooner than expected when Nana gets a call from her manager, informing her about a crucial, and certainly critical conference in the coming hour.

- I’ll let you get ready, then. - you tell her, slightly dejected, but not at all surprised.

- Yeah, thanks… You first do the dishes as promised, then head to the bathroom to dress up while she does the same in her bedroom. After a long kiss, you say your goodbyes.

- I’ll see you… whenever, I guess. - you say with a bitter smile.

- I’ll try to make time for you, but I can’t promise anything. - her eyes cast down on the floor, trying not to face the inevitable.

You grab her chin, and bring her eyes up to meet yours briefly, before you give her one more peck on her lips. For the first time you have known her, they were slanting down, but you pour every bit of reassurance into the kiss, and though she doesn’t exactly smile after you pull away, she at least looks less gloomy.

- You just focus on this group first, okay? Don’t push yourself too hard, because I will wait for you, however long it takes.

She darts at you with a tight hug, not letting go of you until she has committed your scent and feel to memory.

- Thank you. I will do my best for you.

- I don’t doubt that for a second. But do it for yourself.

_______________________________________________________

You knew what you signed up for, but that still doesn’t console you. Working, and meeting up with your friends can’t replace Nana’s absence in your life. She puts most of her energy into preparing for her debut, understandably so, and the two of you barely even chat during her promotions. Meetings are almost completely out of the question, bar a few coffees, and a short walk with your dog here and there. The only positive thing about all of this is watching Nana shine on stage more than ever. Even during the rendezvous, she goes on about how much fun it is with the new members, how talented and kind they are, and how much she loves the songs, dances, and concepts. She can’t hide her fatigue though, tainting the sweet times with a somewhat bitter undertone. They even travelled to Japan two times, once to France, and once to Saudi Arabia, and no matter how much you wanted to follow her, there was no way it was ever feasible or logical.

And of course, once the promotions for their first EP 7+UP ends, they almost immediately announce their next comeback in early 2024, threatening even more packed schedules for her, and even less dates for you. Fortunately or not, that somehow fizzles out, but of course, Nana’s agency jumps on the opportunity, riding her newfound fame, striking while the iron is hot: they announce WOOAH’s single releasing in April. Between all this chaos and dickering, only one thing is for certain: you have to meet. You have both waited enough, sacrificed enough, now it’s time to reap in your rewards.

While her bosses deal with legal stuff between WOOAH an EL7Z UP, and set up for the release of BLUSH, you have a few weeks of freedom, and you use it to the fullest. You drink and dine out, go to karaoke and bowling with friends, and during all this, your love for Nana only grows. Finally being with her again, fully, and this frequently, reminds you why you fell for her in the first place: her carefree but never careless attitude, her kind words, her playful teasing, her precious smile and even more precious laughter, her perfect body in your arms, and those soft lips that taunt you to kiss her every time your gaze lands on them, even if there are people watching.

And naturally, it doesn’t take long to give in to the desires you both have held back for God knows how long. After the first few dates, it’s time you cross this bridge. It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you met up in the afternoon in early February for a BBQ with her friends, but it was always in the cards. Valentine’s day was just around the corner, and you could have waited to make it the most special day of all, but something about today just felt right. Maybe it was how she fed you while you cooked for the group, how she kept looking at you with those curious, adoring eyes, how she snuggled close whenever she could, how she leaned her head on your shoulder, how she clung onto your hand during your walk home, or most likely all of the above.

In any case, it led you here, to this exact moment. You are lying on your bed, and for the first time in many months, it’s not your dog you share it with. Nana is on top of you, her tongue pushing against your lips as you make out, impatiently searching for a way in, which you hastily surrender to her. You have never seen her this zealous, this hungry for you. “I guess she has had enough too.” Sensing her intentions, your hands creep down from her back, and land on her perky ass. It’s time you shed the pretences, and go for what she is offering. What’s yours for the night, and most likely for the foreseeable future, but hopefully forever. You fondle the supple flesh and spread her cheeks apart as much as her jeans allow. She rewards you with moans you can only describe as lewd. Especially for such a gracious girl as her.

Her hands are holding either side of your neck, pulling you impossibly close, deepening the kiss, like she feared you would get away if she let go of you for a second. Her fingers then snake down on your chest, her fingertips tracing teasing circles around your nipple before feeling up your pecs and abs. She moans into the kiss again, but it’s this time more out of appreciation for your fit physique than from the heat that’s building inside her. In the meantime, you reach under her top to rub along the smooth skin of her lower back. The feeling presumably ignites something within her, because she starts to grind against your growing bulge, eliciting a hushed groan from you this time.

It’s a risky limbo of long suppressed lust and never-ending affection. One side of you simply wants to pin her down, and fuck her brains out until she is addicted to you, to your cock, but the more sentimental side yearns for her gentle touches, her sweet kisses, and her soft whimpers of satisfaction, were you to slowly make love to this princess on top of you. The way she quickly reaches for your groin, but stops at the edge of your pants in hesitation, lets you know she is battling with the same demons. And being the sensible man you are, you won’t force her into something she is not hundred percent comfortable with. Nevertheless, you lift your hips, seeking her touch, while also giving her the green light she might have needed.

She doesn’t bite just yet though - except for your lower lips at times. Instead she matches the movement of your hands, and her digits sneak under your shirt to explore your tensing muscles. The arousal is literally palpable, even your clothes start to feel too hot now. As the restrictions start to crumble, Nana takes the first real step: in the blink of an eye she breaks the kiss, sits up, and pulls off her shirt in one move. You barely have a second to admire her athletic upper body, because as soon as she throws her top away, her lips are pressing against yours again. It doesn’t take long for her to reach for your top after that; her fingers hook into the fabric, and you lift from the bed to help her remove it. This time she takes a few seconds to drink in your sight; that lets you enjoy her tantalizing fitness in return.

- Fuck… You are so-

You can’t even finish the sentence, because with a wide grin, she lunges at you, continuing her oral assault where she left off. The sloppy sound of your make-out fills the room, along with heavy breaths and muffled whimpers of arousal. Her fair skin is like velvet under your fingertips as you brush them across her back with unrestrained need. The back of her bra gets in the way of the exploration, but she gives you a quick approval for you to unclasp it. She wiggles out of the pesky piece of fabric, and again, she gives you a mere glimpse of her pert tits before pressing them against your chest to resume with the smooches. Her lips slowly leave yours, and make their way down your jawline, across your neck, and onto your chest. A move you would have rather done to her yourself, but certainly aren’t against to be on the receiving end of. Persistently, she moves further south, only stopping when she reaches your abdomen. She looks up at your flustered face, and with a sly grin, she unbuttons your pants, and unzips your fly. With the lowered resistance, your erection bursts forward, tenting your boxers, the last barrier between you and heaven. Nana tugs at your pants; doesn’t even wait for you to raise your hips, she just yanks it off, but in doing so, your underwear comes off with them. Your cock springs free, and stands at attention proudly, twitching in anticipation. As your princess marvels at your manhood, you get to gawk at her modest, perky breasts. You swear you can see her pink nipples harden, and you give yourself all the credit, since the air in your room is more than warm at this point.

Nana’s mouth hangs agape as she cautiously drops to her knees. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look of her reaching for your pole. Her delicate fingers wrap around your girth tentatively, mapping your pulsing veins. Her clutched palm moves along your shaft in a measured fashion, her eyes locked onto her prize. - Such a nice cock… You look at her curiously, somewhat caught off guard by her statement, but before you could give it much thought, her lips are already hovering your leaking tip. She looks up at you with those innocent cocoa-hued eyes, though you can’t find any trace of modesty in her gaze. It’s filled with lust and hunger as she opens wide to take you inside. You hiss at first, when her hot breath hits your meat, then you let out the air in a shaky breath when she envelopes you in the slick and soppy embrace of her mouth. Your head cocks back for a second, but you regain composure, just so you can look into her eyes. She never breaks eye contact as she dutifully takes more and more of your length into her greedy mouth. She pushes her tongue out with practiced ease, making sure your main vein slides nicely alongside the rougher surface.

Your glans reach her uvula, but she doesn’t gag, merely pauses for a second. Even that’s just for show, because she grins (as much as you dick inside her mouth lets her), and in a heartbeat, she has swallowed you whole, leaving you dazed, reeling, about to break, but above all, impressed and extremely horny. Her eyes start to tear up after a few seconds, and only then she starts to remove your member in a leisurely manner. Her drool covers you from head to balls as she slowly jerks your cock, still looking into your widened eyes, spittle dripping down from her chin.

- Holy shit, Nana.

She flashes you a cheeky, victorious smile. - Not gonna lie, I didn’t think I could take it all. I haven’t been with a guy in quite some time, and none of them were packing like you. Her smirk fades, replaced by a sulking pout as she sees your confused expression. - Did you not like it?

You shake your head.

- No, I did! It felt fucking amazing. It’s just unexpected, is all. I never imagined you to had this side.

- It’s kind of new to me too, to be honest. But I’m sooo horny right now. Have been for a long while, to be honest. You were just so nice today. To me, to my friends, even to the cashier at the shop. You always have been, and you don’t even know what that's doing to me. I have never felt this attraction to anyone, and I… I can’t help it. I want you. So fucking bad.

You reach for her blushing cheeks to caress her, which she welcomes with a satisfied sigh. - I want you too, Nana. But I’m sure you know that.

You lean down, and bring her face to yours for a kiss. It’s sweet and sensual, unlike the ones a few minutes ago. Those few words along with this romantic smooch is all she needed for reassurance. She steps away with a wink, and stares at you as she finally takes her pants off. It’s slow and measured, challenging you to stand up and rip them off, but you are too focused on her slender legs, and the blue-striped panties to move even a muscle. When the jeans finally are off, she kicks them to the side, and with short, calculated steps, she makes her way back to you. With both hands on your shoulders, she pushes you onto your back so she can straddle your lap. The wetness of her core seeps through her underwear as she desperately grinds against your throbbing cock. When you reach for her ass again, you realize it’s not just any pair of panties: it’s a thong. When she sees your surprise, she just grins. - I need you in me right now.

To back up her words, she peels the thin, moist fabric to the side; she can’t be bothered to waste another second to actually take them off. She drags her soaking folds across your spit-coated rod a few times, giving it another layer of her slick juices. You hold your breath to listen to the barely audible wet noises, but her quickening squeals of delight suppress the noise. After a few seconds, when she deems you well lubed enough, she lifts herself, and brings your tip to her entrance. Again, you barely have a second or two to take in the glorious sight before she moves. A sharp inhale, then she sinks down on you. Not slowly. Not carefully. And despite her incredible tightness, she manages to take all of you in a single, reckless motion.

- What the- Jesus! - she screams as you bottom out.

- T-take your time, princess. - you suggest, but it’s for your own good too, because the snugness of her raw pussy is almost unbearable. You don’t even question the foregoing of condoms, you assume she knows best.

She doesn’t even seem to have heard your words, too lost in need, too impatient, after having to wait months for you. Without warning, or any easing into it, she rises up, until only your tip remains inside her silken warmth, then slams down onto you. The sharp slap of your skins echoes through the room, but not for long; this wasn’t a one time trick, or something to show off, just an appetizer. She repeats the motion again and again, harder and faster each time. Her legs can barely handle the brutal pace her body demands, so she fixes her position. With her feet planted firmly on either side of your hips, and her hands propped on your chest for support, she resumes pounding you. It might sound ironic, but there is no arguing about it: she is the one in control, she is the one doing all the work, practically using your pulsing heat as a living dildo to vent her pent up frustrations out with. - Fucking hell… Slow down! - you plead between short, ragged breaths as you hold onto her thighs for dear life, leaving red marks on her flawless skin. - I- I can’t… I need this… I need YOU, damnit! I have waited long enough…

She looks you in the eye, and in it, you can see it all. The glints of almost obsessive adoration fuelled by months of longing and affection. The guilt of hidden desires and the fire of hardly concealed lust. It’s all there, and you can’t believe it’s all for you. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have this angel turn into this insatiable succubus, drunk on your love, riding you into a world of pleasure that may have never been discovered by any other. And within those passion-darkened eyes, you see yourself: a perfect reflection of all her feelings. It’s not like she was the only one who has been fighting back their urges for days on end.

- You understand, right? - she asks, still smashing her ass against your pelvis with unwavering cadence.

- Of course… - you admit between groans. - Let me prove it. You clutch onto her legs with force to keep her in place. She cocks her head in confusion– then you thrust into her. She yelps. Her back arches. Her nails dig into your chest. And the erotic display is fuel to the fire, to your pistoning cock. The pace she has set before? You double it. That causes her voice to grow in volume two-fold too.

- Ah! Y/N! - she cries out, which spurs you on to fuck her even harder.

Now that you have taken the lead, and aren’t just along the ride - though what a ride it was - you have the chance to examine her petite body. You start from the top with her face, or at least want to, but her head is still thrown back, moaning your name between obscenities as pleasure takes over her mind. Her reddened neck looks primed to leave hickeys on, albeit that’s for another time. For an occasion when she doesn’t have to cover it up with makeup from prying eyes. Below that, her small, perky tits bounce with your every stab into her needy cunt. You reach for them with both arms, and grope her soft mounds. She bites her lips from that, but then her jaw slacks open with a guttural howl when you pinch her aroused pink nipples, and roll them between your fingers. The reaction is exactly what you hoped for, so your digits stay on her itty-bitties to continue their work. Your eyes continue their work in the meanwhile. They land on her tummy. Her abs flex constantly as she tries to keep herself steady on top of you. Her skin is patterned by little drops of sweat, some of which give in to gravity and roll down in the crevice of her toned midriff. And the more you fuck her, the more her body glows with sweat. Not too far underneath her cute belly button, the sight of her completely shaved pussy greets you. It’s arguably the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, even in its current state. Or maybe that’s exactly what makes it so enticing. It’s swollen and flushed, her folds already covered in grool, yet your pounding draws even more of the precious nectar out.

*What a shame I couldn’t taste it. Yet. * - you think to yourself.

Nana finally gets a hold of herself, at least enough to look at you. The craving in her eyes is softened with an infatuation that makes you blush. She leans forward with a weak smile, her fingers brush along your cheekbones in a soothing way, raising goosebumps on your arms. The stark contrast between the gentle touch and the obscene slapping of flesh against flesh throws you off, but your hips are moving on their own at this point, unbothered by the sudden show of affection. Not that she intended for you to slow down anyways, just wanted to look at you, adore you, one last time before she comes undone.

Because after holding back for months, this first orgasm comes fast and hits hard, like a bullet train of pleasure. Her eyes are still on yours, but glassy and unfocused now. She bites down on her tongue, trying to hold back a moan, as if she was suddenly self-conscious about making so much noise (little does she know, there aren’t any neighbours around to worry about). You give her taut ass a sharp whack, and that’s enough to get her to scream and arch her back.

- Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes!!!

You don’t just let her savour the orgasm though. No. You fuck her through it. Overwhelming her senses to a degree she can’t contain. You press your thumb onto her clit– a few circles around her pearl is all it takes to turn her into a quivering mess. Her legs give out, and she drops onto your lap, practically impaling herself on your dick, preventing you from pounding her further. Her mouth is open, and you wait for a moan, a curse, a cry, but none of it ever comes. Nana doesn’t even breathe. The only sign of life you get is her walls squeezing around you periodically, clamping down on your rock solid pole.

It’s sort of a miracle you don’t lose it right there. But you hold back because you want more. More of her moans. More of her tight, silky heat. More of her pretty face distorted with pleasure. More of her jiggling breasts. More of her firm ass. More of Nana.

- Holy fuck! - she finally speaks up amidst shallow breaths - That was incredible… I never… I never came so hard in my life.

- Yeah, that felt unreal. - you agree, lacing your fingers through hers. - You are fucking perfect.

- But… But you didn’t finish yet. - she notes, slightly disappointed, but not discouraged, evident by her playful smirk. - Maybe a good look at my butt would help.

With your cock still inside her drenched slit, she spins around, and nestles into your lap. She tries to go fast right away, but her still sensitive pussy forces her to take a moment before she could properly ride you. At first, you grab onto the sheets, just watching as ripples tear through her glistening ass. But you can’t go on like that for long. Not when such perfection is right in front of you, taunting you, begging to be played with. And so you reach out, take both her taut cheeks in your palms, and give them a nice squeeze.

- Mmmh~ I knew you would like it.

- I fuckin’ LOVE it. - you correct her. When she looks back at you over her shoulders, her hair cascades down on her back, sticking to her sweaty skin. Her lust-filled gaze finds yours, stuck to her cute little bottom, and to the puckered hole in its centre. A knowing smile tugs at her lips as she turns forward again, and she rides you even faster. You spread her cheeks to get a better look at her rear entrance; it twitches, daring you to make a move. And you don’t need to be asked twice. After licking your thumb to lube it up, you inch closer and closer to her backdoor, and since Nana doesn’t protest, you press forward. To your surprise, it gives way to you without much resistance, as if she was prepared for it, wishing for it even. And judging by her loud, almost deafening moan, that’s exactly the case.

The added sensation makes her already tight cunt clench your dick even harder. She gasps, shuddering, but she doesn’t stop. She can’t. She wants to push you to your peak and past that. She wants you to cum for her, to show her how much you adore her, how much she turns you on, how good she feels. If only she knew.

- Come on Y/N… Cum for me! - she begs as she rolls her hips in a way only a practiced dancer like she can.

Your reply is a moan. A desperate, covetous wail, that gives away just how close you are to the edge. Teetering on the brink, facing the abyss… An abyss of pure bliss and overflowing emotions. Its pull is irresistible, as is Nana, and you feel the inferno in your abdomen building up, threatening to erupt at any time. And no matter how wet she is, how much she is leaking all over your lap and onto the bed sheets, it only feeds the fire more, along with your own unravelling. You are almost there, and Nana knows it too from the way your length twitches more and more inside her, and from your short, laboured breaths through gritted teeth.

- Please just fill me up already! Now that’s just cheating. One that probably works eleven out of ten times. Your body locks up as you drown in the pleasure. You try to hold her still against your pelvis as you start to unload inside her welcoming little hole, but she slaps your trembling hands away, and rides you even faster.

Did you really think she wouldn’t pay back for the ‘favour’ of you overstimulating her when she came? You should have known better.

She fucks you, until you’re a shaking mess under her– until her second orgasm hits. The way your combined moans fill the room (the whole house, really) along with the wet sounds of your mixing juices, as it sloshes around lewdly with Nana’s every movement, is completely obscene. It’s a beautifully filthy symphony, played by and for the two of you.

A/N: Your dog is in the garden, preoccupied with searching for a treat he buried a week ago, in case you’re wondering.

Nana rolls her hips slowly to ride out the last moments of her orgasm, while also milking your cock for every last drop of cum you have to offer. She purrs in delight as you fill her thirsty womb, then, once you have nothing left to give, she turns around and collapses on top of you– entirely spent, and thoroughly satisfied. Her hot breath tickles your neck as she lies on your chest, but you barely register it. Your brain is locked onto the receptors in your nether region. Still, with how out of it you are, you manage to command your body to do one thing: hug Nana close.

The two of you stay in that sticky embrace, your chests heaving against the other’s with each shallow breath while your spunk slowly drips out of her used slit. It takes a few minutes before either of you come down from the high, able to speak again.

- You are way too good at that. That had to be my biggest load yet.

- Thanks, handsome~ You are no slouch yourself. - she returns the flattery along with a small kiss, then looks at you. Her eyes sparkle with the afterglow of your ravenous lovemaking, but she has a slightly bashful expression on. - This- This was the first time anyone came inside me. I don’t know what came over me, I was just so turned on, so horny, and I really wanted to know what it felt like, and I wanted it to be you, because I didn’t know when we could do this again… And I don’t want you to think I’m the kind of girl, who just sleeps around for the heck of it, opening her legs for any-

You shut her yapper with a deep, passionate kiss, until she finally relaxes in your arms.

- You have nothing to explain, Nana. Not to me, not to yourself. - your fingers brush through her hair for further reassurance.

She stares back with adoration, then lays her head on your chest with a sigh. The stark contrast between the rough sex and the intimacy of this moment doesn’t elude you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s not like you went all out because there was not even a trace of emotion between you; it’s the exact opposite. You were both so starved for physical affection, so head over heels for the other, that this was the best and only way to release everything that’s been consuming you since your first kiss.

- I hate to be this responsible right now, - you disrupt the blissful peace - but I should take a piss. And I really need to hydrate.

- Sure… You go ahead and do that… I’ll just… wait for you here…

You steal a kiss before she rolls off of you, then you leave the room in your boxers. After you accomplish your mission and let Bingley inside, you return to Nana with two bottles of water.

- Here. You should drink too.

- Oh yeah, thanks.

- Want me to lend you a shirt for the night? - you ask after emptying half the bottle.

- Hmmm, no. I want to fall asleep cuddling like this.

- As you wish, princess.

You discard the soaked blankets for a clean one, take off your boxers, then lie behind Nana with your arms wrapped around her exhausted body. The strong scent of sex lingers in the room, only dampened by the sweetness of Nana’s shampoo. She settles deeper into your calming embrace, her bare skin still warm and damp with exertion, and it feels sooo nice against your body. Like she was always meant to be right there. Right here. With you. The only sound disturbing the tranquil silence is the nestling from her thighs as they absentmindedly rub together at the delicious soreness you left in her. Until you remember something.

- Oh! Just one more thing.

- Mmm? - she groans, barely awake.

- I love you.

- I know. - she leaves the words hanging for a few, very uncomfortable seconds - I love you too.

Her breaths become silent purrs, and her pulse slows to a soothing thrum against your palm on her stomach. She threads her fingers through yours, content, loved, comfy, pleased.

- Good night princess.

- Mmm~

You stay awake for a while, drawing little circles on the back of her hand, replaying the events of today in your head. Especially this last half an hour. Would she have been like this if you went all the way earlier? Who knows? Who cares? Was it worth the wait regardless? Absolutely. Because all that matters is her, lying in your arms, naked, after the best sex of your life. So far! Because with Nana, you know you will have all the fun in the world– in and out of bed. And doubtless, she will prove that in the morning when she wakes up by your side. By her beloved Y/N.

[dwaekkicidal]

cw» fem!reader, kitty hybrid reader x puppy hybrid!channie, mentions of p in v, manhandling, there’s a few more but nothing too crazy/out of the blue

cw» not really proofread, but this is for that one anon who asked for kitty reader a few months ago <3 sorry it took so long

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

pup!channie who was very against his owner adopting another hybrid, let a lone a cat of all species. but it's not like he has much of a say in it- it's supposed to be his new "friend" so he's not alone while his owner is at work all day!

pup!channie who scares you shitless before you two even meet. your new owner warned you and told you all kinds of scary things about the dog you'll be living with from now on

but queue faces of surprise, from all 3 of you, when chan's face burns red and his tail starts wagging aggressively the second he sees you

pup!channie who gets addicted to your scent from day 1. he just loooves the way you smell. that and your endearingly cute demeanor only leads to him quickly growing a little crush on you~

pup!channie who surprises you and your owner when he opens his space to you right off the bat- with little to no aggressiveness coming from the boy.

pup!channie who welcomes you with open arms, even going far enough to allow you to lay (and sleep with him) in his bed. your owner was scared at first but quickly grew to trust chan enough that he didn't bother getting you your own bed- simply allowing you to sleep with chan

pup!channie who stares daggers into every person, human or hybrid, who even glances your way. your pretty head is never worried about anything enough to notice the stares, but chan has eyes of a hawk when it comes to you.

pup!channie who scents you unbeknownst to you. sneakily scenting you and your clothes to the point where it's just a natural smell to you- you don't question where it comes from anymore now that you're conditioned to live in the smell- but the smell follows you everywhere enough to scare other hybrids away

pup!channie who is SO easily jealous and refuses to let anybody near you. your owner has to muzzle HIM when you go to the doctor because the mere thought of strangers being so close to you, maybe even touching you makes him seethe.

^ and this is even worse when your owner brings their friends around. the onslaught of questions like "ohh how did you get that mutt to tolerate your new, pretty kitty" was already enough to piss him off, but when the friends try to touch you, he sees red. he actually loses all sense of rationality and will bite the person if they don't back away within his first growl.

and all of this is innocent at first! until its not.

it loses all innocence when mating season comes around, and you both discover your owner wasn't responsible enough to account for the clash of hormones. they thought about the possibility of you getting pregnant and put you on birth control "just in case", but they didn't take into account that the hormones would still be there in full force.

and that leads to what happened at the beginning of the week. your owner is out on a business trip that just so happens to be 2 weeks long, and channie has begun to feel the first signs of his heat. but it wasn't until he came home from a short grocery outing, and smelt your scent for the first time in hours, that he realized his heat was hitting him.

it wasn't until he was standing the doorway of your shared room, groceries long forgotten on the kitchen floor, that he felt the heat start coursing through his veins.

it wasn't until he had your face shoved into the sheet, balls deep in your cunt, that the emotions started to hit him.

"C-Channie! Slow down, p-please-" He shushes you and thrusts harder, his balls slapping against your clit each time he bottoms out. "Pretty kitty- MY pretty kitty."

"Chan~" Your whines only made him growl and push into you harder. He was using both hands to hold you down, one in your hair and the other on your shoulder, but he trailed the lower of the two down to your ass after some time.

His hand comes down on your ass suddenly, making you yelp out of surprise. The yelp turns into a moan when his hand wraps around the base of your tail and tugs.

"A-Ah!?" He doesn't release it. Instead, he tightens his hold on your tail and continues to lightly tug on it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. Your hand that's not tangled in the sheets goes behind to push his hand away and Chan growls again, releasing your hair to dig his hands into your wrist and hold it above your head in order to get you to stop resisting him.

"You're gonna take it, right baby? Gonna let me fuck you full of my pups?" You attempt to push yourself up with your free hand, only to fall back down when his canines dig into the side of your neck. "Answer my fucking question before I lose my patience, kitty."

"Yes! I'll take it all. Anything for you, Channie…” You could feel the smirk break out against your neck, and it seems like your promise was enough to scratch an itch in his stupid dog brain.

now, days into his heat, you feel your own heat starting up- no doubt thanks to the restless hound that was adamant about rearranging your insides and trying to get you pregnant.

the two of you had barely left the room by the mid point of the next week. your owner had to call in a friend to bring you guys food every night- at first they weren't really aware of what was going on thanks to the vague texts chan sent (in the middle of you riding him, might i add), but boy could his friend smell the sex from the front door.

and channie had absolutely no plan to stop fucking you, even as your owner's friend poked their head in to check on you two for your owner. he simply gave them the nastiest side eye and tightened his grip around your neck, seemingly fucking into you even harder as he held eye contact and growled at the person to leave.

and then once they did leave, he continued fucking you as if the world was ending and the two of your would never see each other again.

“Attagirl, baby. Take this knot and Channie’ll breed your pains away.”

Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @honeyybbuubblleess

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams @velvetmoonlght

@aeri-skzver

[arahdow]

IT WAS A LOVE BITE !

Pairing. Shadow x reader

Content. fem reader. suggestive notes, shadow is unhinged, mentions of his gun (bcs of his work), blood, dub con(?). MDNI.

Word count. 0.7 k

A/N. THIS IS A THIRST POST YALL SJJDJSJS i squeezed the words out of my brain, it wasn’t supposed to turn THIS horny but i caught myself on my steamy spotify playlist and well 😗 enjoy!!

The gun sometimes had too much weight on his hand. Always killing here and there: bad people and, when his luck runs out, good people that got into the crossfire. It didn’t matter how good or bad the day went, he always went back home tired. His back ached and his head throbbed. Holding back a grunt, the man opened the door, holding the gun tightly with his right hand.

“Welcome ba-” His partner greeted, stopping abruptly at the image of him, panting, holding his gun. “Shadow?” 

The man didn’t reply. His head was spinning, he needed something… Someone to land his thoughts on. Throwing the gun at the sofa and kicking the door shut, the black hedgehog walked hastingly to the girl. Quickly grabbing her face with his gloved hands, he kissed her, roughly.

Her hands, which were holding a wet towel, let the cloth fall to the floor as she grabbed the man’s hands on her cheeks. She whined into the kiss, trying to pull apart from him. It’s not that she didn’t like his kisses or affection, but this was too harsh for her. 

His lips were additive, so she had a hard time pulling apart. She tried softly at first, throwing little ‘mhm’s’ at him, soon running out of air. Shadow had his eyes closed, then he pulled apart abruptly. And she thought he’d stop.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pulled her again and kissed her deeply again, moving his mouth against hers, savoring her taste, counting every single one of her fangs with his tongue, his teeth nibbling at her lips.

The girl gave in and reciprocated the kiss. If he wanted crazy, he’d have crazy. Pressing her chest onto him, the girl put her arms around his shoulders, one of her hands threading his quills softly, then tugging at them harshly making the man gasp on her lips. For a moment she was confused, he never acted this way, he always was more of a dominant partner, usually mad when she pulled movements like these, but it seemed that today he was more riled up than she thought.

Pushing at his chest, he easily gave in, letting her push him enough so now he was sitting on the couch, the girl straddling him. She didn’t know if she should ask about his demeanor, before it got too bad. 

“Shad- Mhm… Wait- ah, Sha-” The man grunted at her trying to pull apart. Holding the back of her head, he pulled her in, his lips busying themselves on her. Their breaths mingled as he sat on the couch. He opened his legs a little, the girl’s crotch in direct contact with his. Shadow opened his eyes for a bit, pulling apart as she took it as a queue to catch her breath.

“Chaos, you’re so beautiful.” He whispered as his lips connected onto hers again. The girl, with the strength of a breath, took Shadow’s wrists and tried to pin him down to control a bit of the situation. But it backfired as the red in his eyes lit. With a growl, the man used his strength to, in a second, have her back hitting the couch. His legs in between hers, forcing her to raise them. She felt at his full mercy. Then, she suddenly felt something pointy: his fangs. The way he was kissing her so hard, like he was trying to merge both their bodies made her easy to figure out he was almost trying to eat her whole. His teeth got so close, that it tore the skin on her lips making her yank her head to the side in a painful reaction. 

“What? Shadow- what?!” She asked, pressing a hand to his face pushing him back with enough strength to actually get him off of her. The man complied and sat on his knees as the girl wiped her lip with her thumb, noticing a bit of blood dripping from her skin. “You bit me!”

“It’s a love bite!” He justified himself, his voice hoarse, cheeks red from suddenly breaking the atmosphere.The image of his lover with a bloody lip because of him turned him on somehow. Feeling the needy growl itch at his throat, he coughed a bit to get rid of it.

“That’s not a love bite dumbass!” She groaned, a bit in pain.

“Sorry love, I-” He started speaking, but the girl quickly shushed him, her lips pressing onto him, the metallic flavor invading his tongue. Her body pushing him, now her on top of him. 

“No talking, you’re going to pay for this.”

Shadow’s confused expression soon turned into a smirk, amused. “Yes ma’am”

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Lunar: Abso-bitching-lutely.

Moon: It’s ‘abso-fucking-lutely’, Lunar.

Lunar: Oh I know. but I was talking to Eclipse, the local bitch who bitches all the bitching time.

Sun: Ooookay, you’re over your cursing limit for the day, please hug your plushie, Lunar.

[divinit3a]

oneshot: out of character -> ao3 link reader x mer animatronic!moon 🌊 word count: 3,403

Working at a Fazbear animatronic theme park hadn't really been your dream, but it is your current reality.

At first, you were starry-eyed. Clocking in each day at a place that brings out the magic of imagination. Revamped from its first attempt that mysteriously burnt down after a rigorous police investigation, inexplicably refurbished into a half VR game center, half water-park. You’d bet the money that fuels such an over-the-top offshoot for the franchise pumps in from the Pizzaplex the next city over.

The ambition of the two owners who picked up the business manifested into a massive aquarium at the center, home to mechanized sea life. Animatronics of all shapes and sizes, perfect replicas of their real life counterparts. Plus or minus a more vivid, appealing, toy-selling color palette. 

The multi-level aquarium showcases beautiful spectacles of engineering that allow all creatures of the deep to intermingle without the limitations of reality. You’ve stood in the tunnels that wind throughout the first floor on the slow moving tracks before, looking around with awe and wonder at the flittering sharks and jumping dolphins. A whale would float by now and then, casting a great shadow across the tunnels as everyone hurried to snap a photo.

Ferry rides are offered at an exuberant price to float atop the largest of the decorative tanks, where a stationary mermaid animatronic waves with a pleasant smile. You stopped going to the ferry rides after they replaced the human staff with the admittedly rather creepy, blank-staring bots and their pre-recorded voice lines. 

Despite all the splendor surrounding you, the position of 'general maintenance' tends to become lackluster after cleaning up one too many barf piles near the food courts. Or being tasked with fishing cellphones out of the tops of tanks, enduring the hellish fury of whichever parent you had the misfortune of relaying the lost or damaged items policy to. Rattling off of a lengthy speech of ‘we wont pay for this,’ in corporate, smiley, customer-service-y terms. 

You sigh, pushing a heavy mop forward as music thrums through your ear buds. You take a moment to rest your head against your curled up hands at the top of the handle, listening to the last few seconds of the track, before popping the ear buds out one by one and shoving them into your jacket pockets. 

The slow drip of a faucet welcomes you back to cold, harsh reality. The last hour or more of your life was spent sopping up the ick that countless shoes tracked in and out the restroom facility throughout the day. 

By now, the sun is setting over the horizon line. You always pick up the latest shifts in the day. The overnight security staff are your regular acquaintances. You’ve bribed the main desk guy into being your ride-or-die with sugary, outdated donuts.  

There's a ding on your pager. You lean the broom handle on the brick wall, which is plastered with Chica and Roxanne themed posters that encourage handwashing. As you rest the mop, you falter to catch it from falling over, as the damn thing could never just stay put. Once you’ve prevented the disaster of the mop tipping over, you check the pager again, missing the glitching and rearranging of the letters on screen. 

Honestly, the technology is considerably retro compared to what's out on the market; looking more like a terminal you’d see in a sci-fi movie, or perhaps a calculator that would be chucked at a classmate in second grade. 

What greets you is an open-ended service ticket for the Haunted Shipwreck. You quirk an eyebrow. The exhibit was usually cleaned diligently by daytime staff in preparation for opening in the evening. Spruced up by the folks who worked at the bar, and the poor teenage saps who had to stand in the queue lines scanning tickets. The ‘ride’ was part of the finale of the virtual reality storyline that guests could pay a premium price to experience, connecting all the dots of the theme park’s attractions together. 

Plus, it was the only place that served alcohol after five pm. The specialty drinks are so neon and vivid that the sugar content has to be astronomical. 

Parents flock there like it is truly an oasis in a kiddy-park desert. 

Scratching at your head, you walk in a circle as you read the details, or lack thereof. The ticket reads, 'Exhibition needs spot cleaning.' Spot cleaning? A whole exhibit? Your thumb hovers over the button to accept the task. It beats mopping bathroom tiles any day.

You wring out the mop into its bucket, and begin the tedious task of ferrying cleaning supplies from one area to the next. On your way out, you sling the heft of a tool bag over your shoulder. 

_____________________________________

The scent of lemony freshness follows you in hot pursuit. You shove open the doors to the exhibit with a “Hello?”, expecting another person or two from the maintenance crew to have accepted the job. Cleaning a whole attraction on your lonesome did not bode well for the ‘no overtime’ policy. 

The response you get is absolute silence.

You feel along the wall for a light switch, and then remember that this is an amusement park, not a hotel. The controls for the area’s lights are all in the breaker room out back. Locked away with a key that is not in your possession. With a sigh, you fish out a flashlight from your tool bag and continue to wheel your cart in.

Without music blaring through the hidden speakers, or patrons milling through the bar onto the dance floor, the main atrium of the ride feels as haunted as its namesake. Grumbling, you pull out your pager and look down. The screen is blank, as if the task had never existed at all. 

Before you can question the disappearing act, spotlights turn on. A deafening click causes you to jolt and nearly drop the device.  

You look up, and are face to face with the animatronic who prowls the exhibit. Your lungs temporary pause all function as your heart works in overdrive. 

Above you is an elaborate trick of puppetry. A skeletal siren with a face as white as bone is frozen in place, with its arms outstretched as if it had been reaching towards you in the darkness to swipe you up. Thin, transparent plastic that shimmers like true fish scales acts as webbing between its sharp claws.

A billowing tail snakes like a serpent atop most of the area’s ceiling, weaving around the lighting system. The tip of its tailfin is curled around the rafters, as if supporting its weight. But that couldn’t be true; as a large cord connects into its back. Following the tubing leads to the pulley system which keeps it on predictable tracks. 

One eye is cyan. The other eye is entirely a deep crimson, casting an eerie glow across your face. The eye with the cyan pupil trembles. 

“Jeez, you scared me!” You say, too shocked to catch yourself before talking with an inanimate puppet.

The robotic siren, Moon, stares at you, not budging from its post. The lack of movement makes it feel more and more like a statue. You feel silly for speaking to it directly. 

But you remember: there's a person whose entire job is to spend the day operating these guys. To keep them lifelike, same as the free-roam 'animatronics' that are actually just staff in sweaty old mascot suits. Learning the truth as an employee had dimmed the magic of the theme park, but you still admit that it is an impressive work of robotics, especially considering the aquarium. 

“Are you still on for the night? Ride’s shut down,” You ask, pushing through the lingering fear you felt from the brief scare. During off-season the park closes earlier and is open about half the days, meaning that Haunted Shipwreck is mostly operational Friday and Saturday. Today is a Wednesday. You didn’t expect the elusive staff who controls the two mermaid animatronics to be on duty. 

In response, the animatronic's massive tail slaps against the faux rocky terrain that decorates its elaborate enclosure. Moon lands back on the main stage it perches on during performances. Without the constant spray of dry ice to create the illusion of fog, and the bright red lighting, the siren lacks the intimidating flare you expect.

“Well, I'm here to clean. That's all.” You rest your hands at your sides, settling your thumbs into the belt loops. 

Moon peers at you. Then it rolls over onto its back. The wires controlling its electronics flatten against the surface as it settles into place. You blink as you stare at a 'belly-up' fish. Its hands rest into a t-rex, claw-like position at its sides, as if it wasn’t used to laying down, either, and instantly felt awkward. 

“Oh,” You exclaim, wrapping your head around the vague task you accepted. At last, you understand who – or what, needs cleaning: the animatronic itself. There’s gum stuck to its sculpted fins and a few pieces of paper wedged into the joints that segment its torso from its abdomen, limiting its range of motion. 

A cruel prank, regardless of the recipient’s ability to feel discomfort. 

You set your tool bag down on the floor and stumble up the plastic molded rocks, right past the ‘DO NOT CLIMB’ sign. All things considered, the ‘spot cleaning’ looks like an easy project to finish off your shift. 

You sit on your knees next to the animatronic. 

You start by pulling the paper jammed into its torso hinge out. You brace a palm against its side, and carefully tug. Hearing the papers tear makes you curse softly under your breath. 

The animatronic watches, and then bends its torso hinge away, giving you easier access to pull the shredded bits out. 

You begin to notice that all the papers jammed inside the robot are actually posters and pamphlets that you can pick up for free at the photo kiosk a room over. Strange. 

Taking a second to indulge your curiosity, you inspect one of the postcards. 

The front of the card is split into two; the daytime half, Sun, spritely and bright on the left. And his cursed form that haunts the seas at night, Moon, in an ominous dark silhouette on the right. A few of these are even lenticular prints that you can shift back and forth, but those have to be bought at the complimentary gift shop at the end of the ride.  

The depicted dark, jagged silhouette of Moon is a sharp contrast to the docile animatronic beside you. Existing to be ‘vanquished’ time and time again, by brave patrons, in order to free Sun from the shackles of an evil witch’s hex. 

The witch character is set to debut at long last in a few months.

You find yourself smiling at the memories of watching the performance for the first time; the smoke and mirrors of the robots being switched out on stage to masquerade as one feat of engineering. The silly story never fails to be engaging, with how much production was poured into making Sun’s character so lifelike and memorable.

Now that you think about it, you wonder why Moon never got the same treatment. You look up to see that the ‘cursed siren’ on your mind is staring right at you, almost expectantly. Beneath its chassis where your palms rest is a soft, insistent hum of machinery, fans set to medium gear. It points to a piece of paper you missed under its arm socket. You lean closer to dig in, their gaze burning into the back of your head. 

The silence as you work on the clean-up becomes increasingly uncomfortable. Even more so when you consider that whoever is tasked with puppeting Moon is still up in the server room, no doubt working past their shift’s end to make your job easier by maneuvering the siren this way and that. 

Though, you wonder why the puppeteer didn't just meet you at Haunted Shipwreck themself to talk it through. Must be some kind of NDA, or lack of a remote control.

By the time you are scraping gum off glittering scales, you decisively break the ice with, “Y'know, Im surprised. I thought you'd be home by now,” beginning the idle, one-sided chatter. Just because you are here on business, doesn’t mean the exchange had to be so clinical. Your quiet companion shows that its listening by flicking the long fin that adorns its head. Bright cyan tracks your every movement with what feels like intense curiosity.

While you work, you take out the pager to check on your tasks for the night. In an instant, Moon swipes it, moving faster than you can comprehend. They slither away from you with shocking speed, cable attached to its back whirring to keep up with the momentum. 

“Hey! Give that back!” You reach up, fingertips brushing off the smooth scales upon its long, imposing tail. Up above, the animatronic fiddles with the pager. Frustration ripples off it as its hands clunkily tap away at the tiny, human-sized keyboard. 

“Don't break it, c'mon, it'll come out of my paycheck!” You swat at the robot whose mid-air. You gasp at the audacity it has to curl its tail inward and away from you. An unfair game of keep-away. 

Moon turns the screen of the pager back to you. 'Thank you,' is typed out in simplistic, boxy letters. You blink, staring at the screen as the pager is gingerly placed back in your hands, claws ghosting across your arms. The siren pulls back quickly. Moon fidgets with the hem of its costuming, a subtle act of nerves that trips you up even worse.

“You—you're welcome.” You stumble on your words, not quite sure why the sentiment is so shocking. But it feels like it came from the robot itself—whoever ran these guys was committed to staying in character. Even to other staff. You admire the dedication.

The robot leers down at you. Pupils burning, an unsettling lack of expression except for a wide-eyed stare that never relents the pressure it exerts. A hand extends out, and it takes a moment for you to realize that its asking for the pager back. Dumbstruck, you comply without a second thought. The robot taps away at the keyboard, dwarfed by its palms. You hear the click-click-click of the backspace button as it shakes its faceplate.

The pager returns to you. After all its effort, only one word is on the screen: 'Again.'

“Again?” You repeat aloud, looking up at Moon with confusion. The robot continues to fidget, before nodding so quickly in confirmation, that you are worried you'll need to send in a ticket to fix its neck hinge. That sort of job goes to the on-sight mechanics who the company contracts, not a regular maintenance guy like you. “You'd... like me to stop by, again?” You guess, and Moon's nerves boil over. The tracks in the ceiling creak as the creature 'swims' all around you, showcasing flashes of glittering fins and the faintest glint of sharp fangs beneath its flowing collar. With the blur of violet, magenta, and crimson swirling around you, its like being in the middle of a shark swarm— without any of the fear. 

Because you take the boundless enthusiasm to mean, 'yes.'

”Okay, okay. I will,“ You laugh at the strange antics, charmed by how earnest the supposedly wicked siren can be. You don’t know much about Moon's character here at the park; he was intentionally left mysterious to add to the villainous flare. Or perhaps, to excuse the lack of forethought into an antagonist designed for a theme park. So, to see him instead doing several aerial laps around the perimeter of the shipwreck, you can't help but find them endearing.

Your pager dings, reminding you that there is twenty minutes before your shift ends, and one bathroom facility left half-mopped in your haste. 

“It was nice meeting you,” You hesitate—you have no idea who this person is. You stare into the lens of the animatronic’s eyes, pondering who was watching you back on the camera feed. 

Maybe the two of you could get lunch sometime off the clock, away from the prying of corporate eyes. Perhaps they are nervous to break character. You glance to the security camera in the corner, and back, ”...Moon,” you decide to call them by the character they play, for the time being. 

The siren lurches toward you. 

You reel back, almost slipping on the plastic rocks.

Spindly limbs wrap around you, catching you from your fall, and—Oh.

You blink, struggling to keep up. The wretched siren of the coast is giving you a hug. The fabric of its costume sleeves is silky and smooth, and almost bundles you up like a tarp.   

”O-okay, then.” You pat at the back of the animatronic. Its staring at you so seriously with massive, leering eyes, that you are struggling not to buckle under the stress. The pressure Moon exerts is light, but spikes your heart rate regardless. Your feet are almost off the ground, balancing on the heels of your work boots as you tilt back. You aren’t looking to go for a swim, or to be put on medical leave from a concussion. 

“That’s, um, very sweet, thank you, Moon.” You tap its arms next to indicate you’re ready to be let go of. You find your cheeks flushing in embarrassment, wondering if the animatronic’s puppeteer thinks its amusing to scare you with this level of whiplash. Maybe it is funny to them, to make the theme park's aloof villain act all cuddly for one-on-one exchanges. 

“There we go—nice and easy,” you find yourself narrating, as the siren deliberately sets you back down on the floor. Not back onto the rocks; no, it cranes you over to main floor, where you run a much smaller risk of falling on uneven terrain. 

Walking over to collect your belongings, you shrug your tool bag over your shoulder, and place a hand on the handle of your cleaning cart.

The animatronic waves you off, watching with interest as you shove your way out the door. A glimpse of the outside world, the low lights of the shut-down park and the infinite expanse of the night sky.

You stop in the doorway, prolonging the moment, “Have a good night, Moon.” The animatronic stays perfectly still, playing its role. Poised with elegance and a threatening aura. The sight leaves you with chills, although you hardly had reason to fear the animatronic, or its friendly puppeteer.

The door closes.

A pause. 

Moon stays put until they can no longer hear the roll of your cart. Then it springs up. Pacing back and forth, tail moving as smoothly as kelp in the current, weaving through decorative pillars that sell the illusion of being underwater, trapped in a shipwreck. The sliding of the wire on its tracks plays a symphony as it maneuvers around. Feeling–feeling, like it did something right, by doing something terribly wrong. The sensation was so complex that it keeps cataloguing every second.

Moon couldn't believe that tampering with a maintenance ticket actually worked. A small, small chance that anyone would pick up the task he made up— jamming postcards into its segments in a fury to make the objective believable, once someone had actually said 'yes.'

The cord above squeals, and Moon realizes it needs to relax, less it break its ability to move within its small, small world. 

Settling back down, the siren sits on its lonely perch with a glimmer of hope–that you'll be back again the next night, and the next, and the next. After all, you spoke to them with such ease. Most everyone pretends he’s nothing more than a glorified stage prop. Doomed with an underutilized, elaborate AI on the same caliber as all the others in the park, who roam freely. Who get to interact, learn, and grow daily; who get to make friends and play so many games.  

Until next time, they'll work on their communication. Study the humans who walk through its exhibit closer and closer. Experiment with how to evoke emotions beyond fear.

Their tail thumps, eager to continue daydreaming throughout the rest of its cycle spent awake.

[mononijikayu]

therapy — nanami kento and gojo satoru.

“Seriously, Satoru–kun.” you muttered. “Why are you here?” Satoru smirked, leaning back against the bar. “What, I need a reason to drink?” You gave him a flat look. “You don’t drink. Well, that I know of. Last time I made you drink tequila, you looked at me funny after just one shot.” “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a good ambiance, or the sweetness, or the smell.” he quipped, gesturing vaguely to the dimly lit space around you. You snicker at his words. “Plus, I have a sixth sense for finding people who look like they’re about to make bad decisions.” You huffed a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. “And you think that’s me?”

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw!, r-18, afab! reader, use of she/her pronouns, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt, love, fluff, humor, light-hearted, falling in love, long-term relationship, toxic marriage, healing, age gap, emotional distress, relief, mental health issues, resentment, trauma, depression, confessions, cheating, profanity, drama, bitterness, explicit, sexual intercourse, making out, scratching, biting, multiple orgasms, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), creampie, praising, bodily fluids, mention of bodily fluids, mention of trauma, mention of emotional distress, mention of cheating, mention of sexual innuendos, depiction of emotional distress, depiction of cheating, depiction of sexual activities, actor! nanami, actor! gojo, housewife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 19k words

NOTE: this probably published while im still abroad, so this is automated put out by the queue!!! this took awhile and there were stuff i wanted to add, but that didn't work out. still, this means there'll be a couple more chapters and this isn't the finale. that being said, i think i love this chapter a lot and so did @areyna who graciously proofread this and was the very first victim and winner of this entire chapter. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing and as much as areyna did proofreading it!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

the good life ― masterlist.

YOU DON’T WANT TO BE HERE. But this is what has to happen if you are planning to stay together. You purse your lips, watching the old grandfather clock ticking away against the wall. The office smells like lavender and old books, a forced attempt at making the space feel welcoming. It doesn’t work. 

The tension between you and Kento is thick enough to suffocate, coiling in the silence as the therapist, this woman who seemed to be someone too young to understand marriage, let alone the wreckage of a twenty-five-year one, continued to flip through her notes. But she was all you had at this moment. So, you let your mouth stay shut.

“This is a safe space, you two.” she says, offering a practiced smile. “I want you both to feel comfortable expressing yourselves.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I don’t think comfort is possible when my husband’s only here because his company forced him.”

Kento exhales sharply, hands clasped on his lap. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, it’s not?” You turn to him, eyes sharp. “Then why are we here, Kento? Pray tell.”

He presses his lips together, a telltale sign of his irritation. “Because we need to fix this.”

“You need to fix this.” you correct. “I’ve been living in the mess you made.”

The therapist clears her throat, interrupting before the conversation spirals into yet another argument. “Let’s take a step back. Kento, why don’t you tell us what you hope to achieve from these sessions?”

He hesitates, as if he hasn’t even considered it. Then, he sighs. “I want us to be able to talk again. To be... something other than enemies.”

You resist the urge to laugh. Enemies. As if you asked for this war. As if you asked for all this trouble. The therapist turns to you. “And you?”

You stare at her, then at your husband Kento, then down at your fragile hands, sharp nails digging into your palm. As if wanting to wound, as if wanting something that echoes some sense of the hurt you feel. 

What do you want? An apology? A time machine? A different life?

“I want to stop being angry.” The words slip out before you can overthink them.

The room is silent for a beat too long. Kento looks at you then really looks at you. For the first time in years, he actually looks at you. And for a second, you remember who he used to be. The man that actually loved you, the man that actually takes care of you and wants you. 

The man who didn’t hurt you. You wanted to look at that Kento you once knew all over again. That Kento before fame, before the affairs. Before the resentment built a wall so high you forgot how to climb over it.

Maybe therapy was a bad idea. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the only chance you have left. The words hang between you, fragile and uncertain. I don’t want to keep hurting you. I don’t want to keep being hurt by you. I can’t do this with you anymore.

Yet those words are never said, they shouldn’t be said ever again. It’s too late for that, though, isn’t it? The damage has already been done a long time ago. And it was never going to be possible to fix. Not even when you wanted to, not even when he wanted to. The thought of staying is just the thought of foolish fools.

It was now etched into every sleepless night, every forced smile at industry events, every moment you swallowed your own misery for the sake of keeping up appearances. A single sentence, no matter how sincere, cannot erase twenty–five years of betrayal, resentment, and loss.

You inhale deeply, forcing yourself to keep your composure. “You say that now,” you murmur, not looking at him. “But where was this concern when I was at home raising our children alone? When I was waking up to rumors about your latest affair? When I was becoming a ghost of myself, while you—” 

“That’s unfair—”

“It is not unfair.” Your voice falters, thick with emotion. “While you were out there playing the perfect leading man for everyone but me, I had nothing. And you know it. You always have and you never did a damn thing about it.”

Kento doesn’t flinch, but you see the way his fingers curl slightly against his knee. He always does this when you fight nowadays. He always absorbs the hit without reacting, as if that makes him noble, as if his restraint somehow makes up for everything.

“I know I hurt you.” he says after a long pause.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

The therapist interjects gently, “Sometimes acknowledging the pain is the first step toward healing.”

You shake your head. “Acknowledging isn’t the same as making amends.” You turn to Kento, your voice sharp. “Do you even know what you took from me?”

He meets your gaze, but there’s uncertainty in his eyes. “Tell me. Tell me, so I can understand and fix it.” he says, and for once, he sounds like he actually wants to hear it.

You exhale shakily. “I was never supposed to be just your wife.”

The words taste foreign on your tongue, like something you buried so deep you forgot how much it mattered. It has been twenty–five years. Your youth was gone, it was long over. How could there be anything left of you now, when he had robbed you of all of it?

“I had dreams, Kento. I had plans for myself before you—before this.” You gesture vaguely between you. “But the moment you started rising, the moment your career became more important than anything else, I was expected to put mine aside. Because someone had to take care of everything you didn’t have time for. Someone had to be the constant in the chaos of your life. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.”

His brows furrow, and for the first time in a long time, you see something beyond detachment, beyond his own grief and beguilement. Perhaps it was truthful guilt, maybe. Or honest regret. But neither of those things change what’s already happened.

“I never asked you to give up your life for me.” he says quietly.

You scoff. “You didn’t have to. I was forced to. You were never going to let me have an abortion. You always wanted children. And I didn’t.”

Nanami Kento stares at you, his face unreadable. But you see it—the brief flicker of something behind his eyes. Shock? Guilt? Maybe even hurt. “You didn’t want them.” he repeats, as if he needs to hear it again to believe it. “Our beloved children?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I didn’t plan for them. I didn’t ask for them.” Your voice rises, filled with years of buried anguish. “I wasn’t ready, Kento. I wasn’t allowed to be ready to leave chemistry behind. Because you—” you jab a finger toward him. “—made the decision for me. You knew I didn’t want this, and you didn’t care.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” Your laugh is sharp and bitter. “What’s not fair is being forced into motherhood before I even had the chance to figure out who I was. What’s not fair is raising children alone while their father is out playing the devoted family man on magazine covers.”

His expression darkens, but he doesn’t interrupt. Maybe he knows he can’t argue against the truth.

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself. “And don’t twist my words. I love our children, Kento. But loving them doesn’t erase the years I spent resenting what I had to sacrifice. It doesn’t erase the hell my body went through to bring them into this world. The sickness, the pain, the tearing, the bleeding. Do you even know what it’s like to almost die giving birth? Do you care?”

His face pales. “I—”

“You weren’t there, Kento.” you cut him off. “Not really. You were there for the photos, for the press, for the illusion of a happy family. But when I was crying in the middle of the night with a newborn that wouldn’t stop screaming, when I was too exhausted to function, when I was losing myself piece by piece. So, where were you?”

Silence.

His hands clenched into fists on his lap. “I thought you were happy.”

Your breath catches, something breaking inside you.

“You thought?” you echo, incredulous. “That’s the problem, Kento. You thought. You assumed. You never asked, you never listened. You just expected me to play my role.”

The weight of your words settles over him, pressing down like a tidal wave. He swallows, looking away. “I wanted us to have a family.”

“And I wanted a choice.” Tears sting at the edges of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

“I love our children,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “I love them more than anything. But don’t you dare act like this was easy for me. Don’t you dare act like I didn’t suffer to give you what you wanted.”

He exhales, his shoulders sagging. For once, Nanami Kento who was always celebrated, untouchable, always in control. He looks utterly lost at what to do now. Kento looks down, his expression unreadable. And for a moment, you wonder if he finally understands—or if this is just another scene in the performance of his life.

What could he do to make it all better, easier for you?

How could he erase the bitterness and the anguish of twenty five years?

The therapist clears her throat, cutting through the thick tension like a knife. “Let’s pause for a moment.”

You turn to her, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, your emotions still raw and thrumming under your skin. Kento’s warm caramel gaze remains fixed on the floor, his crestfallen face suddenly unreadable.

“I can see that this is an incredibly painful subject for both of you.” the therapist continues, her voice steady but firm. “But if we’re going to make progress, we need to shift the way we approach it.” She looks between the two of you. “Right now, you’re both speaking at each other, not to each other.”

Your jaw tightens, the sting of frustration still hot in your throat. “I am talking to him. He just doesn’t want to hear it.”

“I do, I know I am.” Kento says, his voice quiet but certain. “I’m listening.”

The therapist nods, acknowledging his words but keeping control of the conversation. “Good. Then let’s slow down. Let’s take a step back and focus on what’s happening here, in this room, right now.”

She turns to you. “You’ve carried a lot of pain for a long time. And you’re finally letting yourself express it. That’s important. But I want you to ask yourself. What do you need from Kento at this moment? Right now, not in the past, not for the things he can’t change. What do you need today?”

You blink, thrown by the question. What do you need? For so long, your mind has been caught in the past, replaying every betrayal, every sacrifice, every moment you felt abandoned. But the therapist is asking you to focus on the present, and the shift feels jarring.

You glance at Kento, who lifted his face and started watching you with an expression you can’t quite place or ever explain. You took a moment for yourself. One inhale, one exhale. Then, finally, you speak.

“I need you to acknowledge what I went through.” you say, voice quieter now, but still firm. “Not just say you thought I was happy. Not just say you wanted a family. I need you to really, truly see what it cost me.”

Kento nods slowly, his throat working as he swallows. “Okay.” His voice is rough, like the words are hard to get out. “I can do that.”

The therapist turns to him now. “Kento, what do you need from your wife at this moment?”

He hesitates, and for the first time in this session, you see something raw in his eyes. Something unguarded. “I need to know if there’s still a chance that this is still working,” he says quietly. “If all I’ve done….if everything I’ve broken is beyond repair.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy with uncertainty.

The therapist watches you carefully, then speaks again. “Neither of you has to answer that today. Right now, all we need to do is be honest about where you are, and what you’re feeling.”

She leans forward slightly, her gaze soft but unwavering. “And it’s okay if the answer isn’t clear yet.”

You exhale slowly, glancing at Kento once more. Maybe you don’t know the answer yet. Maybe that’s okay. The air in the room is thick with emotion, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I don’t feel like I know what to say about any of that.” you whisper, your voice quieter now, but no less full of pain. “It’s one thing to stay, it’s another to fix the relationship.” Your fingers tighten in your lap. “You hurt me. And I still don’t know how to cope.”

Kento remains silent, but his body tenses beside you. 

You can feel his gaze on you, waiting, bracing.

The therapist speaks up again, her voice even, grounding. “This isn’t about placing blame—it’s about understanding.” She turns to Kento. “What do you hear when she says this?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s picking apart your words piece by piece, trying to find the truth beneath them. “That I took you for granted.” he finally says. 

His voice is quieter now, rougher. When he looks at you, it’s not with the usual detached acceptance of your anger. It’s something rawer, something closer to regret. Something that breaks from that egotistical sense of self.

“That I expected you to stay, no matter how much it hurt you.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t let yourself react.

Because he’s right. He did expect you to stay.

Through the betrayals. Through the nights spent alone. Through the resentment and the exhaustion and the quiet, suffocating grief of losing yourself to a life you never truly wanted. He expected you to endure it because that’s what you’ve always done.

The therapist watches the exchange carefully, then speaks again. “Kento, understanding that is important. But what does that mean for you now?”

Kento’s gaze doesn’t leave yours. “It means I can’t keep pretending an apology is enough.” he says, voice rough, strained. “I can’t just ask you to move forward like the past doesn’t exist.”

You swallow, your throat tightens.

The therapist nods. “And you?” she asks gently, turning back to you. “What does it mean for you to hear him say this?”

You hesitate. Because you don’t know. You’ve wanted acknowledgement for so long. You’ve craved it, ached for it. And now, sitting here, hearing your husband Nanami Kento say the things you always needed to hear, you realize something terrifying. 

Recognition doesn’t erase the past. Understanding doesn’t heal the wounds. And now, you have to decide whether you want to heal. So, you don’t say anything. Because for the first time, he’s finally right. But the question remains—does it even matter anymore?

The room feels heavier now, as if the walls themselves are absorbing the weight of your words. Kento’s admission lingers between you, a quiet acknowledgment of what you’ve always known but never heard from his lips.

But does it change anything?

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning back against the stiff leather couch. “And what now?” you ask, voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you. “Now that you finally understand, what are you going to do about it?”

Kento hesitates, like he hasn’t thought that far ahead. Of course, he hasn’t. He was forced into this session, just like you were. Maybe he thought showing up was enough. That the act of being here, of listening, would be enough to fix the unfixable.

“I don’t know.” he admits, and somehow, that makes you angrier than anything else.

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “Typical.”

The therapist interjects gently. “This process isn’t about quick solutions. It’s about identifying the patterns that have brought you both here and seeing if they can be changed.” She glances at Kento. “You’ve admitted to taking your wife for granted, to making choices that hurt her. But what are you willing to do to make amends?”

His jaw tightens. He’s always been careful with his words. All too trained by years and even decades in the industry to say just enough without ever saying too much. But now, there’s no script to follow. No director to guide him.

Finally, he speaks. “I want to rebuild what I broke.”

You laugh, the sound bitter. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that, Kento? Turning back time? Undoing years of neglect and infidelity?”

His expression hardens. “I know I can’t change the past. But I don’t want this—” he gestures vaguely between you, much like you did earlier, “—to be how it ends.”

Your stomach twists. “You think there’s still something left to save?”

A long silence stretches between you. Kento doesn’t answer, and you don’t think he even knows the answer himself. You knew very well what that meant. Even he himself does not know how to do anything about a marriage he broke.

The therapist’s voice is soft but firm. “Maybe the better question is—do you want there to be? Both of you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the shift in focus. Do you?

For so long, your anger has been the only thing holding you together. It’s easier to be furious than to admit how much it hurts. How much it still hurts. But wanting something and believing in it are two very different things.

You glance at Kento, the man you once loved more than anything. The man who shattered you, piece by piece, over two and a half decades. Do you want to salvage what’s left? Or is this therapy nothing more than a final autopsy of a marriage long dead?

“I don’t know.” you finally admit, the honesty sitting heavy on your tongue.

Kento flinches, just barely. But it’s enough for you to see it. Maybe, for the first time, he’s realizing that there might not be a way back from this. Maybe he should’ve thought about that before he broke you.

YOU DON’T KNOW IF YOU BELIEVE IN THE GODS ANYMORE. But you knew that it would mean a lot to your daughter Keiko for you both to visit the temple for prayer. She believes in the power of the gods a little bit more than you do. That’s why she suggests going there, at the very least to shake the nerves from the upcoming medical board licensure exams. 

The grounds of Yushima Tenman-gū are alive with quiet devotion.Perhaps equal to that during the New Year visits made by the people within Bunkyō ward. The scent of incense clings to the air, blending with the crispness of the late afternoon. 

Students and parents move through the space with careful steps, their voices hushed, their prayers whispered. Some clutch omamori charms tightly in their hands, while others write their wishes on ema plaques, their hopes hanging alongside hundreds of others, swaying gently in the breeze.

Your daughter Keiko moves ahead with purpose, stepping toward the main shrine, her back straight, her hands already reaching into her bag for a coin to toss into the offering box. She has always been like this, always so steady, precise. She was a young woman who knew what she wanted and how to chase it.

You linger behind for a moment, watching her.

The last time you had come to a shrine like this, you were still young. You had prayed for a future that felt distant yet full of possibility. Back then, you had imagined a life built on your own terms. A future of a career. A love that was chosen, not endured. A freedom that was never granted to you.

And now, here you are, standing in the shadow of everything you lost, watching your daughter reach for the things you never got to have. You don’t know if that makes you bitter or relieved. But you knew that there was pride and joy, and perhaps that blossoming of envy on the corners of your heart.

Your son steps up beside you, hands in his pockets, his posture more relaxed but no less thoughtful. “You should pray too, mom.” he murmurs, his voice barely above the wind.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. Pray? For what? For your daughter’s success? 

Of course, you want that for her. You have always wanted the best for your children, even when motherhood was something that had been forced upon you. Even when resentment had gnawed at you in the darkest hours of the night, when exhaustion had made you wonder who you might have been if things had been different.

For your son’s peace? He’s always been the quieter one, observing more than speaking, carrying a kind of stillness that reminds you too much of Kento. You wonder if he ever saw through the illusions of your marriage. If he ever realized how much of yourself you had lost trying to keep the family whole.

Or maybe you should pray for yourself. The thought startles you for a moment. You weren’t particularly religious. But every time you visit a temple, you know you have spent so much of your life praying for others, for their futures, for their happiness. But what about you? Do you even know what to wish for anymore?

Your feet carry you forward before you can think too hard about it. You reach into your bag, pulling out a singular coin, the cool metal pressing against your palm. Stepping up to the offering box, you toss it in, the small clink of it landing echoing louder in your ears than it should.

You press your hands together, fingers trembling slightly as you close your eyes. And then….there was nothing. No words come to mind. No clear wish forms in your heart. You stand there, empty, uncertain, the weight of a lifetime of silent suffering pressing against you. 

The gods, if they are listening, must already know. Maybe prayers don’t need to be spoken to be heard. Maybe standing here, finally allowing yourself to be present. Not as a wife, not as the woman Kento Nanami had molded to fit into his world, but simply you is enough. Maybe this is where healing begins.

As you step out of the shrine grounds, the late afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting long shadows on the stone path. You were sure the blue hour was about to come any time soon. The air is crisp, and the scent of incense still lingers faintly, wrapping around you like an unspoken farewell.

Kenshin walks ahead, his hands tucked into his pockets, his pace just slightly quicker than yours. You don’t call out to him. He’s always been the type to process things quietly, to put distance between himself and heavy conversations. Keiko, on the other hand, stays by your side. You can feel her glancing at you before she finally speaks.

“We’ve talked about it, mom.” she says, voice soft but firm.

You blink, turning to her. “What?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Kenshin and I. We’ve talked about you and Dad. About what’s been happening.”

Your chest tightens, your breath hitching just slightly. You don’t know why it surprises you—of course, they’ve noticed. Of course, they’ve thought about it too. You could only take a soundless breath. 

The thought of your children being such people, who think about their wretched parents instead of their own lives. You can only think you have such good kids, but also guilt that they have to deal with such a thing at all. This was after all the mess of overbearing adults. 

“I already told you and your brother that this is a mess me and your father must deal with on our own.” You tell your daughter with a sigh, feeling the cold air brush against your cheeks. “You have your own lives to live too.”

“We know.” Keiko says, her hands resting on her jacket pocket. “But we still think about it. That’s just how it is.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow at her. “Then you’re too stubborn.”

She snickers. “Where do you think I got that from?”

You shake your head. “You’re too much my daughter.”

“Hm, aren’t I?”

The world around you keeps moving as you both become silent. The students walk past, the hum of distant conversations, the rustling of trees as the wind weaves through them. You purse your lips, feeling the wind become rougher and colder. For a moment, you wish that spring could come and remove the cold of autumn winds from your life.

"We think it’s better if you leave him." She suddenly says, picking up the conversation again.

Your daughter has always been straightforward, unafraid to speak her mind. But hearing it from her, hearing that it was words that came from both of them….it feels different, feels too much like a crashing wave battering you in a typhoon.

You inhale sharply, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “Keiko… I told you, that’s not something you and Kenshin should have to worry about.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver. “How could we not?” she asks, her voice gentle but firm. “You think we haven’t noticed? The way you look when you’re with him? The way you don’t look at him anymore?”

You don’t answer.

Because what is there to say?

She isn’t wrong.

Your breath catches, the words sinking in faster than you can process them. Keiko watches you carefully, her expression unreadable, but there’s something knowing in her gaze. Something that makes you feel exposed in a way you weren’t expecting.

You shake your head, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “That isn’t the point, Keiko.” you insist, your voice wavering just slightly. “Me and your father are in therapy. We’re still not making any decisions.”

Keiko doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“You know for a fact that therapy just makes you even more angry at Dad.” she points out. “You come back from those sessions exhausted, and not in a good way.” She sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a habit she’s had since childhood. “Really, I know you love him. But how is that enough to stay?”

“Look, I just—-”

She pauses, then adds, almost too casually, “You aren’t as smiley as when you’re with your new friends. Gojo–san and his group of friends, right?”

Your breath stutters. You want to argue. To tell her she’s wrong, that she doesn’t understand, that your marriage is complicated and layered and full of history she hasn’t lived through. But you can’t. Because she’s right.

With Kento, you feel like you’re drowning in old wounds, forced to relive them every time you try to mend something that might already be broken beyond repair. But with Gojo Satoru and his friends… Gojo, especially…..it’s different. 

The weight isn’t there. 

You can breathe. 

And maybe that’s what scares you the most.

Keiko tilts her head, studying you. “You like them, don’t you?” she states, as if confirming something she already knew. “Gojo–san, especially.”

“They’re just friends.” you say quickly, too quickly. “Gojo–san, exceptionally.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t.” Her lips twitch slightly. “But they make you happy. That’s all I’m saying.”

You don’t respond, your thoughts a tangled mess. Keiko doesn’t push, but she doesn’t look away either. Her silence is deliberate, patient—giving you space to deny it, to argue, to deflect. But you don’t. 

Because what is there to say? That she’s wrong? That Gojo Satoru and his friends are just a temporary distraction from your crumbling marriage? That you haven’t caught yourself laughing a little too easily when he teases you, or feeling lighter in his presence in a way you haven’t felt in years?

You swallow, glancing away, but Keiko hums knowingly. “See? You can’t even say I’m wrong.”

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “Keiko, this isn’t about that.”

She shrugs. “Maybe not. But it matters.”

You exhale, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t even know what I want right now.”

Keiko’s expression softens. “You don’t have to.” She shifts closer, lowering her voice like she’s afraid of saying it too loudly. “But Mom… doesn’t it tell you something? That you feel happier with them than you do with Dad?”

Your chest tightens.

Because you know what it tells you.

You just don’t know if you’re ready to accept it.

YOU HAVEN’T BEEN TO A BAR IN NEARLY TWENTY YEARS. Well, at least by yourself. The amber glow of the bar lights cast a soft haze over the room, reflecting off polished wood and half-empty glasses. Low murmurs of conversation drifted through the space, but they barely registered in your mind.

All you could feel was the crushing weight of everything that has been happening in your life as of late. Your marriage, your children’s quiet acceptance of your inevitable decision, the unraveling of twenty-five years of your life right before your eyes.

So you did the only thing that made sense. You walked. Not toward anything in particular, not with any real destination in mind. Just away. Away from the conversation with Keiko, away from the heavy silence that had followed it, away from the empty hotel room waiting for you. And somehow, you ended up here. Alone.

The bar was dimly lit and upscale, but not the flashy kind. It was more of a quiet, intimate retreat for people who didn’t want to be seen, who came here to disappear into the background. It was perfect. You slid onto a barstool, resting your elbows on the counter, your head feeling too heavy for your shoulders.

"Whiskey neat, please." you muttered, barely sparing the bartender a glance.

The glass was placed in front of you moments later, golden liquid catching the light. You curled your fingers around it, but you didn’t drink. Not yet. Instead, you sat there, staring at the reflection of yourself in the mirrored wall behind the shelves of expensive liquor. 

The woman who looked back at you was someone you barely recognized. Tired eyes. Set jaw. A kind of sadness so deep it had settled into your bones. One that you could never imagine for yourself all those years ago. Where has that bright eyed young woman gone?

And then the thought came, sharp and undeniable—Fuck. This is it. This is the moment I finally drown.

The realization clawed at your chest, a quiet sort of devastation. You didn’t even hear him approach.

"…Didn’t think I’d find you here."

Your breath caught. You froze. Your head snapped up, and there he was. Gojo Satoru. Tall, sharp, annoyingly out of place in a bar like this, with his white hair and easy grin and the kind of presence that drew attention even when he wasn’t trying to. 

He wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses, and his infamous blue eyes—too bright, too knowing was settled on you like he’d already figured out why you were here before you had even admitted it to yourself. You swallowed, gripping your glass a little tighter.

“What are you doing here, Satoru–kun?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

Satoru tilted his head slightly, his grin lazy but his gaze sharper than usual. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Your fingers twitched against the glass. 

Of course, of all people, he would be the one to find you here.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to steady your grip on the glass. 

"I asked first, didn’t I?" You whispered back at him. “You can’t ask a question with another question. That’s just….stupid.”

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle, stepping closer before sliding into the barstool beside you like he belonged there. Like he belonged in this moment, with you. Almost all too perfectly. You purse your lips into a flat line.

"Just passing through, like I always am." he said, casually resting his forearm on the counter. "Didn’t expect to see you here, though. I didn’t think you would be in Bunkyō.”

“Well, that’s a long story. No, actually I can summarize it. But not right now.” You hummed, noncommittal, taking a small sip of your drink. 

The burn was sharp, settling deep in your chest, but it didn’t ground you the way you’d hoped. And then you suddenly fell back into that silence, the silence you were trying to escape with the bounty of burning alcohol pushed down your throat and probably being drunk enough to dance to the beat of the music.

Satoru leaned in slightly, eyes flicking over your expression. "What’s wrong?"

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Do I really have to say more about it? I thought I’ve told you enough about it."

His grin softened, just a little. "Well, I wouldn’t mind repetitive stories."

“I have too many of those.”

“Hm, then tell me one.” He leans against the table, getting closer to you. “Go on. I’ll listen.”

You looked at him for a moment, suddenly mesmerized by the look on his face. That tender wonder. You gulped soundlessly as you saw the smile on his lips warmer than all the other times you’ve ever seen it. You drank another sip.

Then and there, tender silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not like the suffocating stillness you had grown used to with Nanami Kento—this was different. It was… lighter. Easier. And that was dangerous in its own way.

"You’re drinking alone." Satoru pointed out eventually, his voice quieter now.

You let out a breathless laugh, swirling the liquid in your glass. "I guess I am."

"Didn’t seem like the type."

You glanced at him. "And what type is that?"

Satoru studied you for a moment before answering. "The type to drown alone."

The words hit you harder than you expected. Because that’s exactly what you had been thinking before he showed up. Before he sat down beside you, pulling you out of your own head without even trying.

You looked away, eyes tracing the rim of your glass. "Well….." you murmured. "Maybe I didn’t want to be found."

Satoru tilted his head, considering. Then, lightly, "Too bad. I found you already, didn’t I?"

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching slightly despite yourself. "You’re insufferable."

He grinned. "That’s what they all say."

Gojo Satoru didn’t look away. If anything, his bright eyed gaze felt heavier now. It was as if it was all too perceptive, all too knowing. You couldn’t help but shift in your seat, fingers tapping absently against your glass.

“Seriously, Satoru–kun.” you muttered. “Why are you here?”

Satoru smirked, leaning back against the bar. “What, I need a reason to drink?”

You gave him a flat look. “You don’t drink. Well, that I know of. Last time I made you drink tequila, you looked at me funny after just one shot.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a good ambiance, or the sweetness, or the smell.” he quipped, gesturing vaguely to the dimly lit space around you. You snicker at his words. “Plus, I have a sixth sense for finding people who look like they’re about to make bad decisions.”

You huffed a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. “And you think that’s me?”

Satoru’s grin faded just slightly. “I think you look like someone who needed company but didn’t know how to ask for it.”

The words landed uncomfortably close to the truth. You turned your gaze back to your drink, the ice melting slowly, thinning the whiskey bit by bit. Had that been what you wanted? Company? A distraction?

“Frankly, I really don’t know what I need right now.” you admitted finally. The words tasted bitter.

Satoru watched you for a moment before calling over the bartender. “Two more, here.” he said smoothly, nodding at your glass. “Thank you.”

You frowned. “I didn’t say I wanted another.”

He shrugged. “Then you can watch me drink it.”

You sighed but didn’t argue, because some part of you. That stupid, brave, brutish, dangerous part of you didn’t actually mind his presence. Not in this way. Not in this closer, unimaginable way that you knew you shouldn’t be.

The bartender set down two fresh glasses, and Satoru lifted his own glass with a lazy smile. “To bad decisions, [name].” he said, raising it slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s a terrible toast.”

“Fine, then you pick one.”

You hesitated, glancing at him, then at your untouched drink. After a long pause, you exhaled and murmured back at him. “To not drowning alone.”

Gojo Satoru stilled for just a fraction of a second before his smile returned—quieter this time, almost too genuine, almost too warm, almost too real and only for you. He clicked his glass against yours. 

“To that. And more.” he agreed.

The whiskey burned less the second time around. Or maybe you were just getting used to it. The way it settled deep in your chest, loosening something tight inside you. Gojo Satoru didn’t say much after your toast. 

He just sat there, nursing his drink, letting the silence stretch between you in a way that wasn’t suffocating. He had that kind of presence, you realized. One that filled spaces without making them feel crowded. It was unnerving.

You had spent so many years in a marriage where silence meant distance, where unspoken words festered like wounds. But this was different. This was easy. Dangerous in its own way. Too much and you know it would be far worse than dangerous. 

He called for a third round of whiskey and then a fourth and then a fifth. By the time you lifted your last, you didn’t remember how many he called for. You didn’t stop him at each call for a round. In some ways, you realize you needed this as much as he did. These bad decisions. 

Satoru tapped his fingers idly against the counter, glancing at you. "So, princess." he said finally, "What now?"

You blinked at him, surprised at his nickname for you. You felt your cheeks flushed, perhaps more than from the alcohol. "What do you mean?"

He tilted his head, studying you. "You’re in Tokyo, alone. Kids are off doing their own thing. Husband’s…well, not here. Obviously." He waved a hand, trailing off as if the rest of that sentence didn’t need to be said. "You’ve got time to figure out what you want."

You swallowed. "I don’t know what I want."

Satoru hummed, nodding like he understood something you didn’t. Then, he stood up, stretching lazily. "C’mon."

You frowned. "Where?"

He grinned, like it should’ve been obvious. "A walk."

You stared at him, unsure. Gojo Satoru wasn’t the kind of person who waited. He was the kind of person who decided things for you, who swept you up in his pace before you even realized you were moving.

And maybe that was why, when he held out his hand, not to take yours, just an invitation. Perhaps that’s why you quickly considered it. For the first time in years, you considered something that wasn’t dictated by your marriage, by your children, by duty or guilt or obligation.

You glanced down at your hand. At the simple gold band circling your ring finger, there was never an engagement ring. You after all got married in a haste. But at one point, it was everything to you. It had once meant something. A promise. A commitment. A life built together.

But now, it was a weight. A reminder of everything you had held onto for too long. You took a moment to look at it. You swallowed the bile down from your throat. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You opened your eyes and let it slide off.

The cool metal felt foreign in your palm. Perhaps lighter than it should have been. You set it down on the polished wood of the bar, the sound small, but deafening in your ears. Gojo Satoru’s gaze flickered to it, his expression unreadable.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled at you.

And when he turned to leave, you followed.

YOU SHOULD HAVE WORN SOMETHING WARMER. The night air was cold. You didn’t notice. Your body was moving, one foot in front of the other, step after step. But everything else felt distant, muted beneath the raw ache in your chest. 

Your breath came unsteady, uneven. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms just to feel something. Anything to ground yourself at this moment. You knew you weren’t just trembling from the cold.

Your throat was raw from holding back everything that threatened to spill over. Your eyes were swollen, the evidence of too many emotions crashing into you all at once. Your soul felt like it had been ripped apart and yet, there was nothing left to do but keep walking.

Satoru walked beside you. His presence wasn’t loud, and wasn't intruding in a moment where you needed to comfort yourself for something you had done. He didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless words or tell you it would be okay when you both knew it wouldn’t. Well, not yet.

He had simply draped his jacket over your shoulders without a word, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. Hands shoved into his pockets, his usual easy, relaxed gait unchanged.

It was like he wasn’t just walking beside a woman who had shattered right in front of him. Like he wasn’t carrying the weight of everything you had left behind.

Minutes passed. You weren’t sure how many. The city lights blurred together, neon signs and distant car horns blending into the background of your grief. And then, finally, he looks at you tenderly. "…You alright?"

His voice was quiet. Not teasing, not playful, just gentle. It almost broke you, how careful he was with you at everything and anything. It was crazy. It wasn’t something he had to do. And yet he does.

You let out a laugh, one that was harsh, bitter, something close to a sob. You didn’t know if it was the effects of alcohol or a broken heart. But you didn’t want to know.

“No.” you rasped. “Not even close.”

Gojo Satoru didn’t flinch at the sharpness of your voice. If anything, he looked like he expected it. Like he would have been more surprised if you had tried to lie. "Yeah." he murmured. "Didn’t think so."

You exhaled your breath shakily, tilting your head back to stare at the sky. The city lights drowned out most of the stars, leaving behind only a few faint specks of brightness in the distance. It just truly felt fitting.

"I don’t even know what I’m doing, not anymore." you admitted. The words felt heavy in your throat, like they had been waiting to be said for years. "I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what comes next."

Satoru hummed, tilting his head as if considering your words. "Does it matter right now?"

You turned to him, frowning. "What?"

"Does it matter?" he repeated simply, kicking a stray pebble along the sidewalk. "Knowing where you’re going? Knowing what’s next?" He shot you a sideways glance, something unreadable in his expression. "You already left the bar. That’s enough for now, isn’t it?"

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him it wasn’t enough, that nothing about this was enough.  But you stopped. Because, wasn’t it? You had left. Not just the bar. Not just your ring. But the life you had convinced yourself you were trapped in. You did that.

And maybe you didn’t know what came next. 

Maybe the thought of facing it still made you sick with fear.

But for the first time in a long time, you did something for you.

Even if you didn’t know where you were going.

You let out a breath, slow and uncertain, and Satoru must have seen something shift in your expression because his grin returned on his beautiful lips. Though it was small, teasing, just a little softer than the usual he gives to others. In some ways, this smile somehow felt crafted only for you.

"See? You’re thinking too much again." he said, nudging your shoulder lightly. "Just walk with me for a little while, yeah?"

You swallowed. You nodded. "Yeah." you whispered. "Okay."

“Okay.” He whispers back, nodding at you.

Silence once again follows through both of you.

“…How old are you?” you finally croaked.

Satoru blinked. “…Thirty-five. Thirty-six this December.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Jesus Christ.” you muttered. “I’m twelve years older than you.”

Satoru grinned. “And?”

You stared at him. “And this means you should be hitting on girls your own age,” you deadpanned. “Not dragging miserable, middle-aged wives out of bars.”

Satoru just laughed. “I wasn’t hitting on you.” he said smoothly. “Well….not yet.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because asking a married woman out for walks around the park was totally innocent. And especially tonight, after getting her quite hammered.”

Satoru grinned. “Hey, in my defense, I didn’t see the ring.”

You snorted. “Bullshit.”

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “Okay.” he admitted. “I did know when I met you again. But in my defense those aren’t the first times we met. I didn’t know you were married then.”

And fuck. That hit like a sledgehammer. Your mouth parted, but no words came out. Your throat seized as something cold and sharp coiled around your chest. “…What?”

Satoru just smiled, slow and knowing. “I knew you from a long time ago. I told you that, didn’t I? That it was nice to meet you again.”

Your brows furrowed. “How?”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, as if to make sure you caught every word. “You remember when you visited the university? And you spoke to a student—”

Your breath stilled. A hazy memory surfaced. Years and years ago, standing in a lecture hall, speaking to a room full of eager, wide-eyed students. A boy in the back row, watching you with quiet intensity. And then later, conversed with you.

“That was you?” you whispered.

Satoru laughed, bright and unguarded. “I was also the student you saved. The one Yaga talked about. The one you gave your every savings for.”

The air seemed to shift, heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. “This is just…..”

Satoru’s voice softened, just slightly. “Because of you, my mom and I got through it. I got through it. I’m here because of you.”

A lump formed in your throat. 

You swallowed hard, unable to look away from him.

“I owe you a lot, you know?” he murmured.

And for the first time that night, you didn’t have a comeback.

The weight of his words settled in your chest like a stone, pressing against ribs already too tight from years of swallowing everything down—regrets, sacrifices.

All the quiet ache of knowing that your choices had never really been about yourself. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that what you did didn’t matter, that time swallowed up good deeds as easily as it did mistakes.

But now here he was. Living, breathing proof that something you did had meant something. That someone remembered.

You exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the table as if it could anchor you.

“I—I didn’t think anyone remembered that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru tilted his head, watching you carefully. “Well, I did. And so did my mom.” His grin softened, losing its teasing edge. “She still talks about you, you know? Calls you an angel and she hasn’t even met you yet..”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “An angel….” you repeated, shaking your head. “God, if only she knew.”

Satoru didn’t look away, didn’t flinch at the self-loathing curled around your words like a second skin. If anything, his expression darkened. Not with pity, but with something else. Something knowing. 

“You are an angel.”

You shook your head. “I am not.”

“She does know, as well as I do, that you are.” he said quietly. “She knows you saved me when no one else would.” His fingers drummed lightly against the wood of the table before he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “But I don’t think you ever saved yourself, did you?”

Your stomach twisted. “That’s not—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “That’s not how life works.”

Satoru didn’t move, didn’t blink. “No. But it could be. If…if you just let me help you too.”

A sharp breath escaped you, half a laugh, half something much more fragile. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the weight of old regrets pressing down on you, but either way, you felt exposed. Raw in a way you hadn’t been in years.

You had spent so long being someone else’s something. A wife, a mother, a prized trophy on a shelf, a puppet on a string, a prisoner to something you never wanted. You had forgotten what it was like to be seen. Really be seen.

“I don’t know what you expect from me, Satoru–kun.” you said, voice quieter now, more uncertain.

Satoru was silent for a moment. Then, with an almost lazy motion, he reaches across from you and lets his fingers brush against yours. “I don’t expect anything, [name].” he said simply. “I just wanted you to know—you weren’t forgotten.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It was such a simple thing. A simple touch. A simple truth. And yet it cracked something deep inside of you, something you had been holding together with nothing but sheer force of will.

Before you could stop yourself, before you could think better of it, you turned your hand over, letting your fingers curl around his. Just for a moment.

Just long enough to remember what warmth felt like. Just long enough to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to be something more than a ghost of who you used to be.

The air between you shifted, charged with something fragile yet electric. A slow, inevitable pull. Your fingers were still wrapped around his, neither of you moving, neither of you daring to shatter the moment. But then you did.

You leaned in, just slightly, drawn to him by a force you couldn’t name. He mirrored you, his body tilting forward as if answering a call he had always known existed.

Satoru’s breath fanned against your lips, his gaze flickering down for a split second before finding your eyes again, an unreadable mix of longing and restraint simmering in his expression.

“I wanted to do well by you, everyday I breathed. Everyday I lived and did — I did because I wanted to be someone you could be proud of.” he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher. “All my life.”

Your breath hitched. “Satoru….”

“I just…” He exhaled shakily, his other hand coming to rest lightly on the table between you, as if he were grounding himself. “I just knew I wanted to be there for you. To… to love you in my own way. Even from afar.”

You felt your pulse in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you like something warm, something dangerous.  “When I met you, for the first time….I just…” he continued, his tone almost reverent. “All I could realize was when certain atoms collide, it’s instantaneous. And it’s inevitable.”

“Chemistry.” You whispered under your breath. 

“Yes.” He smiles at you. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours. “And that’s how I feel for you.”

You sucked in a breath, the confession settling deep inside your ribs, winding around your heart like something ancient and undeniable. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you brought your free hand up, barely touching the fabric of his sleeve. Testing. Searching. 

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol. You didn’t know if it was the cold driving you mad or the full moon settling down below the two of you. But it was something. Something was driving you to this feverish madness.

“Satoru.” you murmured to him, meeting his eyes.

His name felt heavier in your mouth now, heavier than it had ever been. His grip on your fingers tightened. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. There was only the space between you. And the question of what came next.

One second, there was space that needed to be filled. It was charged, trembling, unbearable. But then all you knew next was that his lips were on yours. Soft at first, testing, teasing—then something broke.

Satoru exhaled sharply, his hand sliding into your hair, tilting your face to deepen the kiss. His mouth was warm, insistent, tasting of want and something older, something inevitable. You gasped against him, and he groaned, fingers tightening like he was afraid you’d slip away.

But you weren’t going anywhere. Not now. 

Not when he kissed you like this.

Not when you finally felt wanted.

YOU COULD ONLY MAKE IT TO THE HOTEL A COUPLE BLOCKS AWAY. It happened too fast. One moment, you were standing there, breathless, teetering on the edge of something dangerous. The next, your mouth collided with his. No thought. No hesitation. Just pure, burning, reckless agony. And fuck. Satoru didn’t stop you. He grabbed you.

Fingers twisting in your hair, an arm locking tight around your waist—hauling you against him like he’d been waiting, aching, starving for you to break all night. And god. You shattered. You melted into him, your lips frantic, your hands trembling, your body screaming for something you hadn’t felt in years.

Because fuck, as much as you didn’t want his touch anymore, you wanted to be touched. You wanted to feel wanted. And for so long, Kento hadn’t touched you like this in so long. And it killed you. It killed you that it was Satoru making you feel this way.

But god.  You couldn’t stop. And you didn’t want to stop. 

His mouth was devouring yours. It was hard, fast, desperate. Like he was trying to drown himself in you. You let him do it in any way he wanted, in any way he saw fit. You let him consume you, ruin you, unmake you.

His massive hand slid down your back, fingers digging into your hip, grinding you against him like he couldn’t get enough, like nothing in the world could ever be enough. And fuck. It felt so wrong. It felt so good.

“Fuck, fuck….” you gasped against his mouth, nails biting into his shoulders. “We— we can’t—”

“I don’t care, darling.” Satoru growled, his lips crashing against yours again. “I don’t fucking care.”

You knew he broke you then. 

And fuck, you let him.

You kissed him harder, fingers twisting in his shirt, yanking him closer until there was nothing between you but heat and desperation. Because you needed this. You needed to feel something. You needed to feel something sharp, something real, something that burned away the ache you had been carrying for years.

Gojo Satoru was destroying you in the way you needed. He bit your lip, sucked your tongue, groaned against your mouth like he was coming undone. Like you were undoing him. It made you dizzy. It made you feel happy to be reckless.

Because fuck, Nanami Kento hadn’t touched you like this in so long, hadn’t made you feel like you were something worth breaking for. But Satoru was willing to ruin and undo you. And you let him. You let him take you. Let him grab you, manhandle you, drag you through the dim-lit bar like he had already decided you were his and he wasn’t letting go.

The cold wall met your back, shocking against the heat of his body pressing into yours, caging you in. His hands were rough and desperate and starving. They slowly slid over your waist, your hips, gripping, claiming. Like you were something he couldn’t survive without. Like he had waited for this. For you.

"Tell me to stop, darling." Satoru's voice was a raspy whisper, his breath hot against your ear.

His forehead pressed urgently against yours, his bright blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity against your own. You couldn't bring yourself to utter those words back at him.You didn't want him to stop. Not now. Not ever.

"Please." You breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Don't stop."

Those two whispered words were all the encouragement Gojo Satoru needed. He snapped, his control shattering like fragile glass. His mouth descended upon yours in a brutal, desperate kiss, his lips moving with a hunger that stole your breath away. 

His hands were everywhere, touching, claiming, possessing. They gripped your hips, your waist, your thighs, as if trying to memorize every curve of your body. Satoru's fingers tangled in your hair, tugging sharply as he angled your head to deepen the kiss.

Satoru's hands slid up your welcoming thighs, his every touch burning through the fabric of your dress. He gripped your waist firmly, his long fingers digging into your flesh as he yanked your hips into his. And then you felt it. The hard, throbbing evidence of his desire pressed against you, as if he was on the verge of losing all control.

"Fuck, fuck…." he growled, his teeth sinking into your neck. "I knew you'd feel like this—"

"Satoru!" you gasped, your head slamming against the wall as your entire body shook. He was everywhere, his touch overwhelming, his presence consuming.

"I don't care, darling." he rasped, his mouth trailing down your throat."I don’t care if it's wrong. I don't care if you're married to that bastard. I don’t care if people catch us. I don't fucking care. Please, please, please. Please let me have you. Please let me love you." 

You swallowed hard, your entire body trembling and shaking under the weight of his words, his touch, his need. His breath fanned hot against your exhilarated skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. Waiting, anticipating. Then, barely a whisper, but enough to shatter everything. 

"Yes." you breathed. “Yes, yes, yes. Take me, Satoru. Please.”

Satoru felt himself frozen at your words. His fingers twitched against your waist, his tender lips hovering just above yours, as if he needed to hear it again, needed to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

"Say it again, darling." he rasped, his voice wrecked, desperate.

"Yes….yes…." you whimpered, your hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer. "Yes, yes—"

That was all it took.

Gojo Satoru snapped.

A ragged curse tore from his throat as his mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your words, your hesitation, your everything. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you against the wall, his body pressing flush to yours, unrelenting.

"I knew it." he growled between frantic, feverish kisses. "I knew you wanted me."

And you did. God, you did. Nothing else mattered. Not the world outside, not the ring on your finger, not the promises made to another. Because right now, you were his. And he was going to ruin you for anyone else. 

Satoru was devouring you, his mouth hot and hungry on your skin. His hand slid up your dress, his fingers trailing dangerously close to where you were aching for him. And you were already soaking wet, your body betraying you, begging for his touch. 

Satoru groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck, darling." he rasped, his voice strained with need."I need you."

His fingers found your center, slipping easily into your wet heat. You gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. Satoru's thumb circled your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "So fucking wet." he murmured, his breath hot against your ear." So fucking good, aren’t you?”

You knew you shouldn’t. You knew you had a husband out there somewhere, wasting his life. You knew you had two kids somewhere in this city. You knew this was wrong. It had been twenty five years. Twenty five years of neglect. Twenty five years of loneliness. Twenty five years of loving someone who made you miserable.

Yet, it all seemed to fade away under the warm touches Satoru was gifting you tenderly. He was the only thing that mattered at this moment. His hands, his mouth, his body — they were the only reality you cared about right now.

His fingers moved inside you, stroking and curling, hitting spots that made your vision blur. Satoru's thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing firm circles that had your legs shaking. You let out a mewl as you tried to keep up with him. 

"So fucking good, aren't you, precious girl?" he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. 

Satoru's fingers pumped faster, his thumb pressing harder, pushing you closer to the edge. "Come for me, pretty." he commanded, his voice rough with desire."Show me how good I make you feel."

Your body responded instinctively, your hips grinding against Satoru's hand as he brought you closer and closer to the brink. His fingers curled inside you, stroking that spot that made your toes curl, while his thumb circled your clit with expert precision.

"Come on, pretty." he urged, his breath hot against your ear. "Let it all go.I want to feel you fall apart in my arms."

And with a final, devastating thrust of his fingers, you did.Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure consumed you. You cried out, Satoru's name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He held you through it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his fingers buried deep inside you as he rode out your climax. When the waves finally subsided, you slumped against him, boneless and trembling. Satoru pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch surprisingly tender.

"That's it, pretty girl." Satoru murmured, his voice soft and soothing. He withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction as he tasted you. 

"Delicious, aren’t you?" he said, a smirk playing on his lips.He lifted you easily, carrying you to the nearby couch and laying you down gently. Satoru knelt between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your dress up to your waist. 

“You’re so….” You whimper at him, feeling the ecstasy of the pandemonium called pleasure. You look at him, your wet core getting wetter still. “I want more. Satoru, please. Give me more.”

"Don’t worry. I'm not done with you yet, darling." he said, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly. "I'm going to make you come apart again and again, until you can't remember your own name."

He leaned down, his breath hot against your core."Until the only name you know is mine."

“Then make me feel good.” You whisper to him. “Make me feel it hard and good.”

He smiled at you, pressing a tender kiss at your wet core before scooping you up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with a predatory grace. He laid you down on the bed gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he crawled over you. 

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up to your waist. Satoru's fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly. He tossed them aside carelessly, his gaze fixed on your exposed center.

Satoru leaned down, his breath hot against your core."I've had years of wanting for this, darling of mine. Like you." he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “I’ll make it feel good.”

And then his mouth was on you, his tongue parting your folds and delving deep. Gojo Satoru licked and sucked, his mouth moving with a hunger that stole your breath away. He found your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue before sucking it between his lips.

Satoru's tongue flicked and circled your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He sucked gently, then harder, alternating between the two until you were writhing beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted on you. 

Satoru's tongue dipped lower, thrusting into your entrance and fucking you with a relentless rhythm.Your hands flew to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as you held him against you. Satoru groaned, the vibrations adding to the intense sensations coursing through you.

He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your core. "You taste even better than I imagined." he murmured, his voice strained with desire. 

Without warning, he buried his face between your legs again, his mouth moving with a renewed fervor. You felt Satoru's tongue plunged into you, curling and stroking, hitting spots that made your eyes roll back. You throw your head back hard, mewling like a little kitten.

"Oh god, Satoru!" you cried out, your hips bucking against his face. His tongue was relentless, plunging into you and curling in a way that made your toes curl. Satoru's hands gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer as he devoured you.

"Fuck, you're so wet." he murmured against your core, his voice muffled."I can't get enough of you." 

He sucked your clit between his lips, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging sharply as the pleasure built inside you. "I'm going to come." you gasped, your body tensing. 

Satoru looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Come for me, pretty." he commanded, his voice rough. "Come all over my face." 

And with a final thrust of his tongue, he sent you spiraling over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure consumed you. Satoru's tongue continued its relentless assault, drawing out your climax until you were a trembling, boneless mess. 

He drank in every drop of your release, his groans of satisfaction vibrating against your core. As the waves of pleasure finally subsided, Satoru kissed his way up your body, his lips trailing over your stomach, between your breasts, until he reached your mouth. 

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue."You're mine now, aren’t you?" he murmured against your lips, his voice possessive."I'm never letting you go. Never.”

As you slowly came down from your high, Gojo Satoru's words echoed in your mind. You were his now, and he was never letting you go. The realization sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. Satoru's hands roamed your body, his touch gentle yet possessive. 

He kissed your bruising lips ever so deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. When he pulled back, his bright eyes searched for yours, filled with a fierce intensity.

"Tell me what you need, my darling. My pretty darling." he said, his voice low and commanding."Tell me how you want me."

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing. But the desire burning in Satoru's eyes, his burning desire for you, was everything that was poisoning logic in your mind. You shudder with pleasure at the way his body pressed against yours, the memories of his touch. All of it all pushed you over the edge.

"I need you inside me, Satoru." you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Need you to fill me whole, make me forget everything but you. Please, please. I need you to make me feel good.”

Satoru's bright blue gaze immediately darkened with desire at your words. He  captured your lips in a searing kiss once again, bruising them over and over with his affection, with his desire until he reached your jaw and then your neck. 

You feel his hands gripping your hips possessively. He moves to see your face once again. You looked at him as much as he looked at you. Like you were the only people that mattered in the world. That this was the only thing worth keeping in this world. Like this was the purest union made by the heavens above.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name, pretty. Like you want me to." he growled against your jaw. He reached between your bodies, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants with hurried movements. Soon, Satoru freed his erection from every article of clothing. 

You could see the hard length pressing against your thigh. You could see how hard it was, how eager it was to desire you, to want you. To meet you closer. You purse your lips as you try to move as much as you could, trying to get Satoru closer to you.  

He smiled slyly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip teasing your wet folds. "Look at me, pretty." he commanded, his voice rough with need. 

You do as he pleases and meet his gaze, your breath hitching as you feel him slowly push inside you. Satoru's eyes never left yours as he filled you inch by inch, his thickness stretching you deliciously little by little. When he was fully seated, he paused, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck, you're so tight, my precious darling." he groaned, his forehead resting against yours.

"You’re so good already. So loving of me. So eager to let me build a home in you.”

Satoru began to move, his hips pulling back slowly before thrusting forward again. He set a steady rhythm, each stroke hitting deep inside you and sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him as he drove into you. 

Everything about desiring someone was brutal. You could only let yourself scream and cry as he pushed deliciously in and out of you, like it was a game of push and pull. Sweat permeating through your skin, blending over and over like it was a battle between the two of you and the bed and the sheets. 

Your nails digging all too well at the small of his back, letting them dig and dig until you were sure you were drawing blood. His mouth opened widely as it moved towards  your neck, placing a sea of kisses in tune with his thrusts, before biting you, marking you. Almost as if a hunter to its prey. 

The room is filled with the sounds of your bodies coming together, your moans and Satoru's grunts and groans, and cries and tears. The sloppy sounds of the body getting louder and louder with every heightening of that cacophony of desire that only fools would have, fools who could find themselves caged in the wanton desire to love and to be loved.

It was better than what Gojo Satoru had imagined all his life. It was more than he could ask for. It was more than he could have hoped for. Your passion, your darkness, your affection, your body and soul and even your heart. It was all there for him to hold, to keep, to have. Because you had given it so freely. You had given it to him to keep safe and hold dear. 

You have been waiting for so long for someone who could keep your heart steady with the right tenderness, the right intentions, the right sense of love. And he knows it's too soon and he knows you haven’t said it yet. But you trust him enough to hold it, even if it was just for now. And he will do what he can to do it all. 

Because he believes in love.

He believes in being in love.

And he believes in loving you.

"You feel so fucking good, my precious baby." he panted, his breath hot against your ear. "I've dreamed of this for so long." 

He angled his hips, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Satoru's mouth found yours, swallowing your cries as he pounded into you with increasing urgency. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"Come for me again, pretty." he demanded, his voice strained with his own impending release. “Let go for me like the good girl you are.”

Satoru's fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles that pushed you closer to the edge.His thrusts became faster, harder, his hips slamming against yours with a force that shook the bed. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you.

"That's it, pretty baby." Satoru urged, his voice low and gravelly. "Come all over my cock. Milk me dry."

His words, combined with the relentless assault on your senses, sent you crashing over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Satoru's movements became erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came, his release hot and thick as it filled you. He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm.

The room was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and sex clinging to the air like an unshakable truth. Satoru's weight pressed against you, his breath hot and uneven against your shoulder, his body still trembling in the aftermath.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

Neither of you spoke.

Then, reality crept in.

You felt the damp sheets beneath you, the way your legs still shook, the lingering pulse of pleasure thrumming through your veins. But more than that, you felt the weight of what you'd just done pressing down on your chest, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.

Satoru shifted, pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. "God, you’re perfect, aren’t you?" he murmured, voice still husky, still lost in you. "I should’ve never let you go."

Your fingers twitched as they rested against his back, your mind screaming at you to move, to say something, to do anything other than just lie there, tangled in sheets that weren’t yours, with a man who wasn’t your husband.

"Satoru..." Your voice was barely a whisper, but he caught it. He always did.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his usual cocky grin absent, replaced by something raw, something real. "Don’t." he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Don’t say you regret it. Not yet."

“I don’t.” You whispered to him, your tone a bit sore. 

“Okay.” He breathed.

“Okay.” You say, letting your eyes settle on his.

The weight of guilt never came and you didn’t expect yourself to feel it. The silence between you was thick, stretching out like the space between lightning and thunder. The kind that comes before a storm.

Satoru's arms were still wrapped around you, his breath warm against your skin, his grip possessive. Like he was afraid to let go. There was no ring on your finger anymore. No tether to a life that felt like a lie. Just this silence, just his peace, just you and him.

"You’re thinking again." he murmured, lips grazing your temple, voice hoarse from exhaustion. “Too loudly too.”

You exhaled slowly. “Shouldn’t I?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no amusement in it. Just something raw, something unsteady. “You always do.” he muttered. “Even when you don’t have to.”

You hesitated, your fingers twitching against his skin. “Satoru…”

“Stay.”

The word was barely above a whisper, but it felt heavier than anything he’d ever said before. Your heart slammed against your ribs. His grip on you tightened, his fingers pressing into your bare waist, his lips ghosting over your jaw. 

“Stay with me here. Even for a little while.” he murmured again, softer this time, like a prayer. “No more running. No more pretending.”

You swallowed hard. You should’ve hesitated. 

You should've thought about it. But you didn’t. 

“Okay.” you breathed in response to him.

Satoru stills as he looks at you and then smiles. His grip loosened for half a second. Like he couldn’t believe you’d actually said it. But then he was pulling you closer, his lips crashing into yours, his entire body trembling with something unspoken.

There was no more speaking after that.

Instead the world woke up and met the sun.

And both of you stayed asleep, in each other’s arms.

YOU HAD NO REGRETS WHEN YOU SAID WHAT YOU SAID. Kento didn’t even realize he was screaming. Didn’t realize his hands had curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. Didn’t realize the therapist had sprung from her chair, eyes wide, uncertain whether to intervene or let the storm run its course.

But he did realize one thing. Your hands were bare. No ring. No symbol of what you had built together. Nothing. You said that you left it in some bar in Bunkyō because you couldn’t bear the sight of it on your hand.

“Who the fuck was it?” His voice was rough, cracking at the edges. “I asked you, who the fuck was it?”

You didn’t answer, looking at him with a serene look. Perhaps it’s what’s making him even angrier. Just as much as over the years of you knowing that he had cheated and never saying a word and when you did, saying you could care less.

His jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

Silence once more blisters him.

And then Kento completely lost his mind.

“Was it Toji?” he spat, desperate for a name, a face, something tangible he could blame, something he could destroy. “Was it one of my co-stars? Some fucking fan? His manager? Who the fuck was it?”

You laughed at his words, as though they were the most ridiculous things you’ve ever heard. But there was nothing warm about it. It was empty. Hollow. Like something that had decayed a long time ago.

“It doesn’t matter, Kento.”

“The fuck it doesn’t.” he snarled. His breath came fast, shoulders tight, entire body brimming with fury. His world was splitting apart, cracking open like a wound, bleeding something ugly and raw. “You cheated on me, and you think it doesn’t matter?”

Another laugh. This one is even colder. “Did it matter when you did it?”

Kento froze. “Don’t you—”

You tilted your head, eyes sharp, waiting for him to lie. 

But he didn’t, he knew he couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t do it.

He was a worse monster than you, a far worse beast than you.

He can never come here and say that you were the bad one.

“Did it matter when you spent years fucking women who weren’t me?” Your voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of something deadly. “Did it matter when you looked me in the eye every night and still went to set and fucked someone else? Did it matter, Kento?”

His lips parted, the start of a denial forming on his face. “Don’t turn this on me—”

“It was always on you.” The words cut through the air like a blade. Kento flinched. “Toji’s wife wouldn’t cheat with you if she wasn’t so miserable being cheated on by Toji. I wouldn’t have looked fucking elsewhere, if I didn’t suffer twenty–fucking–five years of misery because of you!”

“Years, Kento. Years.” Your voice was shaking now, but not from grief. From something blistering. Something that had been burning inside you for too long.

"I did what I could to make everything work." Kento argues back, looking at you with a shattered look. "I worked and worked and lived with your hatred and your resentment—"

“But you cheated first. You cheated for years. And I sat there. I sat there and I waited for you to love me again. I cried myself to sleep, I tore myself apart, I bled myself dry trying to be someone you wanted.”

He inhaled sharply, but you weren’t finished. “You didn’t care. You never fucking cared. You just kept cheating. You just kept hating me. And I let it happen. Because I loved you.”

Silence. The therapist was motionless, her presence insignificant in the wreckage between you. Kento’s breath was unsteady. His hands trembled at his sides. You just looked at him. And for the first time, he saw it. Not anger. Not pain. Nothing.

The part of you that had once belonged to him was gone. And the worst part of it wasn’t because of what you had done. It was because of what he had done first. And he knew he had no excuse. He had no excuse to be angry, or to be jealous, or to feel wronged when he did worse than you  ever could.

Nanami Kento’s face was crumpling. Tears streamed down his face, unchecked, his body shaking under the weight of something unbearable. Regret. Shame. Pain. It was crushing him, hollowing him out from the inside, but you didn’t care. Not anymore.

“I loved you, Kento. I still do, some part of me still does. And I don't think that will go away. You were my first in everything, father of my children, I acknowledge that. ” you screamed, voice splitting, raw and wrecked. “But then, I loved you more than life itself. I gave you everything. And you threw me away like I was nothing. And I am exhausted of living like I can deal with it.”

Your breath hitched violently, hands trembling as the words ripped free from your throat, words that had been festering for years, rotting inside you like something diseased. You tried to get yourself in control.

“You made me hate myself.” Your voice cracked, and Kento’s body jerked like you had struck him. “You made me hate being a mother. You made me despise my own existence. And I still stayed. Because I thought…” your voice shattered, ragged and broken. “I thought you’d come back to me.”

Nanami Kento’s face collapsed, his breath stuttering as if your words had reached inside his chest and torn something vital from him. His lips parted, but no sound came, just a shuddering breath, just pain.

“I never stopped loving you.” he croaked, but his voice was so weak. So desperate.

You laughed. But it wasn’t humorous at all. There was nothing joyous about the laughter that comes from a broken soul. Instead, it was agony, twisted and sharp, curling around your ribs and bleeding out into the air between you.

“Yes, you did.” The words came like a death sentence, final and absolute. “Because you couldn’t do anything but hate me. Because I caged you in a life that made you just as miserable.”

Kento couldn’t help but flinch, and you felt it. You felt the way your words carved into him, felt the way his entire body recoiled, as if only now he was beginning to understand the damage he had done.

“You looked at me like I was nothing. Like I was some chore you had to come home to. Like I was a burden. Like I was the reason you were miserable.” Your breath caught, but you pushed through, letting the poison spill, letting the truth burn through the air between you. 

“You hated me, Kento. And I felt it. I felt it every single day. I felt it when you wouldn’t touch me. I felt it when you came home smelling like someone else. I felt it when you rolled over in bed and pretended I didn’t exist.”

Kento let out a ragged breath, but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t argue. Couldn’t deny a single thing. Because it was all true. He had done this. And now, he was paying for it. He has to pay for it. That’s the only way he could ever make it all better.

“Baby, please—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice was sharp, final, cutting through him like a blade. Kento froze. Because fuck. You meant it. You weren’t his baby anymore. Because you had decided it yourself. You can’t continue being miserable. Not when Satoru had shown you what joy could ever look like.

“…I didn’t mean to hurt you.” he rasped, voice wrecked, broken beyond repair. “I didn’t mean—”

“But you did.” you cut in, your voice rising, trembling with the sheer force of it. “You did, Kento.”

He looked so small. So fragile.

But you didn’t stop at that.

Your anguish had been waiting for this.

“You killed me.” Your breath caught, your whole body trembling as the rage inside you cracked open. “And you just.....” A sob tore from your throat, your entire form crumpling. “You just watched it happen.”

Kento sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head, but you weren’t finished. You don’t think you ever will be. You fix your composure once again, trying to ensure that you would not go off and break down in front of him.

“You watched me rot away. You watched me turn into nothing. And you didn’t stop. You just kept cheating. You just kept killing me. And I let it happen because I thought......” your voice cracked painfully. “I thought if I could just hold on, you’d love me again.”

Kento opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“But you never did.” Your voice was barely above a whisper now, drained, defeated. “You never fucking did.”

Nanami Kento was sobbing. His entire body wracked with shudders, face buried in his hands like he could hide from the truth, like he could make it go away. He could never make any of this go away.

“I did love you—”

“You stopped loving me when you couldn’t have a wife and a mother for your children.” You whispered to him. “You stopped loving me when I couldn’t be the woman you thought I could be. We both knew that.”

The words were sharp, merciless. You were gone. Your voice was wrecked. Your body crumpled. Your face drenched in tears.

“I died, Kento.” you whispered, the words so quiet, yet they carried the weight of a decade’s worth of pain. “I died a thousand times. Every time you fucked someone else. Every time you looked at me like I was nothing. Every time you come home smelling like another woman. I died. And you didn’t care. You just let me rot.”

Kento’s whole body was trembling now, his hands in his hair, his face contorted with something close to agony.

“And now?” You laughed. And god, it was empty. “…Now you know how it feels.”

Kento collapsed. His whole body sank into his chair, breaking apart, sobbing like he was dying, like the weight of everything he had done was finally crushing him. And you didn’t even flinch. Because you were already dead, and now he wasn’t the one bringing you back to life. It was Satoru.

“…Who was it?” he choked, barely able to get the words out.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t, Kento.” Your voice was hollow. Shattered. Like there was nothing left inside you to give. “Because I’m not sorry.”

Kento screamed. Like he was burning alive. Like he was finally feeling the agony he had inflicted on you for over a decade. The therapist could only watch as you gathered your belongings and looked at your pathetic husband.

Kento Nanami finally knew how it felt.

And it was killing him over and over.

And perhaps that was your greatest revenge.

IT FELT SO DIFFERENT NOW THAT ALL OF THAT WAS OUT. Perhaps that’s why the drive home was silent. Yet it was not the peaceful kind. It was the suffocating kind, taking you over.

The kind that coiled around your throat and pressed into your chest, heavy and unbearable. And it will never be the same again. That was what the future held now. Nothing but misery for both of you.

Kento’s knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, his grip so tight it looked like he might snap it in half. His jaw was clenched, his breathing uneven, but he said nothing. You sat beside him, motionless, hands limp in your lap. 

There was nothing left to say. And if there was, you were too exhausted to even allow yourself to say anything. You can tell Kento was just the same. Perhaps that’s why you were sure there could be nothing that could ever be discussed like that again between you and Kento. 

Nothing would change the way you both had suffered in each other’s arms. And just as much, nothing that hasn't already been ripped out of you in that sterile therapy room, nothing that wouldn’t just reopen wounds that had long since festered. You would just be miserable.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the house loomed in front of you. It was ever so silent, sickeningly empty. In this so-called home. Or at least, it used to be. Nothing of it was left to even be considered a home.

The weight of it settled between you as Kento stepped inside first, lingering just past the threshold like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to cross it anymore. His shoulders were rigid, his chest rising and falling in slow, shaky breaths.

He didn’t look at you when he finally spoke. “…We should talk about the divorce.”

His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

You laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was pathetic.

“Like the therapist said?” you scoffed, your voice cold, edged with something bitter and exhausted.

Kento swallowed hard. His throat bobbed once, twice—like he was trying to force the words down. “…Yeah.”

Silence.

He still wouldn’t look at you. And when you finally met his gaze, you almost wished you hadn’t. He looked sick. He looked like he couldn’t talk about it without having to deal with the misery of it all again.

Your husband’s face was pale, drawn tight with something that looked dangerously close to grief. His eyes were sunken, rimmed with exhaustion, his entire body stiff like he was holding himself together through sheer force of will.

“…Do you want one?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Kento’s breath hitched. His face twisted—like the question had physically hurt him. “…I don’t know,” he admitted, voice breaking.

Silence all over again. It stretched between you, hollow and endless. Kento exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers into his temples before dragging his hands down his face. He looked like a man unraveling.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, [name].” he said finally, voice wrecked. “I don’t want to trap you here. I don’t want to be the reason you hate your life.”

His breath wavered, thick with something desperate. “So if you…” He swallowed hard, looking at you now—really looking at you. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

“Kento—”

His voice cracked. “I swear to god, I won’t stop you.”

Your throat locked up. “…But do you want me to leave?”

Kento’s face was completely crumpled. His entire body folded in on itself, his breath stuttering, his eyes filling so fast it looked like the weight of the world had just crashed into him. He looks at you, the shell of the man he used to be.

“No.” he sobbed, his voice wrecked. “No, I don’t.”

There it was.There it fucking was. The ugly truth. The selfish desperation. Kento didn’t want you to leave. Even after everything. Even after the cheating. Even after all the ruin. He still wanted you. Even if you would both be miserable.

“…Then why are you saying this?”

Kento swallowed thickly, his hands trembling at his sides. “Because you hate me, [name].” he choked, his face completely destroyed. “I can’t keep making you miserable. I can’t keep being the reason you…” His voice cracked. “…You  keep being miserable and despise yourself.”

He exhaled sharply, a ragged, broken sound. “So if leaving me will make you happy again, then please. Please do it. Just….” His voice broke. “Just don’t stay here if it’s killing you.”

You just stared at him. The man who had spent years tearing you apart. The man who had crushed you into dust and expected you to survive it. The man who, even now, was finally ready to lose you just so you wouldn’t suffer anymore.

“…And what about you?”

Kento’s throat collapsed. “What?”

“What if I leave?” you croaked, your voice so small, so fragile. “What happens to you, Kento?”

Silence bellows the world all of the sudden.

Kento’s face completely crumbled. “…Then I die alone.” he finally admitted, his voice shattering. “I will never remarry. I will….I will continue with the misery of my own creation.”

You froze. “.....You don’t have to.”

“I deserve that.” Kento sobbed, his body wrecked. “I deserve to die alone. I deserve to rot in this house without you. I deserve to feel everything I put you through. So if you…” His voice cracked painfully. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I swear to god, I won’t stop you.”

You couldn’t even breathe. You could see it. Kento’s despair, one he had made for himself. The way his body crumpled. The way his chest caved in. The way he was already mourning you, like he knew you were already gone. And it should’ve felt vindicating. It should’ve felt like justice. And yet, it just felt sickening.

“…I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” you finally croaked, your voice wrecked.

And Kento completely broke. “…I know.” he sobbed, his entire body collapsing.

Silence. Unforgiving. Endless.

“…I still love you.” Kento’s face obliterated.

“…I know.”

More silence in the utter destruction of twenty-five years.

“…Do you still love me?” you finally whispered.

Kento let out the most painful sound you’d ever heard. “…Yes,” he sobbed, his voice completely wrecked. “Yes, I do. I never stopped. I just—” 

His voice shattered. “I just didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to love you right. And I killed you. I destroyed you. And I don’t….” His voice broke apart, sharp and desperate. “I don’t deserve you anymore. Not like I used to.”

You couldn’t take it. You just turned and walked toward the bedroom. Because god, you couldn’t look at him. Not like this. Not when he was falling apart at the seams. Not when his face was wrecked with something so raw, so painful, that it made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to face.

“…Where are you going?” Kento choked.

“To bed.” you rasped. “.....I’m exhausted.”

Silence was the commonality you both have more than any sort of love now. You went ahead and changed out of your clothes. Soon enough, Kento just followed, still dressed in his clothes. He didn’t say a word as he changed into something else. 

He stands there for a moment, unsure. When he did move, his footsteps were hesitant, barely there, like he was afraid to take up too much space. Afraid to breathe wrong. Afraid to do something, anything that would send you running out that door for good.

And when you climbed into bed, still completely distant, like you were already halfway gone, Nanami Kento stood there for only a second, hovering at the edge of the mattress like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to stay.

Then, slowly, hesitantly… he slid in beside you. It was so pathetic. The way his hand shook when he reached out to touch your waist. The way his face completely crumpled when you didn’t respond. The way his body broke apart when you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, like he wasn’t even there.

“…I’m sorry.” he croaked.

You didn’t answer.

“…I’m so fucking sorry.”

And still, you didn’t answer.

So Kento just continued to curl into your side. And you do not stop him. You do not stop him from trying to gain some warmth from your body, as though it was the last time. Like he was dying. Like he was trying to cling to your ghost.

He then starts sobbing. Not the quiet kind. The soul-shattering kind. Just gripping you, holding onto you like you’d disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second. It was as though someone had gone and died.

“Please don’t leave me.” he choked, his entire body trembling, caving in, coming undone. “Please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything. I’ll do anything, baby, please. Just don’t leave me.”

You just stared at the ceiling. Completely empty from the thought. You were exhausted from loving him. Perhaps that is you were so certain of the truths you had long believed. You had long walked past that door and left.

Even if you still love him, you knew you couldn’t be with him like this. 

Not ever again. You deserve better than that. 

You deserve someone like Satoru.

"I THINK PEOPLE LIKE US IN MARRIAGES, especially ones like ours, were always meant to be indestructible. At least that’s what people want to think of it as." You said almost nonchalantly, a faint smile drawing on your face.

"People have had expectations about your story to be perfect, no?" The interviewerer leads, looking at you with intrigued eyes. "That was what was expected out of a marriage with someone living in fame."

You nodded, leaning forward to be more comfortable in your chair. " Correct. That's what people wanted. A grand love story, perfectly composed, enduring through all things. But love isn’t like that, is it? It’s not a script you can follow forever. It changes, it falters. And sometimes, it fades."

You sit back in the chair, hands folded in your lap. The interviewer watches you carefully, waiting for you to go on. You glance away for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before your voice softens.

"We started out well. He was... everything people assume he is. Steady. Thoughtful. Reliable. And in the beginning, that felt like safety. Like something I could hold onto. But over time, that steadiness began to feel like distance. Like a fortress I wasn’t allowed into."

“Does this mean you don’t blame him?” The interviewer asks, pen tightening in the hand. “I mean, I know you have not revealed everything and anything, Mrs. Nanami. But you don’t blame him for everything?”

"I didn’t blame him for anything until the cheating. I think that’s quite interesting, isn’t it?” You say in a soft whisper. “In some ways, I think there is no great villain in the story, no explosive fight that shattered everything at once.  Even with my sufferings in the marriage. Just a slow unraveling, with every message of sorry women. It’s intriguing and heartbreaking all at once.”

“You got messages from all the women?” The interviewer’s brow furrows. 

You smiled somberly. “One after the other. But not everyone. Some were not sorry. And I don’t blame them. But I’m grateful for that. They gave me a gradual realization that we were living beside each other, rather than with each other. Like we were both carrying the weight of this marriage but never quite meeting in the middle."

The interviewer tilts their head. "Did you feel lonely?"

You exhale, a sad smile tugging at your lips. "Yes. And the worst part is… so did he. I think he knew we hated each other and hated me. I could see it, even if he wouldn’t say it."

"Do you really believe your husband resents you, mam?" The interviewer quizzed you, frankly. "In the truest of senses?"

"Well, there wouldn't be more than three people in a marriage if it wasn't true." You mewled back to them, laughing softly. "The way he stayed out later, the way conversations became shorter. We were both retreating, both trying to pretend we weren’t. But silence is loud in a marriage. And ours was deafening. That made it obvious."

“You’re nicer than most wives, Mrs. Nanami.” The interviewer looks at you, a stunned look echoes. “Such a long time of your life was stolen from you, if this is the case. I mean, to stay silent about it for so long. It is a pandemonium of misery.” 

There’s a pause, the kind that hangs heavy in the air. “Hm. But that's only 'cause I've escaped it now. I have no more anger in my heart because I’ve released it all. My life isn’t over, well....at least I hope it still isn’t. Of course, I do not know where to begin. But I’m sure I’ll find everything little by little.”

The interviewer hesitates before asking, "Yet you’re still together?"

"For now. But sometimes, staying feels like waiting for something to break. And I think we both know… it already has." Your empty fingers trace the edge of where your wedding band was at one point. “That’s just what marriage is sometimes.”

"Twenty-five years is a long time, isn’t it? It sounds impressive when you say it out loud. A quarter of a century. Enough time to build a life, raise a family, grow old together. But do you know what twenty-five years is? It's quite a long time to be lonely."

You pause, fingers grazing the armrest of your chair, as if searching for something to anchor yourself to. The interviewer doesn’t interrupt. They wait, giving you space to find the words. Because how does one describe such a quarter of a human life?

"At first, I thought marriage was about endurance. That if you stayed, if you worked hard enough, if you were patient enough, everything would eventually be alright. I told myself that love was about sacrifice. About quiet suffering. And so I endured. All of it."

"I endured the nights spent waiting up, pretending not to hear the whispers that followed him. I endured the rumors, the looks of pity from people who knew before I did.” Your voice drops to something softer, something almost fragile. “And when did I find out? I endured that too. Because what else was I supposed to do? Walk away from twenty-five years? From everything we built, from the life we created together?"

You shake your head, almost laughing at the thought. "People think cheating is about passion, about reckless desire. But sometimes, it’s just... boredom. Resentment. Hatred. The slow, creeping realization that the person you married doesn’t make you feel alive anymore. Even if they gave everything in the marriage. And I think that’s what happened to him.”

The interviewer nodded back at you, sighing. “And how does that make you feel, Mrs. Nanami? That this was the case for almost all the years of your marriage and having to pretend that it wasn't? In some ways, you seem to be more veteran actor than most and you played well at it.”

“Somewhere along the way, I can only describe it as me becaming a part of the furniture." You retort, thinking of how to word this thought in your head. "You could say that I was comfortable. Definitely reliable."

"I see. It was like you didn't feel if you were even something beyond something so transparent and invisible."

"Yes, I guess you can say that. I was always there. But like most, he wanted something new. He gets bored." You say after letting yourself think for a while. You smiled. “And I was the stable. I wasn’t exciting for him to enjoy anymore. And he leads a glamorous life. You all know that. That’s what the life of the star is.”

There’s a sharp inhale from the interviewer. "And what did you do about it?"

Your gaze meets theirs, steady despite the weight of your words. "Nothing. I did nothing. I smiled for the cameras. I held his hand at premieres. I played the role of the devoted wife because that’s what was expected of me."

The interviewerer nodded. "Why did you feel like you had to keep playing that role over and over again? You always said the world has no place in your bed. But now that you are speaking on it.....How do you feel about it?"

"That's a good question." You nodded back at the interviewerer. "I think it's more or so because the world doesn’t want to hear that a marriage like ours, the kind that looks perfect on the outside, is built on silence and suffering. They want the illusion. And I gave it to them."

"I told myself it was for the children. For stability. For dignity. But really? It was because I didn’t know who I was without him.” You let out a slow breath, shaking your head. As though you were disappointed in yourself. “When you’ve spent your whole life being somebody’s wife, you start to forget who you were before that. And maybe that was the most miserable part of all. Realizing I had made myself so small just to keep this marriage alive."

The interviewer hesitates before asking, "Do you regret staying?"

Your lips pressed together, as if weighing the question carefully. Finally, you tell them an answer.  "I regret losing myself. I regret thinking that being chosen was the same as being loved. And most of all, I regret believing that staying silent made me strong. Because real strength isn’t in enduring misery, it’s in knowing when to walk away."

"People always say, ‘Why didn’t you leave?’ as if it’s that simple. As if walking away from twenty-five years, from a shared history, from a life built together, is as easy as packing a suitcase and closing the door behind you."

The interviewer continues to jots down what you say. You pause, folding your hands together, the weight of the past pressing down on your shoulders. They do not interrupt you. Thus, you continued.

"But leaving isn’t just a decision. It’s a destruction. It’s tearing apart everything you’ve known, everything you’ve built, and stepping into the unknown. And the unknown is terrifying, isn’t it? So instead, you convince yourself to stay. You tell yourself it’s not that bad. That it could be worse. That you’ll fix it."

"In some ways, it becomes quite the habit doesn't it? If you keep telling yourself this, it becomes something unescapable."

"That's right. That's why you can just go on one day and you wake up realizing that you’ve spent years, decades even living in a marriage that only exists in photographs and press statements. A fiction you created in yourhead. A marriage that is alive to the world, but dead behind closed doors."

The interviewer leans in, their voice careful. "When did you first know it was truly over?"

"I think I knew long before I admitted it to myself.” A humorless smile tugs at your lips. “Maybe it was the first time I caught him lying. Maybe it was the first time I looked at him and felt nothing at all. Or maybe it was the day I stopped waiting for him to come home."

“You must have wanted to have a way out.” 

"There were so many moments I could have left.” You admitted to them. “When I should have left. But I told myself I had a duty to this marriage. To our family. To our children. To the version of myself that once believed in forever."

The interviewer watches you carefully. "And now?"

You lift your head, eyes clearer than they’ve been in years. "Now, I realize that duty shouldn’t come at the cost of your own happiness. That silence isn’t dignity. That staying in a broken marriage doesn’t mean you fought harder—it just means you suffered longer."

"I think, in the end, I stayed because I wanted to believe that love could survive anything.” A pause. “That if I just held on a little longer, if I just endured a little more, we would find our way back to each other. But love shouldn’t be something you have to endure when it doesn’t work out, should it?"

The interviewer shakes their head. “No, not at all.”

"Right." You say softly. "It shouldn’t."

Interview leaned back, looking at you. Almost satisfied. “Then what do you plan to do now, Mrs. Kento?”

"Now, I leave." You smiled at him, a genuine one. “For good.”

The words land like a final act, like the closing of a book that the world thought would go on forever. But fairy tales always end, don’t they? Some with love, some with loss. And some like yours, with the quiet realization that the dream was never really yours to begin with.

The interviewer exhales, as if they too have been holding their breath, waiting for this moment. "That’s… final."

"Yes, of course." you say, nodding. "There is no going back."

"Does he know?"

"Oh, he knows. Maybe not in the way you’d expect.” You smile, slow and knowing. “There was no screaming, no dramatic confrontation. No shattered glass or slamming doors. We already finished that at therapy…..there was just silence when I moved out. That same silence that’s been lingering between us for years. And in that silence, he knew. We both did."

The interviewer studies you carefully, as if trying to place the expression on your face. "You don’t look angry anymore, I suppose. More joyous."

"Because I am." You laughed at the interviewer’s words. “I am happy about leaving. So, why feel hatred and anger again?”

"Not even after everything?"

You let out a soft breath, tilting your head. "Anger would mean I still care about what I spent twenty–five years suffering. That I still have something left to give to the marriage. But I don’t. Not anymore."

The weight of those words settles between you. The interviewer shifts slightly in their chair, adjusting their posture, as if bracing for what comes next. The interviewer is silent for a long moment. 

"What do you want now?" They asked you softly.

You smile, and this time, it’s real. The first real smile in a long time. "I want peace. I want mornings that aren’t heavy with unspoken words. I want a life that is mine, not just an extension of his. I want to wake up and not feel like I’m drowning in a marriage that’s already ended."

A pause. Then, a quiet, knowing laugh. "And I want a holiday. A long one. With a good whiskey on hand, of course."

The interviewer chuckles, but you see the way their expression softens. "Do you think you’ll find love again?"

"I think… I want to find myself first. I’ve spent twenty-five years being someone’s wife.” You tilt your head, considering it. Smiling to yourself, thinking about Satoru. “I think it’s time to find out who I am without him. But….It’s not out of the question."

The interviewer notices your smile and finds a twinkle in their eyes. But they do not ask further. They nodded at you. “Well, I hope that it all works out for you, Mrs. Nanami.”

“Thank you.” You shyly smiled at the interviewer. “But can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything, mam.”

“Call me [Last Name] [Name] when you type this all out. You know, for the world to read."

epilogue

Higuruma Hiromi sighed tiredly as he started to type the article that was set to go to print in just a few hours. His fingers moved methodically across the keyboard, the soft clicking, clacking of keys filling the quiet room. 

He inserted a picture into the document. It was a picture of Nanami [Name] and Nanami Kento in some photoshoot they did together. He carefully adjusted the placement before continuing his work. It had to be good or the printing department would kill him.

Just as he was about to refine the wording of the next paragraph, his phone buzzed against the desk. With an exasperated sigh, he reached for it, barely glancing at the caller ID before answering.

“Hello? This is Chief Editor of Tokyo Calling, Higurama.” he muttered, rubbing his temple.

On the other end, Satoru’s voice came through, light and easy, as if he weren’t calling at the worst possible time. “Hiromi–kun! Just wanted to say thanks for your hard work.”

Higuruma shook his head, already annoyed. “What do you want, Gojo?”

Satoru chuckled. “Come on, can’t I just call to express my appreciation?”

“You never call just to appreciate me.” Higuruma deadpanned, leaning back in his chair. “You want to ask about the article.”

“Bingo!” Satoru said cheerfully. “It’s coming out soon, right?”

Higuruma rolled his eyes, shifting his gaze back to the screen. “You already know that. You’re the one who gave me the information.”

Satoru laughed, entirely unbothered. “Still, thanks for your hard work.”

Higuruma exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he hung up. “Whatever.” he muttered, already reaching for his coffee cup as he prepared to get back to work.

Higuruma stood up, stretching his sore shoulders as his gaze drifted across his office. Papers were scattered across his desk. All the printed interviews, transcriptions, and photographs, all laid out in organized chaos. 

Among them were undeniable proofs: Nanami Kento’s alleged infidelity, the person he was with, and even more damning details that hadn’t yet been written into the article.

He walked over to the bulletin board on the wall, where a few key photographs were pinned up. There were quite a few Gojo Satoru seemed to keep tabs on. Nanami Kento in a dimly lit restaurant, seated across from someone who was most definitely not Nanami [Name]. 

Another picture captured a fleeting touch, hands brushing together in a way that seemed far too intimate to be innocent. Below it, neatly typed notes, detailed accounts from anonymous sources, whispers of meetings that shouldn't have happened, moments that had gone unnoticed until now.

Higuruma rubbed his temples, sighing. He wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed digging into people’s personal lives, but a story was a story, and this one was already on its way to publication. It was big. It was scandalous. It would get attention. And Gojo Satoru was happy to provide it for him. 

Well, he did owe him a little bit of help. He can’t do anything about it. It was annoying, to be sure. But the idiot made up for it by making Higurama a lot of money. That made up for the troubles and they were now even.

His phone buzzed again, this time with a message. He picked it up and saw Satoru’s name flashing on the screen.

Satoru: So… Do you think this will hit big?

Higuruma narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the phone. He glanced back at the evidence, then at the half-finished article glowing on his computer screen. This wasn’t just a report. This was a revelation that would change everything.

After getting his cup of coffee, he continues to work on it. Higuruma Hiromi finished the report a little while later as twelve am strikes on the clock, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he reread the final draft. His eyes flicked across the damning headline once more:

Nanami [Name] and Nanami Kento Are Separating!

A breath left him. One he hadn’t realized he was holding. He purses his lips softly and then nods. He was done. It had to get sent away. Carefully, he clicked Send, dispatching the article to the publishing department. There was no turning back now.

Minutes later, he stood by the printing machines, watching as the pages rolled out, each one carrying his words, his investigation, the weight of undeniable proof. The bold letters of the headline practically screamed from the front page, demanding attention.

This wasn’t just another article. 

It was going to cause a stir. 

A public unraveling of a seemingly perfect marriage.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, already expecting Gojo Satoru once more. His breath hitches as he reads the text. His lips pursed into a flat line. Isn't he a fool to love this much? To love to the point of destruction?

Higurama shakes his head and takes a deep breath, calming himself. He shouldn't go into a tangent about this. He did his job. He did his part. And now Satoru and him were even. He shouldn't question things he had no business about.

Satoru: Nice work~ My beloved darling is free, all thanks to you!

Higuruma Hiromi exhaled sharply, tucking his phone away. He had done his job.

Now, the storm was coming.

And no one can stop it now.

[writingroom21]

Auction

Pairing: Hockeyplayer!rafe x bookworm!reader

Summary: When a donation auction gives you the opportunity of your dreams you have to take it. Can't help it when your fantasies come to life.

or

When Rafe finds the girl of his dreams without realizing at a donation auction. Who knew donating a date would lead to dreams coming true.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, cream pie, smut books, let me know if I Missed any.

Wc: 3K

“Cameron, are you even listening?” Coach Benson yells over the chatter in the locker room. Rafe turns his attention to the older man and nods his head. “Yes coach.” The old man narrows his eyes, not believing Rafe for a moment. “Then what did I say?” Rafe looks around and sees the other boys on the team snickering. He finishes up his tie and looks at the coach. “Sleep with the bidder so they want to give more money?” The room erupts with laughter but the older man doesn’t crack.

“Behave yourself, don’t need you spreading anything to anyone.” The room laughs at the coach's joke but Rafe doesn’t. “Be the perfect date and don’t get too smashed. We do not need a repeat of last year.” In the back corner Jeremy let out a groan. “That was one time, let it go.” Coach continues on with his speech that everyone has heard before. He goes over the rules and the order of who’s going up. As captain of the team Rafe is the last one to go up so he is relaxed. 

The rest of the hockey team makes their way to the auditorium in the building next door. He stays back for a little while checking his text. Looking at the time he moves his sticks to the side to shove his clothes in before heading over. The auditorium is full of a bunch of the girls from the college and some heard about it so they are here. He slowly makes his way to the side stage, catching glimpses of the girls sitting waiting for their date. “Up next is Tyler Ritzker! He likes to spend time in the gym working on his muscles. Jesus.” Coach shakes his head. “And showing girls a good time. Can I get twenty bucks!” 

The auction goes on for a little while longer with a break to get some food. Rafe’s about to reach for a pig in a blanket when someone bumps into him. He looks over to see you lowering a book from your face. “Sorry I didn't see you there.” His eyes give you a once over and a small smirk plays on his face. “No worries. Can’t complain when a pretty girl bumps into me.” A small blush forms on your face. You hide the book behind your back and look around for a second. “So are you coming up soon?” You point to the double doors behind you with a sparkle in your eyes.

Rafe takes a small step closer to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Why are you gonna bid for me?” He pulls back to watch you biting your lower lip. He can hear people starting to head back. One of the guys from the team slaps his shoulder grabbing his attention. “You heading in?” Rafe nods and pushes him off. But when he looks back you are gone. Taking a step forward he looks around trying to get a glimpse of you. All he can catch is a book and based by the cover with hockey sticks it seems to be hockey related. He heads behind the stage and queues up at the end of the line.

One by one each guy gets called and bid on. There’s one person on stage and then it’s Rafe’s turn. He watches as the people in the crowd hold up their paddles to get a date with Eric. Finally a girl in the front gets her claws on the poor guy. “Now of the main event and what I assume most of you are here for. Welcome up our team captain Rafe Cameron. Rafe is a top player who likes to dirt bike on the weekends. If you’re into a smartass who will give you a headache you are in for a treat.” Rafe throws an arm around the coach and takes the mic from him. “Thank you coach. I also love the beach and teaching someone very lucky how to surf.” He throws a wink to the crowd and a lot of paddles go up.

Coach takes the mic back and starts the bid. “Can I get fifty bucks?” Practically all of the paddles go up. Rafe’s eyes scan the crowd looking for you but he can’t see anything. “What about two hundred?” Paddles slowly start to windle down as the price keeps getting higher. “Let me see three fifty.” Rafe stands there with his hands in his pockets. Coach keeps listing off numbers and it's down to the last two girls. Neither of them are you. His right foot taps the stage as he’s now getting pissed. Why ask if you weren’t interested? Sucks because you were hot. The way you looked up at him had the front of his pants get a little bit tighter. 

“Seven hundred.”

His eyes shot up to see a new paddle in the air and the two girls that were fighting were debating on what to do. “We got seven hundred. Do I hear seven ten?” Rafe watches with a grin as the other two girls lower their paddles. “Deal for seven hundred. That concludes our auction. Bidders meet your prizes at the front to coordinate your dates. Thank you to all that donated. I believe we have succeeded in our goal of the night.” Rafe doesn’t really hear much after as he casually rushes off the stage to find you. 

When he exits the room he sees you off to the side paying your donation and chatting with the lady. You turn around just to make eye contact with him. He starts to walk over to you with a grin as you stay still. Looking around you head closer to the doors so you aren’t blocking the way. His hand finds your biceps guiding you outside away from everyone. “Well isn’t this a surprise.” You blush, fiddling with the book in your hands to distract yourself. Letting out a chuckle you try to calm your nerves. “I did ask if you were going to be going up.” The two of you start to walk towards the ice rink not really knowing where you are going. 

“Yeah but you weren’t bidding.” You shrug and look at the sky to count the stars. “Didn’t want them to think I was competition.” Looking over at you — you send a smile causing you to wrinkle your nose. “But you are.” It’s not really a question, just a silent statement left in the air. You stop in front of the building holding the ice rinks. Staring at the building you bite your lower lip as you think. “I know what I want to do for our date.” The words are soft as you try to get more confident in the idea. “I want you to teach me how to skate.” He looks back at the doors and then at you.

It was a no brainer. 

He grabs your hand, walking backwards he leads you into the building. “Come on. We get access to the rink after hours.” Your eyes are wide as you look behind you and then around the halls as you pass rooms. “Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?” Rafe keeps walking until he reaches a door and opens it. Inside is a bunch of skates and some equipment. “Even if we do, they won’t do anything. Now find your size.” You roll your eyes as you look at the rows of skates. The light in the room flickers as the yellow glow barely lights the room. You place your book down on a table as you try on a skate to see if it fits. 

Rafe takes a few steps and looks at the cover. ‘Pucking Around’ He chuckles at the name thinking it’s stupid. You put the skate back, having to find a slightly smaller size so he takes the opportunity to look the book up. He pulls out his phone and reads the description. For a moment he has a hard time processing what he just read. There’s no way that you are reading that book. His eyes flicker up to you to see you bent over as you put your shoes back on and grab the skates you will use. His pants get a bit harder at the sight of your ass mix with the thought of that book.

Shit what are you hiding from everyone?

The two of you head over to the rink and sit on the bench to put your skates on. “So why skating?” His eyes look at the book next to you and then at you. Glancing up you give him a confused look. “Huh?” He finishes his laces and then pulls your foot over to lace your skates. “Why is our date me teaching you how to skate? Not complaining or anything, just curious.” Your face flushes. “Oh I want to learn how to skate. Plus I like hockey.” A smirk plays on Rafe’s face as he imagines how much you like the sport.

“Yeah? What ‘s your favorite team?” Your face lights up a bit. “Bruins. Sucks that they traded their captian last minute and fucked up the team even more. Their season was already over before the trade but it was such a bad choice.” You go off a little bit more on the team's states overall. “Imagine my horror when they didn’t even make the playoffs this season. It just feels unnatural.” You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t even realize you were on the ice.

Looking down you almost panic and slip but Rafe catches you. “Keep going. I’m interested in what you think they should have done.” You huff as he skates backwards to help you get the hang of everything. “So many things. First, don't get rid of the captain that everyone loves and makes the team I don’t know. Next not trying to be rude but many of the players suck and they could easily trade them for better players. Why keep people who are not improving.” In time you get the hang of the motion and Rafe lets go of you.

Well only to skate next to you and hold your hand. The two of you go one to talk about different teams and players. “Didn’t take you for a hockey fan.” He nudges you which was a bad idea as he had to stop you from falling. You giggle as you hold onto him to stabilize yourself. “My dad and I watch it all of the time. We go to games from time to time.” Your smile catches Rafe’s attention. He can’t pull his gaze away from it which almost makes the two of you crash into the wall. “Jesus, I thought you were good at this.” You push him lightly. 

He laughs and skates towards you. You squeal as he catches you in his arms and skates around. Lightly you hit his back trying to get him to put you down. “Rafe put me down.” He does a spin and skates backwards with you thrown over his shoulder. “Nope trying to show you how good I am.” You laugh as he lowers you down and grabs your hands to skate with you. “Trust me I never doubted that.” His pants got a bit tighter again. Pulling you in, Rafe cups the side of your face. “How about next, we do something you like.” 

You tilt your head further into his hand with a curious look. “Like?” Rafe stops the two of you in front of the exist where all of your stuff is. He helps you out of the rink, leading you to the bench. “Thinking that we can read this book together.” Your eyes widen when he reaches for it and you try to stop him. Not being fast enough he opened the book up to the page to have a red tab on. Like a slow motion film you watch as his mouth drops open and his eyes practically bulge out of his face. “Holy shit.” You try to grab the book again but he raises it over his head with a tilt so he can still read it.

Subconsciously he reaches for the tent in his, tugging at it to relieve the tension. You groan and hide your face so you don’t have to look at him. “You like this shit?” Turning around you stumble as you try to get away only to be stopped. “Look at me.” Moving your gaze to him you see that his pupils are dilated. “If that was me and you, I wouldn’t hesitate to bend you over that counter either. I’d fuck you until you forgot your name and all you could feel was me.” You moan at the thought and take a step forward. “Yeah?” Your voice rasps out. “What else do you like in this book?”

Without speaking you take the book and open up another red tabbed page. Handing it over to him, you play with the hem of his shirt. “The four of them all fuck in the shower. Something about it is just hot to me. The way they all just want to be with each other.” Rafe’s chest rises and falls with each breath as he continues to read the pages. Lowering the book he looks at you with some sort of look. You hold your breath waiting for what he’s going to do next. “You want to feel that?” You nod your head.

His lips crash onto yours—sucking the air from your lungs. Shit he’s a good kisser. His hands find your waist to pull you in. His fingertips sneak their way under your shirt to graze your skin. Taking a step back he guides you, helping you walk on skates without breaking the kiss. Not being able to take it anymore he slams you against the wall outside of the locker room. His thigh prys its way between your, giving you the perfect place to grind yourself one. His hands roam your body as you find the back of his head to pull on his hair.

Both of you stand there for a moment enjoying each other. His kisses move to your neck and leave light hickies on there. You moan and pull his hair again when he pinches one of your nipples. “Shit Rafe.” Breaking away from you he takes a deep breaths while resting his forehead on yours. He pulls you into the locker room. Stopping you two, take off your skates and you look around. “Never been in the locker room.” He lifts you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. “I’ll show you after.” He kisses you again making you forget about where you are.

Shit this is like a dream come true.

Your back hits cold tile making you arch your back. Your chest pushes against his and you accidentally grind into him. He pulls away for a second. “Take your clothes off.” He lets go of you so you can undress as he does the same. You rush to take your clothes off, handing them to him so he can put them away.When he walks back you take in a good look at him. He’s tall and muscular in a buff way. By the way he’s looking at you, he’s doing the same. When he reaches you, he turns on the water. The steam automatically fills the room. Rafe stares down at you, his thumb playing with your bottom lip.

Taking matters in your own hands, you grab his dick giving it a tug. You spit on the tip before you start to jerk him off. “Did you learn that in your books?” You laugh as he nibbles on your collar bone. “Learned a lot of things. My ex used to love it.” The mention of an ex pisses him off and he picks you up. He positions you so that when he thrust he teases your clit. Each thrust teased the both of you over and over again. Rafe played with your nipples as he kissed every inch of your skin.

“Looks like I’m lucky. Got the perfect little slut all to myself.” You moan and lift your hips trying to catch him with your entrance. You’re dying to feel him. “Rafe, please.” Using his arm around your waist, he lifts you as he positions himself at your entrance. Loud moans echo on the walls as he fills you up with each inch of himself. He is big, stretching you more than you ever have been. His thrusts are hard and fast. You’re pressed against the wall with Rafe’s hand right next to your head. Hise lips are so close to yours that you can taste his breath.

Opening his eyes he looks into yours. Water droplets fall from his hair onto his nose. Fuck he looks so good right now. You moan at just the sight of him, throwing your head back a little too hard. He cradles your head bringing you in to kiss your forehead. “You okay?” You moan in response and nod your head. “Yes. Oh fuck yes!” Rafe’s lips are back on your in an instant biting your lip hard. The waterfalls around the two of you hitting Rafe’s back making it red from the heat. Your nails scrap down his back when your orgasm builds.

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.” 

Your body spasms when you finally cum. Rafe buries his head in your shoulder biting the flesh when he starts to cum. His moans are muffled but you can still hear them. He kisses up your neck when he starts to come down. “Fuck you’re amazing.” You giggle and grab his face so you can kiss him. Slowly he pulls out, placing you on the floor so you two can wash up. Just then the door to the showers opened up. “Jesus Christ Rafe I said no sleeping with the bidders.” Rafe covers your body as the coach tries to leave the room with his eyes closed. He looks down at you and steals a quick kiss. 

“Sorry coach. Just couldn’t help myself.”

@haruvalentine4321@namelesslosers@ijustwanttoreadlols@drewsphswife@corpsebridenightamare@actorslover@juniperbaies@fionaswifeyy@dark1paradise@stoned-writer @notafairyteen@theoraekenslover@rafedaddy01@rrafeswhore @10ava01 @selfcontollover07@akobx @rafesbabygirlx @lolasangelz @emmaaas-posts @anacamofficial @theoraekenslover @drewsphswife @illicitpages

Let me know if you want to be added

[aethercoreheart]

earl grey

virtual radio host!rafayel x producer!reader | (ii)

“I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You roll your eyes at Rafayel’s theatrics. He takes the covered tumbler filled with tea and slides it to his side of the studio desk. You take your own cup, which is filled with coffee, and raise it to your lips. It’s still hot and you have to fight back a grimace as the coffee scalds your tongue.

“A simple ‘thank you’ would have been enough. And next time, maybe don’t waltz in two minutes before we go on air,” you tell him, trying to sound as stern as possible. “Management will chew me out if they find out I’m this lenient on my host.”

Rafayel blows you a kiss from across the desk. “And that’s why I begged them to keep you as my producer.”

He takes a sip from his tumbler, and you watch as his face lights up. “Perfect. You really do make the best tea. I mean it, I really don’t know what I’d do without you,” he repeats.

He settles into his seat and checks the position of his materials. A small canvas is propped up on a table easel in front of him, surrounded by the tools he will need to paint for the stream that night: watercolor paints, jars of water, several brushes and a few rags. He gives you a thumbs up and you nod in return, turning your attention back to your laptop and the mixing console on your side of the desk. 

You glance over at all three camera feeds: one feed showing an overhead view of Rafayel and what he will be working on, one for a close up on his face, and the last one that shows a bigger view of his side of the studio. Rafayel puts his earpiece in while you position your headphones onto your ears. You motion for him to say something to test the sound.

“Only cuties can hear this message,” he drawls. You give him a pressed smile, suppressing another eye roll. He winks at you and you count him down to the start of the stream with just your fingers. As soon as your index finger goes down, his demeanor shifts and you see him sit up straighter in his seat. He beams at the camera for his face, his eyes taking on a curious sparkle. He clears his throat before speaking.

“Hey there, my little fishies. Welcome to Rafayel’s Cove. Grab a warm drink and let’s get settled in for the night...”

—

It’s midnight by the time the stream finishes. A slow, moody R&B song is playing while you set up the queue to run automatically until the breakfast show. You shift your eyes over your laptop to sneak a glance at Rafayel. He’s finishing up his painting of the night, completely immersed in it. Your fingers hover over your keyboard as you watch him, entranced by the way he flicks the brush over the canvas, adding small, intricate details to the piece. It’s been a year since you’ve started spending every weeknight with Rafayel, watching him paint and listening to him talk to the listeners, but you’re still not tired of it. And neither is the audience. You scroll over the comments on the stream, plucking out and reporting the very few abusive or spammy comments. The overwhelming majority of them shower Rafayel with love and praise – his audience has grown steadily over the past year, and they seem to be more committed to him as well.

You look over the analytics and you nod to yourself, pleased with how the stream went tonight. You don’t read the numbers out to Rafayel. He doesn’t care about them. His only concern is making art and connecting with his audience. And that’s all you really need him to do. His previous producers, your predecessors, were hellbent on making his show as profitable as possible, cramming as many ads and sponsorships in as they possibly could, which, of course, Rafayel had detested. Management had found it a relief that Rafayel had tolerated you past your first week of working with him. Then, they were ecstatic that you had managed to negotiate between them and your host: two one-minute ads every hour, and only one sponsorship opening every three months. Rafayel wasn’t over the moon about it, but for some reason, he heard you out and actually listened to you when you said that the show needed to be funded somehow.

You take your eyes away from your screen again and go back to watching Rafayel. You study the piece: a koi fish, painted in shades of purple, red and blue watercolor. You don’t realize it, but you let out a sigh of admiration, and you see him smirk without looking up from the piece.

“Oh, stop it,” he purrs. “You’re making me blush.”

You cross your arms over your chest and scoff. “Finish up quick, Rafayel. It’s past midnight and I want to go home now.” Despite your clipped tone, you feel a warm flush spread over your own cheeks. You’re hoping that he doesn’t look up and see it.

His smirk grows into a grin, his eyes still cast downwards. “Okay, okay, my lovely producer. Almost there.”

With that, he plops the brush he’s holding into a jar of water. He holds the piece up with his faintly stained hands.

“What do you think?” he asks, turning the canvas towards you.

You nod in approval. “Beautiful, as always. Now, let’s get out of here.”

—

You grip your phone tightly, eagerly anticipating a text, a call, anything from Rafayel that would indicate that he’d be in the studio soon. You look at the studio clock, biting the inside of your cheek. The stream should have started seven minutes ago, but the show’s host is currently nowhere to be seen. The last you'd heard from him was a text thirty seconds before the stream was supposed to start.

> Gunna be late. Soz. Cover for me pls

“Dammit, Rafayel,” you mutter, hunching over your laptop. “Who even says ‘Soz’ anymore?”

You read the comments starting to come through on the chat. 

> Where’s Rafa? 🙁

> what’s taking so looooong

> WE WANT RAFAYEL

> i’m logging off ugh

You grab your phone from where you had slammed it down on the desk and you briefly consider calling your creative director. You’d rather stab a pencil into your ear than let him know about the shitshow that’s currently happening. But you’re desperate. You’re even considering cancelling the stream tonight and just queuing songs for the rest of the night. Your thumb hovers over his name on the phone and you’re about to press on it when Rafayel bursts into the studio.

His face is red, all the way up to his ears, and he’s huffing and puffing so intensely that you’re afraid he might pass out. Both of you stare at each other, speechless, and you immediately set your phone down again, scared that your hand might act on its own and actually put the call through.

Rafayel’s eyes flick towards his side of the desk, then to you, then back to the desk. He starts to rush towards it, but you stop him, shaking your head at him. You reach into your bag underneath the desk and pull out a cosmetic kit. It’s not yours, but his – you have it on hand in case he ever needs a touch up in the middle of a stream. You fish a comb out of the kit, and you motion at Rafayel to bend down. He complies, and you run the comb through his lavender hair, neatening the stray hairs that had been sticking out. You then take his compact powder out, and press the puff against the places on his forehead where a sheens of sweat had started to form. You lock eyes with Rafayel for a split second and notice that his pupils have become dilated, his breath now coming out in shallow pants. You feel your mouth suddenly become dry. You snap the pact closed and nod at him. He inhales sharply and zigzags around you to sit at his side of the desk. He sets himself up with his earpiece and looks straight into the camera, putting on a smile. You check the camera feeds and turn the mic on – no time for a soundcheck. 

Rafayel takes another deep breath before going into his usual spiel. “Hi there fishies! Sorry about the late start. I had to take a detour to get to the cove. Now that we’re here though, why don’t we get started?”

—

You and Rafayel are both silent as you wrap up for the night. You chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating how you’re going to bring up the disaster that was the start of the show. He beats you to it.

“I’m really sorry,” he sighs, looking up from his piece of the night. “There wasn’t even an emergency. I was just late.”

You nod, choosing your next words carefully. “Can you tell me why you were late?”

Rafayel bites his lower lip before sighing again. “I was working on a piece the whole day. I got… distracted, I guess. That happens, sometimes. Certain pieces can just… eat you up.”

He chuckles nervously. “I was in a flow state the whole day, I think. By the time I realized that the whole day had gone, I was already going to be late for the show.”

You peer at him and notice that there are faint dark circles under his eyes. The whites of his eyes are also tinged with a light pink hue. “God, Rafayel, did you even sleep after the show last night?”

He shakes his head. “I napped for maybe an hour. But I was feeling inspired, so I just went with it. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.”

With that last statement, he locks eyes with you. You hold his gaze and you feel something stir in the pit of your stomach. He breaks away first, his attention going back to his piece.

“If Thomas wants someone to blame, give him my name,” he tells you. “Do not take the fall for me.” He looks back up at you, a determined glint in his eyes. “And it won’t happen again. I promise.”

—

“So you’re really taking the fall for him?” Thomas asks the question, but he already knows your answer. Your creative director taps on the rim of his coffee cup absentmindedly, awaiting your reply.

You shrug, your palms facing outwards. You shift in your seat and lean forward, just inches away from his desk. You’re determined to keep your voice steady. “I’m the producer. The buck stops with me. Anything that happens on Rafayel’s Cove has my name on it.”

Thomas lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re just like him,” he says, shaking his head. “Both of you are incredibly stubborn.” He picks up his cup and sips from it. 

“But we can’t lose either of you,” he murmurs, squinting at you from above the rim of the cup. He sets it down on his desk again. “Rafayel is invaluable to the network and you’re the only one he’ll work with.”

Inwardly, you’re already celebrating, but you wait for Thomas to finish his lecture.

“I’ll just tell management there was a technical issue. Servers were down for maintenance. Whatever. They won’t really care at that point.”

You slowly release the breath you didn’t know you had been holding. “Thank you Thomas,” reply, bowing your head towards him. “It won’t happen again.”

Thomas waves his hand at you, dismissing you. “Of course. Go now, don’t you have a show to prepare for?”

—

You take your time making your way to the studio. You’re making plans in your head about how you’re going to get Rafayel into the studio on time, everyday. Should you call him two hours before his scheduled time? What if you picked him up on your way in yourself?

You’re still deep in thought when you open the door to the studio. You don’t notice that the lights are already on and that someone is already in there.

You’re startled, and your shoulders tense up – you’re not expecting anyone to be in the studio. You exhale quickly when you realize that it’s just Rafayel, setting up his things for the stream. Wait. You check the time on your watch. It’s half an hour before the show starts.

You head inside and close the door behind you. “You’re early,” you remark as you head to the desk. 

Rafayel looks up from what he’s doing and gives you a mirthless chuckle. “See? Didn’t I tell you? Yesterday will not happen again.”

You settle in your seat, pleasantly surprised that most of your pre-show work is already done. You could get used to this. You’re about to go on your phone and start scrolling when Rafayel pipes up from his side of the desk. 

“You stuck your neck out for me, didn’t you? I told you not to.”

You shrug, the same way you had shrugged at Thomas back in his office. “I’m your producer. I’m responsible for you and the show.” You lean in towards Rafayel, closing the space between the two of you. “And you need a producer you can trust. Someone you can always turn to.” You set your hands on the table gently. “Let me be that producer for you.”

Rafayel is silent for a few moments, but he nods. His jaw clenches and unclenches before he replies in a whisper. “Yeah. Thank you.”

You spot two covered cups on the corner of the desk. One of them has a tea bag string and tag dangling outside of it. You take that one and pass it to Rafayel. He receives it from you without looking up from his work. He raises the cup to his lips to take a sip and you see him frown into the cup.

“Ugh,” he mutters, smacking his lips together. “I didn’t make it right. It doesn’t taste good.”

You giggle as you motion for him to give the cup back to you. “Here, let me take it. Since we’ve got time, I’ll make it just how you like it.”

—

You’re a few minutes into the stream when Rafayel answers his first question of the night from the audience. He’s working with pastels tonight, and he’s just finished picking out the colors he’s going to work with.

“What am I drinking?” he reads the question from the tablet in front of him, his hand reaching for his cup. “Good question. First time in the history of me doing this show that someone’s ever asked that. Any guesses?”

Your eyes leave your screen and focus on him. He raises his cup briefly for the camera before setting it back down. You drag your gaze back to the screen and notice that the chat is flooded with comments.

> definitely some tequila in there…

> i think it’s coffee?

> No wait, there’s a tag and string, it’s tea!

“Definitely no tequila,” Rafayel chuckles. “My producer would kill me.”

He turns his attention back to his piece and picks up a pastel stick. He starts sketching roughly with it, drawing bold lines. “You’re right, it’s tea,” he confirms for the audience.

> what kind!!!

> i bet he’s a green tea guy

> What if it’s matcha?

> or oolong maybe?

Rafayel looks at the tablet momentarily, then back to his piece. He continues to draw, talking while he does so. “It’s Earl Grey, actually.” 

“It’s my favorite tea. My producer makes it perfectly, every single time. I can’t do a show without it.”

His hands work furiously on the canvas panel. “My tea has to be bold, strong and fragrant. Sweet, but not too sickly sweet. I like the kind of tea that makes you miss it and crave it, just a little bit.”

You raise your eyebrows at what he says, but continue to listen.

“I need my tea by my side, always. It’s what gets me coming into the studio and doing these streams every night.”

Your cheeks start to heat up as you read the comments coming through.

> wow, waxing poetic about tea. okayyyy

> Damn I think I need some of that tea

> are we still talking about tea or…?

You look up and notice that Rafayel is looking directly at you, his hand hovering over the canvas. He has started sketching out the outline of a tea cup and it’s looking amazing already. Your eyes flick to the camera, then back to Rafayel. You motion with your head for him to turn his attention back to the camera, but he continues to look at you, his expression unreadable. That feeling you had felt the night before in your stomach comes back with an increased intensity. You bite down on your lower lip, no longer able to hide the fact that you are blushing.

“My tea. My lovely Earl Grey tea,” Rafayel murmurs, his head tilting to the side as he continues to look at you. “I really don’t know what I’d do without it.”

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 06/01✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do the little monkeys on Flower Fruit mountain ever see at Wukong and Macaque bickering like an old married couple and think to themselves 'just kiss already'?

Yes. They keep doing and Wukong tries to stop them otherwise Macaque could hear them (he already does)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Been reading up on Macaque Body Language and found this: "A peculiar behaviour displayed by macaques is lip smacking. Between macaques, lip smacking is used to show submission, affection and reconciliation. This behaviour is a form of communication and is sometimes accompanied with cooing vocalisations and mild raising of eyebrows." So now I can't stop imaging Monkey King and Macaque just smacking lips and raising eyebrows to each other instead of saying "I love you" or after a fight just smacking lips and then hugging. But then I also started questioning, do the two monkeys in your AU actually use monkey body language to communicate? Or is it just human language they use? Great work on your AU btw! Loving the art and story ^^

Mm some? Like a little but not too much. But that’s an adorable trivia!!

Does macaque know about Wukong's stage fright?👀

Yes.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Baby MK lives in my head rent free. If Wukong or Macaque were trappen in the calabash than their perfect world would be one where they could raise mk without him having to fight or get hurt and traumatized

I THINK the fanfiction series Squashed Apricots is just about this if it can interest you.

@abbytheslothwitch ha chiesto: In your AU or your general opinion, which monkey dad is the taller one; Wukong or Macaque?

Macaque

Anonimo ha chiesto: The way you draw Pigsy honestly is one of the best I've seen I mean just look at him!!! He doesn't have the proportions of a regular human because he's not human and it works so well! I dunno he just looks cool in your artstyle and design That all I had to say :]]]]

Thank you so much!!!♥️♥️♥️ He’s honestly quite hard to draw exactly bc of that, but it’s good practice! Him and DBK are generally harder, I’m not super used to draw animals.

@peach-fury ha chiesto: Ello! Sorry, it's me again But just had a thought, sense Macaque has died and went to Dìyù or the underworld. (I think that's were the book of death is) Wouldn't he be at least scared or nervous to go back? Idk like bad memories like their fight or the lady bone demon or something? Idk maybe overthinking or that I just like angsty :P (P.s I fricking love your art and your AU's so much!!!!)

Yes. I believe he wouldn’t like the idea. I like to think he”s actually terrified. But he wouldn’t care less if it means to protect and help his baby.

Anonimo ha chiesto: will MK try to try change his name into nobody or something form of loophole name so that can be like ohhhh nobody us in trouble! Everyone is safeeee! And nezha’s dad is like wait no

Ahah that’s a good idea! Unfortunately that isn’t the plan

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hear me out we know Wukong made the bed because he made it bigger. It's made out of peach tree wood. And carved moon and suns and stars on the headboard.

AWWWW!!😭😭😭😭😭

@a1teruniverse ha chiesto: What's the hardest panel you've drawn

It is a panel if it’s an animation?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will u ever do flash backs for shadowpeach thats “happy” like them first meeting realizing there in love a jealous mac courtnapping the monkey king just being young and in love.

Mmm yeah i wanna do smth like that. Don’t know when or how but i wanna.

Anonimo ha chiesto: does Wukong ever/will ever let glamours down and let like everything hang out like Mac would come in and his husband just causally has his boobs out and he’s like sweet my husband got hotter bc he’s pan(?) like I think you said that in an earlier post

I mean. I don’t think he has any issues dropping his glamours in front of macaque. I don’t think he would stay too much without his glamours bc still, I guess he would have some slight dysphoria. Also I mean, yeah Macaque loves him with or without boobies. But if Wukong could choose he would prefer not to have them out if he can.

Anonimo ha chiesto: which bottle is every ship in your lmk comic chugging? (I’m talking about your red bubble stickers for ao3 tags I would find it but I’m lazyyyh)

Shadowpeach is hurt & comfort (which I saw now I didn’t uploaded but yeah I got that one as well.), slowburn, enemies to lovers, and angst cause- duh.

Spicynoodle I would say is fluff, oneshot, enemies to lovers, found family.

Anonimo ha chiesto: im so embarrassed to ask about this but, later when mk and red boy r dating, who would ask the other first on a date? What would the date be? Also what does dbk and pif personal opinion of their relationship? SORRY IF THIS HAS BEEN ASKED BEFORE😭

I think MK, because dates are something a little more human, and cause Red Son is a workaholic. It can either be something like a training session, a videogame session at Red castle, or just also the traffic light trio being competitive. DBK and PIF are supporting, mostly bc they know their family will be even more powerful with an union such as theirs. Of course PIF is supporting also cause MK is Mac baby.

@kandymaneuwu ha chiesto: On a scale of 1 to 10 how fluffy is macaque this is very important

10 with merits

@5hadowm0ch1 ha chiesto: When will Shadowpeach kiss? It's always head-to-head Pats (I'm trying to predict what happening)

b-b-b-b-b- but head-to-head pats are cute…

@majesticgazell ha chiesto: Ooohhh I’m just imagining Li Jing catching wind of the plan and activating MK’s fillet while he’s in the shadows… maybe he wouldn’t lose himself under normal circumstances, but with that thing tightening around his head? 👀 Just a thought

Hehe, isn’t that a possibility?

@nataszaluiz ha chiesto: So I have a few questions. First: do you plan on ending it before Season 6 releases or do you plan on continuing it and mixing it up with your AU? Second: have you heard theories that a fragment of Azure's Soul is placed in the blue flower that appears after it's sacrifice? Third: Will characters like Yellowtusk and Peng appear in your AU?

S6 seems to either happen next year or never, so I ve3ry much hope i finish my story sooner.

no i haven’t

mmmm i don’t know

@cheddarcheesebiscuit1 ha chiesto: I gotta ask, if MK would to ever get injured in his monkie form, then would Macaque/Wukong try to take him to a human doctor or a vet?

I know we all want to see Macaque and Wukong freaking out when their baby is sick, but I think we forget sometimes that, even though they aren’t medics, Wukong has a basic understanding how to heal wounds and medicine. Macaque is head-canoned many times to be an expert in fact. And I think there are demons/demonic doctors in case MK has some kind of curse or demonic sickness, which would be what actually makes them worry in the first place.

@ainnur ha chiesto: Mei and Wukong team up?! Wasabi Duo the party crasher🎉✨ Love them💕 They need more love as a duo

Their name IS WASABI DUO????????? AAAWWWWWW

@sleeo-goos10 ha chiesto: Hi kyri! Thank you for sparking my LMK hyper fixation and I’m really curious: Will we get more Nezha? How will he react knowing that the Buddha approved this? IF the Buddha approved it at all 👀

Yes you will have plenty of Nezha. Also if youo guys really want to know, yeah, the Buddha themself approved of this. No, Li Jing wasn’t lying.

@saphstories ha chiesto: KYRI PLEASE IF I ASK FOR NOTHING ELSE I NEED TO SEE HELICOPTER AUNT PIF AND UNCLE DBK IN THAT FIGHT BECAUSE *HEAVEN DID WHAT TO THEIR NEPHEW???* And I'm sorry but of freaking course Red Son being the brat he is would call Mommy and Daddy to tattle about how mean Heaven is for stealing his Monkey before he could. 😂😂 Can you tell how insane the extended Monkey Fam makes me? 😂😂😂 I love this AU, I can't wait to see more!

When they heard the news they wanted to come to help attack the palace as well, but Red Son stopped them saying smt like “HE IS MY FUTURE HOUSBAND AND I GET TO KIDNAP HIM OUT OF HEAVEN MOM!”

@anxiousbb-witch ha chiesto: Do I have a reason to fear the possibilities of the golden headband being used on MK and all the emotions and tears coming from it?

oh year, absolutely.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I just have the funny thought that MK woke up one morning in his true form and get jumpscared by looking at himself and see he has boobs again

nooouuuu poor baby! But yeah it’s a funny image

@monkieshad0w ha chiesto: HELLOO HELLOO! What’s ur opinion on sundial duo :D (if you don’t know what sundial duo is, it’s basically Macaque and Wukong being duos and besties but not lovers) :3

oohhh well I do live any pf my ships as besties as well! Platonic love is just as important as romantic one for me personally!

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

A Morning In Berlin.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist !!

authors note - this is a sister chapter to this, you don’t necessarily need to read it 🩵

word count - 2k

in which, harry and madison are in berlin, whilst your back at home in the uk working, madison’s almost turning three in april, and harry wants to spend as much time with his two year old as possible.

The café hummed with the soft clatter of cups and quiet morning conversations, a welcome warmth against the crisp air outside.

Harry stood in line, his almost three-year-old daughter, Madison, nestled securely in his arms. Her small fingers played absentmindedly with the buttons on his coat as she rested her head against his chest, her curls still slightly tousled from the stroller ride.

He had already parked the stroller at a quiet corner table, making sure everything was set before stepping into the queue. Madison was getting tired, as her morning nap was soon approaching — her tiny yawns and slow blinks proof that the morning had been an adventure already.

The barista, a friendly-looking woman with a warm smile, greeted them cheerfully.

"Good morning," Harry said, offering a dimpled grin. "Could I get a black coffee, please?"

Before the barista could respond, Madison stirred in his arms, lifting her head slightly. She rubbed at her sleepy eyes with her fist before peering up at the woman behind the counter.

“Wan… warm miiilk, peas,” she mumbled, her voice soft and dreamy.

The barista’s face melted into a gentle smile. "One warm milk? Of course!"

Harry pressed a kiss to Madison’s curls, swaying her slightly in his arms. "That sounds like a perfect choice, bug."

Madison hummed in agreement, already resting her head back against his shoulder, her little fingers now curling into the fabric of his sweater.

As the barista rang up their order, Harry chuckled softly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his daughter’s breathing against him.

“Think you might be falling back asleep on me,Maddie-Moo’s,” he murmured.

Madison barely responded, just letting out a tiny sigh, perfectly content in her daddy’s arms.

Harry carried Madison over to their table. He carefully sat down, adjusting her in his lap so she was snug against him. Her tiny hands gripped onto his sweater, her head resting against his chest as she nursed her warm milk from the small cup the barista had given her.

Harry smiled to himself, brushing a few stray curls away from her face. He could tell she was getting sleepier by the second—her long lashes fluttered lazily, her little body melting further into his.

“Getting sleepy, bug?” he murmured, rubbing her back gently.

Madison gave a tiny nod, letting out a soft hum as she sipped her milk.

Harry glanced down at his phone on the table and, with one hand, tapped the screen to call you. The familiar ringing tone buzzed in his ear for a few moments before the screen lit up with your face.

“Hey, love,” Harry greeted warmly, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You appeared slightly out of breath, your hair still damp from your workout, dressed in your gym leggings and an oversized hoodie.

“Hey, you,” you replied, shifting the phone in your hand as you locked the front door behind you. “How’s my little munchkin?”

At the sound of your voice, Madison stirred, lifting her head slightly to peek at the screen. Her face was still sleepy, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of the café.

“Mamaaa…” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fist.

You cooed, pressing your phone closer. “Oh, baby, you look so sleepy. Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

Madison blinked slowly, nodding as she leaned back against Harry.

“Had…. warm miiilk,” she said, her voice soft and drowsy.

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“She’s just about ready to knock out, I think,” he mused, glancing down at her as she settled back into him. “Had a busy morning, haven’t we, Mads?”

Madison hummed in agreement, though her eyes were already drifting shut again.

You smiled, tucking your legs under you as you sat on the couch back home. “She looks so cozy. Wish I was there to cuddle you both. But I’m so glad you get to spend your time with her.”

These traditions were the moments Harry lived for.

Harry shifted slightly in his seat, careful not to disturb Madison as she snuggled deeper into him. Her soft breaths were steady against his chest, her tiny fingers still loosely gripping his sweater.

He glanced back at the phone, his green eyes warm as he smiled at you.

“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day then, love?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You sighed, stretching your legs out on the couch.

“Nothing too exciting,” you admitted. “Gotta go food shopping in a bit. We’re running dangerously low on snacks.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“Exactly,” you teased. “I’d never hear the end of it from you two if I didn’t restock the biscuits.”

He grinned. “You’re not wrong. We’ve raised Mads to have very high biscuit expectations.”

You laughed before tucking your feet beneath you. “And then after that, I think I’m just gonna curl up on the couch and watch some Netflix.”

Harry tilted his head. “Ooo, what’re you watching?”

“Dunno yet,” you admitted. “Might start something new, or I might just rewatch something comforting.”

Harry smirked. “So basically, you’re gonna watch Friends for the hundredth time?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight back your smile. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Predictable.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed. “What about you two? What’s on the agenda after this?”

Harry shifted the phone slightly, glancing down at Madison. “Well, before this one started dozing off, she was very adamant that we go to the toy museum.”

Your eyes lit up. “Oh, she’s gonna love that.”

“Yeah, I figured we’d head over after she wakes up,” Harry said, running a gentle hand over Madison’s back. “She was going on and on about the dolls and the trains. Kept saying, ‘Dada, choo-choo!’ over and over.”

You laughed. “That sounds about right. She’s been obsessed with trains lately.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry grinned. “She spotted one in a shop window earlier and nearly launched herself out of the stroller trying to get to it.”

“Oh god,” you chuckled. “Well, knowing her, she’s gonna try and bring half the museum home with her.”

Harry sighed dramatically. “I know. I can already see the puppy dog eyes she’s gonna give me at the gift shop.”

You smirked. “And you know you’re gonna give in.”

He scoffed. “Hey, I have some willpower.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Because last week, she asked for a teddy at the supermarket, and you told me you ‘just couldn’t say no’ while buying three of them.”

Harry groaned, tilting his head back. “Okay, okay. Maybe I’m weak.”

You laughed. “You definitely are when it comes to her.”

He shook his head with a fond smile, glancing down at Madison, who was still peacefully asleep in his arms. “Yeah… but can you blame me?”

Your heart melted at the sight of them.

“Not at all,” you murmured. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Harry grinned. “She really does, huh?”

You nodded. “And I love watching it.”

He gave you a soft look, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles on Madison’s back. “Well, she’s got both of us wrapped around her little finger.”

“Completely,” you agreed with a smile.

For a moment, you both just sat there, miles apart but completely connected. The love you shared, for each other and for your little girl, filled every space between you.

“Alright, love,” Harry murmured after a beat. “I’ll let you get on with your day. We’ll FaceTime again later, yeah?”

You nodded. “Definitely. Give Mads a kiss from me when she wakes up.”

“Already planning on it,” he said, his voice warm. “Love you, darling.”

“Love you too.”

After finishing his coffee, Harry carefully adjusted Madison in his arms before gently easing her into her stroller.

She stirred slightly but remained in a peaceful sleep, her tiny hands curled up by her face. Making sure she was snug, he pulled the blanket over her legs, tucking her in just right.

With one last glance to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Harry pushed open the café door and stepped out onto the crisp Berlin streets.

The city bustled with its usual morning energy—cyclists weaving through traffic, locals sipping their coffees outside tiny bakeries, and tourists snapping photos of the historic architecture.

Harry strolled along the pavement, taking his time as he pushed Madison’s stroller. He popped into a couple of small shops along the way, picking up a little toy train he knew she’d love and a book for himself.

The morning air was refreshing, and despite the gentle hum of city life around him, it felt peaceful—just him and his little girl, exploring together.

But as he turned onto a quieter street, a voice called out from behind him.

“Harry? Oh my God, it is you!”

He glanced up to see a young woman approaching, her phone already clutched in her hand.

“Hiya,” he greeted politely, offering a small smile as he continued walking.

“Would you mind taking a quick photo?” she asked, stepping closer.

Harry sighed softly, his tone kind but firm. “I appreciate it, love, but I’m just out with my daughter right now.”

He gestured slightly toward the stroller, making it clear he wasn’t in a position to stop.

The fan’s eyes flickered toward Madison before she pouted slightly. “Oh, please? Just one? I won’t be long, promise.”

Harry shook his head gently. “I’m really sorry, but I just wanna have a quiet morning with her.”

The fan huffed, clearly disappointed, but instead of backing off, she kept pace beside him. “I won’t tell anyone where you are, I swear. Just real quick?”

Harry exhaled through his nose, still keeping his voice steady. “I appreciate that, but no, not today.”

The fan groaned, frustration creeping into her tone. “It’s just one picture, though! I came all the way over here—”

A soft whimper cut through the air, making Harry immediately look down at the stroller. Madison shifted, her little face scrunching up as she let out a sleepy whine.

The noise, the persistent voice, the shift in atmosphere—it had disturbed her.

Harry’s brows knitted together as he crouched down, instantly switching his focus to his daughter.

“S’alright, baby,” he murmured, adjusting the blanket and rubbing her tummy gently. “Go back to sleep, love.”

Madison made another tiny noise before sucking on her thumb, her lashes fluttering as she tried to settle again.

Harry looked up, his expression now firmer as he turned back to the fan. “Look, I really need you to respect this. She’s just woken up because of all this, and that’s not fair on her.”

The fan’s face paled slightly, guilt flashing across her features. She bit her lip, glancing between Harry and Madison. “I—I didn’t mean to wake her, I just—”

Harry sighed, standing back up as he kept one hand on the stroller. “I get it, I do. But I’m asking you to please just let us be.”

The fan hesitated before finally nodding. “Okay… sorry.”

Harry gave a small nod, his jaw still tight. “Thanks.”

Without another word, he adjusted the stroller’s canopy slightly to block out some of the daylight and began walking again, keeping his steps slow and steady to soothe Madison back into sleep.

As he put distance between himself and the fan, he glanced down at his daughter, his expression softening instantly.

“Shh, it’s okay, bug,” he murmured, rubbing her little knee through the blanket. “Daddy’s got you.”

And with that, he kept walking, determined to make the rest of their morning as peaceful as possible.

[andersonsgf]

Roomate Abby getting jealous/possive🧐

modern roommate!abby

thank you for the request i now have possessive roommate abby brain rot 🙂‍↔️ series link

as always any requests for this series are welcome, but i have a little queue so don't be alarmed if it looks like i'm ignoring it - i'm not!

modern roommate!abby knew she could get a little possessive over the people she cared about. before she had even started dating you she had felt that little twinge in her chest when it looked like she was going to lose her chance with you. that time when she had her coworkers over and one of them slipped her number into your jeans. now that had been infuriating. but she wasn't even dating you yet so what the fuck could she do?

modern roommate!abby who -when she got over her initial distaste for you- felt like you had a special place in her heart. you lived with her. she learnt your habits. saw your ups and downs. knew your favourite snacks. you were her roommate. she even drove you around everywhere to make sure you were alright for crying out loud.

when you started dating it was only natural that this would carry over. modern roommate!abby was aware of her tendency to get jealous and possessive. never in a way where she would want to control you. no, she would never want to do that. but she felt like she had such a good thing going with you, and she rarely had a good thing going with anyone. sure, a lot of women were attracted to her, people brought banners saying as much to her rugby matches, but she seemed to always attract the women who wanted to treat her like a boyfriend. she may be nearly six feet tall, get clothes from the men section and generally seem more "masc", but that didn't mean she was a man by any means.

her past relationships never seemed to want to compliment her properly, get her sweet gifts on anniversaries. but god she realised that was not the case with you. you made it clear that you loved how she could pick you up and toss you around, but when all tired and lovesick before bed you'd always cup her cheeks and say something along the lines of "my pretty girl" before littering her with little kisses. you'd give her little flowers that had fallen in the park, check in on how she was doing emotionally and not just assume she was tanking her way through life. so yeah, there was no way she was letting you go, and no way she would let a single person on this planet be a threat to what you had.

the first time you went on a bar date with modern roommate!abby was when you suggested getting drunk together outside of the apartment. she agreed, knowing a good spot where she sometimes went with her teammates after winning a match that made them work for it. she liked seeing you giggly, your facial expressions showing what you were thinking, if you were slightly begrudged after even a sip of beer you just looked so grumpy.

it was all going well. at least one of her hands was all over you for most of the night whilst sitting in a corner booth, the drinks basically on a conveyor belt towards the two of you as the two of you slowly lost your grip on reality. entering some kind of new world with only a language you two could understand.

but when modern roommate!abby went up to the bar to get the final round of the night, she spotted some woman with the audacity to try and sidle up next to you in the booth. abby thought that this new person was absolutely fucking stupid. surely a corner booth screams 'im here with someone else'. she scowled, watching as this woman continued to hit on you. and there was sweet you, looking so uncomfortable but so not okay with confrontation even after multiple rum mixers.

she waited for the drinks to be put in her hands before making her way back over, her balance was slightly skewed from how much mezcal was currently being pumped through her bloodstream, but she was still stomping over like a trooper. "up", was all she said to the woman, her tone demanding as she stared her down.

"oh, sorry are you two together?".

"yeah, shes mine so if you could stop making her look like she wants to run into traffic that would be great for everyone involved".

when the woman muttered some apologies and even threw a few dollars down on the table, abby simply scoffed and clenched her jaw as she sat back down next to you, putting your drink down with unexpected gentleness, before her left hand firmly gripped around your waist. "you okay?".

you nodded and leaned into her, "yeah, just didn't fucking know what to do she was so confident with it every attempt i made to get her to fuck off she just spoke over", you sounded a lot more sober than before she had left to get the final round, but you were still pretty breathless whilst talking, the alcohol making your body go into overdrive.

modern roommate!abby smiled again, the possessive pang in her chest dwindling now that the threat was across the bar hitting on someone else. "well its just us again", her voice was low, smooth, a little suggestive. she gently pushed your drink towards you, wanting you to enjoy yourself again, the scheduled time for your uber was in fifteen minutes so time was of the essence.

modern roommate!abby held your hand throughout the entire ride, hers enveloped yours completely as she used the other one to trace between your knuckles, her expression slightly unsure. she acted so sure of herself a lot of the time, like she owned every room she was in. but when she gets reminded that you could choose someone else she can get real in her head about it. even after the many drinks you noticed how quiet she was, looking out the window whilst fidgeting with your hand. a frown appeared as a tired huff escaped you, your head lulling onto her shoulder and linking your arm with her giant one, holding her close, holding her tight, trying to make her feel better. maybe you were a little possessive too.

tags: @livvietalks