velory

[velory]

Mer!Damian Wayne x Mer!Reader

Hi hi!! Back from vacation and working in the requests! I got this idea and couldn’t get it out

Contains: Damian having a one-sided grudge, sweet gn!reader, mermaids stuck in a tank, world-building, scientists that are honestly pretty chill, short fic. Just fish beginning to crush.

(Damian is meant to be your age in this)

Enjoy!

Damian was originally found by the scientists and put in a personal, dark tank. He was from the deep waters, where it was always dark and almost always quiet. The tank was meant to mimic his old environment. However, the scientists found him too aggressive, so they decided to make him share a tank with someone else— you.

Damian was dropped in the large tank. It was bright— too bright. Everywhere was seaweed, coral, guppies, and little caves. He swam into the nearest cave and hid from the bright environment. He’d swam near the surface before— back when he lived in the ocean, but he always turned back before the light hit him too hard.

After a while, his eyes had adjusted and he’d finally learned how to swim around without getting overwhelmed. He even enjoyed being in the bigger tank a bit. What he didn’t enjoy, however, was his new roommate: you.

Granted, he’d never actually met you, but you can’t be good, right? After all, almost every mer he’d ever met was mean. It’s how the deep sea just was.

One day, while he was swimming, he saw you playing with the guppies while eating the seaweed. Your tail was long— much longer than his. The way you moved was smooth, quick, like the water flowed for you. He immediately figured out you were a reef mer, a species that hangs out in corals reefs, mostly eating plants and oysters.

He couldn’t help but watch you and the guppies, amused. You made eye contact with him and let out a small chirp— another unique trait of reef mers. Damian was used to the wails of the deep sea, his species noises were more like songs, while yours let our little noises. Cute, really.

He shook that thought out of his head— idiot.

You introduced yourself happily, excited about seeing another face. He stared at you like an idiot. His face felt weirdly warm. He didn’t know what to say till you asked his name.

“Damian.”

Somehow, after that day, you never left him alone.

You’d follow him, always chatting about one thing or other. He knew reef mers were social, or maybe he’s just used to being alone, either way this was new.

However, after a while, he enjoyed your presence. He’d started following you as well. He’d eat your foods, swim with you, watch you play with anything you saw like an overexcited puppy, and his personal favorite— laying out on the rocks, where the sun shone into the water of the tank. It was nice— warm— warmer than he’s ever been. Slowly, you’ve inched closer and closer per each session, and now you’re here, draped over his chest, long tail tangled around his, webbed fingers playing with his hair.

He saw the look you had. He knew it well.

“Spit it out. What do you want?” He asked bluntly, though there was a soft undertone.

After a couple seconds, you speak up. “Does it feel weird, moving from the dark waters to this tank?”

He was surprised a second, but eventually just nodded. “A bit. The light sometimes hurts my eyes. I suppose the dark can be… comforting.”

Before he could go on, your hands gently cupped over his eyes, providing the dark he was so used to.

“What’re you doing?” He demands.

“You said the dark comforts you, so I’m making it dark.” You explained, as if it was obvious.

He wanted to say something snarky, but the earnestness in your voice and the way your hands, calloused from breaking open shells, felt over his face made him relaxed.

“Thanks.” He finally whispered.

————————————————————————

probably will make a part two if this gets enough notes

my requests are open! Thanks for all the support. Yall are awesome!

[velory]

✦ ˚ : · HAUNTED LUNGS ⋆ MARK GRAYSON, INVINCIBLE 🌺

SYNOPSIS:

You were just a girl. Broken, doomed… but powerful.

By the age of twenty, you had nearly mastered black magic, conjured lethal spells, and negotiated with underworld entities like they were old friends. Not bad for someone who was never supposed to exist.

Your mother had a plan: give birth to the Antichrist, raise him as her own, and receive eternal life and endless luxury in return. All of it arranged with Him (yes, the one downstairs). But there was a problem: the Antichrist could only be a boy. No girl was ever meant to destroy the Earth. That was unthinkable.

So you, newborn and discarded, ended up in the hands of nuns and priests in a forgotten and not-at-all-satanic little village in Ireland.

When her ambitions were crushed, your mother tried to auction off your soul to the highest infernal bidder. The result: you ended up with a piece of every demon lodged inside you, until one finally agreed to keep your soul safe. That’s how what you are now was born.

A heavy smoker, probably on your way to alcoholism (not surprising—your mother didn’t sell her daughter to the Devil sober, after all), and above all, alone. Deeply alone. You got used to it. Learned the hard way that people who got too close to you didn’t end well, so you stopped trying. You developed sharp sarcasm and a precise kind of rudeness to make sure no one would want to stick around too long.

But of course, when you're the only conjurer in Chicago, it’s impossible to go unnoticed. The GDA had been tracking you for years, hell-bent on recruiting you. And you, always pragmatic, only joined when the pay was worth it. You were basically the freelancer of the superhero world.

Cecil didn’t give up—a sorceress like you would be a masterstroke for his team. But he only got you to say yes once. The reason? Mark Grayson.

For the first time, they didn’t send a veteran agent or some woman in a gray suit. They sent a young guy, clumsy, kind of an idiot… but attractive. Curious enough that you, against all your logic, accepted the job.

And because of that guy, the two of you ended up trapped in a parasocial relationship that dragged you both straight—literally—to Hell.

Tropes: strangers to friends to who even knows, grumpy x sunshine (kinda), starcrossed lovers, slow burn, touch starved reader

Warnings: satanism, witchcraft, all the demonic stuff you can imagine, a Hell inspired by Dante’s Divine Comedy, explicit sex scenes, tobacco, drug and alcohol use, physical and psychological violence, exorcisms, religious trauma, weird weird things.

N/A: AAAAA i'm so fucking excited for this. i'm writing it in spanish in wattpad, you can go check it if you like, my user is the same as here. obviously, your character is heavily inspired in john constantine, but with girly girl things.

also no amber hate will be tolerated, that's my girl.

✦ ˚ : · CHAPTER LIST

★ ﹟ 01. JUST A GIRL

★ ﹟ 02. WHO WE REALLY ARE

+ more coming

★ ﹟03. I AM NOBODY

★ ﹟04. SATANIC ENERGY

[velory]

Episode #2: Fast Car | tlou k. nanami au

Summary: We meet back up with Nanami and his wife, five years after episode one. Nanami finds out that the higher ups from the lab he works at would do anything to find a cure. And his wife… smuggles a very interesting boy into their home.

Genre/Warnings: tlou au, talks of pregnancy, discussions of medical ethics & experimentation, mentions of food insecurity, marriage tension, light profanity, apocalypse setting, a discussion alluding to traumatic childhood, implications of non consensual medical experimentation. 

Director’s Note: hi my sweet baby yuji!!! (i aged him down a bit)! also, let me know if i should start a taglist?? ok bye. thank you so much for reading! enjoy :)

Word Count: 5.4K+

Five Years After Episode 1

“Are you and your wife trying for a baby anytime?” The question catches me off guard. I almost trip on my own two feet. I look to my right and Suguru is watching me. “You’ve been married for some time now, right?” 

“Uh, yeah... For about nine years give or take,” I take my eyes off of him and look at the desecrated playground in front of us. He and I both know I deliberately chose to ignore that first question.

“Long time,” he hums, I still feel his eyes on me. “So no children?” 

“I mean, I don’t think the world needs any new babies at the moment.” I once again shifted my eyes around, hiding how uncomfortable these sets of questions were making me. My eyes land on torn up pages of ‘Oh, the Places You’ll Go’, the pages yellowing and the cover in such bad condition - I’m surprised I made out which book it was. 

He chuckles, causing me to turn my eyes back to him. He’s lazily leaning on a tree. Assault rifle in one arm and his other hand tucked into his pocket. “You sound like our bosses, Nanami,” he adjusts the weapon on his shoulder, my guard is up. “Expect,” he points his finger towards me, “they believe we do need more babies. Or at least ones they could experiment on.” He kisses the inside of his cheek. 

I don’t want to know, but the question flies out of my mouth. “What is that supposed to mean?” My feet feel like they’re glued to the spot. I hear the pages from the decimated book behind me flutter in the breeze. I think back on the few things I’ve heard in the lab, but this - this can’t be true. The thump of my heart tells me otherwise, that I know it’s true. 

“They want to start experimenting on pregnant women,” he says casually, as if we’re discussing shift assignments or whether or not we could possibly ration more rice. “See if immunity could build in the womb. Infect the mom and see if the baby comes out alright.” I stare at him. “You know, like a vaccine I guess. Give the baby a little of the infection and see what antidotes their bodies can make to fight it off. Creating something,” he stops and looks up at the branch dangling above him, “sustainable.” 

“That’s insane,” I say, a rough, fake chuckle following behind it. “Isn’t testing on already infected enough?” I ask, even though I know we both know the answer. 

“Is it, really?” He lifts a brow, the piece of hair hanging above it shifts in the light breeze. “You’ve seen the test runs for other experiments, the numbers, and let’s not even begin to talk about the experiments that have never made it into the lab.” 

“You want her to be an experiment?” The anger is boiling over, but I try to speak carefully - carefully enough to keep my job. “I mean, asking anyone is…” I glance down at the floor, littered with old newspaper scraps and dying leaves. “It’s unethical.”

“No need to get upset, Nanami.” He smiles, and for some odd reason it seems genuine. As if he’s reaching out to calm the anger I’m trying so desperately to hide. “It’s just an idea,” and then he laughs, genuinely laughs. “And hearing you,” he points back at me, “talk about ethics is great. It fits your ‘dad who teaches ethics at public university’ vibe’ very well.” 

I roll my eyes. “Ethics doesn’t seem to mean much anymore. I’m not sure why I even used that word.” I admitted, his laughter gnawing at my bones. 

“Mhm,��� I watch as he perks up on the tree. A shriek being heard nearby. An infected is close. “Not to some. But maybe that’s the point - you’re supposed to hold on to ethics when no one else does.” 

He pushes himself off the tree, straightening the weapon. “I got this one,” he says, walking towards the sound of the shriek. 

 -   

The lights in the lab are bright, so bright that the migraine I walked in feels like it's burrowing deeper behind my eyes.

“A cure,” Ijichi hums, his clipboard attached to his hand.

“Aren’t we actively looking for one?” Geto speaks against the humming of the generator coming from the back of the office. “Or just trying to get the infection to stop? I can't imagine grabbing an infected and trying to pump a vaccine in their arm.” He says. He has one leg crossed over the other, reclining in the uncomfortable seats as if he's at the bar discussing sports stats with friends. 

“I mean it has to be made before we get into that conversation,” Ijicji snaps, a tilt of annoyance running through his words at Geto’s interruption. “Who do you know that's even resistant? We can’t continue any work on the infected if every single person that comes in direct contact with one becomes… infected. There is only so much we could learn from the dead.”

I swallow, thinking about that conversation with Geto about the experiments with pregnant women. 

“What would someone need… to have resistance to a zombie making infection?” I don't miss the annoyed look on Ijicji’s face. 

“Geto, if we knew,” Ijicji rubs his right eyebrow, “don’t you think that person would be here in the lab?”

“And if that person is never found?” I hear myself ask, surprised I'm talking in this meeting. Geto raises his eyebrows at me. “Or if they don't want to be used for.. this?” My head hurts so much, I think I see two Ijicjis in the front of the room. 

“I don't think they'll be given much of a choice in the matter, mister ethics professor.” Geto mutters, a smile in his voice. 

-

I push through the crowded town center, weaving between bodies and ignoring the endless fliers shoved into my hands. Each one is stamped with “help yourself help others,” accompanied by sweaty palms and forced smiles, like some desperate mantra they think will save us all.

I want to roll my eyes.

Maybe scoff.

But I don’t.

I just want to get home. Get home to her.

At the front door, I fumble with the keys. One jams, and I have to shove the door with my shoulder to get it open. It finally gives - and there she is. The face I’ve been waiting to see all day.

But her expression stops me. It’s too sweet. Too weirdly timed.

“Ken, my love.” She practically sings it, rushing to pull me into a hug.

The tension in my back starts to unravel against her touch, and I sink into it, face buried in her neck. I almost forget how off this greeting feels.

Almost.

“You seem tense,” she whispers, her fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of my neck. She knows exactly what she's doing.

“I just missed you. That’s a-”

BANG.

A loud crash, like something fell - hard - in one of the back rooms.

I instantly straighten, instinct snapping into place as I move her behind me.

“Wait… Ken.” She tugs on my shirt. “Kento, please.”

I turn back, narrowing my eyes and pushing my glasses up.

“I can explain.”

“Explain what?” I ask slowly. Her grin answers before she does. “Did you bring in another cat?” I sigh. “You know we can’t bring outside animals into the village.”

“It’s… slightly bigger than a cat.”

“What? A dog?”

“No.”

We stare at each other now. Her smile’s still there, but her eyes sparkle with guilt - like a kid caught sneaking out after curfew.

“So.. you know my job?” She sings, her hands weaving through her hair. It’s longer now. It hasn’t smelled like vanilla cashmere in years though. 

“You work at the school,” I say flatly. A beat skips as I wait for her to continue. She’s now fidgeting with her fingers, the grin slightly dropping. “You’re taking too long.” I spin around, my longer legs giving me the advantage as I stride down the hall toward the back room.

“I have an explanation. I swear.” Her voice chases after me.

I throw open the door;

And there.

A child.

A human being.

A boy.

My grip on the doorknob tightens as I look down at a pink haired boy staring back at me. His eyes are as wide as saucers and his hands are holding on to pieces of a broken vase. Soil puddles around his feet and his red shoes look like he sloshed through mud. The tulips I just so happen to scavenge on a hunt for my wife are scattered around the room. 

A gust of wind passes me and my wife is now in the room with this random child. “Oh, Yuji,” she grabs at his hands still holding on to shards of the vase. I resist the urge to take over so that she won’t get cut, knowing how clumsy she gets with broken things. “It’s okay!” She muses, her voice as sweet as honey. I stay frozen watching the scene. The kid looks up at her, before shifting his eyes back at me. 

“Sweetheart,” I say, using the nickname we only pull out when one of us is two seconds from losing it with the other. “Mind coming out here? You know - if that’s okay with your friend?” I finally met the pink-haired boy’s eyes, giving him a tight nod. 

“Oh,” she throws her head over her shoulder to give me a glance. A look of pleading sketched on her face. I don’t ignore how she gives Yuji's hands a slight squeeze. “One second.” She shuffles around Yuji, picking up a huge shard of glass. 

“Just leave it,” I huff, my hand finally leaving the knob and running through my hair. “I’ll clean it.” 

“I should introduce you two,” her back is still towards me, the shard of glass dropping softly from her hands. Yuji is staring at her face so intently in not sure what he’ll find. “Yuji,” her palm brushes his cheek. The movement is way too familiar. “This is my husband, Kento.” She looks over her shoulder, Yuji’s eyes follow suit. “Kento, this is Yuji Itadori.” She flashes the smile that punches me in the gut and I almost let out the breath of annoyance I’ve been holding. 

“Hi, Mr. Nanami,” Yuji utters out. His eyes wide and gleaming, the grin plastered on his face even wider. 

“Hello,” the air in the room is thick, the breeze making the blinds sway isn’t being felt. “Sweetheart, I need to speak to you. Now.” I mutter, adding emphasis to the last word. 

“I’ll be right back, Yuji,” she whispers, brushing a hand over his hair before turning away from him. She doesn’t meet my eyes as she walks past me, steps slow, careful. Just a soft shuffle as she slips into the hallway.

I inhale through my nose, steady. Then glance back at the boy. Another tight nod. A stretched smile.

“Make yourself at home,” I say, teeth gritted behind it.

Then I shut the door, a little harder than I intended. 

“So, I think that explanation would be nice sweetheart,” I say low enough for her just to hear as I walk into the living room. I catch her eye roll, crossing her arms against her chest. “And I'd like to hear it tonight, if that’s okay with you.” I bite. 

“First, stop calling me that. I know you’re mad, no need to be petty, Kento.” She huffs. 

“Who is he and where are his parents?” 

“I don’t know who he is, and I don’t know where his parents are,” the defensive bite leaving her voice. “He just randomly showed up on the school grounds last week. No papers on him, no one else knows where he came from.” I see the way her right eyebrow twitches. She’s lying. 

“That’s not possible,” 

“Well I’m not lying,” the defensive tone is back, and loud. “I asked last week about him and no one even knew who I was talking about.” I just realized she crossed her arms so that she could rub at her skin on the back of arm. The tell sign of her being stressed. The new area where I randomly see raw skin arises. She thinks she’s hiding it well, I don’t tell her I caught on. 

“You brought home a kid, as if he’s a stray animal we could shelter.” I throw my hands up. “A child, a human being, who does not belong to us is in our home.” 

“Thank you for clearing up that he’s a human being. The pink hair almost made me believe he was an alien,” 

“Stop with the jokes,” I grit through my teeth. Her eyes narrow, her arms tighten around her chest. 

“I followed him last Thursday to see where he was going after the school day, hoping to see if he was going to a home,” her eyes flitter down out of what I think is sadness, but I don’t miss the guilt that’s very much evident in her voice. “He was sneaking out of the village. I don’t kn-“

“So you bring him here?” I whisper shout, “You bring a person not authorized into the village into our home?” 

“He’s not a ‘person’, he is a child, Kento.” She looks up, anger bubbling in the golden iris of her eyes.  “A child who is lonely and possibly suffering ou-“

“Oh yeah, because a child is not a person. What is a ‘person’, an alien?” I huff out a dry laugh.

I wait for a snarky response back but all I’m met with is silence.

“He is a child,” she looks up at me, her eyes watery. I start regretting the previous bite in my voice. “A really smart one at that. He’s funny. Kind,” I watch as she uses her fingers to count down these adjectives. She talks about him like she’s known him forever; not someone she just met a week ago.

 “We’ve seen so many people die,” her voice is so low, I have to lean in a bit to hear her. “I don’t think I’ll be able to just watch and do nothing for this child. It seems like no one else would.” 

“What’s his status?” 

“I don’t know, Ken. I don’t carry around a machine to test if someone is infected or not,” She rolls her eyes before looking at my face. I’m assuming my face expression prompts her to continue. “He doesn’t have symptoms. Or at least visible ones,” she whispers, her eyes dropping down to her feet. 

“Jesus,” I rub hard at my face. “You should’ve told me about him when you first came in contact with him.” 

“I didn’t want you to talk me out of helping him,”

The creak of the door behind us causes us to jump. 

“Mrs. Nanami,” Yuji shuffled into the living room, his steps weary, his hands stuffed into the pocket of what I now notice is one of my hoodies. I blink at the hoodie, wondering if she gave that to him today or before when she was following him. Also, how did I not realize that hoodie was missing? He gives me a quick sideways glance before heading to my wife. “I could always leave, you know?” He gives her a goofy half smile and I jump at the look of terror that crawls its way onto her face. 

“Yuji, where would you go?” Desperation is leaking from her voice and I can’t help but sit with the confusion bubbling in the pit of my stomach. What is so special about this child? What is she protecting? That ugly feeling, of being left out, of not knowing, gnaws at my throat, and I try like hell to swallow it down. 

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he huffs out. He looks over his shoulder to give me another once over. “I could just head back to where I was staying before,” he shrugs his shoulders, the goofy grin still plastered on his face. “But, big ask-“ he points at my hoodie. “Can I keep this and bring it back? I don’t have anything as warm as this.” I watch my wife’s face drop, her eyes scanning Yuji’s face for something I’m not sure she’ll find. 

“Where did you come from?” I ask, my eyes on him. “If you don’t mind me asking,” I run my hands through my hair. 

“I told yo-“ 

“I’m asking Yuji.” I don’t miss the way she flinches at that — caught off guard. But there’s no bite in my voice, just quiet insistence.

“Just outside the village.” Yuji says, turning towards me. The grin is gone but the childish light hasn’t left his eyes. I’m now realizing that that’s just his natural gleam. “I know it’s wrong to sneak in. But there’s not much food out there.” I stare at him intently realizing just how small he looks. My hoodie touches the middle of his thighs and the sleeves are rolled up (at least thrice) so that his hands could have access. 

I started to piece together some things I saw on our last hunt with my coworkers. “At the south side fence there’s a broken gate, were you coming in through there?” I watch both my wife’s and his eyes widen in realization. 

“Yeah!” Instead of being scared his location could’ve been realized by different people, he seems excited to know I knew where he was coming from. “It’s not as hard as it looks to get in and ou-“ I cut him off. 

“How long have you been out there?” 

“Maybe a little over three months.” He responds, so earnestly. “Mrs. Nanami has been stopping by -“ 

She cuts him off. Her very obvious lie slipping through. “Tell him where you came fr-“ she says, her eyes not even looking my way. 

“You could finish, Yuji,” I leave the anger bubbling in my gut out of my voice, for the moment. Voice calm, fists clenched. 

He looks back at my wife. “Uh, Mrs. Nanami has been stopping by since I first entered the quarantine village,” he says. “She talks about you a lot,” he smiles. She sighs - long and low, like the stream of air that comes out of a tea kettle right before the water is boiling.

The tension traveling around my wife and I wrap around us like vines on the side of a building. Yuji either doesn’t notice or seem to care. He continues, “I travelled here from that village near the zoo.” I know which one he’s talking about. That’s over thirty miles away. 

“Travelled, here how?” I ask. 

“Jesus, Kento,” she huffs. “He isn’t on trial.” I ignore her. 

“I walked. Just followed the markers on the highway,” he hums. Proud of himself. 

“That’s what,” I start to pretend to count.

“Thirty two miles away.” Yuji gleams at his answer. 

“Have you seen an infected person?” I question. 

“I mean, who hasn’t?” Yuji laughs, a light boyish giggle. But when he realizes we’re not laughing with him, he quickly stops. “They’re pretty gnarly,” he says, eyes skimming the floor. 

“Have you been bitten by one?” I let the question shimmy its way out of my mouth. Every single one of us knows that if he had been, he wouldn’t be in our living room right now. 

One of his arms reach up so that he can scratch at the back of his head. His pink hair messily scattered around. I don’t miss how his eyes are trained on the floor. “I don’t think I’ll be here if I did, right Mr. Nanami?” 

“Right,” I hum. 

“Yuji,” my wife’s voice is confused. As if she is just now seeing how little she knows about her new pink haired (possibly alien) friend. “How did you,” she pauses, thinking, “defend yourself? Assuming you were alone?” 

“Oh,” he practically squeals, he starts to run back to the room he came from. He’s about to pass me when he abruptly stops. I’m staring down at him. “Is it okay if I go get something from my bag?” He politely asks. His manners surprised me. I send him a quick nod and with a grin he escapes down the hallway. 

For the first time since Yuji came out into the living room, my wife and I locked eyes. 

“Your friend is,” I rub my hands together, thinking of the correct adjective to use. Weird. Strange. Suspicious. “polite.” I say and my wife literally scoffs. 

“I used this!” We hear him before we see him. Yuji comes barreling in with a switchblade. It’s one of those small foldable ones, and even then it seems foreign in his small, adolescent hands. The smile on his face tells me he’s been waiting for days to show off his weapon. 

Watching his hands grip the one thing that’s offered some protection does something to me. At this moment, I can see why my wife would want to protect this child - trading his switchblade for the care of another person. 

“You could put that away,” I say, watching intently as he fumbles while folding it back. “And keep it in your bag at all times in our house.” My wife and Yuji’s eyes both widened at my last statement. 

“Are you hungry?” I have no control of the words leaving my mouth. 

“Yes,” Yuji whispers, as if he’s embarrassed. The switch blade is awkwardly placed in his fist. 

“Let’s get ready for dinner,” I mumble. I turn around to head into our bedroom for the first time since entering my house today. 

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami,” Yuji basically shouts, I glance back and see him bowing to my retreating back. “Mrs. Nanami,” 

“Actually, Yuji,” I stop and turn back around. “Give me your switchblade. I’ll hold it,” Yuji hands defensively grips the weapon. 

“I need it, for when I’m outside the fence,” he whispers. 

“And when you go back, I’ll be sure that it’s in your possession.” My wife gives me a confused look. “You could stay here for a couple days.” I huff the last part, wondering when I came up with that plan. 

“Okay,” Yuji steps towards me, his moment hesitant. One outstretched hand later, his weapon is in mine and he steps back. 

“Sweetheart, what are we having for dinner?” I don’t miss the eye roll before I turn and head to our bedroom. 

-

Her arm brushes against mine as we both sit back and stare. In front of us, Yuji is practically licking the bowl of food. The bowl of rice and questionable jerky that’s supposed to replicate meat. Not much to lick up, but somehow he found a way.

“Yuji,” my wife hums next to me, “there is more food if you're still hungry,” she plays around with the food on her plate. “I could also make you something, else, if,” she pauses again, looking at me. Yuji’s face is at the bottom of his bowl, no plan on coming up to answer back - as if his face found a permanent home in the bowl, “you want.”

I look back at her, confusion written on my face. “Did you offer him food during your little rendezvous?” I mumbled, so that only she could hear me over Yuji’s clamorous slurping. I’m genuinely alarmed at how hungry he seems.

She rolls her eyes, “Of course I did! I mean, it wasn't warm food, but I gave him whatever we had around that neither of us was going to finish.” Her fork scrapes against her plate as she moves the rice around, her eyes boring a hole into Yuji’s head in his bowl. 

At that confession, I started thinking about the little food items that would end up missing and I just took it up as her being hungry. Like the chocolate bar I just so happen to come by at work - I couldn't even contain my excitement when I smuggled it out and brought it home. Or the pack of seaweed I was holding on to bring to work whenever we had left overs of rice. 

Before I could say something back, Yuji’s face emerged from his bowl. A toothy grin etched on his face and his eyes warm. He’s looking at her. “No, I think I'm alright, Mrs. Nanami,” he bows his head, finally placing his bowl on the table in front of him. “...thank you.” His hands are laying idly in his lap, the sleeves of my hoodie pooling there. He looks down at our unfinished plates. “You make really good rice Mrs. Nanami.”

“How old are you?” I can't stop the question from leaving my mouth. Confusion sketched into my voice. I push my glasses up, as if I'm trying to get a better look at the kid in front of me. 

“Twelve,” he pauses and looks up at the ceiling, mentally counting, I'm assuming. “I think.” 

“Do you remember how old you were when,” my wife pauses and looks at me, “all of this starting happening?” She circles her fingers in the air. 

“I was seven,” he hums. No obvious sign of fear or sadness in his voice. You ask any other adult about that day and you're met with disdain, remorse. Saudade.

“So… you've been alone since then?” 

“No, I was with my Grandpa,”

“Your parents?” 

“Ken,” 

“I was with my Grandpa when,” he mimics the movement my wife made when she asked her last question, his small adolescent finger popping out of the sleeves of my big hoodie,  “all of this started happening.” 

“I’m sorry, Yuji,” my wife whispers, sadness dripping at the end of every word. I don't have to look at her eyes to tell that they are watery. Yuji cocks his head to the side, his eyes watching my wife intently, as if he is as confused about her as we are of him. I grab her hand. 

“Why?” At this question, everything just freezes - for a minute. It's like I could almost hear the gears turning in my wife’s head, trying to figure how to respond to that simple one word question.  

“She is showing empathy,” 

“But,” he stops, as if trying to figure out what to say, or what empathy may mean. “I’m okay now.” He says, a smile on his face. I hear the breath catch in my wife’s throat and I'm even taken back from the emotional stance of this young boy. 

He yawns, his hands popping out of hoodie again and rubbing at his eyes. 

“Are you sleepy?” My wife asks, choosing to end the conversation for us all. Her hand has left mine and she's pushing away from the table. 

“Yes, Mrs-” another yawn cuts through. She’s standing by him now, her hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll set you up on the couch. Is that okay?” She asks him, as if we have another place to set him. As if we are at our old home, offering the guest room to an old friend visiting for dinner. 

I watch as Yuji stands up, quickly shuffling himself to stand behind her. Something about the way they move together catches me off guard. 

“They won't fit,” they both turn to face me still sitting at the table, “but I have some clothes I could give you. So..” I point my chin towards his pants, “you don't have to sleep in those.” Yuji beams and I catch a sliver of a smile making its way on to my wife's lips. “Not that you haven't already raided my closet.” I say, making sure there's humor in my voice as I point towards the hoodie he has on. 

Yuji sends me a beaming smile, a glint of mischief shining in his eyes and I feel myself sending him a small, but genuine smile back. 

-

I slide into our bed, and I feel the way her body tenses. Annoyance still crawls up my neck, and instead of finding my usual spot - my chest pressed against her back and my arms around her waist - I turn away.  My back to her, as if we’re in a silent standoff. 

I hear her move around behind me. I ignore it, just as I ignore how badly I want to bury my face in her neck.  

“Kento,” she whispers. I feel her scoot over, her cold feet touching my calf. Her hand is now hesitatingly pressing my bicep. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry… for not telling you about Yuji,” she huffs and I hear the regret. “And for smuggling him in. Saying it out loud makes me realize just how fucking crazy that sounds.” She lets out a quiet laugh and the warmth of it slides across my shoulder. She’s that close. I feel the annoyance slowly drain itself from my neck. 

I keep my back turned. “You know you could come to me about anything, right?” I whisper, a little hurt bleeding through. 

“I know, Ken. I know,” she whispers back. 

“All I want to do is protect you,” I say, my hands resting between my head and the pillow. Her hair sways, giving my shoulder a little kiss. I’m looking at a photo of us, one of the few things she could grab five years ago. It’s our wedding photo. She’s smiling, her hand in mine, like she’s the one leading me wherever we’re meant to go. 

“He is just a chil-“ 

“Not just from that,” I cut in gently. “In general.” I breathlessly rush out. “I would do anything you ask. You know that.”

I want to turn. But honestly.. I like the feel of her hair brushing against my skin like this.  

“My number one priority is always you. I’m sure you understand why I had that reaction.” 

“I do, and again,” she shifts a little closer, her chest pressed against my back. I’m fully fighting the urge to just turn and pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry.” A flutter of a kiss is pressed against my shoulder. “And thank you,” her voice is so quiet, “for allowing him to stay.” 

I shrug my shoulders, picturing the pink haired boy on our couch - in my too big pajama pants and the hoodie of mine he just so happened to have before he and I met.

“However,” the familiar playful tone is back in her voice. A rough poke to the back of my head pushes my head forward. “If you pull that ‘sweetheart’ name stint again, I’m going to call you Nanami for the rest of our lives.” I swallow down my chuckle. 

 “And now, I’m being the petty one,” she adds, a playful tilt in her voice. I feel the bed tip as she retreats, rolling away. "Goodnight, sweetheart.” I hear her giggle. 

I’m fully laughing at this point.

I flip over fast, capturing her in my arms mid-roll. I pull her towards me, fitting myself into the one place I belong. My face finds her neck. I press a light kiss to her jaw. 

Her hands find my forearms, and hold tight. She sends out little squeezes. 

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” 

“I don’t know,” I admit. “You seem attached to him.” 

“I think I am,” the warmth in her voice makes me smile. “How often do you meet someone who is actually happy nowadays?” 

“We’re happy,” my nose rubs at her jawline.

“Of course,” she hums. “But that is because we have each other.” I don’t respond, because it’s true. “He has no one.” 

“Apparently, he had you for a couple months,” I regret the hard bite in my voice. The words come out sharper than I intended. I hate that even in the middle of our reconciliation, I’m still holding on to her lie. I understand why she did it, I know her heart. But the idea of her putting herself in danger for a stranger, child or not, sends a cold chill down my back. 

She sighs, “I’m sorry. I know,” another sigh. “I know. I thought I’ll be able to handle it. Get him somewhere safe or reunite him with his parents. I don’t know.” She shrugs, her shoulder lightly hitting my chin. “I also apologized already, Nanami.” 

“I’m sorry, my love,” I whisper and I don’t miss the way she shivers. “Please, don’t hide anything from me again,” one of her hands has found its way in my hair, scratching my scalp. 

“I won’t, Ken.” 

TWILIGHTSUMU — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

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[velory]

In the deepest confines of the great Palace, of the king of that distant planet, there was found the princess, the second daughter of King Vegeta III. Sitting in the great garden of the palace, among flowers of unparalleled beauty, her eyes were lost in the night sky, full of stars and planets. Among the flowers and the infinite sky, the daughter of King Vegeta contemplated the vast cosmos, serene and blessed.

As she felt the hidden presence of that man her heart longed for so fervently, a vibrant emotion ran through her being, like a sweet and anxious whisper in the night breeze. She stood up gracefully, and among the flowers that adorned the garden like jewels of nature, she slowly approached him. Her lips, in a delicate dance of contained happiness, began to draw a smile that was shy.

Every step she took brought her closer to him, and her heart, that organ overflowing with hope and love, beat with increasing intensity, as if it wanted to escape from her chest and fly into his arms. The flowers beneath his feet seemed to bow with each movement, as if in reverence for the imminent encounter.

He, with a big smile that illuminated the night like the brightest of stars, walked quickly towards her, his eyes reflecting an ocean of feelings that longed to be released. When he reached her side, he took her tenderly but firmly, surrounding her waist with the strength of someone who embraces his destiny. In that embrace, the world faded away, and only the two of them remained, wrapped in an eternal bond of love and longing.

Little by little, with a delicacy that seemed to stop time, they separated just enough to look into each other's eyes, those mirrors of the soul where words became unnecessary. In the deep abyss of their gazes, they lost themselves in each other, like wandering stars finding their home in a vast firmament of emotions.

Without needing to say a word, their looks spoke of eternal love and deep longing, a desire that transcended space and time.

Their lips, magnetized by an irresistible attraction, began to slowly approach, closer and closer, like two worlds colliding in a universe of passion. In that magical moment, they melted their lips in a fiery and passionate kiss, uniting their souls in a heavenly dance of love and desire. It was a kiss that sealed unsaid promises, that whispered eternities and lit the night with the flame of his devotion.

A great scream is heard in the distance of the great garden. his brother. the first son of king vegeta III vegeta IV

...............

to be continue

hello. This is my first fanfic haha ​​I'm sorry if there is an error, English is not my first language. hope you like