#I’m coping have patience with me

[casualhedonists]

DATING IS SO HARD WTF

#vent to follow in the tags lmao #like. what???? #people!!! chill the fuck out!! #i had some dude unmatch with me bc i didn’t respond to him YESTERDAY #and like it’s not that big of a deal we’d only just matched but like?? patience is a fucking virtue?? and i have a life? #he was all like come back :((( then two minutes later he was like ok sorry for bothering you bye and then LEFT #like. fine if you do that but the message?? what?? #anyway it came at a bad time bc. a bitch is already in crisis rn #cause i kinda feel like my irl friends hate me for some reason and i already feel bad that i’ve been so busy i’ve not been able to #talk to them that much #and i was supposed to go on a trip with my friend but that’s been postponed (not her fault or mine) #and my car still won’t start. we tried to jump it today and it didn’t do anything #anyway i’m like rapid cycling through major emotions and it’s like mimi chill the fuck out #and listening to way too much phoebe bridgers i know the end #also i’m in crisis bc i’ve made up with like. my oldest friend who used to have a crush on me and when i told him i preferred girls he like #stopped talking to me for a while #that was years ago and now we’re slowly becoming friends again but i feel so much guilt over it for no reason #and i get into avoidant episodes as a coping mechanism and like. i feel like im going into one atp #okay okay vent over im okay lmaoo #sorry folks hope your days going better than mine <3 #｡･:*˚:✧｡ mimi speaks!

[n--n]

I had a really great time going out to dinner with my mom and nana tonight at a nice restaurant but nana believes in conspiracy theories and my mom and I have to keep debunking the bs sources she pulls out in a joking way to keep her from getting too defensive about how we don’t agree and I’m so tired. God fucking help me.

And then they’re like. Both loudly and condescendingly agreed about the whole “men and women can’t be friends” thing and that men and women have completely different brains/ in general most men are waiting to fuck you instead of genuinely caring about you as a person (and they did that FUCKING CONDESCENDING exaggerated laugh w/ eachother over it. I know most men have misogyny and treat women badly. And that they talk about us differently behind our backs. No fucking shit. But it’s not everyone, and believing so stringently that it’s impossible to have a true genuine friendship without either wanting to fuck eachother annoys and hurts me. How can we ever move forward to a less misogynistic world if we ourselves refuse to build real friendships with the opposite sex regardless of gender.) and frankly that kicked the Gender Issues bruise in my heart and I just Was Not Having It at the end of the night

#still a great dinner and I’m almost cooled off from how annoyed I was and I was very fucking patient about it #but GOD DAMNNNNN IIIITTTTTT AAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH #my patience was unusually thin tonight because they both kept bulldozing over any attempt to talk I made #and they’re both LOUD #because my nana won’t STOP TALKING TO LET SOMEONE ELSE TALK #and she yells because she can’t fucking hear but refuses to acknowledge it and when someone yells it makes me aggressive #and she INSISTS that we’re BRAINWASHED because we DISAGREE WITH HER #this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to using my tumblr like a diary I’m that fucking close to my limit #I still have to wrap the presents and pack #but I really really need to decompress #and I fucking hate that they’re both like. staunch believers in gene essentialist bullshit to cope with the shitty men in their lives #because like. that perspective that men and women are totally different animals just. #always brings up the memories of every debunked sexist claim about women and men I’ve worked so hard to un-internalize for my own sanity #and self confidence #I’m a cos woman I don’t even have the added pain of questions/transition but it’s still excruciating when that hornets nest is kicked #because it makes me think like. if they’re right and men and women have completely different brains (not just some differences) #does that make every nasty cruel misogynist claim about women- and thus me as a person- true? #are all my male friends really just. not actually my friends then #it’s just our biology motivating us to keep our options open #might just kill myself if we truly are nothing but a set a of steps towards fucking (which we aren’t btw. if we were we’d be more like #cicadas #or those moths with no mouth. #and we sure as hell wouldn’t live so long beyond our reproductive years. we are built for survival #not just reproduction)

[glamgoblin]

Y’know I’ve not seen much of the world tour but if the coordinated leather harness dance was in character, Vegas is actually a remarkably sane person for his childhood

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #I’m just saying if I was forced to learn a cooridinated family dance wearing a leather harness #adult me better have 50 therapists on standby #one hedgehog will not suffice #and MACAU #no wonder he throws rocks and wears striped like pugsley from the aadams family #he’s coping #this isn’t my REAL goth family #i wanna be adopted by the major family #I’d say send help but do they deliver to hell #this devolved quickly #much like my patience for gun #or Vegas sanity #and ability to wear fully buttoned shirts

[hanzajesthanza]

regis didn’t die because “he got drunk,” he died because he abandoned his principles.

regis swearing at stygga and vowing to “fuck this castle up” is not only disturbing for what it is, and who he is, but also because of who he is in the company.

it truly is the “i’m a healer, but…” meme, because regis is the voice of reason, moderation, and logic, advising geralt away from hasty decisions. he’s a self-reported coward and afraid of violence, and you know, he’s the doctor.

it’s not just his abandonment of his principle to not drink, but the abandonment of ALL of his principles—patience, rationality, goodwill, optimism—is what kills him.

this discarding of principles happens in the scene where he returns to the rest of the company and sees milva’s dead body, where he says he feels such strength to fuck up this entire castle.

this hasty, violent cursing of his comes before the scene with vilgefortz—it foreshadows his death owing to his hasty, violent attack of vilgefortz. it didn’t just come out of nowhere that he made a terrible decision. (i mean, his first terrible decision was to follow geralt in the first place but, eh.)

it’s not just because “he had been drinking”—the drinking is more of a side effect rather than a cause... (and “one should treat the cause, and not its symptoms…”)

since, to our knowledge, he had one drink before returning to see milva dead, and during that time seemed to be, more or less, regis as he was—he even cracks jokes to ciri before he realizes, ‘wait, maybe i scared her’—it is when he returns and has seen, is processing, milva dead, that he makes this suspiciously unhinged, out of character statement about “i feel such strength inside me,” “i could fuck up this entire castle.”

sure, he could have had a couple more drinks between these two scenes that sapkowski did just not deign to write of, but even if he had been totally plastered, i don’t think that that solely is what causes his downfall, his out of character viciousness and hastiness. remember that alcoholism is an addiction, and addictions re-emerge when one is faced with despair, loss, grief… and hopelessness. (and with blood already on his lips from the laboratory, it became that much easier to give in when having to confront this tragedy—the coping mechanism was already right back in his hands)

the hopelessness of losing milva at the portico of stygga castle broke them all, before they even went inside. and this death broke regis as we knew him, as the company’s optimist.

seeing milva dead was the death of his principles, his virtues, what he worked so hard for such a long time to hold himself to. because these principles became as worthless as his surgeon’s tools—in this citadel of death, there’s nothing you can do to save life, to preserve it, as he had done prior:

after her miscarriage, although they stayed in the lyrian-rivian corps of meve for five or six days, they had deserted—and deserted the barber-surgeons in that corps—in less than a week. consider then that it became once again, regis’ responsibility, as the company’s barber-surgeon and sole healer, to care for milva as she recuperated.

though dandelion notes she did so quickly as she was a hale and strong woman and her troubles were mostly emotional, one must consider the responsibility that not only a friend feels for his friend’s life, but how a doctor feels for his patient’s life.

and how he feels when that life heals slowly, recuperates with difficulty, suffers more (broken ribs) but continues to heal under care, finally becomes strong again and, like her namesake, a bird, released with pride into the air—only to be shot down immediately, glassy-eyed in her own blood.

milva for regis was a symbol of preserving life (indeed, an interesting symbol, as she suffers miscarriage). and between them, it was also, of course, a complete inversion of the mythology surrounding vampires and pregnant women.

but at stygga, she dies so immediately, so violently:

… and from something… something as inconsequential as any old bit of wood…

what kind of cruelty is it for life to be ripped away so quickly, by something so small, with no chance of saving? of healing?

but it’s nothing, because this is stygga castle. where healing becomes unusable. useless.

so regis leaves his healing at the doorstep—literally, upon the portico, where milva’s body was dragged back to by geralt and cahir, bleeding out in a dark pool.

and along with healing… his patience, moderation, mercy, kindness, wisdom… all of his virtues.

their virtues. the company’s virtues. since regis embodied this rationalist and optimist side of the company, when he abandons these principles of his, the entire company loses them;

because now, there is no one to advise them to “proceed slowly and with due prudence.” now, there is no one to placatingly say, “come, come, let there be concord.” now, there is no one to say, “of course we can, it is simply a matter of invention and positive thinking!”

the voice of reason has left us, he flew off on bat’s wings without a murmur or a whistle. now the voice only says — “i will fuck up this entire castle.”

i don’t think at stygga, in this scene and the one with vilgefortz, we’re seeing just a “regis, but drunk”. it’s deeper than that… because it’s not just his sobriety he broke, he broke everything—broken and shattered, like the collection of glass vials and flasks he shattered in his dramatic entrance to vilgefortz’s laboratory, exploding, bursting one after another. and from this erupts a hellish inferno of corpse-blue flames.

it’s not just “regis, but drunk” it’s “regis, but without patience, wisdom, kindness… etc…”

that’s why he’s so unlike the regis we’ve come to know during the series, why he at stygga becomes so unrecognizable to the readers—because he’s thrown away all of his beloved virtues that he strived to embody. and because “everybody has their good points, to even out the vices,” he became unbalanced, with his vices leading him. namely, his hubris, which often came out in a much more modest way during the rest of the saga—in a scholarly and lecturing tone of voice—but at stygga, comes out as an arrogant threat that he and he alone can and will fuck up this entire castle, an overconfident leap at vilgefortz’s throat.

and in my interpretation, it’s also not accurate to look at it like “this was actually the true regis,” “this was regis underneath it all,” because it’s not “how he was back then,” it’s not like he went back in time to be his past self. it’s not a reverting.

it’s more like coming full circle, for it’s milva’s death which triggers him to discard his principles, and he only got to know milva through his upholding of these principles. his actions towards her (namely his midwifery) showcase some of the best of what he became, owing to these principles of his.

and her presence, or rather the loss of her, makes him realize that all of his goodness is in vain and will be of no help here. and that is when a great hopelessness consumes him, and he throws out his goodness with a cold clatter to the ground—what use was any of this, after all? i cannot save her with medicine, i cannot save her with my principles, it all turned out to be useless.

and we’ve seen something like this already in the saga—it’s much like when ciri is in the korath desert and begins to think, everyone has abandoned me, the morality and ethics they taught me are utterly useless. and it takes her being in korath for her to get there, to break her spirit. the seed of this may have been planted in her at cintra, but her contempt didn’t fully erupt until after she had tasted the love, mercy, and kindness of geralt and yennefer’s parentage and saving of her—and then was suddenly deprived of it.

similarly, regis had a terrible youth, and yes, when he’s giving up his principles here, he’s returning to a similar state—but it’s not the same as if he had never experienced the entire arc following his rebirth into human life. it’s not a return to his youth, it’s more like… hm… a mid-life crisis? hah…

a metaphor of day and night is apt!

he’s not “reverting” at stygga—it’s like how dawn and dusk, though they are at similar light levels, are not the same thing, because they have the entire daytime inbetween them!

the sun sets with his discarding of principles, and we return to night… a cold, sinister, menacing, darkness. back to the realm of the vampire, not the human:

because he, the company, is suddenly deprived of their archer, who, just remember, they worked so hard to save on the battle of the bridge, milva, whom regis rushed towards and carried on his back, staying with her during her miscarriage.

and now, she’s utterly dead in such a violent manner, and actually, the arrow pierced her lower abdomen, possibly where her womb would be: “struck [her] low in the belly (…) having shattered her pelvis (…)” for the ultimate symbolism for her character.

and suddenly with her death, regis realizes how useless he is, to them, here, as a surgeon. he cannot save milva now like he did under the bridge. he can’t help, save any of them. he’s powerless.

and if not a surgeon, their surgeon, who is he?

and if not wise, patient, cautious, kind, gentle? if not always knowing what to do, ‘in his infinite wisdom,’ in his ‘omniscience’? if not humanity? what is left of emiel regis? what is left?

blood.

#the witcher books #emiel regis #analysis #c: regis #book: lady of the lake #another post about this: https://www.tumblr.com/hanzajesthanza/696998330754007040/regis-drinking-at-stygga-or-why-i-love

[rottenpumpkin13]

Give AGZSC + the Turks and Rufus periods. It’s for feminism Pumpkin, trust me. It has nothing to do with the fact that I’m on my period and I’m losing so much blood I see god

Choose Your Fighter - Period Edition

• Angeal makes no attempt at hiding his mood swings. He's all smiles one minute, the next he's crying over a plant in his office that's wilting, and the next he's enraged and screaming at Zack for breathing too loud. He's also the type to randomly yell out when a cramp hits. Scares everyone in his vicinity because everything is silent and then they'll hear "SON OF A BITCH OW FUCK"

• The only thing bigger than Zack's appetite on his period is his heart. He's crying because Cloud looks like a baby chocobo, he's sobbing because Sephiroth's eyes are like a kitty's, there are tears pouring down his cheeks because he loves everyone so much. He's also eating everything under the sun, including combinations that make no sense such as whipped cream on pizza.

*Zack eating his 37th donut and sobbing because he feels guilty for eating so much but at the same time he will not stop because he's on his period and in pain and deserves a treat but at the same time this is so unhealthy for him and he's clearly going to die early and everyone hates him*

• Genesis is indisposed and acts like he's on his death bed. You will commonly find Genesis in fetal position under a desk or decorating a couch. You will hear a groan that sounds like one of the planet's weapons has been awakened. Do not fear. It's Genesis. His moaning and lamenting over the pain he's feeling is comparable to the mating calls of a whale. If you touch him he screams. BUT if you don't give him attention and coddle him he will also scream.

Genesis: I'm dyING.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: I'm bleeding out and DYING.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: Will you mourn my death when I'm gone? How will you be able to cope with my loss? Have you made funeral arrangements yet? What is your plan??

Sephiroth: A vacation to Costa del Sol paid for by your credit card.

Genesis: Son of a—

• Cloud pretends everything is fine and he's not in pain when he is. He's seen hobbling and looking severely ill, but when asked how he's doing he refuses to acknowledge it.

Zack: You doing okay, Spike?

Cloud: Never better.

Zack: Really? Then what are you doing on the ground?

Cloud: Waiting for death to collect me.

• Sephiroth's anger during his period is comparable to all of humanity's rage concentrated into one person. Everything angers him. The lights are too bright, the weather is unacceptable, Genesis exists, his hair is too long. Sephiroth almost never swears, but when he does, it's guaranteed he's on his period bleeding out more blood than his body produces.

Zack: Good morning, Sephiroth!

Sephiroth: FUCK.

Zack: .....

• Reno is the type to complain to anyone was everyone who will listen about how miserable and in pain he is. He also beats himself up a lot because his emotions are all over the place, and everything seems 1000x worse than they actually are. But seriously he loves complaining, so much so that he becomes an unskippable cut scene whenever he has the chance.

Elena: Hey Reno.

Reno: It all started when I got my first period at age 12...

Elena:

Reno: I remember it well. It was a cold September afternoon. I returned from school, feeling the phantom pain settling in my....

• Tseng understands that healing from a period takes time and patience, so he takes care of himself. Tea, medicine at the right time, adequate showers, making sure not to complain to others so that they don't know he's ill, considering knocking himself out with a hammer so that he doesn't have to experience any of this, healthy food, telling Rufus "I'M FUCKING BLEEDING" when he demands to know why Tseng is laying in fetal position under his desk. Self care.

• Rufus: Whenever Rufus is on his period, he makes it Tseng's problem too. Tseng has to wheel him around in a wheelchair because he can't possibly walk, Tseng has to carry him out of bed, Tseng has to pick up cinnamon rolls from a very specific bakery in another continent or else Rufus can't sleep, pray for Tseng.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #tseng ff7 #rufus shinra #reno ff7 #zack fair #cloud strife

[run-clever-boy]

Can you write some snape x reader one shot ? Maybe something after war ? Or whatever you want 😁 Thank you.

Happy to! It’s what I’m here for :) Hope you like it! I’m so so so sorry for this taking forever. I’m gonna be honest it’s really hard for me to write for him so I’m trying my best babes! It’s not very long, but I would love feedback, and if you have suggestions I can do a rewrite!

He survived - Severus Snape

Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mostly fluff, mention of Severus’ near death, slight angst and comfort.

Summary: Severus retired from teaching and is opening a shop in Hogsmeade to sell his potions. You are currently still a teacher at Hogwarts and spend the weekend helping Severus prepare for the grand opening. (Set about 4 years after the war)

“Sev, I’m home!” You called out to the open space.

“Over here!” He shouts back. You walk toward his voice to find him organizing potion ingredients into his shelves. “How was the first week with the brats?”

“It went fine, it’s really odd not having you there” You go up to him and hug him from behind. “How close are you to being ready for the opening?”

“Pretty close, the one ingredient I’m missing is the bezoars. If Pippin’s Potions could get the supplies to me when they promised, we wouldn’t have this issue.” He sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead.

You get up on your toes and place a light kiss on his lips, hoping to relieve some worry. “Everything will be alright Sev, have patience.”

“Fine, I suppose you’re right.” He grunts out, kissing your forehead.

"Did you sleep last night?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugs. You know he still has nightmares, flashbacks really, of the war. It’s been really hard for him to get past it. You are just now beginning to cope with the horrors you faced, so you can’t even begin to imagine what her went through.

You go up behind him and start to rub his shoulders. You could see him tense badly, but then he eased into it. He set down whatever potion he had in his hand and dropped his head back a little. You worked on the knots in his shoulders as he breathed heavily.

“Thank you, I really needed that” He says sincerely, placing a hand on yours.

“Let’s get this organizing done, shall we?” You pick up a box of potions and ingredients. “Lead the way”

He points at a nearby shelf labeled Healing and caries another box with you, barely containing his smirk.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

You wake up in your bed in Hogsmeade, Severus nowhere in sight. You walk downstairs to the soon-to-be potion shop and see him fixing the order of some things.

“Good morning, Y/n” he says in his usual baritone voice.

“Good morning sev… uh… how did I make it to the bed last night?”

He chuckles to himself as he turns to face you.

“I kept you up pretty late helping get ready, you fell asleep on one of the new potion tables.”

“Oh sev, I’m so sorry-“

He holds up his hand “don’t be, the first week of classes is exhausting, I appreciate the help, love.” He walks toward you and places a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I didn’t see you in bed-” you start again

“Don’t.” He says pointedly, casting a fiery glare in your direction.

“Sev” You paused, knowing you’ve had this fight before. “You need help, you went through so much, I just want to help.”

He sighs, looking down from you. “I can’t help it, Y/n, I just can’t.” He places his hands on the edge of a counter and leans on them. “Every time I close my eyes all I can feel is…” he chokes up. Unable to say anymore.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his chest, sliding your hand into his hair and pulling him down into the embrace. You feel your clothes dampen from tears and your heart breaks. You whisper 'I love you' into his hair repeatedly, hoping he realizes how sincerely you have always meant them.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

“Everything”

You hold him tightly, not letting go until you know he has had enough. The comfortable silence envelopes you as you slowly separate from each other. You hold the sides of his face and plant a kiss on his cheek, backing up again to look into his eyes, just to double check that he is ok.

You grab a box and start heading toward the last of the empty shelves and he follows suit. You spend time carefully arranging each item into their respective shelves. Severus taught you his system, but you double check every details to make sure everything is exactly where it should be.

“The bezoars came in finally, love” Severus says with relief as he carries in a box from the front door. You knew he had been worried about getting all the supplies because of the shortage after the war.

You grab the box from him and go over to the ‘medicinal/healing’ section of the vast store, placing them in their respective positions, finally completing the last of the stock after many hours of work.

“I’m going to get some shut-eye before we open, wake me up so I can get ready, sev”

“Yes ma’am” he says, walking over briskly to give you a kiss before you go up to bed for some quick rest.

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You had never seen a shop more alive in Hogsmeade in a long time. You had also never been more grateful for the bedroom just upstairs for your energy boost. Your students, both new and old, came pouring into the shop with cauldrons in hand. Severus was working the floor. As usual, he was making sure each kid got what they needed and made sure “no brats can break my potion bottles”. You worked the register, which was now overflowing with customers. You saw some old friends and familiar faces as well. Harry and Ginny came to congratulate us, with Ron and Hermione not fair behind them. Narcissa came with Draco, which wasn’t pleasant, but you were able to keep them fair enough away from Sev to keep the civility going. Over all the business flowing better than you could’ve ever imagined.

“That will be 15 galleons please” You say in a very professional voice.

“Thank you so much! This is just a darling little shop here!” The older lady you are serving responds.

“Be careful” You lean in and with a low voice respond “You don’t want Severus to hear that!” Giggling with the lady as she gathers up her things.

You look over to him as she leaves. He is floating around the shop in his usual dark billowing robes. He moves effortlessly from place to place, clearly busy, but beautifully in his element. He turns and meets your gaze from across the room and a soft smile plays on his lips. Something tells you that he is going to be alright. Contempt in the life you two were given. Most of all, you were happy that he was yours. That he survived.

#severus x y/n #severus x reader #severus snape #pro severus #professor snape #snape fluff #snape fandom #snape #pro snape #snapedom #severus #hp fandom

[kakushino]

I’m scared to ask because like I never done this before-

Anyway 👀

Do you think you can make a head cannon thing (or whatever they are called. 🥲) about a male y/n meeting (tanjiro, rengoku, or zenitsu) for the first time but y/n had like major anger issues because of their past (mostly because of their father) and they like later at night they like tell them that their dad was a horrible person and just and soft for the first time to them.

It’s fine if ya don’t want to do it I won’t mind at all :)! But if u do thank you! :D

Tanjiro meeting reader with anger issues

Tanjiro would never judge anyone for their trauma.

Tags: mild violence mention, anger issues, GN! Reader, sfw

Masterlist

AN: I have to admit, this gave me some troubles to write, as I tend to forget "the bad" as a form of coping mechanism. Lots of thanks to A and G for beta-reading and their help in figuring this out! Thank you for your patience and for requesting this! I hope you like it!

The first time Tanjiro sees you, you split your knuckles punching a man much bigger than you. The wrath and distress practically oozing from you make his nose scrunch up a little, but the situation is dissolved before he can step closer to you. You disappear in the next second like vapor above a cooking broth. It makes him wonder who you are, and why you have so much anger in you.

The second time Tanjiro sees you, he actually meets you. Your form is tense as you administer meds to a few of the slayers resting in Butterfly estate. He vividly remembers the way you laid out that man on the streets… 

One of the slayers says something he can’t hear but the next thing he knows, you’re pouring tea over that slayer’s head, much to his indignation. Yet again, the anger wafts from your figure as you stalk away, overpowering any other scent he might have caught on you.

Is there anxiety? Is there sadness? All he can smell is anger, and it makes his head spin.

The third time he sees you, you’re sitting on the engawa staring at your hands, callused from labor and fighting. An undercurrent of the previous negative emotions seemingly soaked into your clothing, yet your face is blank. He has to wonder, are you always on the edge? Or does he just happen to see you in such situations?

He feels compelled to sit beside you, and perhaps offer you an ear and a kind word.

Perhaps it is his openness and warmth, but you find yourself spilling your life story to him - how your past left a festering wound behind, and especially how your father created a deep chasm in your mind, heart, and soul. You tell him how you simply can’t keep calm when someone reminds you of the inadequacy and loneliness you always felt when under your father’s thumb, the shame and the distress fueling your fists, and you cannot hold back.

Tanjiro simply listens. He offers no judgment to your character, because anger is not what defines you, it never did. He understands the need to use it as a protection, a wall of defense when anything hits too close to home, he understands and he doesn’t blame you. He doesn’t know how it feels to be related to such a person, but he knows just how to comfort you.

He gives you his hand to hold, and reassures you, tells you that that man shouldn’t call himself a father, tells you that you will find happiness, and that’s one thing he will never experience. Karma is free, and it has its way of coming back around.

The warm embrace you share afterwards is the start of something great for you both, the stars being the only witness to your exchange.

dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear Network: @enchantedforest-network

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tanjiro x reader #kamado tanjiro x reader #kamado tanjiro #tanjiro #tanjiro x you #tanjiro x y/n #demon slayer headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba headcanons #tanjiro headcanons #kny headcanons #kny fanfic #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer fanfic

[mavrintarou]

Wipe Your Eyes [6]

Thank you for all your patience with me, there were some family events the last couple of weeks and sometimes it's just never ending. I hope you all have been well and here's some sweet Kiyoomi.

Warning: sweet smut, therapy session for Y/n, less angst and more fluff

Fifth part Seventh part - end

.

Kiyoomi endured a few more weeks of Couvade Syndrome before he miraculously woke up one day and felt fresh and new as if nothing happened.

Y/n watched him shove food down his throat as he was finally able to eat and keep the food down. He requested things that he had never eaten before and things he has shown a dislike for, such as a chocolate cream pie. With extra whipped cream.

“You sure you don’t want any?”

Y/n shook her head with a smile, “no, I’m good.” She felt relieved that he was feeling better.

At first, she couldn’t possibly believe Kiyoomi was going through Couvade Syndrome, but everything would point to it.

The morning sickness.

The mood swings.

The fatigue.

On certain days, he would experience one or two symptoms, while on others, he would be stuck by the full array of symptoms, making it challenging to witness him cope with the effects.

The timing was a blessing in disguise as Kiyoomi was in his off-season of volleyball. Some days he would not be able to get out of bed or out of the bathroom.

“I’m so dizzy.” He mumbled when Y/n would come to check in on him. “Don’t be on your feet too long, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/n answered softly, kissing his forehead, and combing his curls out of the way. Even when he wasn’t feeling the best, he still put her before him.

Kiyoomi throws an arm over his eyes and muttered, “I’m serious.”

“I know, I won’t be on my feet for more than what the therapist ordered.” She has been going to physical therapy on her own since Kiyoomi wasn’t in the best shape to tag along. “Will it make you feel better if I come work in bed beside you?”

He glanced at her with one eye, a glimmer of hope in his gaze. “You would do that for me?” he asked. She nodded, and a small smile graced her lips, “yes, that would make me feel better.”

When she returned with her laptop to spend the rest of her work hours reviewing, he was out completely. He was shirtless with only his boxers on, he complained about being hot one second and cold the next, it was easier to just have him sleep in the least amount of clothing with the space heater set on low.

She shook her head, amused by the sound of Kiyoomi’s quiet snores. Moving as close as she could to him, she ensured there was physical contact before settling into her own comfortable position and starting her work.

A few hours later, she shut her laptop down and leaned over to set it on the nightstand. Kiyoomi was now turned towards her with an arm over her lap and one long heavy leg was thrown over hers.

Leaning over, she kissed his temple and whispered, “Omi, welfare check, how are you doing?”

She wasn’t sure if he was alert or not, but she heard his exhale and he shifted, pulling her closer.

“Yomi…?” Y/n’s voice cut off as she feels something hard pressing and rubbing against the side of her thigh.

Yearning for a sort of solace, Kiyoomi was dry humping her thigh, groaning in his sleep.

“Kiyoomi?” Y/n cupped his cheek, “hey – “

“Y/n?”

She looked at him, but his eyes remain closed, “yes?” He rolled over her, face buried into her tummy, “Omi?”

“… need… you…”

Y/n lifts his head, cupping both cheeks, “Omi, look at me, please?” He raised his head, and despite the weariness in his eyes, they gleamed with a mixture of longing and passion.

“How do you need me?” At her question, Kiyoomi rocked his bulge against her thigh.

“Please…” he rubs his face against her chest. His eyes widen as in a split second, he is on his back with Y/n straddling over his waist. She tugs off her shirt and pushes her sweatpants and panties off before tugging off his own joggers. He allowed and enjoyed Y/n manhandling him before she rocked herself against his cock, sliding along his length and driving him mad. Her wetness lubricated his girth through her rocking.

A quiet moan escaped her lips, he wasn’t even inside of her, but he felt long and thick.

He grabs her hips, digging his thumb into her skin. “No… no more teasing…”

Y/n lifts herself and Kiyoomi takes his cock and aligns it beneath her entrance and guided her down until he was fully sheath inside of her.

Kiyoomi groaned, “wait – too deep…” he tried to lift her hips, but she dropped her weight, shaking her head.

Her eyes shut tightly, biting down on her lower lip. “You’re so big…”

His hands hesitated briefly before gently shifting towards her abdomen, where their growing baby reside. He could sense the subtle transformation taking place within her body.

Y/n placed her hands on his for a split second before threading her fingers with his and began rocking her hips. “Ah… Omi…”

His face twisted in pleasure, he gasped out loud, and Y/n found his moans endearing. Kiyoomi rarely made noises during lovemaking, he panted and grunted but never a moaning mess beneath Y/n.

Y/n leaned down to kiss him, “Omi… you sound so beautiful…”

He shakes his hands free from hers and reaches around her back to undo her bra, taking off the material as it rubbed against his chest. He groped her breasts, taking in a perky nipple into his mouth while tweaking the other side.

Y/n wasn’t sure if it was the idea of pregnancy sex but every touch from Kiyoomi was sending her spark and tingles everywhere. She continued to roll her hips, hitting the deep spot within her. “Omi… I’m so close… you feel – “

“You feel amazing,” he finished and thrusts up into her.

“Omi!” Y/n cried, weight collapsing onto him. Her sensitive walls shudder around his cock as he continues to keep thrusting into her.

“Y/n!” Kiyoomi grunts, hips jerking with each ejaculation release.

.

“All you needed was some sex and now you’re feeling brand new?” Y/n teased watching Kiyoomi walk around their place in only his joggers. A vibrant flush colored his cheeks, transforming his appearance from sickly to healthy and vibrant.

No one would have suspected that an hour ago, he was in bed drained from Couvade Syndrome.

Kiyoomi was literally glowing with fully charged energy.

“Glad we found a way to fix it.” He winked at her with a smirk on his face. Winked. At. Her.

Y/n’s jaw dropped for a split second before her cheeks flushed.

. .

“Sakusa Y/n, please tell me about yourself?”

Y/n clears her throat, it was her turn to meet individually with Dr. Kitagowa. “Do you want to know like my childhood up until now?”

“Yes please.”

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, ”I am an only child. My father is full Korean while my mother is half Korean and half Japanese. I spent my childhood going back and forth between South Korea and Japan to visit my maternal grandparents up until their passing. I continue to visit occasionally and after finishing high school in South Korea, I was accepted to the university in Japan where I spent my college years here.” She eyed Dr. Kitagowa who is scribbling on their notepad. “I met Kiyoomi, my husband… during our college days.”

Her mind wandered back to memory lane.

“He…” her words cut off as she broke into a fit of giggle, remembering the first time she saw Kiyoomi. “The first time I met Kiyoomi, he was so beautiful. He still is but that was the first thing I thought when I saw him take off his mask to eat in the cafeteria.” She remembered her eyes bulging out and she was starstruck.

She nearly dropped her tray of lunch.

Every day thereafter, she would hope to catch a glimpse of him in the same spot at the same time.

She found out his name through the grapevines and that he was on the men’s volleyball team where she’s seen all their games.

Y/n was astounded by the stark contrast between the awkward guy at the lunch table and in the hallways and the one she witnessed on the court. It was hard to believe they were one and the same person.

Each day, she longed for the chance to capture his gaze.

“I would pray ‘Please look at me.’ over and over…” she sighed with a laugh. “And then one day, my club was having a bake sale and I would never expect in a million years that Kiyoomi… would come up to me and purchase some cookies,” Y/n remembers having the dumb smile on her face, the flutter in her tummy, and the excitement jitters. “I ran into him a few more times after that and then one day he asked me if I was free.” She was so stunned at his question, unsure if she was hearing it right. She didn’t want to overthink that he was asking something she was imagining. “He asked me ‘Would you like to come to my game?’… little did Kiyoomi know, I have been going to all the home games, cheering for his team.”

Y/n fiddled with her skirt, “but I couldn’t let him know that he would think I was weird or something.”

Dr. Kitagowa had a small smile on his face, “does Mr. Sakusa know now that you did, in fact, attend his games prior to him asking you?”

Y/n nodded, blushing, “yes, I told him later.”

“What happened next?”

“I went to the game, and even though it wasn’t the first game I’ve gone to… it was the first one he invited me to, so I was extremely nervous.” She remembered being upset because she couldn’t get seats close to the court and had to sit towards the top. She wished she could have gotten his phone number to text him that she was there, at the nose-bleed seats. “Of course, they won the game, and I was super… proud of him but I couldn’t find him after the game, so I went home.” The next day, she made it to the university early to try and find Kiyoomi, in which she found him.

“I came too late and got terrible seats, but I did watch you play.” She blurted the sentence under one breath. “You were amazing.” She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and felt pathetic blabbering away.

“I was looking for you.”

She looked up at him, “you were? I was there, I swear – “

Kiyoomi pulled his mask down, “I believe you.” He smiled, it was small, but he smiled.

“I always knew from the beginning, that Kiyoomi was not… a romantic man.” She sighed with a small smile on her face. “I’ve always imagined myself with a romantic man who would hold my hand in public and show public affection.” Kiyoomi was the exact opposite. She discovered that Kiyoomi wasn’t wearing a mask just because it was flu season, he wore a mask all the time unless he was in the comfort of his own home. “Nonetheless, I respected Kiyoomi’s boundaries and when we began seeing each other more and more, he finally asked me out and it was one of the best days of my life.”

Well, for her but not for those around her.

A considerable number of her friend and even her parents did not hold a favorable opinion of Kiyoomi. They didn’t like his stoic and detached personality.

“Kiyoomi is frequently misunderstood, and since we started dating, we have encountered certain challenges in our relationship.”

You don’t come out anymore.

You’ve changed since you dated Sakusa.

He has no personality.

He is so hard to have a conversation with.

Y/n looked at Dr. Kitagowa who had been silent the entire time that she rambled on about her life. She didn’t like to talk much about her parents’ dislike of Kiyoomi. “My parents… did not like nor want me to date a Japanese man because my paternal grandparents are loathing the Japanese people. My dad fell in love with a Japanese woman who was willing to give up her culture and identity to be with him.” And when Y/n fell in love with a Japanese man, her paternal grandparents made a fuss about how it was an eye-for-an-eye.

“How did Mr. Sakusa’s family feel about you?”

“They were definitely more welcoming than my family. They embraced and supported us wholeheartedly, genuinely happy for both Kiyoomi and me. I have developed a strong bond with his mother, enjoying a good and harmonious relationship with her. On the other hand, I only have occasional encounters with his father when he’s in the country.”

Dr. Kitagowa lets out a deep sigh, “are you being accused of giving up your culture and identity to be with Mr. Sakusa?”

“I grew up mostly in South Korea, but I was always more in tune with my Japanese heritage. I wouldn’t say that I’m giving up or favor one over the other.” She pressed a hand to her abdomen, “we’re expecting, and I have not yet discussed it with Kiyoomi yet, but I would love to give our child a Korean name, a middle name. I don’t have a Japanese name, Y/n, is my unofficial name given to me by my maternal grandparents.”

“What is the relationship between your husband and parents?”

Y/n lets out a shaky laugh. It was rocky. It is still rocky. “Initially, they held a negative opinion of him, and unfortunately, their perspective has remained unchained. At present, they merely tolerate his presence.”

“How does that affect you?”

“It saddens me, and I’ve been put in a situation by my parents that I would have to choose between them or Kiyoomi.” It brought tears to her eyes thinking back to that moment. “And I choose Kiyoomi because he never once made me choose.” She reached for the tissue box, dabbing her eyes. “Even through our ups and downs, I would always choose Kiyoomi.”

. .

Kiyoomi leaned against the doorway of the room that was going to be the baby’s room. He envisioned the perfect placement for the crib, dresser, and rocking chair, carefully imagining their positions in the room.

Will their baby be a boy or a girl? What color should they paint the nursery?

He sighed, regardless of if it was a boy or girl, he prayed they look like their mother.

Kiyoomi frowned, now that he thought about it, he has never seen any of Y/n’s baby or childhood photos before.

His thoughts are disrupted when hears Y/n’s return.

“Hey,” he greeted, noticing the signs of physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion etched across her face. “Are you… okay?” She finally lifts her gaze, revealing red eyes that immediately caught his attention. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them, tenderly cupping her face in his large hands. His eyes searched hers, filled with concern and yearning for answers. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

She shook her head and surprised him when she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Can you hug me, please?”

Kiyoomi’s arms enveloped her in a comforting embrace, and he tenderly placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “You never have to ask,” he whispered softly, “I’ll be there for you.”

A few minutes passed in serene silence, creating a comfortable and tranquil atmosphere.

“Can we move to the couch?” She nodded her head and Kiyoomi shuffled them to the couch without having to break their hug. He pulled her onto his lap, and she tightened her arms around his neck. He’s not sure what shook her up like this, but he was going to try and be patient and let her open up to him.

One hand rubbed her thigh, and the other hand rubbed her lower back. “Please, talk to me,” he whispered with a hint of anxiety lacing his voice. “You’re making my mind and heart race.”

Y/n pulled back and looked at him, a hand touching his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and strength. “The therapy session today brought back some old wounds, but it’s nothing detrimental. It served as a reminder of how far I’ve come and how those experiences have shamed me into the person I am today.”

His dark eyes softened, and he leaned into the gentle touch of her palm. “What kind of person have you become?” he mused, a contemplative expression crossing his face.

She maintained eye contact, reflecting her soft, affectionate gaze back at him. With a small, heartfelt smile, she replied, “one that chooses you.”

Kiyoomi bit down on his lower lip to prevent it from trembling. He lets out a soft chuckle and drops his head onto her shoulder, “I love you, so much.”

.

All of Kiyoomi’s teammates nervously exchange glances in silence. While their coach spoke about the upcoming season and the slight changes in training, their attention was repeatedly drawn to their teammate at the far end. It had been a few weeks since they last saw him, and they couldn’t help but feel perplexed by the profound transformation in Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi.

Out in public.

Without a mask.

Atsumu is the first to dare speak when the coach dismissed them to begin warmup, “Omi-Omi… do… you need a mask?”

“No, I have some, thanks though.” His brow raised at the team, “why are you guys acting like this is the first time you’ve guys seen my face?”

Shoyo chuckles, “well Sakusa-san, this is the first time we’ve seen you enter the gym without a mask.”

Kiyoomi kept his composure and refrained from flinching when Kotaro’s face got really close to his. “What?”

The hyperactive silver hair narrowed his eyes at Kiyoomi, “are you feeling okay?”

Kiyoomi slapped his hand before it could touch his forehead, “I’m fine, what’s wrong with you all?” He walked towards the court grumbling, “hurry up and let’s start practice.”

.

Feeling his wife’s gaze upon him for some time, Kiyoomi finally asked, “what?” After his training session, he suggested going to the mall for dinner and some shopping.

When they arrived at the mall, Kiyoomi got out of the car without a mask and Y/n watched him with wide eyes as he made his way over to her side and opened the door. She didn’t say anything, thinking maybe he’ll put his mask on when they got into the mall.

But he did not.

Her cheeks flushed red, being caught. “Ah – are you… you sure you’re okay without a mask?”

He sighed and turned until he stood in front of her, “I’m fine. I promise.”

Following his initial therapy session, he came to the realization that change was necessary. It was time for him to venture beyond the confines of his comfort zone.

“Consider attempting or revisiting something that makes you feel uncomfortable but won’t cause any harm.” Dr. Kitagowa suggested before ending their last session. Kiyoomi thought hard about it and decided he will try to go out in public without a mask on.

He couldn’t recall the last time he ventured into public spaces without wearing a mask. It all traced back to when he contracted a severe cold from this desk mate back in elementary school. Ever since that incident, he had become accustomed to wearing a mask wherever he went. Moreover, his mother, being a nurse, had instilled in him the importance of good hygiene, further reinforcing the habit.

Y/n did not look convinced her husband was truly fine without a mask in public. She has never seen him go out in public without a mask.

He gently squeezed her hand, reassuringly stating, “I’m truly fine. Come on, let’s go to the new baby store. I’ve been eager to check it out.” He let out a sigh of relief as she didn’t press further, grateful for her understanding.

. . .

E/n: daddy and husband Sakusa is just something else...

>>> @pierroswife @queenelleee @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @chickflickjunkie @saikisho3 @sunawayx @vicolangelo @tsumu-senpai @famebydefinition @imnotjo @jojowantstocry @levistiddies

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader

[mysteria157]

Chapter 13

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~14.4k

CW: profanity, minor character death, angst, coping with grief

Summary: You and Nanami navigate through grief.

Notes: This is angst heavy and while I was so sad writing it, it’s my favorite chapter in terms of emotion. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <;3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

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It Had To Be You Masterlist

“Do you purposely style your hair that way?”

The corner of his eye twitched, irritation flaring in his gut from the source of the voice. He had tried all day just to get a semblance of peace.

Gojo followed him around most of the morning, chattering about something he had barely listened to. Geto had followed him, silent as usual but his presence alone only encouraging his best friend. Lunch was the only time he could find a secluded spot and just be alone.

The small oak tree next to the track field was easily overlooked; no one ever ventured that far unless they were there to exercise and even then it was quiet and tranquil. He thought he was safe.

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but I am pretty curious.”

He sighed slowly, shoulders sagging in resignation as he closed his book without making a new marker. There was no use in ignoring him, he had been followed by intrusive people all day and every day since high school began. If he could tolerate Gojo and his loud and smothering personality and still remain sane, he could tolerate anyone.

“Are you ignoring me? I won’t go away.”

Oh, how he wished the opposite.

The source of the voice was staring at him cheerily, brown hair dangling in the air and slightly comically large eyes twinkled in his direction, his entire face upside down as he hung from a low branch of the strong tree. An upside down eyebrow quirked in his direction, large mouth flashing at him as the source swayed slightly.

“The style seems intentional, but I’ve never seen a lot of people wear it that way.”

“Is there a reason why you care so much?”

A shrug, hanging arms pulling to accommodate the movement that would normally be performed rightside up.

“Are you sad?”

He folded his arms across his chest, eyes impassive and blank, a dark blonde eyebrow twitching as his irritation flared to life once more. He hated vague questions that left the answers open to interpretation. And while he appreciated the directness of the question, it was still invasive and unnecessary.

“Is there a reason why you have chosen to bother me? I don’t even know you.”

“I don’t know you either.”

He blinked at him in surprise, annoyance now joining the party and festering with his irritation, swirling together to create what would surely be a headache if he didn’t fix the situation quickly.

“I’m leaving.”

He made to get up, grabbing his book and throwing his bag over his shoulder. The man fumbled, his movements struggling from his haphazard form, arms flailing and face turning more red from the rush of blood to his skull.

“Okay I’m sorry! But its like you make yourself look broody on purpose! I had to know.”

He threw the man an exasperated look, the last fibers of his patience dissolving into the wind that had picked up around them both.

“It is not on purpose. It’s how I like to style my hair. Furthermore, I really do not have to explain anything to you.”

The man was quiet, large eyes flashing with guilt and flooding his face quickly. The sight was something he had seen on others frequently, but right now on his face, it felt foreign. Wrong. The guilt that had colored his features gave way to mirth, large eyes twinkling at him as he smirked.

“But you still did now, didn’t you?”

And just like that, he was done entertaining. He stood up, snatching his book from the grass and making for a start to the cafeteria. Maybe he could find an empty classroom to retreat to with what remained of his lunch break.

He ignored the yells of apology from the man behind him, closed his ears to the heavy groan as the man fell from the tree and plopped onto the dry grass, and kept his eyes forward even as the man jogged up to him, showing in his peripheral as he fell into step with him. The man didn’t speak for a while, the sound of grass and sticks snapping beneath their feet, the gentle hum of the wind around them sifting through the thin fabric of their clothes, the growing volume of chatter as they drew closer to the school cafeteria.

“I’m Haibara by the way.”

“That’s funny, I don’t recall asking for your name at all.”

He expected choked protests and loud shouts of playful indignation from his statement. It’s what always happened when he spoke to Gojo and sometimes even Shoko after they had pulled him too thin. They never gave up and always made it clear that his statements caught them off guard and only served as fuel to keep going, keep prodding, keep picking until he was red faced and teetering with frustration and annoyance. 

But Haibara remained silent, prompting him to look over. His large eyes were closed, hands shoved into the pockets of his black jacket, brown hair billowing from the wind and face turned up toward the sky as he soaked in the patchy sunlight from such a cloudy day. The relaxed smile on his face was hard to miss. Haibara looked like he was content to go about his day even if this interaction didn’t go well. Even if he never got his name, he would probably walk into the cafeteria with a smile on his face, sit next to his friends, and carry on about his day knowing he at least met someone new.

He didn’t understand it. 

“I’m Nanami.”

Haibara’s eyes popped open, his mouth dropping into a shocked ‘o’ as he realized he had struck paydirt. He looked over at Nanami, his already joyful face breaking as he smiled brightly in his direction.

“Oh ho ho we break the ice at last. Ooo! How about Nanamin? It really rolls off the tongue.”

“I will slap you.”

 ***

It was easy to get up and go to work every morning. It was easy to put on a pair of slacks and a button up, throw on a blazer and a crisp tie and shove his feet into nice shoes that he had worked hard for. It was easy to gel and part his hair, push the unusual glasses further up the bridge of his nose and slide on his Cartier watch before heading out the door and towards the office.

It was easy because the facts did not lie.

Everyone dies and time waits for no one.

Carry on.

Carry on even though Yaga had implored that Kento take a few weeks of bereavement. Carry on even though Gojo had hovered even more and his usual playful looks and comments were instead filled with sadness and worry. Carry on even though you had been nothing but supportive and caring and wonderful, trying your best just to let him know that he wasn’t alone, arms open to catch him when he finally decided to fall.

But it made no sense to fall.

It made no sense to take bereavement. What for? Yu wasn’t a family member or a partner. Taking bereavement was available to him because Yaga respected him, and Kento refused to set that precedent in the office. It made no sense for Gojo to change how he carried himself around Kento. Gojo and Yu were friends, but they were never as close as Yu and Geto. If anything, Gojo’s sudden decline obnoxious behavior only made Kento more annoyed, more angry, more anxious and he had refused to be around him even more than before.

He had thought it would be difficult to go about everyday tasks. It had only been a week but Kento acclimated like a fish to water and the mantra in his head kept him going.

Carry on.

And that’s why it was easy to wake up an hour earlier than usual and run in the cold Nakameguro air until his thighs were burning and his chest was aching and his mind could only think about regulating his heartbeat and nothing else. That’s why it wasn’t so hard to worry about eating when he realized he wasn’t hungry anyway. And even though he would sleep almost twelve hours every night, close his eyes and will himself to dream about getting through the next day, his eyes would be just as weary and heavy as the day before and it was easy to ignore the reason why.

He couldn’t think about it. If he entertained it, if his mind even drifted to that long day in the hospital, if he thought about the image of Gojo with his head in his hands, Kaya’s face soaked with tears and buried in Geto’s shirt as she sobbed ceaselessly, the sound of the Holter monitor incessantly beeping in his ears, if he had just one lapse in his thoughts he would snap. Because he was afraid of how he would react. He was terrified of the thought of sinking deep into a pool of sorrow and despair and never having the strength to come up for air.

He had to carry on. It made no sense at all to do anything else.

In only a week, the walls Kento had pulled up around himself were so thick that even you couldn’t get through. You had grown accustomed to his stoic and serious demeanor, because deep down you knew him. You knew that while he was a serious man who barely tolerated idiotic behavior and open ended questions, he was kind and reserved and sociable around those he felt comfortable with. You knew that the flat and relaxed line of his lips that he showed at work and in public would curl just a little for his family and friends, that his broad and tense shoulders would relax as soon as he was in the comfort of his home, that his direct and blunt words would soften the minute eyes he did not recognize were not on him.

You knew him.

You knew to expect a shift in his behavior the minute he walked through your door that night of Yu’s death. But you never expected a shift to such this degree. It was sudden, sharp and steep, throwing you off axis and making it so hard for you to right yourself.

His side of your bed was cold and empty every morning when you woke up, you were used to that though. He ran almost every morning, waking up at the crack of dawn to slip away into the cold. But he was always back by the time you woke; you were used to the sound of the shower running or pans clanging in your kitchen when your eyes fluttered open. But these past few days, you would already be showered and dressed, toast and eggs made for yourself and some for him and a cup of tea halfway done by the time he sagged through the door, covered in sweat and cheeks red from the cold air and his racing heart. He always smiled at you on his way to the shower, a small gesture that always filled you with warmth every morning, but lately only made your chest ache as you watched the muscles in his face curve but the look in his eyes remain just as dim as the day before.

He would kiss you on the lips and turn down breakfast every morning, using your pregnancy as an excuse to keep you from arguing with him.

It will help with your energy through the day. Don’t worry about me, I’ll grab something at the office.

But you knew he never did; you made Gojo snoop on him at the office to confirm. The white lie shouldn’t have bothered you, lots of people simply forget to eat because life gets crazy, but it only made the dread boil in your stomach, bubbling and thick and growing as each day passed and he buried his little lapses under the blanket of everyday routine.  

It was nauseating that he fell asleep next to you every night with an arm around you like everything was fine, upsetting that he kissed you on the lips before he left for work, troubling that he still went for morning runs, still cooked dinner, still talked about his day at the office. He did all of those things even though you could see the void of darkness in his gaze, the lack of subtle inflection in his usually even voice, the heaviness in his eyes every morning before he disappeared through the door.

It was as if he was trying so hard to go about his day as if nothing had happened, but his body displayed a different picture. Even though his actions were the same, his body only showed you the growing signs of despair, neglect, and sorrow festering beneath his skin, pushing against his epidermis and threatening to burst from the seams.

You had tried everything. Tried to talk to him when he was alone, tried to joke just a little to bring a smile to his face, tried to offer him any sort of affection just to break through the barrier of ice he had put around himself that he thought you couldn’t see, and nothing had worked. When you pulled him out of the house to get dinner, he could only take a few bites before feigning not feeling well with a gentle smile on his face, pushing his food toward you and beckoning you to eat. When you pulled him onto the couch to watch reality tv, he would only stare at the screen, throwing out usual comments that only felt rehearsed and empty. Even when you put a movie on, he would collapse in exhaustion almost immediately.

You knew to give him his space. Grief was never the same for anyone and the process for coping was a journey that each person had to take for themselves. You couldn’t force a reaction from him, it would either push him away from you completely or pull him into an array of emotions that would surely overwhelm him and surely overwhelm you; hearing a loud open mouthed laugh from him still jarred you due to how rare it was, how would you react when his actions stemmed from sadness instead of hilarity?

But you didn’t want him to run. Ignoring the reality of the situation would only make his grief all the harder to process, let alone accept.

The announcement from Kaya of Yu’s memorial came to both you and Kento’s phones a late night when he had managed to stay awake on the couch. Even though his eyes were empty as he looked at the screen, vivid hues and lights flashing in the reflection of his irises, his arm was still warm around you as he pulled you closer to him.

Per Yu’s will, he had outright refused a funeral and it only made sense. Someone as bright and happy as he was would have never wanted the people he loved to wallow and cry as they looked at his cold body inside of a casket. He had opted to have his ashes returned to the earth, buried in the soil under a reserved tree to help it grow and still be connected to things somehow.

He had meant for it to be a joke, a night of too much vodka with his wife before a child was in the picture and he had drunkenly purchased a protected tree at a ‘tree forest’ in Nakameguro with every intention to get his money back the next morning. But he never did. And when Aiko was born and he was forced to acknowledge his waning mortality, he realized keeping the tree would be a good decision in the long run. He hated the thought of rotting away six feet under the ground.

Chiyo and Santo replied in the group chat, offering their home for dinner and a small get together afterwards which Kaya responded with an enthusiastic yes almost immediately.

He was tense next to you as you finished reading the messages, his arm still warm around you but the muscles tight and hard against your skin. It felt as if a string had been pulled tight between you both, sharp scissors open and caressing the string, the sharpness of each side of its shears digging into the hair thin material.

And almost immediately he relaxed against you, hard muscles unflexing, the softness of his arms pillowing against your skin. You spared a glance up at him, smiling softly as his eyes locked with yours, his head already inclined down at you as you studied him. His hair was loose against his forehead, blonde strands messy and frizzy and beckoning for you to run your hands through them. His eyes were so cold, the natural light behind his brown irises completely extinguished. The light from the tv cast an almost eerie glow on his face, highlighting and sharpening his cheekbones, cradling the flat line of his full lips.

You wanted to shake his shoulders, pull his face into your chest and burying your hands into his hair and just allow him to let go. You wanted to stroke the hairs of his undercut, press a kiss to the sensitive spot on the underside of his jaw and tell him that it’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel like its unfair. He was his best friend and he needs him to grieve. It’s okay.

But instead you stroked his cheek with your thumb, the soft skin sliding against your fingerprint and your chest tightening as he inclined his head into your touch for barely a second before he stopped himself, the action making your heart lurch and stutter, a discomforting pain shooting down into your belly.

“I’ll probably go to my apartment tomorrow, I have not been there in quite some time.”

There was a slight hesitation in his tone, his eyes flickering away only a centimeter before they locked with yours again. You didn’t reply to him, continuing to stroke his face as your thumb traced down to the sharp cut of his jaw.

“Are you comfortable with me staying there for a few days?”

You tilted your head in confusion at his question, your thumb now caressing the soft skin of his chin, the rough pad of your finger grazing the small bumps of growing stubble.

“If that’s what you would like. Have dinner at my place and then go to yours? Wont that be a commute for you every day?”

One of his large and warm hands suddenly cradled your wrist, stopping the movement on his cheek as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed the skin of your palm.

“You misunderstand me. I would like to just be at my apartment alone.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp, his touch suddenly scalding to the point of discomfort. The action made his eyebrows pinch, fractionally and barely breaking his face, but still there.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Kento shook his head quickly, taking your hand again in reassurance. You wanted to pull it away, his touch was too hot, your mind moving too fast with irrational implications of his words.

“Absolutely not. I just…I need a little time to just be alone, by myself, with my own thoughts. It has nothing to do with you or anyone, I just feel unwell and unbalanced and I would like to be alone to figure that out.”

You bit the inside of your lip, the pain a welcome distraction from the sudden stinging in your eyes.

“Would you like to talk about it? If you don’t talk about what happened with Yu then—”

“I can’t.”

His voice was practically a whisper. Just two words that were filled with so much pain and so heavy that they weighed between you both, fluttering over to you and pressing against your chest.

This was normal. Let him grieve, give him time. It’s okay.

But it didn’t feel okay. It felt like he was only pulling further and further away from you, the ice around him thickening even more to the point where you couldn’t see him through it.

But you had to stay strong. You had to.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your palm again, his eyes flashing with a variety of emotions all at once before they washed away.

“I can’t talk about it. And I just—I need to have some time to get my thoughts in order, to breathe on my own and think. Just for a few days…at least until the memorial.”

The memorial that was a week away.

Oh.

Your ears were ringing, anxiety blooming in your stomach and seeping into your bloodstream, pumping fast and steady to your heart. The voices in your head screamed nothing but rejection. He wanted to be alone, to think.

Away from you.

No. No you wouldn’t let the thoughts win, you wouldn’t entertain the absurdity blaring in your ears. You blinked up at him, nodding profusely and offering a quick smile that only made the stinging in your eyes intensify.

“Of course. I understand. Just—just know that you can talk to me, Kento. I’m always here. Please don’t think you have to do this alone.”

His steady gaze analyzed the features of your face, taking in the slight misting of your eyes, the small pinch between your eyebrows, the subtle twitch on the side of your lip that wanted to pull into a frown.

He wanted to soothe you, wanted to brush away the discomfort and upset with his hands and his lips and reassure you that things would be okay.

But he just couldn’t. Because the thought of acknowledging his own emotions suddenly made him feel tired. So very tired.

“We should head to bed.”

His usually low voice was scratchy from underuse and strained from something you wanted to hope was sorrow. You wanted to hope the tone in his voice was the sadness finally breaking through and asking for your comfort.

But it didn’t matter, he wouldn’t tell you anyway.

***

“My dear, you’ve hardly touched your tea. I would like to think that I know you well enough by now to know that something is bothering you.”

Chiyo’s soft voice was a startling welcome to your steadily growing anxiety. It had been almost a full week since your talk on the couch with Kento. Almost a full week of one call a day and a few texts to get you by as you gave him the time and space that he needed. Every day you spent on the phone with him, you thought he would sound just a little less despondent. But nothing had changed. And you should have known that. You weren’t naïve to the process. No one should be able to process the grief of a loved one in such a short time.

But it was hard not to feel alone.

Her son’s eyes reflected back at you as you looked up at her, her black hair tied up into a sleek bun, her face freshly cleansed and shining from her rigorous skincare routine that you had gotten to see firsthand. It almost felt like Ome was staring back at you and while Chiyo’s eyes weren’t as alien and cutting as your best friend, they could still read every single emotion on your face with little effort.

Perhaps it was years of being a mother to someone like Kento that gave her the edge. Being able to raise a child as quiet and reserved as him probably gave her the blueprint to reading even the subtlest of cues in almost anyone.

But even still you didn’t want to tell her about your talk with his son a few days prior. She was too protective of him and would no doubt be at his door, begging to come inside and hindering any progress he might be making.

“Has Kento ever had to process grief? Before Yu?”

Hey eyes filled with understanding, dainty shoulders relaxing in her seat as she clutched her steaming mug of coffee closer to her chest.

“Unfortunately, no. Both my mother and father are still alive. Santo’s mother died before Kento was born. Kento has not really changed; he’s always been reserved and direct. He had no problem telling me and his father how he felt about things, because we raised him, we know every intricacy and nuance of our son and I think Kento knew that to pull up some kind of mask around us was asinine. But besides me and Santo…Yu was the closest person to him. I never thought I would see the day of someone else coming into my own home with my son, introducing himself and slowly worming his way into the quiet and well routined life that Kento had made for himself. Yu was just…so good. Everything about him was good and I think the fact that he could acknowledge his own shortcomings and his fears was something that mystified Kento and also encouraged him.”

Chiyo took a solemn sip from her coffee, her eyes suddenly downcast as she contemplated to herself and let the hot coffee slide down her throat.

“Kento for all of his strength and courage and wit, ran from the things that would expose him to the world. He hated the thought of willingly accepting that showing himself to the world might bring ridicule and judgement. In his mind, what was the point of the potential for being hurt if you never had to confront it anyway? It’s why he never went to culinary school, why he never opened a bakery, why he ended his relationships with women before they could get too serious and he would have to open himself up. Accepting vulnerability and showing himself to others who he would never know on a personal level has always been his weakness. And the one person who actually made him a little more willing to break that pattern is dead. I would give anything to bring Yu back, not only for his own family but at least so Kento wouldn’t feel the way that he probably does now.”

You sighed into your mug, the pressure of your breath putting a watery dent in your tea, the steam furling around the cup and hitting your face. You watched the water smooth out, your reflection coming into view as you glared at yourself in frustration.

“Are you going to tell me what’s happened?”

You blinked up at her, eyes a little misty from the steam on your corneas. She offered you a kind gaze, her smooth skin pulling into a soft smile, evaporating all resistance you were desperately trying to hold onto. Her expression only changed fractionally, her eyebrows furrowing in between intervals as you explained the conversation between you and Kento days before. She was quiet for a few seconds too long when you finished speaking, the silence of her large kitchen deafening as she blinked slowly at you, her black long lashes fluttering against her round cheeks before she sighed down into her mug and threw you a somber look.

“You have every right as the mother of his child to give him time in a span that feels comfortable to you. While I don’t think my son would hurt you intentionally, I do know that his emotions and behavior right now are things I’ve never witnessed before so I’m going into this blind.”

She reached across the granite countertop, grabbing both of your hands around your cooling mug of tea. Her hands were warm, as small as yours but radiating a motherly affection that you soaked up like a sponge.

“See how he’s doing at the memorial and go from there. You cant dwell on things that have not happened yet.”

***

The May wind brought a nice draft against the billowy fabric of your v-neck maxi dress. You had opted to pile your curls atop your head, tendrils falling from the hold of the bun and framing your face. Even though the cemetery was so large, the small array of trees reserved specifically for this purpose was a great spot, nestled away from others but not too far to be ignored. Even while drunk, Yu made a great choice. You were thankful that Kaya followed every wish of her husband to the exact detail. The memorial was intended to be intimate and it felt like just that. Your friends, his parents, a few coworkers from the bakery, his daughter and wife; all people who had grown close to him and got to see him for who he was.

Kaya’s words were a blur in the background as you pulled in a deep breath, your eyes drawing up to the canopy of trees above you, the sun peaking through the holes and patches of leaves that had weaved together. Despite the gravity of the situation, everyone seemed to be in high spirits. Gojo had whisked Aiko onto his shoulders, pulling a small smile onto her face as she grabbed fistfuls of his white hair. Ome was watching them both, her smooth features holding a soft smile as her grey eyes took in the sight of the man who has been the bane of her existence entertain a child. Shoko hung in the back, her typical dark shadows beneath her eyes for once covered up with concealer, her hands free of a cigarette as she leaned against a lone tree. Geto hung by Kaya’s side, a hand constantly on her back and soothing her in his own silent way, his typical soft smile only directed at her. Their relationship was a question that you would have to ask Kento. If he would just show up.

The thought of him not being here, of not being able to face Yu’s death, it made your stomach twist to the point of pain. You pulled in a quiet breath to calm your nerves, absentmindedly rubbing the side of your growing stomach and willing yourself to think positively just for today. You had to be okay, you had to be strong.

But you missed him. It had only been a week and even with the constant communication, you missed him so much.

The feel of a hand covering yours on your belly startled you, your eyes flying open as you turned to the source, ready to yell and smack whoever had decided to touch you without asking. But it was only Kento. Face soft, eyes still a little vacant, but that familiar soft smile as he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the skin in what was becoming a habit you were growing all too fond of. You relaxed instantly from the sight of him, your chest unclenching for the first time in days. His loose hair looked good, you couldn’t deny the flare of heat that swept down your spine as you admired him. Even though it was free flowing, his hair was even, without flyaway and freshly clipped along the nape of his undercut. He was dressed in simple black pants and a short sleeved black shirt, the leather of his belt gleaming in the sun. Even with the black Chelsea boots completing his ensemble, the heaviness in his stance made him look smaller and less commanding.

“You look lovely.”

You soaked in his words, taking in every last syllable from his mouth, breathing in the soft richness of his cologne, distracting you from the density of the situation you were both in. You wanted to ask him how he was doing, wanted to see if he would at least come to your home after the memorial, sleep in your bed for at least tonight. But you knew that wasn’t the goal, not right now.

You threaded your fingers through his, relishing the feel of your small hand in his much larger one as you gestured to the crowd around Yu’s tree. The space between his eyebrows pinched, the skin crinkling and pressing together. You took a step in the direction of the crowd, tugging softly on his hand and refusing to react as you felt his fingers tighten against you immediately, sharp and sudden, beckoning you to enable his need to keep away.

“Come say hi to everyone.” Your voice was soft as you looked up at him, offering a small smile as a means to smooth the crease between his brows. “I’m sure Aiko would love to see you.”

That seemed to do the trick as you felt his grip loosen against you, the crease lightening and his throat clearing as he took one step and then another towards the crowd, pulling you unconsciously with him. You followed silently, content to watch him go towards the pull of Aiko’s gentle call of his name, her mother’s hazel eyes shining down at him from Gojo’s shoulders as she lifted her hands, demanding his attention. He answered her immediately, yanking her playfully off of Gojo and blowing a raspberry into her cheek, her squeals carrying through the warm air around her father’s tree.

***

“How is he doing?”

Ome had been surprisingly calm with you these past few weeks. Maybe it was the fact that she knew her typically sarcastic behavior would not work well in the face of grief. Maybe it was the fact that she was too sad herself; she had hardly known Yu but she couldn’t deny that the sadness of others around her had seeped into her pores as well. Maybe it was the fact that you were pretty far in your pregnancy and she didn’t want to risk you ending up in the hospital because you had smacked her for being stupid. Or maybe it was just Gojo. Something had changed with them, shifted almost overnight and she had resolved to simply be supportive of him. Regardless when it all came down to it, she would never leave your side.

You sighed as you took a sip of the water she had brought you in your perch in the Nanami living room. Chiyo had brought the fabric rocking chair out again just for the occasion and practically demanded that you remain seated unless absolutely necessary. When you tried to protest, Kento had doubled down, his empty eyes still looking down at you with worry to the point where you rolled your own eyes and gave up.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Ome.”

“I want to say something, but I’ll be nice because you’re going through a lot.”

“How very gracious of you,” you scoffed, a small smirk growing on the side of your mouth as you glared at her. “I’m just trying to be supportive and I’m struggling. But I’ll get through it.”

Even in her simple black dress, modest and stopping at the tops of her knees, she was of course the most beautiful thing in the room. Gojo, who had normally made twelve passes at her by now had remained silent, his weird blue eyes constantly shifting to her across the room, transfixed in a way that he had long given up trying to joke around. She twirled a kinky curl from her loose hair around her fingers, lips pursed in contemplation before you watched the resolve fill her eyes.

“No one deserves you. I will always say that, I will always believe that. I’ll always protect you until my heart stops beating. But if there’s one man I would want to try and steal you from me, it’s definitely Nanami. He’s trying. Be patient with him, keep doing what you’re doing, and only do what you’re physically able. You’re having a baby soon and as much as you love him, you cant afford for something to happen to your daughter.”

Your ears were burning as you listened to her, the rest of her words fading into nothingness as you replayed what she said. Surely it was a slip of the tongue from her. You tried to rationalize the logic and unlikelihood that Ome would ever mess up with anything. It was rare for her and that only made the ringing in your ears blare louder.

“I can only assume from your blank expression that you went brain dead when I said you loved him? Do have some sense, babe. If I was a man who managed to sleep with you, get you pregnant, and got to be around the type of person that you are, I would be smitten as well.”

You glared at her, the ringing snapping from your ear drums as her sarcastically wrapped compliment made you fill with annoyance. She gazed back at you, eyes filled with mirth as she realized you had fallen so easily into her trap, your mouth opening in her direction and ready to snarl at her to behave.

“Ome, I really don’t think—”

“What is this? Why are you giving this to me?”

Kento’s voice was low and without any raise in volume, but in the quiet of his family’s house it carried over to you, filled with shock and a small hint of irritation. You struggled to your feet, ignoring the concerned looks of Yu’s parents while they entertained Aiko as you rushed past them and into the kitchen. All of your friends were crowded around the kitchen island, each person holding an envelope that looked as if their names had been scribbled on the front. Kaya’s hands were clutched to her chest, her face filled with worry as Kento outright scowled down at the paper in his hands. Geto hung by her side, an interaction that was increasing in regularity and only puzzling you more as he rubbed his hand along her back, his own eyes downcast.

“Kento…its part of his will. Yu wanted you to have—”

“How do you even know his will is recent?”

Kento’s voice cut Kaya off, even like usual but blistering with skepticism as he blinked wide eyed down at the contents in his hands. You walked closer to him, teetering on a tightrope between the atmosphere in the room and the emotions radiating off of him that you had never experienced and were not prepared for.

Kaya took an even breath, her eyes pained and remorseful as she swallowed the bile in her throat and shouldered on. You imagine she knew to expect this, had prepared for the variety of emotions that would come with distributing demands of a will. It was a heavy burden for her, to look at her husband’s wishes on paper when he had not even been taken from her less than a month. You couldn’t imagine the grief, the pain, the strength to even be standing and doing any of this.

“Yu updated his will last month, Kento. I can assure you it’s recent and your portion of what he wants has remained the same since he opened the bakery.”

Kento shook his head in disbelief, his eyes reading whatever document was in his hand over and over and over, trying to contemplate the validity of it before he was folding the contents hastily, a slight tremble in his fingers as he shoved it back into the envelope and held it out to Kaya.

“No. There is clearly a mistake here and I refuse to take this.”

“Nanamin—” Gojo tried to speak but was cut short by the menacing look Kento shot his way. Gojo was used to his friend’s glares of annoyance and exasperation, thrived off of it and used it as fuel to keep pestering. But he had never seen Kento direct outright rage his way, had never seen usually serious and stoic eyes harden like stone, piercing his freakishly tall form and forcing him to swallow and look away.

Anger and confusion emitted from Kento in waves, flooding the room and pouring down your throat, drowning you slowly and paralyzing your muscles as you looked at your boyfriend clearly for the first time in weeks. That raw emotion you had begged for was finally pushing against his skin from the inside out, splintering and spilling through the cracks.

Chiyo brushed past you, coming up to the side of her son, her eyes filled with worry as she pressed her hands into her sides, her fingers flexing and fighting the desire to rest on his arm. She could feel the hesitation just like you, the uncertainty of the situation, of the fact that her only child was displaying behavior she had never seen nor practiced for.

“Kento please.”

The sound of his mother’s voice made him flinch, thrusting the envelope through the air in Kaya’s direction with a little more force than necessary, the action making her jump and Geto’s hand immediately rest against the back of her neck to soothe her, his dark purple eyes shooting his friend a dangerous look.

Kento could care less, his body running on exhaustion and fury as he ignored the way his body began to shake, his fingers digging into the paper of the envelope, threatening to rip in his hands.

“I don’t want it Kaya. I don’t care what the will says, it’s clearly wrong. Yu was wrong.”

It was hurtful on so many levels, cutting through everyone in the room as Kaya blanched from his words, her eyes misting with tears. Geto’s eyes widened in shock before fogging over with an anger you had never seen before, his eyebrows pinching as he fought the urge to snap at his friend.

“Kento, that’s enough.”

Your words shocked even you as they left your lips, low and gentle but still filled with warning and admonishment. He blinked rapidly, dry and emotionless eyes faltering with flickering emotion that he was battling to keep buried inside of him. You could hear the heaving of his chest, the deep breathing from his nose as he tried to control his emotions.

He swallowed softly, eyebrows furrowing with guilt as he slammed the envelope down on the counter, the sound pulling another jolt from everyone in the rom.

He opened his mouth to speak, gaping as he tried to come up with words before he spoke softly.

“Forgive me Kaya. Excuse me.”

He rushed past you without even acknowledging your presence, an action that made your chest clench tightly with discomfort as you watched everyone in the kitchen clear a path for him as he strode purposefully from the room, unbridled rage seeping from every footstep as he opened the front door of his family’s home and left without another word, the door slamming shut behind him, rattling the paintings on the wall and shooting a shock through your body.

Even through the thin veil of tears in your eyes, your first action was to go to him, taking a step forward in the direction of the front door before Geto was softly grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. He had left Kaya in her spot, still rooted to the floor in shock as Gojo pulled her into a tight embrace.

Geto’s gentle eyes had lost that barrage of anger as he looked down at you, the corners of his lips uncharacteristically turned down into a frown.

“Leave him be. You trying to talk to him right now will get nowhere. Give him a few hours, come have dinner with us and then go see him.”

You wanted to pull away from him, to yank your arm back and chase after Kento anyway just to make sure he was okay. But you knew he was right, you knew you would get absolutely nowhere if you tried to talk to a man who you had never seen this angry towards the people he cared most about. And if he directed that anger at you, you probably wouldn’t have had the strength to shoulder through it.

So you nodded softly in agreement and drifted over to Kaya to console her as best as you could.

***

You were coiled tight like a wire as you knocked on his apartment door. Five long hours had passed since he had stormed from his parents house and not one word since. No text to say he was alright, no short phone call to apologize for his actions. Just radio silence and your nerves were in shambles.

Two minutes and no answer.

You could hear movement from the otherside, barely noticeable but still there to indicate someone was inside.

You took a deep breath, shouldering past the pain in the center of your chest and steeling what remained of your nerves as you raised your fist to knock again.

The door opened almost instantly, yanked from its hinges as the occupant inside came into your view.

The smell of alcohol, rich and expensive whiskey hit you like a freight train, shooting up your nostrils and down your throat, burning the muscle from the inside that you had to blink away the sudden prickle in your eyes.

His hair was in disarray, ruffled as if he had run his hands through it every two minutes. His cheekbones seemed sharper than usual; whether it was from the consequences of his reluctance to eat a full meal or the way his gaze down at you made him seem a little more menacing, you weren’t sure. Those brown eyes you were used to looking up into had almost been frosted with an overlay of grey and drunkenness, making him look so empty, so devoid of anything left inside of him. His shirt was untucked from his slacks, his leather belt nowhere to be found and his feet socked and free from his expensive boots.

You hated that even in his darkest moment, even when he was scowling down at you, he was the most handsome creature you had ever seen. Tall and dishevled, drunk and angry, even through all of it, the sharpness of his jaw had remained unchanged, the elegant curve of his nose had made him seem just a little bit more angelic.

You hated it so much.

“What is it that you need?”

It was a harshness that you were expecting but had hoped on the elevator ride up would not come to fruition. But you had to face the music now and try to shoulder through the hurt in your own body as Nanami Kento from the very first day of the marketing summit almost seven months ago spoke to you as if you were just another person at work.

Stay strong, you had to stay strong.

“I wanted to come and check on you. May I come in?”

His large pale hand gripped the side of his door, pulling it closer to himself and giving you the message loud and clear.

“No you may not.”

Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let it get to you. Stay strong. Stay fucking strong.

You rubbed the sides of your stomach, trying to soothe yourself and keep your anxiety in check and not bring any stress to the baby as you shook off the glare you wanted to throw up at him.

“Can you let me in please? You’re drunk, Kento—”

“Drunk or not, I’ve stated my demands quite clearly.” You refused to acknowledge the painful twist of your stomach as his words slid down to you. “I dont want to bring any stress to you or the baby, so please…leave.”

Your teeth dug into the sides of the dry tongue in your throat, your eyes stinging with every blink, shoulders faltering to display what remained of your wilting dominance as you lifted your chin up at him in defiance, silently commanding him to stop being stupid and let you inside.

But those stoic and straight eyes simply narrowed in return before he was stepping back into his apartment and slamming the door in your face.

Your eyes were wide with disbelief, your lower lids brimming with tears as the shock slapped you in the face. You had expected defiance, had expected him to smile through his pain and constantly insist that he was fine and he just wanted alone time. You had prepared for it.

You hadn’t prepared for him to be drunk out of his mind, talking to you as if he still loathed you, shooting sharp and painful indifference down at your shorter frame and outright rejecting the need to face all of this now. Tonight. In whatever form that would entail, he had to face some part of the reality of the situation.

The echoes of the door slamming replayed like a broken record in your ears, growing louder and louder with each passing second and bringing forth the emotion you had tried so hard to keep in check.

Rage.

It was only two weeks, you couldn’t force him to be a certain way. But the treatment you had just received was unjustified and unnecessary and painful to a degree that you would not tolerate it again. He could be mad at the world, but he would not rationalize the need to be mad at you. Not when there was too much at stake with a baby on the way.

Grief or not, drunk or not.

And if after tonight it meant that he never wanted to see you again, no matter how much you loved him you would know that you went out fucking swinging, by doing everything in your power to at least turn him in the right direction of a healthy path of recovery.

You knew this wasn’t the Kento that was real, even at his lowest, he would never have acted like this. And it only reaffirmed just how painful Yu’s death had been for him. How the one person he loved besides his parents had been taken from the world too soon, without remorse and in a way that was unfair.

But you would fix this, you would slap some sense into him even if that meant you had to strip his soul down until there was nothing left, forcing him to pick up the pieces correctly.

You were silently thankful that in his drunken stupor he had forgotten to lock his door. You yanked it open, one hand cradling your stomach and the other slamming the door shut behind you as you held onto that rage and confidence and bravery to see this through to the end. Kento was leaning against the sink in his kitchen, a bottle of Hibiki that you just knew had cost a pretty penny turned up to his mouth, the lip of the bottle pressed to his mouth in pause as he glared at the intruder of his home.

Recognition flashed through his eyes, his lids widening before they were narrowing to a deathly degree.

“Get. Out.”

The words were cold, chilly and icy as they slid across his hardwood floor and wrapped around your ankles, rooting you to the spot. Your anger had festered to an unprecedented level, pushing against the back of your throat with words tinged with a severity of harshness you hadn’t used on him in a very long time, making your heart race as you panted slowly through your nose, your gaze locked with his across the room.

“I said get out!”

Louder this time, uncharacteristically and shockingly loud, the decibles breaking the ice around your ankles and propelling you forward as you strode in his direction, taking in his seething form as he pulled the lip of the bottle from his lips and opened his mouth to sneer down at you before you were yanking the bottle from him, fighting against the sudden grip that he had around the bottle and grimacing from the contents that had sloshed through the lip and onto the sleeve of your dress.

Those words pushed harder in against your throat, sliding up the back of your tongue and out your mouth before you could stop them. The glare you sent his way could cut through glass, hard and menacing and pushing you to a side of yourself that you had not shown in years.

“Let go of the bottle Nanami. Now.”

The sound of his surname leaving your lips for the first time in months had him faltering, releasing his hold immediately and sagging against the counter as he watched you slam the bottle onto the opposite side of the sink, before you were turning around to collect the trash on his counter.

You were thankful that Kento was blessed with the liver and kidneys that he had. You had only ever seen him drunk twice since knowing him and Gojo had constantly boasted about his friend’s ability to drink anyone under the table if he was pestered hard enough.

But right now, the sight of the two empty bottles on his counter, the plastic from the seal of each litering the granite, it only made you nauseous.

But you wouldn’t show him that, you wouldn’t show him how much you wanted to cry because you were too angry to show that to him, too hard in your own resolve to put him in his place as you collected the bottles and plastic and threw them in the trash.

You turned the half empty bottle of Hibiki upside down, watching the amber liquid fall down into the drain of his sink as you snapped at him, your voice growing in volume.

“Is this how you want to handle your problems, Nanami? Hmm? If something happens to me or your parents and you’re left to care for your daughter, are you going to slither to a hole and drink yourself numb?! Snap at the people who care about you and turn yourself into a person that you don’t recognize simply so you don’t have to every face reality?! You want that?!”

You hadn’t yelled in quite some time, and the rattle of your throat as you spoke fueled your anger, fueled the desire to make him stop and see that he couldn’t continue down this path.

“No it is not, but I told you already that I don’t want you here. For the sake of—”

“SHUT UP!”

Kento’s stopped cold in his tracks as he reached for you, his eyes slightly wide from your yell. He had never seen you this way, even when you were glaring and indiginant when you both worked together, you had never yelled at him like this. Ever.

You ignored the fluttering of kicks in your belly from your daughter, clearly distressed of your voice and forcing you to calm down just a little for her. You slammed the now empty bottle onto the counter, ignoring the splintering of the bottom of the glass as you turned to face him, a finger pointed in his direction, another hand on your belly.

“Shut the fuck up, Nanami.”

He didn’t protest, his lips pulled into a thin line as he looked down at you. You grabbed his arm, trying your best to curl around his large and muscular bicep as you strongarmed him to his couch, ignoring his slightly drunken stumble as you pushed him down into his sofa.

“Don’t move. Don’t look in my direction. Don’t even speak to me unless its to say that you have to fucking puke. Do you understand me?”

His eyes were already locked on his coffee table, his shoulders heaving in indignation as he flexed his hands against the black fabric covering his slacks, mouth taut and eyebrows pinched in frustration as he conceded. You didn’t wait for another word before you were striding back into his kitchen, throwing the last glass bottle into the trash and yanking open his cabinets to search for food.

Every glance you spared his way was the same; he hadn't moved from his spot on the couch, hadn’t turned to look back at you, hadn’t offered any words as you made a few pieces of toast and miso soup.

He frowned in your direction as you set the food and glass of water down on the coffee table in front of him, full lips curling downward as he glanced over what you had prepared, his eyes blinking blearily to process what you were demanding of him.

“I’m not hungry.”

You shot him another glare, just as icy and jagged as before, yanking one of his hands to you and placing a piece of toast between his fingers, pushing it forward to press against his lips.

“I don’t recall asking you if you were. Eat and not another word.”

He took a slow, even breath, his glare losing its heat almost instantly before he was biting down into the buttered bread. You sat silently, your eyes locked on him with every bite, every chew, every swallow until both pieces of toast were gone. He shook his head as he looked down at the bowl of miso soup, his shoulders sagging as you felt the anger from before begin to evaporate into the air, exhaustion sliding up to bat and taking its place.

“I don’t want anymore.”

You grabbed a spoon, scooping some of the soup inside and holding it up to his lips.

“I don’t care. Eat it all.”

All hints of protest in his eyes were extinguished immediately, his mouth opening wordlessly as you pushed the spoon gently into his mouth and let him take over.

You made your way to his master bedroom. You weren’t surprised at the light brown walls of his room, casting it into a sort of comfort that made you want to climb into his own California King bed and rest your head against one of the long fluffy pillows and burrow beneath the grey duvet and sheets. His walnut headboard was so pristine and beautiful it looked as if he could have had it commissioned to be carved personally. You took a small second to admire the large bookcase on the opposite side of his bed, lining his wall with shelves full to the brim of books you had read your self and never heard of before. In the corner of his room and adjacent to the large wall of floor to ceiling windows, a comfortable black arm chair and ottoman was nestled in its own space, covered with a simple throw blanket and ready for use.

You wanted to trail your hands over everything in his home. In the time that you two had been together, you were hardly ever in his apartment. He wanted to be around you, loved the comfort of a home and that you were there in it, it made no sense to sleep in his apartment stories high above the ground. But you wanted to look through his simple walnut dresser, wanted to look through the long glass top case that held his expensive watches and turn over each small bottle of cologne. But you had a mission.

His bathroom was just as luxurious, marble floors, a floor to ceiling shower with a rainfall showerhead that looked as if it had been installed into the ceiling itself, a sleek large white tub and double vanity sinks. All of his appliances looked to be brand new, without blemish and exuding the type of lifestyle a man like Kento would live.

You turned on his tub, grabbing all the essentials you needed from his shower before entering his room again to find clean clothes and laying them on the bed. When you returned to the living room, his bowl and glass cup were empty, the man himself sagging into the couch, his eyes heavy and vacant as he stared at his black television screen. You felt the fluttering of your heart against your ribcage, painful and heavy, pushing away the anger just a little bit as you reached down for his hand and pulled him to his feet.

He didn’t fight you, didn’t try to hold himself down and instead wordlessly followed you through his bedroom and into the bright lights of his bathroom, the sound of running water filling his ears.

He was putty in your hands at this point, following your every silent command as you undressed him and guided him into the hot water. His eyes had lost all of their fight, his body giving up entirely to try and keep you away as he stared at the silver of the faucet, locking eyes with his own distorted reflection. It was a struggle to be on your knees and you couldn’t deny the twinge in your back was more annoying and painful than you thought it would be.

But you didn’t care. You had to soldier on just for tonight, blink through your tears just for tonight, fight through the urge to leave the room and sag to the floor and cry until things started to make sense.

You wanted to, god how you did.

But there was more at stake now. Not just Kento’s sanity but your own and the wellbeing of the child growing inside of you. If today would be the nail on the wall that would finally crack through the tether that held you both together, then you would do everything in your power to let him know that you loved him through all of it. Through the misunderstanding of when you first met, through the good and best times, and through the bad times of this moment. You would be happy knowing that you were there when he needed you.

He didn’t protest as you washed him, lifting his arms silently for you, letting you dunk his head beneath the water to wet his hair and blinked past the sting in his eyes when a sliver of his eucalyptus shampoo touched the edge of his eyelid. You dried him in one of his large fluffy white towels, combed through his thick blonde locks to prevent them from tangling as they dried, pulled a shirt and pair of boxers on his body, forced two more glasses of water down his throat and guided him into the open duvet of his bed.

The feel of his bed and the soft sheets hitting his body finally allowed him to acknowledge the heaviness in his eyes and the abating dizziness in his vision from the copious amounts of alcohol he ingested in only a few short hours.

For the first time since he had disappeared on his couch, his eyes finally slid up to look at you as you pressed a pillow a little more under his head, your eyes focused as you worked. He could finally see the red ring beneath your eyes, you had been crying or at least holding them back long enough where your eyelids were already inflamed. Your messy bun from earlier had been let loose, your curls falling over your shoulders and onto his sheets as you carded a hand through his bangs, pushing the locks from his eyes before you were leaning down and pressing a kiss to the skin above his eyebrows.

It was too much and even though he wanted to push you away and wallow in the dreadful silence of his home, he couldn’t bear to be away from you.

You made to stand, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table before one of his large hands was wrapping around your wrist, devoid of its usual warmth but pleading with you to not recoil from him.

“Stay,” he breathed out into the air, his cheek smushed into the pillow beneath his head. He watched your eyebrows furrow in contemplation, hesitance etching your features as you fought internally with yourself. He swallowed over the painful lump in his throat.

“Please.”

You sighed slowly, the slight beg beneath his deep voice pulling you to him like a siren’s call. You hadn’t expected him to speak again for the rest of the night. You had expected to leave and probably never hear from him for quite awhile. But as soon as he called for you, you knew you could never deny him.

You slipped off your dress, climbing into his large bed with just your panties and nursing bra before you were turning your back, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to him, the fabric of his soft shirt pressing against your semi-naked back. The cold tip of his nose wormed its way into the crease of your neck, one of his large hands twined with yours and just like that, he relaxed into the bed against you, his bones settling into the sheets and pulling him under.

***

He had slept thirteen hours, thirteen blissful hours. He had hoped he would wake up refreshed, and while he did, the pounding in his head immediately washed it all away and brought back every vivid detail of the day before.

He had already hated the idea of taking a week to himself. In his mind, he thought it was a good idea; take a couple of days alone to just think and get his bearings. But the minute he closed the door to his home after leaving yours, he knew it was a grave mistake. He spent every day staring out the long windows of his room, eyes barely blinking, mind trying its best to go back to that day but being stopped by his own sheer willpower that took every shred of his sanity just to quell. He had been just as much of a mess as before and the sight of you beneath the trees of the cemetery was enough to make him feel just a little better if only for a moment.

He had tried—was trying to convince himself that he didn’t need to acknowledge Yu’s death. It was fine.

Why dwell on things you couldn’t change?

But the subtle pull from you to immerse himself around his family and friends, the constant glances his way when others thought he couldn’t see, everyone’s sniffles and cries and words about what had happened, it was too much for him. Too overwhelming and real. He wasn’t ready, would probably never be ready as much as he knew he needed to be.

But the minute he opened that envelope addressed to him, his name scrawled in Yu’s chicken scratch and looking at the contents inside, he saw red. He saw red over what was inside, forcing him with no choice but to finally immerse himself in a reality he was trying so hard to run away from.

Kento was a composed man, while he was quick to be irritated in the face of others who held no sense, he had never lost control of his temper in the degree that he did in his parents’ kitchen, or in the way he spoke to Kaya, or in the way he spoke and treated you.

And you had faced it head on, rebuked every attempt he threw your way, yelled at him with a severity he had never heard and forced him to get himself together. You were so angry with him, calling him by his own surname to show just how little you were going to tolerate for the rest of the night.

If something happens to me or your parents and you’re left to care for your daughter, are you going to slither to a hole and drink yourself numb?! Snap at the people who care about you and turn yourself into a person that you don’t recognize simply so you don’t have to every face reality?! You want that?!”

The thought of his actions made him sick to his stomach. He could hold his liquor but he had never willingly gotten himself that drunk in ages. And even through the thick haze of his drunkenness last night, your words cut through him clean and sharp. The thought of acting the way he did if something were to happen with his family or if something happened to you…leaving his daughter to deal with her own father choosing to be angry at the world to avoid taking control. The thought made the nausea rise to an unprecedented level.

He wanted to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for you to forgive him when he opened his eyes. But your side of the bed was empty and the sordid thought that his behavior was the final straw for you, made his eyebrows pull together and his throat draw tight.

But the sight of his door opening and you slinking inside with one of his t-shirts on, a glass and painkillers in your hand was enough to have him exhale in relief.

You sank down into the bed next to him and shoved the medicine and water in his direction. He took it without complaint, downing the contents of the water and pills before setting it on the bedside table behind him. He was quiet for what felt like an eternity, his eyes locked on his large hands in his lap, fingering and pinching the soft texture of the duvet that covered his legs.

“Me and Yu got into an argument…at the baby shower when everyone was cleaning up. He had pulled me to the side and brought up co-owning the bakery with him again and we bickered about it for a few minutes. He knew how I felt about it, knew that my opinion wouldn’t change and still pried and pried and pried to the point where he ‘hinted’ at forging my signature on the deed. It was a joke of course but at the time, it only made me furious. All other times when we had this conversation I could play it off or divert it to something else, but this time I was so angry that I told him to find someone else, to never bring it up again and that my stance wouldn’t change.”

You remained impassive as you listened, resting a hand on his back and stroking softly to comfort him as he spoke, his eyes still locked on his hands below him.

"I think it was the first time I had ever seen him angry with me and we left that night without speaking to each other. Or the day after that, or the day after that until—” He stopped short, clearing his throat to disappate the tight clench of his throat.

“I don’t believe in Karma. This entire world is filled with terrible people who do evil and vicious things but also hold power and live in luxury and never face the consequences of their actions. I’ve never believed in something so vast and grand happening to me and altering my entire life based on a small interaction or choice that I made that was infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things. But ever since that day, its all I can think about. It was the last thing he heard—the last words I said to him and I tell myself over and over that maybe this was my consequence for hurting someone as good and as pure as Yu.”

You shook your head through the increasing darkness in his words, stroking his back harder to keep him sane, to make him see reason.

“Don’t say things like that Kento, it’s not true—”

“Yu was a good person. Even when everything was falling around him, he never faltered, he never turned away. He was the only person I knew who could look his fears in the eye, accept his own flaws and never bat an eyelash. He forced me to accept him because it only made sense, everyone should be able to see a person like him. He was deserving of everything; his family, his wife, his daughter, his career. It makes no sense.”

He shook out a sharp breath, a hand threading through his hair as he ignored the racing of his heart, the sweat on the back of his neck, the fraying of his nerves as he soldiered on.

“Do you know how he died? A fucking car hit him. He saw a girl playing in the street and a car that was going almost fourty miles an hour because the driver was looking at his phone hit him as soon as he pushed her onto the sidewalk. Just like that. How do you believe that to be fair?” You could tell he was running on low embers as he spoke, his cheeks ruddy and eyes piercing as he looked over at you.

“He was doing just fine in the hospital. By some miracle the surgery was a success and he expected to make a long but full recovery. I told myself that I would wait until he woke up to apologize to him…and he was awake when I stepped out to get some air. But by the time I had made it back to his room, not even five fucking minutes later, there was—everyone was yelling and running around, defibrillating his chest over and over and over and he just…didn’t wake up. Even when I was given a shred of time to right my wrong, I had missed the mark. I couldn’t think about that day, the very thought of it filled me with so much despair that I could hardly do a simple task. So I did what I do best and I ran. I ran and hid and put on an empty smile for weeks until I opened that fucking envelope and saw the deed to his bakery inside with my name on it.”

You already knew the contents of that envelope, you had let your curiosity fester as you took it from Kaya’s hands after leaving Chiyo and Santo’s house and had looked inside and read the deed and the letter addressed to Kento during a moment of weakness when you were cleaning his house this morning. You shouldn’t have invaded his privacy, but you had rationalized that you needed to know everything to effectively help him. You could forgive yourself later.

“I spoke to him so severely. I know this isn’t about me but a large part of me cant help but think that I may caused this. That my actions set something in motion, a twisted fate that I was bound to face.”

You wouldn't stand for the way he was talking, putting himself down for something that was out of his control. You cradled his face in your hands, your small palms barely eclipsing his cheeks, your fingers bending slightly from the sharpness of his cheekbones. His eyes were still a little empty, less tired than yesterday and a little more lively from the emotional tirade he was on, but still empty.

“You didn’t cause anything, Kento. You probably wont agree with me on this but I’ve always held the notion that everything…happens for a reason. As morbid as some of those facts sound in my head, I use it to bring me some semblance of sanity even during my darkest moments.”

You watched your own thumb stroke the soft skin of his cheeks, the action making his eyes flutter just a little as he listened to you.

“Yu wanted nothing more than to help others and make them feel good in a way that he knew how, baking. Owning a bakery that while small in its stature compared to other businesses, still brought everyone who walked inside of it just a little bit of happiness through their day. He’s always worked with that purpose in life and part of me wants to think that the little girl he pushed out of the way probably reminded him of Aiko. Because to him, he was good at being an amazing father and only he knew how to keep her safe. I’m sure that’s what was going through his mind before he got hit. And even on his deathbed, Yu for as wonderful and as kind as he was, could never hold any sort of animosity towards you. No matter what you tell yourself.”

Kento relaxed into your hold, sagging his shoulders in exhaustion as he listened to the finality in your tone

You reached to the bedside table and pulled the envelope from inside one of the drawers, the sight of it making Kento tense immediately as you opened up its contents and laid them on the bed between you both. Two folded papers, a deed and a note that Yu had inscribed to him. You unfolded the letter and placed it gently into his hands, pushing further into his chest.

“Read it. Please.”

Kento’s eyes analyzed yours, pleading with you as he realized he had finally been backed into the corner of the room he had stupidly locked himself into. He couldn’t argue with you. He couldn’t run from this. Not anymore.

He bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste the twinge of copper on his tongue as he looked down at the letter.

Yes, I wrote this as soon as you left the baby shower because I realize it needs to be done if you continue the way you are. I don’t care how angry you are, this bakery is yours. You’re the only man I have ever met with such talent but is so afraid to harness it to its full potential.

I’ve spent most of our lives making you see the other side of things and I need you to realize how much Nakameguro should see you. 

No more excuses. No more running. Leave that boring job and do what you love before you regret it for the rest of your life.

You’ve got millions in the bank, a banger of a girlfriend, a beautiful baby on the way, and friends who love you.

As you always say to me no matter how many times I try to tune it out, ‘not doing the obvious when all of your options are clearly laid out for you would be asinine.’ 

If I ever croak in some weird ass way (pause for silence if this is the fucking case), I will make sure my family and our friends shove this deed down your throat until you pass it a week later (or sooner idk your schedule) and you’re forced to accept it like you know you want to. 

I bought this bakery with the intention of us both running it until we are old and grey, with you running the show in your own straight faced way like you always do. 

Well its yours now, just like I’ve always wanted. Please take it, Kento and let it grow.

- xoxo (I put ‘xoxo’ here for dramatic effect. I truly hope you're red faced and cussing as you read it)

-Yu 

You had remained perfectly still as he read over the letter, his brown eyes tracing every letter of Yu’s appalling handwriting until he memorized it word for word. His face didn’t falter with emotion or break down into tears like you had imagined it would. He was still impassive, still stone-faced, still indifferent as he folded the letter carefully and slid it back into the envelope before turning his frame to you silently.

You wrestled with the words in your mouth, twirling them with your tongue in hesitation before you ultimately decided that it couldn’t get any worse than this moment.

“Before I met you and all of your friends, it was just me and Ome. And I knew that if something happened to her, I would have no one. Rory, I would have sure, but it wouldn’t be the same. No one understands me like Ome does and the thought of her being taken from me like Yu has from you is something that is almost inconceivable in my head. But, I have more people in my life now. People that care about me and would do anything to make sure I don’t fall.”

You cradled the side of his neck, rubbing the skin beneath his jaw gently and using the feel of him to steel your resolve.

“I know that you cannot force a certain way of grieving someone. But you have people in your life Kento who cannot afford for you to run away. Not like this. As much as you can't stand Gojo, you know he would tear down an entire building complex in rage if something were to happen to you. You have Geto and Shoko who grew up with you and want nothing more than to help you through this. You even have Yuji, who sees you almost like an older brother, who looks up to you, who wants to be just like you. You have your parents who love you. You have Kaya and Aiko who would be inconsolable. You have so many people in your life who will catch you when you fall, who want to do that. Because they all know just how much Yu meant to you and how much you mean to them.”

You could feel his pulse beneath your thumb, picking up speed and making his own chest heave a little quicker with each breath that he took.

“Do I have you?”

It was such a simple question that you were surprised he would ask you. The answer should have been obvious, but from the gentle crease in between his brows you could tell that he needed to hear anything right now. Anything to let him know that you weren’t leaving since he clearly wanted you to stay.

“Of course you do. As long as you want me to stay, I will never leave…but I need you to promise me you’ll stop running. I need you to promise me that you will try. That deed isn’t going anywhere and you don’t have to think about it today, or tomorrow, or even a month from now, but you have to try and acknowledge what has been given to you. For me, for your daughter…and for Yu.”

You offered him a small smile, it was the best you could do as you struggled with the urge hold back the tears threatening to pool in your eyes. Your lids were stinging with every breath you took, inhaling the rawness of the situation in the room, the vulnerability he had freely shown to you yet again. Now that he was finally facing it head on, he had no choice but to let the brevity of the situation cut him open and every single emotion he had been trying to hide for weeks begin to bleed into the room.

You didn’t widen your eyes as you watched the grey overcast of his brown gaze finally lift, every single emotion he had been hiding flooding his irises and making his brow furrow in pain. He exhaled sharply, the sound forcing through his lips and heaving his chest with such strength that you thought he wouldn’t breathe again. The twitch at the corner of his lips was hard to miss, a slight quirk of his muscle that wanted to twist the features of his face as he took another heaving breath and then another, the sound more shaky than the one before. You didn’t speak as he leaned forward to rest his head against your shoulder, his breathing picking up just a little in speed as he tried and failed to get his bearings.

You acted in the only way you knew how in that moment, picking up a hand and carding it through the soft blonde tresses of his hair, the touch of your fingers on his scalp making him jump and flinch, his forehead pressing harder into your shoulder.

“It’s okay, Kento.”

The whispered words seemed to be what he needed to hear, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer into his chest as he breathed shakily into the fabric of your shirt. The other hand not in his hair smoothed along the planes of his back, caressing the shaking muscle that you realized wasn’t rising from breathing.

The sharp dig of his fingers into the skin of your back was the first indication that something had changed. The slight jolt of his chest as he exhaled shakily against you was another. But it was the feel of the shirt on your shoulder sticking to your skin that let you know what was really happening. You could feel it dampening further, soaking along the manufactured stitches as he collapsed further and further into you, using you as an anchor in whatever way that he could as he silently fell apart in your arms.

For a man as tall and broad as he was, the tears into your shirt made him feel even more overwhelming, his previously held back emotions almost drowning you as you blinked away your own tears and stroked the skin of his scalp.

“I wont ever go. We wont ever leave you, I promise. I—”

You stopped your self short, continuing to stroke his hair and back as your mind scrambled with the words you had almost let slip from your mouth.

I love you too much.

You had said it a few times to yourself these past two days, a blip in your mind as you worked around the mess and anxiety and rage from getting your boyfriend together. But now that the dust had finally began to settle, now that he had finally been turned in the right direction and pressed his fingers further into you to keep you close, now you could finally hear those words echo in your head without nothing else to distract you.

I won’t ever go. We won’t ever leave you, I promise. I love you too much.

I love you so much.

You blinked away the swimming in your vision, tears slipping through your bottom lashes and down your cheeks as you stroked the hard muscles of his back and the thick hair on his head.

Kento took another long and heaving breath against you, turning his forehead to rest his cheek instead on your shoulder, his eyes tracing the subtle lines in his walnut headboard as he pulled you closer until he could feel the brush of your belly along the planes of his abdomen.

The feel of you against him, the slide of your fingers in his hair and along his back, your words sifting into his ears and pulling that odd feeling in his chest that he had spent months trying to figure out front and center, it was all he needed in that moment. He blinked blearily against the cool air of his bedroom, his blonde lashes wet and his head finally beginning to calm down for the first time in weeks.

#Nanami kento #Kento nanami #Nanami Kento x reader #Nanami Kento x black reader #Nanami Kento x black fem reader #nanami x you #Nanami Kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #It Had To Be You #mysteria157 #anime x black reader #Nanami Kento fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk x black reader #Nanami Kento smut #jjk au #masterlist #It Had To Be You masterlist #jjk angst #nanami kento angst #Nanami Kento x reader angst

[lilydoeswrite]

lily on writing!

(obviously i’m in no position to give writing advice or tips but this is just what has helped me and maybe it’ll help you! take these lightly!)

crappy sentences will help

this is something i do whenever i lack the motivation to write but have ideas flowing that i don’t want to forget. basically, write them in crappy sentences. it doesn’t matter how bad they are, as long as you’ve put the idea down on your document. then, when you’ve found the motivation to write, turn those crappy sentences into better sentences or paragraphs and expand on those ideas!

just keep writing

this is something very subjective and defers from person to person but i really find this helping me. this is basically writing even though you don’t feel like writing. getting started is usually the hardest part and it is, so to help cope with that, i give myself as much time as possible to write down the first few words and sentences of a paragraph. if there’s anything that writing has taught me is that patience is virtue so i give myself time to figure out the first few lines. usually, i still manage to write things of good quality when i give myself time to do so even when i don’t feel like writing and it gives me a boost! i aim to at least write everyday except for my rest days :)

go back to the drawing board

this helps me when i have no idea what to write or how to get started. this can be done anywhere, on a sheet of paper, on a document, for me i use the whiteboard in my room. this is basically brainstorming your story/chapter if you have no idea what to write or how to get started, maybe even if you have no motivation! slowly, you can start to map out your story/chapter and as you link idea with idea, it’ll really help you get started on writing that story or chapter of yours!

songs, songs and songs

put on some fun music! for me, i usually create playlists or use the ones on youtube. why i say this helps is because it puts you in a better mood and i’ve found the better of a mood im in, the better it is to write. this also makes writing more fun because it’s like a half writing session half music session! also, certain lyrics might inspire you with your writing!

#writing #writers #writeblr #take this with a grain of salt #idk if this makes sense #but yeah #writing help #writing advice

[hopepaigeturner]

Eloise is definitely not ready for her season.

Apologies anon, for not answering this sooner. But I didn't just want to give a short answer like the one above. And over the weeks I've worked out another reason why Eloise shouldn't be S4.

Show Eloise, doesn't have the capacity to emotionally support Phillip and the manifestations of his trauma.

Basically I've been writing this piece about married Benophie that revolves around how Sophie’s trauma manifests itself within their married life, (in big ways and small) and how Benedict copes with this. E.g. Sophie being triggered by dropping something, or her first Christmas with the Bridgertons. For this I’m drawing on my knowledge both personal and professional and something really struck me.

To support someone with trauma you need empathy, patience, emotional intelligence and humility. You’re never going to get everything right, but having such skills will help. (yes empathy/patience etc. is a skill it is not an inherent trait).

You need patience when the one you love is being overwhelmed by their past or their emotions. You need empathy to understand the root to some of their actions, how your loved one might not be lashing out at you but at something that links to their trauma. You need emotional intelligence to work out the best way to emotionally support your loved one. You need humility to realise that you might get things wrong, or that you might be contributing to the problem and need to shift the way you do things to accommodate. And so much more, and in so many other ways.

And bless Eloise Bridgerton—she ain’t got many of these…yet.

Eloise is intelligent, yes, she is passionate and loyal and protective of her loved ones…but not when it comes to emotions. We actually see a lack of this when it comes to Eloise who is impatient, can’t empathise with other’s struggles and always likes to have the last word.

Yet Eloise, like Benedict, is going to love and support not only a traumatised man, but also two traumatised children. She ain't ready for that...But she can be.

Giving Eloise two seasons will allow her to soften, not only become a better feminist who respects all women’s dreams, but also to become someone who will be able to support Phillip. She can learn empathy by trying to put herself in Penelope’s shoes in S3. She can learn empathy from Sophie in S4. She can learn patience when she starts publishing her Whistledown column/novel. Purely having two seasons will allow the writers to quietly show Eloise maturing in general, as one does with age.

Ofcourse during her season this maturing comes to the fore when she is faced with Phillip and the twins. Here shall be the biggest learning curve for her, however, allowing S3&4 to build some groundwork for this will help ensure that viewers do not feel as if ShowEloise is being shoved into a role she does not suit.

And meanwhile…

Benedict has shown emotional intelligence and empathy on the show. Benedict is a classic caretaker-with-a-capital-C. He already has the temperament to help Sophie emotionally heal from her trauma during, and after, their season. Yes, he needs to learn to get into conflict and fight for the one he loves, but ultimately, he’s ready.

So yes, Eloise is not ready for her season because she needs to develop her feminism and to understand the full scale of her privilege. But she also needs to grow emotionally to ensure the viewer can believe Eloise is right for Phillip--and we as a viewer need to be patient for that to happen...

#hope answers #eventually #apologies for the wait! #eloise bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #phillip crane #to sir phillip with love #bless Eloise she's not quite leading lady #yet #bridgerton #is this another petition for benophie s4? #perhaps...

[celestie0]

hiii🧍🏻‍♀️kickoff loves……..ummm very unlikely i will have next chap out this weekend 😭 i spent most of my freetime scrolling thru tiktok in bed this week to cope w pms fatigue 🌧️

i rly don’t wanna rush writing it and put something out i’m not happy with since it usually takes me a week to finish a chapter :”) so i’ll just say with certainty it won’t be out within the next couple of days

i will set time aside to work on it though so i can get it out as soon as possible!! i’ve got all the scenes planned out n decided n everything so it’s just a matter of writing it!! 🤧

appreciate the patience 🫶🏼💞

MY BAD

#i pretty much just went to work and then rotted in bed this week #imma channel my pms angst into writing this chap tho for sure #kickoff

[spacelazarwolf]

making a separate post but like. i don’t think some of y’all understand how genuinely traumatizing it is to have undiagnosed (or even diagnosed) adhd and go through school as the lazy stupid kid. i’ll tell you a little bit about what school looked like for me.

when i was in second grade, my teacher used to drag my desk up to the front of the class in the middle of lessons if i tapped my pencil or bounced my knee. she wouldn’t let me talk to any of my friends, and wouldn’t let me read my books when i was done with my assignments and was waiting for everyone else to finish. she would berate me in front of the whole class until i cried. her treatment of me got so bad my parents had to pull me out of school.

when i was in fifth grade, my teacher gave out “assignment alerts”, bright orange pieces of paper that indicated you’d forgotten to turn in an assignment. i was given dozens of these papers, and they started to build up, so it was harder to hide them. she would give these out in front of everyone in the middle of class, and she always made sure that when it came to me everyone knew i had the most. she would mock me in front of my classmates for my inability to keep up with homework and said that because my test scores were good it was because i was just lazy and didn’t care.

when i was in seventh grade, my teachers made me come up to the front of the class at the beginning and end of the period so they could inspect my assignment book and sign it, in view of the rest of my classmates, and announce whether or not i’d done my homework. when i inevitably forgot about assignments, they would berate me in front of the class.

when i was in high school, i wasn’t allowed to try to test into higher level classes because my teachers had decided that even though i did well on tests and papers, i wasn’t intelligent enough to take them because i couldn’t keep track of my assignments and deadlines. I was told over and over again that i was just lazy, and anytime i tried to explain what i later learned were symptoms of adhd i was berated and told i was making excuses.

when i was in college, i failed two classes my first year because i couldn’t keep up with the deadlines. the day before my second year, my best friend died, and i stopped going to classes. my teachers didn’t connect the dots because they assumed based on the previous year that i was just lazy and didn’t care about school. i failed several classes that year and never got the mental health assistance i needed, and my reputation at the school was pretty much shot. one teacher even went out of his way to try and fail me because he didn’t believe i deserved a degree. he tried to claim i’d plagiarized one of my papers to put a mark on my transcript. luckily he didn’t or i may have had to drop out. i had to do an extra year to make up for all the classes i’d failed, and barely graduated.

i did end up dropping out of my attempted masters degree (the only school that would take me with such a low gpa, and the only school that offered no scholarships or assistantships) because all of the teachers refused to give me any sort of accommodations, noting my bad grades from undergrad. i was given no patience or grace, my disability was not respected, and i had to drop out.

these experiences (which are just a handful of many) were so traumatic that they gave me diagnosed ptsd. i’m almost 30 and i’m still in therapy learning to cope with the horrifying levels of self hatred, anxiety, and dysfunction that my academic experiences gave me. i’m still learning how to even begin to function and take care of myself after i was told for so long by people who were supposed to help and support me that i didn’t deserve to succeed.

i fully understand how stressful it is to mask your neurodivergence in order to succeed, and how that can affect your mental health. i understand the high levels of anxiety and dysfunction in former gifted kids. i get that, and i respect it. but i’m honestly so tired of ppl trying to say there’s no difference in that experience vs. mine. that someone who had a 4.0 all through high school and college and got a good job is just as materially affected as someone who couldn’t just push through, who couldn’t make it through higher education, who couldn’t graduate high school, who can’t hold a job at all.

these experiences are all valid but they are DIFFERENT. and when the only people i ever hear about when talking about adhd are the former gifted kids, it makes me feel so incredibly alone. and maybe if there were a greater variety of voices and experiences that were showcased, people like me wouldn’t feel so isolated and self-critical. maybe we’d realize that we deserve grace and kindness too, even if we didn’t get to be the gifted kids.

#adhd

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Star Wars Rant - Take 2!

Guys. Guys, I’m sorry. I had a thought on the way to work today… and now I’m going to force it upon all of you, too, so that at least I won’t suffer alone.

Kaminoans do not value emotion. They value perfection. In fact, the social demand for genetic perfection is what led them to cloning and thus gave us our lovely copy/ paste cornucopia of delicious potential for OCs, wartime angst, and brotherly shenanigans. We know each clone ended up developing a unique personality even as cadets, but imagine the first batches. They didn’t have older clones to look up to, to learn that becoming their own person was okay. They had asshole mercenaries, the legendary original source for their DNA, and, most abundantly, the Kaminoans to raise them.

Children learn through mimicry. They see their guardians interact with the world, and that’s the initial outline for who they become. If they spent most of their time around the Kaminoans, that means they would likely view emotions as a detriment, with some interplay offsetting that from Jango and the mercs.

Fast-forward a couple generations to the discovery and implementation of said clones, during which time the Kaminoans have likely done away with anyone who strayed too far from their ideal soldier, furthering the general understanding that emotions are dangerous and something to be stifled. Then, suddenly, here are these Jedi Generals who fall all over the emotional spectrum! Shaak Ti shows them compassion. Yoda shows them acceptance (and chaos, let’s be real). Anakin shows them fun (also chaos. So much chaos). Obi Wan, the biggest flirt in the damn galaxy, just completely upends whatever textbook definition of romance may have been briefly taught to “prepare” them as cadets.

What I’m really getting at, though, is that clones were brought up without love. They were created by a race that pretty much bred out any tendency toward affection, trained by a man who regarded them as lesser copies of himself, and *decommissioned* if they displayed too much independence (I know there are caveats to this, such as Alpha-17 and the CCs, but they had much less patience for the CTs). And here are these Jedi who love in such a blindingly open and overwhelming way. How do they cope with that? How do they not become insanely loyal to these kind, generous beings that don’t treat them like numbers for the first time in their lives??

And then there’s the other side: the squads that have the misfortune of being paired with Jedi less prone to  that innate goodness, the squads trapped with Krell and Ki-Adi-Mundi. They never get the chance to feel valued as anything other than a tool. They may have heard the word “love” but would never be allowed to experience it, platonic or otherwise…

I don’t have any grand ending thoughts here beyond the absolute tragedy that those men suffered, but I will say, it does tempt me with some utterly angsty and beautiful thoughts for emotionally crippled clone OCs and emotionally traumatized reader OCs accidentally find each other through various whumpee ways… be a shame if someone was inspired by this and tagged me in whatever may or may no come of it...

#staycalm talks #staycalm rants #again #everything about the clones is just heartbreaking okay? #star wars #star wars rant #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tcw #sw tcw #emotional baggage

[babyhatesreality]

I’m not sure if something like this ever happened to you: but when you are really really tried or just have something else in your mind… sometimes you forget things and go looking for them even though you have them literally by yourself 😂😅 (looking for you glasses while wearing them hapen to me so often 🥲)

Could something happend to Steve and Bucky to or even their little one? 😃

Darling!! Great question :D (PS thank you for your patience my angel)

So...sort of. It happens to Steve and Bucky, but not to you. And it drives them nuts. Because you never forget ANYTHING.

You have an almost supernatural gift for finding their stuff, mostly because (and you're not even consciously aware of this) you seem to have a radar as to where they are at all times if they're in proximity to you and you're awake.

Steve has a habit of setting down whatever is in his hands if something big grabs his attention. And, being Captain America, that could mean anything from hearing you squeal and he's not sure if it's a scared squeal, to his mission communicator going off, to a news story suddenly popping up about someone being in trouble, to a missing dog poster. If he senses a mission that needs him, he almost goes into autopilot to help. On good days, Bucky jokes that it's the Cap version of his Winter Soldier programming which often earns him a scathing glare. When the problem is solved, Steve'll try to go back to what he was doing before, but can't remember where he set stuff down.

You can basically retrace his steps from memory and find whatever it is. To you it's the best treasure hunt ever and you love it. While he's always grateful and rewards you for helping, and genuinely loves that it makes you so happy, it drives him bonkers that he can't remember where he put the thing down in the first place.

Bucky has a little more of an excuse- there are holes in his brain from Hydra that will never fully be gone. He's done a lot of work to deal with these issues, including finding coping mechanisms to help him remember little details. That's what drives him nuts. Sometimes when the big stuff slips, he can begrudgingly accept it. It's the little stuff, the innocuous and unimportant stuff, that drives him mad. And he legitimately tries not to get down on himself when something slips through the cracks...but he's never been self-forgiving.

You don't realize exactly what's going on with him- why he gets so gloomy when he can't remember where he put his book down when he just had it. You just know that when you play with him, he gets happy and isn't gloomy any more. So if he's all frowny trying to find something, you go into full-on Private Baby mode. It becomes a critical mission to find it, and you'll run to your room and put your doggie tags on and a bicycle helmet and Papa's big brown leather coat (which is about 4000 sizes too big for you) and come out barking orders like you're a drill sergeant, determined to find the missing object and not resting till you do. It always breaks Bucky out of his funk, and he'll usually join in the mission (which often includes getting bombarded by pillow bombs, having to belly crawl down the hallway, and spying on Papa to make sure he "hasn't gone rogue").

They like to privately joke (when they're not annoyed at themselves for losing stuff) that you're better than St. Anthony. After you find something, they lovingly tease each other that St. Katie Cat has won the day again.

#daddy!bucky #daddy bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy stucky #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy steve #daddy!steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve rogers #daddy steve x little reader #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers x little

[bookish-whore]

Falling Part IX

Azriel x Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Discussions/Allusions to SA, Self-Deprecating Thoughts, Lots of Cursing.

A/N: Hello Lovelies! Thank you all for your patience with this chapter it has been a crazy two weeks for me. Considering we are on Chapter 9 now I can safely say that this fic will be a bit longer than the 10 chapters I initially anticipated (oops). Thank you all for your continued support on this story and as always, my requests are open and I am slowly making my way through them!

My Masterlist -> Here

Falling Masterlist -> Here

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I was on the mend.

Since arriving back in the Day Court, Helion put me on a strict regimen, he was taking my recovery very seriously. I had a daily routine now, granted it had only been a few days, but Helion said that a establishing a routine would be good for me to have. He told me that knowing what’s going to happen throughout my day would decrease any anxiety and keep me from panicking and having any other episodes. So far, he has been right. I haven’t had any panic attacks since waking up that initial time. He also said that fresh air and sunlight can do wonders for my physical body, and for my mental health, which is why I was currently making my way downstairs to meet Lucien for our daily walk through the gardens.

I saw Lucien pacing at the foot of the steps, as he had done since we began these walkabouts.

“Good morning Vanserra” I said, the male halted his movements when he heard my voice

“Good morning my dearest y/n” he said, extending his arm to me with a smile. I hooked my arm under his and together we made our way outside.

We walked for a while in comfortable silence, Lucien knew how much I loved the gardens here. They were full of such vibrant colors and such a vast array of flowers it was like I was in a different world; it was like a brief escape from all of it.

I led us to one of the stone benches placed throughout the space, it was my favorite spot in the garden. There was a clear view of the pond, sparkling in the sunlight and where we sat, we were under a canopy of wisteria. I enjoyed the sweet, floral, and slightly musky scent as it wafted through the gentle breeze. Lucien was the one to break the silence.

 “Are you ready for the big reunion?”

I wrung my hands in my lap “Not really” I said looking down at my hands

“Why is that?” he asked turning his head towards me to meet my gaze

“Well, if I’m being honest, I feel nervous. I know it’s just Feyre and Nesta and I am so grateful you wrote to them, but I’m worried they will see me like- like I’m damaged or broken. That they will somehow think of me differently. Think of me as- as weak after what happened.”

“They would never see you as weak, or broken, or damaged. Not after what they have been through.” He took my hand in his “and regardless of what anyone thinks you are strong, one of the strongest people I know. What happened to you wasn’t because of anything you did, or didn’t do, and I know you are trying to cope by pushing people away but we- the people who love you- aren’t going anywhere.”

I nod my head “I know” I say, just loud enough for him to hear

“Now, come on” he jerks his head over his shoulder “lets finish at the pond I know how much you love feeding the ducks”

I flash a smile at him, and we make our way toward the pond. I can’t help but feel a sense of calm about the big visit later. Lucien’s words had managed to put my mind at ease.

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I took my time getting ready for this meeting.

I had an extra-long soak in the bath, until my fingers were wrinkled, and the water had become tepid. Once getting out I put on an outfit I felt comfortable in, which happened to be an oversized cream sweater that hung to my mid-thigh, dark leggings, and thick wool socks. After getting dressed I sat at my vanity to fix my hair, I decided to put it in a simple braid to keep it out of my way but as I looked in the mirror, my eyes were drawn to the faint circle of purple, black and blue around my neck. As I stared at the markings I began to reconsider.

I brought my hand up to graze my fingers across the lingering bruises, all at different stages of healing but still visible were anyone to look at me. I suddenly felt self-conscious at the idea of my friends seeing the evidence of that night. I could feel the panic rising and remembered the breathing exercises Helion taught me and began to ground myself, mostly by reminding myself that I was here in the Day Court, that I was safe, that what happened was over. After a few minutes I regained my composure and stood. I wouldn’t let that male take anything else from me, I wasn’t going to cower from the bruises or the scars that I carried with me. With a final deep breath, I made my way downstairs to meet my friends.

I opened the double doors and entered the room I had picked for this meeting. I had chosen an intimate library with tall shelves lining two of the walls, the other wall housed a massive ornate fireplace, and the final wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rose gardens. It also had a comfortable sitting area with two long couches, two large armchairs and a table in the center, which was perfect for tea and cakes which Helion insisted we have, something about sugar being calming for the nerves. I didn’t dare argue.

I took up my seat in one of the armchairs, facing the doors when a soft knock sounded. I shouted for the visitor to enter to find it was just Helaena, one of the housekeepers, bringing the tea and desserts for me and my guests. Once she was finished, she promptly left, closing the doors behind her and I was once again alone. I looked at the clock atop the mantle on the fireplace and realized my guests would be arriving any minute, the thought had me picking at my cuticles as I did when I was nervous.

I found some comfort in the knowledge that Lucien would be there, I had asked him this morning if he would stay for the reunion, to intervene if he saw it was too much for me, and like the good male he is he agreed without complaint. However, I was still nervous to see the others. I know that Lucien was right this morning when he said they would understand but so much has happened since we last spoke that it seems like another lifetime. I was pulled from my thoughts as I heard faint voices down the hall. They were here.

I stood from my seat, wiping my palms on my thighs to get rid of the sweat that had accumulated in my anticipation of their arrival. A soft knock sounded.

“Come in” I shouted, my voice cracking at my choice of volume. The double doors swung open and there they were. We all stood frozen, just staring at each other.

I locked eyes with Feyre first, she was smiling at me, a faint flicker of silver lining her blue-grey eyes. Knowing her, they were tears of relief, tears of happiness. My gaze shifted to her right to find Nesta with her usual smirk that never gave away her true emotions, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. They were both looking at me as they always had.

And finally, I shifted my gaze to the other female who had accompanied them.  

I immediately recognized the auburn hair, sparkling teal blue eyes, and warm smile. I had to fight the tears from spilling because Gwyn had come. Gwyn who had only begun leaving the House of Wind a few months ago – and had only gone so far as Rita’s – had made the long journey to a new place to be here for me. My knees threatened to buckle under me, and I immediately crossed the room pulling all three of them into a bone crushing hug. I couldn’t stop the swell of emotion as we stood there, simply holding each other.

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After what felt like hours spent in a tight embrace, We finally took our seats around the table; Lucien chose to sit across the room to give the impression of privacy. We sat silently, pouring tea, and rationing out cookies and cakes from the assortment that had been brought in. After everyone was served, I decided to initiate the conversation.

I cleared my throat “I feel like- like I owe you an explanation for why I left the way I did”

Feyre interjected “Y/n, there is no need for that”

“I know that” I say flashing Feyre a small smile “but I’m sure you were worried sick at the fact that I just vanished, that I only left that note. I know that I shouldn’t have taken my anger at Azriel out on you guys and for that I’m sorry”

“After what happened” Nesta took a sip of her tea before continuing “and after what he said, I don’t blame you y/n. In fact, I let him know exactly what I thought about his actions the other night”

“What is she talking about?” I asked looking between Feyre and Nesta for any indication of what had happened between them.

“Well, after you left, we all had dinner at the House of Wind and your whereabouts were a point of conversation” Feyre said “Tensions were running high and after a suggestion that you be brought back to the Night Court Azriel made his opinion known about our plan to visit…Nesta made her opinions on his behavior quite clear.”

“What could he possibly have to say on the matter?” I asked

“That Feyre and I shouldn’t come; he made a comment to that extent…but enough about him” Nesta said “We are here for you”

Feyre and Gwyn nodded at that as the attention shifted back to me.

“How has it been here?” Gwyn asked gently taking a bite of lemon cake.

“Lucien and Helion have been amazing. I mean they rarely leave me alone, not that I particularly want to be alone right now, but they have treated me so well.” I paused a moment before I could continue “but even though they’ve been nothing but accommodating. I still have this feeling…just this overwhelming feeling of nothing, its like an endless pool of numbness. I can plaster a smile on my face, and laugh, and act normal but it’s not really how I feel.”

The three females all nodded in understanding.

“And I am terrified that this feeling is all I am ever going to feel again. Like, that night has irrevocably changed something in me. Changed who I am, how I see the world.” I wiped a tear that cascaded down my cheek “and I don’t want it to, I don’t want to give that male any more than he’s already taken but I don’t know how to get back to who I was before.” I dropped my head into my hands as the tears began to fall.

Before I could register what was happening, the three of them were at my side. Feyre on my left, rubbing comforting circles along on my back as I cried. Nesta on my right holding my arm as she tucked stray strands of hair behind my ear and Gwyn sat in front of me, her hands cupping my face while her forehead rested against mine.

Nesta was the first to speak after my admission. “Do you remember that day all those months ago after you first saw Azriel and Elain together?”

I wiped my nose on my sleeve, nodding

“Do you remember what I told you then?” I nodded again looking directly at her. I thought back to that morning, the words repeating themselves in my head

“What did I tell you?” she gently prodded

“You said” I took a shaky inhale “I can’t tell you when…or how; but it will get better. That I will get through it, as long as I am willing to face it, and embrace it, and walk through it. That I need to push through my pain to come out on the other side.”

“That’s right” Nesta said “I would tell you the same thing now y/n. You cannot change your circumstances, nor can you fix the past. All you can do is continue to move forward.”

Gwyn spoke then “Nesta is right, healing isn’t linear, and some days will be worse than others, but you aren’t alone in this you never have been, and you never will be.”  

I nodded my head in recognition of what she said but went silent as I heard a faint commotion in the hall and the familiar scent wafted into the room and I froze.

...night-chilled mist and cedar.

Azriel was here.

As quickly as the thought crossed my mind, the double doors opened and there he was. I couldn’t help but look him over, he was wearing his fighting leathers, his siphons giving off their usual cobalt glow and his wings flared behind him. His hazel eyes burned into me as he stalked his way across the room.

Lucien stood first intercepting the male by placing a hand on his shoulder, halting him from moving any closer.

“Back off Vanserra” Azriel barked under his breath.

“Not a chance Shadowsinger” Lucien said, pushing Azriel back towards the door. Lucien jerked his head and a fae guard approached taking hold of Azriel’s other arm, helping Lucien haul him out.

“I just need to talk to her” Azriel said, his voice raised as he fought the two males restraining him “please y/n, just- just give me five minutes- please” the shadowsinger pleaded as the males hauled him away.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough” Lucien snapped “haven’t you hurt her enough?” he growled into his ear.

“Lucien” I said softly, the male stilled at my voice “it’s alright, I’ll talk to him”

I could practically feel Azriel’s sigh of relief, but I pushed it out of my mind because I wasn’t doing this for him.

No, this was for me.

I was taking my friends’ advice and confronting my pain, Azriel being only one of my problems right now but I felt that he was the one I could face, at least the one I was most ready to face.

I made my way through the palace to my bedroom, I wanted to be far away from prying fae ears. I could feel the tension rolling off Azriel as he followed silently behind me. Once arriving at the door, I paused a moment taking a deep breath before turning the knob and gesturing Azriel to enter first. He does so silently, tucking his wings in behind him as he passes me. I step in after him closing the door behind me with a soft -click-

I lean my forehead against the door before turning to face Azriel to find that he is already staring intensely at me, his hazel eyes boring into me as he waits for me to speak first. I can’t help but notice how they flick down to the faint bruising still visible on my neck. I clear my throat, which draws his attention back up to my eyes.

“You wanted to speak to me” I say, surprised at how strong my voice sounds “so speak”

He clears his throat “I- I do want to talk about other things with you, but first I just need to know, how you are or rather how you’ve been”

“How do you think I am Azriel?”

“I know that was probably a stupid question, but y/n I was worried about you. I have been worried sick about you. so much so that I haven’t been able to sleep, or eat, or-or think with you gone and after what happened I just-”

“That must have been hard on you” I snap

He goes silent. Turning around to face the large floor to ceiling windows that covered one wall of my quarters. I make my way closer to him, sitting on one of the couches in a lounge area that faces the fireplace.

“It must have been hard to continue living your life as you had been for months” I say, the rage slowly building as I think to all the conversations we had, conversations where he knew about the bond and told me about how he had fantasized since childhood about having a mate, how he thought he was unworthy and undeserving of one when he knew. When he knew that his mate was sitting across from him.

He turns around to face me “Y/n, I know that’s how it seems but-”

“I’m not finished yet” I interrupt “it must have been so difficult, to know about the mating bond and sit back and live your life while I was suffering. Do you even know what it was like? To watch you and Elain together, to know you shared a bed, to know you were in love. While I was practically torturing myself?”

I could see the tension building in him as his jaw clenched “Don’t put all of this on me y/n. You knew about the bond too, and I don’t recall you making any public declarations. I didn’t see you make an effort to tell me about the bond either.”

“I was going to” I practically shouted “on the winter solstice. At the party, I told Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, and the entire Inner Circle about my plan, that you needed to know to make an informed decision about what to do with your life, regardless of the outcome”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “And do you remember what you did that night Azriel? Do you?” I asked. He made his way across the room, sitting on a chair opposite of me, bringing his hands to ruffle through his hair. I could’ve sworn he cursed under his breath. His silence only encouraged me to continue.

“You got engaged. You proposed to Elain, and I had to watch, Lucien had to watch.” I wiped a tear that fell at the memory of that night. “I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell you so many fucking times Azriel but how could I? You seemed so happy and all I would do is ruin that, ruin a choice that you made. A choice that Elain made, and I had made my peace with it. That you chose her, and the bond wouldn’t change anything because it didn’t. You knew the whole time. The whole fucking time and you clearly didn’t want it”

“I fucked up y/n I know that now, but you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant to hurt you”

“You know a few months ago I might have believed that. I used to think that you would never hurt me Azriel, from the moment the bond snapped into place for me I had this idea in my head about who you were and- and I was wrong because I trusted you, I got to know you and I started to have feelings for you”

I couldn’t help the tears that lined my eyes as it all came pouring out of me. “But you- you betrayed me, and you have turned into someone I don’t recognize”

“I know that I fucked up y/n, I know that but if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. please just- just give me a chance”

“Fine, here’s your chance. Why did you choose that moment to tell me about the bond? In that place after I was attacked”

“Y/n…” he began “Do we really have to talk about that”

“Don’t treat me like I am this fragile, broken female. I can handle it. I have been handling it. So either answer my question, or get out”

“Fine…I- I didn’t choose that moment, it just came out. I was so panicked and worried about you. that night…I felt you get hurt and I don’t know, when I saw you and when I smelt your blood, I was just so relieved you were alive. I didn’t have a filter on my emotions, and they got the best of me”

I nodded “Did you ever think about telling me, that you knew that the bond was there?” I said softly

“y/n” he says like a warning

“Don’t y/n me Azriel. Did you consider it or not, it’s a simple question”

“Yes” he says desperately “of course I did, but I decided against it”

“Why?” I asked

“Why?” he repeated, his voice sounding confused.

“Yes Azriel, I had a good reason not to tell you. What reason did you have not to tell me?”

“I thought- I don’t know I convinced myself that you were better off. I thought that it was too dangerous for you to be bonded to me for life and that I was protecting you”  

“That’s bullshit” I quip

“That’s the truth” he shouts back at me

“It’s an excuse, it was too much for me, but Elain could handle being married to you. Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

“FINE” he yells pinching the bridge of his nose as he finally lets his guard down.

“I was in love with Elain, and I wanted to be with her. I didn’t want to hurt anyone okay…I really didn’t and I hoped deep down that you didn’t know. I convinced myself that you had no idea and that all the signs that you did were in my head. I didn’t want to have feelings for you, I didn’t want to acknowledge it.” He took a deep breath “but then you were attacked, and I felt like a complete asshole because maybe if I hadn’t pushed you away then you wouldn’t have almost died. If I was with you, maybe that male wouldn’t have dared touch you and…the more I thought about it the more I realized I was in the wrong. Everyone fucking knew already, and here I was playing fucking house with Elain.”

I wiped away the tears that had involuntarily fallen during his confession.

“And in the end Elain is the one that ended things, because I was still too much of a coward to admit that I was developing feelings for you. and before you say it’s out of pity or a feeling of duty, I was developing feelings for you long before that night.”

“Then tell me something Az” I say quietly

“Anything” he says, his eyes meeting mine. I can see the desperation within them.

“If she hadn’t ended the engagement. Would you have married her?”

His face fell, his body going rigid at my ask. That seemed like answer enough to me. I nodded in acceptance and stood going to leave the room. He reacted quickly, running in front of me and dropping to his knees, tears freely falling down his face.

“Please don’t go y/n” he begged “Not like this please just- fuck I know how it seems but I have been honest, doesn’t that count for something? I know- I know I hurt you and I hurt Elain but If you just give me a chance, I can fix this, I can fix us.”

“I can’t Az” I said, my own tears falling in tandem with his “maybe someday I can forgive you and we can move past this, but not right now” I made my way to the door, reaching for the knob to leave when his voice halted me.

“I’m not giving up y/n” he said “I promise you; I don’t care how long it takes. Even if it takes an eternity, I am not giving up on this.”

I didn’t respond. I simply opened the door and walked back to the library, leaving him kneeling on the floor.

Next Chapter-> (Coming Soon)

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