ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA ATSUMU X FEM READER

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA ATSUMU x FEM READER

Being hot at the grocery store should be illegal.

wc — 800

tags — grocery store meet cute, set in the same universe as the way to the heart is through the stomach

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“There is an attractive man on the other side of the grocery aisle,” you hiss at Kiyoko. Your roommate had dragged you out for a grocery run, but as the person who forced you out of the comfort of your home, she could stand to be a little nicer to you. 

Instead, she raises an eyebrow; her face conveying utter disdain, confusion, and slight pity at all once. It’s a little impressive, honestly. 

She peeks between the cracks in the shelves. Looks at you. Looks at the man. Looks at you again. She makes a motion that could be what are you waiting for or let the grandma pass so she can get her multivitamins. 

Sometimes it’s complicated when it comes to Kiyoko. She’s not great at talking without words. It’s because she’s spoiled. Must be nice to have a boyfriend who loves you so fully you don’t have to try to be understood, you think with a hint of jealousy. 

Then, she pushes you towards the other aisle in a gesture that’s unmistakable. 

“Kiyoko!” You’re appalled. “You’re not making me go over there. I’m wearing my pajamas!” 

Your pajamas are grey sweats with multiple suspicious stains from ketchup or blood or some other substance. You’re not sure. That’s why it’s suspicious. 

“Okay? He looks worse,” she says. Notably, she doesn’t tell you that you look fine. 

She probably thinks that’s reassuring. It’s not. 

The fact that he’s also in his pajamas and still looks hot is infuriating. 

And very sexy. 

Terribly so. 

“Just go talk to him,” she says. “You know if you don’t you’ll be thinking about him for days, anyway.” 

“I will not!” 

“Excuse me,” says the hot stranger, who in the time that you spent arguing with Kiyoko, has suddenly moved behind you. “Do ya mind?” 

He’s gesturing at the package of cereal behind you. 

You freeze. How did he move so quietly? And had he heard the conversation between you two? 

“Hello?” He waves his hand in your face - a little rudely. That deducts one point from his overall hotness score. You scramble away, giving him access to the shelf. 

“This is my favorite brand,” he says conversationally, “but my brother got a girlfriend lately, and every time she comes to our apartment she eats all of mine. I’ve told her not to like six million times! And he’s a chef! Why are ya even eatin’ processed junk if ya can get yer professional chef of a boyfriend to make ya whatever ya want? He’s so whipped, I swear.” 

“Aren’t- aren’t you also eating processed junk, then?” You say with trepidation.

He brushes you off with a “No, that’s different.” 

He’s…a little weird. Who just talks to a stranger like that? You have to admit that confidence is attractive - even if you’re not sure if it’s confidence or narcissism as he continues. 

“So, like. Are ya going to ask me out or what?” 

You choke on your own spit. He had overheard. There would be no better time for one of these shelves to fall on you and crush you instantly.

“Woah!” Says the hot stranger, who still hasn’t told you his name before commanding you to ask him out. “Ya okay?” 

He slaps your back as you wheeze for breath - hard. Is he an athlete in his spare time? How does anyone have that kind of arm strength? 

“I-“ You shut your mouth because actually, you don’t know what to say. How do you respond to that? 

“Come on,” says Mr. Bad Bleach Job. “I heard ya and yer little friend talking about me all the way down the aisle. I know you want in on this sexy ass.” 

He’s ridiculous. Are you - are you into that? You’re seriously reevaluating your mental health even as you say, almost to your own surprise, “Can I take you on a date?” 

He wrinkles his nose. “I dunno. Can ya make it a little more romantic?” 

“Why don’t you ask me out if you’re going to be so demanding?” You challenge. 

“Sure,” he says easily. “Wanna go out? We can get fancy sushi for fun and eat McDonald’s after cause that’s real food.” 

Even you can’t tell if the noise that escapes you is a laugh or a sigh. What have you gotten yourself into? 

“Whatever,” you say, handing him your phone. “I think mine was better.” 

“They both kind of sucked. 5/10 for execution, -2 for sheer cringe, -3 for awkwardness.” 

“Kiyoko, read the room.”

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1 year ago

ding!

Ding!

. . . inarizaki second-year trio. convince, convince.

Ding!

“um.” rintarou clears his throat, taking a deep breath.

atsumu and osamu nod in his direction as they warily glance at your mother, who looked at them with a neutral expression on her face.

“good morning, mrs. l/n.” he says, his usual composed exterior coming back to him. “today, we have prepared a powerpoint to convince you to let y/n tag along on our outing tomorrow morning.”

the presentation changes to the following slide. “why you should agree to let your child join our simple outing: a powerpoint presentation made by suna rintarou, miya atsumu and miya osamu.”

your mother smiles quite a bit, and rintarou takes this as a sign from those who heard his silent pleas the night before.

“one. it would help build social connections, specifically memories with friends.” silly pictures of the twins bickering and even ones where you’re included in the background at school are what’s displayed.

“two. it helps with stress.” the next slide has a huge picture of atsumu’s face being absolutely red from eating an extra spicy dish that you and osamu dared him to eat. “according to a few studies, the company of friends would lighten one’s mood and overall performance throughout the day.” wow, they even had it cited properly—in the format of a true professional presentation.

“three. please, mrs. l/n. i can’t handle another outing with the twins; my brain cells are dropping at an alarming rate whenever i’m around them.” he sighs playfully, shaking his head. “fortunately, your child carries most of the brain cells our friend group has.”

the twins stare at rintarou with disbelief. atsumu was about to retort something when osamu held him back. they had to act on their best behavior to win your mother’s favor, after all.

one mistimed step, and she’ll surely refuse.

“four. we’ll be sure to have them home before the sun sets.”

“five. if anything happens, we’ll have atsumu to blame.”

that caught atsumu by surprise. “huh? why me?” he practically yells at rintarou, though he manages to keep his voice down.

“because it was your idea to actually wear formal suits just to deliver this presentation,” he replies.

“hey! it adds flare, don’t it?” atsumu reasons. “ya would’ve worn somethin’ else that doesn’t look professional at all, suna!”

osamu sighs to himself. “keep it down, you shits.” he quickly covers his mouth, realizing his language in front of your mother. “i– i am sorry for my language, mrs. l/n. i swear– ‘m not always like this, swear. i’m not a bad influence on your child, promise.” he tries to reassure her.

the other two looked at you and then at your mother; they were silent.

you, on the other hand, were holding in your laughter. you honestly didn’t expect osamu to use such language in front of your not-so-impressed mother.

she pinches the bridge of her nose, a small smile on her lips. “there’s no need to apologize. i can tell that you and your friends really are persistent to have y/n join you, even going as far as wearing these presentable suits in this hot weather.” atsumu nudges rintarou with a look that says ‘see? it helped!’ “creating a powerpoint presentation and bringing a projector in our home—” rintarou had an eager glint in his eyes as he listened, “made an honest attempt in showing your best behavior in front of your friend’s mother,” osamu smiles sheepishly.

“i’m delighted to know that you are y/n’s friends. what you showed me convinced me well enough.” the three, along with you, cheer as she says this.

“you may have y/n join you three whenever or wherever you want, as long as you tell me or their father beforehand.”

rintarou nods. “thank you, mrs. l/n. fuck, we actually did it. it’s like when we did our thesis defense.”

“rintarou!” you chuckled, and the twins happily thanked your mother.

the three could definitely say they had a knack for convincing and really put in the effort on rare ocassions, especially when it came to you.

Ding!

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.


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1 year ago

"What about you, 'Tsumu?" Ginjima asks. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"Ya mean ya don't think I'd ask fer some stupidly expensive rare high-end food, too?" the blonde replies with a wry smile as their friends laugh and Osamu rolls his eyes with playful offense.

When the laughter tapers off Atsumu says "If I could have anything in the world?...Get whatever I ask fer?..." He lets out a half-chuckle with a crooked smile and admits "I'd take the love of my life."

"Like on a date?" Ginjima asks, pleasantly surprised by the earnest answer.

"Na." Atsumu shakes his head with a cheeky grin. "Like in marriage. Like fer the rest'a ma life."

There are a few people who 'aww' in response, maybe even ask a few questions but you don't hear them or Atsumu's response, suddenly very interested in the contents of your own cup. It doesn't help that Osamu's steely gaze is scrutinizing you from across the room while all the attention is on his brother.

You slip out of the room the first chance you get.

It's not a small birthday party the twins have thrown so there's plenty of people casually filling the living room and kitchen, spilling out into the backyard where there's a fire. Ojiro and a few other guys from the team are sitting around it, talking. There's a myriad of other people from school including some mutual friends but the twins are the main reason you're here and they're unfortunately social. It means you've spent most of the party drifting along the periphery; your presence here was a condition of his parents' permission for the twins to have friends over without supervision.

You smile to yourself fondly remembering Atsumu's loud protest and insult that his parents trusted you more than their own flesh-and-blood to which they responded of course they did; you had much more common sense than a real Miya.

"Ya look like yer havin' a good time."

You don't need to see to know it's Osamu but you turn to give him a look and he chuckles.

"Okay..." He turns a palm toward you. "Maybe not."

"I'm fine." You offer a smile and ask "are you having fun?"

He shrugs. "Eh. Ya know this was mostly 'Tsumu's idea."

With narrowed eyes you retort "you can deny it all you want but you like the attention, too, 'Samu. You're just not as dramatic about it."

"That's fair," he agrees with a smirk. His gaze follows yours, sweeping over the people in the kitchen and the backyard. "Still...not such a bad time."

You give a non-committal shrug.

After a moment of quiet Osamu asks "...ya heard his answer, right?"

"Yeah," you snicker. "And?"

"Well...do ya believe me now?"

You meet his stormy eyes with a roll of your own. "No, 'Samu. All he said was he'd want to marry whoever he loves. He didn't actually say who that was."

"Ya really don't believe me," Osamu says to himself in disappointment with a shake of his head and sighs, exasperated. He falls quiet for a moment as Ojiro and the group around the fire burst into laughter and then perks up with a sudden light in his eyes. "Fine."

Your eyes narrow defensively, recognizing that look.

"Then how about this," the gray twin squarely faces you, "ask him what he wants fer his birthday" --he holds up a hand to quickly cut off your counter-- "on his own. Ask him when it's just tha two of ya an' nobody else. I promise ya he's in love with ya--"

"He's not," you argue, pushing his hand away but he just plows on.

"He is. An' I'll prove it to ya." Osamu levels you with complete sincerity. "Catch him on his own an' ask him again, just the two'a ya, an' he's gonna say tha same thing. He's gonna say it when it really counts, when no one else is lookin' and it's gonna mean somethin' else. An' if on some small odd chance that I'm wrong--which I know I'm not--I'll make bring ya lunch everyday fer the rest of tha year."

You abruptly straighten, eyes wide. "That's like six months of bento."

"If I'm wrong," he smugly replies and crosses his arms. "Which I know I'm not."

Your eyes narrow mouth watering at the tantalizing possibility of so much delicious food and you strongly consider the bet. Because there's no way he could be right.

There's no way that Miya Atsumu, the school's golden boy and nationally recognized setter to whom no one else exists unless they're on the court, the person you've pined over for an unbearably long time

could like you back.

You've seen the number of chocolates and gifts and confessions he's accepted over the years and it's exactly

zero.

"You're on," you answer with your own smug grin. Because zero are exactly the chances that Osamu's right.

Osamu's brow flicks up. "That's it? Ya don't wanna know what I want if I'm right?"

You shrug, crossing your own arms in a mocker of his confidence. "Doesn't matter. Because you're not gonna win."

Osamu leans in, dropping his voice to lay-out your wager with cunningly narrowed eyes.

It's not until the end of the party that you find him.

He's upstairs, having sneaked out to his parent's private balcony where he leans on the railing quietly sipping from a cup and watching the party in shadow.

"'Tsumu?" you quietly ask as a way to announce your arrival. "You okay?"

He turns to face you still leaning on the railing. "Yeah. You?"

You shrug. "I'm fine." You glance down--most of the people are outside now--and ask "you don't want to be with everyone?"

He mimics your shrug. "Just needed ta catch ma breath."

You join him at the railing with a nod feeling an awkward flip of your stomach.

"Somethin' ya needed?" he asks.

"I just wanted to check on you...make sure you were okay," you admit in truth. Your hands idly tap the railing as you try to figure out how to broach the subject. "I didn't get you anything for your birthday."

He waves it off. "I don't need anythin'. Yer the reason we got ta have a party. That's more than enough."

"I guess..." You scrunch your face, heart start to beat a little harder in your chest. Despite your conviction that Osamu's wrong you're having trouble rising to the challenge. "Okay...so if you could have something else for your birthday..."

Atsumu tilts his head, dark brows furrowing as he scrutinizes your discomfort but he doesn't say anything.

"If..." You hesitate, battling the increasing pound of your pulse. "If you could have anything in the world..." You force yourself to meet his golden gaze. "What would you want?"

The setter goes very still. Almost defensively.

"Starting spot on a division-one team. Starting spot in the Olympics. Hell, a gold medal in the Olympics," you offer in his silence. "A billion dollars, a mansion, a yacht, the ability to fly."

He doesn't answer.

"What would you wish for?"

You assume he's just tired of being asked so

why is it so hard to look at him again?

"I'd want..." His voice is low. Tense.

Feeling the foundation of your world shifting you bring your gaze back to him and feel a tidal wave of emotion roll through your body.

"...ta marry ya."

"If I'm right," Osamu's voice echoes in your mind, "ya hafta confess."

Fuck.

Your stomach drops and your head spins as you gulp.

"Okay."

Atsumu is still for another second before he drops his cup and somehow shouts while gasping "HAAAAA?!" He reels back, looking as stunned as you feel.

You pull away, taken aback by his shock.

"WHADDYA MEAN OKAY?!" He starts flailing his arms. "YA CAN'T JUST SAY THAT! YER GONNA GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK!"

"You're the one who started it!" you shout back.

"NO! YER THE ONE WHO CORNERED ME UP HERE WITH YER CUTE...LITTLE...EVERYTHING" --he gestures at you as if you've instigated something nefarious-- "I'M JUST TRYIN'A CATCH MA BREATH AFTER ALREADY ADMITTIN' THAT IN FRONT'A YA ONCE DOWNSTAIRS!"

"Why are you still yelling?!" you shout defensively, still leaning back.

"BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE MY CHEST IS ABOUT TA EXPLODE!" He takes a couple heaving breaths, eyes wide and feverish.

"Are you okay?" you hesitantly ask and he braces himself on the railing, ignoring the fact that the entire party in the yard below is silent and watching.

"Just...just tryin' ta figure out what just happened."

"I think...I agreed to marry you?"

His head whips around. "Ya...Ya really mean it?"

"Yeah..." You shift uncomfortably. "I mean...I don't think we should run out right now but yeah. I'm...I'm in love with you, 'Tsumu. So when we're older and actually ready I'd like to marry y--"

The words are cut off by his lips. Pressed tightly against yours with a hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek he kisses you like he's trying to receive the words directly from your mouth.

Someone below whistles.

Someone else shouts "get a room!"

"Preferably not our parents'," adds Osamu.

There's a round of laughter but neither of you break the kiss and everyone diverts their attention when it's clear they're all intruding on a now-private moment.

Atsumu's lips take and give as if every passing moment they spend pressed against yours only makes him want you more. He chases after them, stealing a few more seconds, as you pull back and smile.

"We should get back to the party, 'Tsumu."

"But it's ma birthday," he pouts childlishly and tries to kiss you again.

You chuckle and reply "yes and I promised that I'd take care of your birthday party."

Atsumu smirks.

"What?" you ask narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

"I just realized that yer not gonna be ma parents' favorite anymore."

"Oh yeah?" You mirror his smirk. "How so?"

"'Cause. Yer gonna marry me. An' that's gonna make ya a real Miya." He grins victoriously.

"Or I could just not take your last name and remain their favorite," you point out. He gapes until you throw your arms over his shoulders and give him a grin. "Although I'd rather be your favorite so I guess it's worth it."

He grins with you. "'Course it is an' 'course ya are."

"Good." You give him another kiss and step back, quickly adding "besides, changing my last name won't make me as unreliable as you!"

Atsumu gasps, scandalized, as you run away cackling. "Calling your future husband unreliable!!?" He runs after you, shouting "and on his birthday?!"

1 year ago

Atsumu’s irritated.

The kind of irritated that makes him look like he's constantly smelling something foul.

Osamu snickers. “Yer face is gonna stay like that ya scrub.”

“Shaddup.” He grabs his bento and stomps away from the usual lunch spot, away from his friends,

Away from his dumb brother.

He's not even sure he's hungry anymore he's so irritated, and that makes him even more irritated. He knows exactly why he's irritated, too, not that it helps.

It's all because some doe-eyed simp batted her fake eyelashes at 'Samu this morning and asked him to be the subject of a portrait assignment.

Geez, Atsumu was right there!

And then, after the stupid scrub says yes and that frilly little turd skips away, 'Samu turns to him and says

‘Guess that settles it. I've got the better face.’

He’s charging around the school, not sure he's looking for any place in particular…it's just a way to burn through some frustration.

“Whoa, who boiled your bean curd today.”

He stops and whips around ready to bite the head off—

You.

Atsumu gulps; he recognizes you from class but doesn't actually know your name and the last thing he wants to do is berate some innocent and be hung out to dry by Kita because this whole school’s a cesspool of gossip—

“Seriously, Atsumu. You okay?”

He blinks, still grumpy but nods. “Just mah stupid brother.”

“You…wanna talk about it?” you offer unsurely and gesture to the spot on the bench next to you.

“Really?” When you nod reassuringly, he screws up his face. “Why? Ya just tryin’a use me ta get ta someone else on the team?”

“What? No.” You look disgusted and…a little disappointed. “Do people really do that to you?”

Atsumu shrugs, stiffly sitting down with you. “I dunno. Just seems like everyone prefers my brother.”

“All the time? Or did something specific happen?”

Atsumu admits “kinda both.” He tells you how his brother loves to get under his skin and then their friends get it on it, too.

He tells you about the incident this morning.

“You're upset because she asked your brother over you?” When he nods you think for a moment, then offer “I’ll draw you.”

“Ha?!” he gapes.

You nod nonchalantly. “Yeah, I'm in that class...I have that portrait assignment, too."

“And ya don’t have someone yer already drawin’?”

“No.” You lament “I've been dreading it. The last thing I want to do is go up to someone and ask ‘hey can I draw you?’." You cringe. "Gross.”

“What about yer friends er somethin’?”

You give him a flat smirk. “do you want someone to draw you or not?”

He splutters “hu-gchw-we-well yeah but only if ya want ta!” He pouts and crosses his arms. “I don’t want yer pity.” His petulance cracks as you laugh.

For the first time in a long time someone's laughing because of him... Not at him.

“I promise it’s not like that, Atsumu." You smile so genuinely his irritation dissolves. "Really, you're doing me a huge favor."

"Really?" He likes the look of relief in your eyes when you nod, that he was the one who made that happen.

Three weeks later the portraits are put on display. Atsumu's excited to see your final piece. You haven't shown him yet but he had so much fun hanging out with you; he's never felt so seen or appreciated, been so relaxed or so autonomously at ease,

Until his brother makes a comment.

"I dunno, I think ya made it all up." 'Samu smirks. "There's only one Miya among those portraits and it's the better looking twin."

You're not in class today; not answering his texts so he goes to look on his own and sure enough,

His face isn't there.

Where the fuck is the picture you drew?!

He's more than irritated now...

His mood is downright foul.

He avoids interacting with anyone and everyone until he can get to practice and then his irritation doesn't dissipate on the court and it's just building and building turning into error after error--

"Atsumu, someone's here to see you."

He doesn't dare snap at his captain, simply turns and freezes when he sees you at the side of the court.

His anger fades to a grumpy simmer.

"I got your texts," you say with a smile and light flush to your cheeks. "Sorry I didn't respond, I was busy."

"That why yer in such a pissy mood today, 'Tsumu?" Osamu comments from the bench but before Atsumu can react, you beat him to it.

"Excuse me, I'm talking to Atsumu right now."

Everyone stops and looks. Eyebrows raise, and more than a few jaws drop.

With an irritated exhale you turn back to Atsumu and clear your expression. "As I was saying... I'm sorry I didn't respond or tell you ahead of time...I wanted it to be a surprise."

Atsumu's throat is tight as you hand him something that's definitely not a drawing. "What's this?" he sourly mumbles.

Ignoring the snarky murmurs of his team you tap it and explain "it's a letter of acceptance for an art show."

He can hear the joy in your voice and when his gaze shifts up your smile rivals the sun.

"Your portrait is a centerpiece."


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1 year ago

this was beautifully painful. nanami my love, YOU DID MORE THAN ENOUGH 🫵🫵😭🏃

And If My Wishes Came True ⊹
And If My Wishes Came True ⊹
And If My Wishes Came True ⊹

and if my wishes came true ⊹

pairing. nanami kento x gn!reader

content/warnings. 2.9k+ wc | fluff to angst | narration heavy! | mentions of alcohol | minimal proofread | tw death

in which: nanami’s last seven minutes of brain activity was filled with his wishes, his regrets, and you.

And If My Wishes Came True ⊹

Legend has it that in the final minutes before one's demise, a lifetime unfolds in a rapid reel before their eyes. 

As Nanami faces his imminent end, he can attest with certainty that the scenes playing out are not just a chaotic montage. For Nanami, those final scenes are a reel of memories – vivid memories painted with the colors of you.

And in his last breaths, he swears it's a life worth watching.

[MARCH 09, 2012]

The first time Nanami laid eyes on you, it happened in the pulsating atmosphere of a nightclub he never intended to visit. From his vantage point, the allure of your presence hit him like a tidal wave.

Your aura, a blend of magnetic charm and elusive mystery, transformed the mundane night he was having into a vibrant spectacle. The way you moved through the crowd was like poetry in motion, and Nanami couldn't help but be drawn into the orbit of your enigmatic presence.

He wasn't accustomed to losing himself in a few drinks, but he swears, one look at you was enough to make the room spin.

In his conscious mind, he found himself wishing to see you again—in a much more dignified situation, perhaps. Some place where he wasn't lost in liquor, and where you wouldn't mistake his intentions for anything less than pure.

So, he sat still on his bar stool, sipping the last ounces of scotch in his glass.

“It’s rude to stare at someone.”

Yet, as fate would have it, you were suddenly seated on the stool beside his own.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to,” he admitted.

You chuckled at his seriousness, clearly not expecting how seriously he took being pointed out. He’s the serious type, you noted.

You shrugged at his apology, swiftly turning to the bartender to order a drink. “Not having a great time?” you asked, turning to him.

Not anymore, Nanami thought. “You could say that. And, you? Do you not find yourself enjoying the night?” 

Nanami blamed the alcohol (he had a high tolerance) for his sudden chattiness. Even he was surprised by the plethora of words he was spouting.

“Maybe. You could put it that way, too.” you said, taking a sip of your drink. Nanami watched as you winced at the bitter taste. Clearly not a drinker, he noted.

“May I know why?” he asked. Again, he swears it’s the alcohol.

“It’s my friend’s engagement party,” you started, “I don’t know why but I feel left out of the conversation. I excused myself, and can you believe me they encouraged me? They said it’s about time I try.”

You turned to him, a complete stranger, if you'd forgotten. Because from the way you babbled to him, it seemed you'd forgotten he was one.

Bashful, you turned your gaze away and gulped the drink in front of you. “Sorry, I’m babbling.”

“I don’t mind,” he assured.

“How about you? Are you out with friends? Don’t you have someone at home, waiting?” Before you even realized the implication of your probing questions, you saw a subtle upward tug of this man’s lips, and oh, was he gorgeous.

“Co-workers,” he corrects you, “And no, I don’t have someone waiting at home.”

Nanami might have had a scant amount of dating history, but he wasn’t clueless about what you were implying. Being around two (loud) men who often prided themselves on their ‘charisma’ would teach you exactly how to ask someone if they were single.

It was a relief, you thought, knowing this about him. You only hoped you had done a good job of drawing out the information and expressing your relief in a better way.

Before either of you realized it, minutes slipped into hours, and the night deepened with the two of you exchanging stories and innocent details of each other’s lives.

Nanami learned that you were freshly out of college with a degree your younger self was passionate about. You were on your first corporate job, and haven’t yet found the best footing on how to keep up with the fast-moving world of adulthood— a sentiment Nanami nodded in agreement with, having once found himself lost as well.

In return, you learned that Nanami was much older than you. Not too old, but just the right amount of years ahead to know he wasn’t as corporate clueless as you are.

Later, you couldn’t recall what had prompted the deep conversation with a man you now knew as Nanami Kento. But, in your defense, he was surprisingly easy to talk to, and never once did the conversation take a suggestive turn toward a room and a bed.

“What do you want in your life?” he asked. It wasn’t invasive, given the nature of the conversation unfolding in a nightclub, a place where such discussions were said never to happen.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, laughing at your own cluelessness. “I want my family to be happy, does that count? I want them healthy, safe, and –”

“What do you want?” 

Momentarily stunned, you blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want for yourself?” he repeats the question to you, seemingly clarifying that he was asking a question you misunderstood.

You realize what he was referring to and you will be lying not to admit that it didn’t do things to your heart. “I want the simplest things in life. I want to travel as much as I can and take as many pictures, I want to learn more, I want to laugh more, and I want to love and be loved for the rest of my life.”

It came straight from your honest thoughts. It was as candid as you can be. “Your turn. What do you want?”

“A proper date with you.”

You stilled at your seat with your glass hanging mid-air, unable to reach the rim of your lips. Turning to him, you met his gaze, finding a hopeful shimmer.

“May I take you out to somewhere less crowded, perhaps? Would Friday night do?” he continued, his voice an octave lower than before. You could only hope your face didn’t betray the shiver running down your spine.

“I’d love that, Nanami.” you replied, and to Nanami, it seemed as though his wishes had been granted by some benevolent force.

[AUGUST 01, 2014]

“Love, come here.”

Nanami's toned arm snaked around your waist, leading you away from the lively swirl of carnival lights and the enticing aroma of cotton candy to take you to his place of interest. What could be more interesting than cotton candies and popcorn?

Apparently, your boyfriend thought a wishing fountain was.

“You don't even believe in things like these,” you pointed out to him.

But he was hellbent on his purpose. He handed you a penny after kissing the side of your face, right between your temple and the apples of your cheeks. “I believe in everything you believe in,” he whispered.

“You love me that much, huh?” you playfully quipped, though your flustered cheeks betrayed the truth.

“Yes,” he responded, a declaration that needed no secrecy. Every day, in every way, Nanami intended to remind you of that love—as long as you'd let him. And he wished that would be a long, long time.

Perhaps, two years weren’t enough – no, two years was more than enough time for Nanami to realize that life was worth living with you in it.

He first realized it after the first proper date he took you. It was a lovely night in an Italian restaurant, graced with your smile that put famous paintings to shame.

You were breathtaking, a masterpiece in your own right.

From shy touches to the silence on the way home, the date after that night, and the one after. And may it be far-fetched, but in every moment you spent with him, he knew – it's you. 

It had to be you.

“Stop being mushy, mister. Here,” you handed him the penny, “How about you make a wish, then.”

“I don't know what to wish for.”

“Come on! There's got to be something you want.”

He pondered about it for a few seconds, his gaze flicking to you and back to the penny. “I might have thought of something.”

“Okay, don't tell me about it. It's bad luck. Just close your eyes, hold the penny like this,” you took his hand holding the penny and placed it inches away from his face, just below his nose, “And say it. Only in your mind, love.”

Nanami did exactly as you said. As he closed his eyes, you allowed yourself to linger on him.

What a beautiful soul, you thought. He was just so… “Mine,” you whispered.

“Yours,” he breathed as he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a tender softness replacing the usual stoicness. Seconds passed, and the next thing you knew, the love of your life was giving you a tender kiss. So tender, you knew it was one that would linger forever.

And in between soft kisses and whispers of sweet nothings, there you were — thinking two years with him were more than enough time to realize that Nanami Kento was the reason why it never worked out with anyone else.

That he was meant to be yours in the most perfect time, and that he made the trying and waiting time so worth it.

Because not to be oh-so-hopeless romantic, but you like to think he was it for you. 

And he is. Or at least, he wishes he is.

He threw the penny into the fountain before leaving, sealing an unspoken wish for forever.

[APRIL 11, 2016]

Yet, it seems, forever was just wishful thinking. Just a word that once echoed in the enchanting glow of a wishing fountain, now stood shattered in the harsh light of reality.

“Ken, I don't like where this is going.”

“It’s for the better,” he lies through his teeth. It was a blatant lie.

But Nanami – he resists, and stubbornly persists. It is for the better. 

“Don’t pull that shit on me,” you hissed in gritted teeth. Tears threaten to spill free, and you feel every fiber of your being pulsating with anger. 

Was it anger, truly? It’s not. How could it be, when it was Nanami who stood before you? You can never be mad at him, even when he’s hurting you.

“You said– you said you were just having problems at work, and I understood that.” a sob escaped you, “I... I gave you space, time to think. I've been supportive, have I not? It was just some problems, you said.” 

“But now, suddenly you're breaking up with me yet you can't even look me in the eye.” you continued, voice becoming more and more incomprehensible from crying, “Just tell me what problems you're having, and we'll figure it out. We'll figure it out like we always do. Just– just don't do this to me.”

Bargaining and pleading echoed in the hollows of your shared space. Yet, one look at his resigned face told a story of endings, not new beginnings. It was enough telltale that there's no figuring your way out of this. 

“I can't give you what you want.” Not when he will be bargaining with death every waking day. It's the life of a jujutsu sorcerer, it's nothing he can't change. But yet again and again, he wishes to.

“What I want?”

“The simplest things in life. I won't be able to give you that.”

“Then I'll take whatever you can give! Fuck what I want. I only want you!”

It's comforting, at least, to know he's been enough to you. But until when? 

Would you want him still when he couldn't come home because he was on missions where lives hung in precarious balance? Would you want to spend your nights pacing through the quiet of your house, your mind a tempest as he failed to return before dinner? Would you want him when he was all bloodied, half-dead, half-breathing?

“There's more to it. You're not telling me something, Kento.”

You saw through him, as you always did. Every time, he told you everything. But not this time.

He can’t just tell you about cursed spirits. He can’t just tell you about the life he lived before that fateful night in the bar. He just can’t tell you because that means your life will change.

And none of those changes aligned with the simplest things, none of them were what you truly wanted.

Being a jujutsu sorcerer– it was his choice. Choices come with prices, and Nanami loves you too much to subject you to the inevitable pain of being a sorcerer's lover.

“What are these problems, Kento? Why do you have to do this? Have I– Have I become one of your problems, too? Is that why you can't tell me?”

You asked, you pressed, and you demanded. Only to be met by silence from the blonde. Silence was always comfortable with him. But now? It sure was not.

“I’m sorry.” is what he managed to say.

 Two words spoken in a language of finality. Two words too plenty to know it’s over.

“Leave.” you fumed, tears freely streaming down your face.

With whatever was left of him, Nanami turned his back on you to leave. He would leave, do everything you wanted.

He shut his eyes tight before closing the door of your once shared abode.

It's for the better, he desperately wished himself to believe. This way, you would never be subjected to the haunting memories of grief for the rest of your life if he stayed with you, and the day would come where he couldn't come home anymore.

It's for the better, continuously and endlessly, he chanted in his head. Maybe the more he said it, the faster it would be true.

[OCTOBER 22, 2018]

What are dying memories if not intertwined with regret? Of all the memories, it had to bring forth this one.

Two years had slipped through Nanami's grasp since he chose to reenter the world of curses. Two years, and still, none of it was for the better. Losing you was never for the damn better.

Not when each day began waking up alone. And especially not when he was less than twenty meters away from you.

Who could have foreseen that staying overtime, grappling with curses in the quiet hours, would lead him to the flickering street lamp casting its dim glow on the bus stop where you waited?

Across the street, there stood you at the bus stop, a silhouette against the city’s canvas. Nanami’s gaze drank in the details— the way your hair caught the soft glow and the way it kissed the edges of your cheekbones, the subtle curve of your shoulders, and the rhythmic dance of your head in sync with the melodies streaming into your ears.

Your eyes, unaware of his silent vigil, held a vibrancy and depth that once intertwined with his own. Your eyes, they were magnetic and alive, and held stories Nanami wished he could still be a part of once more.

Have you lived the life you craved? The slow mornings you wished for, the tranquil nights of self-discovery— are they your reality now? He wishes, and he hopes, you are living the life he once thought he could give.

He can’t have that for himself for the way he chose to live, but it’s enough to know that you will.

Needless to say, you look... happy. And that's good, he wants to remember you happy.

For the first time in a while, Nanami didn’t mind working past beyond his normal work hours.

As the bus sighed to a halt, a mechanical exhale preparing for its nocturnal journey, his heart sank. He trailed your figure as you boarded, fingers twitching with a phantom ache — a desire to reach out, to rewind the clock and script a different narrative for your shared history.

But before he could do so, the bus pulled away, carrying you into the night and leaving him alone with the shadows of what could have been.

[PRESENT]

Nanami, for the most part, isn't one to regret his decisions.

This battlefield, this life — it was all worthwhile, he thought. Yet, as the cold grip of finality tightened, an unbidden thought surfaced — a flicker of regret for the one decision that echoed through the corridors of his last seven minutes of memories: letting you slip away.

Oh. You. Why is he thinking of you? Where are you? 

Where was he, in the first place? 

“You can say your last wishes, sorcerer,” a venomous, spectral voice pierced the air.

Last wishes?

Oh. That’s right. He was here, engaged in a desperate struggle. The students, are they safe? He has to get back at them. They need help.

But he can’t move. It hurts. Everything hurts.

Tired… I'm so tired. 

“I don't believe in wishes,” he managed to rasp.

More so, he no longer believed in them.

I’ve done enough, haven’t I, Y/N?

Nanami isn't one to regret his decisions, but the moment he thought of your name, he began to spend his last minutes wondering what could have been if his last wish came true.

Because if it did, it would've been you. It would be just you and him, wandering lost somewhere in Malaysia.

And he wouldn't be here. Instead, he would be coming home to you.

If wishes do come true, it would be just a life with you.

Yet, in the face of the harsh truth, wishes don’t always come true. Still, those seven minutes— the final seven minutes of memories with you— it’s enough consolation.

It was a life worth watching.

And If My Wishes Came True ⊹

note. i love him, tenderly. he deserved the best things in life. in my mind, he's alive.


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3 years ago

“Wasn’t that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted.”

— Abraham Verghese


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4 years ago

do u ever zone out but ur aware that ur zoned out but ur too lazy to zone back in

1 year ago

ding!

Ding!

. . . nanami kento. a promise not meant to be broken.

Ding!

note. spoilers ahead.

Ding!

there’s a saying that promises are meant to be broken.

although many lived by this, kento believed that it wasn’t right to do so. when kento makes a promise, he knows that he may own up to it through and through—a silent oath to himself, perhaps a reassurance.

he holds his promises close to his heart, and there was never a time when kento made a promise and didn’t keep it. he was a man of his word, and he considered this to be one of his best traits as a human and a significant other.

you were six when kento made his first promise to you.

“i promise to marry you someday!”

ah, you two were so young back then. 

the innocence that a child possesses with their simple declarations of affection and love is so adorable, you just nodded happily, not understanding the concept of marriage that well—though your parents did tell you that marriage was something that two people who are sure to spend their lives together would commit to. kento, back then, was much more cheery and bright—just like a beaming bee that was buzzing with excitement.

“yay!”

you could only nod excitedly at him, and kento’s smile was definitely glued to his face for the rest of the day.

when kento made his second promise to you, you were both in your first-year at tokyo jujutsu high. 

“what’s this?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“a promise ring,” he simply replies. “i know it may seem silly to engage in something like this, but i just wanted to—“

he didn’t even finish his sentence as you couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

he gave you a curious glance; his head tilts to the side, his eyes furrowing in the ever-so-slightest of confusion. “is something the matter?”

“i’m sorry, kento,” you say, making an honest attempt to keep your laughter to yourself. “i just really like your hair. it’s very interesting how you manage to get your soft hair to look like that specifically.”

kento gives you a certain look, unamused by you poking fun at his hair, though he did not pay much mind to it, smiling to himself as he sees that beautiful smile of yours as you continue to laugh at him.

it was cheesy for kento to admit that your smile always made his day a bit brighter and better, so he just never said it verbally, and yet the fond, tender look in his eyes always gave it away.

“i promise to always stay out of trouble and to always take care of myself when dealing with curses,” he says to you, and it’s the way that his words seemed so desperate to let you know that he was being sincere and truthful to himself.

a plea, a vow, to you, his future spouse.

not only was he going to do this for himself but for you as well.

kento flicks your forehead when he notices that your jaw is hanging open.

“you’ll catch flies in your mouth.”

and everything was history after that.

“you’ll be back before our trip to malaysia, right?” you ask, swiftly tying your husband’s necktie.

“of course, of course,” he softly replies.

you two are twenty-eight now. happily married and would be celebrating your second anniversary in kuantan, malaysia soon enough. it was something that you two planned out with excellent precision, knowing that your schedules were always full and were hard to match with each other.

“i promise.” he says, and a soft, chaste kiss is placed on your cheek after his words. 

“i’m always where i need to be on time, no?”

you nod at his words, smiling. “you better be. this trip took away months of my lifespan just to plan out.”

kento chuckles, and it’s one of those times when he indulges you in hearing his genuine, amused laughter. it’s one of those times when nanami feels like he could take on the world with you by his side. 

it feels surreal, but it is a definite reality.

“i love you, kento. be safe, ok?” you murmur to him.

“of course, love. i promise.”

he promised.

and yet, as the news of his unfortunate death was delivered to you, you swore your heart was being crushed a billion times over. was this some sort of sick joke? no, that couldn’t be. a matter like this should never be joked about.

there’s a saying that promises are meant to be broken.

you didn’t think too much of this saying, seeing that kento was more than capable of living up to his promises, even if it killed him.

even if it killed him.

kento’s promise to you was a promise not meant to be broken. 

but alas, you could always forgive him, right?

you could forgive him as you mourn in his empty grave with only his treasured belongings buried with his casket, right?

you are twenty-eight when kento says his final promise to you. an unfulfilled promise, at that.

Ding!

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.


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1 year ago

yeonru's corner of the internet

personal account est. 2023 (@yeonruwu 's main acc)

hello everyone! sorry for the very late notice! you might've encountered this profile as "@/shinzotako", but there will be a lot of changes.

what happened to your anime edits? i just wanted to let you all know that i won't be posting any edits/layouts anymore here in this blog. i will also be archiving all my posts. if you follow me for the anime edits, layouts, aesthetics or any of the sort - feel free to unfollow now that i won't post stuff like that anymore. regardless, thank you for the hearts on my posts this past year.

current state of your acc? i have converted this into a personal acc hyperfixating on my current fandoms: hq, jjk, aot, tbhk, etc. this will be a reading account from now on. that's all, thank you! have a great day or night!


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1 year ago

ding!

Ding!

. . . gojo satoru. to me, to you.

Ding!

note. vague manga spoilers ahead. i’d love to elaborate more on this dynamic; please let me know if you want me to as well.

Ding!

satoru does not remember much of his childhood.

to him, memories of forever ago are left as though they were faded film strips, too damaged to even try and make something out of them. he doesn’t dwell on that part of his life because all he could ever recall was when he’s enlightened of his fate and the omnipotent power he possesses from a very young age.

but he did, however, catch a glimpse and managed to hold on—cling to—a few of the good ones.

and those memories were mostly with you.

“someone’s lost in their train of thought.” he hears your voice approaching from behind. he merely shrugs his shoulders, relaxing against the marble railing of his estate’s balcony.

“mm. yeah, guess i am.”

you offered him a can of soda—his favorite brand and flavor—that you brought with you. satoru’s lips curled into a small smirk as he awed at the thought of you remembering despite almost two decades of not seeing each other.

“you remembered.”

“of course. why wouldn’t i?” you reply with a quick, feeble chuckle. “you always used to nag me about how you could only ever enjoy a few sodas.”

“i just have preferences,” he tells you with a slight nudge to your side. “and it just so happened to be very specific.” he glances at the can he held, and though he had his blindfold on, he could still tell that you got it right; you got it down to a t. “i knew you loved me.”

“in your dreams.”

“mhm. in my dreams, indeed.”

“oh, god. i hate you.”

“i knew you missed me.”

you rolled your eyes at his remark, glancing at his soda, then taking a gulp of your own. “still your favorite, right?”

satoru doesn’t know what you’re referring to. whether you’re asking if you’re still his favorite or the soda, though he does have a concrete answer.

“yep! you’re so thoughtful, even though you pretend to have not missed me.”

“don’t feed your little ego, ‘toru. your head’s going to keep on expanding until it’s the size of a hot air balloon.”

“hey!”

conversations breeze by like the chilly night air, creeping in and making their way known. he thinks this is the most he’s ever felt like he’s home. his childhood home, a haven where he felt safe and could truly live a life that his younger self was deprived of duty to a handful of “duties” and whatnot.

it’s like the calm before the storm. the rest—his rest—before he takes on something that he should’ve dealt with a long, long time ago. he’s not afraid, oh no.

because he is satoru, after all. the strongest.

and then the memory of someone he also held close to his heart replays, like a sudden alarm that wanted to remind him.

“are you the strongest because you’re gojo satoru? or are you gojo satoru because you’re the strongest?”

“a penny for thought?” you ask, noticing his sudden quietness.

he perks up, a bit stunned in place. “just a question,” he sighs, setting his drink aside for later. “who am i to you?”

he thinks it’s stupid because he’ll always feel that there’s a barrier that separates him from others. from you. because he’s the strongest, and that’s what it means to be the strongest, right? to feel as though you’re being distanced from everybody else.

“who you are . . . to me?” you said, tilting your head to the side. “like, how i see you?”

“yes.”

god, satoru swallows the lump in his throat, anticipation clinging to his whole body as he waits.

“oh, well . . .”

he expected a handful of answers, but none of them ever came close to yours.

“is it weird that i still feel like i’m talking to fifteen-year-old you?” you told him. “it’s like my mind’s still processing to bridge the gap of our memories together; to fill in the years we haven’t seen each other, y’know?”

“i see you as ‘toru. and to me, you are just ‘toru. that same ‘toru who i’ve been with since when we’re literally in diapers,

who kept on annoying me to wear matching pajamas when we were kids for the sleepover he begged his parents to agree to,

that same ‘toru who was spoiled to the core that he was so surprised that he went quiet when little me decided that they were over it with your incessant whining of wanting to play on the seesaw when they wanted to play on the sand box,

thee ‘toru who’s eyes almost always surprised me during the most random times, in a good way, of course.”

ah, now he remembers. those good memories, which were probably his core ones.

“you’re satoru—no, ‘toru,” you hum, thrumming your finger against the marble top. “my best friend. not the strongest sorcerer, not the wielder of the six eyes, not the teacher at jujutsu tech, but just ‘toru. my ‘toru. ”

satoru swore he’d lost his voice upon listening to your answer. and suddenly he feels as though he were a little kid again, looking at you with the utmost adoration—slight infatuation, even—as you told him through his little tears that it was normal to scrape his knee when he’s learning to ride a bike to be able to join you!

“thanks,” he says with a chuckle. “didn’t know i needed to hear all of that until now.”

“don’t mention it, ‘toru,” you nod. “ah, now that sounded sappy. ew! bleh, thought i left all of that behind.”

“heh, i like it when you’re a sap,” he mused.

“of course you do. but we have a lot to catch up on, so you better not die out there, mr. sorcerer.”

he smiles at that. “yeah. i’ll keep that in mind.”

“you still have those big, blue eyes you always used to get out of trouble?”

“knew you missed my eyes, too.”

“do not. you sure they’re not neon green now?”

“ha. ha. funny.” for a moment, he takes his time to remove his blindfold, his hand shaking a little as he does so. he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

“look.”

satoru notices the way you paused, examining how his features have matured over the years, and yet he’s still the satoru you knew. your ‘toru, as you said so yourself.

“eh. put the blindfold back on.”

“y/n!”

“i’m just saying,” you laugh a little. “your eyes haven’t changed; still as ethereal as ever.” you slid your half-empty soda next to his, signaling that you wanted him to finish yours. he’s known this for so long.

“let’s catch up again when you’re free, ok? i already gave you my number, right?”

he glances at the can, seeing the number—your number—written against the glossy layer. “yeah, do you want me to walk you home?” he offers, soft and warm.

you shook your head. “some other time, ‘toru.”

he nods in understanding as he watches you leave. as you fade alongside the background, slowly yet surely, satoru’s memories of his childhood are rekindled, outdoing his dim ones.

he’s glad that you’re home.

Ding!

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.


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1 year ago

ding!

Ding!

. . . fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru. too young to be singing the blues.

Ding!

note. used the recent chapter 230 leaks as reference + spoilers for the manga franchise ahead.

Ding!

“how is he?”

“he’s well . . he’s still recovering, and hasn’t woken up yet.”

your eyes vaguely gloss over as you take in megumi’s state. his body lay unconscious on the hospital bed, showing not much sign of progress. the slow, rhythmic beeping of the medical equipment that aided his recovery reverberated around the room—and it rang in your ears like an endless gong. you were afraid of what could happen to his vital signs the moment you tended to your other patients.

satoru nods, softly closing the door. his usually beaming, carefree mood is dampened to nothing but a worried, exhausted feeling that eats him away bit by bit. you’ve never seen him be this genuine with his emotions after the major events that took place, but could you really blame him? the kid got lost being a vessel for the king of curses and had to endure his formidable power, almost losing his own life and what’s left of his soul in the process.

“could you open the blinds a bit?” you asked quietly, studying the nurses’ recent reports on megumi’s condition. “megs always scolds me when i rarely let the light in our house.” a bitter sigh escaped your lips as you remembered the memory. “the kid thinks i’m turning into a vampire when he sees me all cooped up in my office.”

satoru chuckles at that, and he does as he’s requested. “i remember.”

. . .

“do you think he’ll wake up?”

a deafening pause followed. neither of you two—or any other medical professional out there in the big, wide world—could really provide a definite answer. but still, someone had to ask what the other thought. to navigate through a raging sea of thoughts and feelings that could drown someone, communication had not always been your forte in the relationship, but now that the storm’s been calmed—even for the briefest of moments—you and satoru wanted to be honest with each other.

cut the bullshit; disregard the thought of not wanting to burden one another.

“i don’t know,” you answer truthfully, and your voice wavers as you do so. “but i won’t ever lose hope that one day he’ll be awake, asking me what i’ll be making for breakfast because i know he wants something specific for that day. . . just like he used to.”

“mm, yeah,” he agrees, observing you take a seat on the opposite side of megumi’s bed, opposite of satoru. “he’s a tough kid,” he says, his hand fiddling with the cold metal bar. “he got that from you, y’know?”

you roll your eyes at his comment. “really? and he got his hardheadedness from you.” you murmur, glancing at megumi who’s still unresponsive. “he could get a bit reckless with his missions, too. guess who he got that from.”

“hey!” satoru pouts slightly, but it’s all to lighten the situation. “well, you know. . . megumi’s keen on his surroundings and often— what’s the word? he picks things up easily.”

“really, you two being reckless would cause me to age thirty times faster.”

“come on, that’s not true.”

“it is.”

“if that’s the case, how old are you now, then?”

“physically, i’m twenty-nine. mentally, i think i’m in my late sixties.”

“wow, ok. you’re an elderly person now,” he cheekily smiled. “does that mean we’ll see you in the priority lanes at fast food establishments?”

you gave him a glare. “whatever, gojo satoru.”

“ooh, using my full name? i think i made the old-timer mad.”

“shut up!” you chuckled.

Ding!

“i should turn down the ac,” satoru says, arranging a new bouquet of megumi’s favorite flowers on the displayed vase. “yuuji and the others visited earlier this afternoon, and it’s safe to say that they’re still hoping for your fast recovery.”

no response.

he quietly sighed, turning down the air conditioner’s thermostat just a bit. “you hate it when the room’s too cold, right? you always wanted to stay in whenever winter got too cold for your liking.”

once again, he’s met with just the occasional beeping of megumi’s medical equipment.

it’s been a year and a half, and there’s still not much news.

“you’re early, ‘toru.” satoru looks at you as you enter the room.

and the first thing he greets you with is, “you look like shit.” not even a simple, “hey” or “have you eaten?” really, he had to greet you with that?

you contemplate whether you should smack him with the wooden clipboard you’re holding. and so you did, smacking it against his side playfully. satoru, ever the dramatic lover, whines as he soothes the area you hit.

“hello to you, too.”

“hmph.” he crosses his arms over his chest. “can you believe this, megumi? they’re being mean to me again. it just slipped, ok? i think you’re a very hardworking doctor, and your job is very admirable. love you.”

“don’t act all lovey-dovey with me,” you told him, sitting next to megumi’s bed. “you still haven’t washed the dishes.”

“i did!”

“whatever you say.”

satoru slumps on the spot on the opposite side of you. “have you finished your rounds?”

“yeah,” you answer, leaning your head on the cold side rail. “i think i’m going to get a quick shut-eye before i take on another shift.”

“really, you need to get some sleep. stop taking on more work than your body and mind can handle,” he frowned. “why don’t we go home and come back tomorrow?”

“no, no.” you yawn. “i . . .”

there was a pause, and satoru thought you had already fallen asleep.

“i want to be here when he wakes up. megumi might wake up and become worried that he’s all alone, no? or he might panic— i . . . don’t want to go home, satoru.”

because home is where satoru and megumi is.

he nods, deciding not to go against it. “alright, i’ll stay here with you, then.”

“mm. don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“don’t worry, i’ll handle it.” satoru stood up, draping his trenchcoat over your figure and giving you a reassuring side hug as he knelt beside you. “get some sleep, yeah?” he murmurs, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “we’ll be here when megumi wakes up. promise.”

Ding!

the room is dimly lit by the moonlight that filters through the windows, illuminating softly against megumi’s skin. he stirs awake and blinks slowly through his half-asleep daze. he felt exhausted, and could barely move his head or his hands. uncomfortable with how lethargic he was and the environment he was in, he became worried.

what happened?

where was he?

was everyone okay?

was he okay?

at the feeling of a warm hand on either of his, his eyes glanced over to see who they belonged to.

yours and satoru’s, over megumi’s undoubtedly cold ones.

you had your head on the vacant portion of the bed, and satoru leaned on the side rail, both of you sleeping peacefully. safe and unharmed.

and it’s almost surprising how quickly he felt reassured. a feeble attempt at smiling is made, and megumi relaxes—he’s safe; he’s fine, because he had the two people who cared most about him by his side in his frailest moment. megumi thinks that he’s reverted back to his seven-year-old state, where he feels absolutely embarrassed to even tell you or satoru that he’s had an awful dream.

nevertheless, he’s content with this.

he’s home, after all.

Ding!

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.


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yeonruco - to make it with you
to make it with you

⎗ : xix'. she/her. main acc. i read here mostly - multifandom ៹

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