nanami's bitch

♡ she/her ♡ ♡ check rules! ♡

[riritzuu]

happy nanami day to those who celebrate 🌊✨

[nanamisbitch]

im trying to write a Jjk!college au with bsf!Megumi. Are yall interested 😞 it's like a multi part FIC ig idk HELP!!!

[nanamisbitch]

Birthdays with Kento have never been loud. There are no surprise parties waiting around corners, no reservations at expensive restaurants where the staff inevitably appear carrying sparklers and singing far too enthusiastically for either of your comfort, no carefully orchestrated attempts to make him the center of a room. He'd confessed to you years ago, almost sheepishly over a cup of coffee, that birthdays had always felt oddly performative—as though everyone expected him to react to gifts and congratulations in exactly the right way, when all he'd ever wanted was a peaceful day with someone he loved. Ever since then, you've made it your quiet mission to keep it that way. So dinner is exactly what he likes: a small restaurant tucked between two sleepy streets where the owner recognizes the two of you without making a fuss, the kind of place where conversations stay soft beneath warm lighting and the only birthday acknowledgment is the gentle squeeze of your hand beneath the table when dessert arrives. By the time the plates have been cleared and the waiter disappears with a polite nod, Kento is visibly lighter than he'd been walking in, the tension around his shoulders having softened into something almost boyish. You smile to yourself, tracing lazy circles around the condensation on your water glass before finally looking up at him. "One request," you say, trying—and failing—to hide the excitement creeping into your voice. He raises an eyebrow over the rim of his tea. "Only one?" "Keep a little space in your stomach." A pause. "...Why?" "Because," you reply with a grin that grows wider the longer he studies you, "I'm stealing you for a walk after this." His eyes narrow ever so slightly, that familiar look settling across his face whenever he realizes you've been planning something behind his back. "You've arranged something." "Maybe." "You've been smiling like that all evening." "I've been smiling because it's your birthday." "No," he says, impossibly calm, setting his cup down with the quiet certainty of a man who already knows he's right. "That's your planning smile." Your jaw drops in mock offense. "...I have different smiles?" "Mm." "You're making those up." "Am I?" "Absolutely." The corner of his mouth lifts into the faintest smile. "Then why are you blushing?"

"You are unbelievably annoying on your birthday," you mutter as the two of you step back out onto the pavement, your voice carrying just enough that an elderly couple walking past glance over with amused smiles. The moment you realize you've said it louder than intended, your shoulders instinctively curl in on themselves. "Sorry," you mumble almost immediately, rubbing the back of your neck. "I didn't mean to say that so... loudly." It happens before you can stop it. It always does. Happiness comes out loud. Frustration comes out louder. Even your apologies seem to echo farther than everyone else's. You catch yourself looking around, wondering if anyone had found you irritating, if they'd decided within those five seconds that you were one of those people who talked too much, laughed too hard, took up too much space. It's a habit you wish you could break. Kento notices, of course he notices, because he always does. "You're thinking again," he says quietly, falling into step beside you. "I'm not." "You apologized three times in one sentence." "...Did I?" "Mm." You sigh dramatically. "I just... people stare." "They're walking." "Kento." "They were walking before you spoke." "That's not the point." "Then tell me the point." You open your mouth, ready with the explanation that has lived inside your head for years, the one that always spills out far longer than you intend. "It's just... okay, so when I was younger, teachers used to separate me from my friends because I'd talk too much, and then at university people would sort of..." You stop yourself halfway through, groaning as you press the heels of your hands against your face. "See? I'm doing it again." "Doing what?" "Giving you my entire life story when all you asked was one question." You peek at him through your fingers. "Normal people would've just said, 'I overthink.'" Kento's expression doesn't change. It rarely does. But there's something impossibly gentle in the way he reaches over to pull one of your hands away from your face, his fingers fitting easily between yours. "I didn't ask for the short version," he says simply. "I asked for yours." For a heartbeat, you forget where you're walking altogether.

You recover the only way you know how—by talking. "Okay, but that's exactly what I mean," you say, pointing at him with your free hand before remembering you're still holding his and awkwardly pointing with the one that's trapped instead. "You say things like that, and then my brain starts thinking, 'Well, maybe he doesn't actually mean it, maybe he's just being nice because he's Kento,' and then I start explaining why I think that, which turns into another explanation because context is important, and before I know it I've somehow connected my fear of first impressions to that one time in eighth grade when a girl told me I was exhausting, which, by the way, was incredibly rude because I was literally just excited about penguins and she asked me why they—" You stop yourself so abruptly your lips press into a thin line. "...I did it again." The words come out in a defeated little sigh, your gaze dropping to the pavement as you give his hand an absent squeeze. "I'm sorry. I know I ramble. I always think, 'Okay, this time I'll answer normally,' and then I don't. I don't even realize I've wandered off until I'm already halfway through a completely different story." You laugh, though it comes out smaller than you'd intended. "It's actually kind of embarrassing. Sometimes I leave conversations and replay the whole thing in my head because I'm convinced the other person went home thinking, 'God, she never shuts up.'" The confession hangs between you longer than you'd like. The city hums around you—traffic somewhere in the distance, laughter drifting from a nearby café, the occasional breeze tugging at your sleeves—but Kento doesn't rush to fill the silence. He never does. Instead, he slows his pace until you're walking almost aimlessly, his thumb brushing once across your knuckles before he finally speaks. "Do you know," he says, looking ahead rather than at you, "how many things I learn about you because you insist on giving me the context?" You blink. "What?" "You tell stories the way most people hand someone a photograph." His grip on your hand tightens just slightly. "You don't show me the finished picture. You show me how it was taken, who was standing just outside the frame, what happened before it, what happened after. By the time you've finished, I understand not only what you're telling me..." He glances over then, meeting your eyes with that steady warmth that always makes the rest of the world seem to fade into the background. "...but why it mattered enough for you to remember." Your throat tightens before you can stop it. "Kento..." "I've never found that exhausting," he says softly. "I've only ever found it honest."

You look at him for a long moment, suspiciously, because there's a dangerous sort of sincerity in Kento's voice that always threatens to undo you. "You're biased," you decide eventually, narrowing your eyes at him. "I am." He doesn't even hesitate. "You love me." "I do." "So obviously you're going to say nice things." "Probably." You huff, though you can't quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "That doesn't count." "Why not?" "Because..." You gesture vaguely into the night, searching for words that refuse to line up properly. "Because you're supposed to think nice things about me." "Am I?" "Yes." "Who decided that?" "...Me." "I see." "Don't 'I see' me." A quiet laugh escapes him, so soft that had you not been walking beside him, you might've missed it altogether. "You spend an extraordinary amount of time trying to convince yourself that everyone else is evaluating you as harshly as you evaluate yourself," he says after a while, his gaze lifting toward the skyline painted gold by the setting sun. "You worry that you're too loud when you laugh, too emotional when you cry, too talkative when you're excited, too honest when someone asks how you're doing. Every version of yourself that comes naturally to you is immediately followed by an apology, as though existing sincerely is something that inconveniences other people." You fall quiet. Not because he's wrong—quite the opposite. The words settle somewhere deep enough that they leave you unable to reach for a joke this time. "I know where that habit comes from," he continues gently. "But I wish, just once, you could see yourself the way I do." You swallow hard, blinking rapidly as your eyes begin to sting. "Don't..." you warn, your voice already wobbling. "I'm serious." "Kento." "You think your laughter is disruptive." His fingers lace more securely through yours. "I think it's impossible not to smile when I hear it from another room. You think you talk too much." Another step. "I think you make ordinary stories feel worth listening to." Another. "You think your emotions are overwhelming." His thumb brushes over your hand again. "I've always admired that you care enough to feel them so completely." You laugh despite yourself, though it comes out embarrassingly wet through the tears you're trying—and failing—to blink away. "See?" you sniff. "Now I'm crying in public." He glances at you with the smallest hint of amusement. "Yes." "...Loudly." "Not yet." You let out a watery groan that turns into a laugh halfway through, and Kento smiles to himself, quietly pleased. "There you are," he murmurs, almost too softly to hear. "I was wondering when I'd get my favourite sound back."

By the time you finally stop walking, the city has begun to dissolve into evening. The streets are still busy enough to feel alive, but the hurried rhythm of office workers has softened into couples strolling home, children tugging their parents toward convenience stores, friends laughing over drinks outside little cafés. You slow in front of a narrow stone path tucked between rows of hydrangea bushes, so unassuming that Kento would have walked straight past it had you not gently tugged him by the hand. "This way," you announce, unable to hide the grin spreading across your face despite your best efforts. He follows without question, though you can practically feel the curiosity radiating off him now. The path opens into a small hilltop clearing overlooking the river, a place so quietly hidden it feels almost secret. There are only a handful of people scattered across the grass—an elderly couple sharing a thermos of tea, two children chasing each other with glow sticks, someone reading beneath the lone maple tree—and beyond them, the skyline stretches wide and uninterrupted, the river reflecting the first hints of twilight like molten glass. You let go of his hand only long enough to spread the small blanket you'd somehow managed to hide in your bag all evening, smoothing the corners with unnecessary concentration simply to avoid looking at him. "So..." you begin, words tumbling over one another the way they always do whenever you're nervous. "I may have walked this route... three different times this week. Well, technically four, because on Tuesday I came too early and realized half the trees were blocking the view, which was actually kind of devastating because I thought I'd found the perfect spot, but then I remembered this little hill from when I got lost after work last month—which, by the way, I wasn't actually lost, I just took a very committed wrong turn—and anyway..." You stop yourself with a quiet groan, covering your face with both hands. "...I swear I had a shorter version of this explanation." A soft breeze drifts across the clearing, carrying with it the scent of the river and the distant murmur of people gathering somewhere beyond the bridge. Kento says nothing at first. He simply looks out across the skyline, then back at you, taking in the careful way you'd chosen a spot just far enough from everyone else to give him space without isolating the two of you completely. No crowds pressing in. No strangers brushing shoulders. No expectations. Just enough people that neither of you would stand out, and enough quiet that the evening could belong entirely to yourselves. "You planned all this," he says finally, his voice so gentle it almost disappears into the wind. You peek at him through your fingers, cheeks already warming. "...I might've done a little research." His eyes linger on you for another heartbeat before lifting toward the darkening sky, and the smallest, fondest smile settles onto his face. "I thought we were going for a walk," he murmurs. "We are," you reply, unable to suppress your own smile now. "We just... happened to walk somewhere beautiful."

The first firework arrives so quietly that you almost miss it. A single golden bloom unfurls high above the river before dissolving into a shower of glittering light, and then another follows, and another, until the entire sky is awash in colors that ripple across the water beneath you. Around the clearing, conversations soften into awed murmurs, children point excitedly toward the skyline, and somewhere behind you someone lets out a delighted gasp that earns a chorus of laughter. Instinctively, you turn to look at Kento instead. You'd spent the better part of two weeks worrying whether he'd enjoy this, wondering if you'd accidentally planned something that felt too loud, too crowded, too much for someone who'd always preferred quiet celebrations. He isn't looking at the fireworks. He's looking at you. "What?" you ask, laughing a little too loudly before immediately catching yourself. "...Sorry." His brow furrows ever so slightly. "For what?" "Nothing. I just..." You glance away, suddenly fascinated by the grass beneath your shoes. "Never mind." Kento reaches for your hand, his fingers slotting so naturally between yours that it feels less like a gesture and more like returning something that had always belonged there. "You haven't asked me once whether I like it," he says. You blink. "...I was trying not to." "You've been trying very hard." "...Because I didn't want you to feel like you had to say yes just because I planned it." The admission slips out before you can stop it, accompanied by a sheepish little shrug. "I know you don't like disappointing people." He studies you for a long moment before quietly lifting your joined hands and pressing the gentlest kiss against your knuckles. "May I answer the question you haven't asked?" You nod. "I don't think I've ever had a birthday where someone understood me this thoroughly." The next firework erupts overhead, painting gold across his glasses for the briefest moment before fading into darkness again. You don't notice it. Not when he's looking at you like that. "Happy birthday," you whisper, and before you can overthink whether kissing him in public is too much, you rise onto your toes and press your lips softly against his. He smiles into it almost immediately, one hand settling so carefully against your jaw that it feels impossibly precious. It isn't hurried. It isn't dramatic. Just slow, lingering, and warm enough to make the rest of the world disappear until another burst of light blooms somewhere behind your closed eyes.When the final firework fades into smoke and applause ripples gently through the little clearing, Kento gives your hand a small squeeze before reluctantly letting go. "Stay here," he says, already reaching for his wallet. You tilt your head. "Where are you going?" "You'll see." Before you can ask another question, he's already making his way toward a tiny vendor cart parked near the entrance of the park, exchanging a few quiet words with the elderly man behind it. You watch him from the blanket, smiling to yourself as he returns several minutes later carrying an uncorked bottle of wine tucked beneath one arm, a vanilla ice cream cone in one hand, and a bright mango ice pop in the other. "You remembered," you say before you can stop yourself, accepting the ice pop with both hands as though it's something terribly precious. "You always choose mango." He settles beside you, offering you the bottle after taking the smallest sip himself. "And you always pretend you'll try another flavor." You laugh because he's right. Every single summer you insist you'll branch out, only to walk away with mango anyway. The wine is cool against your lips, crisp enough to chase away the lingering sweetness of dinner, and the two of you pass the bottle back and forth without ceremony, trading quiet observations between bites of melting ice cream.

At one point, a streak of vanilla finds its way onto the corner of Kento's mouth, and before he can reach for a napkin, you're already leaning over with an exaggerated gasp. "Hold still." He obeys without question, watching with quiet amusement as you wipe it away using nothing more than your thumb before absentmindedly kissing the corner of his mouth where the smudge had been. "...There," you declare proudly. "Problem solved." "I wasn't aware there was a problem." "There was vanilla on your face." "A terrible tragedy." "Exactly." He chuckles under his breath, taking another thoughtful bite of his cone before glancing sideways at you. "I believe," he says, his voice carrying that familiar warmth that always sounds a little softer when it's meant only for you, "that this may be my favourite birthday." You pretend to consider it, taking one last bite of your mango ice pop before bumping your shoulder gently against his. "Even without a cake?" "Especially without a cake." "Good," you grin, loud enough that a family packing up their picnic smiles over at you. This time, you don't apologize for it. Kento notices that, too, and though he says nothing, the look he gives you feels like a celebration all its own.

happiest birthday kento😞🫶🏼

(heavily based on me🫩)

©nanami's bitch 2026 do not modify, repost, translate on any platform

[lvrs4nxna]

08. kiss me and I might..

previous chapter.. | next chapter..

ᯓᡣ𐭩 megumi fushiguro. how could you even being to explain megumi fushiguro? collected in public, and a total fucking idiot in private. oh, and he hated the title ‘campus bad boy’

warnings/tags: ooc (?), fem!reader, yuji’s twin sister!reader, cussing, yeaner!megumi, college!au, modern!au, aged up! characters, ANGST, itadori family lore (hints of child neglect?), holy argument, bro they’re argument was lowk inspired by funnybunny BYE, mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol use

a/n: see how Megumi’s still not locked in

divider by @doll-fairy

©lvrs4nxna - all rights reserved. Do not republish, translate, steal, or feed my work to Al.

permanent tag list: @hearts2vivi @sugerfilled @lookacat @valeriestulips @shhhhhhxoxo125 @xombied @i-liketoast @deadmorgue @chosoissohotugh @tringushi @balladofjaynedoe @vivimsical @mysizzlingsteak @chuuyan4kahara @megumiimeow @kittyguumi @megssleepygirl @beninn @hituwithazubat @meowieees @notlikeothernerds @veronicalosr @eilishgf @kentosvntr @belchyra @megurei @thatonepupkai @catboygumi @megumisrighttoe @nonchalantfiend @leviackermanswaifu @bri22222 @satorugojo-is-hot @meowwwsss @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @renrenrenren17 @jennyistrendy @tyrantfe @wxyunni @ch4ulvr @kaemaybae @wiishies @lipstainedgemini @sillystarv @megumiguro @pawwwginaaa @ch4ulvr @tojirin

[nanamisbitch]

Long day?

The television is still on when Denki eases the apartment door shut behind him, the familiar voices of the evening news hushed beneath the soft crackle of static. Rescue footage loops across the screen—collapsed buildings, emergency lights washing the streets in blue and red, helicopters circling overhead—and he catches a glimpse of himself disappearing behind a wall of smoke before the camera cuts away. You must've been watching. Waiting. He slips his shoes off without a sound, shoulders heavy beneath the weight of a day that had asked far too much of him, and rounds the corner into the living room only to stop. You're curled into the corner of the couch, head tipped awkwardly against the cushions, your two-month-old daughter tucked safely against your chest with one impossibly tiny fist tangled in your shirt. The blanket you'd meant to throw over yourself has slipped to the floor. Denki stares for a long moment, something in his chest loosening at the sight. Home. He crouches beside the couch carefully, easing one hand beneath the baby's back. "C'mon, sweetheart..." he whispers, voice rough with exhaustion. The moment she leaves your arms, she squirms with a tiny, indignant whine. Your eyes flutter open almost immediately. "...Denki?" His gaze lifts to yours, tired enough that he only manages a small nod. "Hey." The word is barely louder than a breath. You push yourself upright, worry already settling across your face, but he shakes his head before you can ask. "Go to bed." Another pause. "I've got her." You hesitate, searching his face for a second longer before your hand reaches up to smooth back a stray lock of blond hair. "Okay," you murmur gently. "Don't stay up too long." He leans into your touch for the briefest moment, eyes slipping closed before he remembers the tiny girl tucked against his shoulder. "...Won't."

By the time he quietly settles your daughter into her bassinet, the apartment has fallen completely silent. The adrenaline has long since left his body, taking the last of his words with it. This is what hero work does to him now; no more dramatic short-circuiting or dazed laughter like it had back at U.A.—just an exhaustion so profound it settles into his bones until even speaking feels heavier than carrying concrete. He changes in the dark bedroom with slow, practiced movements, peeling away the soot-stained hero costume and folding each piece with absent care before pulling on an old T-shirt and sweatpants. You pretend to be asleep as he moves around the room, not because you don't want him to know you're awake, but because you know he needs these quiet moments where nothing is expected of him. When the mattress dips, you expect him to slide beneath the blankets beside you. Instead, he sinks to his knees beside the bed. Before you can ask what he's doing, he gently rests his cheek against your thighs, one arm draped lazily over your legs as though he'd simply run out of strength halfway through climbing into bed. His face disappears into the softness of your sleep shorts, warm breath fanning against your skin. Wordlessly, almost absentmindedly, his hands find your feet beneath the blankets, thumbs tracing slow circles across your arches. It's clumsy. Sleepy. More instinct than intention. Loving you has always been second nature, even on the days he has nothing left.

You let him stay there until his movements grow sluggish, until his thumbs stop altogether and his breathing begins to deepen against your legs. "Denki," you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair. He answers with the faintest hum, too tired to lift his head on his own, letting you guide him up with gentle hands cupping his cheeks. His eyes barely open. There are faint shadows beneath them, tiny cuts scattered along his jaw that you'd clean tomorrow morning, and the lingering scent of ozone still clinging to his skin despite the shower he'd take after sunrise instead of tonight. You don't say anything. You simply kiss his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, each cheek, the corner of his mouth, lingering just long enough for him to melt into every touch. His lashes flutter. A sleepy sigh escapes him. "Hi," he murmurs, so quietly you almost miss it. You smile, pressing one last kiss to his temple before easing him down onto the mattress beside you. He curls toward you immediately, one hand finding the hem of your shirt as if it had always belonged there. You tuck the blankets around him, brush your thumb over his cheek one last time, and pull him against your chest. Somewhere across the room, your daughter lets out a tiny contented sigh in her sleep. Denki's grip loosens just enough as sleep finally claims him, safe in the quiet certainty that, for tonight, someone else was taking care of the hero.

©nanami's bitch 2026 do not modify, repost, translate on any platform

[lvmimis]

“so someone threw their panties at me today.”

shoto’s abrupt and blunt manner of speaking still catches you off guard once in a while, and you practically spit out the drink he’d ordered for you before picking you up all over the dashboard of his nice (and most importantly, spotless) car. keeping it in, you then turn to him to catch his eyes not even off the road, and you get the sense he’s neither angry nor confessing, but there’s something else he’d like to discuss.

“um… were they used?”

“no idea. i dodged.”

you chuckle, taking another draw of your iced beverage.

“insane reflexes from our very best hero, of course.”

this does crack a smile and a glance from him.

“it did get me thinking though…” he adds, gripping the wheel gently.

“about what?”

he looks at you again, eyes pensive for a moment then quickly turning back to the road, his voice softening low.

“i want to buy you lingerie.”

your eyes flutter quickly, then your face warms.

“that’s the first thing you thought of after that happens?!”

“yeah, because if i’m going to get panties thrown at me, i’d rather they be yours.”

[lvrs4nxna]

07. the most alive I’ve ever been..

previous chapter.. | next chapter..

ᯓᡣ𐭩 megumi fushiguro. how could you even being to explain megumi fushiguro? collected in public, and a total fucking idiot in private. oh, and he hated the title ‘campus bad boy’

warnings/tags: ooc (?), fem!reader, yuji’s twin sister!reader, cussing, yeaner!megumi, college!au, modern!au, aged up! characters, ANGST ANGST ANGST, reader acting extremely out of character (she’s a complete ass in this I’m sorry), is this doomed yaoi, itadori family lore (mentions of car crash, [name]’s loss of childhood, drug use), damn EVERYONE is confessing, holy friendship breakup

a/n: how the fuh are we going to recover from this

divider by @doll-fairy

©lvrs4nxna - all rights reserved. Do not republish, translate, steal, or feed my work to Al.

permanent tag list: @hearts2vivi @sugerfilled @lookacat @valeriestulips @shhhhhhxoxo125 @xombied @i-liketoast @deadmorgue @chosoissohotugh @tringushi @balladofjaynedoe @vivimsical @mysizzlingsteak @chuuyan4kahara @megumiimeow @kittyguumi @megssleepygirl @beninn @hituwithazubat @meowieees @notlikeothernerds @veronicalosr @eilishgf @kentosvntr @belchyra @megurei @thatonepupkai @catboygumi @megumisrighttoe @nonchalantfiend @leviackermanswaifu @bri22222 @satorugojo-is-hot @meowwwsss @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @renrenrenren17 @jennyistrendy @tyrantfe @wxyunni @ch4ulvr @kaemaybae @wiishies @lipstainedgemini @sillystarv @megumiguro @pawwwginaaa @ch4ulvr @tojirin

[nanamisbitch]

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who moves to malaysia because it's the only promise he ever made to himself that survived everything else. The apartment isn't fancy, but it overlooks the sea. Some mornings you catch him standing on the balcony before sunrise, coffee in hand, staring at the horizon with the same distant look he used to wear before difficult missions. Only now, there's nowhere he needs to be.

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who still catches people staring. The scars running down the entire left side of his face make strangers look twice before quickly looking away. He pretends not to notice. You pretend not to notice him noticing. Instead, you reach for his hand whenever you're out together, and his grip tightens around yours every single time.

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who hates mirrors for the first few months. Not because the scars hurt anymore, but because they remind him of everyone who didn't get the chance to walk away. You never force him to talk about it. One day he catches his reflection while you're laughing beside him in a shop window and realizes it's the first time he hasn't immediately looked away.

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who starts gardening. Nobody knows why. One day there's a single potted plant on the balcony. A few months later there's an entire collection thriving under the tropical sun. Whenever you ask about it, he claims it's practical. The faint smile he hides when a new flower blooms says otherwise.

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who no longer wears high collars to hide the burns around you. At some point he realizes you've traced every scar with your eyes a thousand times and never once looked at him with pity. The acceptance settles somewhere deep inside his chest and stays there.

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who still wakes up from nightmares sometimes. You never ask what he saw. You simply reach for him in the dark. His breathing gradually steadies beneath your hand, and by morning he's pretending it never happened while quietly making your breakfast.

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who develops an embarrassing habit of following you around the apartment. If you're cooking, he's leaning against the counter reading. If you're doing laundry, he's nearby folding towels with unnecessary precision. If you're working, he's sitting close enough that your knees occasionally bump. Neither of you ever acknowledge it.

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who becomes softer in ways nobody from jujutsu high would believe. He remembers your favorite snacks. Carries an umbrella when rain is forecast. Brings you cold drinks before you realize you're thirsty. The world took so much from him that he treasures every small opportunity to care for someone he loves.

⊹ post-shibuya!nanami who sits beside you on the beach long after sunset, warm sand beneath your feet and ocean waves rolling endlessly ahead. His scarred profile catches the moonlight as he glances toward you. For once, there are no curses, no responsibilities, no impossible choices waiting tomorrow. Just you, him, and the life he never thought he'd get to have.

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₊˚. Requests are open😭!!

₊˚.reblogs are much appreciated!!!!

©nanami's bitch 2026 do not modify, repost, translate on any platform

[nanamisbitch]

⊹ bf!megumi who accidentally starts measuring time by you. Not dates or schedules—just you. "The café you liked opened around the time we started dating." "I bought this book when you were obsessed with that detective show." Somehow, every memory gets filed away with you attached to it.

⊹ bf!megumi who acts like your teasing doesn't affect him at all until one perfectly timed comment leaves him staring blankly at a wall for the next ten minutes. He'll recover eventually. Probably.

⊹ bf!megumi who owns dozens of photos of you and absolutely none of them are normal. Half are blurry candids he took without thinking. The other half are screenshots from video calls where you were making ridiculous faces. He treasures every single one.

⊹ bf!megumi who gets irrationally attached to random objects because they remind him of you. A pen you borrowed once. A hair tie left on his desk. A receipt from a convenience store trip. He'll keep them for months without realizing.

⊹ bf!megumi who learns your footsteps. You can be halfway down a hallway and he'll already know it's you. Everyone else sounds the same. You don't.

⊹ bf!megumi who starts sleeping better after you enter his life and never makes the connection. He just knows the nights feel quieter somehow, even when you're talking his ear off before bed.

⊹ bf!megumi who claims he doesn't care where you eat, then immediately vetoes every restaurant except the ones he knows you'll enjoy.

⊹ bf!megumi who gets weirdly competitive over the most random things. Not sports. Not games. Things like who can spot the neighborhood cat first or who remembers a movie quote correctly. He refuses to admit defeat.

⊹ bf!megumi who has a habit of collecting things he'd normally ignore because they remind him of you. A seashell from a beach trip. A pressed flower that fell out of a book you lent him. Little pieces of moments he'd never admit are sentimental.

⊹ bf!megumi who always notices when you're overstimulated before anyone else does. He'll quietly guide conversations away from you, move you somewhere calmer, or offer an escape route without drawing attention to it.

⊹ bf!megumi who becomes alarmingly soft around animals whenever you're present. It's bad enough that you caught him baby-talking one of his divine dogs once. He threatened to deny it until the day he dies.

⊹ bf!megumi who secretly likes hearing you complain about minor inconveniences. Not because you're upset—because he loves how animated you get. You'll spend ten minutes ranting about a rude cashier while he's sitting there thinking you're the most interesting person in the room.

⊹ bf!megumi who develops the habit of checking a crowd for you first whenever he arrives somewhere. Before he looks for friends, before he figures out where he's sitting, before anything else. His eyes automatically search for you.

⊹ bf!megumi who has exactly one favorite sound and it's your laugh. He'll never tell you that, though. He just finds himself causing trouble every now and then purely because he knows it'll make you laugh again.

⊹ bf!megumi who loves you so quietly that most people miss it entirely. Then they notice the way his eyes find you in every room, the way he unconsciously angles himself toward you, the way his entire expression softens whenever you speak—and suddenly it's impossible to miss.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

₊˚. Requests are open😭!!

₊˚.reblogs are much appreciated!!!!

©nanami's bitch 2026 do not modify, repost, translate on any platform

[nanamisbitch]

happiest birthday denks<3

"You know," Denki mumbles for what has to be the fifth time in the last ten minutes, his voice muffled where his face is tucked into the crook of your neck, "it's actually against the law to make the birthday boy let go of his fiancée." His arms tighten around your waist before you can even pretend to wiggle free, all warm limbs and lazy affection despite the sun having long since climbed through the apartment windows. The media would never believe that the same Pro Hero Chargebolt, who confidently stood before cameras and coordinated rescue operations with startling precision, spent his birthdays acting like an oversized house cat. You laugh, reaching back to rake your fingers through the soft blond strands sticking up every which way. "I'm literally just trying to make you breakfast." "I don't want breakfast." He pauses just long enough to press a sleepy kiss beneath your ear. "I want... this." "You're impossible." "I'm the birthday boy," he says, entirely too pleased with himself. "It's my legal right to be unbearable today." His grin brushes against your skin, and somehow, impossibly, he still manages to sound proud when he adds, "Besides, you said yes to marrying me. This is kind of on you."

"You've been staring at me," you point out later, setting a mug in front of him as he sits at the kitchen counter, chin propped in both hands. "I have." "It's a little creepy." "It's incredibly romantic." He doesn't even blink before answering, watching you wander around the kitchen with the same soft smile he's worn all morning. Every now and then, your eyes catch his, only to find him exactly where you'd left him—completely, unapologetically smitten. "You're making coffee like it's the most fascinating thing in the world." "It is when you're making it." "Denki." "What?" He shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "I'm appreciating my fiancée. You should be grateful I'm not writing poetry." You snort. "Oh? You write poetry now?" "No." He reaches for your wrist the moment you're close enough, gently tugging you between his knees until you're standing right in front of him. "That's why I'm staring instead. Much lower chance of embarrassing myself." He tips his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. "Also..." A sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I kinda missed you while you were over there." You glance back toward the coffee machine, barely three steps away, before looking at him again. "...It took me forty-five seconds." "Longest forty-five seconds of my life."

By the time evening settles over the city, his phone has finally stopped buzzing with birthday messages from friends, coworkers, and agencies wanting just five minutes of the Number Whatever Hero's time. It's forgotten on the coffee table now, buried beneath wrapping paper and ribbon, while the two of you sit curled together on the balcony with nowhere else to be. Denki traces absent-minded circles over the back of your hand, quieter than he'd been all day, his usual chatter replaced by the comfortable silence he only ever seemed to share with you. "Can I tell you something?" he asks eventually. "Always." He hums, squeezing your fingers once. "Birthdays used to be about seeing who remembered." His smile is small, almost shy as he glances over at you. "Now I just... keep thinking how lucky I am that every single one ends with you beside me." You don't answer right away. Instead, you lean over and kiss his temple, lingering just long enough to feel him melt against you. "Happy birthday, Denki." He lets out the happiest little laugh, wrapping both arms around you again before resting his chin on your shoulder. "Best one yet," he murmurs. "But next year?" You raise an eyebrow. "I'm requesting even more cuddles." "More?" "Mm-hm." He grins. "I'm a growing hero. I have growing emotional needs."

©nanami's bitch 2026 do not modify, repost, translate on any platform

[loreshonour]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ husband!nanami and the attractive things he does pt. 3

tags. established relationship. married life. domestic bliss. gentle love. fluff. pet names (honey). soft!nanami. no angst. ⋮ author's note. another shorter one woo!! the heatwave is genuinely taking me out so i've not been in the mood to write or do anything else at all pffft hence why this is only 500 words and not a thousand ⋮ word count. 0.5k

Husband!Nanami who time and time again places a rough, warm hand on your lower back, the heat pooling through the silky dress you're wearing, arching into him the slightest bit, whilst he presses closer to you to avoid bumping into anyone else in this unnecessarily crowded place. 

When you look up at him, if it’s to ask or say something, it’s all the same, because he always bends down a bit, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers his response. When he's done speaking, he’ll press a brief kiss to your cheek, perhaps your jaw, and then he’ll pull back, seemingly unaware of the effect he has on you.

Husband!Nanami who is pleasantly aware that he's got some centimetres on you, even if you're above the average height for women. So, without having to ask, or not even having to utter a single word about it once throughout your long-lasting marriage, he always slows down while walking. 

It's ridiculously silly, you seem to think now and then, but it’s enough to make your heart feel warm nonetheless. 

Taking a walk in the park? His fingers are entwined with yours, and his long legs seem to stop going at their fast pace so that he can keep up with you. It’s you glancing up at him that does it for Kento—cheeks flushed, pupils slightly dilated, the softest of smiles plastered on your face—and he can't help but allow his lips to tug up into a gentle smile. Oh, how nice it feels to hold the entire world in his hands.

Husband!Nanami whose tone softens when speaking to you. Usually a bit bored and calm, showcasing his practical and beyond professional demeanour, but when he turns to you—lips parting, a gentle hum, tone turning reassuring in every way possible, soothing and serene—he melts.

Husband!Nanami who comes home from a long day at work, the front door closing behind him (a little louder than usual, the lock clicking within the span of a second), and his sleek black shoes being left in the entryway whilst he makes his way to the kitchen.

He doesn't waste a second to squeeze his front against your back, hands pressing against either your love handles or soft belly, tugging you impossibly close. It’s only sooner or later that he drops his head in the crook of your neck, presses a kiss to the skin there and finally allows his shoulders to drop while an exhausted sigh escapes his lips.

Husband!Nanami who always looks back at you. It doesn't matter if it’s because he's leaving for work in the morning, before you close the front door behind him, he’ll glance back over his shoulder, his lips stretching into the tiniest of smiles. 

Sometimes his hazel eyes will soften immensely, other times he’ll mouth the words ‘see you later, honey’. But one thing he doesn't need to mouth, or say out loud, is that he loves you more than life itself, for he proves it every day.

© loreshonour — don't repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[kalatiii]

LIFE GOES ON

warnings. death mentioned, old age and tragic. grief. fem reader. pregnancy mention. infidelity mention. author’s note. dedicated to my wife lainey / @suganoms and @jiyuspassion / jiyuu, my mutuals and besties. ily FOREVA. and my irl friend, E. hope you’re having a good one up there. this one’s for you.

College Student!Nanami didn't have many friends in school. If he was being quite honest, he didn't plan on it. He wanted the simple way out—get a decent finance degree and make money and live comfortably. It wasn't ideal, but it would work. His plan was simple and didn't require any added variables.

College Student!Nanami's plan didn't include the unknown variable that was Yu Haibara, a fellow freshman in his intro to psych class. He was loud, confident (even if his answers were wrong), but caring and sweet.

He was a persistent little bugger. No matter what, Haibara always seemed to gravitate towards him. It wouldn't have bothered him had it not been for his persistence in jointing him on outings with his friends.

So he finally caved in one day and said yes.

College Student!Nanami's idea on what Haibara's friends wasn't what he expected. Satoru and Suguru, the campus's smartest students, Shoko who was in nursing, some junior named Utahime, and you. Similar to Nanami, you were forced invited to be here per Haibara.

Meanwhile, it seems everyone else either already knew each other.

Great.

But to Kento's surprise…it wasn't even that bad. Suguru and Satoru were always up to no good, peas in a pod. Utahime and Satoru always seemed to butt heads in hilarious ways while you and Shoko sat back and watched. And Haibara was always attached to him at the hip. And eventually, Kento started offering him drinks after class.

College Student!Nanami's first official outing with the friend group was to the beach. A clear, sunny day—without sunscreen. While Satoru tanned, Iori burned up under the sun. Shoko brought a beach umbrella, and you sat under it with her. Haibara and Suguru left their respective dorms already having a thick layer of sunscreen. The day consisted of chaos, sand in pockets, wet shoes and peeling skin for Iori.

This was also the day the first group picture was taken. With Satoru pouring sand on Iori's head, Shoko and you throwing up peace signs, Suguru laughing at Iori and Kento awkwardly smiling and side hugging Haibara.

And to much his own surprise, this group was kind of growing on him.

The second hang out was at the mall a semester later.

After some shopping, Shoko and Iori went to the bathroom. Suguru and Satoru didn't want to wait and dragged Yu with them to some claw machine store.

Which left you and Kento alone.

He had some one on one time with Yu, some time with Satoru and Suguru, not so much with Shoko and Iori—but never with you.

You were awkward, shy, but had a joyful and youthful spark in your eyes. So while you struggled to properly order your drink at the mini cafe in the mall, you admired and loved the chocolatey presentation of the drink all the same.

Crushing!Nanami found himself trying to text you to hang out. Alone. But he couldn't come up with good reasons why.

Wanna grab a drink? Too bro coded.

Do you want to walk around the park this evening? Too romantic.

Thankfully, you reached out first. Now Yu was arguing custody over him while Satoru teased Kento relentlessly about his sudden friendship with you.

Crushing!Nanami thought he was good at hiding his crush for a year.

Despite how studies and internships and exams kept everyone busy, Haibara still found a way to drag everyone out.

It was at a dinner during the holidays that Suguru asked Kento about you.

"Do you know if she likes anyone?" The raven haired man asked him. He discreetly pulled the blond aside, a little further aways from the group towards the end of the table. This must've been, Kento assumed, planned.

"Not particularly," Kento sighed as the other half of the group were busy debating something stupid. "Even then it's not my place to tell anyone. If she did like someone she should tell them. Why?"

"I think I want to ask her out."

Kento fumbled with his fork a bit.

"Woah, you okay?" He asked as Kento quickly regained composure. A million thoughts raced through his head.

You and Suguru? He did notice you both getting close. But…

Why did he care?

"Sorry," Kento cleared his throat and set his fork down, albeit a bit trembling. "You should go for it. Worse she can say is no."

"You think so?" Suguru flashed him a smile as a red tinge appeared on his ears. "I just wanted to ask you just in case there was already something between you guys," He picked up his drink to his lips and held it there as he watched you stick a finger into Satoru's face. "Thank you, Kento,"

After everyone wished and hugged each other goodbye amid drunken laughter, Kento went home…unsure. Suguru's confession left him with a knot in his throat and a sense of restlessness that night.

Yes, he liked you. No, he didn't know if you liked him back. And he for sure wasn't going to confess without absolute certainty that you did.

Days later, Suguru reached out to him.

SUGURU | 21:23

Update, she said no. Said she liked someone else.

KENTO | 21:24

Oh.

SUGURU | 21:26

Yeah, but it's okay. Things are good! Whoever that guy must be is lucky!

Lucky, huh?

In love!Nanami was ready to graduate. Two years had passed since that moment with Suguru. In caps and gowns, after many moments of stress and caffeine (and maybe a drink or many) along the way, Kento felt a twinge of sadness now that those moments of being with the group were finally reaching its end.

"C'mon guys," Yu said as he threw his arms around Kento and Satoru. "No matter what, I'll still find a way to get us all together,"

Satoru laughed. "You sure about that? Iori's in Kyoto, and we're all going our separate ways after this,"

Yu gave Satoru a noogie as the white heated man tried to pull from his grasp. "Don't be such a party pooper!"

After walking across the stage, diplomas in hand, it was time to say goodbye.

You gave Kento a hug and kissed his cheek once the rest fell out of the goodbye circle.

"I hope we can still stay in touch, Ken," you gave him a shy smile and an awkward pat on his shoulder. "I loved having our study sessions together and going out on walks. Please keep in touch, okay?"

He laughed as he tried to calm down the nerves that built up inside him.

Three years of feelings hidden from you and they were ready to jump out at this very moment.

"Actually," Kento clears his throat and rubs his neck. "Once we both are settled into our careers and stuff…would you be okay with going out?"

Your eyes widened and Kento gulps hard.

"I just figured we could hang out once we were all settled and no longer busy—"

"So you're not asking me on a date?" You interrupted.

Now Kento is wide eyed. "You thought I was asking you out?"

You gave a loud laugh and held your stomach as Kento looked more and more confused as each second passed. Once you finally had some composure, you wiped a tear away.

"Yu was right, you never noticed!" You suddenly looked confident as the glow of the sun set around you at the empty park. "I've liked you for a while, silly. Yes, I'll go out with you."

And that was how he accidentally scored a date with you.

And Yu was ecstatic about hearing it, plus winning 100 bucks from Satoru and Shoko.

In love!Nanami was excited after four months of not seeing you since graduation. Four months of phone calls and texts and he finally could take you out.

He made sure to do everything right—he even got a haircut. He brought you flowers, held the door open, and despite having an elaborate plan, it ended up with you and him back at your place, mugs in hand and watching a funny movie together. That first kiss in the autumnal afternoon tasted of chamomile and sugar. It wasn't full of passion, but a hesitant peck.

It was perfect.

"When are you back in town?" You asked as Kento held a hand on the door.

"Sometime December, towards the end of the month again. I want to take you out on a proper date this time,"

You snorted. "Make sure you book the reservations a month beforehand, I don't think we were ready for it to be booked this far out."

He gave a small smile. "I will, I will be better prepared next time. See you in three months?"

"Yep!" You gave him another quick peck on the cheek. "Yu should be in town by that time too! We should all hang out and catch up!"

"I can't wait, then," Kento gives you a kiss on the cheek and leaves your place feeling happier than he has in years.

Looking back, he wished he could've taken some of that happiness and kept it in a jar for when he did come back three months later, only several weeks earlier than expected.

Yu never stopped sending him messages, checking up on everyone and trying to make plans for the end of December.

Nanami had only wished that the only invite he'd receive from Yu was for a get together, not his funeral.

Standing at the hill his family chose for him as his final resting place, he bundled his hands in his pockets. Satoru and Suguru were silent. Shoko held your hand as Iori held your other hand.

Seemed like everyone had someone to comfort them.

He stared at the name on the gravestone, barely registering the words of his family members as they recalled memories of Yu.

It's would've almost been a year since he graduated. He was supposed to call Kento tomorrow. He was supposed to be it there, having fun, becoming the change in the world he wanted to be.

And the world seemed duller without the spontaneity of his friend.

A day after the funeral. He woke up, tried to go to work. Tried. He couldn't register a thing his mentor was trying to teach him.

After four hours of trying to pretend he could get through the day, he asked to go home.

And he waited. Waited for anything resembling the existence of Haibara. For the invitations to some random game board night or karaoke party to annoy him every week. And nothing came. The hangouts ceased to be created and life moved on.

And Haibara's last message of "are we still good on calling tomorrow??" sitting in his inbox unread was a silent reminder of the unknown variable of life.

Adult!Nanami feels the weight of adulthood years later. He is no longer the mentee but a mentor for many. 9-5 Monday through Friday as a stockbroker certainly did the job he wanted: make money, live comfortably.

Adult!Nanami hasn't seen nor talked to his college friends in years since Haibara died. But it didn't stop the story that made its way through the grapevine.

Satoru and Suguru fought and no longer talked. Shoko occasionally talked to them but it was rather awkward and pointless. Iori works and rarely has time for Shoko, and you tried to keep Haibara's memory alive. Tried scheduling hangouts, something that Haibara would've liked to have done.

Some wounds were just too deep to heal.

Every once in a while, he'd be hit with a memory with his best friend, and he's always caught off guard. He could be working and something a mentee could say might trigger a memory Yu where he said or did something similar.

Even in death, Yu always found a way to stick to Nanami like glue when he least wanted.

Adult!Nanami was caught off guard when he saw you on the train station. He heard you moved, but didn't know from where since Shoko didn't bother to tell him any major details.

You looked older, like life had already paid its dues. For a moment, he felt 22 again, feeling a sense of warmth at the sight of you. But now that you're both older, he wasn't sure if you'd be happy to see him. So he let it be.

And he did try to leave discreetly. He didn't want to bother you and say hi. Didn't think you would even want to talk or reach out to him. But was, again, caught off guard by how you found him.

Adult!Nanami caught up with you a little on the commute home. You had achieved all you've ever wanted and decided to move to a different part of Tokyo. You're okay, and miss your friends dearly.

“Maybe, if you're up for it," you hesitated as you both hopped off the train onto the platform, ready to go separate ways. "we could go out?"

"Go out?" Kento repeated as he stared at you and you turned red and nervous.

"Yeah! I mean I know we had a moment,” you paused and gestured towards everything. “a moment, uh, before everything happened but I don't want us to hang out and be friends again if you're not comfortable with it and—"

You rambled on and on and all Nanami could do was chuckle.

"So you're not asking me out?"

A pause. "Not unless you want me to,"

Nanami hummed. "Usually, 'going out' implies that,"

You pouted. "Are you teasing me?"

"A little," Kento smiled and nodded. "Just send a date to my number, we can make plans then,"

Nanami walked home, feeling a bit more lively than usual.

Adult!Nanami did have the confidence to reach out and make plans. And this time: he did everything right.

He got the flowers, picked you up, made the reservation, and made sure you felt comfortable the entire time. The summertime was so wonderfully peaceful and new, and it only made his love for you blossom more.

His feelings for you never left, he realized. They stayed dormant despite it all.

And it took about a couple months for him to realize that before you took the initiative and kissed him. Right there at your front door, after having ice cream and cookies. It was slow, warm, and sweet. He pulled you in close by your waist and smiled against your lips.

After a couple more dates, he asked to make it official.

Boyfriend!Nanami leaves space for you in his closet and his drawers with an extra toothbrush when you finally do stay the night.

Boyfriend!Nanami who loves that you still try to reach out to the others who sometimes don't respond back. Occasionally you get upset, but he's always waiting for you with open arms and words that comfort you and remind you that grief is still fresh for them too.

Boyfriend!Nanami who confides in you later towards your late friend's birthday that he felt alone in the wake of his death. And how he missed the Yu shaped annoyance in his life and his joy.

And frankly, you felt it too. It was Yu who annoyed you both to hang out together all those years ago.

He gives himself a smaller and smaller more vulnerable part of himself to you. He communicates what's wrong and makes sure to apologize and own up to mistakes when he realizes he's hurt you.

And you do the same. So when you finally confide in him a year after dating that you want to try to get everyone back together—

"Sweetheart, I don't know if they'd want to,"

You huff and take a sip of your tea at the small round table in the dining area of his apartment. You moved in not too long ago, boxes stacked at the door neatly with decorations you planned on adding to the plainness of Kento's large apartment.

Kento sits across from you, his own mug in hand, the morning sun filtering in the curtains. The AC hummed and you looked at your boyfriend annoyed.

"You don't know that,"

"You can try," Nanami sighed. "I'm not discouraging that. I just think that they won't take it as well,"

"Then what do you think I should do?"

"Maybe you could text them in a group message," Kento took a sip of his tea and shrugged. "See where everyone's at,"

And you did.

…

AUGUST 18

YOU | 10:24

Happy birthday Yu.

…

SATORU | 11:30

hb haibara, still owe me 50 bucks.

SUGURU | 11:45

Happy birthday Yu 💐

SHOKO | 11:46

happy heavenly birthday yu 🤍

…

IORI | 12:03

If the bet you had with Yu was over the gift you sent me forever ago Gojo I swear to god

Happy birthday, Haibara. Today we toast you. 🥂

…

Soon after, Suguru reaches out. No longer are you arranging get togethers, and he slowly reconnects with Shoko. Then Kento. Then you. Until all roads led to Satoru.

Sitting in an empty cafe three months later was…awkward. Satoru was uncharacteristically quiet. And Suguru was too shy.

Soon enough, Shoko broke the silence. "Wasn't this the cafe Yu loved?"

Suguru cleared his throat. "I…think so?"

Satoru hummed. "You think?"

"I only remembered that horrible pizza place, the one with the cheap beer—"

"—and massive slices yes!" Satoru finished and soon a smile came to everyone's faces.

"He swore it was just his intolerance to cheese," Suguru laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I told him it was gross but he kept coming," Shoko sighed, head in her hands as she gave a quick glance at you and Kento. "So you're a thing now?"

"Uh, yeah," you started.

"Damn it, that's another 50 bucks he owes me." Satoru mumbled.

"You're unbelievable," Suguru glared at him playfully.

That day you all spent time together reminiscing and catching up. Shoko's a doctor, Satoru became a professor at a university close to Kento's stockbroker company (much to his dismay) and Suguru became a bioethics consultant.

And Yu became the reason everyone came back.

And life goes on.

A meme gets sent here and there. Everyone calls each other because hanging out as a group requires time to plan, which life isn't the best at allowing. And all in all, Nanami is happy.

But lately, you haven't been.

In the now three years, you haven't ever been this mad at him. You were upset when he'd prioritize work. When he would be more practical than empathetic, he makes sure to take responsibility and win you back.

But suddenly, you grew colder. You'd occasionally lean into his touch, then pull away upset. At first it began because of a late shift.

That he understood.

The second time, when he went to a jewelry store to pick up the engagement ring he planned on proposing you to, you were furious. Why?

"You always told me when you go on lunch break and now this? You're hiding something aren't you?"

"No!" Kento sighed. He wasn't sure what to even say without spoiling the surprise. He held the phone to his ear as he tapped his desk with his pen. "I-I'm not hiding anything, love. You have my phone password, you may look through it if it helps you trust me but I am not doing anything,"

Silence. "Promise?"

"Yes," he sets the pen down and clears his throat. "Is everything alright? I don't want to sound rude, but…"

His voice trails off, but he realizes it sounds rude regardless.

"You've been irritated, lately. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells with you. Can we talk when we get home?"

You sniff. "Yeah. I'll talk to you when you get home."

He hangs up the phone, but can't help the restlessness he feels at your sudden mood swings.

Two hours later, a text from Shoko.

SHOKO | 14:19

😏

Kento was more confused than anything. What was that supposed to mean?

He got off work at 17:00 on the dot. Grabbed a bouquet of flowers on his way home. He anxiously bounced his leg the entire commute home.

Why were you like this? Should he turn to Suguru or Satoru for this? Did you do something?

When he got home, he saw the light from your shared bedroom illuminating the hallway. He takes his shoes off, his blazer and sets his stuff down, and carries his nerves and your bouquet of flowers in one hand, and the weight of the box in his pocket certainly didn't matters better.

When he opens the door, he wasn't ready to see you sitting there on the edge of the bed, looking more nervous than him.

"Love?" He said as he set the flowers next to you and kneels down in front of you. "Talk to me, what's wrong?" When you just sat there and stared at him, he continued.

"Was it…" he licked his lips and whispered. "Did you do something?"

You shook your head immediately. While he was relieved, he was left with more questions than answers.

You looked at Kento for a minute. He couldn't tell what you were feeling, but you could tell that between his furrowed brows and slightly unkempt hair that he was wrecked with anxiety.

"I'm sorry for making you worry, and I know you didn't do anything wrong," you said with a shaky edge. It immediately made Kento reach for your hands, until he felt the warm plastic in one of your hands. He looked down, and saw the plastic stick with two lines.

A positive pregnancy test.

He immediately looked at you.

"You're pregnant?"

You nodded as you broke into tears. Happy or sad ones, he didn't know. "I thought your cologne started smelling like cheese and it made me vomit."

He kneeled on the carpet staring at the plastic in his hands.

Well. That explains Shoko's message and your behavior.

The moment proved to be a great way to propose to you. Which you said yes.

Until you hurried to get up and puke after catching a whiff of his cologne again.

Life had such a way of surprising you.

From telling your friends about a double whammy announcement, needless to say everyone was ecstatic.

Months later, after convincing Nanami on a small venue wedding consisting of close friends and family, you stood before him at the altar, taking your vows in front of the people you loved most.

He held you tightly in his arms, your hand in his, admiring the glow of the day on you and your pregnancy that had so far been merciful to you, the bump only slightly noticeable despite being halfway through.

Shoko and Iori helped you get ready, with Satoru and Suguru there to help Nanami stay upright. And in the front row was an empty chair, with a picture of that fateful day at the beach almost a decade ago, next to another picture of him awkwardly hugging Kento.

The day goes perfect. The kiss, the first dance, the night goes on as did life.

"To Yu," you'd raise your glass in remembrance, and felt tears well up in your eyes as you eyed the empty chair next to Kento at the wedding party's table.

Grief is weird, but Yu still managed to keep everyone together.

And life goes on.

The Nanami household only grew. Kids, anniversaries, more marriages—in the midst of it all, you stood beside him. He still took you out to dates. Still brought you flowers. Still tried to win you over on the good days, and even more on the bad days.

Even when gray streaks started to appear in your hair, he never stopped.

Old!Nanami still woke up, even in an empty home when the kids were all out and grown up, and made you breakfast. He still made you coffee or tea. Still brushed your hair when you couldn't anymore.

He still went to sleep next to you, an arm around you and a kiss to your temple before the soft lull of sleep overtook you both.

Even after 40 years, you all got together still for Yu's birthday.

And came together when Iori Utahime said her last goodbye.

Satoru who had adopted a kid, Suguru and Shoko who married, you and Kento who just welcomed an empty nest, and Iori who finally rested in a flower bed of peonies, sunflowers and daffodils, carefully curated by you.

The unknown variable of life comes and goes. But for once, Nanami Kento is grateful for the one variable he had: time.

Time with you. His kids. His friends. With Haibara. He should be grateful, all things considered.

So when Nanami, now old and gray, stood in front of you both on the hill you now laid to rest together, he can only hope for another life where Haibara could have lived to see the lives he touched. To meet his children. To have the opportunity to have met his wife as he did, a strong and kind woman.

So when he suddenly woke up one day back at 18, at a familiar beach under burning heat, he sat up and saw a young and laughing Haibara wave him over. With a smile and soft laugh, Nanami got up, and saw you stand next to Yu at the shoreline. You laughed as Yu splashed water at you. Shoko came around and threw sand at Yu, a futile attempt at defending you. Satoru popped out with an arm of sea cucumbers and Yu jumped up in disgust.

Suddenly, you were talking to Yu and he turns to see Kento with a massive smile.

"We've been waiting for you, Kento!" He laughed, holding a pail of seashells. "Come join us, will ya?"

"Come on!" You shouted at Kento. "Join us!"

Without hesitation, he ran towards you.

ᯓ★ [ copyright © kalatiii all rights reserved always. please interact with posts with reblogs for more content. any form of copying or modifications or rewriting of my work is strictly prohibited. no translating any of my work. ]

[bee2124]

I’ve genuinely locked in harder reading fanfiction this summer than I did on my uni assignments

[nanamisbitch]

Professor Kento Nanami's eight o'clock lecture was always full.

Not because History was a mandatory credit—half the students admitted they would have taken anything to avoid statistics—but because his classes possessed a strange sort of gravity. He spoke evenly, never rushing a sentence, never raising his voice, and somehow transformed dusty political treaties and centuries-old wars into stories that held two hundred students in complete silence. Every lecture ended precisely on time. Every slide was meticulously organized. Every question received a thoughtful answer, even if the student had clearly not done the reading.

As the room slowly emptied, Nanami gathered his notes into a neat stack before glancing through the lecture hall windows overlooking the central courtyard. Across the lawn, students drifted toward the humanities building, where another lecture had apparently just ended. Even from this distance, he could recognize the familiar figure leaving the English department—shoulders slightly weighed down by a canvas tote overflowing with novels, smiling as three students walked beside you, all talking at once. You listened to each of them with the same patient attention, occasionally laughing at something one of them said.

Nanami watched for no longer than a few seconds before returning his papers to his briefcase. There was nothing particularly unusual about noticing a colleague crossing campus. Even so, he found himself checking the courtyard more often than he cared to admit.

By the time Nanami reached the faculty building, your office door was already open.

He had intended only to return the collection of essays you'd lent him the previous week—a set of comparative literature papers your students had written for a cross-department assignment—but your voice reached him before he knocked.

"...your analysis is good," you were saying gently, "but don't write what you think I want to hear. Write what you can defend. If you disagree with the critic, tell me why."

There was a pause, followed by a student's uncertain, "Even if I'm wrong?"

"I'd much rather read an honest argument than a borrowed one."

The student nodded, visibly relieved, and left with a grateful smile.

Only then did Nanami tap lightly against the doorframe.

You looked up, expression brightening almost immediately.

"Professor Nanami."

"I believe these belong to you." He held out the folder.

You accepted it with both hands, glancing down at the neatly arranged papers. "You alphabetized them."

"They were not."

"They didn't have to be."

"No," he agreed evenly. "But now they are."

For a brief moment, you simply looked at him before a quiet smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"I suppose I should stop pretending that surprises me."

Something about the remark lingered between you—not teasing exactly, but familiar in a way that had only developed after months of shared committee meetings, borrowed books, and conversations that always seemed to last a few minutes longer than either of you intended.

Neither of you seemed in any hurry to end this one, even as the hallway outside gradually filled with the sound of students changing classes.

"You've rescued me from administrative chaos," you said, setting the folder carefully on your desk. "I should repay you somehow.""Unnecessary.""I wasn't asking whether it was necessary."Nanami regarded you for a moment, his expression unchanged, though you had long since learned that his silences were rarely empty.

"I'll be getting coffee," you continued. "The café downstairs has finally started serving something that doesn't taste burnt."

"They changed suppliers."

"You blinked."...You noticed?"

"I drink enough coffee to notice."

A quiet laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"Then you can verify my review."

There was the slightest pause.

"Very well."

It wasn't enthusiasm. It wasn't reluctance either. It was simply an agreement, delivered with the same calm certainty he used when discussing historical treaties. Yet somehow, hearing it felt oddly satisfying.

Neither of you noticed the second-year literature students passing the office just then.

One slowed almost imperceptibly.

"...Did Professor Y/N just ask Professor Nanami to get coffee?"

"I think she did."

"...Did he say yes?"

The two exchanged a look before continuing down the corridor, saying nothing more.

By lunchtime, at least half the English department had somehow heard about it. Not because either professor had done anything remarkable—but because Professor Nanami, who politely declined almost every invitation outside work, had apparently accepted yours without a second thought.

The café sat on the ground floor of the humanities building, tucked into a quiet corner away from the crowded student commons. At this hour the lunch rush had thinned, leaving only the soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain against saucers. You chose the table by the window without thinking; Nanami took the seat opposite you, setting his coffee down with the same careful precision he seemed to apply to everything else.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It never had been.

You stirred your drink absentmindedly before looking up. "I had one of your students in my elective this morning."

Nanami lifted his gaze from his cup."Second year. History major. He quoted three different historians in an essay about Hamlet."

A faint crease appeared between his brows."...Why?"

"He said context was important."

"It is."

"I know," you replied, smiling. "But he spent two pages explaining the political climate of sixteenth-century Denmark before mentioning Shakespeare."

The corner of Nanami's mouth moved—so slight that anyone else might have missed it.

"I'll remind them," he said. "Literature should be allowed to speak for itself."

"And history?"

"History rarely does."

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary.

"I've always liked the way you say things."

The words had left your mouth before you could reconsider them.

Nanami's fingers paused around his coffee cup. He met your gaze, steady as ever, though something unreadable flickered across his expression.

"...I could say the same about your lectures."

It was a simple compliment, delivered without embellishment.

For reasons you couldn't quite explain, it felt unexpectedly difficult to look away.

The cultural festival arrived two weeks later, bringing with it the familiar chaos that transformed the otherwise orderly campus into something vibrant and impossibly loud. Student committees hurried across the grounds carrying banners, extension cords, half-finished props, and clipboards filled with schedules that had already changed three times. Faculty members had long accepted that, for one weekend every year, classrooms became exhibition halls and lecture theatres became performance spaces. As joint coordinators for the Humanities Pavilion, you and Nanami had spent the better part of the month exchanging emails, reviewing proposals, and sitting through planning meetings that somehow always ran over time. It was practical work, nothing more—but somewhere between color-coded schedules and budget revisions, working alongside him had become one of the quieter parts of your week that you found yourself looking forward to.

By the time evening settled over the campus, the crowds had begun to thin. Most of the exhibitions were winding down, volunteers were already stacking chairs, and discarded paper cups littered the paths between stalls. You were standing near the English department display with your sleeves rolled to your elbows, carefully packing away first editions into padded boxes before the library staff collected them. Sometime during the afternoon, you'd abandoned trying to keep your hair down; it was now twisted into a loose bun, secured rather precariously with the pen you'd been using to label inventory sheets. A few strands had escaped, softening the neatness you'd maintained all day. You didn't seem to notice. Across the pavilion, Nanami was finishing a conversation with the last group of visitors when one of his history students appeared beside him, followed by another, then three more. He answered whatever question they asked with his usual patience, only to find himself gently—but unmistakably—being steered away from the history display.

"Professor," one of them insisted, hands lightly on his sleeve before he could object, "you've been working since eight this morning. You deserve a break."

Nanami glanced in the direction they were persistently guiding him. His eyes landed on you, completely absorbed in reorganizing a box of novels, your brow faintly furrowed in concentration as you tucked another loose strand of hair behind your ear, inadvertently loosening the pen holding your bun together. He understood their intentions immediately. "This," he said evenly, making no real effort to stop walking, "is an abuse of authority by the student body." None of them looked remotely apologetic.

"You've spoken to every visiting alumnus, every sponsor, and the dean twice," another student said, still shepherding him across the pavilion with surprising confidence.

"But you've barely spoken to Professor Y/N all day."

"I have," Nanami replied.

"When?"

"This morning."

"Professor..." The student sighed with theatrical disappointment. "That was nine hours ago."

Nanami did not answer.

There wasn't much to say, because they were technically correct. The festival had kept pulling the two of you in opposite directions. Every time he'd glanced toward the English display, you'd been surrounded by students asking questions, helping with performances, or calming someone's last-minute panic. Once or twice your eyes had met across the pavilion, each of you offering the other a brief nod before returning to work.

That had been the extent of it. Now, as they all but escorted him the remaining distance, he noticed you again.

You were bent slightly over one of the tables, checking titles against an inventory list. The pen securing your hair had slipped just enough for a few more strands to escape around your face. Without the composed appearance you usually carried into lectures, you looked...tired, certainly, but there was something quietly endearing about the absent-minded way you kept trying to tuck your hair back while continuing to write.

Nanami slowed.

The students, sensing hesitation, exchanged quick glances before one of them cleared his throat.

"Professor."

"...Yes."

"If you walk away now, we're going to be very disappointed in you."

For the first time all day, Nanami let out the faintest, almost imperceptible exhale through his nose."You have an unhealthy interest in your professors' social lives."

"We're history majors."

"I fail to see the correlation."

"There isn't one."

"...I thought as much."

Despite himself, he continued walking.

You didn't notice him at first.

You were too busy trying to fit the last stack of novels into a storage crate that was clearly too small, frowning slightly as you shifted them around in hopes that changing the angle would somehow create more space.

"It won't."

Nanami's voice, calm and familiar, came from just beside you.

You looked up, momentarily startled, before your expression softened into an unmistakably warm smile.

"I was hoping optimism might change the laws of physics."

"It generally doesn't."

"So I've discovered." He stepped closer to the table, setting one hand lightly on the edge of the crate. His eyes swept over its contents only once before he reached for the largest volume near the top.

"Turn that one sideways."You did without question.

He rearranged two more books with practiced efficiency.

The lid settled shut.

You stared at it for a second.

"...Well."

"It was overpacked."

"I've been fighting with that box for ten minutes."

"I could tell."

There was no hint of smugness in his voice, only quiet observation. You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. As you did, the pen slipped another inch from your bun.Nanami noticed before you did. A few strands fell free against your cheek, and for a fleeting moment, he found himself looking not at the books or the half-packed tables around you, but at the effortless way you seemed entirely unaware of your own appearance after a full day's work.

Only when you reached up, confused by the loose hair brushing your face, did he look back at the crate.

"You seem tired," he said simply.

You smiled again—smaller this time.

"I could say the same about you."

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke. Around you, students continued folding banners and carrying boxes toward the loading dock, but the noise seemed strangely distant. A few of them glanced over as they passed, slowed almost imperceptibly, and then, satisfied that Professor Nanami had finally made it over to the English booth, quietly continued on their way. None of them interrupted. They'd accomplished what they'd set out to do.

For a while, the two of you worked in companionable silence, passing books across the table, folding tablecloths, and checking off the last items on the inventory sheet. The festival was nearly over now; the hurried energy of the afternoon had settled into something quieter, the campus bathed in the warm amber of early evening. Nanami fastened the final storage crate before straightening, his gaze drifting toward the row of student-run refreshment stalls that still glowed with strings of lights across the courtyard. One remained open, surrounded by a handful of volunteers trying to sell what was left before closing.

"I've been meaning to stop there," he said, almost as if thinking aloud. You glanced up from your clipboard. "The refreshment stalls?"

"They're operated by one of my seminar groups." His eyes returned to you, calm and steady.

"I told them I'd visit before they packed up."There was a brief pause.

"If you're finished here..." His voice remained characteristically even. "Would you join me?"

The question was simple.

No hesitation. No elaborate explanation. Just an invitation.

You blinked, caught slightly off guard—not because it was unusual for the two of you to speak outside meetings anymore, but because he'd been the one to ask.

Your eyes softened.

"I'd like that."Something in his shoulders eased so subtly it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else.

"Good."

He waited while you tucked the clipboard beneath your arm and, after a moment's fumbling, pulled the pen from your hair to rewrite a smudged note. The loose bun gave up immediately, your hair falling over your shoulders in one smooth motion. You looked faintly exasperated.

"...I suppose that was inevitable."

Nanami watched you gather your hair with one hand, the corners of his expression relaxing by the smallest degree.

"I thought it might be."You looked at him.

"...You knew the pen wasn't going to hold?"

"It appeared...optimistic."

A quiet laugh escaped you.

"I've spent all day with historians."

"And yet," he replied as the two of you began walking toward the lights of the refreshment stalls, "you still placed your faith in fiction."

The refreshment stall was tucked near the edge of the festival grounds, its handwritten sign tilting slightly after a long day of use. A few fairy lights still flickered overhead, and the student volunteers looked equal parts exhausted and determined to sell the last of their drinks before closing. One of them looked up as you and Nanami approached.

"Professor Nanami!"

The entire stall seemed to straighten at once. "You actually came."

"I said I would."

"You'd be surprised how many professors forget."

"I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."

The student smiled before noticing you standing beside him.

"Oh—Professor Y/N."You returned the greeting with an easy smile, slipping your hands into the pockets of your cardigan as you looked over the menu. "Looks like we've arrived just in time."

"Just barely," another student laughed. "We're trying to get rid of everything before we have to pack up."

Nanami studied the chalkboard for a moment.

"What would you recommend?"

The students exchanged delighted glances, immediately launching into competing suggestions."

The iced coffee."

"No, the yuzu lemonade."

"The coffee's too strong."

"That's the point."

You watched the exchange with quiet amusement, glancing sideways at Nanami. There was something unexpectedly gentle about him here, listening with complete seriousness as his students argued over beverages they'd made themselves. They weren't speaking to the intimidating history professor whose lectures left auditoriums silent; they were speaking to someone they trusted would actually consider their opinions.

It struck you then that, despite his reserved nature, he'd cultivated exactly the kind of respect most educators spent entire careers trying to earn.

"I'll have the coffee," Nanami said at last, his decision immediate enough to end the debate. One of the students looked triumphantly at the others before disappearing behind the counter.

"And for you, Professor?" another asked, turning to you.

You scanned the board for a moment. "The yuzu lemonade, I think."

"Excellent choice."

"I suspect you're only saying that because nobody else ordered it."

The student grinned sheepishly. "Maybe."

As they prepared the drinks, conversation drifted easily. They asked about the festival, complained about the endless cleanup that still awaited them, and recounted a series of increasingly unfortunate mishaps involving a broken blender and someone who had mistaken salt for sugar. Nanami listened with quiet attention, offering the occasional question that encouraged them to continue rather than simply filling the silence himself.

"You all organized this on your own?" he asked.

"Mostly. The Student Council approved the budget, but everything else was us."

He gave a small nod."Well done."

The words were simple, almost understated, but they landed with surprising weight.

The students visibly brightened. One of them scratched the back of his neck, trying—and failing—to hide his smile.

"...Thank you, Professor."

You glanced at Nanami over the rim of your paper cup.You had spent enough time around him to recognize that compliments did not come easily. When he offered one, it was deliberate, free of exaggeration or obligation.Perhaps that was why people seemed to treasure them so much.

The drinks were handed across the counter a moment later, the paper cups still cool from the ice. You reached instinctively for your wallet, but before you could unzip your bag, Nanami had already placed a few notes on the counter.

"Professor—"

"It's fine."

"You don't have to pay for mine."

"I know." You frowned slightly.

"Then let me pay you back."

He accepted his coffee from the student before answering.

"You bought coffee last week."

"That hardly makes us even."

"I wasn't keeping score."His tone was as level as ever, leaving very little room for argument.

You looked at him for a moment before giving in with a quiet, amused sigh."...You're remarkably difficult to negotiate with."

"So I've been told."The students behind the stall busied themselves with wiping down counters, though more than one of them was obviously listening.

One leaned toward another and whispered something too quietly to make out.

The second glanced briefly between the two of you before coughing into his sleeve, as though suppressing a smile.

Nanami noticed.

Without turning his head, he said calmly, "If you've finished cleaning the espresso machine, there are still tables to fold."

The student froze.

"...Yes, Professor."

The others immediately found themselves occupied with cups, cloths, and boxes.

You hid a smile behind your lemonade."I think they were trying to be subtle."

"They were unsuccessful."

"I thought so too."

For the first time that evening, Nanami took a sip of his coffee.After a brief pause, he looked down at the cup.

"...It's better than the faculty lounge."

You couldn't help laughing.

"I'll be sure to pass along your review."

"I imagine it will be well received."

He'd spent the last ten minutes pretending to browse the notice board outside the student refreshment area while you finished locking up. The handful of students lingering nearby noticed almost immediately.

"There he is."

"I told you he was waiting."

"Sir, just ask her already."

His ears reddened. "I'm not—"

"You've been standing there for ten minutes," another student cut in, laughing.

You stepped out, keys twirling around your finger. "Everything alright?"

Five pairs of eyes bounced between the two of you with shameless delight. One student pointed dramatically at him. "He won't leave."

"I have nowhere else to be," he muttered.

"Liar."

You folded your arms, unable to hide your smile. "Are they bullying you again?"

"They're..." He sighed through his nose. "Persistent."

"We're helping!"

"You are absolutely not helping."

The students dissolved into laughter.

You tilted your head. "Well? Did you need something?"

For the first time since you'd met him, he looked genuinely uncertain. His fingers adjusted the strap of the bag on his shoulder before he glanced toward the students still watching like they were front-row spectators.Then he looked back at you.

"You know..." A small, reluctant smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "They've already built an entire story out of us exchanging coffee and the occasional conversation."

The students immediately leaned in. He shook his head with quiet amusement.

"So..." he continued, voice calmer now, "perhaps we should give them something slightly more interesting to gossip about."

You raised an eyebrow.

"What did you have in mind?"

He held your gaze."Lunch."

A beat passed.

"Next week," he added, almost as if giving you an easy way to decline. "Somewhere off campus. Just the two of us."

Silence.

Then—

"I KNEW IT!"

"YOU OWE ME A HUNDRED BUCKS!"The corridor erupted into cheers.

He closed his eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I was hoping," he murmured dryly, "they'd at least wait until you answered." You laughed, unable to stop yourself.

"I think," you said, glancing at the celebrating students before meeting his eyes again, "I'd like lunch next week."

His expression softened into the warmest smile you'd seen from him.

"Good."

One student clapped dramatically.

"Finally! Can we all go home now?"

YAAYYYY i absolutely dig prof!kento and I might just do a Jjk college prof!au for purely my entertainment

©nanami's bitch 2026 do not modify, repost, translate on any platform

[nanamisbitch]

The second date ended quietly, just like the first. After dinner and a slow walk beneath the glow of streetlights, megumi fushiguro pulled up outside your apartment building and let the car idle. Neither of you seemed in much of a hurry to say goodnight. You thanked him softly, fingers absentmindedly tracing the strap of your bag, while he simply nodded, telling you he was glad you had a good time. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like the evening itself was reluctant to end. You reached for the door handle, paused, then looked back at him. He was already looking at you. His gaze softened almost imperceptibly, and before your nerves could catch up with your heart, you leaned across the center console.

Your lips brushed his in the gentlest peck, so quick it was over before either of you had time to react. When you pulled away, your face burned with embarrassment. "Goodnight," you mumbled in a rush, unable to meet his eyes for more than a second before fumbling for the door. By the time your feet hit the pavement, you were already hurrying toward the entrance, clutching your bag a little tighter than necessary. Halfway there, curiosity got the better of you. You glanced over your shoulder to find Megumi still sitting exactly where you'd left him, one hand resting against his lips, staring after you as though his mind hadn't quite caught up with what had just happened.

Only when you disappeared inside did he finally blink. His cheeks felt warm, a rare flush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a laugh and leaned back against the driver's seat, his fingers unconsciously brushing over the spot where you'd kissed him. It had lasted barely a second, yet somehow it replayed in his mind with perfect clarity.

For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the drive home felt shorter than usual.

He spent nearly all of it trying—and failing—not to smile.

based on this request!! absolutely loved writing this one, im really happy with it!

©nanami's bitch 2026 do not modify, repost, translate on any platform

[nanamisbitch]

You reached him just as another curse lunged. With trembling hands, you pulled him behind the crumbling remains of a wall, throwing up what little defense you had left to buy the two of you a few precious seconds. "Megumi," you whispered, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to steady it. His eyes fluttered open at the sound. "You're okay," he muttered, as though reassuring himself more than you. You laughed—a small, broken sound that dissolved into tears almost immediately. "Don't lie to me," you whispered. "You're bleeding." He glanced down at the crimson spreading across his uniform, then back at you. "...You're crying." It sounded almost surprised, as though the thought had never crossed his mind that someone might cry for him."I don't care," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your hands pressed desperately against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding despite knowing it wasn't enough. "Just stay awake. Please... please stay awake." Megumi watched you through heavy eyelids. You looked terrified. Not frightened of the curses still surrounding you or the possibility that neither of you would make it home. Terrified of losing him. It settled over him with a painful sort of clarity. Through all the noise, all the fear, all he could think about was how much he hated seeing you like this. Slowly, with what little strength remained, he lifted a shaking hand and rested it against yours. "I'm... trying," he murmured, his voice barely louder than the wind.

The reinforcements arrived before either of you realized they had. Someone pulled you back while others rushed to Megumi's side, voices blurring together into something distant and incomprehensible. You fought against their grip at first, reaching for him again and again until one of them assured you he was still breathing. Even then, you refused to leave. You sat beside the stretcher all the way back, your fingers wrapped tightly around his, whispering his name whenever his breathing faltered. Every time his grip weakened, yours only tightened, as though you could anchor him to the world through sheer determination alone.

Days later, when Megumi finally opened his eyes in the infirmary, the first thing he saw was you asleep beside his bed, your head resting on folded arms, exhaustion written across every feature. Tear tracks still faintly marked your cheeks. For a long moment, he simply watched you, remembering the desperation in your voice as you begged him to stay alive. He had never thought much about what his death would mean. It had always seemed like a consequence he had quietly accepted. But seeing you there—still refusing to leave even after the danger had passed—made something inside him shift. Without waking you, he reached out and gently slipped his hand into yours. This time, when your fingers instinctively curled around his, he held on just as tightly. He wasn't sure what the future would bring after Shibuya. He only knew he wanted to be alive long enough to see you smile again.

©nanami's bitch 2026 do not modify, repost, translate on any platform

[zhuuszhuu]

⛱ VAMOS A LA PLAYA!

Spending quality time together at the beach with your chaotic darlings!

Bakusquad x FEM!Reader

CW/TW: fluff :: suggestiveness :: crack :: flirty friendship with queen Mina / None .

Dividers by: @/dollywons & @/pxrce-lain

From the moment you had the idea, it was two in the morning on a friday.

A simple "beach tmrw?" Was sent in the groupchat and got immediate answers from the as insomniac as you members. First from Mina and denki who of course agreed on it, Sero who said yes because it seemed fun and Kirishima who agreed and planned to convince Katsuki into the plan.

It honestly took more time convincing him to come with you than planify the whole thing. You couldn't go without your private driver, so he, begrudgingly, agreed to come.

A quick shop tour to get everything needed ( food, parasol etc..) and you were gone to have the best summer of your life.

— 𐔌 🏝 𓈒 𓏸 🏖️ ꙳ .🍹 𐦯 —

The second you and Mina stepped foot on the sand, you both started running toward the water immediately—giggling and grinning all the way up to the sea.

Smiling happily as if you didn't almost come late to the beach because two girls ended up spending too much times shopping for bikinis.

It's not like they didn't try and make you two buy it quick and leave—they really tried, well by 'they' It's definitely not Denki, the guy was helping you choose one, like the lovely pervert he is.

Eijiro was having a hard time switching between calming Katsuki because it was getting late and deciding whether or not to drag the two of you to the car. But he couldn't, you and Mina looked just so adorable and happy, how could he bring himself to ruin the fun?

Eventually it came to an end when Katsuki threathened the four of you to hurry or he won't drive you there.

"Ugh—what a buzzkill!" Mina groaned, making her way back to the car with you following close.

"Yeah! We didn't even get to see them try it on!" Denki complained, head rolling back as Sero flirtly commented. "What a shame."

"The only shame is you two pervert gawking at them in broad fucking daylight!" Katsuki shouted, fist raised as he glared at the two culprits. "And you two stop entertaining them! There's people on that beach so chill with the swimsuits you're wearing!"

You grinned at that. "Aww is Kat jealous?" You teased, approaching his side as your grip his arm.

"No. I just want everyone to fucking keep it in their pants when we get there."

At the whole commotion, Eijiro nervously laughed—already picturing how chaotic the day will be and it hasn't even fully started.

While you and Mina were splashing yourselves in the water. The boys were close behind, putting everything down—when Eijiro looked through the basket, he grabbed bottle of sunscreen. "Can the pretty ladies come back and put their sunscreen on, please?" He shouted, loud enough to catch your attention, then reluctantly, you and Mina went there.

"I'll help them," Denki said, immediately earning a glare from Katsuki and a smirk from Sero. "What? Gotta help them spread it everywhere, hm?"

Spoiler alert, Eijiro ended up putting it on your back for you and Mina.

Katsuki was grumpy—one because he clearly didn't plan anything for the week-end except sleep, and the other was because your dumbass swimsuits were attracting every extra's attentions on you.

Everytime he would notice one being too focused on you, his palms began to crackle, sparks erupting from them as he glared at the guy.

Kirishima wasn't having fun too when that happened, he didn't even bother to retain Bakugo because honestly, he too, would have done that. And because of that, the beach practically turned into a private place because nobody dared come to your side.

After Kiri and Katsuki were done, Eijiro went to a souvenir boutique and ended up buying a hat for katsuki and himself and a flower necklace.

Then bought even more as he picked every flower/seashell bracelets, hairpins and necklaces they had. Keeping them so he could give it to you and Mina.

While that was happening, Denki was in the water with you, splashing and teasing you as you both laughed loudly. Next to you, on the shore, Mina was with Sero, both of them looking at you and denki fondly, all four completemy unaware of the chaos happening behind.

Then you and Mina started picking up seashells from the beach—mina's idea consisted of making cute accessories with it, like the fashionista she proudly is. You two ended up with two basket full of seashells.

While you two were busy doing so, the boys decided to play a match of volley-ball. Katsuki taking the game more serious than he should ended up exploding the ball so it ended with a tie.

Something Katsuki wasn't happy about at all.

It wasn't long before Sero and Denki started being touchy with you and Mina—your silence was heard and an angry bakugo was stomping toward your group with a grinning Kirishima behind. You and Denki begged to go home so you would continue your business there, and Katsuki obliged (because he mostly wanted to join).

And that's how beach day is when you have the bakusquad as lovers—though you didn't complain.

© zhuuszhuu ─ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. [Do not copy, translate, plagiarise, repost or feed my work into AI.]