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stariiesz · 1 year ago

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୨⎯𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ⎯୧

Chapter 3

Authors note: Satoru is actually becoming likeable! Also this isn’t proof read again hehe

Tw: Alcohol consumption

August 20th 2017

After a long summer of rest, fun, and heartbreak, it was finally time for the back-to-school season. And for you, it was time to start your first semester at Kyoto College. You were excited of course, it was a fresh start and a chance to meet new people. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you were still a little hurt about what happened at the festival but you were trying to get over it. That wouldn’t stop the thoughts about how Satoru was supposed to also be going to Kyoto College but had changed his mind a few months beforehand.

Now you think it’s better he doesn’t come. Running into him would most likely go a lot like it did at the festival. There was no universe in which he’d want to see you and potentially be friends. Those were all hopes of the past and you’ve learned to accept it. You would be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t a little mad at Satoru. I mean, after all, he hated you for no reason. He was rude and he made it clear he wanted nothing to do to you. You wish you had gotten the hint earlier in high school so you didn’t look like such a hopeless romantic. Now that you think about it, maybe Alina wasn’t the only one with an obvious crush on Satoru.

More importantly, you were moving out of the only home you’ve ever known for the year. You were dorming on campus with what you hoped would be a good roommate. You packed everything you needed for the time being. You took one last look at your room before heading out. You lived an hour and thirty minutes away from Kyoto University, so you wouldn’t be going home daily. More like once a week or two. It wasn’t too bad a schedule, but for you who aren’t used to being away from home for so long, it would be a little difficult.

Your parents helped you load up the car and you drove to the campus. After finally arriving on campus you had your parents help you load stuff in your dorm. The dorm was average-sized. Your roommate wasn’t coming until tomorrow so it gave you some time to adjust and have things the way you wanted them. You said goodbyes to your family and there you were. Sitting in your empty dorm room with boxes of stuff packed around you. You sighed and laid down on your bed staring straight up at the ceiling. Classes started tomorrow and you were taking the writing class you wanted to take. That was something to look forward to, right?

You explored the campus and got a feel of where you would be dedicating the next four years of your education. You got some ramen at a local ramen shop on campus and went back to your dorm where you would eat in silence. Your roommate decided to come a little earlier and came later that evening. So far you liked her.

Her name was Ayaka. She was 18 and was really interested in majoring in arts. She seemed like someone you could make friends with so that was good. She was super optimistic and she wore bright clothes and had bright room decor. She was the solar opposite of you but it was nice to have the company. You two talked for a while and you realized you weirdly had a lot in common. You botched like reading books, especially manga, you both strive to do good in school, and you both didn’t have any friends. You were just glad to have a good roommate and a nice person to talk to. So far college life was good, even though you hadn’t actually started classes.

So there you were the next day standing in front of your mirror wearing an outfit that wasn’t you at all. You just wanted to make a good impression on your first day, but you figured it would be better if you dressed like yourself. Wearing a mini skirt and a crop top was unlike you, so you changed to the usual hoodie and some sweats. Much better and much more comfortable.

“I like your outfit, Y/N,” Ayaka said from her top bunk as she dangled her legs and played with one of many charm bracelets. You gave her a smile and adjusted your ponytail. “Thanks.” You said putting the last notebook into your bag. Even though you hadn’t even known each other for 24 hours, you were becoming friends. You had a fresh start indeed.

You two went your separate ways as you had classes on opposite sides of the campus. You walked to your first class which was mathematics, a subject you didn’t like but you did decent in it. The class wasn’t too bad. You got to know your professor and some other nearby seatmates. After that, you had social science. You actually made good friends with a friend group consisting of three people. They were all super nice and again you had a bunch of shared interests. This college thing wasn’t so bad after all.

After three classes, you had a break for lunch where you sat with your new-found friends, including Ayaka. You talked about the professors you liked the ones you didn’t and the classes you wanted to take and the ones you didn’t. It was going great until Ayaka mentioned something that piqued your interest immediately.

“Yeah so, in my art class this morning there was this really pretty boy. He seemed popular already too! He had white hair and the prettiest shade of blue eyes you’ve ever seen. He was soo cool. He had these piercings and-” Ayakas voice faded into the background. White hair blue eyes, white hair blue eyes. Surly it couldn’t be him. You heard yourself that he was going to the University of Tokyo with Alina so why would he be here? What could have changed? Then again, maybe it’s not him. His hair could have been a super light blonde instead of white right? But those eyes, you couldn’t mistake those eyes.

Your mind was running wild with thoughts about the mystery man who was possibly Satoru. It was only confirmed when:

“Yeah he was so pretty, I think his name started with an S or something. Sawyer? No that’s stupid. Sa...Ugh, I can’t remember.” She was cut off by you mid-sentence.

“Satoru. His name was Satoru, right?” You asked. You had to be sure it was him. And even if it was, why was he here, why did he change schools last second? You had so many questions, but on top of all of that was the slight bit of hope that maybe things could be different this time.

“Yeah, yeah! That was his name, Satoru. Do you know him or something?” Ayaka said as she took another bite of her Mac and Cheese. Your stomach felt like it was making knots. So it really was him. Satoru Gojo was at your school after all, but why, and did that mean Alina was there?

“Yeah actually, we used to go to the same high school, long story.” You said snapping out of your daydreaming. Ayaka looked surprised at your comment.

“Really? I figured he was a model or something. You must have been lucky to have him at your school.” She said. The rest of your friend's conversation faded into the back as you pondered. Ok so it was confirmed to be him, but now what? There was a likely chance of running into him, but what would you do if you did? Ignore him, smile at him, hell maybe even try to talk to him? But would he even be interested in striking up a conversation with you? Probably not. It’s probably best for you to ignore him like he's done to you right?

After the lunch break ended you headed to class. This one you were pretty excited about because it was the writing class. You got there a bit early so you could get to know the professor. You may have seemed like a teacher's pet to others but you were excited for this professor's class. You took a seat in the middle row of seats and pulled out your supplies. As class officially started students started to flood in, you were looking to see if a certain white head of hair had entered but you hadn’t seen anything yet. Thank god. You weren’t sure if it would be a good or bad thing if he were to come into this class. But if he were to come, you’d try your best to avoid him.

The class filled up rather quickly and there was one seat left which was right by you. As you were waiting for the class to start, you had your head down lost in the fantasy of the book you were reading, you only looked up when you felt the presence of someone sitting next to you. You only looked up when they had dropped their pen and you grabbed it for them. That's when you locked eyes with those eyes. Those beautiful ocean eyes. His eyes. No other than Satoru Gojo sat beside you. You were shocked it really was him. He mumbled a quiet thanks before taking his pen back and looking up at the board. You closed your book and paid attention to the board, not that you were really paying attention though. You kept getting the occasional glance at Satoru and he did the same even going as far as to smile at you. It was like the first day of high school all over again.

Things felt different like he was being maybe even nice to you. Did you change that much over the summer that he couldn’t recognize you or something? The only thing you really changed about your appearance was getting bangs over the summer but unless Satoru’s blind, he would still know it’s you. Unless he was just being genuinely nice for some odd reason. You were so lost in your thoughts that you basically missed half the first lecture, but it didn’t really matter to you now.

After class, you were both packing up when your professor called you up.

“Since you two are the last ones here, can you do me a favor and clean the board and sweep the floors? There’s a board meeting in here next and I haven’t had the time to do it, I have to grab the snacks for everyone.” Your professor asked in a hurry. Normally it would have been an immediate yes, but again it wasn’t just you, it was Satoru too. But you couldn’t turn down your clearly stressed professor just because of a boy so you agreed and so did Satoru.

“Thank you both, I owe ya!” He said walking out of the class and closing the door behind him. An awkward silence fell over the room as you and Satoru stood there for a second before you took the broom and began to sweep. You didn’t care at this point. You just wanted this awkward interaction to be over with. Satoru took an eraser and ran it over the chalk writing on the board. There had been an awkward silence for a few minutes before Satoru finally broke it.

Satoru cleared his throat “So, how did you like his class?” He asked, eyes still preen on removing the chalk writing on the board.

You were silent for a second, still not completely sure he was talking to you. “Uh, I liked it, it was interesting.” You replied focusing on sweeping like it was the most important thing ever.

“Yeah.” He said. He stopped erasing and turned to look at you. You looked up at him and you two made eye contact for what felt like forever. His eyes focused on yours and the same with yours. You cleared your throat before looking back down and sweeping, but Satoru was still looking at you, you could feel it.

“Y/N, I want you to know I’m sorry for being such a douchebag in high school, you didn’t deserve that.” He said rebreaking the silence. Your mouth almost dropped to the floor. Satoru was apologizing to you? Now? Why was he doing it now? Was he dying and he wanted to make right before he passed or something? You stopped your brain from jumping to crazy and stupid conclusions like that and thought of a way to respond to all this.

“It’s.. ok, I guess.” That was all you said as you continued to sweep up the floor. You couldn't stop yourself from asking the next question though. “Why now are you apologizing?” You asked finally looking up from the floor again. He was looking down at you.

“Because we're in college now, there's no need to hold stupid grudges from high school, so let’s have a fresh start, yeah?” He said with a smile. The first ever genuine smile he’s given you since that day in freshman year. You were very surprised, but what he said made sense. Even though it had only been a month since you last saw him, he seemed to grow over such a short period of time. But there was another question eating at you. Where was Alina, and why did he not go to the University of Tokyo with her?

Since Satoru was being honest with you, you did the same.

“So, what happened to your girlfriend?” You asked as you set the broom down, finally being done with your small side quest. A flash of confusion crossed Satoru’s face for a moment as if he was totally unaware of having this so-called ‘girlfriend’.

“Who?” He asked as he finished wiping up the last bit of chalk on the board. Now it was your turn to be the confused one. Just a month ago, Alina had made it very clear that she was with Satoru now. It was confirmed by your own eyes when you saw them kiss in the parking lot too. So why is he now acting like he isn’t dating her? The thought that they may have broken up popped up in your mind as well.

“You know, Alina. She told me you two were together back at the festival, and I saw you guys kissing in the parking lot.” You told him as you sat and spun in the professor's chair right in front of him. Satoru giggled a bit.

“Me and Alina? No, I bet she was just pranking you, we’re not dating. And that kiss was just her trying to make some boy jealous, so I went along.” Satoru said clearing up the misunderstanding.

Maybe the kiss made sense now but you remember very vividly Alina telling you that the two of them were together. It made you a little happy to know that she tried to make you jealous but lied the whole time. And it was clear by Satoru’s tone that he saw her more as a close friend than a girlfriend. But another part of you felt a little bad for Alina. Crazy, right? But the poor girl was so desperate to keep other girls away from him that she would lie and ruin other girl’s reputations one of those being yours. Wait, maybe you don’t feel so bad after all. So they weren’t together, that was kind of a relief. You seemed to note that Satoru probably didn’t want to talk about your little confession, so you didn’t bring it up.

You two were interrupted by the professor coming back in with a tray of snacks and napkins in his hand.

“Thank you, you two. I will pay you back somehow. You can go now, I gotta set up.” He said ushering you out of his classroom. This was the last class of the day so you had nothing but time. You and Satoru awkwardly stood outside the door of the class before he spoke.

“Uh wanna head to the dorms now?” He asked rubbing his undercut. You nodded and you both headed in that direction. The dorms weren’t on the same floor due to the gender-separated dorm system, but they were in the same building. The walk there was silent, it wasn’t as awkward as it would have been before but it was quiet. You finally decide to ask him another question as you enter the building.

“So why’d you not go to the University of Tokyo with Alina?” You said as you both stood at the beginning of the stairwell which would lead to different floors. He took a long pause before speaking.

“It’s gonna seem stupid but, it’s cause my father used to go here and… I don’t know I guess I wanted to carry on his legacy and make him proud.”

Right. You had heard that Satoru’s dad had sadly passed when he was still young and it affected him greatly. He didn’t like talking about it either. So it had to mean something for him to tell you about it.

“Yeah, I thought I wanted to go to the University of Tokyo because a bunch of my friends were going there like Alina and the rest, but, I thought about it and I wanted to come here again. Alina thinks she might transfer here next year, but I don’t think she will.

That made sense now. Satoru always wanted to come here for his dad but was temporarily persuaded by his friends to join them at the University of Tokyo. You were kind of glad that he came to this school. This felt like it could be the beginning of a friendship between the two of you, or something like that.

“Oh, that’s nice I guess.” You said holding on to the straps of your bags. “Well, I’m that way.” You said pointing to your dorm level.

“And I’m that way.” He said pointing to the level of his dorm. “I guess we'll see each other another time, bye Y/N.” He said heading up to his dorm. Maybe Satoru wasn’t so bad after all. He was just misunderstood by you, and Alina didn’t help with that image. He was pretty chill, you see why people wanted to be friends with him so bad.

August 21st 2017

You were woken up bright and early by a text message on your phone. It was six am and you were staring into the bright light of your phone. What stared back at you was a notification saying that Satoru had started following you on Instagram. Your eyes widened for a brief moment as you clicked on his profile skimming through the photos. He had a very active social life, there was no doubt about that.

He had a lot of photos of himself with friends, and family, and traveling to different places. He also had a lot of photos with Alina, who was tagged in each one. You clicked on her user and checked out her page. Half of her pictures were ones with Satoru. You blocked her before hitting the ‘follow’ button on Satoru’s profile. You put your phone down and went right back to sleep.

Later that morning you woke up and started getting ready when your phone dinged again. This time it was a DM from Satoru on Instagram. You opened it and read what he had said. “I was just looking through your profile and I didn’t know you liked manga. I have a big collection myself.” He said. You smiled at that because, under his popular boy image, he was just as much as much as a nerd as you.

“Yeah, I like reading One Piece, what about you?” You texted back as you resumed getting ready.

“Same!” He said. This brought another smile to your face.

After finally getting ready, you started walking onto campus with your friends but their conversations faded to the back as you thought about things with Satoru. Things were going great so far, and it indeed seemed like the beginning of a friendship.

“Yeah, there’s a party there tonight, wanna go? Y/N?” Ayaka tapped your shoulder and you snapped out of it. “What are you pondering about?” Ayaka asked.

“Nothing, what were you asking me?” You said brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“I was asking if you want to go to a party with me tonight! It’s for the freshman and like everyone is going. Ayaka said nudging your shoulder. You had other academic things to focus on that night so you declined.

“Nah that's ok, you guys have fun though.” You said as you pulled out your phone and checked for any DM’s. Nothing new from Satoru. You wonder if he’s going to the party, but then remember it’s Satoru, of course, he would be there with girls swarming all around him.

After classes that day, you went to a coffee shop on campus and did a little reading there. You were at the climax of the book when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You took out your headphones and turned around to see Satoru with some books in his hands.

“Can I sit here?” Here said with a few strands of his snow colored hair in his face. You nodded and he sat down. You took out your headphones and closed your book.

“So are you going to that freshman party thing tonight?” Satoru asked taking a sip of his expresso.

“No, it doesn’t really interest me.” You said playing with the rim of your novel. “Are you going?” You asked as you stared at him. You were tempted to move those strands of hair out of his face as you paid attention to him.

“Yeah, I figured it would be a chance to get, hang out with my friends, and meet new people,” Satoru said. “You should come though, you never came to one of the high school ones so the least you can do is come to college ones.”

You sighed. He was right about that, but did you actually want to go to a party tonight? No, that was the last thing you wanted to do. But he and your new friend group were all going too. Sure you didn’t really like parties but, it was college, it was time to step out of your comfort zone for a bit.

You hesitated. ‘I’ll… think about it.” Satoru smiled at your words.

“Great, so I’ll take that as a yes!” Satoru said taking another sip of his drink. He gave you a lemon muffin which he had bought for you at the front of the coffee shop. Lemon was your favorite flavor, so it was cute how he got you a lemon muffin most likely not even knowing.

After you and Satoru left the cafe you went your separate ways and you dashed up your dorms staircase. You went to your dorm and asked Ayaka for help on what to wear, how to do your makeup, hair all of that. She laughed a bit

“Y/N, It’s not a dinner date, it’s a college party, you don’t have to dress up so much. Just wear a tight short dress, leave your hair down, and a little makeup.” She said laughing at your frantic state of panic.

“Why did you change your mind? I thought you didn’t want to come.” Ayaka said as she put her hair in a bun and ate her instant ramen from the cup. You sighed.

“Well I didn’t but now someone I like is going and he wanted me to come so, I’m coming.” You said looking through your wardrobe for anything somewhat cute. Unfortunately, you didn’t own any tight dresses, so the best outfit you could put together was a short top and a skirt. Ayaka did a light amount of makeup for you and did your hair as well. You looked good, and it didn’t feel like you were being a fake either.

You and Ayaka walked to the party which wasn’t too long a walk. You met up with a few other friends too. Now you were standing in front of the door, the sound of loud music playing in the room.

“Are you guys ready for our first college party?” Ayaka said excitedly as she opened the door and you all entered.

It was loud and smelled of booze, there were a lot of people and you kept bumping into people. It was pretty overwhelming. The whole time you were looking for Satoru as your friends went off to grab some drinks. You had never been drunk before and you didn’t want to start doing stuff like that now. Instead, you took a seat in the kitchen where it was more quiet and people would occasionally come in and out for the alcohol.

You sat at the kitchen table suddenly regretting coming to this god-awful place. You’d much rather be cozy at your dorm reading a book or watching a movie, but here you were trying to step out of your comfort zone and do something new for a change. You decided you should probably just head back to the dorms and let your friends have fun. Right before you were about to leave the kitchen a guy with long black hair, ear piercings, and sweats on entered. He dug around the fridge which indicated he probably lived there with some other roommates. You got up about to leave before he stopped you.

“Hey, why are you leaving so soon?” He asked not batting an eye and pouring beer into a cup. It caught you off guard. Why did he care if you left, he looked like the type of guy to have a bunch of girls waiting for him.

“Uh, it’s not really my scene.” You said with an awkward chuckle. He closed the fridge and turned around to face you. That's when you got a good look at his face and he was hot.

“Want some?” He said holding out the red cup of beer. You politely declined before he took a seat across from you. “So if it’s not your scene, why’d you come in the first place?” He said staring at you as he started sipping some of his beer. You didn’t want to tell him that it was because of a boy, so you told him the partial truth.

“Because my friends are here and I wanted to check out the party.” You said as you sat back down. “What about you? Why are you here?” You said returning his question.

“Just came for the drinks and a few friends as well.” He said gulping down the rest of his beer. A moment of science passed before you got up.

“Well, I’m gonna head out now.” You said before you felt a strong grip on your shoulder. It was his.

“Wait, I just wanted to know your name.” He said putting his red cup on the table. You told him your name and he told you his name was Suguru.

“Have a good night.” He said walking back to the pile of drinks for his next one. You left the kitchen and navigated through the noisy party. Right before you left you heard a familiar voice call your name behind you. It was Satoru’s. You turned around and there he was with a red solo cup in his hand.

“I didn’t know if you’d come.” He said a little out of breath likely from chasing after you. “Here follow me, it’s too loud in here.” He muttered taking your hand and leading you somewhere. It was to the backyard where a few other people were, mostly the stoners. You two Sat down on the sofa and he smiled. “I’m glad you came, it was starting to get boring around here.” He said as he offered you his drink. You declined.

“Oh, I keep forgetting to ask you, can I have your number Y/N? It’s easier to text than DM on Instagram, you know?” He asked you. You were a little surprised but you gave it to him nonetheless.

“Great, now we can keep in contact.” He said as he smiled at you for the thousandth time that day. But that smile made you feel like you had butterflies in your stomach every time. “Uh so I stopped by a manga store after school and I got this one for you. I saw it was one of your favorite series and the latest volume just dropped. I hope you don’t already have it.” He said in a somewhat shy tone of voice as he rubbed the back of his head. You found it sweet that he had found one of your interests and bought it for you.

“No, actually I haven’t gotten the new volume, thanks!” You said giving him a small hug as you took the book. He smelled good was the main thing you noticed when you hugged him. Hugging him felt nice, and comforting. It was awkward when you stopped hugging and sat on opposite sides of the sofa. You tucked your hair behind your ear. It was clear Satoru was a little drunk but nothing too bad.

“Y/N, your confession didn’t mean nothing to me,” Satoru said suddenly breaking the silence. Confession? Right, you had almost forgotten that you had poured your feelings out to him before graduation because you thought he wasn’t coming to Kyoto, but now he’s here and it’s awkward.

Your eyes widened. “Oh.” That was all you managed to say as you locked eyes with him. You quickly looked down feeling the heat rush to your face. “Yeah about that-” He cut you off.

“And I think I like you too.”

Authors note: each chapter keeps getting longer and longer:p

5.0k words

<-previous Next chapter coming soon!

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#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #divider by cafekitsune #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru #satoru x reader

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ayukaze · 7 days ago

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New illustration revealed for Beyblade Bar Tokyo.

The tweet mentions that the protagonists were drawn with a sporty and mature image.

They’re also wearing the t-shirts/hoodies which will be on sale at the Beyblade Bar. Standees of these illustrations will be placed at the Bar for visitors to take photos with.

This Beyblade Bar will be a permanent installation in Tokyo and will open on 9th August.

Any Beyblade fan planning to visit Japan this year can check out more details here.

#beyblade #bakuten shoot beyblade #metal fight beyblade #beyblade burst #beyblade x #takao kinomiya #tyson granger #gingka hagane #aoi valt #ekusu kurosu #jaxon cross #beyblade news #TYSON IN A BLACK AND RED FIT MY DEPRESSION IS GONE #ITS GOOONNNEEEE IM HEALED #TYSON IN BLACK AND REDDDD AAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHSJDLDK

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chromaticthresholdapex · 1 month ago

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I am afraid that I will not be accepted by the transgender community, and I need help

I am just a simple man who was born a woman. I always wanted to be one; I didn't feel good being a woman. I never understood different concepts; I was always just a man (he/him) for myself, and I didn't see anything wrong with it. But from what I've noticed, most people identify with the pronouns he/they or masculine. I never called myself "masculine"; I was always just "man," and it's like that to this day. I feel like I just can't fit in. I made the decision to transition in February 2024, and I'm sticking to it. I want to finally feel like a real man, have an "m" on my ID, a desired beard, and get rid of problematic breasts. I have been sick since childhood, especially when it comes to my period. For over two years, I haven't had it even once because of a special medicine that my gynecologist prescribed me. It's either endometriosis or the spine pressing on the uterus. Periods from my youngest years were a real nightmare, and the pain was unbearable, and strangely enough, it was near the tailbone at the back of my back, deep somewhere in the nerves, not in the bones. Fortunately, now that I'm taking this medication, I don't get my period anymore, but I'm still getting treatment and trying to find the cause of this problem.

Currently, since August, another problem has appeared that continues to this day; it is an extremely bothersome burning in the lower left back and buttock. It is constant, but sometimes it causes more trouble and sometimes less. It has not been tested yet, but in the future I intend to go to an endocrinologist. There is not a moment when I don't feel pain or burning. It ended up with me being afraid that I am persuading myself of both pains, and it all has a psychological basis. Not to mention the problems with my teeth, because unfortunately this is also my problem lately. But ignoring the issue of all the pains, for now I haven't started taking HRT yet. I have a document confirming my transgender identity from a psychologist-sexologist, and soon I will also have a separate one from a psychiatrist. I am very proud of it; it is as if I had a document that I can finally be a man. But despite this, I am still afraid that I will not fit in. I often have completely different views than transgender people. I am quite a country boy, and I feel the worst in polo shirts, black metal band T-shirts, or sweatshirts. I do not take special care of myself; I do not choose clothes in particular; usually I either dress in black and gray or just wear simple one- or two-colored hoodies. I do not wear rainbow pins, stickers, or details; I have never felt such a need. I do not even feel like a transgender person, just a man in himself. This is what I have been fighting for in my head for years.

I am really afraid that I do not fit here. I once left a certain transgender Discord server because a woman who was ten years older than me and organized pride parades started writing to me that my family were bad people, that I didn't do good in life, and that I was destroying the environment just because I came from a farming family. I openly admitted it, and I wasn't vegan. I don't like to argue, and I can't, but I also don't want to hide my interests. I don't feel that farming is bad, and I like the atmosphere of the countryside. This is where I grew up, and I will never change that. Now I feel like I have to hide it because I don't know how others will react. I'm afraid that transgender people will laugh at me for it or simply treat me worse or look down on me. I don't know what to do anymore. On the one hand, I'm trying to be a regular, simple 22-year-old guy living in Poland, and on the other hand, I want to transition peacefully. I just want a peaceful life as a man.

#ftm #trans boy #transgender #trans pride #trans people #trans community #trans rights #trans help #trans ftm #transgender man #trans guy #trans male #trans men #transmasc #help #rant post #personal rant #trans

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skeletwinsauaskbox · 6 months ago

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Behold! The twins in their current state! (Not height accurate) I thought I'd give you a guide just in case you want to draw them or have them make an appearance in your comics and fanfictions (which I'm more than happy to allow you to do as long as you credit me)! With that out of the way, here we go!

Just to let you guys know that Snowdin Adventures takes place in the past, 2014-2015. Which would mean the boys would be 29 turning 30 in the present, but DON'T THINK ABOUT THAT. They're 19 (turning 20 in August 2015) right now, okay??? (Also, their aging process freezes at 21 so...) Basically, Sans' iconic hoodie and Papyrus' battle body? They don't have those yet.

For reference, in this series, Frisk falls on 15th September, 2015 as a nod to the game's release. As of chapter 16 (the chapter I'm currently writing), it's January 2015 in the story.

They change outfits every chapter, and these are only just one of their outfits. The only things that remain consistent are:

Sans will always have his arms covered. Hoodies, jumpers/sweaters, and long sleeved tops are fair game.

Sans doesn't like wearing shoes with laces. On the rare occasion he does, they're always untied because every time he tries, he gets his phalanges stuck in them. Papyrus doesn't have the same issue due to his gloves.

Papyrus will always wear his scarf and gloves. He wears his scarf for comfort and his gloves because... well... reasons.

Papyrus also prefers to leave his arms and legs uncovered, but is okay with wearing long trousers/pants and sleeves sometimes, as long as they're not tight.

Other than that, if you want to make fanart of them, feel free to give them any outfit you want!

Now onto their personalities and behaviour!

If you want to write them, then you can use Sans and Papyrus' profiles as a reference for their skills and personalities. Here are some extra little tidbits just in case.

The twins are both autistic. I might make a separate post explaining their autistic traits and how they play a role in the story, but it's not the main focus and they're both unaware that they're autistic. If someone talked to them about potentially being autistic, Sans would play it off with jokes while Papyrus would genuinely consider the possibility, but then forget about it once the conversation ends.

I think compared to most of the multiverse, these two are rather young. So they still have a childlike wonder to them. It's not unusual when it comes to Papyrus, but for Sans, it's apparent. That doesn't necessarily make them naive or stupid, but they are fairly "innocent" in some ways. They are still adults, however, and act like adults for the most part. They're just very goofy. Please don't infantilise them.

Neither of them really acts like "the older brother" or "the younger brother". They're just... brothers! Though sometimes they tease each other about the 4 minute age gap, it's all in good fun.

They're twins, so sometimes they like to play up the twin stereotypes for a joke, but otherwise don't go by them. Honestly, they just act like normal brothers.

They're very close, not just because they're twins and therefore been together since birth, but also because they're trauma-bonded. They don't like to talk about their past. Sans keeps his issues to himself while Papyrus legitimately forgets about his trauma. Though that doesn't mean it doesn't affect them.

And finally, I've been talking with @mimimuta (creator of the Outbound AU), and they came up with nicknames for the twins. You might have seen them around, but I'm making it official now!

Sans' nickname is Lento.

Papyrus' nickname is Presto.

Feel free to use these nicknames if you want the boys to interact with your AUs.

They are music-based nicknames which allude to their ability to trigger musical numbers, which is an ability I haven't seen any other Skelebro pairs possessing. The twins REALLY love their music, and Presto in particular is really into musical theatre.

Lento is Italian for "slowly", particularly in a musical sense, as in "played slowly". Considering Sans' even-tempered personality, I think it suits him well.

Presto means "quickly, with a quick tempo," especially on a piano. It definitely matches Papyrus' fast-paced, energetic nature, I must say! It's brilliant for him!

Anyway, I originally meant for this to be a post showing off my drawing, but I guess it just turned into something else. Overall, I think the best advice if you want to portray them is read my story. That's only if you want to, though. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, but it helps! You can also refer to the answers on this blog too!

Take care, you guys!

#ooc #ali anne #skeletwins #skeletwins au #undertale #undertale au #undertale ask blog #sans #papyrus #lento and presto

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mangionebabymama · 3 months ago

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I read yesterday an article (i dont remember the page, srry) that said smt about luigi living in san francisco before moving to hawaii, i also saw on reddit some people say the same, or theorize that he was living in nyc with pg, but i remember seeing a google review from luigi to a place that was something like dorm-style condos in philly, close to Upenn.

I saw the review in late dec, and it said it was from 2 years ago, but in late january it had changed to 3 years ago, so i believe he left the review right after moving to hawaii. He must have been living in philly in an affordable room during the pandemic, maybe.?.

I remember i had the location highlited the last time i checked, but now it disappeared from my phone, maybe google removed L's review?

That's interesting to know, because I know there’s been speculation about whether or not he was in San Francisco sometime between August and November, when nobody had heard from him. Since TrueCar, the company he worked for remotely, had an office in San Francisco, some people believe he might’ve been there during that time. Then, in November, that's when his mom filed a missing person’s report with the SFPD, as she was familiar with the office location there.

He used to live at an off-campus student apartment community called Hamilton Court while attending UPenn. Those camera roll photos of him with his friend group (where he’s wearing the Adidas hoodie and making silly faces) are actually from a celebration event held at that complex. However, I don’t know exactly when he moved in or when he moved out. It was probably around the time the pandemic lockdown began and universities transitioned to virtual and synchronous online learning.

I'm not entirely sure of his living situation timeline during the height of the pandemic, but it seems like sometime around 2021 or 2022, he began living in Hawaii. That said, he returned to the mainland in 2022 to attend the commencement and graduation ceremonies at UPenn, as none had been held in 2020. I wonder if he stayed in Philly for a short time then, especially since his sister got married that same summer, so he was at least close to Maryland.

I’ve seen his Google reviews before. Besides that place in Philly, he even left one for an Airbnb-style place in Puerto Rico in 2021, where he apparently stayed for a month while working remotely. But I don’t know how to find that review again. I’ll have to dig a bit more.

#mangionebabymama asks

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writingsbychlo · 2 years ago

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okay but the world needs a how would the 🐍 boys react to a taylor swift concert (and if you categorized them by album i would also not be mad)

😘💋

for you, my love? anything 😌

slytherin boys + taylor swift concert/albums

draco: draco is impartial. it’s not his typical music taste but he will hum to songs when you play them, he knows you like them. he hires someone to make sure he gets really good tickets and says you can take anyone when he surprises you with them. when you say you want to take him, he fucking loves it. he doesn’t show it, but knowing you’d share something so special with him, it makes him so happy. would wear a basic fit, lets be real. would pay someone to custom make your outfit for your favourite album, though. also, he bought tickets to a tour spot of a place you’ve always wanted to visit and he makes it a whole vacation. splashes cash for extra packages. rich boy vibes. he’d never admit it to anyone but he has listened to All Too Well (10 min version) when he’s in his emo moments.

he’s giving Red, though, and would make the effort to sing along to any songs he knows enough of just to see you smile. like tell me he isn’t giving the youthful innocence of 22 but also I Knew You Were Trouble, like???

mattheo: has an alarm set for tickets and tries to get them so eagerly with you. again, not his usual music taste, but his has been known to scream-sing Shake It Off when drunk. would wear a toned down outfit to match whatever you’re wearing and would absolutely wear any bracelets you make him. holds all your belongings so you don’t have to worry about anything. holds your hand the whole time and sings with you. you’d stay in a fancy hotel overnight the day before and after, he wanted to make it special. buys matching tour hoodies with you.

he’s giving Fearless, like lets be real, The Way I Loved You was written for him. he isn’t ashamed to admit he loves that album, though. that dedication of slightly toxic but mostly just obsessed love, sweet and adorable first love feelings, y’know?

theo: asked if you’d seen there was a tour coming up and chuckled at your excitement when you screamed yes. gets tickets when you don’t manage to and makes a joke like ‘how many boyfriend points did this just earn me?’ spoiler: it’s a lot. wears all your bracelets that you make on one arm and helps you make trades with people. researches the set list to make sure he knows all the lyrics to any possible songs that might play so he can sing with you, but already knows quite a lot. not ashamed to listen to her if he’s with you or missing you. buys you any merch you want, has so many bags to be taken home.

his album is Folklore, just because I think the hazy indie suit him. august is friends-to-lovers with him after spending the summer with his family in italy. change my mind, you can’t.

enzo: baby boy goes all out for this. he’s so lover coded, but he knows all the albums very well. listens to her music with or without you and is proud of it. you sat together to book tickets and try to double your chances and it worked. not only wears and trades bracelets but makes them with you, makes his own set to swap with people too. looks for celebrities and gets to excited when he spots them. he’s the kinda guy to propose during Love Story. matching outfits, matching merch. you guys both have lost your voices the next day and he can’t stop grinning about it. is convinced taylor made eye contact with him. would wear a custom outfit with you, too.

his album is Lover. no doubt. he’s a cutie pie and he’s so pastel-sunshine-sparkles-love. Paper Rings? he belts that. You Need To Calm Down? he bodies it with so much sass just to see you giggle. London Boy? I don’t even need to say.

tom: hears you didn’t get tickets and starts pulling strings to get them for you because you were sad. tries to be casual and just leave them on your desk one day, but can’t help his smile when you burst into his dorm at 11pm and kiss him stupid for it. is willing to let you pick his outfit as long as you make it ‘normal’. you guys match but in a subtle way. like mattheo, books a hotel for before and after, and also will hold your things. doesn’t sing along but he’s not a buzzkill, y’know? stands with his arms wrapped around your waist the whole time, sways slightly to the music for you. he will spin you occasionally. so defensive when you’re looking at merch, growls at someone to fuck off while they still have teeth for telling you to hurry up and pick. gets a hoodie when you tell him it would look good on him and actually wears it for you. also buys the special packages like sound checks etc.

Reputation. you’re gonna look me in my eyes and tell me Look What You Made Me Do isn’t his anthem? if he had a gun to his head he would name that as his favourite song.

bonus for you bc we’re talking abt him right now: all I’m gonna say is reggie + enchanted. that’s it, that’s all.

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott/reader #theodore nott x reader #draco malfoy/reader #draco malfoy x reader #tom riddle/reader #tom riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #lorenzo berkshire/reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader

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prettyoddfever · 1 year ago

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This off-white t-shirt that was for sale at some shows during the 2008 Honda Civic Tour was really popular and was usually the one you'd see people asking other fans to grab for them in late spring because their show sold out in their size. This is the shirt that was sewn into a vest for Ryan that season btw:

FBR added this shirt to their webstore in August 2008 and some sizes sold out quickly but then got restocked. I remember some people complaining that FBR's shirt was a slightly different color than the one on tour, but others said it was the same. Idk, it looked like the same general off-white color to me. The band's name was still on the back of the right sleeve:

I liked this design because it was SO different from most t-shirt designs in this era (like in general, not just PATD) and was way more minimalist. A fan created some pngs that we could print out to iron on our own shirts, so I'll add them here if anyone wants them. They used the "Big Noodle Tilting" font and created their own heart:

That fall Hot Topic also came out with an off-white tote that had the same large "reinvent love" design on one side. Then the design of the band name (from the t-shirt's sleeve) got a heart added and was enlarged to be the graphic on the other side of the tote. The inside of the bag was a floral pattern that reminded me of the striped hoodie's lining:

FBR clearly loved how successful this whole design was. The webstore included a bonus sticker in the order packages for P!ATD fans in fall 2008:

The Rock Band Live Tour shows in fall 2008 used the same type of graphic:

And the shows on that tour had a black tote & shirt for sale:

Spencer did an interview with Out.com this season that had this question:

The most popular items at your merch booth seem to be a t-shirt and bag that say “Reinvent Love,” which is such a strong, inclusive message. Tell me about how that became the band slogan. It started out as a lyric in “Mad as Rabbits.” It was the last song we were recording for the album, and as we figured out how to fit it into the end of the song, it took on some more anthem-style cheer. As we went on tour, me and Ryan [Ross, Panic’s guitarist] talked about making a “Reinvent Love” shirt. At first it was just going to be on the Fueled By Ramen web store, just a limited edition thing because it didn’t have our band name on the front, and we didn’t know how many people would want to wear that. It ended up being a lot more popular than we thought it would. We were ending all of the concerts with that song, so that was the last thing that people were hearing. We wouldn’t want to be a part of anything that wasn’t that kind of that message. If there’s going to be some saying associated with our band, that’s a pretty good one. It goes along with everything we want to represent and the way that we feel.

This bracelet was added to FBR's webstore in December 2008 (after the Pretty. Odd. era had basically ended & around the time that Live in Chicago was released):

By the time this necklace got added to FBR's webstore in January 2009, a lot of fans were tired of this theme:

The necklace spawned more fan jokes about what was coming next at that point... my favorite was still the musical toaster:

So in March 2009 FBR just added the black shirt & tote to their webstore (the ones that were sold at shows in fall 2008) and then let the phrase rest so they could soon move onto overusing the return of the exclamation mark. lol jk.

#merch #rbl2

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toasttt11 · 9 months ago

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playoff bubble

July 28, 2020

Hayden had been quarantining for the past week alone in her hotel room in Vancouver. She would play her first playoff game in two days and today she was allowed to meet with her team for an off the ice practice and then an on the ice practice.

It was pretty boring being alone for a week but she spent plenty of her time facetiming all of her friends and family especially Quinn as he is quarantining too.

She threw on a pair of athletic shorts, a hoodie that she stole from Quinn and a pair of orange converse and decided her messy french braid was enough.

She grabbed her phone and headed out of her hotel room and down to the conference room she was gonna meet her team for the first time in months.

She walked into the conference room and smiled softly seeing Connor and Leon. She knew they were allowed to be close to each other today as they are all quarantined in the same bubble so she walked right over to Leon and Connor.

Leon and Connor looked over hearing someone walking to them and they both paused seeing Hayden. She was tanner and was glowing, she looked happy and healthy but also her eyes, they were bright and blue not dim and barely blue.

Hayden flashed a smile at the two and Leon and Connor both released a sigh of relief seeing her truly happy, Connor pulled Hayden into a tight hug closing his eyes as he has not seen so much life in her eyes since he saw pictures of her when she was younger.

Of course Hayden talked to Lauren, Connor, Leon and Celeste through out the time she was back home in Michigan and they knew she was doing better as she laughed more on the phone calls but to see her in person and to see how happy she looks it was amazing.

Connor and Leon both knew Celeste and Lauren will be so happy to hear how happy Hayden is and they both know how much they miss her like crazy.

“Hey rookie.” Connor fondly smiled as they pulled away and he clasped his hand on her shoulder like he always does.

“Technically am i still a rookie?” Hayden cheekily asked being completely herself for the first time since she met than and the two couldn’t help but adore her even more.

“You’ll always be our rookie Mäuschen.” Leon told her with a soft smile, a smile not many can get from him.

Hayden fondly rolled her eyes but smiled as she had missed both of them, she stepped closer to Leon and looked at him slightly hesitant as she has never hugged him off the ice before.

Leon smiled gently and pulled her into a firm but gentle hug and Hayden easily hugged him back.

Connor smiled softly remembering how Leon grumbled when he found out Connor got a hug from Hayden before he could.

Hayden pulled back from the hug and started talking with Connor and Leon.

Kailer Yamamoto and Ryan Nugent-Hopkins walked over and Ryan gently ruffled Hayden’s hair as he walked up behind her, “Hey Blake.” Ryan flashed a smile at his younger teammate.

Kailer and Ryan both knew Hayden wasn’t in a good place when she came to Edmonton and was very closed off so they kindly backed off from her but still was always kind to her.

“Hi Nuge, Hi Yamo.” Hayden kindly greeted her teammates smiling at them. She knew it was weird for her teammates to have a girl on their team for the first time and someone who is a lot younger than any one else and she wasn’t the most open to anyone when she arrived so she was grateful they treated her so kindly despite all of that.

Kailer and Ryan shared a surprised look at how easily Hayden smiled at them and both of them noticed how happy she looked in general, They were glad that Hayden seemed to have done well over the quarantine and it seemed like they are going to get know Hayden better now.

August 1, 2020

Hayden finished tying her orange high top converses as she finished getting ready for her first game. She was wearing a pair of black dress pants and a simple white and back stripped sweater.

Hayden paused as her phone rung and she looked down at the screen seeing Lauren facetiming her, “Hi Laur.” Hayden greeted as she set her phone up on the desk in the hotel room as she brushed out her hair.

“Hayden darling!” Lauren beamed as she spoke to Hayden, “I have a surprise for you!” Lauren told her a bit sad she couldn’t be there in person for the playoffs for Connor and Hayden but especially for Hayden’s first playoffs.

Hayden hummed looking curious as Lauren stood up and showed Hayden the jacket she was wearing. It was the WAG jackets the team got this year but on Lauren’s arm there was a patch with Hayden’s name and number.

“You-“ Hayden spluttered out completely speechless. Her eyes filled with tears and for once they weren’t sad tears but happy tears.

Lauren became alarmed when she noticed the gears, “I’m sorry did i overstep, i can take it off.” Lauren quickly spoke.

“Lauren.” Hayden spoke up shaking her head to stop Lauren from apologizing anymore, “Thank you.” Hayden told her extremely sincerely.

Lauren’s eyes widen in shock and she still looked worried she overstepped.

“It’s been a long time since anyone had worn my name.” Hayden softly told Lauren. Ellen and Jim haven’t worn a jersey in a few years as they have only been at games where she has played against one of the boys and they don’t want to pick favorites. Quinn, Luke and Jack don’t ever really wear her jersey like she doesn’t wear theirs. The last time someone wore her name were her parents.

“Thank you so much.” Hayden smiled tearfully, the patch meant more to Hayden than she could ever express.

Lauren’s face softened realizing she didn’t over steppe and Hayden just looked happy, “Of course. Anytime.” Lauren firmly reassured and she knew she was always going to wear Hayden’s name and number on her WAG jackets now and knew Celeste definitely would too.

Hayden thanked Lauren again before they did their goodbyes and Hayden put her headphones in and called her brothers.

Jack, Luke, Quinn and Hayden had all made a new rule that before any one of their games they had to FaceTime their group chat so they could talk to each other more.

Hayden smiled as Jack answered and Luke was sitting next to him and Luke was wearing her Oilers hoodie and Jack was in her old US Hockey shirt. Quinn joined the call from his hotel room wearing an Oiler’s hat for Hayden.

Hayden beamed at her brothers as they all were wearing something for her and smiled contently as she talked to all of them as she walked to the bus.

Hayden was going to play her first playoff game and she felt happy for that and didn’t feel sad because her parents would miss it.

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doiefy · 1 year ago

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dive // kim doyoung // preview

In the six or seven years that you’d considered Doyoung as more than just a friend, definitively describing your relationship with him had always been difficult. You were ‘lovers,’ essentially, but that sounded much too dreamy for either of your tastes; ‘significant others,’ perhaps, an all-encompassing and rather conservative term, but too harsh on the ears. ‘Girlfriend and boyfriend’ didn’t seem quite right to you, considering how private you’d kept it since the very beginning.

An entertainment agency with no fear of bankruptcy, scraping together a co-ed act despite its inherent unpopularity—the both of you involved—had made things awfully complicated.

pairing: kim doyoung x f. reader (she/her pronouns) tags: non-canon idolverse (NCT and other groups don’t necessarily exist in this, I just took a lot of inspiration from the Korean pop industry. it feels like realistic fiction but also not really), somewhat slow burn, slice of life at times, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, it’s also at least 10% crack word count: 6.8k preview, 40k+ full fic (fuck off, I’m not sorry) cw: preview includes mild language, alcohol. full fic includes smoking/vaping and drugs as poor coping mechanisms, anxiety and one instance of a panic attack, suggestive content

taglist available; reply or message me! I anticipate this will be out by end of August, I only have three more chapters to write!

additional notes: - kard is the blueprint!!! they induce so much bisexual panic in me and I love them so much, it’s probably pretty clear that I took inspiration from them and their artistry for this fic hehe. - I have a lot of thoughts on this realistic fiction genre I’m dabbling in but will hold off on sharing them here… just know that it’s written to feel realistic but god knows what actually happens behind the scenes in K-pop; none of this is meant to be speculative or mean, I’m just having a bit of fun. if you’re someone who actually gets deep into the industry drama and how the industry works, don’t get hung up on the details. please.

prologue: in the blur of the rain

For once, you were thankful for the rain.

It was a momentary relief from the heat of Seoul summers: a gust of coldness to push aside the heavy haze of pollution, and a steady stream of water to wash away the smell of cigarette smoke always lingering around your building. Sprawled out on a lawn chair with your legs stretched out, you watched mindlessly as the rainwater spilled into and accumulated in the balcony above yours. The rhythm of the water hitting the concrete was mesmerizing. Woosh, splat. Like glass, the drops shattered into a fine mist that sprayed your bare feet. Woosh, splat. Next to you, Doyoung mumbled something about the weather. Splat, splat.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked. He’d joined you shortly after you stepped outside, disappointed by the gloominess of the low-hanging clouds, but content to sit with you nonetheless. Pleasantries, a couple of laughs over the beers he’d brought over from your fridge, then you’d sat in silence. Until the wind picked up a great deal and begged the inevitable question.

You glanced over at him, quickly understanding what he really meant. Huddled in a hoodie with his hair damp from the shower and the circular lenses of his glasses starting to fog up, he was cold. A man of surprising patience and sympathy who was always willing to stay as long as you did, but you supposed his will was wearing thin in the rain.

“Not really,” you shrugged. “You?”

“A little,” came a rather impassive response through a stifled yawn. He stretched his arms above his head lazily, then curled back into himself. “Mostly just tired. The alcohol’s making me sleepy.”

You snorted, unimpressed. “Mina’s gonna be real unhappy when she finds her stuff missing from the fridge.”

Doyoung grunted. “She owes me money.”

“For what, drinks from McDonald’s? Don’t we all?” you joked, patting his arm in mock reassurance. “You can go inside if you want. I’ll probably stay awhile.”

“Mm, I’ll manage.”

It fell silent again. There was some hidden reminder in both his words and the rain: a constant backdrop, constant background noise that was bound to be brought up explicitly soon, as much as you wanted it to stay buried. It had been like this for a couple weeks, ever since Doyoung sat down with management and made the decision. You were all aware of his choice, certainly not thrilled by it in the slightest, but dutifully observing a countdown—only five days, presently. There would be another, after the first hit zero, but you’d already decided that you wouldn’t count the days until his return.

There were plenty of crying, heartbroken fans of his who would gladly do it for you, anyway.

As you reached into the pocket of your jacket for something, you suddenly felt a judgemental gaze following you. Doyoung watched with incredulous amusement as you pulled the vape pen from its hiding spot to take a long drag. It was a bad habit that your manager hated and Doyoung liked to make fun of, but neither of them made efforts to stop you. There were worse things you could’ve been doing.

“Oh, I see,” Doyoung laughed, reaching over to absentmindedly massage your shoulder, where he knew you always tensed up. Had the two of you been in public, that was one of the worse things you could’ve been doing: giving the people any reason to doubt the nature of your relationship. “Should’ve guessed this was why you came out here.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, then showed him the pen: newly-ordered with your last pay cheque, pale pink and sparkly. “Wanted to take the new girlie for a spin.”

Ever curious, or maybe just looking for another excuse to ridicule you, Doyoung plucked it from your hand and took a hit. “Gross,” was the final verdict along with an exaggerated face of disgust, as he handed it back to you. “I don’t know why you and Johnny do this shit willingly.”

You shrugged. “Stress.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

Doyoung stared at you like it was obvious, yet not impatiently—one of the many things you liked about him, especially when the industry had a mean little habit of making you feel dumb and oblivious. “What’s stressing you out?”

There it was, the onset of the conversation you’d been waiting to have. “You. What else?”

He raised a brow, grinning sarcastically. “You don’t think I can survive two years in the military and fulfill a responsibility that’s to be fulfilled by every good and able-bodied Korean son in the country?”

“Please. You can barely learn an entire choreography without bitching about back pain at least once.” You rolled your eyes and brought the vape back up to your lips.

“What about the good son part?”

You’d met his parents before: hard-working, upper-middle class folks from the suburbs who had undoubtedly wanted their kids to pursue law or medicine for sake of job security, only to get an actor and singer instead. Cackling at the promise of getting a rise out of him, you met his gaze with glee. “I think it’s really sweet that you buy your mama designer stuff all the time. But she probably wanted that money from a well-respected lawyer, not a K-pop idol who clowns around on national television for a living.”

Doyoung glared and flipped you off, but it was all in good fun. “Right back at you.” Then in a disbelieving murmur from behind his drink, “I’d be a pretty fucking hot lawyer though.”

You sighed in agreement, the notion making you feel more dreamy than you would care to admit—but for good reason other than the fact that he would make a very hot lawyer. “Oh, how life would be so much easier.”

“We probably think that because this is the only life we’ve ever known,” Doyoung smiled softly as a certain sense of contemplation settled over the balcony. You both knew it was true, and would eventually settle for some semblance of normalcy when given the opportunity. You could hardly despise your jobs, nor could you fully embrace it. Like any other employment, it was just that. Only yours seemed to define you as a person much more than any other 9 to 6 in the city would a typical person.

“Will you be okay?” he asked a little later, watching you blow lazy smoke rings. The concern was more genuine than usual, prodding at emotions you’d kept bottled up for the better half of the week. “It’s… Sunday.” You knew he was counting down the days too. “I’m going on Friday.”

“I don’t know if it’s quite registered yet. It’ll probably hit harder once you’re gone,” you said. “But I mean, two years isn’t the worst. We’re used to it.”

“We’re used to not being with each other. We’re not used to being without each other completely.”

Ah. Another conversation to be had, when he came back. Now just a bit more dejected by the mere mention, you joked, “There’s a difference?”

“There’s a difference.”

You knew the difference, of course. You could explain it in great detail if you wanted to, covering the years of history behind it and the gruelling effort you’d put into keeping a story alive. But it was a story that never made it further than Doyoung and yourself, echoing just slightly to reach Mina and Johnny in muted detail as well.

In the six or seven years that you’d considered yourselves as more than just friends, definitively describing your relationship had always been difficult. You were ‘lovers,’ essentially, but that sounded much too dreamy for either of your tastes; ‘significant other,’ perhaps, an all-encompassing and rather conservative term, but too harsh on the ears. ‘Girlfriend and boyfriend’ didn’t seem quite right to you, considering how private you’d kept it since the very beginning.

An entertainment agency with no fear of bankruptcy, scraping together a co-ed act despite its inherent unpopularity—the both of you involved—had made things awfully complicated.

But in all the ten or eleven years that you’d known each other just as people, you’d never been apart for so long. You’d never been without him as just a friend. Even the occasional modelling or acting gig on his end took no more than a few months, while your solo work only peppered your usual schedules with overnights at the studio. The fact that he was enlisting alone was possibly the saddest part, with you and Mina obviously exempted, and Johnny too by his American citizenship. From seeing him almost every day to only once or twice a year… it would be hard on you all, but on you in particular.

Sensing your low spirits, Doyoung still found it in himself to joke, “You’re gonna hate my hair.”

You groaned, refusing to imagine him with the dreaded buzz cut and green beret. “Fuck, don’t remind me. I’m not searching you up on Naver for the next two years.”

“You search me up on Naver?”

“Shut up.”

But he was unwilling to let it go that easily. “Aww, that’s cute. You know what? Between me and you…” Scooting closer with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes but hardly a waver in his voice, he whispered, “I search myself up too.”

“You’re so annoying,” you scoffed, blowing smoke in his face.

“You love that about me,” he grinned, then leaned in to kiss you.

For years, you’d always jolted away when he did it—purely out of paranoia, always worried that someone was watching. But Doyoung was unbelievably meticulous: restricting himself to the dorms, his car, and occasionally his family’s empty vacation home. Never in the company building. Never anywhere else. It wasn’t often either; for the most part, you abstained from any romantic gestures, lest you got used to it and went too far in public without even knowing it.

It became muscle memory after that, for you to startle away and for him to coax you back to him, for you to trust his judgement of your surroundings and safety. In the spur of the moment this time, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you gently into his lap. You knew he already missed you from the abruptness of his affection to the way he kissed you breathless. And while you thought about how he would be stolen away from you for the second time and reminisced all the times you had to hold back from going all the way, you were infinitely grateful for the stormy skies.

Because in the blur of the rain, the world was none the wiser to who you were, or who you were to each other.

i. never grow up

You met Kim Doyoung on your first day at the company, in a dingy storage closet.

You were eighteen at the time—fresh out of high school and your old entertainment company, where you had few prospects apart from amassing crippling debt and cameos on rigged survival shows. You couldn’t quite despise the shitty management though, or the hellish programs they offered. Because at the very least, they’d help you stick your foot in the door. Finding your next destination was hardly difficult, especially when a family friend of yours distributed the company’s business cards as a side hustle.

Taeyong responded almost instantly when you asked him for help, then sent you a blurry picture of a pink card drenched in someone’s beer. Vitamin Entertainment. A quick Naver search brought up a number of decently-successful acts, mostly soloists and actors. And a recently-disbanded idol group, which was most reassuring.

“Don’t I need to audition?” you asked meekly when he called to make sure you’d gotten his message.

He was tipsy at a party, slurring and tripping over his words. “Nooooo, sweetheart. You’re hot and experienced, don’t waste your time. Either email them a link to your old YouTube channel, or I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it,” you grumbled. “Speak nothing of the YouTube channel or I’ll kidnap your dog.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” Taeyong chirped, obnoxiously sing-song as always. “Well then, my dear, the bubbles are bubbling and the wine is flowing! Love ya, see you later, make sure to send that email, okay byeeeeeeee—”

The line went dead, and you reluctantly powered on your laptop to do as he’d told you.

Imagine your surprise when someone got back to you two weeks later and asked you to come in. Either Taeyong had put in a word for you and your tape was impeccable (you knew it wasn’t, you’d filmed it at 2 AM), or they were desperate.

Your expectations plummeted when Google Maps took you to a rose-tinted glass building in the scrappiest part of the neighbourhood. And they hit rock bottom when you found yourself in a lobby modelled tactlessly after a container of children’s gummy vitamins.

The floors were a checkerboard pattern of blue and aquamarine tiles, while the uneven plaster walls were painted salmon pink. The furniture strewn about the foyer were made from cheap, hard plastic, resembling sheets of gelatin and brightly-coloured candy. Caricature drawings of Vitamin artists and CEOs stared at you from their glass frames while a manager took you on a tour. Your first response within twenty minutes of arrival was to check that your contact lenses hadn’t fallen out of your eyes; there was something very vague and blurry about the place, which seemed to bleed into the atmosphere and all the people you passed by.

“New here?” a few of them would ask you in passing, be it other trainees or instructors, and you always responded with a polite nod. They’d shrug nonchalantly and welcome you with a simple, “Cool,” before moving on. You didn’t doubt that they were busy, yet they seemed to float around aimlessly, like idle characters in a video game.

It didn’t help that the trainee floor felt like a game too: a game of interpreting awkwardly-placed signs and room numbers that more often than not took you to all the wrong places. The fated storage closet was just one of them, hidden behind a mirrored door you thought would lead to an empty practice room.

“What the hell?”

Upon entering, you were met with lopsided IKEA shelves filled to their maximum capacities with cleaning supplies and cardboard boxes. It was a back room not meant to be associated with the company’s poppy, pretty exterior: drab but organic, clearly deviating from the standard blue-pink candy colour scheme. Amidst the mess sat a boy around your age, pale faced, black haired, wearing round glasses. He was perched atop an old washing machine, his focus glued insistently to a mobile game, until you unceremoniously barged in. Then he looked up like a deer caught in headlights, instinctively shoving the phone into the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Hi.”

You stared at him, confused. “Sorry, uh… this isn’t practice room B, is it?”

“This is practice room D,” he said.

You stared at him. He stared back—completely deadpan for several seconds before breaking into a toothy smile. “I’m just messing with you. B’s around the corner, on your right.”

“Thanks.”

“New here?”

Like you already had several times that day, you nodded. But unlike previous occurrences, he didn’t welcome you halfheartedly and then float away—or rightfully kick you out of his hiding spot. Instead, he noted your attire and demeanour, both of which lacked the usual jitters and nervousness of a new recruit. “But not new to the scene, are we?”

“No, not really,” you said.

“How long?” It was a touchy question amongst trainees, strangers especially. Yet from him, it hardly seemed invasive, only curious.

“Two years now.”

Intrigued, he hopped down from the washing machine. Even back then, he hovered a few inches above you, just a little lanky, still in the process of growing into himself. “Me too. Debut is a scam.”

“A scam you and I keep falling for,” you reminded him with a chuckle.

To your relief, he cracked another smile. “You’re so right,” he laughed, sticking his hand out to shake. “Kim Doyoung. Welcome to Vitamin.”

You would soon learn that Doyoung took everything with good humour. And from that alone, you knew you would become good friends.

You saw each other quite frequently after that. For the sake of their finances, the companies had lumped all their trainees together regardless of gender and experience. You tripped over yourselves in cramped dance studios and listened to strained voices together in vocal rooms. On weekends, you slept for eighteen hours at a time and debated dropping out to pursue proper higher education, only answering calls from your fellow trainees if it involved free food. And on Monday mornings, you got right back to work.

It was less busy in the wintertime, thankfully. When the foreign trainees were granted long breaks to see their families and the high schoolers took time off to study for their finals, you and Doyoung had to keep each other company. Little got done those days, as you opted to play variations of “Fuck Marry Kill” or “Never Have I Ever” over soju from a plastic soda bottle.

“Johnny, Yuta and Airi,” Doyoung prompted with a snicker and took a lazy swig, as if it were anything but an easy decision.

“Oh, c’mon,” you retorted, stealing the bottle back from him. “Kill John, obviously.”

“Good choice.”

“I’d pay money to marry Airi. And then fuck Yuta.”

“Way to immediately ruin your marriage.”

It was pure reflex to hit him hard on the head, with the closest thing you could find. “Not in that order, smartass!”

Unfazed, Doyoung only glared at you. “Just for that attitude, we’re skipping your turn.”

“What type of fucking rules— Wait—”

“Airi, the nail tech who ruined your set last month, and…” He trailed off playfully, purposely making you wait in irritation—but your impatience quickly turned into shock. “Me.”

You damn well choked on your own spit.

You’d never seen Doyoung that way, much less had any time to entertain those kinds of thoughts. Maybe some quiet recognition and acknowledgement when you first met him, which was about a year ago now: just a respectful and very private nod to how well he would do as a celebrity. He was polite when he talked, pretty when he sang, confident when he danced… but were you appreciating those qualities because you needed them yourself? Or did they really make you see him in a different light?

“I’m still marrying Airi,” you started defensively. “Killing the nail tech. She literally scammed me. And did you see that neon pink she used? Absolutely foul.”

Doyoung raised a brow. “And…?”

“If you ask me nicely, you might just get what you want.”

Silence. You stared at each other for a long moment, but ultimately both decided you’d had enough fun.

“Meh, I wouldn’t fuck you.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

It had always been easy to be so brutally honest with each other.

The incident went completely forgotten until a year later—one evening when you found yourselves in a tight circle with the other trainees, drinking beer and spinning Doyoung’s empty soju/soda bottle for shits and giggles. It was cliche, certainly. But you were all missing out on drunken college parties in the real world, and this was as good as entertainment would get.

The bottle spun and spun, making rounds but always narrowly avoiding you, picking and choosing duos to go into the notorious storage closet for the allotted seven minutes. Within half an hour, Yuta and Airi had come back disheveled, while Ten had returned with pink marks on his neck—the latter of which lost you five thousand won to Doyoung in a stupid bet. Not all pairings were so frivolous, however, with Johnny and Mark deciding to awkwardly play tic tac toe seven times on the same crumpled napkin.

By your impeccable luck and the good graces of the saints, the last spin of the bottle matched you with Doyoung.

“He’s probably just gonna fall asleep,” you grunted, then dragged him out of the room.

“You know, all of these losers have been faking it,” Doyoung said once you’d shut the door and set a timer on your phone. He sent you a knowing look. “I mean, if you’re hung up over Airi and Yuta, they probably just jogged on the spot for seven minutes. They respect each other way too much.”

“In that case, give me my money back,” you said, already making a grab for the five thousand won.

“What?” His hand immediately flew up to guard the pocket of his track pants, where he was keeping your money. “Oh no, Ten’s was probably real. You think he just punched himself in the throat for seven minutes while Kun watched?”

“Damn, okay, I didn’t know I was friends with fucking Sherlock Holmes himself.”

Doyoung cackled, slapping your shoulder hard enough to send you into the wall. “C’mon, they’ve liked each other—well, pretended to hate each other—for years now.”

Then for whatever reason, your last game of ‘Fuck Marry Kill’ suddenly crossed your mind.

“Should we do them all one better?”

He was skeptical, but perhaps more so by the logistics than the notion of actually doing it. He checked the timer. “How, by actually making out? We’ve got, like, five minutes.”

“That seems like a good amount of time.”

He paused and looked down at the timer again. You were left anticipating his reply for just a few seconds, but there was little anxiety attached to it.

“Fuck it, why not.”

He set your phone down on the nearest shelf, turned you around to face him, and suddenly his lips were on yours.

That was the very first time you flinched away. It wasn’t bad, or even that weird considering your being friends, but there was a sudden confidence behind it that made you realize two things. One: there were multiple sides to this guy, as there were with all people, and one you had never taken seriously. Two: the side of him you were missing was his attractiveness.

You parted from him to catch your breath, completely caught off guard by the way he’d tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up to meet him halfway (where the hell did he learn that from, K-dramas?). His hands quickly found your shoulders instead, comforting despite the way his eyes widened and he rushed to apologize. “Too much?”

“No, I just—” You laughed. “Surprised, that’s all.”

He caught onto your train of thought quickly enough, and when you didn’t protest, gently crowded you against the wall. “Didn’t think I’d have some experience after twenty years of life? I’m not a stick in the mud.”

“Straight A’s in high school, perfect attendance, vice president of the student council, after school volunteering, part-time tutoring—”

“A surprising number of girls were into that,” Doyoung retorted, then grinned proudly. “Boys too.”

“Ugh, so you peaked in high school, we get it,” you grumbled.

“Ugh, so you’re jealous, we get it.”

“Shut up.”

“Got it.”

With that said, he pressed his lips back to yours and snaked an arm around your waist—with a surprising amount of care given the spontaneity of this entire ploy in the first place. Not one to be outdone, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. It didn’t take long for him to grab both your wrists after that, pinning them above you and fully caging you in. It was undoubtedly rushed and messy as you raced against time, the alcohol from earlier obviously playing some part too.

When the timer went off, Doyoung gently pushed off from the wall and reached for your phone. But his gaze never left yours—his eyes staying insistently dark and full of mischief even as he silenced the offensive ringtone. But eventually, he broke into laughter, at which point you realized he was messing with you again.

“That was fun,” he chirped as he fixed his hair in the reflection of a broken TV. Then jokingly, “I’d give it a 4 out of 5.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks Doyoung, your review helps small businesses like ours improve and get those five stars. Would you do it again?”

He swung around to look at you, surprised.

“Maybe.”

Funnily enough, “maybe” became something entirely different, as you began sneaking off with each other at every possible moment. Rarely to do something as scandalous as making out in a storage closet (although sometimes), but spending more time together nonetheless. You often forwent sleep entirely and wasted away the early hours with him, eating at random diners and burger joints, or watching the stars from an empty parking lot.

It became apparent pretty quickly: you’d been a little too studious in high school, and still tightly-wound two years after graduation. But now at twenty years of age, you felt some strange urge to develop a rebellious streak. Doyoung was no different despite always denying it, frequently taking his brother’s car out for joy rides and continuing to sneak alcohol into the practice rooms. Admittedly, he sometimes fell back into the old habitual role of goody-two-shoes, entertaining what-if scenarios and cover stories for use if the two of you ever got caught.

But you weren’t doing anything illegal, much less even wrong. Plenty of trainees spent their evenings doing much more questionable things. And no one at the company had formally banned you from dating as predebut, wannabe stars, although it was obviously frowned upon. And most importantly, neither you nor Doyoung had said anything about dating.

Surely it had crossed both your minds. On occasion, once he’d kissed you breathless and stared you down with some unfathomable emotion, you had to resist the urge to blurt out, “What are we, exactly?” It wasn’t just the present state of your relationship that mattered. It was all else that might follow.

If it was all for shits and giggles now, would it develop? With debut being the obvious goal after four years of gruelling work, what would you do if you both reached the goal and something had developed by then? Break up? Stay together secretly despite the obvious backlash that would ensue if people found out? After every sleepless night, every car ride, every midnight dinner, you caught yourself thinking about it.

Eight months later, things took an abrupt turn.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

The bathroom door slammed shut behind you as you stormed into the common area of your dorm—now empty, with Mina out shopping and the two younger trainees you lived with having gone home for the weekend. Something about their absence and the lack of activity sharpened the rest of your senses, perpetuating the sharp sound of static that filled your phone call. The place had felt incredibly deserted for weeks, growing gloomier and quieter with every departure of an ex-trainee.

The company was down in numbers again.

“They can’t just—” you let out a muffled noise of frustration, putting Doyoung on speaker so you could continue stomping around. “I mean, why?!”

“Yuta leaving was the last straw,” Doyoung replied, just as agitated by the news. His voice cut in and out of white noise. “If he hadn’t, they could make do with debuting us as a trio and delaying you and the girls by a year or two. Or if Airi and Jiwoo were still here, the other way around—”

“But why are they in such a rush?” you spat. “What’s five years without putting out a new group? Bankruptcy?”

Doyoung didn’t respond. But you could tell it was because he was preoccupied. The sounds of city traffic and wind were prevalent on his end, as he presumably made haste toward some place. Suddenly, it went silent. A door swung open, then clanged shut. “C’mon,” he said breathlessly. “I’m downstairs.”

You grabbed only your phone and keys before stumbling out to find him. Not knowing how he’d arrived so quickly, you could only be grateful that you weren’t all alone.

Upon seeing him, you practically launched yourself from the stairs and crashed into his arms. The anger and frustration hit all at once, as you buried your head into his chest—burning hot and relentless against all reason, far too overwhelming as it pushed down on you. Then came embarrassment and overwhelming discomfort for even feeling angry in the first place. Was it selfish to be this angry? Was it selfish to feel so much hatred?

They’d served you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity on a silver platter, yet you could only think of yourself. You could only blurt out one scathing hot truth that would have sent your younger trainee self into hysterics:

“I don’t want this.”

Doyoung was calm as ever, but you could hear the strain in his voice. “I know.”

“I— It’s stupid! No one asked for this. I didn’t sacrifice four years of my life to put up with this!”

There was no reply this time. Not for a long time. When you finally resurfaced from the warm fleece of his scarf for air, he was wiping the tears from your cheeks. A physical outburst from the overload of conflicting emotions, one you had hardly noticed.

At the core of the situation was just that: conflict. You were torn between relief and apprehension, joy and anger, so incredibly relieved that your efforts hadn’t gone to waste, but so disgusted by the company’s blatant reach for attention. So eager to take the offer, but terrified that it would prove to be the wrong decision.

You, Doyoung, Mina and Johnny. It was a lineup unlike anything anyone had seen in years, unconventional in the Korean pop scene for obvious reasons. All you had to do was sign the documents. Then debut was all yours—likely alongside criticism and skepticism from everyone watching.

“I know I’m being ungrateful,” you said, barely louder than a whisper. “But I didn’t sign up to deal with ridicule and rumours the moment we’re announced. Why do we have to deal with that bullshit when the consequences are their fault?”

When it came to consolation, people failed to acknowledge the necessity of a listening ear over advice. And in that moment, you were grateful that Doyoung listened. No unsolicited comments pointing out your tendency to blow things out of proportion, no attempt to calm you with reason. It was in Doyoung’s nature to analyze, to stay logical, to stay grounded in reality at every sharp turn of the road. But he did nothing of the sort, knowing it wasn’t in yours. There was only a warm embrace to cling onto—then a simple reassurance that would’ve broken you, had it not come from someone who really meant it.

“We’ll be okay.”

He let you settle back against him. For several minutes after that, you rocked back and forth in his arms, thinking to yourself, Will we though? It had finally dawned on you, what awaited you in the coming days, months, years, even.

“What about us?” What… are we?”

He mustered a wry grimace at the question, slowly pulling apart to hold you at arm’s length. The weariness of his expression didn’t look right on the face of a 22-year-old. You wondered if you looked the same: tired and worn out years before the average person begins to wear. “Regardless of what we are now, regardless of what we become if we sign contracts, we were friends first. Right?”

You nodded, but suddenly found it difficult to look him in the eye.

“And at the end of the day—of any day, good or bad—we’ll always be friends, yeah?”

You’d seen him at his ugliest, and he’d seen you at yours: from his episodes of black-out drunkenness, to the insults you used to hurl at your parents over the phone. You’d fought on occasion too, exchanging backhanded comments and getting into full-blown arguments before reconciling later. There was nothing to hide from each other, and no one you trusted more with your secrets. No one knew both you and the industry you worked in quite like him. It went both ways.

So you nodded again.

He gave you a wry smile. “Then let’s be friends while we deal with all the other shit. If we want to be something else some other time, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” There was a long, nervous breath, as his hands found yours to steady himself. “Is that okay with you?”

Insinuating that you could be something else in the future. Insinuating that his mind had wandered in the same direction as yours, at some point in time.

“Okay,” you murmured softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “That’s okay.”

As friends, you found momentarily solace in each other, while the wind howled outside.

“The way I see it? The company doesn’t give two flying fucks.”

Johnny’s voice rang out across the room, ever loud and thunderous like the titan himself—despite a mouthful of McDonald’s fries and ice cream. A chorus of hushed and panicked voices followed immediately.

“Seo, you better shut your fucking mouth.”

“Ew, John you got spit on me!”

“Dispatch would have a field day with this one.”

“Can’t take this man anywhere, I swear,” Doyoung rolled his eyes, leaning over to snatch a chicken nugget from your tray. Just as quickly, you wrestled it out of his hand and shoved it into your mouth, your idol etiquette class be damned.

“Can’t take you anywhere either,” you scoffed, then pointed at Johnny with greased-up fingers. “As much as you need to learn how to shut the hell up when we’re in public, continue.”

He gave an indifferent shrug and kept shoveling vanilla soft serve into his mouth. Away from formal settings and the prying eyes of company seniors who expected utmost discipline, Johnny Seo was nothing short of an American frat boy pulled straight from a cliche American movie: most commonly seen in joggers and leisure wear, stumbling lazily over his words, eyes constantly half-closed like he was stoned out of his mind.

“I said, the company wouldn’t give two flying fucks if we, hypothetically, dated each other. Well, ideally they don’t want us to at all, but if it’s gonna be a dating scandal, best keep it between two people from the same agency,” he said, admittedly quieter now, but with a definitive thud of his empty sundae cup against the table as if to make a groundbreaking point.

“Yes, love, we’ve established that already, we can all read and already noticed that dating rules weren’t outlined in the contract,” Mina sighed from next to him, deadpan and feigning boredom. “Got anything more interesting to share?”

“Well obviously, I wasn’t finished talking,” Johnny huffed, but quickly continued when everyone jeered in annoyance. “Just think about the publicity. Fans love couples that make music together, they eat that shit up. So let’s say someone starts dating. Good for the company. Say nothing happens at all, for the entire length of our contracts. Also good for the company.”

“What if they break up?” Doyoung asked, skeptical. “Still good for the company?”

“Yes, because they’d say it was an amicable breakup in favour of both parties’ careers, get free publicity, get praised for being professional, and life goes on,” Johnny snorted. “We’re dealing with execs who will try to make money off anything you throw at them. They’re all capitalist pigs.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “You’re literally American.”

Johnny glared. “You have tea and crumpets for breakfast.”

“What if the couple’s gay?” you broke in before the two could start another squabble over their nationalities and British colonialism. If you were exploring hypotheticals, why not explore them all?

“I’m not gay,” Johnny said immediately.

“I never said you were,” you snapped. “I said what if.”

“Then they’ll never disclose it, the public is left to speculate, and fans make one hell of a tag on AO3. At the end of the day, nothing particularly bad for the company.”

Doyoung frowned, confused. “What’s aye-oh-three?”

“John reads gay fanfiction.”

“I don’t!”

Then the table descended into another war, and in the midst of the chaos, Doyoung ate your remaining chicken nuggets.

Still just a group of nameless, faceless kids at the corner McDonald’s, the four of you let your profanities and threats flow free. You all knew: things would change drastically in the coming weeks, and you wanted to hold onto this for just a little longer. Regardless of pending fame, regardless of possible successes or failures, it wouldn’t be every day that you ate fast food and caused mayhem in public this spontaneously. Nor insulted Johnny this freely, nor copied Mina’s British vulgarities in a near-insulting accent, nor curled up over Doyoung’s shoulders when you inevitably got tired.

How ironic it was, bringing yet another youthful, chipper idol group into the industry, when you’d sacrificed all your teenage years for this moment. While Doyoung carried you across the parking lot on his back, you thought back to when you’d put your pen to the paper and signed neatly in the little box they’d provided. It was hard to believe that it had happened only a few hours ago. Even your exit from the restaurant, barely five minutes ago, felt so far away. You were incredibly wired, overwhelmed, always overthinking.

You trekked back to the dorm by bus, Doyoung having relinquished access to his brother’s car, and your new manager not yet responsible for your every move and location, much less driving you places. You’d met him earlier in the day—a handsome, charismatic, 30-something-year-old who could easily debut himself if not for his age—hardly spoke, and quickly exchanged goodbyes. You could only hope that he would turn out about as easy-going as he looked.

It was past midnight when you arrived home: a modest building not too far from the company building, two small units split between the boys and girls. Soon after, Mina went out to the convenience store for ice cream, while Johnny went up to the roof to puff on his vape. You found yourself sprawled out on Doyoung’s bed, watching him browse internet deals on Coupang. It didn’t take long for you to make it to his side and slouch against him with your arms around his neck. It took only minutes for him to put his laptop aside and hold you properly. Barely a few moments for him to throw caution to the wind and kiss you.

Something about it felt more like a parting gesture than anything else. Like a silent and mutual agreement that this—whatever this was—would have to stop soon. Like you both acknowledged the lack of clear definition for your relationship, and that it was okay. Some part of you was envisioning everything that could go wrong from here. The other part of you fully trusted his judgement, and your own.

“Won’t be able to do this once Kibum moves in tomorrow,” he gave a breathless laugh several minutes later. But he sobered quickly enough, brushing aside a stray strand of your hair and whispering, “Probably shouldn’t, anyways.”

“Probably won’t have time,” you joked lightly. “Only four hours of free time a day? I’d rather be sleeping in those four hours, not sucking your face, thanks.”

“Not sure how we’ll survive that.”

“What, not sucking face?”

He looked at you, clearly unimpressed. “No, only getting four hours of sleep every night.”

“Maybe even less than four.”

“Double stuff me in the ass.”

“Christ, Doyoung.”

Ever true to himself, he hurried to undo his vulgarities. He smoothed your hair down again, laughing quietly and murmuring in your ear, “Joking. I think we’ll be okay.”

Then he closed the distance between your lips one last time, gently taking your face in his hands to give you a proper goodbye.

We’ll be okay.

Those words carried more weight than he even knew, following you long after you parted. It was there when you finally retired to bed, still echoing when the lights went out—lulling you to sleep where you would have been tossing and turning in any other circumstance.

We’ll be okay.

IMG_4749.MOV from Mina’s iPhone

“Observe: Kim Doyoung reading his first fanfiction on AO3. It’s, um. A Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy ABO male pregnancy mafia kidnapping AU that ____ found—”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Read it out loud!”

“What the fuck am I reading?! ‘His fifteen-inch-long co—‘ JOHN YOUNGHO SEO, YOU DERANGED SON OF A BITCH!! IS THIS WHAT YOU READ IN YOUR FREE TIME—”

“We’re so getting fired if this video gets out.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Some more tomfoolery for this fic here! (I said this was 10% crack this is what I meant)

#nct #nct 127 #nct dojaejung #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung fanfic #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung drabbles

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stevie-petey · 2 years ago

Text

Sweet Nothing

summary: you're in the kitchen humming, and steve couldn't be more in love with how you love him.

paring: steve harrington x fem!reader.

rating: general, this is just fluff and lots of sentimental thoughts tbh.

warnings: some slight cursing, use of y/n, steve being a teen boy towards the end and making a dirty joke. 2k words !

before you swing in: this is my first steve harrington fic and my first y/n fic, so please bear with me ! i did my best, i just really love the mans and wanted to try my hand at this. this fic takes place just after season 3, and the reader has been involved with all the stranger things adventures since season 1 :) - also, if you can't tell from the title, this is based off of sweet nothing by taylor swift. this song makes me want to romantically hold someone's hand. hope you enjoy !

—

The sound of you humming greets Steve when he enters his house after a shift at Family Video. His exhaustion fades immediately when he hears you and a smile spreads across his face. He walks towards the kitchen; you haven’t heard him come in yet, too distracted with the meal you’re making.

Steve approaches you from behind and wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You lean into him as he begins peppering sweet kisses against your neck and bare shoulders. The late August heat doesn’t allow you to wear anything else but tank tops and shorts these days.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He whispers into your ear, kissing your earlobe before pulling away. “What grand concoction have you created here tonight?”

You shift so that Steve can see the chicken you’ve just stirred into the pasta. “I’m about to start on the salad, I figured you could eat some greens.”

“I’m not eight–”

“You act like you are.”

“Last I checked, this is my home–”

You cut off Steve’s complaining with a kiss, which he happily accepts. Technically he’s right, it is his house, but ever since the two of you got together Steve has never failed to remind you that whenever his parents are away, you’re more than welcome to barge in at random. You thought he was exaggerating originally, but the first time his parents were gone he demanded that you spend the entire weekend at his place.

Since then, you’ve taken Steve’s word and you now use the empty space to your advantage to spoil the boy whenever you can. The two of you have had a rough summer, and you involuntarily shudder at the memory of the Russians from just a month ago.

Steve notices your sudden discomfort and nudges your side. “Hey, you all right?”

“Yeah,” You shake your head as if to dispel the memories. “Anyways, it may be your house, but we both know you’d die of starvation without me.”

Steve raises his hands in surrender, knowing that you are absolutely correct. Before you came into his life, he would spend these lonely nights staring at the empty refrigerator, his stomach growling. Before you, a lot of aspects of Steve’s life were empty.

You set the stove burner down low so the meal can simmer and you can start on the salad, but the smell of sweat and dust makes your nose scrunch up in displeasure and you turn to face your boyfriend. “Steve, light of my life, man of my dreams, body with my favorite pair of lips attached… you reek.”

The man in question acts as if he’s been shot, clutching at his chest dramatically and gasps for air. “I’ve been hit! God, Y/N, you’ve killed me.”

You grab the wooden spoon you’d been using for the pasta and wave it threateningly at Steve. “Either you shower and we can eat this lovely meal together or I leave. You choose.”

Steve groans dramatically but complies, giving you a mock salute and running upstairs to his bathroom to rinse off.

“You’re no longer a part of the Scoops Troop!” You shout up to him, giggling when all he says back to you is “can’t a man live?”

It doesn’t take Steve long to get cleaned up, and by the time he comes downstairs wearing a worn hoodie and sweats, you’re putting dinner on the table.

Steve whistles. “Well, isn’t this domestic?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I’m only here for your kitchen, remember that, Harrington.”

“I’d argue that you’re here for my beautiful, deadly attractive, daring good looks.”

“In your dreams, bud.”

You begin making Steve a plate and beckon for him to sit, and Steve’s heart warms as he watches you scoff at all his jokes, easily keeping up with his sarcasm, and then dote on him as if it’s in your second nature. He can’t believe he got so lucky to be loved by you.

Everything is so easy when it comes to you, and Steve adores the partnership you've formed through years of trust and hardship. While he can’t say he’s necessarily glad that it took almost dying at the Byers’ house for the two of you to meet, he has to admit that it led to the best thing in his life.

“Here you go, love.” You gently place a plate in front of Steve, and God he’s so in love.

The two of you eat mostly in silence, and the meal is incredible because everything you do is incredible (in Steve’s unbiased opinion). There are a few teases here and there, Steve compliments the meal until you’re crying from laughter, and it’s all just lovely. The house feels warm, and Steve never imagined that his home could feel warm.

Once you both finish eating, Steve clears the table and begins to wash the dishes while you dry them. Though you’ve only made dinner at the Harrington house a few times before this, you and Steve have created a solid routine. You cook, he cleans, and then afterwards you both watch a movie. It’s simple, but it makes Steve melt inside; it feels like a home.

He gets lost in thought as he rinses the dishes, and you’re once again next to him, humming a familiar tune. After everything he’s been through, Steve would do it all again if it meant he’d have you by his side, cooking dinners and groaning at his movie choices.

This summer, when Robin first met you, she was convinced that Steve was paying you to be with him. Originally he laughed at her teasing, but when he comes home to you in his kitchen humming, he thinks that maybe fate was being too kind to him.

Here you are, dutifully drying off the dish Steve has just handed you, your hair pushed behind your ear as you focus on your task, your eyebrows slightly scrunched as you inspect your work; Steve is struck by how beautiful you are. You’re his. What did he do to deserve you?

“Lovely, if you want me to dry the plates off, you need to rinse them first.”

Steve breaks out of his thoughts and sends you a sheepish look. “Sorry… got distracted, I guess.”

You frown. “What, is my humming not entertaining enough for you?”

Despite not wanting to, Steve chuckles. “No, I promise I love hearing your grating voice.”

Gasping, you throw the towel you’re holding at Steve and he easily catches it. You’re still clutching the rag, and he uses this to his advantage, pulling at the towel so that you’re close to him as well. You end up face to face with him, and even after months of being together you can’t help but blush.

“You planned that.”

“Sure I did, sweetheart.”

You wait for Steve to do something else, but he seems content to just have you close to him as he gazes at your face. You’ve had boyfriends before Steve, and whenever they stared at you it always made you feel uncomfortable. With Steve, it feels safe.

During your towel endeavors, a strand of your hair falls in your face, and Steve gently pushes it behind your ear. He’s looking at you so tenderly that it makes your bones ache, but there’s also an uncertainty that you’re unfamiliar with. Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, Steve begins to speak.

“Did you know that you’re the only person who has never wanted something from me? You just… you see something within me that’s already there, and you accept that part of me without demanding more from it. It’s enough for you.”

Though the words make you want to kiss the life out of Steve, a part of you wonders what’s sparked this topic. “Where’s this coming from, love?”

Steve sighs, struggling to string his words together. “I-I don’t know, I just– we spend hours together every day, and from the moment I met you I have never once felt like I needed to put on this act in front of you.”

“An act?”

“It sounds dumb, I know–” Embarrassed, Steve attempts to pull away but you grab his face and coax him to look at you.

“Shh, no, it’s okay. Talk to me, what act have you felt like you’ve needed to put on for other people?”

You watch Steve’s face, the way he struggles to find a way to express his fears, and all you want to do is shield him away from it all. “I have this… this fear that if I’m not someone interesting, or cool, or–or funny, or anything less than entertaining, then– then I’m not good enough. I mean, that’s pathetic, right? Being so afraid that being myself will bore the people who I want to love me.”

Steve’s words sadden you and your first instinct is to immediately tell him that he’s wrong, that he shouldn’t ever feel such a burden of not being enough. He’s more than enough, he’s everything to you, but you also understand where this fear has come from. You think about how often his parents leave, the kids at school demanding this specific persona from him, the way he clutches at people who are nice to him in hopes of them becoming his friend. Steve has been beaten and broken down through the course of his life; you can’t go back in time and fix that, so you tell him the only words you believe he needs to hear.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic, Steve. It’s human, and I love you all the more for it.”

Surprise crosses Steve’s face. “You… you love me?”

You laugh, nodding your head and you drag a finger across his cheek, admiring the way his stubble feels against your skin. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m so madly in love with you, and luck was never on my side.” Steve is smiling so wide you’re afraid he’ll hurt himself somehow. He’s glowing and happy and you truly believe he’s never looked so beautiful.

“Luck or not, loving you comes easily to me. You’re frustratingly loveable, Steve Harrington.”

Steve bats his eyelashes at you. “Obviously.”

He’s happy again, back to his overly confident self, and you love him even more somehow. Steve is always showing you new sides of himself, some more vulnerable than others, and you’re honored he trusts you with these sides of him.

Later that night, you’re laying on his chest as a random movie plays. You honestly have no idea what Steve put on, you had tuned him out when he was explaining how Robin demanded they watch the film and the lore behind it that apparently they needed to know. He had looked too pretty while speaking, so that was all you focused on.

Now images flashed on the screen in front of you and your eyes began to feel heavy. You’d come straight from your shift at the arcade to Steve’s, eager to prepare the dinner you had in mind.

You glance at the clock and see that it’s almost ten. While it was summer, your parents still requested that you come home at reasonable hours; they let you stay at Steve’s for days on end, so you couldn’t really argue with them about a curfew. Fair was fair.

Lifting your head up, you poke at Steve’s chest. “I gotta go home soon, Harrington. Don’t forget.”

Steve shoos your hand off his chest, eyes still on the screen. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Steve–”

“Shhhhh!”

“Steve Harrington!” You grab a pillow and hit his chest. “Did you just shush me?”

“Well clearly it didn’t work–”

You jump on top of Steve and start shaking him. “I made you a lovely dinner tonight, I even made your plate, and now you treat me like–”

Your words are cut off as Steve wraps his arms around your waist and flips the two of you so that he’s now on top. He begins to tickle you and you squeal with laughter, desperately trying to get away from his cruel attack.

“St-stop!” You gasp for breath, but Steve continues on. “Please! Steve, oh my GOD!”

Steve smirks. “I always love making you breathless and begging.”

His words don’t help the situation and you’re left defensiveness against him. Your ribs start to hurt from laughing so much, and Steve joins in, so proud of himself. You can’t help but think of how he’s such a moron, but he’s a moron that you love.

“Steve–”

“I’ll stop if you tell me you love me again.”

You try to catch your breath, but he continues to tickle you and it’s hard to get the words out, but you do your best. “I-I love– that tickles, you asshole!”

“That’s a weird way to confess your love for me, Y/N.”

“I love you!” You finally manage to force out, and immediately Steve keeps to his word and stops tickling you. He remains above you, smiling all smug, and you struggle to steady your breathing. “You’re evil.”

“Yeah, well.” A soft smile graces Steve’s face. “You love me, anyways.”

You reach out and tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his head down so that you can kiss him. It’s slow and sweet, no heat behind it; these kisses are your favorite to receive from Steve. “I do love you.”

“Good. Now, shall we get my lady home?”

Steve helps you stand up, gentle with you as always, and he helps you fix your now crooked top and ruffled hair. He holds your hand, guiding you out the door, and opens his car door for you. You had brought your own car here, but even without asking you know that Steve wants to take you home himself. He’ll pick you up some other time so you can have your car back. For now, he’s gotta take care of his girl.

“I get my own escort home? Wow, who knew Steve Harrington was such a gentleman.”

“Hardy har har.”

You get in the car and buckle yourself in, watching as Steve fixes his mirrors and begins the slow drive back to your house. “Careful, love. You wouldn’t want people to think you’re getting soft for me.”

Rather than sarcastically respond like you expect him to, Steve hums and shrugs his shoulders. “Sweetheart, I think we’ve established that I’m too soft for all of it.”

You’re quiet for a moment, contemplating how to respond before simply saying, “I’ll be careful.”

It’s three words, but to Steve it’s everything he could ask for. He smiles at you, reaching over the counsel to hold your hand, and you drive in comfortable silence the rest of the way home

—

done ! thank yall for readin, i hope you guys liked this, and i really want to write more depending on how this does. i just think steve harrington is neat.

bye <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #m’s writing #this was fun i blacked out and wrote it in two hours #fluff #insane fluff

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alcapzr · 4 days ago

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hi can you write an angsty cole or dylan fic pleaseeeee

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑨 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 ♡︎ (Cole Preston X FemReader)

Content: Angst, Neutral ending, Temporary separation ,Atlantic records being a bitch, Insecurities, Anxiety attack, Sligth Mental health issues, Kinda hurt comfort, Y/N use, Cole holding the reader, Mention of medications, Vulnerability.

A/N: By the way, I'm also working on a Dylan angst, that's why this one took longer to come out. Also, I'm sorry because I feel like it's not very good and it's shorter. But it's because that here in Mexico it's just the end of the school year so the end of my junior year is killing me :(

The fan whirred in the corner, but the room was too quiet. Cole paced back and forth, his hands slightly shaking, biting his thumbnail the way he does when he's about to blurt out something he doesn't want to say.

And you... you already knew. Not with words. With the way he hadn't wanted to look you straight in the eye all night.

"Will you stop doing that and tell me what's wrong?" you whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed with your knees hugged, wearing his hoodie because it made it easier to pretend you didn't feel like you were going to break down.

He stopped. He took a deep breath.

"I got a call from Atlantic this afternoon," he said. His voice was low. Almost childlike. As if he didn't want you to hear it. As if saying it out loud would make it hurt more.

You swallowed.

"So?"

"About the tour. The end. July and August..." His eyes were shining. He wasn't crying. Not yet. But there was something fragile about him. Something you hadn't seen since he apologized for forgetting your birthday mid-tour.

The silence lasted so long you almost screamed at him.

But your body was already doing its thing: goosebumps, stomach churning, heart pounding as if it knew the end was coming.

"Will I not be able to go with you?" you asked, your voice dry.

Dead. As if the phrase wasn't coming from your mouth, but from a version of you that was already shattered.

Cole closed his eyes. He shook his head. "No. They won't cover your expenses. This time... they refused."

You sank a little deeper into the bed. As if each word weighed three times as much. As if your chest was shrinking in slow motion. "But... what if we pay for it?" you tried. Hope cracked between your teeth.

"I tried. I told them I'd cover it. I told them I didn't care. That you always go with me, that you..." he broke off.

"They told me you're distracting me." That… that I'm not the same when you're there. That I'm not "focused.".

Your laugh came out like a gag. Ironic. Empty. "So I'm Yoko Ono now? Is that what they say? That I'm screwing Wallows over by loving you?"

Cole clenched his fists. "No, no, no. It's not that, babe. You know I don't believe that. I don't think that. But they... They think if I take you again, I'll slow down. That it's not good for them. They told me like you were a burden. And I felt... powerless."

Your eyes filled without permission. And you did nothing to stop it. You didn't even wipe them. Because there was nothing to hide: you were broken.

"And what did you do, Cole? What did you do when they told you that? Did you stand up and tell That this tour is mine too, because I was with you through every fucking breakdown, every late-night mix session, every fucking rehearsal where you wanted to throw everything away? What did you do?"

Cole crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees as if the touch could stop the wound. But it was too late. He was already bleeding.

"I fought, love. I screamed. I got out of the call. I threw the phone away. You don't know how much this hurts. You don't know."

"Yes, I know," you said softly, your throat raw. "Because you're going on tour... and I'm left here feeling like it was a mistake you made loving me."

Cole opened his mouth, but no words came out. Only labored breaths. Only glassy eyes and the desperation of someone who doesn't know how to hold the person falling in front of them.

"I don't want you to think that," he whispered. "You're not a mistake. You are... you are everything that makes me feel good."

But your tears weren't listening anymore. Not your chest. Not your mind, which was beginning to whisper to you that, maybe, they were right. That maybe you weren't a muse, or a love, or a companion. Maybe you were just a distraction.

You don't know when you stopped listening to him. Cole's words bounced back like distant echoes, distorted, floating in that dense fog that enveloped your ears, your chest, your veins.

Something was tightening inside you. Something you didn't know how to let go. He was talking to you. You knew it. You saw him there, in front of you, so close, with swollen eyes and that despair that only those who truly love feel when they see their love breaking.

But you were already far away. Very far away. Sunk.

> "If it bothered them that I went with you... what's next?"

The thought came without permission. Cold. Lucid. Deadly.

> "They're going to ask him to leave you."

Your heart stopped for a second.

"Y/N." Cole touched your face. His hand was trembling. "My love, look at me. Look at me, please."

But you gently pushed him away. As if he were burning you. As if his love were a lit match you couldn't hold.

"They're going to ask you, aren't they?" you whispered, your voice hollow. Empty. As if you were reading your sentence.

Cole frowned, hurt. "What?"

"That you leave me. They're going to tell you to leave me if you want to stay in the band, if you want to be taken seriously. They're going to say I'm a distraction. That I'm your weakness. That I'm a hindrance."

"No." His voice was sharp, cutting. But you couldn't stop.

"And you're going to think they're right. And you won't know when it started, but one day you're going to look in the mirror and think you could be further away, taller, bigger... without me. And you're going to start loving me silently. Then with guilt. And then... not even that." Your voice broke.

Cole crouched down in front of you again, but now his eyes were pure pleading. As if he was hanging by a thread too.

"Don't say that. I'm never going to leave you. You're a part of me. You're my home."

But your chest was already hurting so much that you had to grab the edge of the mattress.

Anxiety doesn't give warning. It hits you like a truck. And you were leaving. From your body. From his love. From yourself.

"I can't breathe," you murmured, bringing your hands to your chest. "Cole, I can't..."

He stood up quickly, searching your eyes. He held your face with both hands as if he was afraid you'd faint in front of him.

"I'm here, babe. Breathe with me, okay? Come on, look at me. Breathe with me, one... two..."

But you couldn't. Because the air wouldn't come in. Because the tears fell without you feeling them. Because in your head, Atlantic Records hadn't just taken you off the tour. They were ripping you from his life. And you didn't know if you had the strength to stay and watch yourself slowly lose it.

“Let me talk, please,” you begged, your voice shattering. “Just… let me say everything, even if it hurts. Don’t interrupt me. Don’t calm me down. Don’t try to fix it. Just… let me break.”

Cole nodded, his lips pressed together, his eyes crystal clear. He sat on the floor in front of you, knees drawn up, fingers intertwined. Like a punished child waiting for the end of the world.

And you, for the first time, saw him with anger. With fear. With pain. But most of all… with a love so fragile it was frightening. And you knew you were going to say it. Everything. Even if it hurt. Even if it bled.

The creaking of your own heartbeat reverberates in your ears; you no longer feel the carpet, nor the sticky air against your skin. Instead, you feel vertigo. That furious emptiness that rises from your stomach to your throat as if it's about to overwhelm you.

Cole still holds your face, but your pupils begin to chase ghosts behind him. "Babe, breathe with me," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours.

Breathe: an impossible verb when your mind screams in unison.

> "You're going to be alone."

"There are thousands of girls out there who don't cause any problems."

"A smile backstage will be enough, and they'll replace you."

The images flash by quickly, cruelly: him laughing with a groupie at the foot of the stage, him signing vinyl records with scribbled phone numbers, him saying "she was too much drama" before fucking another girl.

A sob breaks in your chest and you shrink back, hands trembling against the sweater that still smells of coffee and his deodorant. Cole wraps his arms around you, but your body arches as if you want to flee even from his embrace.

"I'm scared," you manage between broken breaths. "Scared that on tour you'll realize I'm a burden... that it'll be easier to love someone who just... shouts your name from the audience and doesn't ask you for anything."

Your voice unravels and the room becomes a tunnel. Light and sound tangled together. You begin to hyperventilate; air rushes in, not enough, escapes.

Cole squeezes the back of your neck with firm tenderness, searches your eyes. "Look at me, baby. Follow my voice, here, with me."

But anxiety digs deeper: ringing in your ears, cold sweat, tingling in your fingers. Shortness of breath isn't physical, it's the idea of being left without it.

"I'm not going to leave you for anyone," he states, without trembling, each word heavy as an anchor. "There isn't a single person backstage who knows how heavy my head is at three in the morning. There isn't a groupie, a fan, or an executive who understands how you hold me up when everything falls apart."

Your hands reach for his shirt, they cling, yet the trembling doesn't subside. "They're going to say you're better off without me," you gasp. "That you could take on the world... if you didn't carry my crisis."

Cole places your palm on his chest, right over his pounding heart. “This sound here beats for you,” he declares without pausing. “When I play live, I play for thousands, yes… but I rehearse every chord thinking you’re waiting for me behind the curtain. You’re not a burden; you’re the reason I can handle the pressure.”

Tears blur your vision; you blink, seeing only the blurry outline of his mouth moving, repeating your name like a mantra. Even so, your breathing falters again. A stifled moan escapes you, a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

Cole gently drags you to the floor, back against the wall, lets you rest your forehead on his collarbone. He begins to count: one, two, three, four, marking each number with a brush of his thumb over your wrist. You find his pulse there, try to match it with yours, but yours is moving at a different speed.

"Don't leave me alone," you whisper, almost voiceless.

"Not now, not later," he promises, and you feel it vibrate against your lips as he adds, "I'm going to prove it to you every day of this tour, even if I spend the whole thing with a giant hole where you should be."

The crying turns into a long, exhausting tremor, until number four becomes the first you manage to inhale without pain. Your nails loosen the fabric of his shirt; your head continues to rain thoughts, but the storm no longer thunders as loudly.

Cole hasn't moved. And neither have you. You're both on the floor, your backs against the wall, as if you were part of it.

As if getting up meant facing a reality you're not ready to face head-on. He has you wrapped in his arms, his breathing now more steady, yours trying to imitate the cadence of his chest. Your head remains buried in his collarbone, the scent of his skin soaked with tears.

And when you thought there was nothing more to say... he spoke. "I'm scared too."

His voice wasn't low. It was firm. Not like someone confessing something that breaks them, but like someone accepting a truth they've been carrying for too long.

"Afraid of what?" you whispered, even though you knew the answer. You needed it out loud.

"Of leaving," he said, closing his eyes as he stroked your arm with trembling fingers. "Of leaving you here. Of something happening to you and I'm not there. Of you sinking again... and this time you can't get out. Of not knowing if you're eating, if you've slept, if you've cried without me being able to hold you."

His words sank in slowly. As if they were opening you without violence, but just as deeply.

"So why are you leaving?" you whispered, almost childishly. Not from a place of complaint. From fear. From that emotional corner where a question is just a way of pleading. Cole swallowed. It took him seconds to answer, and each one hurt.

"Because I have no choice." He didn't say it with anger. He said it with resignation. With that kind of tiredness that weighs more than the body.

"If I could let go of all this and stay with you for the next two months, I would. But it's not just me. There are contracts. There are fines. There are committed dates. I'm not the head of Wallows. I'm a part of it. And that part has to be there... even if I want to be with you."

You didn't know whether to cry more or break something. You didn't know whether to tell him you understood or ask him to stay the same.

"I don't like this kind of love," you admitted, your eyes puffy. "This kind of love that's always lived halfway. That depends on tours, schedules, visas, stamps, and hotels instead of clean sheets and slow breakfasts."

Cole leaned closer, as if he could wrap himself around you completely. "I don't love it either. But I love what you and I are more... than what I hate about this."

You fell silent. For the first time, it didn't hurt. It just weighed.

"What if I can't do it alone, love?" you asked, no longer tearful, only with a voice like paper.

"Then you're going to tell me. And I'm going to let the world stop for a fucking time to hold you."

Silence again. He kissed your temple. You closed your eyes. And you both knew that even though you couldn't change what was coming... you could promise to grieve together. Cole is still there. Clinging to you like he's part of your skin, like If his body could heal the cracks anxiety left open.

And you don't speak. You only hear him breathe, and that's the only thing that still makes sense.

"We have one more week," he says, and his voice crashes into your chest with a strange echo. As if he's narrating a countdown, as if each day were a broken leaf blowing away in the wind.

"Seven days with you," he whispers more quietly, his forehead against your hair. "And I'm going to make them count as months." Your heart tightens. But he continues.

"Dylan won't be able to take Isabella either," he murmurs, slowly stroking your arm. "Atlantic also had his problems. And she... she said she'll come see you. That if you get sick, she'll keep you company. She says she doesn't mind if she has to sleep here on the couch so she doesn't leave you alone."

The lump in your throat grows, but you don't dare break it. Cole squeezes you tighter.

"I asked your doctor if she could get you an extra bottle of your meds," he adds, kissing your wet cheek. "In case the attacks come back. In case you need it. I don't want you to go without anything while I'm gone."

You just nod. Barely. As if every movement costs twice as much. And then you feel him tremble. Barely. But it's there. His fear too.

"If you get really sick..." he says, with a pause in the middle that tastes like a bitter pill to swallow. "I'll go back. It doesn't matter if we're in Chicago or England. If you fall, I'll drop everything. I swear. There's no song, no city, no stage that weighs more than you."

Your chest vibrates. It contracts. You don't know if it's pain or relief. Maybe both.

"And if you don't tell me anything... I'll still notice. I know your voice better than I know my own songs. I'll listen to you in a 5-second audio and know if you're faking it."

A long sigh. Both of us. There's no room for more sadness. Only a trembling love that clings on, never letting go. And there, as if the universe knew it, Cole whispers to you what will break you completely.

The phrase you'll keep written on every part of you that hurts in August.

"It's just for a while…"

You stay still. Frozen. Because that phrase is a beautiful lie. Because you don't know if it will only be a “while.” Because sometimes “a while” becomes “forever.”

But in that moment, with his voice buried in your neck and his fingers brushing your wrist as if he were still counting your pulse…

You believe him. Even if it hurts. Even if it breaks you. Even if it's just for a while.

#wallows imagine #wallows fanfic #wallows #cole preston imagine #cole preston x reader #cole preston

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