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mooningningg · 2 days ago

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Extra Credit - Megumi F. (2)

about. you're flunking all your subjects. He’s a virgin. So you strike a deal—he tutors you academically to win a girl he has a crush on, and you tutor him in sex, simple.

parts. chapter 01, chapter 03

pairings. nerd!megumi x popular girl!reader

words. 16.04k (long ahh)

content. virgin!megumi + experienced!reader, Explicit sexual content – dry humping, making out, handjob, semi-public tension, teasing, dirty talk, reader guiding Megumi through his first sexual experience. Power dynamics. Smug, experienced reader. Slight humiliation kink if you squint. Megumi is flushed and wrecked and learning. This is a part of an ongoing tutoring-for-sexual-experience fic. Reader is not kind. She is hot and she knows it. ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP I DON'T WANT NO SMOKE OR SOMEONE BEING A HATER IN MY COMMENTS.

notes. we're heating up yalllll!!! and please give me feedback, i need to know what you think...

The hallway was nearly dead. Final bell rung, students scattered like roaches, and the only sounds left were the squeaks of custodians’ shoes on waxed tile. You checked over your shoulder before stepping around the corner—god forbid anyone saw you doing what you were about to do. Megumi was at his locker. Alone. Perfect. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, tapping the toe of your heel on the linoleum like it owed you money.

“So what time are we gonna start?” you asked. Megumi barely looked at you, sliding a textbook into the pit of his backpack like he’d been expecting this exact confrontation. “Tomorrow after lunch sounds good,” he muttered, shutting his locker.

You opened your mouth to agree—until he added, “Except Fridays. I’m not free Fridays.”

“Why not?” you asked, tilting your head. That made him stop. His hand tensed a little at the strap of his bag, and his jaw tightened.

“I said I’m not free,” he replied, curt and bitter. No explanation. No eye contact. Like the subject was shut down, dead, buried six feet under.

You blinked. “Okay... geez.”

There was an awkward silence before you straightened up. “Where?” Megumi finally looked at you.

Expression flat. “The library?” he offered—except he didn’t offer so much as mock your own question back at you in that deadpan way that made you want to strangle him.

You rolled your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a concussion. “No. Obviously not. Everyone’s at the library. You think I’m gonna sit there and let people see me get tutored? Fuck no.”

He tilted his head at you, slowly. “You asked me three times to tutor you,” he said, unimpressed, “and now you don’t want to be seen with me?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like that.” Except... it kind of was. You scratched at your nail polish. “I just... don’t want people knowing I need tutoring. That’s all.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. You just left out the part where the worst thing imaginable would be the entire school finding out that you—the hot, put-together, braincell-deprived queen of hallway dominance—were being saved academically by none other than Megumi Fushiguro. The social suicide would be irreversible.

Megumi studied your face, and for a split second—tiny, barely-there—his expression softened. Then it disappeared. He sighed through his nose. “Your place?”

You nearly gagged. “No way in hell.” He raised a brow. “Then my place.” You hesitated. “...Will anyone be there?”

“My dad’s never home.” A pause, you weighed it, it was private. No foot traffic. No one you’d run into.

Fine.

“Okay. After school.”

“Fine,” he echoed, slinging his bag onto one shoulder.

“DM me the address.”

“DM you?” he asked, like the phrase itself was in a different language.

You blinked. “Yeah. On Instagram?”

“I don’t use Instagram.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the fuck are you made of?”

“I don’t need social media,” he replied, monotone, already turning away.

“Okay what about Snapchat?”

“No.”

“Tiktok?” He blinked at you like you just asked him if he sacrificed animals.

“Twitter?”

“No.”

“BeReal?”

“What even is that?”

You groaned dramatically and yanked a pen and notebook from your bag. “Oh my god, just write it down like we’re in the 1800s.” He took the pen and jotted something quick and sharp. You snatched the paper back and stared.

A home address. Somewhere in a quiet residential stretch near the edge of Tokyo. You didn’t recognize the neighborhood, but it didn’t seem too far. “5PM,” he said as he adjusted his glasses.

You looked up. “Don’t be late,” he added, voice flat. “Or I’m not answering the door.” And before you could reply, Megumi was already walking off, hoodie pulled over his head like he hadn’t just completely dictated your entire life schedule without blinking.

You stood there in the hallway, staring at the little piece of paper in your hand. Megumi Fushiguro’s house.

What the fuck were you getting yourself into?

You hated when the day dragged like this.

That sticky, post-class limbo where everyone slowly trickled toward freedom, chattering, laughing, slamming lockers, making plans. You walked through it all like you were underwater, like every sound passed through cotton. Your heels clicked against the tile, echoing faintly behind you as you made your way toward the parking lot.

Your mind wasn’t quiet. Not even close. No plan. No clarity. No relief.

Just the endless cycle of circling grades, your future slipping out of your manicured hands, and the ghosts of things you didn’t want to admit still mattered. Like him.

Noritoshi fucking Kamo.

You hadn’t seen him in days. Not really. Glances in hallways didn’t count. The silence since the breakup had felt like both punishment and relief. And yet— There he was.

Across the parking lot, heading toward his car. One hand holding his keys, his expression unreadable in that impossibly calm, infuriatingly composed way. The soft amber sun carved highlights in his hair, golden against his blazer, his steps easy. You didn’t know why your feet moved. Didn’t know why your voice rose above the wind.

“Noritoshi!” He stopped. Turned.

You instantly regretted it. And yet… you were already walking toward him. Too fast. Too desperate. He looked surprised at first, taken aback that you—of all people—were approaching him now. But then his expression softened. Slightly. That dangerous softness, the one that had always undone you.

“Can we talk?” you asked, crossing your arms in a pathetic attempt to look casual. You hated how breathless you sounded. A long pause.

He nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

You stood there, face tilted up to him, the silence stretching like a blade between you. “I know we ended…roughly,” you said. You could still hear the screaming, the slamming door, the way his words punched into your ribs like fists.

Noritoshi didn’t say anything. Just watched. “But I… I miss you.”

The words came too fast. Too raw. You hated how small they made you sound. How you felt like you were trying to hold water in your hands, and it was slipping through every finger. He blinked once. His jaw twitched. “We can’t keep doing this, Y/N.”

Something in your chest cracked. “We’re not doing anything,” you replied quickly. “We’re—we’re just talking.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Not angry. Not cruel. Just distant. Cautious. “This isn’t just talking and you know it.” You swallowed. “So what, you just pretend I don’t exist now?”

“I’m not pretending.” Your breath hitched. Your voice sharpened.

“No. No, you don’t get to just disappear from my life like I was some… phase. You knew everything about me. Every dark, fucked-up part I hide from everyone else—you knew it. You held it. You used it.” Noritoshi flinched at that, just barely.

“Don't do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t rewrite what we had.”

“I’m not!” you snapped, tears threatening behind your lash extensions. “I’m telling you that you knew me better than anyone ever has and now you’re acting like none of it matters. That I don’t matter.” You were spiraling now, grasping at anything to slow your own descent.

“This is just… this is just another fight, right?” you whispered. “It’s just a thing we’re doing again. We’ll be okay. We always come back. Right?”

“Y/N—” You stepped forward, voice barely stable. “Please, Toshi.”

You hadn’t said his name like that since before the last fight. The worst one. The one that ended it. His expression shattered—just a little. You could see the conflict, the guilt, the damn ache in his eyes. But his feet didn’t move.

“You know I’ll always care about you,” he said, quietly, slowly. “But we weren’t good for each other. Not in the end.”

“That’s bullshit,” you hissed. “You think I didn’t try? You think I didn’t bend until I broke just to keep us okay?”

“I know you did. And I know I didn’t always meet you halfway. But we’re toxic. You know that. You just don’t want to admit it.” You blinked. He wasn’t yelling, He didn’t need to. His voice was calm. Too calm. Final, and that was worse.

Because this time… he meant it. You felt yourself slipping—emotionally, physically, everything unspooling in front of him like you were standing naked and broken in public.

“I can’t do this again,” he said, a little softer now. “I won’t.”

And with that, he turned, opened his car door, and got inside. You stood there. Watching. Heart squeezed. Chest hollow. He drove off. And that was it.

You were still in the parking lot. Wind pushing your skirt. The sun dipping lower behind the trees. And you were just standing there like an idiot. No. Like a girl who loved someone who never really came back the way she needed him to. This time… this time, he really was gone, and for once, you didn’t chase. You just stood there and let yourself feel it.

Every. Last. Second. Of it.

You were five minutes late.

Exactly five.

And yet, despite all that tough talk and his passive-aggressive little warning about “not answering the door,” guess who still opened it?

That’s right. Mr. Rules-And-Rigidity himself.

Megumi Fushiguro stood at the threshold of his surprisingly clean, quiet, borderline nice house like the human equivalent of a sigh. Hoodie on. Glasses still in place. Sweatpants slung low and baggy on his hips—and okay, not to be dramatic or anything, but they definitely had one or two stains that looked like they’d been there since 2017.

Still, you were more concerned with the house. Not that you were gonna say it out loud, but…damn. It was actually kind of big. Not “my dad owns half of Shibuya” big, but “I have a stable home life and a functioning family” kind of big. Neat. Quiet. A little cold maybe, but it didn’t reek of Axe body spray or gamer chair sweat, which was already more than you could say for 90% of the male population.

He stepped aside with a small exhale that absolutely reeked of judgment.

“You’re late.”

You walked in without a word, brushing past him like you owned the place. “Door was still open.”

“So much for empty threats, huh?” you added under your breath.

His living room was muted, borderline minimalist. A coffee table sat in front of a long couch, already stacked with books, folders, and enough academic paperwork to give you a stress migraine just looking at it.

And there he was—Megumi, sitting on the couch like some moody little student council rep, flipping through pages with all the excitement of a dead fish.

“I talked to your teachers,” he said without looking at you. “Asked them what you’re missing. What you don’t turn in. What you fail at.”

You blinked. “Wait—you talked to them?”

He nodded, still focused on the paperwork.

“Like, you… went up to adults voluntarily and asked about me?”

“Yes,” he said, voice clipped, like he regretted it deeply.

You couldn’t help it—you snorted. “Kinda stalker behavior, Gumi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You dropped your bag to the floor with a thud and finally flopped beside him on the couch, ignoring the fact that you were still in your uniform skirt and he was probably sitting way too close for comfort considering what this whole arrangement actually was.

“So,” you drawled, tugging your socks up lazily. “What’d they say?”

He turned a page. Didn’t even glance your way.

“Not good things. That’s for sure.”

You scoffed. “Wow. You got anyone in your life who actually says nice things about me?”

“Do you?” he deadpanned.

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

He finally looked at you, eyes narrowed behind those damn glasses.

“You’re not very self-aware, huh?”

“Oh my god,” you snapped. “You’re, like, so annoying. You do realize I could’ve picked anyone else to tutor me, right?”

“But you didn’t,” he said simply, flipping another page. The audacity.

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing dramatically as you shifted to the side of the couch. “This is abuse. Academic abuse. I’m being mentally tormented.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Maybe then you’ll learn something.”

You gave him your best glare. He didn’t flinch. Not even a little.

And then, like he was done indulging your tantrum, he picked up the textbook with a sharp clap and flipped it open like it weighed five tons.

“Today,” he said, “we’re starting with Physics.”

You blinked. “Why the fuck would we do that?”

“Because,” he said calmly, “you’re very, very bad at it.”

You groaned. Audibly. Dramatically. Full-body exorcism style. “Ugh. I already hate this. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I should’ve just begged the board for extra credit or bribed Gojo or something—”

“Shut up and open your notebook.”

“This is going to be hell, I swear to god.”

Megumi didn’t respond. He just handed you a pencil like he was preparing to babysit a toddler. And you?

You took it—reluctantly, bitterly, and with the elegance of a girl who would rather be literally anywhere else. Because this was the beginning, Of schoolwork. Of tutoring. Of whatever this cursed partnership was becoming.

And for the record? You were already planning your escape, or at least, your next move. Because tutoring was only half the deal. And soon enough? He was gonna learn that the other half had way more interesting lessons.

An hour of mental agony.

An hour of squinting at numbers, scribbling down equations you didn’t understand, and pretending to care about some dude named Newton.

You slammed your pencil down like it had personally offended you and flopped sideways with a dramatic groan.

“I’m done,” you mumbled, shoving the practice sheet toward Megumi like it burned.

He didn’t answer. Just took it, adjusted his glasses, and started reading in dead silence. Pencil in hand. Methodical, boring little ticks as he checked things off—or didn’t.

You watched him while you waited.

He was close. Closer than usual.

His hoodie had slipped slightly, revealing his forearms. You stared at the small flex of muscle when he wrote, the subtle dip of his throat when he swallowed, the way his glasses sat low enough on his nose to give you the perfect view of his lashes.

Had his skin always looked that soft?

His hair was still a mess, sticking up at weird angles from earlier, and yet—you could see it. The potential. If he just let someone style it. If he wore literally anything but hoodie-and-sweats-on-laundry-day.

He had… a face. An actually nice one. And then he turned to you, eyes unreadable, and held the paper out.

A three. A fucking three out of twenty. You grabbed the paper. Stared at it like it personally insulted your bloodline.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I mean, you got three right,” he said calmly.

You looked at him, scandalized. “You’re supposed to be good at this! Why the hell do I suck so bad if you’re my tutor?”

“You weren’t going to magically get it in one hour,” Megumi replied. “And it’s not my fault you didn’t pay attention the past three months.”

“I am paying attention now!”

“Are you?”

“Yes! Kind of! This is supposed to help me.”

“It is helping you. I’m honestly shocked you got any right at all.”

“Oh, haur haur. I’m laughing so hard right now, Gumi.”

He looked at you like you were deranged. You groaned and flopped back again. “I think that’s enough for today.” You stood, stretching, and turned to look down at him. He was still sitting on the couch, arms crossed, textbook on his lap.

He stared up at you, one brow arched. “What are you doing?”

“My part,” you said with a smirk. “It’s my turn… to tutor you.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Right.” You plopped back down on the couch, this time with intention. You turned your full body toward him, crossing one leg over the other as you stared, eyes sharp and studying.

“Okay. Topic of the day: Kissing.” Megumi blinked once.

You didn’t wait. “It’s more important than you think. Seriously, you could look like a goddamn Greek statue, but if you’re a bad kisser? You’re done. Over. Dead in the water.”

“…Okay.”

You continued, all hand gestures and head tilts like you were giving a TED Talk. “It’s about pressure. Pacing. Not too much tongue, not too little. Your lips gotta feel intentional. Like you know what you’re doing, but not like you’re trying too hard. And when you’re kissing someone? Your hands matter.”

Megumi looked… oddly focused. He was listening, genuinely, nodding slowly like he was absorbing everything.

“Girls remember that shit,” you said. “A good kiss stays with you. A bad one? Unforgivable.”

You leaned back slightly, tilting your head. “So. Have you ever kissed a girl before?”

Silence. He didn’t answer right away, then, quietly, “…I mean. When I was eight—”

“That doesn’t count.”

You cut him off with a laugh and a sharp look. “No way. Actual kissing, Gumi. You’re seriously telling me you’ve never kissed anyone?” He looked away, flushed faintly pink at the ears.

You blinked once. No fucking way. That actually explains so much. You smiled to yourself, eyes narrowing. He didn’t even know what was about to hit him.

Megumi blinked, and then—God help you—he started defending himself.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s a big deal,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “It’s not like I’ve never thought about it or anything. It’s just—like—why would I practice kissing? It’s not like you can just study that, and it’s not exactly something you can wing, and it’s not like I ever—”

You rolled your eyes so hard your soul almost left your body. “Jesus Christ.”

And before he could spiral into another long-winded monologue about why he’s never kissed someone, you grabbed his face with both hands—firm, smushed his cheeks between your palms, and pressed a fast, slightly messy peck to his lips.

Megumi froze. Like entire body stiff, full system-shutdown level frozen.

You pulled back casually, dropping your hands with a shrug. “You weren’t gonna shut up, emo boy.”

He stared at you like you’d just committed a federal crime. “What the fuck?”

You smirked. “Oh relax. That was just a preview. Call it a jumpstart.”

“That was my first kiss.”

You blinked. “Wait—that counts?”

He looked at you like you’d stepped on a puppy. “Well,” you said, tilting your head. “You’re lucky it was with me, then.”

Megumi exhaled, sharply. Like he wasn’t sure if he was angry, confused, or about to combust. “And anyway,” you added, already getting comfortable again, “that wasn’t even a kiss-kiss. That was baby shit. If you want to actually learn, you gotta stop being a pussy.”

Megumi scoffed. “I’m not—”

“You are.” You leaned in slightly. “But that’s okay. I’ll fix you.”

He opened his mouth to argue again, but you waved a hand to cut him off. “Don’t make this weird. I’m literally helping you.”

“You kissed me.”

“And you’re welcome.” More silence. More glowering. He looked so serious, it was borderline pathetic.

You exhaled, soft and sure, then rested a hand on his knee. “Okay. Now, for real.” His breath hitched slightly.

“You’re not going to get it on the first try, and that’s fine. Just… relax. Let me lead.” You turned to face him completely. His knee brushed yours. His arms dropped to his sides. He looked nervous. But—intrigued. Definitely intrigued. You leaned in slow, just enough to give him time to process. And when your lips met his this time, it was softer. Slower. You didn’t push, didn’t smother—you let it melt.

Megumi’s lips were surprisingly soft.

A little stiff at first—unsure. But he moved with you. Carefully. Cautiously. And then a little more confidently when your hand slid to his jaw, thumb grazing the edge of his cheekbone, he smelled good—like clean laundry and mint gum. His breath fanned over your skin when you broke for air just slightly, and it was warm, intoxicating.

You kissed him again. Deeper. Pressing in. Tilting your head just enough to change the angle and whisper against his lips, “Good… just like that…”

He swallowed, and moved with you again. No tongue. Not yet.

But his lips stayed on yours, hesitant but obedient. And for someone who hadn’t done this before—he was catching on way too fast. When you finally pulled back, he was dazed. Eyes half-lidded. Lips a little pinker than before.

You smirked. “You’re not completely hopeless.”

“…Thanks?”

“Don’t sound too grateful, Gumi.” He blinked, still processing.

The air between you and Megumi thickens, and you can almost feel the discomfort radiating off him. His body’s so rigid—like he’s trying to hold onto whatever scrap of control he’s got left.

You have no intention of letting him keep it.

You lean in close, just enough to make his breath hitch, just enough to see the way his lips part when you make the slightest move.

“You know,” you start, voice low, a playful lilt hanging off every word, “if you’re gonna impress Miwa, you have to do more than just look cute and smile awkwardly. She wants a guy who knows what he’s doing.”

Megumi's hands twitch at his sides. He doesn't speak. Doesn’t even make eye contact. Too busy pretending his heart isn’t racing. Too busy trying to look composed, but failing miserably.

“Girls like me? We love a guy who knows how to use his mouth,” you continue, grinning as his eyes flicker towards your lips for half a second. “You wanna know how to kiss with tongue, don’t you?”

His throat bobs as he swallows, voice tight when he speaks. “I—I mean, I guess?”

“Oh, you guess?” You chuckle darkly. “Let me be clear: Miwa won’t even look at you if your kissing is weak. You know how to use it, Gumi?”

He bites his lip, and for a second you can’t help but notice how charming that slight vulnerability is. You could tease him for it forever, but instead, you press on.

“No?” You ask with an exaggerated pout. “I guess I’m just gonna have to teach you then, huh?”

You shift closer, your knee brushing his, and his body goes stiff again. But you’re too close now, and there’s no way he can pull back without making things worse.

You catch his eye again. “I’m serious about this. You need to feel it. The tongue is everything.”

Megumi’s breathing hitches, and the tension is suffocating now.

You smirk and slide a hand to his jaw, tilting his face toward you. The soft heat of his skin is so close—so close—that you feel it in your core. Slowly, carefully, you press your lips to his once more, testing. It’s light this time. Just enough to see if he’ll melt under your touch, if he’ll respond to you.

And oh, does he.

His lips part with hesitation, but he follows your lead, moving just enough to match the rhythm. It’s still clumsy, but you feel the difference. The awkwardness isn’t there anymore. There’s something deeper in this kiss.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze.

“You’re getting better,” you murmur. “Now, let me show you how to do it right.”

His eyes widen, his breath shaky, but he nods, giving you all the permission you need.

With one smooth motion, you guide his hand to your waist, settling it on your side as you shift even closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of his chest against yours. He’s still unsure, but his hand remains firm on your waist, a silent sign that he’s trying. You guide him to press in a little more, lips brushing against his once again, this time deeper.

You slide your tongue along his lips, just enough to tease him. He hesitates, unsure, but when you kiss him again, you nudge him. He opens up for you—just a little—his tongue brushing lightly against yours.

You groan inwardly. He’s actually not bad. He’s still shy, still holding back, but the potential is there. The way his body moves with yours now—fuck, he’s catching on quicker than you thought.

“Good,” you murmur against his lips, guiding his hand around your waist to pull you in closer. “That’s it, Gumi.”

You move your tongue deeper, sliding it against his with more confidence, the kiss deepening as you coax him to follow. His hands twitch again, unsure, but you guide them, running them up your sides, showing him how to touch, how to pull you closer. The tension crackles between you, and you feel the faintest brush of his body against yours, his muscles tense, then relaxing as you show him exactly how to kiss.

You pull back slightly to catch your breath, your lips still hovering above his. He’s panting lightly now, eyes heavy-lidded and flushed from more than just the kiss. His breath brushes your skin in soft, uneven pants, and you catch the faintest glimpse of how his body reacts to the closeness—how it wants more.

"See?” you whisper, voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s how it’s done. Not so hard, is it?”

Megumi’s hands are still on you, but now there’s more confidence behind his touch. He’s following your lead—hesitant, yes, but growing.

“You’re… better than I thought,” he admits, his voice low and a little rougher than usual.

You smirk, sliding your hands to his chest. “Keep going, Gumi. You’ve got this.”

His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer, and you let him. You know where this is headed. And with how hot he’s looking right now, there’s no way you’ll stop this kiss from turning into something way more intense.

He leans in again, this time with more urgency, pulling you closer, as his lips crash back to yours. This time, he’s the one that guides you. You can feel it: his confidence is building with each slow, deliberate kiss.

And damn, you're loving every second of it.

The coffee shop was buzzing with its usual mid-afternoon energy, the chatter of students and the smell of burnt espresso filling the air. You sat across from Nobara, stirring your drink absentmindedly, trying to avoid meeting her eyes.

“So,” Nobara started, a smirk tugging at her lips. “How’d it go with Mister ‘I’ll Break Your Heart’?”

You let out a sharp sigh, leaning back in your seat. “I ran into him... in the parking lot.”

Nobara raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. She set her cup down and leaned in. “You ran into him?” she repeated, her tone dry. “I’m guessing it wasn’t just a ‘Hey, good to see you’ kind of thing.”

“No. It wasn’t. I... I don’t even know what I was thinking,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I saw him walking to his car, and before I knew it, I was already calling out to him. It’s like he still... has this effect on me, you know?”

Nobara gave you a deadpan stare. “Are you serious right now?”

“I... I don’t know,” you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “I miss him, Nobara. It’s like... every time I think I’m done, he comes back and I let him in. I let him hurt me again. And I don't know why I keep doing it.”

Nobara’s expression softened slightly. She looked at you like she wanted to say something comforting, but her tough side always came out. "You know you're not the only one who’s had their heart fucked up by someone, right? But damn, girl, you’ve gotta stop playing with fire. That guy—he—isn't good for you."

You stared at the table, biting your lip. “I tried talking to him. I... told him I missed him.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nobara shot back, her voice sharp. “Why are you chasing him, huh? Why are you begging for someone who doesn’t deserve you? You’re fucking amazing, Y/N. You’re that bitch. You don’t need that shit.”

You blinked, her words hitting you harder than you expected. Nobara’s eyes were fierce, but there was something softer there, something real. She wasn’t just being the usual loud-mouthed, badass Nobara. She was trying to protect you.

“I don’t know,” you muttered again, running your hand through your hair. “It’s like... I can’t stop. I let him back in, and every time, he just pulls away. He says we’re not good for each other, and maybe... maybe he’s right. But I just want him.”

“Fuck that, Y/N,” she said, slamming her hand down on the table, making a few people glance over. “No one—no one—should make you feel like that. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you chase. You deserve someone who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

Her words wrapped around your heart, squeezing it tight. You tried to push back the lump in your throat, but it didn’t work.

“I’m tired of feeling this way,” you whispered. “I just want it to be okay. But... it isn’t, is it? He doesn’t want me anymore. Maybe he never did.”

Nobara gave you a look that was pure fire. “You don’t need him, Y/N. You’re strong, smart, and fucking gorgeous. And if he can’t see that? His loss.”

You chuckled softly, wiping away the tear that had threatened to fall. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

Nobara grinned, a little smugly. “Damn right I do. You don’t need some dumbass to define you. You’re Y/N, the girl who doesn’t need a man to validate her. Fuck that noise. You’re above that.”

You took a deep breath, finally lifting your eyes to meet hers. There was something in her gaze that softened, just a little bit, as if she understood. And for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you could let go of the past.

“Thanks, Nobara,” you said quietly.

“No problem, babe. Now, let’s go fuck up some more boys with that attitude of yours, huh?”

You both cracked up, the tension in your chest easing as you took another sip of your coffee. Maybe it wasn’t all lost. Maybe, just maybe, you could start to move on. And maybe, just maybe, you were going to listen to the badass bitch sitting across from you who knew what was best for you—even if you didn’t always want to hear it.

You hated history.

No, hate was too soft. You loathed it. You’d rather eat your own acrylics than sit through another second of whatever crusty-ass war Megumi was droning about, but here you were again—on his couch, legs curled under you, pencil chewing at dangerous levels of dramatic frustration.

“Who gives a shit about the Meiji Restoration?” you huffed, throwing your head back like the weight of 1868 was personally trying to kill you.

Megumi didn’t even look up from his book. “People who want to pass.”

You shot him a glare. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re the one who asked me to do this. Three times, actually,” he replied flatly, flipping the page. “So I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned.

He side-eyed you from over his glasses, calm, unreadable. “I wouldn’t have to if you actually read the material.”

“I did read it,” you said, grabbing the worksheet and waving it like a flag. “It’s just boring. Why do I care who opened up Japan’s ports or whatever? I’m not gonna write a love letter to Matthew Perry.”

“That’s not the point,” he said, tone sharper now, still annoyingly calm. “It’s about understanding cause and effect. How one shift in policy opened Japan to Western imperialism—”

You made a gagging noise and flopped back dramatically against the couch cushions. “You are literally sucking the life out of me.”

Megumi snapped the textbook closed with a sigh. “You’re not meeting me halfway. I can’t magically fix your grades if you won’t try.”

You looked at him, all stoic and unbothered and infuriatingly pretty in his usual hoodie and sweats, like he hadn’t just committed academic homicide.

“God, you’re like, so emotionally constipated.”

“I’m teaching you history. Not therapy,” he deadpanned.

You sat up, poking him in the arm with your pencil. “You don’t have to be such a robot about it.”

His gaze dropped to where your pencil touched him, then dragged back up to your eyes. “And you don’t have to act like failing is cute.”

You scoffed. “Rude.”

“Honest,” he corrected.

There was a pause. The kind that simmered just under the surface. You hated how close you were sitting again. Not that you moved. Not that either of you did.

Megumi picked the textbook back up. “We’re doing this again from the top.”

“Nooo,” you groaned, dragging the word like a dying breath.

“Yes. You don’t even know who Saigō Takamori is.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Isn’t that the guy from the Last Samurai?”

“That’s a Hollywood movie. It’s wrong.”

You blinked. “...I liked that movie.”

Megumi stared at you. “Of course you did.”

“Ugh, you’re such a buzzkill.”

“And you’re unbelievably loud for someone who knows nothing about the Tokugawa shogunate.”

You pouted, flopping again onto the cushions. “You're not even trying to make it fun.”

“It’s not supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be retained,” he replied, firm.

You stared at him. He stared right back.

The silence hung, thick and heavy. Not quite hostile. Not quite… not.

You hated this. Hated that he was kind of right. Hated that you were the one who asked for this. Hated that his hair was a little messy and his voice did that low rumble when he got serious. You hated a lot of things right now.

Mostly history.

But maybe also the way your heart picked up just a little when he leaned forward to open the book again, pages rustling like a challenge.

“Chapter six,” he said. “Pay attention this time.”

You didn’t roll your eyes this time. Not because you were cooperating, but because—goddamn it—you kind of liked arguing with him.

Even if he was a buzzkill.

One hour later, you were emotionally six feet under.

History was officially banned. Cancelled. Abolished by executive decree—your decree. Megumi had made you read aloud, like some Victorian orphan in a Dickens novel, then quizzed you like it was his life's work to make you suffer. Your neck hurt. Your brain hurt. You were one Saigō Takamori fact away from throwing yourself into traffic.

You let your pencil drop to the floor with a heavy clack, followed by the thud of your body as you flopped backwards on the couch, arm thrown dramatically across your face like you were dying in a Shakespeare play.

“I’m literally brain dead,” you groaned.

“No, you’re just dramatic,” Megumi muttered, still flipping through the textbook like some sleep-deprived college TA. “You lasted fifty-six minutes without screaming this time. That’s a new record.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He raised a brow. “Charming.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, groaning louder when you saw he’d moved on to the next chapter. “Are you seriously trying to get to chapter seven?”

“We didn’t even finish six,” he said flatly.

“Well maybe you should try teaching in a bra and thong next time. See if that helps me retain it better.”

He blinked at you over the top of his glasses. “Do you think I’m enjoying this?”

“Obviously. You’re the only weirdo on Earth who gets off on tax reform and isolationist policies.”

“I don’t get off on—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing a frontal lobotomy couldn’t fix,” you mumbled, still sprawled out like a corpse. “Ugh. I’m so done. I’m drained. I’m dying. Do you want me to actually pass or be found unresponsive with highlighter stains on my corpse?”

“Dramatic and ungrateful,” he sighed.

You sat up slowly, eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky you’re kinda cute or I’d have bailed day one.”

Megumi paused mid-page turn. “Wait. What?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He adjusted his glasses slightly, then looked at you—less irritated, more… thoughtful.

“I just realized something,” he said slowly.

You stared. “Uh-oh. That’s never good.”

He turned slightly toward you on the couch, one hand resting on the cushion between you. “It’s your part of the tutoring now.”

You blinked again. Brain lagging. “My what?”

“Your half of the deal,” he said, matter-of-fact. “I tutor you. You… do that.”

You stared.

Then sat upright like you’d just been hit with a water balloon of horny confusion. “Wait, that was today?”

He blinked at your sudden jolt of energy. “You literally said it’d be after every session—”

“Oh, shit, I did, didn’t I?”

He blinked again. “Did you forget?”

“No! I just—well—maybe.” You waved a hand. “You can’t expect me to remember anything after being violated by Japanese imperialism facts for an hour.”

Megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So… what exactly are you teaching me today?”

You paused.

Brain stalling.

Because yeah—what was next? You’d kissed him already, well made out with him.

And now he was looking at you like he expected something.

“Uhhh,” you drawled, glancing at his sweatpants.

No, you decided. It was too soon to go down on him. You were hot, not insane. You didn’t suck dick for boys who corrected your historical analysis mid-sentence.

But you could—

You grinned.

“Have you ever heard of dry humping?” you asked sweetly.

Megumi looked like you’d just offered to kill his dog.

“…Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you said, crossing your legs and leaning toward him like a corrupt school counselor. “It’s basically PG-13 sex with clothes on. Grinding, kissing, moaning—stroke game training, Gumi. Very important.”

He just stared at you, absolutely scandalized.

“I’m not going to—grind—on someone just because—”

You cut him off with a dramatic scoff. “You’re such a buzzkill. I’m trying to help you. This is literally for Miwa’s benefit.”

His nose wrinkled. “How does this even help?”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, listen: girls don’t just get off from dick, okay? It’s all about rhythm. Friction. Hip movement. How you build it. You think she’s gonna get wet if you just lay there like a fucking anime boy cardboard cutout?”

Megumi’s face flushed instantly. “I—I wouldn’t—!”

You smirked. “Exactly. You wouldn’t. Because I’m here teaching you. You’re welcome.”

He opened his mouth to argue, probably to say something logical or stupidly moral like this isn’t necessary or I don’t need to learn this like a test—

So you shut him up the only way you knew how. You swung one leg over and straddled his lap.

Megumi’s whole body locked up. “Wha—wait—”

“Relax.” You tugged at his hoodie strings, voice syrupy and dangerous. “It’s just dry humping, not a blood pact.”

His hands hovered mid-air like he had no idea where to put them. You could feel the panic radiating off of him. And underneath you? You could already feel how hard he was getting.

Oh, he was so fucked.

“You ready, Gumi?” you whispered.

His throat bobbed. “I—I think so.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “You think?”

He looked up at you with wide, hesitant eyes—flushed already, poor thing—and you felt that little rush again, the one that always hit right before you did something reckless.

And fuck.

You hadn’t even moved yet—hadn’t grinded, hadn’t kissed him—and already, you could feel it. The heat. The shape. The size. Your lips parted, just a little. Your body adjusted automatically. And there it was again.

Jesus Christ.

He was hard already. And not just hard—big. Like, shockingly big. Stupidly big. Bigger than you’d expected from the quiet, history-obsessed boy who couldn’t even say the word "porn" without blinking too fast. You kept your expression neutral—barely—but inside?

Oh my fucking God.

You forced yourself to breathe, forced your voice to stay cool. “Okay,” you murmured, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie. “Step one. Kissing. You’re not gonna be hot if you kiss like a sixth grader.”

“I don’t—”

“You talk too much.” You cut him off with your mouth.

Your lips pressed to his, slow and deep. No peck this time. No trial. You kissed him—like he already belonged to you. Your mouth moved with purpose, teasing his, coaxing it open. And when his hands twitched at your sides, you reached down, slid them firmly onto your hips.

You grinded forward. Barely. And Megumi whimpered. The sound punched heat straight between your legs. He kissed back, breath hitching, hands holding on like he didn’t know what else to do. You bit his bottom lip, tugged, then soothed it with your tongue, just to feel him shudder beneath you.

You pulled back, breath brushing his lips. “You’re allowed to use your tongue, you know.”

He blinked at you. “I—really?”

You smirked. “Gumi. That’s the whole point.” This time, he leaned in first. His mouth met yours, warmer now, hungrier. It wasn’t perfect—still a little too careful—but his tongue brushed yours and God he tasted like spearmint gum and nervous energy. You rolled your hips, slow and deliberate, and his hands clenched on your waist, pulling you closer with a quiet desperation he probably didn’t even notice.

You shifted against him again, dragging your heat along the ridge of his cock, and fuck—there it was again.

So big.

You weren’t going to say it. Wouldn’t dare—his ego didn’t need it, and it’d just make things messy. But holy shit, the idea of how clueless he probably was about what he was working with made your head spin.

You pressed your forehead to his, voice low, teasing. “Just like that, Gumi…”

He groaned, pulling your hips down more firmly, grinding up into you once, twice— “Like this?” he asked, voice raw, a little too innocent.

Your breath caught. His cock slid against you again, thick and perfectly placed through the layers, and it made your clit throb.

“F-fuck—yes,” you gasped before you could catch yourself.

He did it again. A little deeper this time. His mouth landed on your neck, clumsy but warm, and your body arched forward into him, chasing the friction. His hips jerked once more. A little stuttered. A little too hard.

Then he froze. Like really froze. “…Megumi?”

You pulled back. He wasn’t breathing. Then— “…Shit,” he whispered, face going red. “Shit. I—I didn’t mean to—”

You blinked. “Wait. Did you—?”

His hands flew off your waist like you were made of lava. “It just—it happened—I didn’t think—I wasn’t going to—”

You stared. Then burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” you wheezed, clutching your chest. “Did you just cum in your pants?”

He looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot. “I didn’t—mean to! I’ve never—I didn’t even know that could—”

You were still cackling. “Oh my God, you really did. You just—boom. Pants. Game over.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Get off me and stop laughing.”

“I can’t! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I said stop—”

“Wait,” you cut him off, suddenly narrowing your eyes. “Megumi. Have you ever even jerked off?”

He looked personally offended. “I don’t even have time for that!”

You gawked. “You’ve never masturbated?”

“I’m busy!”

“Oh my God. You’ve never even watched porn, have you?” He looked away, face going bright red.

“I—I don’t need that kind of distraction,” he muttered. You stared at him.

Then bit your lip, grinning slow. “Well. That explains so much.”

He scowled. “I don’t see why it matters.”

“Because,” you said, crossing your arms and eyeing him up and down. “You’re packing, Gumi. And you’ve got no idea what to do with it.”

“I am not—” You cut him off again. “Don’t argue with me. You just dry humped me into an accidental orgasm. You need training.” He went silent.

You leaned forward slowly, conspiratorial. “…Nobara has tapes.”

Megumi’s soul visibly left his body. “What?”

You were already reaching for your phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” you said sweetly. “Homework’s over."

“I’m just saying—it wasn’t that deep.” You said it for the fourth time in ten minutes.

And Nobara? She was giving you that look. That are-you-hearing-yourself-right-now? look, standing across her room in pajama shorts and a crop top, holding a DVD case that literally had the words “Butlers in Heat 3” printed in metallic font.

“Not that deep?” she repeated, lifting a brow. “Babe. You just told me he came in his pants from dry humping.”

You flopped onto her bed like the drama queen you were. “It wasn’t that dramatic. He didn’t like—scream.”

Nobara narrowed her eyes. “Did you scream?”

You hesitated. “…Maybe.”

“Aha!” She spun in triumph. “See?! You’re into him.”

You scowled, chucking a pillow at her. “I am not. Don’t be stupid.”

She caught it with one hand, smirking. “Girl. You straddled his lap. You made out with him. You got off while teaching him how to thrust properly—”

“I was instructing him,” you snapped, sitting upright, scandalized. “That was for educational purposes.”

Nobara gave you the driest look in recorded history. “And his dick had nothing to do with it?” You crossed your arms, refusing to meet her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Maybe he’s a little… y’know.”

Nobara tilted her head. “No. I don’t know. Say it.”

You sighed like you were being waterboarded. “He’s… not small.”

“Not small?”

You grabbed the pillow and screamed into it. “He’s packing, okay?!”

Nobara snorted, cackling as she tossed another smut DVD into the pile on her floor. “Oh my God, I knew it. I knew he was hiding something under those ugly sweatpants.”

You groaned. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

“What, that you’re lusting over emo boy with a sword complex?” she teased. “Not your fault he’s secretly got a third leg.”

“Nobara.”

She flopped down beside you, dramatically flipping open a dusty book labeled Advanced Body Language for Confident Girls, Vol. 2. It had a lipstick kiss on the cover. You hated that you knew it was hers.

“Okay,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “If he’s never watched porn, never jerked off, and his only sexual contact is you grinding on him like you’re doing CPR with your coochie—then we need to build a curriculum.”

You blinked. “Curriculum?”

“This is a project now.” She pulled out a pink notebook and labeled it Gumi: The Re-Education. “Day one: Visual stimulation. We start with classics. Something soft. Relatable. Build his palate.”

“Palate?”

“His taste, bitch.”

You stared at her. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

She waved a hand. “Don’t even pretend you’re not gonna go back tomorrow and grind on him again the second he breathes near you.”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t like him like that.”

“Sure.” She gave you a pointed look. “That’s why you came over here panting like a housewife whose pool boy just moaned her name.” You threw a slipper at her. She dodged it effortlessly.

“I’m serious,” you grumbled. “I don’t like him. He’s—he’s still Megumi. You know. Broody. Quiet. Judgy. Probably would call a girl’s outfit ‘impractical’ in the middle of foreplay.”

“Yeah, and now he’s got you on his lap making out like it’s prom night,” she deadpanned. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

You looked away. “It’s just… physical. That’s it.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, he’s cute, I guess.”

“Mhm.”

“But like—not my type.”

“Oh yeah, your type is clearly ‘emotionally unstable ex who breaks things during fights.’”

“Nobara.”

She cracked open the DVD case and handed it to you. “Here. Show him this first. It’s got a solid plot, decent pacing, and a blowjob scene that changed my life sophomore year.”

You took it reluctantly, eyeing the cover. “This is so weird.”

“No,” she said seriously, “what’s weird is that your nerd boy’s walking around with a baseball bat in his pants and thinks missionary is just a church word.” You covered your face.

She patted your leg. “Don’t worry. We’ll teach him.”

You groaned into your hands. “I cannot believe I’m tutoring him in this while he’s teaching me about feudalism.”

Nobara just grinned. “Bitch,” she said. “That’s balance.”

You didn’t even knock this time.

Just barged into Megumi’s house like you owned it, arms full of very questionable materials: a pink plastic bag stuffed with romance novels, vintage DVDs, and one extremely worn-out copy of “Seducing the Shy Guy: A Visual Guide.”

Megumi looked up from the kitchen counter, a water bottle halfway to his mouth. He blinked. Once. Twice.

“What the hell is all that?”

“Supplementary materials,” you said cheerfully, kicking the door shut with your heel. “For your tutoring.”

He stared as you flopped down on the couch, books spilling out beside you like you were setting up for a smut-themed TED Talk.

“You brought porn to my house,” he said flatly.

“I brought educational erotica,” you corrected, holding up a DVD titled Pleasure Principles II. “It’s basically Sex Ed. But with better lighting and actual orgasms.”

He blinked again. “You’re insane.”

“And you are severely underexposed,” you said, tossing him a glossy book. He caught it with one hand, squinted at the cover, and immediately dropped it like it had burned him.

“That one’s good,” you offered. “Chapter six is about dirty talk. Very hands-on.”

“Why would I want to read about that?”

“Because, Gumi,” you said, as if it were obvious, “you literally didn’t know tongue was allowed until I explained it to you. You need visual aids.”

His jaw twitched.

You grabbed one of the DVDs and held it up. “Go. Take this. Watch it. It’s a softcore intro—great for virgins, emotionally repressed guys, or anyone who thinks socks during sex are normal.”

“I am not watching porn while you sit here on the couch.”

“Then go watch it in your room.”

“I’m not going to excuse myself like I’m committing a crime!”

You blinked at him. “You literally cum in, like, four hip thrusts. This is for your benefit.”

He turned red instantly. “Don’t say it like that!”

“I could’ve said it worse.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose like he was fighting demons. “You are the most aggravating person I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re welcome,” you chirped.

Megumi glared at you for a beat.

Then—completely ignoring your pile of smut—he walked over to the coffee table and dropped a worksheet in front of you.

“Here.”

You squinted. “What’s this?”

“Your actual tutoring.” He pointed to the top. “Physics. You bombed the quiz. You don’t even know what an inclined plane is.”

You recoiled like it was radioactive. “Ugh, you’re so predictable.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re the one who agreed to this.”

You stared at the worksheet. Then at him. Then at the porn DVDs. Then back at him.

“I could be teaching you how to eat a girl out right now,” you muttered.

“And I could be teaching you how to find the coefficient of friction, but here we are,” he deadpanned.

You huffed, grabbing the pencil like it had personally offended you. “This is abuse.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m gonna tell Nobara you’re bullying me.”

“Do it. I’ll show her your failing grade.” You scowled at him. He looked smug. The tension between you simmered like always.

You glanced once more at the DVD sitting beside you, then back down at the worksheet. Sighed like your life was over.

“…What the fuck is a pulley?”

You made it approximately twenty-seven minutes into that physics worksheet before your brain started leaking out of your ears.

Inclined planes. Pulleys. Some dumbass named Newton. Why the fuck did anything need to be this complicated? You didn’t care what angle a box slid down a hill. If a box wanted to fall, it could fall. You hoped it would.

You let your pencil drop onto the coffee table and slumped dramatically against the couch cushions, throwing an arm over your forehead like a dying Victorian widow. Your voice echoed in your head:

“I could be teaching you how to eat a girl out right now.”

You groaned. Loudly.

Silence answered you. Megumi had disappeared upstairs nearly an hour ago after muttering something about “needing to shower” and “getting away from your noise.” He took the DVD, too. Which meant you were stuck here, unsupervised.

Big mistake on his part. Naturally, you got up to snoop.

You weren’t gonna do anything weird. Just—wander. Browse. Maybe see what kind of nerdy little books he hid in his shelf. Possibly dig through his desk drawers if the urge got too strong. But then your attention snagged on something else entirely.

A photo frame.

Sitting on a small table near the wall. Half-tucked between stacks of books, as if he didn’t know what to do with it but couldn’t throw it away.

You stepped closer. It was a candid.

Three people, standing outside in the sun. One of them was Megumi—smaller, probably around twelve, scowling at the camera even back then. Beside him, a man—tall, dark-haired, handsome in a gruff, unshaven way, with a hand on Megumi’s shoulder and a tight, almost strained smile. But it was the girl that made you pause.

She looked older than Megumi. Maybe sixteen. Brown-haired, bright-eyed, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her arm was around his other shoulder, pulling him close despite his awkward body language.

You didn’t know Megumi had a sister. You blinked at the frame. Tilted your head. It felt… strange. He never talked about his family. Ever. And it wasn’t like you cared—except you kind of did. You were curious. You liked details. Personal things. Even if they weren’t yours.

“Hey.”

You jolted like you got caught stealing.

Megumi was at the foot of the stairs now, hair damp and falling over his forehead, shirt clinging to his chest like it was freshly thrown on. He was in a plain black tee and grey sweats—same as earlier, but somehow... different.

Because this time? You knew what he’d been doing upstairs.

Your gaze flicked over him once—quick, instinctive. His forearms looked leaner. Veins visible. His collarbones peeking where the shirt collar tugged loose. He looked—Flawless.

And of course, you said nothing. You just smiled sweetly, like you weren’t staring at a boy who definitely just jacked off to softcore porn in his room and then took a cold shower to repent.

“Hey,” you said innocently. “You never told me you had a sister.”

His body stilled. You pointed to the photo still in your hand. “She’s cute.” Megumi’s eyes dropped to the frame. For a second, something unreadable crossed his face. Then he came over, slowly, and gently took it from you. Set it back on the shelf.

“She’s not… technically my sister,” he said, voice quieter now.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. Leaned against the wall like this was a question he’d been avoiding for years. “She’s… Tsumiki. My stepsister. We’re not blood related, but—she raised me, kind of. After everything.”

“Everything?”

“My dad… wasn’t really around. She was older. Always had to pick up the pieces.” You nodded, watching him. He wasn’t looking at you—eyes fixed on the floor, jaw tense.

“Was that him in the photo?” you asked, careful now. “Your dad?”

Megumi nodded once. “Yeah. For, like, ten minutes. He wasn’t exactly the type to stick around.”

You said nothing. Not because you didn’t know what to say—just because you weren’t used to him saying anything. Especially not something this honest. “I didn’t mean to pry,” you said finally.

He glanced at you, and something in his expression softened. “You’d dig through my trash if I left you alone long enough.”

You smiled. “Only the top layer.”

His lips twitched—barely—but it was there.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s away now. Tsumiki. Boarding school. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

You nodded again. Then leaned in slightly. “She looks like she made you smile back then.”

“I didn’t know how to smile back then,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” you said lightly, stepping closer. “And now you just know how to cum in your pants from dry humping.”

He choked. You burst out laughing. “Why—” he looked away, red in the ears, “—why would you bring that up right now?”

“Because I know what you were doing up there,” you sing-songed, flopping back on the couch like a smug little gremlin. “Came back all clean and wet-haired like I wouldn’t notice.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re hot when flustered.” That shut him up. Completely. His ears went scarlet.

You bit your lip, victorious, but said nothing more. Let him marinate. Instead, you grabbed the physics worksheet and sighed like your life was ending. “Fine. I’ll finish this dumb inclined plane problem. But after that, we’re watching that blowjob scene together.”

Megumi blinked. “What?”

You looked up at him. Deadpan. “I'm kidding."

You were halfway through the worksheet—dragging your feet, doodling in the margins, completely miserable—when Megumi sat down beside you on the couch again, freshly showered, hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends. You didn’t look up, but you felt it: his body heat, the shift in the air, the way he was just looking at you.

Too quiet. Too thoughtful. You glanced over.

He wasn’t even pretending to read anymore. Just sitting there, expression unreadable, eyes lingering a little too long on your face like he was turning something over in his head.

“…What?” you asked.

He blinked once. Then said, carefully, “I don’t mean to ask, but—” Danger. “—you and Kamo…” Danger. You froze. Completely still.

The pencil stopped moving. Your jaw tightened. You didn’t turn your head, but your heart did this little involuntary lurch—like someone had just pulled up a trapdoor under you.

“…What about us?”

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly hesitant. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t think you two were over.”

You forced your voice out, flat. “We are.” Silence. Not disbelief. But not acceptance either.

“You seem pretty… locked in,” he said, after a beat. “The hallway. The looks. The kisses and stuff.” You didn’t say anything. Just kept staring at the worksheet in front of you like if you focused hard enough, it’d all go away.

“I saw it all the time,” Megumi continued, tone quieter now. “It was… kind of annoying.” Your eyes flicked up. He wasn’t looking at you now. He was looking at the table.

“…Why would it annoy you?” you asked. He didn’t answer right away. And maybe that should’ve been your first clue that this wasn’t just about Noritoshi. Not really.

Eventually, he said, “I guess I just assumed you weren’t the… real love type.” That hit you harder than you expected. Harder than it should’ve.

You blinked. Sat back slowly. Let the weight of that land. Because he was right, that was what people thought about you, wasn’t it?

Hot. Popular. Shallow. Fun. The girl who flirted because she could. Who dated because it was convenient. Who used her mouth for teasing, her body for leverage, and her feelings for nothing.

No one really expected you to fall in love.

Not for real. Not like that. And maybe you’d leaned into that. Maybe it was easier to be the girl who looked good in photos and said the right bitchy thing at the right time. Maybe you let people believe you didn’t care.

Because if you admitted you did? You’d have to admit how bad it had hurt. You swallowed.

“He didn’t love me either,” you said finally, voice low.

Megumi looked at you now. You didn’t flinch away.

“He liked the idea of me,” you continued. “The mouth. The legs. The attitude. The girl on his arm. But not the… actual stuff. Not the parts that cry at night or need too much or don’t let go when they should’ve.”

The silence was thick. And you hated how raw you sounded. How honest.

“I was a fucking mess with him,” you added, a bitter laugh under your breath. “He made me feel like I had to keep being her all the time. The version he liked. And every time I cracked, it was a fight. Or worse—he’d go quiet. Like I was a burden.”

Megumi didn’t say anything. Not at first. Just sat there, watching you unravel in real-time. And then—his voice, soft, like he was stepping on glass: “I never assumed you were a burden.”

You turned your head sharply. He didn’t look away.

“I assumed you were smart,” he said. “Annoying. Loud. Stubborn as hell. But not fake.” Your chest clenched.

“And definitely not someone who deserved to be treated like that.” You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until it left you all at once.

Megumi shifted closer. Only slightly. Like he wasn’t sure if he should. Like he was still trying to figure out where he stood with you in this strange, halfway-there space between academics and… everything else.

“Sorry,” he murmured, voice just above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

“You didn’t,” you lied.

His eyes flicked down to your hands—clenched in your lap. Tight, trembling.

“I don’t like talking about it,” you admitted. “People make assumptions. They always have.”

Megumi nodded once. “I know the feeling.”

You glanced at him. “Yeah?”

He shrugged. “People think I don’t feel anything. That I’m just this grumpy, emotionally stunted robot with too many books and a stick up my ass.”

You huffed. “Well, to be fair…”

He smirked faintly. And so did you. “…You’re not a robot,” you said. “You’re just emotionally constipated.”

“And you’re not shallow,” he said. “You’re just dramatic.”

You smiled, for real this time. Not because you were trying to impress him. But because for the first time in a while—you actually felt seen.

You didn’t mean to say it.

It just slipped out, low and tired, somewhere in the middle of that heavy, unbearable silence.

“Even then… he’s still the one who knows every part of me.”

Megumi didn’t speak.

And for once, you didn’t fill the silence with a joke. You just sat there, slouched on his couch with your legs curled under you, pencil forgotten, voice quieter than usual.

“He saw everything,” you said slowly. “Not just the pretty shit. He saw me cry. Scream. Shut down. The whole fucking mess. He saw it all.”

Megumi tilted his head, listening. Not interrupting.

“I’d get overwhelmed and just… spiral,” you continued, your voice slipping into something more bitter. “And he’d try to fix it. Bring food, text too much, get mad if I didn’t answer right away—he cared. I know he did.”

You exhaled sharply.

“But people only saw the fighting. The yelling in hallways. Him breaking things. Me walking out. Again. And again. Everyone just thought it was some dramatic high school bullshit. Toxic couple of the week.”

You let your head fall back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling like it might give you the right words.

“But no one saw the good days. No one saw the way he’d carry my bag when I was too tired. Or when he brought me soup when I got sick. Or when I didn’t say a word for a whole weekend and he just… stayed. Quiet. Right next to me. People don’t remember that part.”

You blinked hard, the back of your throat tight.

“I know it was fucked up. I know we were a mess. But sometimes… when someone sees every broken piece of you and still chooses you? Even if it’s ugly, even if it’s wrong… it’s hard to walk away from that.”

Still, Megumi said nothing, but his silence didn’t feel like judgment.

It felt like permission.

You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, voice quieter now. “Letting him go—it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I do. I keep thinking if I loved him, I’d stay. But maybe if I really loved him, I wouldn’t keep letting him hurt me.”

You let the words hang.

And Megumi finally said, very softly, “You don’t seem like the type to give up on people.”

You looked at him.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t teasing. He was just watching you, eyes serious, voice steady.

So you asked, carefully, “Why does that surprise you?”

“I guess I thought you didn’t do… real love,” he said, brows knit. “That it was all surface. Flirting. Fun. Games.”

You let out a sharp laugh—quiet and bitter. “God. Everyone thinks that.”

Megumi didn’t argue, and you didn’t blame him.

You leaned back, arms crossed over your chest, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I can’t count how many people have said that. Or implied it. That I’m just good for a fling, a kiss, a picture on their arm. But love? No. That’s too deep for me. That’s for serious girls. Quiet ones. The ones who don’t have reputations.”

You looked away, eyes on nothing.

“You act like you don’t care for long enough… people start to believe it.” There was a beat of silence.

Then Megumi spoke, quieter than ever. “I know what that’s like.”

You glanced back at him. He wasn’t looking at you now. His hands were clasped between his knees, tense.

“My sister—Tsumiki—she’s sick,” he said. “Not a flu or cold. Not something you can take pills for. It’s… long-term. Terminal.”

Your breath caught.

“She’s in a care facility,” he continued. “Three hours away. I try to go when I can, but it’s… it’s hard. I’ve watched her get worse over time. Her hair’s thinner. Her voice is weak when she even speaks at all. The doctors say it’s just about making her comfortable now.”

You sat up straighter, slowly.

“She was the strong one,” Megumi murmured, almost to himself. “She used to look after me. Cooked for me. Dragged me out of bed when I wouldn’t go to school. She was the one who held everything together. And now…”

He blinked, jaw tightening. “Now I just sit there and watch her fade. And I can’t do anything about it.”

Your chest ached.

“I don’t talk about her,” he said. “Because people always say the same shit. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘You’re so strong.’ ‘Let me know if you need anything.’ And they don’t mean it. They don’t want to deal with it. With me. So I stopped trying.”

You didn’t realize you were reaching out until your fingers brushed his hand. Just a touch. Nothing dramatic. Just… there.

“I’m not gonna say I’m sorry,” you said, voice steady. “Because I know it won’t fix anything. But I won’t pretend I don’t give a shit.”

He didn’t pull away. Didn’t say anything either. But his fingers shifted—just slightly. Brushing back.

The moment held. Not confessions. Not resolutions. Just two people sitting in the quiet, cracked open at the edges. And maybe that was enough.

The study session ends with another snide remark about how the Tokugawa period was “such a snooze-fest it probably made people die of boredom before the swords could,” and Megumi’s exasperated sigh practically shakes the room.

But then—he smiles. Barely. Just a twitch at the corner of his lips. Like he hates that you’re funny.

You’re sitting a little too close now, knees brushing his. The banter's softer lately. Less biting. Still sharp, but it feels like fencing now instead of war. Controlled. Predictable. Dangerous only if you let it be.

You stretch your arms overhead like you’re done pretending you care about anything that happened before Instagram, and tilt your head. “Can we go to your room?”

Megumi’s spine straightens like a rod jammed down his back. “Wha—my… my room?”

You blink at him. “Yes, Fushiguro. Your bedroom. The one in your house. That we’re in right now.” You roll your eyes for effect. “Don’t make it weird.”

His ears flush. Not just his cheeks—his ears. You stifle a smirk.

“…Sure.”

His bedroom is smaller than you imagined, but cleaner. Quiet. He follows you in like he’s bracing for an ambush.

You stroll in unbothered, heels clicking softly against the floor as you drag your fingertips over the edges of his desk, his bookshelf. His space feels untouched, like he’s scared to actually live in it. No posters. No photos. No Miwa.

Good.

You stop in the middle of the room and turn. He’s standing stiff near the bed, unsure, blinking at you like you’re some unpredictable lab experiment.

“Sit,” you say, folding your arms.

“Why?”

You give him a look. Just tilt your head slightly—Really?—and say, “Just sit, Gumi.”

And he does. Right at the edge of the mattress, legs spread a little, posture painfully stiff like he’s being prepped for execution.

You step between his knees. Your hand settles on his thigh, and his whole body flinches.

You smile.

“We’ve covered equations,” you say, voice soft and smooth. “Memorized dates. Recited treaties and political reforms and chemical bonds.”

He nods slowly, still frozen.

“So now we’re doing something actually useful.”

His eyes dart to yours. Wide. Confused. Like he knows what you mean, but can’t believe you’re really saying it.

You lean in, resting your weight on your hand against his leg. “Sex isn’t just penetration, Gumi. It’s not ‘stick it in and hope she makes noise.’ You have to know how to touch. How to start.”

Your fingers slide up to the button of his jeans, and you pop it open without breaking eye contact.

He chokes on a breath. “W-wait—what are you—”

“Teaching,” you murmur. “This is what a handjob is for. It’s the easiest thing in the world, but you’d be shocked how many guys fuck it up.”

You tug his zipper down slow. His chest rises, lips parting slightly like he’s already forgetting how to breathe.

“It’s about rhythm. Pressure. Confidence.” You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his boxers and pull everything down in one practiced motion. “And most of all—awareness.”

You free his cock from the confines of his pants, and fuck—yeah. You blink once. He’s thick. Heavy. Hard already. The head flushed, wet at the tip.

Soooo fucking big, your hand wraps around him slowly. He gasps. Actually gasps.

“See?” you whisper, stroking once, fingers tight but not too tight. “You’re not doing anything. But you’re feeling everything.”

His hips twitch. You stroke again, dragging your palm down his length, then curling back up—slow, fluid.

“You can’t skip this part. You skip this, she’s dry and frustrated and faking it before you even get your pants off.”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Touching is everything,” you continue. “If you don’t know how to use your hands, you don’t deserve to use your dick. Understand?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, voice barely there.

You hum approvingly, then circle your thumb over the tip, collecting the precum and slicking it down the shaft as you stroke a little faster.

“Girls want to feel wanted,” you murmur. “Like you need them. This—” you squeeze gently near the base, “—is how you show them that.”

His jaw clenches. His thighs tremble under your grip.

“You have to build it. Make it last. Make it burn. And just when they’re about to lose it—then you go harder. Then you give in.”

His head drops back, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck—” he moans. “Shit—”

“You’re close already?” you tease, pumping him faster now. “Tch. You’ve really never had this before?”

“N-never—fuck—”

“God,” you laugh, leaning in. “No wonder you’re always so tense.”

His cock twitches in your fist, leaking down your fingers. You adjust your grip—faster, tighter, more deliberate. Your wrist flicks with every stroke, rhythm perfectly brutal.

“Right under the head,” you say, letting your thumb swirl there again. “That spot? Yeah. Memorize it. That’s where her hands’ll go when she wants to break you.”

“F-fuck—” he gasps. “I—I—shit—”

“Let it go,” you breathe. “Don’t hold it in. I want to see it.”

He groans—loud, breathless. His hand flies up to your wrist, holding you there as his cock jerks violently in your grip. Cum spills over your fist, hot and messy and so much, coating your fingers as his whole body shudders through it. You don’t stop until he’s twitching, gasping, overstimulated and ruined.

Then you finally let go, slick and smug and glowing with satisfaction. You lift your hand like you’re examining it in science class.

“Hands,” you say simply. “Step one.”

He exhales shakily, head falling forward like he just got hit by a truck. You wipe your hand on his shirt without asking.

“Hey—” he protests weakly.

You grin. “You made the mess, baby. Own it.”

Your heart was still doing backflips, your breath still a little uneven—but you cleaned yourself up like nothing happened. Even touched up your gloss in the mirror, finger-combed your hair, tried to get rid of that hazy, cock-drunk look from your face.

It didn’t help. Because you’d just finished pretending you were still a functioning human being when the front gate squealed open.

A car door. Then another. Then keys.

Your spine stiffened like a corpse in rigor mortis. “Megumi.”

He was already zipping up. Calm. Too calm. Voice flat and casual, like you hadn’t just had his dick in your hand. “That’s my dad.”

“Your what—”

“I didn’t know he’d be home. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you hissed, grabbing your bag and spinning around. “I’m literally full-glam after jacking you off and he’s going to walk in and see me glowing.”

“You wiped it off.”

“That’s not the point! My mascara’s smudged and my knees are weak.”

“Try not to look guilty,” he murmured, slipping on his hoodie like this was just Tuesday.

You glared. “You’re not even panicking.”

“I don’t need to panic.” His voice stayed maddeningly steady. “You’re going to walk down. Smile. Say hi. Leave. Done.”

You were still fuming when he grabbed your wrist, you blinked down at his hand, warm. Big. Callused at the base of his fingers. You felt that same little jolt shoot straight through your chest. Electricity. From your palm to your spine.

He didn’t notice, or if he did, he ignored it completely.

He opened the bedroom door, pulled you along—quiet, calm, dead behind the eyes—and started leading you down the stairs just as the front door creaked open, and then you heard it:

“Yo, Megumi.” his voice was deep. Lazy. Like he didn’t give a fuck about anything.

You glanced up and immediately wished you hadn’t. There, standing in the entryway with keys in one hand and a takeout bag in the other, was Toji Fushiguro. Tall. Broad. Black button-down rolled to the elbows. Scar on his lip. He looked like he bench-pressed people for fun.

He looked at his son. Then at you, then back at Megumi again.

“This the girl you told me about?” he asked, cocking his head just slightly. “The one you’re tutoring?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Megumi, without missing a beat, said, “Yeah.” That was it. No awkwardness. No explanation. Just yeah. Like you weren’t standing there feeling like your soul had just evaporated.

Toji raised a brow. “She’s pretty.”

You almost choked. Megumi didn’t react. Didn’t even blink. Toji stepped inside, placed the bag on the counter, and gave you another once-over. “You always study in that outfit?”

You plastered on a brittle smile. “Only when I want the equations to submit to me.”

Toji let out a quiet laugh. “You got bite. I like that.”

You wanted to disappear into the drywall. “I was just about to leave, actually,” you said quickly. “Didn’t realize Megumi lived with someone—”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Toji interrupted.

You blinked. “I’m fine, really—”

“Sit down,” he said, not looking at you. He was unpacking the food. “We’ve got enough.”

“I really should—" Toji didn’t even lift his head. Just said, too casually:

“Unless you wanna explain to your parents why a grown man saw you sneaking out of my son’s room looking like that.” That shut you up.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You turned to Megumi. “He’s bluffing, right?”

Megumi just shrugged. “He’s not.”

You turned back to Toji, who was already pulling out plates. Like the whole thing was settled. “You’re staying,” he said. And you did.

You sat. Quietly. On the barstool next to Megumi, who—of course—looked completely unbothered. His hair was still a little messy. His glasses slightly crooked. But otherwise, you’d never know he’d just come in his pants fifteen minutes ago.

“Don’t make it weird,” Megumi murmured under his breath.

“You made it weird,” you hissed back.

Toji plopped a plate in front of you and smirked. “So. How long you been tutoring her?”

Megumi stared ahead. “A few weeks.”

You smiled stiffly. “It’s really productive.”

Toji looked amused as hell. “I bet.”

Megumi sighed. “Dad.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.” You looked at Megumi’s face—red ears, clenched jaw, one long exhale like he was already regretting everything—and had to bite the inside of your cheek not to laugh.

God, you thought. Maybe this was the real lesson. Not the history. Not the chemistry, but this, damage control. Dignity salvage. Post-nut performance.

And Megumi? Megumi was aces at it.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

You sat at the small kitchen table with your legs crossed, trying to appear composed while your brain was still tap-dancing in trauma heels. The table was warm wood, the lights were dim, and the clink of silverware was the only sound for a long, awkward minute.

Megumi passed you a bowl of rice. You blinked at it.

“…Thanks,” you mumbled, still not looking him in the eye.

He spooned more onto his own plate like this was any other night.

Toji dropped into the seat across from you, arms spreading along the chair like he was lounging in a booth and not sitting next to the girl who had just given his son a handjob upstairs.

“You allergic to anything?” he asked casually.

“Nope,” you replied, way too quickly. “No allergies. Totally healthy. Blood pressure’s great. Iron levels are solid.”

Toji blinked once. Then smirked. “You’re nervous.”

You stabbed a piece of chicken. “I’m fine.”

“She’s not,” Megumi muttered beside you.

You kicked his shin under the table. Lightly. He nudged your knee back. Casually. Like he wasn’t trying to make it obvious. You didn’t know what was worse—getting caught, or the fact that Megumi wasn’t even sweating it. He looked so calm. Like he wasn’t fully aware his father was three feet away from the exact place he came in his pants not thirty minutes ago.

“So,” Toji said, gesturing toward you with his chopsticks. “What’s your deal?”

You blinked. “My… deal?”

“Yeah. What do you do when you’re not harassing my son in his own house?” You coughed. Megumi set down his glass with a sigh.

“She’s failing chemistry,” he deadpanned. “And history. And math. And she can’t focus for more than ten minutes at a time.”

“Rude,” you muttered, nudging him harder.

“She’s also loud. Dramatic. Obsessed with her phone. And thinks the Meiji Restoration is a band name.”

You glared at him. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

Toji snorted. “Hah. Like him?” Your jaw snapped shut.

Toji leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “You know he used to get into fights in middle school?”

You blinked. “Megumi?”

“Yeah,” Toji said, like he was just talking about the weather. “Kid had a temper. Silent rage kind. Didn’t talk much, but if someone messed with his friends or got on his nerves—bam. Straight for the throat.”

Megumi stared at his rice. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

You turned to him, eyebrows high. “You? Fighting people?”

“I had a lot of energy.”

“You had rage issues, apparently.”

“I don’t anymore,” he said calmly.

Toji grinned. “Only because he started channeling it into studying. Got obsessed with winning tests instead of fights.”

You looked at Megumi again, this time a little softer. “You’re such a nerd.”

He nudged your foot again under the table. This time—gentle. You felt your shoulders slowly lower. Just a bit.

Toji turned to you again, chewing thoughtfully. “You two dating?” Megumi stiffened slightly. You choked on your water.

“No,” Megumi said after a beat.

“No,” you echoed, wiping your mouth.

“Shame,” Toji said. “You’ve got decent banter. Would’ve been a power couple.”

You both looked at your plates. It was quiet again. A little too quiet. Then, suddenly, Megumi reached for the last piece of grilled eggplant—and slid it onto your plate.

You looked at it. Then at him.

He didn’t say anything. Just kept eating like it didn’t matter. But it did. Because Megumi noticed you’d been eyeing it earlier. And he gave it to you without saying a word.

Your heart tripped. You swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Toji saw it. You knew he did. But he just huffed, shook his head like he’d seen this movie before, and went back to eating.

You were one hallway away from freedom.

One hallway.

After forty minutes of Satoru’s so-called lecture—which included three unrelated tangents, a metaphor involving ramen, and him nearly falling off his desk while impersonating a Tokugawa shogun—you’d packed your bag, slipped on your sunglasses, and made a beeline for the exit.

But he was faster.

“Yo, heartbreaker,” Gojo called from behind, voice sing-song and annoying. “Wait up!”

You didn’t. But he still caught up, striding beside you like he wasn’t the bane of your academic existence.

“Was my class too stimulating today?” he teased, hands in his pockets. “You looked real focused. Even took notes.”

You blinked. “Oh. Right. The notes.”

Your spiral-bound notebook held exactly three lines: “i hate this man”, “meiji these nuts”, a dramatic drawing of Megumi’s glasses with hearts around them you’d already scribbled out

“Uh-huh,” Gojo hummed. “So. How’s tutoring going?”

Your spine snapped straight.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t. There’s no way he knew.

“Fine,” you replied, too fast.

He tilted his head. “Just fine?”

You added a smile. Too wide. Too fake. “Amazing, actually. Megumi’s a really patient teacher.”

“Patient,” he repeated. “He yelled at me in middle school for calling the mitochondria ‘the powerhouse of the cell’ too many times.”

You shrugged. “He likes me better.”

Gojo snorted. “Doubtful. But cute try.”

You were already halfway to the stairs when he called after you— “Don’t forget the midterm’s tomorrow”

You stopped. Your heart dropped. “Midterm?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Multiple choice. Bonus essay. Covers the last six weeks of stuff you definitely weren’t paying attention to.”

You turned around slowly. “Since when is that tomorrow?”

“Since always. I announced it three times.”

You squinted. “You also said Napoleon invented Nutella.”

“Which is true,” he said, clearly lying. “Anyway, Megumi’s smart. I’m expecting results, yeah?”

You nodded, stomach curling. “Totally. Results. Coming right up.”

He gave you a wink, then disappeared down the hall, humming like this wasn’t the beginning of your academic funeral. You sighed. Megumi was going to be so smug about this. And worse? You were going to have to actually study. Or… at least pretend to.

You failed.

Twenty-two percent.

One out of twenty-five multiple choice. One barely coherent paragraph on the essay. And a stupid smiley face sticker Gojo slapped on it like it wasn’t the nail in your academic coffin.

It should’ve been funny. Hell, it used to be funny—failing things, fucking off, shrugging through it with a toss of your hair and a flip of your skirt. But now?

Now it just felt pathetic.

Now you were standing in front of Megumi’s house again, glossing your lips in your phone’s camera like everything wasn’t falling apart. Like you weren’t seconds from spiraling. Like your ego wasn’t barely stitched together with fake confidence and denial.

You didn’t knock this time.

Not when your phone was buzzing with Gojo’s “yikes” text. Not when your report card sat crumpled in your bag, screaming 22% at you like it was carved into your skin. You fixed your lip gloss in your reflection—because if you looked okay, maybe it wouldn’t feel so pathetic.

Megumi opened the door five seconds later.

And yeah, you knew.

You knew instantly that he knew.

He didn’t say hi. Didn’t scowl or raise an eyebrow or let out that bratty sigh he always did when he saw you. No, today? Today he looked done. Cold. Like every inch of warmth he’d ever barely shown you had frozen over.

“I brought boba,” you said, stepping in anyway like you weren’t dying inside. “Taro, obviously. You looked like a taro guy.”

Nothing.

You set the cup on the table. His arms were crossed. His hoodie hung off his frame like a threat.

“Gojo told me,” he said flatly.

Your stomach dropped.

You kept your tone light. “Told you what?”

“That you failed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow, so he’s doing the morning announcements now—”

“You told me you were studying.” His voice was razor-sharp. “You told me you cared.”

“I do care—”

“Bullshit.” His voice cracked through the room. “You didn’t study. You didn’t even try.”

“I did!”

“No,” he snapped, eyes narrowed. “You flirted. You scrolled Instagram. You half-assed everything I gave you and then lied to my face.”

You scoffed. “Jesus, dramatic much?”

“I wasted my time.”

“You volunteered!”

“You begged me!”

“And you said yes!” you shot back. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy it—finally getting to feel smart and smug and better than me for once.”

His fists clenched. “I’m not better than you.”

“Oh really?” You laughed. Bitter. “Because you act like you are. Like I’m just some dumb bitch who doesn’t deserve to pass.”

“If the shoe fits—”

“You motherfucker—”

“I gave you everything,” Megumi cut you off. “I planned lessons, I asked your teachers, I gave you my notes—hell, I let you in my house!”

“Oh please. You liked it. Having me here. Made you feel special.”

“You used me.” You flinched. He wasn’t wrong. But it still stung.

“Don’t turn this around,” you snapped. “You think I don’t notice how you look at me? Like I’m just some project to fix. You’re just pissed because I didn’t end up being your little success story.”

“You’re pissed because you failed and you didn't even try,” he growled, stepping forward. “and you wonder why gojo or me doesn't kiss you on the forehead and give you a gold star on your homework at the end of the day."

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you,” Megumi shouted. “You want to play victim? Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you keep failing everything you touch.”

You clenched your jaw. “At least I’m not some emotionless virgin nerd who thinks being good at math makes you better than everyone.”

Silence. His mouth parted slightly—just enough for you to see it land.

He looked away. And for a second, you felt bad. But you were angry. And embarrassed. And spiraling.

“You know what?” he said, voice lower now—hurt. Quiet, but dangerous. “I should’ve known. Should’ve listened when everyone said you were just a shallow, spoiled brat with not enough brain cells.”

You froze. That one dug.

“That’s what all of you do, isn’t it?” you whispered, voice trembling. “Assume. Judge. You think I don’t hear what people say behind my back?”

Megumi didn’t respond. “You think I don’t know I’m the joke?”

His throat bobbed.

“I let you in,” you hissed. “I trusted you. I let you see me when I didn’t let anyone see me. And now? You’re just like the rest of them.”

Megumi flinched — but only for a second. Then he barked a humorless laugh. “Oh, fuck off.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

“You let me in?” he repeated, eyes wide, voice rising with every word. “You let me in? You show up here with excuses and think that’s vulnerability?”

Your chest twisted. “Don’t twist my words—”

“No,” he cut you off, stepping toward you, furious. “You don’t get to play that card, not after lying to me over and over. You didn’t let me in. You used me. Like everyone else. Like I’m disposable the second you’re bored.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Megumi shouted. “You didn’t give a shit about learning. You cared about passing long enough to get people off your back. You cared about looking like you were trying. And I was the idiot who actually believed you meant it.”

Your throat burned. “So now I’m a liar? A manipulative bitch?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Say it,” you dared, voice cracking. “Go ahead. Call me a bitch, a slut, say it like everyone else does.”

“You said it first,” Megumi snapped. “Is that what you think of yourself?”

You blinked. That landed too hard.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, pacing, seething. “I tried so fucking hard, and it still wasn’t enough. Nothing’s enough for you. Not effort, not time, not me.”

“Then why’d you say yes?” you screamed. “Why’d you let me stay? Why the fuck did you let me touch you if you were just gonna throw it in my face the second things got hard?”

For a moment—just a moment—Megumi looked stunned. And then he laughed. Not a funny laugh. A bitter one. Quiet and venomous. “You wanna know why?” he said, stepping forward, every word sharp enough to cut. “Because I was fucking stupid.”

Your stomach dropped. “I was stupid enough to think there was more to you than a pretty face and a loud mouth. Stupid enough to think if I just gave you a chance, if I helped, you’d prove everyone wrong.” His eyes burned into yours. “But they were right. You are exactly who they said you were.”

The words hit you like a slap. You blinked. Once. Twice. Heart in your throat. And then— “You’re a jerk,” you whispered, voice shaking. “You’re a fucking asshole.” He didn’t flinch. “You—” you pushed him hard in the chest, palms slamming against him, “—don’t get to say that to me.” Another shove. “You don’t fucking know me!”

“Don’t I?” he snapped, not backing away. “I know you’d rather look hot than be smart. I know you’d rather lie to everyone than admit when you’re struggling. I know the second things stop going your way, you throw a tantrum.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“You flirt your way out of everything and call it confidence. You coast by on being pretty and mean and then cry victim when someone doesn’t bend to you!” You hit his chest again, harder.

“Fuck you!”

“You said you let me in?” he shouted, grabbing your wrists. “You didn’t let me in. You let me orbit you. You let me touch the surface just enough to feel like I mattered. But I didn’t, did I?”

“Let go of me!”

He did—instantly.

And when he took a step back, his voice came out quieter, but no less cutting.

Megumi’s chest rose and fell, too fast. His fists were trembling at his sides. “I wanted to help you,” he said, softer. “And I thought maybe—fuck, maybe if I did, if I stuck around, you’d actually see that.”

You stared at him. He shook his head. “But all you saw was a hopeless case. A virgin. A joke.”

You swallowed.

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Should’ve known better.”

There was a long pause. Then you laughed. Cold. Bitter. “Poor Megumi. Got feelings. Got rejected. Welcome to the real world.”

His jaw clenched. “Get out.”

“Gladly,” you snapped, turning around.

“Next time,” he called after you, voice shaking with rage, “ask someone else to clean up your mess.”

You spun halfway around, eyes blazing. “Next time, I won’t waste my time on someone who can’t even handle a kiss without falling apart.”

He didn’t reply. Didn’t look at you. Didn’t have to. Because the damage was done.

And when you walked out the door this time—slamming it behind you so hard it rattled the frame—you didn’t look back, but god, you wanted to. You wanted to look back so fucking bad. And that’s how you knew this wasn’t over. Not really. Not even close.

parts, chapter 03

taglist, @crispycatt @littlevoidfairy @bookfreakk @1-rxse-1 @starzfaerie @zephyairies @moonmaiden1996 @simonexxx1 @pinkmeatball218 @evii1e @xavisbabie @maeviees @justanotherasiangirl @tiasd1ary @shioribuns @allysainz @mwrgwt

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crowandtalbot · 7 hours ago

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Well, I was raised religious and like a bad smoking habit I can't give it up. I like to say "build a soul and then we can talk", because I don't believe in the concept of a soul that was taught to me in church or that is often discussed even by spiritualist people who swear they are also non-religious. I posit that a soul is the ineffable abstraction that is greater than the sum of its parts. It is by nature something that cannot be measured or legislated with, because it is the a concept made specifically to discuss the combined aspects of an individual's lived experience. It is the specific experience of an individual's life on the whole of it.

But yeah, that means I also get frustrated by people who mean well, but ultimately loose the point when they, for example, claim that AI generated art is "soulless" because a robot made it. The issue is not that a robot made it. Instead, it's about the fact it's made with the data stolen from artists for the purpose of "solving" an entire aspect of human expression. That the program is made to perpetuate the violence of outmoding entire people from modern life.

It's about the fact that generative AI programs cannot think. They can only assign a number value to words and pixels and arrange those numbers by a weight system of how often one number shows up next to another. It cannot understand or derive new information from reading in between the numbers, so to speak. It cannot imagine or create. Inspiration from reference is not the right phrase for what generative AI programs do, not because they don't have a magic ghost that can go to Hell, but because they are not doing that other thing that I described as a soul. They are not living an experience that they are then motivated to communicate to others through an emotional need for socialization and community. They cannot be emotionally driven to seek the prompts humans put in to derive an output. They are the Rube Goldberg machines, not the kid left home alone on Christmas.

Until you are willing to sacrifice the idea of a "state of being at a higher vibration" or whatever else we're calling the force ghost now, you will continue to be distracted by the real dangers presented by technocracy and eugenics and fascism being used as a legal basis in our modern society.

That's why I normally don't even bring up my alternate definition. To concede the need to discuss it in the same breath as like, legislation, is to already loose the point. I don't care that banning abortions for an ectopic pregnancy is potentially "soulless" or even "immoral". I care that we already know denying abortions in, especially by not limited to, the cases of ectopic pregnancy, abuse, and rape, absolutely and directly kills women right now. I don't care that AI art lacks emotion or is even an objectively worse product, I care that we already know building the data centers and running them pollutes the planet and introduces even more institutional violence into the community. I do a little bit care that I know my own artwork from before AI scrappers were a thing to worry about was used without my knowledge or consent to replace me. It fucking hurts every day to know the skill I sought a career in and dedicated almost 10 years of my life to is now just cool little party trick, like pulling the table cloth out from an already set table or underwater basket weaving. We know this society already was not handling it's distributions of the resources so to sustain a basic quality of life for everyone, it is not prepared to suddenly provide that for people who cannot get a job to generate wealth for a ruling class. Whether it's good or bad doesn't matter, it's already not working and we absolutely know it will get worse because of things that are not abstract, things that can be weighed, measured, and studied right fucking now in this vibrational level right here!

"corporations don't have a soul" "machines don't have a soul" neither do humans. I won't convert to your religion. Think up a new argument.

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redrage71890 · 5 hours ago

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Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 4

Synopsis: Sorting out ways to help Rumi's voice one day leads to the discovery of an emerging demon boy band. Their song hypnotic as they hastily gain fans all around. HUNTR/X being less than happy with the results.

Genres: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Yandere

CW: None

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Word Count: 3.6k A/N: Hi I took a break and might have forgotten a few plot points whilst forgetting to write them down before hand :D

————————————————————

"Girls! *huff* I'm sorry I'm late! I got caught up with someone..."

Bursting through the door of the empty restaurant (Y/N) apologises first without thinking. Seeing the three girls at a small table as they long forget their food.

Zoey and Mira gleams seeing the (f/c)nette, though Rumi looks more surprised. "(Y/N)! You made it." Zoey waves at her as the manager awkwardly waves back, taking a seat in between Mira and Rumi.

"Again, I'm sorry..."

"Hey. Its alright. We haven't really started eating anyway."

"No. Its not only that. What happened during rehearsals, I didn't mean to sound mean o-or dismissive of you girls. Its just stress for me. But! I p-promise I'll be better and I'll be there to back you girls up no matter what."

(Y/N) puts on a confident smile for the girls, a fluttering sensation flowing through their hearts at the rare sight. Zoey breaks the silence by giggling at the feeling in her chest. (Y/N) not particular sure why the black-nette started giggling but joined her nonetheless.

"But. Back to before." Cutting off their giggles with a more serious expression. "I'll be honest here, its going to be hard to reschedule the live show because of the sudden cancellation."

"We got that impression from Bobby earlier..." Mira states.

"I...I'm sorry guys. My voice, its in trouble."

'Trouble? That's new.'

"Wait, in trouble? Then why did you push up the 'Golden' release?"

"Because we're so close, and its so important." Rumi states. But her tone and words made (Y/N) curiously think more.

'So close?'

"Okay, how do we handle this? What do we tell the fans? Maybe we should call Celine?"

"I don't advice that. We know what she'd say."

"Oh, right."

"We are hunters. Voices strong. Your faults and fears must never be seen."

Zoey and Mira reciting what their predecessor echoed at them. (Y/N) furrowed her brows at the phrase.

Her and her mother were never one to follow that motto. Mother in particular despising it. It being forced upon her as she tried to hide all her faults to the point of breakdowns and frustration. It always made her searing patterns appear.

"Rumi, why don't we take a break? We'll skip the Idol Awards this year and-"

"No. No way. Its our most important show. Its when we strengthen the honmoon for the entire year. We can't skip it. We just can't. Not when I'm so close."

‘Close to what? You’re not telling us something Rumi. Though….isn’t that ironic…’

What’s (Y/N) to say about secrets when she herself hasn’t been completely honest. But when has anyone ever been completely transparent. It’s not like every secret needs to be spilled just because someone wants to know. We have a right to keep things to ourselves.

Though in this case, Rumi’s secret might become a massive headache for them.

”Hey, we’ll get through this. We can get through anything. Together.” Zoey’s encouragement bringing on a slightly more relaxed expression on Rumi.

”Okay. We have two weeks to fix Rumi’s voice. Any ideas?”

”I do have one idea.”

”Just one?”

“Shoot, Zoey.”

”Okay, actually, 57, but let’s start with my favourite. Don’t worry. It’s totally legit.”

Shrugging her shoulders and leaning on her elbow against the table, (Y/N) watches the girls listen to Zoey explaining some of her ideas.

She won’t outright say it in the moment, but some of these ideas boarded along the lines of obvious scams and false promises. As much as Zoey at times annoyed (Y/N), she didn’t have the heart to tell her the likely truths.

“(Y/N), why aren’t you eating? We ordered plenty for you.” Zoey questions their manager. “O-Oh, right. Sorry I’ve been a bit lost in thought recently.” Brushing off their stares she picks up her utensils and began digging into her food.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Mira asks with a more worried frown. Zoey and Rumi holding similar expressions with more concern.

Seeing as she can’t get herself out of this conversation, she just sighed and stopped eating. “(Sigh) I’m not getting away from this, am I?” Averting her gaze up to meet the three sets of eyes on her. “Okay then. I….had another….one of my episodes. Right when Rumi left rehearsals...”

Uttering those words, the hunters all clung to her body in a tight yet comforting hug. It’s not been the first time this happened. Well. More like the third time this happened.

The first time was after their debut, a quite public breakdown occurred back stage. It was embarrassing to be seen by the staff. Her mother was the one that told the girls of her anxiety attacks.

The second was right before the tour started. The sheer amount of organising, meetings and calls she did was breaking her mind out of pure exhaustion. The girls found her hyperventilating in the bathroom on the dirty tiles with her attempted eyeliner dripping down her face.

And now, marks the third time.

Well, they technically weren’t there for this one.

A private meltdown with no one to hear or comfort her.

"Never apologise for experiencing that. We should be sorry for not being there for you." Mira gently pats her (f/c) hair.

"Please don't be afraid to come for us! We will always be there for you!" Zoey cries out clinging to her back.

"Yes, (Y/N). Let us know if anything troubles you. We'll do anything to help in anyway!" Rumi adds hugging her side.

The three hunters felt guilty for there actions. Not being there for (Y/N) hurt them. They hate seeing her so stressed. The girls really wish their lovely manager would confined in them more.

Unfortunately though, their said manager just really needed a breath of fresh air that's currently being crushed out of her lungs.

"G-Guys....y-you can let go n-now..."

————————————————————

After a big hugging session putting the four of them to sleep, the girls dressed in their best disguises and went out in the streets of Seoul. (Y/N) was glad she managed to sleep for a whole night for once. But she still wished she slept in her own bed and not on the couch with the girls.

Donning her classic baggy attire but with a cap obscuring her eyes. Ignoring the face mask as she got the feeling it wasn't necessary. Though she also remembered Jinu and his buddies putting on a show today. Just before leaving she stuffed the flyer in her pockets as a reminder.

But as of now, she follows the girls to make sure this guy Zoey recommends doesn't do anything.

Though hearing what Zoey is saying makes her want to divert them away as fast as possible.

"He's got this special tonic. Apparently, it can heal anything from sore throats to relationship problems."

'Oh you don't say!'

"Ssh! Quietly, Zoey."

"Why are there so many people today?"

(Y/N) noted how populated the area is at the moment. Of course the girls are worried about being seen and finding their disguises online. Our girl especially would rather not be seen on any post.

"Down that alleyway."

Diverging their path from the busy streets, they stood at the foot of an old hanok building refurnished to a clinic with an LED sign with the name 'Han 의원'.

'Yeah... this seems totally legit...'

"Yep, about as legit as I expected."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one thinking that." Mira smiles her way unknowingly.

"Earth and herby. Smells legit to me."

"Yay! That's the spirit! 가자 가자 가자!"

"Hurry, before someone sees us."

Entering the building the girls are greeted with the appearance of a usual doctors front desk/office. Though catching the eyes of our manager and Rumi was a wall lined with numerous signed framed pictures of the doctor and what appears to be celebrities. Seemingly other idols.

Though one picture caught her eye.

A group of four boys giving each other a back hug whilst leaning on the others shoulders, with the doctor strangely at one side gesturing to them. Those faces were oddly familiar.

Dragging her out of her head was the sound of the doctor entering. Standing up to bow and greet the doctor as he urges them to sit.

"You need no introduction. So, a problem with your voice."

"Yes. So we need one of your awesome tonics. Something that will work super fast."

"Okay, let me see."

(Y/N) automatically knew they guy ain't legit. Not bothering to do a proper examination of her throat and instead just staring at her with bulged out eyes.

"I see. I see.... No. Actually, I don't see. Very strange. You have lots of walls up."

"Whoa! He's so good, right?"

"I dunno about that Zoey..." Muttering to herself while messaging her temples.

Rumi scoffs at the comment but Mira quickly affirms that she indeed, does. Denial is not exactly on her side today.

"I'm just trying to stay focused."

"Focus is good, but focusing on one part leads to ignoring other parts, making you separated, isolated."

Her brows raised at the observation. Her own experience agrees with the statement. Mira and Zoey quickly agreeing with the doctor and stating their own views of the sometimes emotionally closed off workaholic known as Rumi. Their leader.

'This does not feel like a doctors appointment. If anything, its just a guy stating out obvious traits and iss-'

"Quiet, yet vocal. A mind racing with thoughts unheard. Silenced by those around, only eager for something else."

She didn't realise the doctor was pointedly staring at her.

"W-What?"

"Yeah, what are saying to our dear manager!" Zoey exclaims clinging onto her side.

"Z-Zoey. Its fine. P-Please let go." She asks of the eager girl, the said giving her some sparkly puppy eyes before letting go.

"How does this help me get my voice back?"

"As I said, to treat the part, we must understand the whole."

"(Groan) That's great, but I thought we were here just for your tonics."

"Just give us the voice juice."

————————————————————

Whilst the girls were waiting for the tonics, (Y/N) decided to wait outside for them. She trusts them enough to get the tonics, as much as she isn't fond of them.

That picture on the wall seemed oddly familiar.

'Where have I seen those boys from...'

With her time as a manager for HUNTR/X, she's seen and met a fair share of trainees and idols. Perhaps that is why they seemed familiar. But even then, nothing noteworthy comes up when she saw their faces. Man she wishes she could remember where she saw these guys.

Shaking her head to try and ward off these strangely curious thoughts.

'This shouldn't be occupying my brain as much as it should. I should be thinking about another song to sing for tomorrow night, I have another pacifying to d-'

"Oof!"

"Sorry, are you alright?"

So caught up in her mind that she ended up wandering out of the alleyway. Clashing bodies with a strong built guy and falling to her knees by accident.

"Y-Yeah, I'm f-fin- Oh. You're the guys I saw with Jinu last night." Meeting the familiar short pink haired friend of Jinu. The said male had his eyes widen slightly before turning down back to normal. A glint of mischief in his eyes with a thought.

"We never fully introduced ourselves, I'm called Abby." Bowing his head slightly as a greeting whilst helping her up.

"I'm Romance, Jinu mentioned me last time we saw each other." The longer pink haired male comes up from behind and leans on Abby's shoulder.

"I remember that."

"The one pouting behind me is our maknae, Baby Saja. And the last with the long fringe is Mystery." The mentioned maknae side-eyed Romance from his confirmed pouting face.

(Y/N) felt a chin resting on her shoulder, feeling the fluffy silver grey hair of Mystery tickling her face and neck. His close contact sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. Glancing her gaze down slightly, she can see the slight run-through of purple patterns across his exposed face, a quick reminder on what they are really.

Moving her shoulders up forces Mystery off with a sad pout on his face from the action.

"Well, its nice to meet you guys. Aren't you performing today?" She questions with a shiver to her body, still uncomfortable with Mystery's strange 'greeting' to her.

"Why yes, we are. Are you sticking around to watch us?" Romance asks with a flirtatious wink.

(Y/N) already decided she was going to watch them, purely to see what kind of concept her and HUNTR/X are working against. Though the pastel clothing was enough to tell her. Now its a matter of curiosity.

Shrugging her shoulders while stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I don't see why not. I'm actually also waiting for some friends, so I may as well kill some time."

"I'm so glad to hear that!"

Turning up her attention she sees Jinu pushing past the other boys (who don't look that happy with the action), an excited expression etching onto his face upon seeing her. His presence calming her shivers ever so slightly.

"I'm gonna assume you were organising your stage Jinu?" Crossing her arms and putting on a more professional tone. She may consider Jinu a new friend, but that doesn't mean he's off the hook as a demon yet.

His reason for being on the surface is enough to raise suspicion.

"Your powers would be of great use, considering you guys don't seem to have a manager in sight. (muttering) Even I don't think a company is willing to sign you and debut you the same year, let alone week." Her muttering went under their ears, replaced with shocked expressions to hear that she knows of their faces behind the disguises.

Jinu awkwardly chuckles, sort of amused by her bluntness, but is still heavily questioning how she knows this. "(chuckle) You have no fear in what we are, do you?" Leaning closer to her ear, his voice sending another nervous shiver through her body.

Taking a short breath in before leaning closer to his ear. "Why would I fear someone who doesn't hold such malice in his eyes."

The male had a thrilling shiver go up his spine. Not only from the proximity, but the words from her quiet melodic voice.

"I only see shame and guilt."

————————————————————

"WHERE DID (Y/N) GO?!"

"I DON'T KNOW?!"

The three girls were panicking upon coming out of the clinic, their box of tonics in hand. They were cheering about helping Rumi's voice, but stopped when they couldn't find their dear manager.

"Did anyone find where she went?"

"No?! We were inside for honmoon's sake!"

"Oh no! She might have been taken by demons! No she must be so lonely and-"

"What is going on?!"

Swerving their head around, they see (Y/N) with a confused face seeing their panicked state.

"My god...I thought you guys found a dead body or something. There is no need to yell for me, you don't want to be attracting ANY attention. Right?"

Her firm strict tone being a quick reminder of what role (Y/N) has played ever since their debut. A more strict version of Bobby with her hands in the creative process. Even when she wasn't fully comfortable with the girls yet, she still managed to steer them in the right direction when avoiding scandals and demos for songs.

"Y-Yeah...sorry (N/n)." Zoey frowns apologetically.

Sighing to herself like her mother usually does when she breaks a vase.

"You guys are the ones that said you wanted to stay out of sight." Her muttering causes guilty expressions to pull on the girls. "Don't worry about that now. I should be sorry as well, considering I just walked away without an explanation." Forgiving the girls for this is easier than letting it drag on more.

Rumi and Mira were about to provide an explanation for their panic, but their ears were picking up the faint sound of an instrumental beginning to play in the background.

"Wait. What is that?"

Rumi's question urges the girls to pop their heads out of the alleyway. Only to see a strange pink smoke beginning to form near the centre of the busy area. The backing instruments sounding positive and bubbly as it went on.

Adjusting their disguises, they make their way towards the commotion.

"Hey, hey"

"Hey"

Five silhouettes can be made out in the smoke, all striking poses before the pink suddenly disappears to reveal the performers.

"Don't want you, need you"

"Yeah, I need you to fill me up"

"Masigo masyeo bwado"

"Seonge chaji ana"

"Got a feeling that, oh, yeah (Yeah)"

"You could be everything that"

"That I need (Need), taste so sweet (Sweet)"

"Every sip makes me want more, yeah"

"Its those stupid jerks again!" Rumi exclaims. "Wait. You know those guys?" (Y/N)'s confusion evident but is ignored by the sheer number of people gathering around.

"These guys are a boy band?" Another question Rumi exclaims. Irritation growing in her more.

"Lookin like snacks 'cause you got it like that (Woo)"

"Take a big bite, want another bite, yeah"

"Neoui modeun geol nan wonhae, wonhae, wonhae"

"Neo malgon modu pyeonhae, pyeonhae, pyeonhae"

"Whеn you're in my arms, I hold you so tight (So tight)"

"Can't let go, no, no, not tonight"

"That jerk stole one of my pouches!" Recounting her tonics upon seeing Jinu drinking one.

(Y/N) deciding to question later why Jinu decided to intentionally or not, magically send back an ahjumma with a hip thrust.

"Jigeum dangjang nal bwa sigan еopjana"

"Neon naekkeoya imi algo itjana"

"'Cause I need you to need me"

"I'm empty, you feed me so refreshing"

'A drop?'

"My little soda pop"

"You're all I can think of"

"Every drop I drink up"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

"Cool me down, you're so hot"

"Pour me up, I won't stop"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

The chorus infectiously going around the crowd with shoulder movements galore. Bopping their bodies to the earworm worthy song. Not even Zoey or (Y/N) were immune to the rhythm.

As much as Rumi and Mira glare for them to stop, their bodies couldn't deny the contagious beat.

"It is annoyingly catchy, though."

"Its infectious."

Romance and Baby Saja sending out kisses of hearts into the ground, physically knocking out those hit.

"They can make hearts out of thin air?" Mira's questions go unanswered, but (Y/N) can think of ways to reply.

But reflecting in the sunlight, catching the hunters eyes, was the faint purple patterns running through their arms and the hint of gold in their dreamy irises.

"(Gasp) They're demons!"

"Magicians! Demons. Obviously demons."

"My little soda pop"

"Uh, make me wanna flip the top"

"Han mogeume you hit the spot"

"Every little drip and drop, fizz and pop, ah"

"Soreum doda it's gettin' hot"

"Yes, I'm sippin' when it's drippin' now"

"It's done? I need a second round"

"And pour a lot and don't you stop"

"'Til my soda pop fizzles out"

"Dang they're good."

"Incredible. But a demon boy band? Why?"

"I don't care. A demon's a demon. We kill them." Rumi and (Y/N) stops Mira before anything can happen.

"No, its too public."

"Do you want everyone to grill us into being cancelled?"

"What if they try to kill these people?" Mira's reasoning is valid from her perspective. But everything around them says otherwise.

"It doesn't look like they're gonna hurt anyone." Zoey's observation being noted by (Y/N), seeing as the five boys helping out a few people struggling with little things.

"Kkum soge geuryeowatdeon neo"

"Nan jeoldae nochil su eopseo"

"Neol wonhae kkok"

"I waited so long for a taste of soda"

"So, the wait is over, baby"

"Come and fill me up"

"Just can't get enough"

"Oh"

"In fact, it almost seems like they're nice demons?"

"Demons are never nice!"

Seeing the girls rush over to destroy the very things the demons touched. Panic washing over with her usual professionalism masking it. Purchasing another hotdog for the girl with the right amount of sauce and giving the children smaller gifts in replacement for the destroyed ones, giving them all a soft smile in comfort.

'Think before you act, girls.'

"You're all I can think of"

"Every drop I drink up"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop (Yeah, yeah)"

"Cool me down, you're so hot"

"Pour me up, I won't stop (Oh, oh)"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

The sudden appearance of a stage large soba can was a choice, in (Y/N)'s opinion. But the wave of pastels and illusionary magic is what set her off.

Pushing her way through the crowd to catch up with the girls, she found her way near the front.

'I see what's going on...'

"Ooh, ooh"

"You're my soda pop"

"Gotta drink every drop"

Striking their ending poses, Jinu looks down at the crowd, meeting the (f/c) and gold gaze with his brown ones. Smiling softly at her before diverting his attention.

"That's it for now. See you tonight on everyone's favourite variety show. Saja Boys love you!"

The demon boy band disappearing in a puff of smoke.

The three hunters grew more irritated at the easy work the demons have accomplished by just performing once! Determined to end this boy band as fast as possible.

(Y/N) on the other hand had other thoughts.

'Well then, if you want to play like this Jinu, I hope you know what's coming for you.'

*Ding*

Her phone vibrated with the indication of a text message. Opening up her messages to see the new text, reading made a small sigh release from her mouth.

Jinu: Hey (Y/N), lets meet up tonight. I'll meet you at the place we met.

————————————————————

Edit: I took a break and I managed to fall down into my Record of Ragnarok phase again whilst also watching the new Superman movie (really good I recommend). Also if anyone wants to be tagged, pls ask in the recent parts bc it just makes the list a lot easier to find and compile.

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicous, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna, @napbatata, @that-one-girl2020, @tagmepls, @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant, @minepugs, @crescent-z, @colorfulgardenerduck, @poem-bee, @deityofprocastinating, @0-undead-0, @gremlinartstudio, @jessica-mcd, @strayharmony943, @fruityg0rl, @cherryblossomfox, @aominehaven, @kyxmlii, @ssaischilling, @sweaterkitty-fluff, @historygeekqueen, @satansdaughter123, @theall-seeingone, @nvmkyuu, @amenabii, @julianne1024, @doggyteam2028, @nisarelle, @theall-seeingone, @hi-itsmee28, @celesteelysia, @maritheillusion, @levifiance, @kangsae-byeokfan, @hornehlittleweeblet12, @scara-simp69, @fancyhawk45, @shqyou, @enerofairy, @futuristicdefendorfart, @scentwombatarcade, @eliengoddes, @irethepotato, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @jessica-mcd, @koda-lupinn, @yoursleeparalysisdem0n, @tsukimoon-chan, @ityourguy, @elaemae, @neverending-animelove, @type-ink, @pandafuriousa60, @mazzk1ng, @theall-seeingone, @rorotvt2025

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onelinerbust · 2 days ago

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Antonio just finished his 20 hours shift in the hospital and he's honestly super drained and just need a quick yet thorough clean of himself before hitting the bed. But as soon as he stepped through the front door, the sight in front of his very eyes surprised him

"Oh, hey you," his boyfriend, Russell, said with slight nonchalance as his eyes are focused on him, well, not him.....but an impostor that looked like him sitting across the dining table

"What the actual fuck?"

"Oh, how rude I am for not introducing you two. Antonio, meet.....Antonio, well, you two probably know each other a lot more than me knowing you two,"

"Fuck, that last shift really fucked me up. How on Earth a dream gets to be this realistic?" pondered the real Antonio loudly

"Oh, this Antonio indeed fucked me so good last night for our anniversary, right baby?"

The impostor Antonio just grinned and then goes on to peck Russell's on his cheek as he murmured lustfully

"You were such a good, obedient patient last night. You opened your mouth when I said so. You opened your hole too when your doctor said so. As a doctor, it's the best thing to have a cute, obedient patient like you. Fuck, I'm hard again just thinking about it,"

"Oh, stop it babe, we have a guest here. Let's not go a bit ahead with all of this, we haven't even explain what's about to happen to him,"

"Oh yup, you are right, we can't have an Antonio that is too busy for his own boyfriend and also two Antonio co-existing in this world," the impostor said with a menacing sharp turn when he muttered the last phrase, both he and Russell stared at the bewildered real Antonio with malicious intent in their eyes

#male transformation #identity theft #male shapeshift #male impostor

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charliegyrth · 1 day ago

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Unspoken - 1 of 2

We Both Know I'm Getting Fat

“Ryan, what’s wrong?” My boyfriend stood in the doorway. I hadn’t heard him come home.

I spun around, forcing a smile. “Nothing. I was just looking at my reflection.”

That was true. Nothing suspicious about that.

“But why were you standing like that?” Charles asked.

“Like what?” I played dumb.

“Sticking out your stomach like that. Were you pretending to be pregnant or something?”

“No. Just fat.”

“You were pretending to be fat?”

If I was going to save face, I had to act casual. “Yeah. Doesn’t everybody do that when they’re in front of a mirror?”

“I guess,” he said. “Do you think you’re getting fat?”

I didn’t answer. He interpreted that as embarrassment, which I guess it was.

“Oh, honey.” He walked over and placed his hands on my narrow hips. “We all get a bit chunky over the holidays. Honestly, I can’t see it at all.” He rubbed his hands along my sides, pinching at the skin. “Nope. No changes. And I would know.”

He didn’t need to tell me this. If I had softened up even a little bit, I’d be the first to notice. All my life, I’d dreamed of gaining weight. Getting a big, manly belly. Growing man tits. I’d never had the courage, though. Probably never would.

That’s why I always stuffed towels into my shirt or pushed out my stomach in front of the mirror. Just a bit of wishful thinking.

I felt embarrassed that my boyfriend had caught me, but I also felt a weird sense of optimism. Charles had brought up the subject. Not me. This was my opportunity to see how he really felt.

“What would you think?” I asked. “If I did get fat?”

“I’d be here for you.” He kissed me on the forehead. “I’d help with a diet plan if you wanted. Take you to the gym. Whatever you needed.”

“And if none of that worked?”

“Well, I’d love you anyway. You’re my guy.”

We sat together on the bed. I always felt so skinny next to Charles. He was pure muscle. Five inches taller than me, too. Just raw, masculine strength. Tough around everyone else (the straightest-acting gay guy you’ll ever meet) yet so kind and gentle to me.

“Would you be attracted to me?” I asked. “If I got fat?”

He kissed me again. “Always.”

“Even if I was obese?”

He held my shoulders, warming me up in his muscular arms. “Always.”

“If I was like 500 pounds?”

“Even if you were a thousand pounds,” he whispered in my ear.

Chills ran through me. I had an erection, but I prayed to God that he didn’t notice.

***

The next day, I was getting ready for work when Charles’ phone buzzed on the counter.

“Could you get that, babe?” he called from the other room. He was in the middle of shaving.

It was a spam call, so I quickly hung up. But I also saw the web page that he’d left open on his phone. He hadn’t touched his phone all morning, so it must’ve been from last night. It was a Google image search for “intentional male weight gain.” The results showed a series of before-and-after photos of hot men (mostly with their faces obscured) growing beautiful bellies and wide asses.

I couldn’t believe it. That’s the kind of thing that I would search for if I was home alone and wanted to pleasure myself. Of course, my searches would be a bit more specific than that. I had a usual roster of gainers that I sought out, the ones who reminded me of myself. I mostly looked at Tumblr videos of muscular guys like Charles feeding ex-twinks that I could project myself onto.

The fact that Charles had typed in this specific phrase told me two things:

One, he knew that I was into gaining weight. (I guess I was more transparent than I thought. And I guess he saw my hard-on.)

And two, he had an open mind about it. He wanted to support me and, even if he wasn’t interested, he at least tried to do some research.

“Who was it, babe?” Charles asked as he walked shirtless into the room. As buff and handsome as ever.

I nervously closed out the search and put his phone back on the table. “Just a spam call.”

“Figured. I freaking hate those.”

I opened my mouth to say something, desperate to get this all out in the open, but the words never came out.

***

That day, I had the biggest lunch of my life. My afternoon schedule was pretty open, so I thought it would be a good time to experiment a little at the McDonalds next to my office. I was going to pack my stomach full of greasy fast food and see how that felt.

I got a bit ambitious (three combos). I ate one in the restaurant and took the other two to go. But when I got in my car, engulfed by that greasy, slightly gross smell, I couldn’t stop myself. In no time at all, I tore through both burgers and all the fries, left the trash on the seat next to me, and drove back to the office.

I was so freaking bloated for the rest of the day. I let my belly poke out as I walked around the office, hoping people would notice. No one did.

When I got back home, Charles was already fixing up dinner. Chicken alfredo. It smelled amazing. Super buttery.

He welcomed me with a kiss and asked about my day. I didn’t tell him about my McDonalds lunch, of course. I also didn’t tell him I was way too full to enjoy his dinner.

But I finished my entire plate anyway. Felt really proud of myself. And when he offered seconds (which he’d never done before), I immediately said yes.

We snuggled together after that and watched a movie on Hulu. I was painfully stuffed. Great feeling.

I guess I fell asleep halfway through the movie. When I woke back up, Charles was back in the kitchen doing dishes.

“Let me help,” I offered. “Least I could do after your amazing dinner.”

“No thanks. I’m in a cleaning mood right now.” He gestured toward the kitchen cabinets. He’d moved around a lot of our stuff. He got like that sometimes. He was a bit OCD, but in a charming way. “You can take out the trash, though.”

I grabbed the bag and immediately noticed that my McDonalds wrappers were lying at the top. “Did you clean up my car?”

“Yup,” he said.

I gulped.

So he knew that I’d binged during lunch. I waited for him to say something about it, but he didn’t. Just kept washing the dishes as if nothing had happened.

***

My fast-food lunches because a regular occurrence. Every day that week, I went to a different place. Sonic on Tuesday, Subway on Wednesday, Panda Express on Thursday and Friday. I really pushed myself, too, ordering a bit more each time.

I felt stuffed and guilty and incredible.

I never told Charles what I was doing, and I never let him see any of the trash afterwards. (Learned my lesson.) Still, I had a feeling that he knew.

I could see it in the way he grinned at me when I got home. In the way he glanced down at my stomach when he thought I wasn’t looking. In the way he licked his lips after kissing me, as if he was trying to guess what I’d eaten.

And I definitely saw it in the way he watched me at dinner. I couldn’t tell for sure, but it felt like he was keeping a mental tally of how many bites I took, gauging the increase in my chewing speed.

There was something incredible erotic about how unspoken this all was. I loved the excitement of wondering if this was all in my head. Perhaps it was. Perhaps I was reading way too much into his glances, and that possibility really turned me on.

After two weeks of overeating (still no physical changes yet, aside from a pretty constant bloat), I decided to test things. See how far I could go before Charles said something.

When we were watching a movie together, after I’d stuffed myself with dinner, I turned to him and asked, “Do we have any ice cream?”

He smiled. “No. But I can run to the supermarket if you want.”

“That’s okay,” I told him, though I made my expression look super disappointed.

“Really. It’s not a problem. I’ve seen this movie before.”

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, still looking disappointed. Honestly, I didn’t want ice cream at all. I had no more room in my stomach. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to see if Charles would insist on it.

“I think I’ll get some,” he finally said. “We need more toothpaste anyway.”

“You’re the best. Rocky road and mint chocolate chip, please. Oh, and French vanilla, too.”

“You got it.” He was grinning from ear to ear as he hurried out the door.

That was when I knew for certain. Yup, he was totally onboard with watching me get fatter.

He returned (surprisingly fast) with three cartons. “Which one do you want now? I’ll put the others in the fridge.”

“How about rocky road and vanilla? I like to mix and match.”

I couldn’t see his expression, but I could hear him chuckle.

After a few seconds, he came back in with two of the cartons, a bowl, and a spoon. I bypassed the bowl and ate straight out of the carton. Vanilla first. “Fuck. This is amazing.”

In reality, the taste was just okay, and my enjoyment was far outweighed by the pain in my overloaded stomach.

I guess I moaned (more from pain than pleasure), because Charles’s face lit up. He scooted closer and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

“Want some?” I asked with my mouth full.

“Naw. I’d rather just concentrate on the show.” He was staring at me, not the TV.

“But I thought you said you’d seen this before.”

“I was wrong,” he said, eyes locked on my mouth. “This is brand new for me.”

Read Part 2 here.

#gainerstory #gainer stories #gainer fiction #feeder fiction #gainerstories #male wg #gainerfiction #gay feeder #weight gain fiction #gainer story #encourager #fatty

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preemptivejustice · 1 hour ago

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Arthur didn’t answer immediately.

He was watching Kane, instead, watching the slow blink of his dark lashes, the way his lip curled, the way his voice sounded when he said he didn’t want to sleep. Arthur’s brows pulled faintly, not in pity but in something else; something upset with himself, something guilty.

He hated knowing that Kane’s body was aching, he hated how he phrased such terrible abuse as nothing more than him being ‘uncomfortable’.

Arthur had brought medical items on purpose for that, of course. He knew that Kane would be aching from everything, so he’d brought things to help - still in a bag, sitting nearby.

He didn’t look at it, though. It was easy to want to keep looking at Kane. There wasn’t anything crude in the thought, it wasn’t inappropriate. The man was beautiful. Kane had been a handsome man to begin with, but the way that this Kane wore it was something else entirely.

There was a softness to him, something fragile and sweet, something frightened and injured. He was trying to hold himself together, and he was doing so well - Arthur wanted to keep him safe.

This wasn’t a bad thought. It didn’t come with want. Just acknowledgement, warmth; something he normally wouldn’t be thinking, normally one who kept his thoughts in order rather well, but…

The shape of the man was far closer to him than he had been with anyone, in a while. His hand was tangled into Kane’s hair, both of them curved into the lines of each other’s body, as if they’d been poured into each other. And Kane was looking at him like that, now - like he was searching for something, brows knit together over beautiful eyes.

The question wasn’t sharp, nor was it cruel. It only pricked because it was right - was it that obvious? He felt it, sure, but he rarely wore how he felt on his face - he supposed that dilated pupils couldn’t be hidden, though. The redness in his eyes, the lower hold of his lids.

He took a small breath, before speaking. “Nothing anywhere as bad as what they did to you,” he answered, brushing it away fully. “They gave me a sedative, that’s all.” It wasn’t a bad one, not really - enough to make his thoughts blur, but little more.

Arthur exhaled, slow. His gaze dipped some to Kane’s form, again; ‘uncomfortable’. Hurting. Bruises that Arthur couldn’t see, a tension, a way Kane likely had to watch his breathing; Arthur understood injuries to a fairly intimate level.

“I brought things to help,” he said, having semi-forgotten that he had already said it before. “Ointments, balms - stuff that’ll help with the bruises, with the pain.”

He had set the bag close enough to reach without having to evict Kane from his lap, glass at tin clinking inside of the closed canvas. He opened it carefully, one-handed as to keep the other around Kane, revealing the array of supplies within. Dark jars, bandages, patches, a couple small ice packs.

He didn’t touch any of it, yet, though, his focus returning to Kane. “You’ll need to take your shirt off - I can help, if that’s easier.” He wouldn’t do it without permission, of course - but he knew that it might be hard, with the bruises being where they were.

“I brought tea, too. Something that’ll… it should help.” He could barely remember what he’d put in it, unfortunately. He had made it mindfully, though - and he trusted himself to have made something good for the other.

Somewhere within himself, in the far depths of his somewhat-focused mind, part of Kane knows that this - the embrace as a whole, the way he melts against Harrow's body, is held in such a gentle way in return - isn't exactly a common thing to happen between two men; Once again, a concept that presents itself, knowledge that does not belong to him but to Kane instead - causing him to become aware of this, of the fact that they're doing something currently that's considered very intimate, personal on top of it all.

And yet, despite it being the case, neither of them seems to be bothered by it. Kane soaks it all up like a sponge, takes all of the kindness he can get - takes, takes, takes - and Harrow himself does not pull back, nor does he act as if he's experiencing strong discomfort. At least as far as Kane, not-Kane, it, can tell, having only been around for a rather short amount of time, needing to figure out how everything works still...

Including people. Including emotions. Including being... alive.

But he feels that hand on his back moving, feels the touch of a mouth to his temple, feels the warmth of the other, feels how he's still being held - it has to mean something, no? Should tell him that this is okay, that none of this is wrong or bad in any shape or form. Kane hopes for it to be the case, despite starting to feel a little bit sheepish; It's very intimate, very close, and yet he would rather be here, in Dr. Harrow's arms, than anywhere else at this very moment.

A breath, a focus sharpening when sudden words are spoken, gentle and soft - a poem being recited once more, the meaning of it cutting through Kane's chest and adding itself to what is already there, inside his ever-growing heart. While he did require a bit of additional assistance to understand the meaning last time this had happened between them, there's no need for such right now---

Because Kane, not-Kane, it, understands. It gets the message, the weight, the emotional reaction that's caused by such spoken syllables - warm and affectionate, offering a truth that he can take, can use on his own.

Despite having calmed down quite a lot, it prompts a new shudder to roll along a tired body - so intense that even Harrow will be able to feel it happening against his frame, his hands - and Kane swallows, eyes remaining closed for a little longer as he allows that sensation to wash over him. Not in a tidal wave this time, no, but rather in a soft roll of comfort - like he's sitting in a bathtub, being surrounded by way too many soap bubbles.

It smells of chamomile and peppermint - perhaps a dash of honey, if he's feeling extra fancy.

They move, in the end, pulling apart just enough for a hand to continue to trail through those dark locks; The gesture of it carrying more than Kane had expected it to, which he cannot quite explain... but it does make him feel even warmer, the way those fingers brush away one of those curls from his forehead, tucking some behind his ear; Dark eyes finally flick open but remain heavy-lidded as they glance at the man in return, with Kane now sitting a bit more upright, just a tiny bit, and holding the weight of his own head again rather than to allow it to rest elsewhere.

They're still so close - he has to swallow, inhale, before he forces that exhale that follows to be long and slow instead of sudden and quick.

Did you sleep?

"...I don't know." Its the truth spoken in something airy, breathy, not much strength left behind within the tone of his own voice. "...I think that something has happened at some point, though; I don't remember lying down... But I opened my eyes while lying on my side."

A simple conclusion being made, which is all Kane has to offer. hHe blinks slowly, then presses his lips into a tight line - the cut on his bottom lip stinging as he does - before a shake of his head follows, accompanied by dark brows knitting the faintest bit---

"I don't want to sleep. I don't need to." It's a lie, but made of fear; Kane's far too worried about letting go, of waking up next to another man. Even though Harrow promises to stay - what if they won't let him? Kane does not want to miss it, the moment they make him leave...

A swallow, shimmering eyes falling away from blue ones for a second before returning.

"I can't, anyways. It's too uncomfortable." The pain, he means - his bruised ribs and side, sore lungs, aching nose and stinging lip. Even his scalp is stinging a little because of how hard that security guard had pulled on his hair---

Another blink and those brows knit in further, gaze suddenly increasing in focus - something thoughtful within dark pupils, something... wary. Skeptical. Because Kane spots it, finally, now that he's looking at Dr. Harrow so closely, with such intent...

"---What did they do?" Not asking whether they did anything to begin with, instead demanding to know what it was that they did. He does not even question the possibiliy itself, knows that something must have been going on; Harrow's eyes are red-rimmed and pupils dilated, looking differently than usual...

#\\ kane despite being like a week old: dude I think this shit is gay :/#\\ its not gay bc kane has his socks on #\\ arthur meanwhile: this isnt gay he is just an objectively handsome man #offdxty #𓁹 || What Remains Repeats \\ Private Verse [ Dr. Harrow ]#𓂋|| Something Far More Deeply Interfused [ Harrow & Kane ]

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imnotjustreadingg · 8 hours ago

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a/n: Another imagine, this time based on another thing i like very much. (i know carlos is not in Ferrari anymore, but i need this phrase ☺️☺️)

can't be a bad boy

Bucky sat on the couch, shoulders tense, staring at the paused screen. The podcast’s title glared back at him, “Real Men Don’t Court — Why Women Like Rude Men.” He replayed the last few minutes in his head. The way the two men laughed, how confidently they spoke, like they knew something he didn’t. “You gotta be cold, man. Don’t text back right away. Don’t hold doors. Don’t apologize. Women like that edge. They don’t respect the ‘nice guys’. They walk all over them.”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening. He’d done the opposite of all that with you. He tried so hard to be better, to unlearn all the violent instincts, to be patient and gentle. You helped him with that. You made him feel like being kind was safe again. But what if these guys were right?

That evening, when you came home, Bucky seemed off. He didn’t get up to greet you. No smile. No little kiss on the cheek like he usually gave without thinking. “Hey,” you said, stepping into the living room and setting your bag down. “You okay?” He shrugged, eyes flicking to the screen before he quickly turned it off. “M’fine.” You tilted your head. “You sure? You seem… weird.” He hesitated. “You don’t think I’m… too soft or something?” You blinked. “Soft?” “You know. Like... too nice. Too… boring.” His voice dropped a little. “Do you like that I open doors for you? That I say sorry too much? Or do you think I should be more… rough, I dunno. Like, less available or something.” You stared at him for a second, confused. Then your eyes dropped to the computer near him, and it clicked. “Did you watch something?”

He glanced away. “Just some podcast.” You sat next to him and took his hand. “Bucky. Where’s this coming from?” He swallowed hard. “They said women don’t respect guys who treat them too well. That they get bored of it. That it’s better to act like you don’t care too much.” You were quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. Then you leaned closer, eyes searching his. “Is that what you think I want?” He looked genuinely torn. “I don’t know. I just-I’ve been trying so hard to do things right. To treat you right. But what if that’s not… what you really want?” You squeezed his hand. “Bucky, listen to me. I like how you treat me. I love that you open doors and say sorry and care about how I feel. You know what that tells me? That you respect me. That you want me to feel safe and loved and seen.” He looked down, his shoulders relaxing just a little. You added, voice softer, “Those guys on the podcast don’t know me. But you do. You’ve known me for years. You think I’d fall in love with someone who plays games with me?” His eyes finally met yours, vulnerable but full of quiet hope. “No,” he said. “You wouldn’t.” “Exactly,” you smiled. “So keep being you. The you that learns how to use a computer just to send me dumb memes at 2 a.m. The you that asks if I got home safe. The you that says good morning like it’s a prayer.” He laughed, a little choked up. “That sounds so dramatic.” “Yeah, well, I like my men dramatic,” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his. He let out a long breath and smiled, real this time. “Okay. No more internet philosophers for me.” “Good. Stick to cat videos and recipe hacks.” “Deal.”

After some times, podcast almost forgotten, you said something. “I have to say you’re rough to me sometimes…” you said casually, leaning back into the couch. Bucky froze. His breath hitched, eyes going wide as his mind began to spiral. Did I lash out in my sleep again? Did I say something awful? Did I hurt her? God, no. His voice cracked as he asked, “Did I…? Did I hurt you?” You looked over and saw the panic brewing in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched, the way he pulled his hand away like he might’ve burned you. Your heart softened immediately. “…In bed,” you added, lips twitching into a small smirk. There was a full beat of silence before Bucky blinked. Once. Twice. Then he exhaled, like he hadn’t been breathing at all—and dropped his head into his hands with a groan. “Doll,” he muttered, voice muffled. “You’re gonna give me a damn heart attack.” You laughed, scooting closer. “Sorry, sorry,” you said through your grin, nudging him with your knee. “I couldn’t help it.” He peeked through his fingers and gave you a tired glare, but it didn’t hold—it melted into a sheepish, boyish smile. “You scared the hell outta me,” he admitted. “I know. That’s why I did it.” You kissed the side of his head gently, then leaned your chin on his shoulder. “But really, Buck. You are rough sometimes. But in the ways I like. You’re gentle where it counts. You’ve never made me feel unsafe. Ever.” He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in tighter. “I just never wanna be that guy again, y’know?” “I know,” you whispered. “And you’re not. You never will be. Not with me.” He kissed the top of your head, slowly, like he was sealing in the truth of your words. After a long pause, he said quietly, “So… you like me being a little rough in bed?” You smiled against his shirt. “I like you, all of you. Even when you’re a little cocky and grabby and like to pin me down.” His ears turned red immediately. “Well… now I’m gonna start thinking about that every time I try to be respectful.” You giggled. “Respectful and hot. Look at you, Barnes. A modern man.” He grinned against your hair. “Damn right.”

The doorbell rang, echoing softly through the apartment. You looked up, a little surprised. “Did you order something?” Bucky just shrugged, still sprawled on the couch. “Dunno. Probably for you.” You raised an eyebrow, suspicious but amused. “You’re not gonna get it?” He stretched dramatically. “Nah, I’m comfy.” Rolling your eyes with a smile, you padded over to the door in your socks and cracked it open. A man stood there holding a bouquet. Fresh wildflowers in soft pinks, whites, and a few little sprigs of lavender. The petals looked like something out of a dream. “Flowers for Y/N,” the delivery guy said with a polite smile, offering the bouquet. You blinked, surprised, then took them carefully. “Thank you…” Closing the door behind you, you turned around and looked straight at Bucky. He was sitting there with that telltale smirk tugging at his lips but his eyes were a little shy, like he wasn’t sure if he’d done too much or not enough. You lifted the bouquet, lips curving.

“You couldn’t be a bad boy even if you tried, Bucky.”

His smirk broke into a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… thought maybe you’d like ‘em.” You walked back over and sat beside him again, resting the flowers in your lap. “You’re lucky I love the soft stuff.” He nudged your knee gently. “You like the rough stuff too, remember?” You laughed, leaning over to kiss him sweetly. “Only from you, Barnes.” His cheeks flushed just a little, but he leaned back into the couch with a proud little glint in his eye like maybe being the soft kind of strong wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x oc #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes smut #avengers smut #marvel smut #the winter soldier #f1

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cornflowershade · 18 hours ago

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THK NEW YORK FANMEET !!

we are here! I have slept and am now fully prepared to describe and gush to y'all about my time yesterday. 💖✨ Thankfully I thought to bring a little notebook with me and journaled between benefits starting after the hi-touch, so I'll actually have a better time remembering things and my initial reactions hehe. Though I have plenty to add this morning :)

ALRIGHT so I arrived earlier than expected, a before 11am and y'all I did not actually realize we would waiting outside after check-in and not get let in until an hour before our first benefit. I was VIP and was able to check in within two seconds at an outdoor table which was nice. They said my group could head inside at 12:15 for our hi-touch at 1pm (though that got a bit delayed) so basically me and everyone else without soundcheck tickets were out in the courtyard. I also needed the bathroom the whole time lmao. THANKFULLY it wasn't as hot as it was initially supposed to be. Still hot tho. And my choice of outfit did not help, which I knew going in but fashion ok fashion!! I hadn't had time to do my hair either so I'd left it down for the event, but put it in a random bun while we waited because y'all i could NOT. There were a ton of people handing out freebies, little gifts they had made, had printed, etc. which was so sweet!! I got a lot of stuff, and here's a little pic of my favorites throughout the day:

(Some of this was given to me before the event, some after when I was leaving)

When I wasn't getting handed sweet gifts I was kinda just standing around but eventually one of the very few benches had a free spot and I swept it up, eventually making conversation with some girl who was an FK fan so we passed the time talking about their shows.

Eventually I got inside for the Hi-Touch (and finally got to use the bathroom lol). A moment though for how GORGEOUS THE VENUE WAS because that theater omg !! Literally the second I walked in with the crowd I said excitedly out loud, to no-one in particular: "oh it's so beautiful!"

upper left + lower right are from upstairs hallway with the bathrooms, lower left + upper right are the ceiling/walls in the auditorium!

Alright so Hi-Touch! I found my seat to wait and ended up next to a really nice girl from out-of-state who became my bff for the evening. I really lucked out with that, we had a lot of fun together!

As Hi-Touch started we were discussing whether to record or not because they made some announcement like "you can record this and it is the only benefit you can record!" We weren't sure bc we kinda just wanted to have the moment but we watched everyone on stage before us, and it was going so FAST that eventually we decided, whatever we'll just record it. And we both lowkey regretted that ngl bc it was too distracting. One cannot have adhd and focus on all that at once. I also had in my head that I wanted to say things to the actors and wasn't sure I'd have time so I was really focused on that, actually so much so that by the time I got to FK (of course it was FK) my camera was barely even pointed at them pfff. Just swung off to the side as my brain was overcome by interacting with them. I mean who can focus on anything but them c'mon. And, okay, seeing them?? When they came on stage my first thought was, hilariously, "THEY'RE SO HD!" haha. I think I said that aloud. They were just so real and there and crisp idk man all I could phrase it as was 'they're so hd' 😂 (spoken like the video editor i am haha) And they were also all SO SO PRETTY. Like how are you all SO PRETTY? I already KNOW they are pretty. (And FK are so CUTE!!) This is obvious fact!! But they are just as gorgeous in person and I must state this for the record.

I was doing so well but the nerves finally struck when walking up the stage steps. Your girl was trying so hard to keep her wits about her. First-up was Dunk. I was planning to say "sawadee ka," to him which I did, but I felt a little bad when I said it right away because he had already started saying "hello" to me which I didn't realize, so I accidentally interrupted him and he sort of just cut himself off and just smiled. Sorry dunk... 😅

He was super chipper though. Look at him!

ey look he's holding my hand! this is a thing that happened! lower right babeyyy

Joong. I was originally planning to tell him "i love your photography" but it was too quick passing him and I didn't think I'd have time so I just gave another "sawadee ka." I don't think he said anything back, he was very rushed and distracted—literally already looking at the next person while touching my hand. But what gets me the most is the face he made when he initially saw me. Sir what is going on in your head??? At first I really thought I was confusing this boy somehow. I do not know how to feel about this expression. But I do find it very funny to look at.

ah the.... joys? of being perceived? (and no you can't pay me to crop out khao)

In retrospect, he was obviously looking at my outfit and when I really pause the frames (as you do. as a totally normal individual) I don't think it was a bad reaction particularly (look, his mouth does still look smiley on the edges! ..right?) I think he was just trying to take everything in and very fast—based on his eye-line he was specifically parsing the sparkly corset-top that was over my dress. Which is fair. Later in the event he said something about NY fashion so I'll be coming back to this.

But one final frame for Joong. I think here the confusion has slightly dissipated and he's smiling a tad? I will say for my sake that this is a split second of appreciation happening. Let me pretend.

Okay then we had my BOYS. MY BOYS. FK. OH GOD. Here there are less good shots because again the camera was the very last thing on my mind. Oddly I wasn't as nervous as I expected to be when interacting with them? Perhaps it's because they were so friendly, but likely it was actually a mix of everything happening so fast and me being so locked in on what I wanted to say.

Khao took my hand and I looked at him in his glowy lil face, and said with all my kindest sincerity: "i love your acting 🥺"

He tilted his head and gave me an appreciative smile in return. Might've said thank you, I literally do not remember. Also his smile is not on camera and I wish I'd been less frazzled because I can't quite picture it anymore either. But according to my journal, he made a "very sweet face." He was touched, so even if I don't remember it very much, that is what matters. <3

HOWEVER. From before that. I do have in frame the first few seconds of Khao seeing and LOOKING AT MEEEE.

this face was at meee 🥺 agh look at this sweetheart !!

last part where he was in frame whatsoever, reaching for my hand

To First, I also said "I love your acting." But right before that, he looked at me and started smiling

but as soon as he heard what I said, that particular smile stopped forming, immediately interrupted by lil soft eyes as I was greeted by another head tilt and very sweetly appreciative smile. Funnily enough, he actually started that reaction before I talked to him. So either he heard me speak to Khao and was touched that I gave his bestie a compliment, or he thought I was already talking to him since we were so close. But the next moment I did take his hand, look at him, and tell him the exact same. At which point I think I recall him saying thank you but it was so loud I couldn't quite hear it. Saw his mouth move though. A lot of his frames are very blurred but you can kinda see the smile he gave in the veryyyy last frame, even if he's more than halfway out of the shot. very sweet. Look at those blurry sparkly eyes.

All of that went by SO SO fast, and it's hilarious because as I was walking back off the steps I immediately said to my new seatmate friend— "i don't remember that." Which was SO TRUE. I have picture stills but when I tell you that immediately after—perhaps even during??—and definitely now... I have zero, I mean ZERO, recollection of actually touching any of their hands. (Or talking to them, really.) Might've touched air for all I knew. Do not recall physically feeling literally anything. Guess I was more focused on their faces? Maybe the nerves eliminated my sense of physical perception asdfg

What's so funny is I knew from the Brazil meet talk on tumblr that the boys had been grabbing hands not just giving a high-five type deal, but when I saw the people before me I was like, "oh that's going so fast I guess they aren't doing that this time." So I fully went in to just high-five and afterwards was lamenting that I didn't actually hold their hands more bc my newfound buddy was saying they did that with her. And this goes to show how much I legitimately was not processing the moment because when I watch my video back—at least with JoongDunk, sadly I can't see what happened with FK but I presume it was the same—THEY LITERALLY SHOOK MY HAND. Hands are being HELD! And I literally didn't know it until I got home 😂

Even though my camerawork didn't catch much of my own interaction, the same thing actually happened with my seatmate's video and because MY video was tilted to the left, I actually caught all 4 of her full interactions on camera, so I was glad at least that I could send it to her :) And she also cheered me up by skimming through frame-by-frame and pointing out things like "look right there, you can clearly see the second Khao looks at you" and "look First is reaching for your hand!" She made me feel better lol and now those frames will live on my blog forever. That said. I still do not feel like I have actually ever been directly perceived by them. Like idk sounds fake if you ask me. I did eventually feel a lovely sense of connection with them though, and that was later—from the crowd. We'll get there.

As the four were leaving the stage post-hi-touch, there was a very fun moment where Khao turned back towards auditorium and everyone watching and gave a cute sassy lil smooch at us all. Hehe.

They soon came back for autographs and what we hadn't expected was that we got to just. Stay in the audience. And look at them during it! So we chatted and commentated and I used the time to journal a bit too. There was also this lady on staff who was. To be honest. So irritable lol. Every time there was a new instruction her go-to was to just yell it angrily at us. She very quickly got fed up with phones and during the autograph session was like everyone put your phones away you cannot record!!! which was kinda funny bc nobody we saw was actually. Recording? Just being on their phones? She did not seem to care, and instead yelled something like "people paid for this!!" to which we (a few of us in neighboring seats) sorta joked quietly with each other "yeah and we're "people"! we paid for this." Idk maybe she was having a rough day. benefit of the doubt and all that.

Apparently one of the other security members was laughing about the whole thing as it went on and felt more absurd. But anyhow, photo ops came next so we got in line! and chatted with the nice people who were next to us. also the whole time they were playing other OSTs and thai songs as background music (when sadistic came on later during a game segment of the show Joong started doing the dance moves hehe) and that was nice bc I kept recognizing songs from different shows which made me feel very happy and in my element. While we were all in the photo-op line a Pluto OST came on and I had to geek aloud about that for a moment. xD

So, PHOTO OPS

It again felt so fast. My seatmate friend was in the same photo as me and we were both happy about that! We stood behind the boys who were all seated in chairs. I was kinda lost for what to do. I was just staring at the backs of their hair, low-key wishing I could see their faces for a moment because that felt more assuring. I had no idea how to pose or what to do, but mostly I was distracted by the fact that I was right next to Dunk's shoulder. Like RIGHT THERE. Like wut? And I was distracted by the vague passing thought "i could put my hand on his shoulder" but my actual thinking brain kicked in .02 seconds later and reminded me that that is Not A Thing To Do because Boundaries which I Care About lol and then I was like ok back on track what do you do in a photo and then I looked up and was like Ah Yes you Smile in a photo and by the time I remembered this I think they were already taking the picture so I'm fairly certain that I'm probably in the midst of starting to smile and making some uncertain confused in-between face lmao. Wish me the best on that but I will honestly be surprised if it turned out good lolol. They were rushing us through like crazy so I think a lot of us weren't really ready or expecting the moment the took the picture. But tbh I also don’t think they counted down for us? Then off we went...

Earlier my friend had told me how she'd told First "i love you" in the Hi-Touch and how he'd said it back and I'd been like, ohhh if I ever do another one of these I SHOULD SAY THAT. Because, you know. And then I was like, to heck with it I'm just gonna say it as I leave the photo op if I can. So I did, as I was walking off, and while he didn't say it back First did fully turn in his seat to see who spoke, looked right at me and I think said thanks and gave me a wai because I think I gave him a wai first but again y'all. My memory. Doesn't work. Head empty.

We returned to the crowd to watch the remainder of the photo-ops. For one photo, Dunk lifted an arm and flexed his muscles and a bunch of the crowd started yelling. Very funny.

Around the photo-op time, things also took a bit of a turn. If you know anything about this meet you might think I'm about to bring up First—but I'm actually not. (Yet.) I am talking about JOONG.

Who as the photos progressed, looked SO freaking done. With just, everyone and everything. He looked so tired y'all. We were like, someone give this boy a nap. Give this man a BLANKET and send him to SLEEP. So yeah, Joong looked SOOO tired and like he just wanted to go home. Maybe people were pushing boundaries up there, maybe he was just sleepy, maybe it was the staff rushing everything so fast—I have no idea. (For some photos even the boys weren't quite ready, in one First was kinda confused like 'wait we're done already?') But like, people were trying to engage Joong in poses and he was actively just. Ignoring them. Kinda too bad, though I'm not judging him. They'd been running for so many days in a row. Jet-lag plus multiple planes and three fanmeets in three countries in a few days, being up early for NYC meet and interacting with so many people all day long... god it must be a lot. I could never. By the time the 4:1 photos came around he seemed to be feeling a little better about things though and got into the groove again. Looked like he started having some fun.

But also, remember the angry staff lady? Yeah well at this point she was apparently up-to-here with it bc she yells at the crowd from the stage, where she is standing a few feet from First [they must've been between group and 4:1 bc he was standing] that if she saw one more phone outside of a bag she would remove that person from the room (might've implied 'and not let you back' i don't recall.) And poor First is just standing there with this lost lil startled look on his face that conveyed a combination of "you intimidate me" and "...what are you doing to my fans?"

But back to the fun stuff. Joong, who as I said was having fun again, did a pose with this girl who asked to stare into his eyes and he leaned SOOO close to her face and they're just staring at each other all firey-like and the whole crowd went wild for it haha. Good for her. xD Also I never noticed Dunk is taller than Joong but, he is!

Annnnd this is the point that I wrote in my notebook that "First looks sleepy now too... Something happened with First..."

He started using one of those scent inhalers from his pocket and vaguely looked like he was feeling allergic to something. We were actually speculating that it had something to do with all the perfume in the air, because even in the crowd some of us were having a little bother breathing due to the levels of it building up from all the attendees. This was apparently not the case though. Anyway, he was really not looking good and it was getting more and more obvious. Then all of a sudden, as the Shot to the Heart people (you know, those people who paid $100 for a 4:1 polaroid. This is not a judgement. If they didn't sell out in 6 seconds I might have got one too let's be real) are waiting in line to get pics, his cast-mates take his shoulders and walk him off stage. We were obviously really worried about him and hoping he was okay. So all four boys had left, and there was no word at all from staff about what was going on for a long time, either. Everyone was left rather confused and very concerned for him.

Eventually they all came back, all of them looked much more refreshed. First didn't look 100% better but he did look a LOT better. First was very apologetic. Joong looked WAY more energetic. They also all had gum or mints or smth now. Glad they got a rest break and some food/water probably.

When the photos were done and they left the stage for real, Joong hovered around one of the staff and was checking out his tattoos with much interest.

We took the next opportunity to go use the restroom and buy overpriced water etc but also to get me a freebie that was at a front table in the lobby that I hadn't seen before. Because, okay— the girl I met showed me what she got there and I was LOSING IT laughing. So when she said there was plenty more out there, I had to get one. Y'all, Joong would love this bahaha. Someone tweet him a photo of one.

I was like oH GOD. HELP. it was so funny. it's awful and it's wonderful. and they put it on a napkin. on a NAPKIN. oh my goddd stop

Alright moving on 😂 it turned out my seatmate friend had been in the wrong seat by accident, so sadly we couldn't watch the show together but that was okay, we had something else to focus all our attention on, after all. Thus, it was back to my seat (10th row can you believe it??) for the moment everyone had been waiting for......

THE SHOW.

The show was my favorite part. Hands down. It was during that time that I immediately knew this had been the best decision of my life.

Now, I am usually referred to as a quiet person. I can get a little loud if I'm being silly and having fun, but all in all, I am still—generally speaking—a sort of Quiet Person. When I tell you I SCREAMED MY LUNGS OUT. Full disclosure! I have actually never screamed at an event ever! I was like, I am here and I'm having a blast and I am going to go FULL fangirl mode and show these boys ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD.

Like, I get it now. I get why the boys love a loud audience. It was so fun. There was such a connection between them and the crowd, it was a way of communicating y'know? To answer their questions and respond to what they were doing and to show support and it was just so so lovely, and the vibes in the room were immaculate and hyped and happy and glorious—and FKJD were there and amazing and sharing this moment with us—and I don't have words to fully express how magical the whole thing was. I was on a high from it the whole time. I get concert people now.

The opening song when the lights went up had only Joong, Dunk and Khao at the start so I was a little worried about First, but he ran on soon after, just in time for his verse.

I'd learned as many lyrics as I could the night before and that morning, and actually managed to slide my way through a lot more than i expected. Anything I didn't know I just faked very well or cheered pff. I'd focused especially on Destroy Love with lyrics learning—which was soooo much fun to scream along with Khao. He did so well—they all did—all their singing was soooo good, and he was having such fun being a rockstar up there, of course, and the energy was great.

I had also focused on learning My Fuel. I actually knew some of that chorus already. Again, I didn't have all of it down but I scraped along my very best. I love First's song and it's his first solo OST so you knowww I had to give this one my best. Especially knowing First hadn't been feeling well, I gave that song extra. We cheered so hard earlier for him too, because he was apologizing for causing delays and ofc we only cared that he was okay and wanted him to know that. I was determined to be part of a crowd that made that boy feel loved, which very much worked . And LET ME TELL YOU, there are few better feelings than making First Kanaphan feel loved, I have to say. I get you, Khao. I get you. And bruh First got so emotional over it. I think that's when Khao said, "shoutout to my man, First Kanaphan." Atp First was just sobbing.

Ok back to My Fuel— Khao comes on stage to join him near the end, their first duet of the evening. And two seconds in, right after walking on, Khao just drops down his mic and starts crying. First walks right over to him and embraces him and it was really sweet. Look I figured they might cry at some point but I wasn't expecting it so soon haha. (Btw did they cry during the Brazil and Mexico meets? I wouldn't be surprised. Someone tell me lol)

Then Khao is like singing while choking back tears and First tries to join back in but can't and keeps giving up and they sung a little but eventually they just gave up and were all emotional together as the background track played. Afterwards they were like "sorry guys" but. We are here for them and the FirstKhao-ness of it all. That's one of my favorite recordings I took lmao.

There were talking segments that were a lot of fun, JoongDunk are SO HILARIOUS AND ENTERTAINING OMG. I loved them. (All of them, Joong included, were also in very great spirits for the whole show.) I do wish FK would've talked more, I think they didn't bc of the language barrier perhaps but they were really set on speaking English. But I enjoyed every moment nonetheless.

Joong was asked about the NYC fans and he said "you're all such pretty people" and said "I love your outfits and your makeup." <- circling back to that Hi-Touch moment—for the sake of my little fashion soul—I will be believing that I was included in this statement. (look it's not THAT unlikely okay. I mean a lot of people came up to compliment my outfit so i have some social proof here!! lol. thank u btw <3 I was also complimented by a totally random girl in the grand central bathroom on my way home which was very sweet hehe.)

So anyway I will be taking this compliment from Joong as if I were in his mental target-audience. I mean we can't prove i wasn't... Joong called me fashionable and pretty so there. 😂💖 And being funny as he is, Joong followed his compliment to the crowd by adamantly telling us, "you ATE" !!

(Speaking of eating, they also explained that First had been feeling nauseous earlier, Joong said it was bc of food or something. Thankfully he looked a lot better when the show came around. The whole thing was also delayed half an hour so maybe they got some extra rest during that time as well. Also we got so little info when it was running late like. First, he's fine. But fanmeet management could've been better ngl)

The boys were asked about their dream roles, and Joong was like "First should answer first. Because he's First." Haha. So First answered first and said "I would like to be a cat or a dog, so I can just go *meoooow* or *ruff ruff* and not need to learn a script" LOL. Khao was next and said, gesturing at First, "my dream role, I would like to be this cat's manager." 😂

Dunk brought back the prince on a horse thing and said he wants to find and fall for a mermaid that is pretty and cute (Joong) who in response, immediately sung the melody from the Little Mermaid (y'know the one where she loses her voice or whatever.) That was really funny. Joong then said his real answer is to be in a musical so he can perform in "a place like this" and he looked very bright-eyed at the setting all around us (remember how pretty the place was? yeah.) and then he showed off his very talented singing with funny snippets of different operas and stuff hehe.

When asked how they needed to prepare for their THK roles, Khao's response by some logic was "I needed to prepare for P'Kant's tattoos. They look really cool... On his body."

Dunk said he needed to practice saying "good morning, krap!" every day and he and Joong did a funny riffing about that and then tried making us all say it in the audience and were like no no no your delivery is all wrong. Dunk also added, "OH! And the crop tops!" and said he had never expected to wear crop tops before ha.

There were some different little games with the audience, one girl won and got to go up on stage with them for a bit. They had more lovely performances and Q&As. It was so so good. At some point they did an MSP song which I didn't expect but it's actually in one of my playlists so I was able to sing along with all the rest, everyone was super jazzed for that and based on the sound levels I think more people knew the words for it too.

Eventually it was time to say goodbye and it felt like the time went by so fast !!

The lights went down and that was that 🥺

I recorded everything so that'll be up on my vidding youtube very soon. I made sure to not watch through the screen though, i wanted to focus on how everything looked right in front of me and on experiencing that. just glanced up every so often. so the cam might drift from time to time? but from what I can tell it didn't do that for the most part so yay. It might not be the most high res but it's not crazy far from the stage either. play it small and it'll look fine haha

I had chatted with that girl from earlier and we planned to take the subway together instead of walking alone there, so I ended up with her and a bunch of other girls she met who were all super nice. First we hung outside the venue for a bit with the crowd, one chipper staff member wanted everybody in a video for starstruck media (oh speaking of podcasts, earlier on in the day I had a question for a volunteer and went up to ask two of them before realizing it was the two girls from the 'let's talk bl' podcast haha so I told them I recognized them.) Anyway then this dude was like "don't tell anybody I did this" (sorry man you'll never guess what I'm about to do) and did a yell call thingy so we all called it back and then he beeline ran back into the building, but some ppl caught his name so we all kinda just started yelling it and then he came back out and took a video smiling and twirling around in a circle of random concert-goers who continued chanting his name. All to say, everyone was in a VERY good mood after the concert and also VERY not tired of screaming about things. 😂 (as you might have guessed, my voice is rather rough today but fam I DO NOT CARE) We also got more freebies given to us, I got handed a little print of Joong, the one where his shirt is unbuttoned lmao and everyone around me was being jealous of what i got pff

Then I went off with concert-friend-girl and all the other girls and we spent like 30 minutes on the subway laughing and talking about how great the concert was and talking about FK and JD shows. There was one girl on the subway who had obviously gotten a freebie print from the same person I did at the end, and hers was of Joong but as Fadel in the THK scene where uhhhh. Well the one where he does a strip tease. And she had it. Taped. To her forehead. So whenever we looked over he was just staring at us and we couldn't help but laugh and she laughed too. I would've gone to dinner with the group but it was getting late and y'all I wasn't in bed until 2am as it was. So instead I said bye and they gave me advice on how to travel where I was going. On next subway, I was sat next to a girl who also got off at my stop and as we left the train I noticed we both had concert posters and we were like omg wait you came from there too?? so then we walked together for a while and gushed about it all. (social anxiety WHO. this event did something to my soul. i was thriving. usually i'm a shy extrovert but we really dropped the shy yesterday)

And then when I got home I gushed all over again to my family and showed them a bunch of videos xD

Back when I bought this ticket I sort of thought of it as an early birthday present for myself (i mean i would've gotten it regardless but) and when I tell you I could not have had a better gift EVER.

I MISS IT ALREADY AND I MISS THE BOYS ALREADY !!

If they ever come back, I will go in a freakinggggg HEARTBEAT. The way I just want to go to every event they have from now on ha. I'm not even kidding when I say I think this was perhaps the most fun and happy event I have ever been to ever. The amount of joy I got from this PLEASEEE. Literally when we were outside the venue I was smiling and jumping up and down from all the happy energy that I could not contain xD

I loved it so much and I love them !! We got such a great show from them and what felt even happier was the sense that we made it a great show experience for them in return. They seemed very touched. I'm so happy that venue was so full of love for them all. And god we need a way for FKJD to keep performing together make this happen somehow ! this era is unparalleled ! (as if we don't know this already) I feel so lucky to have gotten a ticket.

Anyway. This is probably sooo long at this point. This was such such a treasured memory and I wanted to write it out in full. If you came this far, thank you for reading hehe. I hope they come back to NY someday and I cannot wait for it <3

okie. off to go edit some footage together. maybe i'll share some fav moments individually on here too, some of the ones I mentioned in this post. :)

#firstkhao #joongdunk #fkjd #thk #thk nyc #mine

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atsadi-shenanigans · 2 days ago

Text

FSBE 45 - Terms and Conditions May Apply

You learn stuff.

On AO3.

A demon calling something profane. Huh. That cannot be good.

You look to Astarion, whose face clouds over. One part fear, yeah, but one part…one part lit up, the lightning in the storm. A spark in a mine shaft.

Unease coils tight.

“It promises to be a marvelous ceremony,” Raphael says. “Very elaborate, incredibly ancient, and entirely diabolical. If he completes the rite, Cazador will become a new kind of being: the Vampire Ascendant.”

He’s phrasing it like some old 90’s call-in sex line advertisement (or the videos you seen of those on the internet). And he’s having way too much fun doing it. Going whole hog on his inner theater kid, with arm waving that’d put a court jester to shame.

“All the strengths of his vampiric form will be amplified, and alongside them, he will enjoy the luxuries of the living. The arousals and appetites will return to him, and unlike you, my dear spawn, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun.”

Jesus, he’s got Astarion hooked. Practically thrumming on the end of a fishing line. You think of all the mornings you stumbled outta your tent—back when y’all barely talked; sweet jesus, there was a time when you was all but avoiding each other, huh? You’d find him basking in the morning sun. No matter where y’all were, if there was a patch of light, the man was in it.

The dread churns into the first twinge of cold sick.

“I assume this don’t come with no strings attached?” you say. Hoping Astarion hears that part. Hoping you can throw something, anything into the bullshit Raphael is spinning.

And the way the devil looks at you. Not tinged with barely-concealed contempt or annoyance, this man is gleeful. He’s loving this. A professional shit-stirrer with his best stick in hand.

“The ritual has a price, as all things worthwhile do,” he sleazes (that ain’t a real verb, but it sure is now). “Lord Cazador will need to sacrifice a number of souls, including all of his vampiric spawn, if he is to succeed.”

It’s a slap to the face with a frozen cut of meat. You knew something bad would happen if that murderous fuckface got his claws on Astarion again. To hear it spelled out like this, and for…for this. Killing Astarion again so he can, what, eat some fucking cake? Take a fucking stroll in the park?

“Motherfucker,” you say.

And something else joins the niggling in the back of your head. Something about Raphael’s phrasing. “Including.” Implying…?

“Imagine how he felt, then, when one of those precious spawn simple disappeared into thin air?” Raphael says.

Apoplectic, if the fucker’s obvious joy is any indication. That smelly bastard is trying not to outright giggle, ain’t he.

And Astarion looks…bored. You see him like that a lot. Mostly when somebody is freaking out or you’re freaking out or something bad is happening. Like he wasn’t paying attention—which he says he don’t care about other people, so you never really questioned it even as it made you want to slap him upside the head. But this. This should not be boring him. He should not be checking out on this.

Not…intentionally.

“The only missing ingredient,” the devil says, lifting a finger and spiraling it to point to Astarion, “is you. Your scars bind you to it. To him. Your soul will set off a very wave of death, bringing Cazador his twisted new life. And that, my tragic and toothsome friend, is that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere.”

Shit stirred, he folds himself into a stupid fucking bow. You wonder if you could get just one sucker punch in before he snapped your whole hand off at the wrist.

He puffs away in a robitussin stink cloud, and you hope he sees you waving the air in an attempt to clear the stink from your face.

Astarion still looks frozen. Just a crackle around the edges, mostly in the tiny tremors of his voice, “He’ll never leave me alone. I didn’t think he would when I was just one more wretched toy for him to play with. But if I’m the key to the power he craves…he’ll hunt me to the edges of Faerun.”

Said like a man marked. A man hunted. And haunted

“Cazador’s a fucking piece of shit and we’re all gonna help you murder the fuck outta him,” you say.

He only gives you a huff. Sounds way too resigned. Don’t look at you. “When you ran. When you got away. Did you ever feel safe, afterwards?”

It shouldn’t surprise you, that question. It’s the most logical thing to ask, all things considered. You been asked that before, especially in the early days by people who meant well. Learned—maybe wrongly—to lie about it. Because the person asking always made the correct, sympathetic facial expressions, hemmed and hawed about their worries and their platitudes or sometimes their prayers for your safety.

But that never stopped you setting a chair against every door of every room you stayed in that wasn’t your apartment. Once you figured out power tools, that did shit all to stop you installing an extra deadbolt or a lock bar. Didn’t stop you keeping the curtains closed, or later upgrading to a sheer set underneath the main ones, so people couldn’t see in but vitamin d-bearing sunlight could. Didn’t stop you scanning crowds, watching traffic in your rear-view mirrors, startling at movement behind you.

Even now, the instinct lifts itself outta hibernation now and then—though these days it’s serving to keep your ass from getting bit off by a goblin or gnoll or fucking bear.

Others talked to you about trying to do something about the Pastor and Mother. Going after the farmstead. But the second time poor Sasha took you to the cops, and they all but flat out ignored you (no crime was committed that you could prove with official documentation) you stopped. And after you smashed up a second keyboard at home, you stopped trying to track them on the internet.

You still don’t open your windows at night, no matter how hot it is. Not even on the second or third or even fourth floor.

“No,” you say.

Astarion’s jaw clenches. He lets out a slow breath. “I need to take the fight to him.”

Claim justice, or what passes for it here (that you couldn’t). Get closure (you’ll never see). Maybe that’ll help him in the long run.

“But I,” he starts. Lifts his head to finally look at you. “I can’t do that alone.”

Like you didn’t just pledge yourself to all of them—jesus, that was only a couple hours ago. “You ain’t gonna. Pretty sure even Shadowheart is down to curbstomp the fucker.”

But no smile. No confused blink over the word “curbstomp” though you’d bet all your meager supplies he’d be all edgelord delighted in the definition.

He just stands there, his hands…he’s touching his fingers. Gently, all tucked in close like he’s trying to hide it. This main ain’t never hid a damn thing about himself (couldn’t even hide that he was a vampire, except from you, because they don’t fucking exist where you come from and it was bullshit that everyone just expected you to figure that out). He’s all grandiose waving and fucked up asides and morbid jokes and, and dorkiness.

He meets your gaze.

He’s scared. The man’s more scared than you ever seen him, including them fish people…

“Darling. I,” he starts.

There’s no wind, but the air seems to still even further. Turns heavy. Sour, somehow. Some lizard brain part of you screams run. Right now. Whirl around and sprint for the inn and never find out what this is, what that awfulness in his eyes means. If you run now, all this will go away and you can both pretend it never almost happened.

But.

Something is wrong. Has been. And you know it. And he knows it, don’t he. Something with…with this. With y’all.

Didn’t that fucking devil say something about that?

So you stand there like a moron. Like a deer too stupid to get outta the way of the glaring lights of the barreling truck. Stare at Astarion as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. When he says, “I think we need to talk.”

#fsbe #these two shitheads #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #fanfic #slow burn #The Confession is imminent #bless his heart #he's trying #the results...

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daysleftofsecondterm · 12 hours ago

Note

upsetting I can’t add like the read more thing on asks but a warning for like real bad dangerous parents

my parents are being dangerous and entitled and abhorrently shitty again and acting like it’s clearly the only logical way to act to their son it’s like this weird I’m entitled to threaten you vibe I brought you here I can take you out she says that exact phrase and more and my dad just sits back and watches I asked him he says it’s not fair but life isn’t fair it’s just how it is and you deserve it because you tried to walk away when she was started to scream tonight she lost it because she says dad always gets the first plate of food I questioned why and then when she glared at me and started talking in that tone she uses before she threatens me I got scared teared up and tried to walk away that set her off

sometimes there are people who will always hurt you and it doesn’t matter how eloquent or calm you are or how nice and perfect and how much you say please and how much you keep your voice and head down it will never be enough remember if you can choose choose not to waste your time on people you know won’t listen who you know you’re unsafe with I still don’t have those appointments I need but I keep waiting and I’ll ask my mom again tomorrow she always fakes a reset every day pretending to be all cheery like nothing ever happened in the morning it’s pretty disgusting how dangerous people can fake that sort of stuff and pretend to be safe and happy they lie act all innocent and say they never yell and they’d never hurt anyone ever the only red flag I can think off with her is if anyone ever acts like they’re incapable of hurting someone else like it’s just not possible for them to abuse someone else because they’re just so perfect and innocent and they keep trying to convince you of that and get mad when you’re hesitant to believe it that’s bad news that’s a red flag that’s exactly what my mom does in public when she’s playing nice

I just really wish I could afford to move out but I can’t keep a job in my health I keep asking my friends if they can take me or they know anyone who can no luck so far either my health gets fixed soon or I get a free place and people to help me whatever comes first hopefully in time I just keep waiting I’ve been waiting my whole life waiting it all out

If anyone can help my friend here, I’m sure they’d appreciate it. Or if you know of any resources they could use I’m sure it would help.

#ask me anything #fucknugg3t #no daycount on this one

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askthe-littlepoet · 10 months ago

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oh god why did they show it to ethan

[mod coffee]

[I'm uncomfortable now, sorry for that joke man-]

[I get it and FUUUCK im not getting ask notifications]

[vut um. no idea. not sure why, someone apparently said they would (an unanswered ask that i didn't even see)]

#it's so joever chat #i NEED to think before i phrase these things #(GUYS I DIDN'T MEAN IT I DON'T LIKE ETHAN LIKE THAT)#(I MEANT NARINDER 😭😭😭😭)

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batsplat · 1 year ago

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hello!! i hope you're having an amazing day 🥹💗 do you have any vale's races masterpost?? thank you so much in advance!!

*takes deep breath* *cracks knuckles* *cracks knuckles again for good measure* *rolls up sleeves* *cracks knuckles one more time* yes of course anon. no problem. let's do this

going to forgo any extended intro as this post will be long enough as it is - though it wasn't always easy to both represent the scope of valentino's career and make picks based on actual race quality. there will be a skew towards the early years of his time in the premier class and there are a few obvious fallow spells, but I hope I've adequately done justice to most of his very, very long career... and used the asterisk system to do my quality control for me

speaking of - another rec post, another escalation of the asterisk system (luckily, we have reached the final boss of motogp and it is impossible to escalate beyond this - here are the casey and marc/dovi lists). * means check it out, ** personal fave, *** classic, **** if you watch nothing else please watch these

I also need to mention mat oxley's 'valentino rossi: all his races', which is an excellent reference book that I consulted a fair bit when compiling this list. it's especially invaluable in making sense of the early years - where the archives unfortunately are sorely lacking and I'm grateful for every bit of additional context I can get. about those early years, a little bit of housekeeping with the codes I'll use to indicate in which form these races are available:

ITA: only italian commentary, which means I've found them on youtube. this is relevant only for the very early races. there's upsettingly few of his 125cc and especially 250cc races available even when you include these (though I haven't included all the ones that are available)

HL: only highlights, which is specifically about some of the 2000-01 races. there's only three full races of valentino's first premier class title available in their entirety on the motogp website, which is unfortunate (technically four including valencia, but who would want to watch that). now, the highlights they provide for all the other races aren't actually bad - they're around twenty minutes long for the race themselves so you will see most of the exciting action and the overtakes and all that (though it does raise the question of 'why don't you just upload the full races')

NC: no commentary, and is mainly an issue for the 2002 races that are all uploaded in their entirety but... well, only a few with commentary. obviously not ideal especially with older races. my recommendation would be watching the very short highlights (aka 2-3 minutes of actual race footage with commentary) available on the website for each of the 2002 races - either after or even before watching the race - to just give yourself a better sense of what you're watching

as ever, the descriptions will frequently provide spoilers for the result. my spoiler-free top ten recommendations are: donington park 2000 suzuka 2001 phillip island 2001 brno 2003 phillip island 2003 welkom 2004 donington park 2005 laguna seca 2008 catalunya 2009 assen 2015

and here, ten more spoiler-free recs because it really is a bloody long career: sachsenring 2003 mugello 2004 phillip island 2004 jerez 2005 sachsenring 2006 sepang 2006 catalunya 2007 motegi 2010 argentina 2015 assen 2017

**brno 1996: I find it very charming when riders have early career races that tell you everything you need to know about them. this is valentino's first grand prix win, achieved from his first pole position. he has an awful start, ends up way down the order, fights his way through, is eventually caught by this 34 year old former world champion who he does not like, fights him for a bit, stalks him and lets him draw them away from the pack in what the commentators consider remarkable confidence and poise from a seventeen year old, loses touch enough with the race leader that it looks like he's surely lost the race before pulling out a crazy last lap with some hard racing™ to overtake that other bloke. after he crosses the finish line he's so excited he almost rides into the wall. deeply excessive celebratory fist pumping that just goes on and on and on. angelic smile on the podium as the bloke he's beaten looks rather peeved - and apparently complained about valentino's riding afterwards. what more is there to say, really

^driving his elders to drink. here's a video where valentino is talking about the race: "and from there a fight to the death came out because we didn't get along very well. we weren't very nice to each other because we were bothering each other throughout the championship". like I said, tells you everything you need to know about him. just watch this one and call it a day

nurbuergring 1997 (ITA): an early strong wet weather performance, at a time when he was still a bit of a wimp about the whole riding in the rain thing. granted, he was a little lucky when the runaway race leader had a mechanical dnf, but he got into a nice little scrap with a few other riders to claim his fourth consecutive victory

rio 1997 (ITA): the thing about 125cc/moto3 races is you kinda know what you're getting, and more often than not what you're getting is a fun time watching them go at it. valentino's first, he's third, he's first again, they're having it out... and then on the final lap, he's taking advantage of the backmarkers to secure the victory. which is so sneaky and so valentino that it obviously deserves to be mentioned here. incidentally, his last ever win at assen 2017 had a controversial involvement of a backmarker on the last lap, which is a nice little full circle moment twenty years later

brno 1997: in many ways, this was a more impressive ride from his title rival ueda, who came back from thirteenth on the grid to take the win. which meant that valentino had to finish on the podium to claim his 125cc title at the same venue where he won his first race... and he just about managed it, with the entire leading group of riders headed into the final corner together

there are race highlights in the 5-10 minute range from his 250cc race years which... well. since they're not anywhere close to full races and this is a race recs list, I can't exactly give them their own bullet points, but I'll just rattle through a few highlight videos here I enjoyed from 1998: jerez (features a nifty overtake with four blokes entering one corner together, also harada fucked with valentino despite being a lap down to help capirossi win?? anyway vale's first 250cc podium, to which harada showed up to clap for capirossi specifically???); mugello (featuring his controversial beachwear celebration); paul ricard (see below); catalunya (he spent a lot of that year crashing but towards the end of the season finally figured it out - works his way back from thirteenth place to win), argentina (controversial title decider claxon; valentino found the whole thing so "hilarious" he was giggling when the drama was going off in the garage. he also referenced the jerez incident in his post-race interview, because of course he did)

^the three protagonists of the 1998 250cc season: valentino, harada and capirossi, all part of the same nightmarish aprilia 'super team'. everything I've read about that season makes me want to break into dorna hq and get my hands on the full race footage. both images are from the paul ricard race, in which valentino was trying to figure out how to stop harada from continuously outsmarting him. they kept slowing down the pace further and further, with harada running his bike comically wide to let valentino through and valentino doing a massive wheelie down the straight (image on the right) to force harada to go back past - but harada still eventually managed to best him on the final lap. valentino was heavily criticised in the press for wanting to 'humiliate' capirossi by letting capirossi catch up to the pair, but really he was just getting creative in his tactics. I may not have been able to 'watch' this season but I love it dearly

donington park 1999 (ITA): the ONE 250cc race I've been able to watch in its entirety. it was stopped and restarted due to the weather and the final outcome was decided on aggregate time across the two races (yeah, this does feel weird but they used to do that). a close fight especially in the first part. not too wet, presumably, given his 250cc performances in the soaking wet were often. hm. not great

1999 highlights I enjoyed: catalunya (was riding with a suspension glitch but kept his main title rival ukawa behind him anyway); sachsenring (won an intense battle with capirossi, admittedly you do not see much of him in the highlights); brno (another intense fight, this time mainly with an older rider in waldmann after they both worked their way through the field); phillip island (worked his way to the win from seventh on the grid and one of those phillip island races)

jerez 2000 (HL): valentino's initiation to the premier class wasn't... the most dignified thing you'll ever see... two dnf's in the first two races by which point he was so bloody terrified of the bike he was just very slow in the third. in his defence, those 500cc bikes were pretty scary, but also it was time to get his act together. which he did in jerez! this was another one of those weird ones where the rain interrupted the race and then the whole thing was decided on aggregate time, but a good ride to bag his first premier class podium

**donington park 2000: maybe it was the bikes, maybe it was experience, maybe it was a mindset thing, but eventually he would get over his moral objections to 'getting wet' and develop into an excellent wet weather racer in the premier class. this was his first premier class win - and a pretty neat way to seal it too. had an awful start, took a while to figure out the grip conditions, and then he was off. the second half of the race involved a fun fight between valentino and both roberts jr and mcwilliams for the victory

^almost gave the commentators a heart attack by running a defensive line through the final corner that took him completely off the dry racing line

rio 2000 (NC/HL - as in, both are available): valentino's second win of the year and his first in the dry, the race after his late charge to a rookie title was scuppered by a crash in valencia. he made some adjustments to his riding style after the valencia fiasco and really started to get to grips with the 500cc, which would stand him in good stead the following year. as is traditional, he makes a truly horrendous start, dropping back from the front row to find himself briefly outside of the top ten. from there, he gets to work. it's confident stuff, getting himself to the lead by about half distance and pulling away from there

**suzuka 2001: the first race of 2001 and a clear statement of intent. as ever, valentino had to work his way through the field... which took him right into the path of max biaggi, a man who had already been his enemy before they started actually racing each other. now, it has to be said, biaggi is a dick here! quite literally elbows valentino while running him off-track and could easily have caused vale to crash (as valentino said afterwards, "I had to learn how to ride motocross-style at 140 mph"), he continues using various body parts rather creatively in defending his position. when valentino finally gets past, he sticks out his middle finger. set the tone for that season rather nicely

jerez 2001: this is the cool-headed, calculating valentino who would prove such a formidable foe over the years. having already won the first two races of the season, he's high on confidence as he engages in a duel with the man who had so captured his imagination as a teenager: norifumi abe. valentino takes his time - but when he finally makes the decisive pass, he pulls clear so easily it feels like valentino may have just been toying with his hero all along

^valentino and norick, the inspiration for 'rossifumi'. in 2008, valentino paid tribute to the other man a year after his passing: "norick for me was a hero. I grew up watching the suzuka 500 race in 1994 with the great battle he had together with schwantz and doohan. last year was a shit year for me when I heard of the death of norick and colin mcrae, for me it was not a great year. I think it is possible to dedicate this championship to norick”

catalunya 2001 (HL): I don't care if there's only highlights - I am not leaving out a race that sparked a fist fight. honestly if I were biaggi I'd be pissed about this race too. valentino was twelfth at the end of the first lap and ended up winning... painful, truly. a really good scrap, plenty of fun to watch as valentino always is at catalunya, and obviously you've also got to watch the presser clips with the knowledge they were throwing hands a few minutes earlier

assen 2001 (HL): this one was low-key kinda stolen from valentino. it's good fun - y'know, one of those assen battles, valentino's doing the stalking and lurking thing and it starts raining and valentino takes the lead and... whoops! time to call off the race due to the rain so let's take the results from the previous lap! biaggi win! imagine getting into a fist fight with someone and losing the very next race to them on a technicality. oof

^post-fist fight handshake to show how it's all fine. they're totally fine. completely fine. no problems here

*donington park 2001 (HL): I'm gonna be so real, if I'm on pole and my title rival starts eleventh and he ends up beating me to the win by 1.8s, I think I just call it a day after that one. valentino had a bad crash during practise where he was lucky to not really hurt himself and then obviously had a pretty terrible qualifying, so a great opportunity for biaggi to claw back some points. worst bit is, vale didn't even make a good start - he was still in eleventh place halfway through the first lap. good fun to watch him pick his way through the field, and in his autobiography he ranks this race near the very top in terms of ones that gave him the most "satisfaction"

****phillip island 2001: look, if you've seen one of those classic multi-rider dogfights at phillip island, then, here, I've got a version of that for you from 2001. it's just so much fun to watch, with so many different riders and rider constellations and run orders at various parts of the race, riders looking like they'll break away and getting caught again etc etc etc. and it is also a match point race for valentino - a relatively comfortable one given his formidable championship lead. he didn't need to win the race to take the title, but would you want to see your greatest enemy take the spoils on your big day? in the most dramatic fashion possible, valentino ends up right behind biaggi on the very last lap and makes a daring overtake for the victory. hard to beat that as a way of sealing your first premier class title

*suzuka 2002: you know how I said in the marc rec post that I found it tricky to pick out a few for 2014 because a lot of the races were good without being all timers? this is valentino's equivalent season - he's winning, life is great-ish, tricky to differentiate, and if you enjoy any of these races you'll probably enjoy them all. mostly I'm just going to include the ones with commentary available, even though I'm too stubborn to let dorna completely make my choices for me here. anyway, this one is available with commentary and it's a good watch... valentino hadn't had the easiest weekend to start off his title defence, crashed badly twice, bloodied his hands, all that. he had a sluggish start in the wet conditions and worked his way up the field, before sitting on the rear tyre of the japanese wildcard akira ryo for a while - who knew the track well and knew where all the puddles were. a smart and composed win and feels very typical of his wet weather performances over the years

jerez 2002 (NC): in my head, this is the sister race to le mans 2014. valentino is pushed down quite a few spots to ninth early on (kenny roberts jr just. shoves him aside and does the thing where he gestures back to apologise, but that doesn't really help valentino when half a dozen bikes have passed him) and then he gets down to business. that whole season really does have that 2014 vibe of 'right this is fun but also feels a little too easy' - but hey, the way valentino picks his way through the field is satisfying to watch. and valentino did always like to play with his food, so he sits behind barros for a fair bit before doing the inevitable

*assen 2002: so, the thing about 2002 is that it was the first year of the rebrand to motogp and the introduction of the four-stroke bikes... but you still had two-stroke bikes on the grid, which tended to be tragically outgunned. the circuits where they were competitive tended to be the ones where they could take advantage of how 'nimble' the old bikes were, with more corners and fewer straights - and honestly, if you go on a race-by-race level you could make the case that on-track barros on his two-stroke machine (for most of the year) was valentino's most important rival that season. this is a head-to-head duel with barros that nicely showcases the respective strengths and weaknesses of two such different bikes and riders riding them, and barros manages to mount a stern challenge to valentino for most of the race

*sachsenring 2002: I do find it a little funny that this is one of the ones with commentary they've provided, because there's a bit of an anti-climax close to the end and I'm not sure valentino should have won that race. anyway, similarly to assen, this is another week where the two-strokes can put up a proper fight, and it's an engaging scrap that involves a lot of riders and quite a few nice little shifts in momentum. like above, another interesting study in how the different bikes compare in direct combat

phillip island 2002 (NC): always fun when someone builds up a bit of a gap on valentino. as was so often the case that year, it was barros (now on a four-stroke) who served as valentino's closest challenger, and valentino took his time hunting him down. from there, it's familiar material from the rossi playbook, stalking and studying before making his move - but barros sticks very very close to valentino until he makes an error on the last lap

^is it a bird is it a plane etc etc... don't think this was supposed to mean anything, just being silly

okay we're now headed into the 2003-05 stretch and I should mention that most of the races in that era will also have been featured in this post, which might also be useful to put them into context

*le mans 2003: valentino tries to make a break for it, but the rain denies him. he raises his hand to get the race called off (you could do this as the race leader back in the day, or I suppose also not do that if you wanted to be an asshole)... and immediately almost falls off his bike so. uh. probably a good idea to get it called off. when the race resumes, it's a three-way tussle between valentino, barros, and new challenger sete gibernau, even if at times it's less tussling and more wobbling. in the last couple of laps, it's down to sete and valentino to have it out in the treacherous conditions - and the last lap is proper dramatic. sete had already gotten one over valentino in welkom... but this defeat, coming after valentino had led the race, must surely have stung even more

*catalunya 2003: I feel a little mean making my first three 2003 picks races valentino all lost in quite painful fashion, but, hey, it's character building and really set up his whole arc for the next season-and-a-half. this one is... well. it's both embarrassing and kinda neat from vale. most of this race consists of a duel with capirossi - and when valentino hits the front, you do think that's going to be it. capirossi keeps close, however, and valentino eventually makes an error, running wide to let him through. shortly afterwards, he makes even a worse mistake and runs off into the gravel. once he's fucked up it's a pretty fun performance, where he starts posting pleasingly insane lap times to recover from sixth back to second

***sachsenring 2003: this race will always be remembered for valentino's penultimate corner overtake followed by his last corner mistake that resulted in sete's unlikely victory, but the race before that is good fun too! valentino looks like he'll make a break for it, and obviously miserably fails in his attempt - this time he's the one to be slowly, slowly, slowly caught by a persistent rival who eventually manages to get the better of him again. after this race, valentino vowed he wouldn't be taking any more prisoners. he didn't

****brno 2003: after a horrifying four race losing streak and the humiliation of sachsenring, valentino came back from the summer break with new determination and hunger and a mission to not let anyone get in his way any more. he does not have an easy time of it at brno, with a classic multi-rider dogfight that features regular and dramatic shake-ups of the riders' fortunes. the finish is incredibly close, and vale could have easily been denied the opportunity to pull out his elaborate victory celebrations: dressing up as a convict to symbolise how he felt imprisoned by his own success. here is a more in-depth post about the race

****phillip island 2003: this starts off in classic phillip island fashion, with a bunch of riders having it out in the early laps. then, valentino takes the lead and makes a break for it, and it looks like the excitement of the rest of the race will be all about the fierce fight for the remaining podium positions... except there's a twist. valentino overtook another rider under yellow flag conditions - and unlike donington that year where he was retroactively slapped with a ten second penalty that denied him the win, this time he is informed of the penalty during the race. this race is about as exhilarating as it is possible for a race to get when you're watching someone riding alone in the front - and you'll be provided with some added spice with the scrap for the last podium place. in the end, valentino crosses the finishing line with an obscene margin of over fifteen seconds

^think I already posted these notes somewhere but I can't NOT mention the commentary for this race. bottom of this post I included the autobiography excerpt about how valentino channelled his fury to win this race - very revealing!

****welkom 2004: still perhaps valentino's favourite victory of them all, and with good reason. his first race with yamaha and one that the entire paddock thought he didn't have a hope of winning... until they hit the track that weekend. valentino led every single session and qualified on pole: he said the pole position felt as good as ten with honda. better yet was still to come, with valentino claiming a victory following a thrilling duel against his old foe biaggi that raged on until the very last lap. such was the pace that third-placed sete was seven seconds down on the top pair at the chequered flag

^valentino stopped at the side of the track after his win, kissing his bike and sitting down for a moment to soak in the moment. he says he was laughing into his helmet: "'and so in the end I was right!' I thought to myself. 'I can't believe it, I screwed them all... what a show!'"

****mugello 2004: this race has so much going on, and all of it is highly enjoyable. valentino might have won the last two races at mugello - but off the back of two fourth places and with mugello's famously terrifying long straight, it felt like surely the more powerful hondas would have the decisive edge. and this one is a hard fight for valentino. it's a hard fight with several riders, it's a hard fight with sete and, following an interruption due to the rain, it's a hard fight in mixed conditions where valentino initially drops back to seventh to figure out the grip levels - before speeding off to the win. all the best types of races rolled into one

***catalunya 2004: right after mugello, it's time to visit sete's home - and here valentino kicks off a bit of a tradition of memorable one-on-one catalunya duels... as well as a habit of beating spaniards at the track. it's hard fought, it's challenging, but again valentino emerges on top

***assen 2004: the third consecutive race that featured an extended duel with sete. initially involving barros too - but he crashes, and it's down to the familiar protagonists. this really works as the last episode of that mini-trilogy because you can tell how badly sete felt he needed to reassert himself in that title fight, and conversely how little interest valentino had in letting him do so. involves a hard last lap overtake that resulted in contact. sete was not best pleased, but valentino had secured the win and the championship lead

^left: catalunya, where valentino dons the doctor's garb to perform a series of 'medical checks' on his yamaha, feat. stethoscope and thermometer, before declaring it fit for duty. right: assen, where yamaha staff dress up as doctors to pay tribute to him

qatar 2004: a good old-fashioned hubris ride. valentino was slapped with a back-of-the-grid penalty for some midnight grid cleaning shenanigans and is furious about this. he gets quite possibly the best start of his career and is eighth after a few corners, continues charging and barging his way through the field... before crashing and mashing up his finger and reopening that year's championship fight. the race does get a little dull after valentino does his thing - here are the ten most relevant minutes of footage as well as some more details about the penalty and the race. the weekend that irrevocably damaged his relationship with sete

***phillip island 2004: an underrated spite ride. if you're in the penultimate race of the season and you know a second place is enough to clinch the title and you're over a second behind your title rival and you historically suck at the circuit where title deciders are held, the sensible thing to do is just ride home in second place when it becomes clear the third-placed guy is not catching up. obviously, valentino does not do this, not least because he is determined to stop sete from ever winning a race again. this goes down to the very last lap and it is either a very cool or a very dumb way to seal a title, depending on how you look at it

****jerez 2005: both protagonists make very little secret from the start of the race of just how much they want to beat each other: this is war. and it's a war in which sete has the upper hand for most of the way through (as much as you can really feel you have the 'upper hand' with valentino sitting on your rear tyre) - until valentino makes his move with three laps to go. it takes an error from valentino on the last lap to set up the dramatic and controversial finale, with the infamous valentino block pass that sent his bike careening into sete's. the actions of a man who had decided neither of them finishing the race was a more acceptable outcome than his enemy taking the win, and the relationship between the two riders manages to improbably deteriorate still further

^satisfied with a good day's work as the furious spaniards jeer. if anyone had any lingering doubts about valentino's trademark ruthlessness, they were dispelled that day

**mugello 2005: another year, another thrilling mugello battle. it's looking increasingly clear that this will be a one-rider title fight, but luckily that isn't impacting the race quality (think marc's 2019, where he was incidentally the same age as valentino is here). similarly to the year before, there's cause for concern whenever you're fighting more powerful bikes at mugello, but after a dramatic multi-rider fight valentino is not to be denied

**catalunya 2005: back on sete soil and oh god how much he would have loved to win this race. it's the tension and hatred and desperation that makes these races so exciting to watch - though sete is hardly helped out in his mission of revenge by teammate marco melandri who keeps sabotaging sete's attempts to defy valentino's curse. but melandri has whatever the opposite of main character energy is and the race ends up being another valentino/sete duel. some excellent riding by the pair of them, valentino is particularly fearsome on the brakes that day, and sete has truly taken his gloves off when fighting valentino. but of course, valentino denies sete once again and makes a break for it shortly before the end

****donington park 2005: the defining wet weather ride of valentino's career - even though it got off to a shaky start (literally) and continued to be pretty shaky most of the way. this race was held in truly appalling conditions that they probably would not race in these days, and it's reflected in the number of dnf's - one of which was courtesy of poor sete gibernau once again crashing out of the lead. for most of the way, valentino is wobbling his way into the lead and wobbling his way out of it again... but after some big scares and some time spent nicely sheltering behind other riders, he finally figures out the grip conditions - and he's off. it's one of those rides that is just demoralising for everyone else in how good it is, with valentino pulling insultingly far clear from the other riders with insulting ease

^valentino plays a violin after crossing the finish line. teammate edwards: "I looked at his data and it was scary. he was locking the front in the rain on a shitty track that was slicker than snot, at every corner. this guy's crazy!" not pictured - valentino hugging himself and shivering while parking the bike... and being provided with an anorak and gloves that he only very, very, very reluctantly relinquishes when stepping onto the podium

*le mans 2005: you realise fairly quickly that this one's building to something juicy. colin edwards, valentino's teammate, takes the lead and heads out on his own, as valentino sets off after him - eventually slotting into his favourite position sitting right on the leader's rear tyre. except, he can't afford to hang around - because sete is going faster than both of them and is rapidly catching up. this one really gets going when the inevitable happens and the three of them collide on track, and of course we end up with another sete/valentino duel. cruelly, it's another one where the winner is still not entirely decided when they enter the very final lap... but the curse will not be denied. valentino breaks the circuit record on the last lap

*sachsenring 2005: the problem with watching these races is that even if you would prefer not to know the result going in... well, every single time the race comes down to a duel between sete and valentino post-qatar 2004, however strong sete looks, however confident, however near he is to the victory... you know he's obviously not going to make it. my advice is to really lean into it - the joy/horror of it all is in discovering how it's going to go wrong this time. this race features another lovely duel between valentino and sete, at a track that suits the honda far better than it does the yamaha. valentino leads early on before sete manages to catch up and overtake him. two laps to go and sete is still in the lead as valentino stalks him around... you know how this story goes

*brno 2005: ah, the misery. listen, if you enjoyed the previous sete/valentino duels I listed, then you're going to enjoy this one too. it's the race immediately following sachsenring and it feels like basically they just continued the last one, and boy are they going at it from the very start. sete determinedly sticks with valentino and surely one of these has to go his way... includes a particularly cruel twist on the final lap

qatar 2005: one year on from the race in which valentino put his curse on sete, and it feels like this might be sete's best chance for the remainder of the season to free himself. he gets perilously close to making a break for it ahead of the battling melandri and valentino... but of course, he can never run far enough. another painful defeat (if one caused by melandri more than valentino) and eventually valentino claims victory at the circuit that had caused him such trouble the year before

qatar 2006: valentino's 2006 season got off to a tricky start when toni elias rode into him in the very first corner of the opening race, and his luck didn't get much better from there. still, the year featured plenty of excellent valentino rides - including the second race of the season, where he fought his way through from sixth on the grid. features his first tussle with the rookie pole sitter, one casey stoner, who defends sternly against his future rival. eventually, valentino faces off against nicky hayden in a decent extended scrap that went on for much of the race

***mugello 2006: boy, did valentino get himself involved in some banger races at this circuit during his time. sete tries to escape at the front, and even in a tough year like 2006 valentino will not allow that man a moment's rest. a duel between sete and valentino ensues (featuring melandri and casey), then valentino suddenly drops down to fifth, then the race turns into a three-way encounter between capirossi, hayden, and... still valentino. he emerges from the feisty fray with a much-needed win

***sachsenring 2006: you could copy paste 'much-needed win' any time valentino won this year, and sachsenring is no exception. not traditionally his strongest track, valentino's urgency produced one hell of a race ripe with tension throughout. the yamaha's struggles made for a difficult qualifying and he fought his way through from eleventh on the grid. even when he caught the leaders and passed them, he couldn't just clear off like in times past, dragging three dogged riders along with him - but he just about managed to hold them off for the win

****sepang 2006: one of the best valentino duels, this time featuring one of his oldest rivals in the form of loris capirossi. part of his remarkable late season charge that brought him within kissing distance of the title. the entire race is enjoyable but the final lap is one for the ages, with valentino vicious in both attack and defence

^no hard feelings: capirossi hugs valentino while vale is still on the bike. 2006 is a rare title fight in which valentino genuinely liked most of his major rivals. vale was exhausted after the battle in the gruelling sepang conditions and had a little sit down after hugging his team

phillip island 2006: the first bike swap race and quite frankly the whole thing is a mess. a lot happens and it's classic late season chaos where the championship standings and implications are chopping and changing by the lap. when the dust settles, valentino has snagged third place on the last lap off poor sete gibernau and chips away a little more at hayden's championship lead

***estoril 2006: sure, valentino lost the 2006 title when he crashed at valencia, but he also lost it by .002s in estoril. this race featured a dramatic twist in the title fight when rookie dani pedrosa wiped out his teammate hayden, and suddenly valentino had to consider just how much risk he was willing to take. he had mostly decided to play it safe - but then couldn't help himself and ended up attacking toni elias on the very last lap. if he had managed to bag the extra five points, then even with the valencia crash he would have won the title on countback

valencia 2006: everyone thought valentino would be winning the title again headed into the weekend, and they became even more certain of it when valentino qualified on pole. but in the end, it was not to be. valentino got a poor start and felt something was wrong with the bike (or maybe it was the tyres, if one casey stoner is to be believed), but admits the mistake that left him on the ground was his own. a bitter pill to swallow after a season plagued by misfortunes, though valentino had always gotten on well with title winner nicky hayden and was sincere in his congratulations

****catalunya 2007: from the start of 2007, it was clear that new ducati hire casey stoner would be a problem. with yamaha's struggles continuing into the new 800cc era, ducati had gotten it spot on at the first try... even if it was only casey who could completely tame their troublesome bike. for a while, it seemed easy to dismiss casey's victories as built primarily on the back of the infamous ducati horsepower, but at catalunya casey proved he was far more than just a powerful engine. one of the true classic catalunya duels, with both riders displaying dazzling race craft, and one of casey's finest career victories

***assen 2007: valentino's season wasn't getting any easier - the yamaha was one thing but his continued struggles with the michelin tyres if anything frustrated him even more. he qualified in eleventh place and doesn't get a particularly good start while casey streaks off in the front. casey is over five seconds clear at one stage, but valentino manages to hunt down his title rival anyway. it's studying and stalking and lurking and all the rest of it, and as ever casey doesn't make it easy for him - but eventually valentino manages to pass him and pull clear

*estoril 2007: casey's championship was more or less wrapped up by this point, though valentino was able to deny him just a little longer at the first match point race. this features a nice scrap between casey and valentino, and then an extended duel with dani that is perhaps the best fight the two of them ever had. it was a much-needed win in a rough patch for valentino on- and off-track - and he dedicated it to one of his idols, the rally legend colin mcrae who had just passed away

**catalunya 2008: yes, okay, I know he won the three races before that one - but this one's a more fun race! after an initial adaptation period to his shiny new bridgestone tyres, his season had finally properly kicked off with the aforementioned three race win streak. at catalunya, valentino only qualified in ninth, and pedrosa streaked off in front - but valentino and casey engaged in a highly enjoyable rematch of the previous year's duel. in the end, it was valentino who prevailed, but casey and ducati had clearly gotten their own house in order...

^the version of valentino that marc first met, before vale's race in his special football-themed livery and leathers

****laguna seca 2008: after catalunya, casey stormed on to win the next three races on the trot, typically by ominous margins. heading into laguna seca, a race casey had dominated with ease the year before and valentino had never gone particularly well at, valentino knew casey might be in danger of running away with this championship... and he was determined to do something to finally conduct this rivalry on his terms. nobody expected there would be a contest for the victory, let alone one valentino won - but he did, in a brutal encounter that served as a masterclass in psychological intimidation. the relationship between the two rivals did not emerge unscathed

*indianapolis 2008: another race, another mediocre start, if this time from pole. it sets up a fun (to watch) race in worsening conditions, as valentino takes his time to get comfortable with the grip levels before slowly and surely working his way through the field and stalking first casey then nicky hayden around the track. he makes it to the front before eventually the race has to be called off - and, in a rare moment of unity, valentino and casey are seen briefly talking to ezpeleta together, presumably to tell him they have less than zero interest in going out again in that weather. they get their way and the race is called off, with valentino bagging his fourth consecutive victory - a streak he of course started at laguna. his second and last win on US soil

motegi 2008: the title-sealing race and fifth consecutive win - not the most exciting entry on this list, but earns its place by featuring a bit of a duel between title rivals casey and valentino for the lead (after they both get past dani, casey in a rather rude way that he apologises for with a hand gesture) (not that he gives the position back and valentino immediately swoops through too). motegi had always been one of vale's weakest tracks, and it must have felt extra sweet to clinch the title at the home race of his perennial enemies at honda (as he miserably failed to do in 2005 in a deeply embarrassing performance)

^'scusate il ritardo', or 'sorry for the delay': this title was special given the heartache of the two previous years. all smiles with casey and jorge (who comes to parc fermé to congratulate his teammate)

*sepang 2008: as was sometimes rare in that era, this race involves several good fights going on simultaneously down the order. the fight for the victory ends up coming down to valentino and dani, and it's a nice little duel they put on - plus there's also dovi's dramatic fight for the final podium position to enjoy

jerez 2009: dani and valentino's young teammate jorge lorenzo are the clear pre-race favourites and there's a slight fear one of them will run away with it... but jorge never quite finds his groove and ends up crashing, while dani very much does not run away with it. valentino finds something extra after being absolutely nowhere all weekend, as he had a habit of doing. features valentino shadowing first casey and dani - and a particularly nifty contact-free block pass at the infamous final corner on casey. valentino's first win of a tough season

****catalunya 2009: one of valentino's finest career victories - and another example of his ability to wrest control of a season when he needed to. off the back of two tricky/embarrassing races at le mans/mugello, it felt like the time had come to demonstrate he was a serious contender in that year's championship... as well as assert himself within yamaha over his increasingly troublesome young teammate. the stakes are clear: jorge sorely wanted to win in front of his home crowd and valentino sorely wanted to beat him there. after a strong start, the physically ailing casey falls back, letting jorge and valentino soar off and fight it out as they take turns to tail each other around the track. a duel for the ages and the victory that transforms his fortunes in that season (some more details in this post)

**sachsenring 2009: a few races after catalunya, it was once again jorge and valentino to fight it out for the win - unusual for two yamahas at that track. it's a duel that has been overshadowed by catalunya, but this is another gem: a close and dramatic battle at a time when it felt like jorge was the one who had something to prove. but valentino demonstrates how hard it still is to best him in head-to-head combat, and he ends up beating the number 99 bike by the pleasing margin of .099s (listen I have no evidence for this but in my heart of hearts I 100% believe he noticed and appreciated this fact)

misano 2009: this race followed valentino's massive error in indianapolis, crashing and reopening the championship fight at a time when it looked like he had things perfectly under control. his traditional special home race helmet is dedicated to taking the piss out of himself - featuring a donkey because of how "stupid" he had been. but in misano he was the "flying donkey"... look, it's not the best race you'll ever watch, but after a poor start (surely not), he does do quite a nice job to overtake dani for the lead. in parc fermé, his team dons donkey ears, and he gets his own pair to wear to the podium as he greets his ecstatic fans

**sachsenring 2010: valentino's early season was troubled by a motocross shoulder injury he'd picked up after qatar, and he had to push harder and harder to keep up with an ever-improving jorge. eventually, he pushed too hard and broke his leg in mugello. this was his first race back, returning sooner than anyone had expected (except casey, who thought people were making too big a deal out of the whole thing) - and he immediately was on the pace, to everyone's surprise (not casey's, who thought valentino's main problem was just losing a bit of muscle mass). this race features an excellent duel between casey and valentino in the closing stages for the final podium position, with casey stealing it from valentino at the very last gasp. it was an impressive performance by the pair of them, a heartwarming demonstration of how mediocre bikes and broken legs can be overcome by the power of mutual contempt

***motegi 2010: do you ever feel overcome by the sudden urge to watch someone be an absolute asshole for no good reason? if so, then I have the perfect race for you. jorge is very close to clinching that year's title, and in truth it's a pretty sure-fire thing given dani is out with injury. still, it's generally not considered good form to ride into your teammate at the best of times. valentino continues to struggle with his fucked up shoulder late into the season, but spite will do all kinds of magical things for you. it's a race-long battle for third place between the yamaha teammates, and the last few laps in particular are uh. intense. features valentino dangling out his leg to increasingly comical extents - whether to try and mitigate the shoulder issues or whether to physically block jorge is anyone's guess. jorge basically rides right into the leg more than once. there are at least three separate extremely dubious moves valentino pulls on jorge. you can tell jorge is losing his mind. you can feel the sheer concentrated malice radiating off valentino. when valentino gets off the bike, the mic picks up how he tells the yamaha team that it "was fun". not everyone would agree

^you'd think a season in which valentino had broken his leg might be one where everyone lays off the dramatics a little, but somehow this year was the one in which valentino's relationships with both of his main rivals soured considerably and made the final step from 'rivalry' to 'feud'. there'll always be a slight air of unfinished business to the casey rivalry in particular, but 2010 did end up unwittingly providing us with a few gems. in the motegi qualifying press conference (pictured above), vale talks about how he knows he needs shoulder surgery - but is determined to delay the surgery until the end of the season. it wasn't a good decision for his shoulder

**sepang 2010: the race that immediately follows motegi. valentino doesn't qualify particularly well and starts worse, dropping back to 12th during the first lap as jorge and dovi set out in front. but valentino determinedly sets after them - and when he catches up, they engage in a lovely three-way scrap in the race in which jorge can seal the championship... as long as valentino doesn't knock him off. this doesn't reach the viciousness of motegi, but it still involves three riders who clearly really want to win and also really want to beat each other. his first victory after the broken leg - and his last one for a long time

jerez 2011: thing is, right, if you just ignore the bit where he wipes both himself and casey out and then has to pick the bike up and start again, it's actually a really good ride! can't fault it! did his thing in the wet again! just one little. uh. blot on the copybook. I wouldn't even say the ambition outweighed the talent as much as it was his patience, given he knew it might be the only chance he'd get for a big result for a while on the struggling ducati. it's the kind of misjudgement he makes relatively rarely in his career, and speaks to his frustrations with the continuing shoulder problems as well as the underperforming desmosedici. casey was less than sympathetic

le mans 2011: it's le mans, it's raining, you know how it goes... these conditions were pretty much the only times valentino could manage a decent pace in his ducati years. this one should've gone on the dovi list too actually, not least because jorge executes an extremely rude move on dovi I feel confident in saying dovi did not appreciate (he gets jorge back with a far more polite and civilised move). casey runs off with the win by a fairly obscene margin but behind him there's plenty of talking points - not least the hugely controversial clash between dani and sic that leaves jorge, dovi and valentino fighting for the two remaining podium spots

*le mans 2012: valentino might have expressed mixed feelings over the course of his career about riding in the wet, but it sure did its job during the ducati years as the great big equaliser. now, point of order: in my casey rec list, I described this as 'not a great casey race', which I don't stand by at all. the last casey/vale duel (that also heavily features a vale/dovi/cal crutchlow tussle), with valentino stalking and harassing casey both at the start and the end of the race - though he did exercise some advisable caution... initially. involves a last lap overtake and is valentino's best ducati performance

^the last podium valentino and casey shared, in the race after casey announced his retirement. usually it's a bit easier to tell when a valentino feud is at its worst, and the two of them joked in the press conference about how they were thinking back during the race to their 2011 jerez clash. ducati were in such a miserable place in those two years that in truth, nobody could have done much with that bike - casey certainly could have done more, but by 2010 the bike so awful that valentino outscored casey that season even after fucking up his shoulder and breaking his leg. vale's sole dry podium in the ducati seasons came at an emotional home race in misano the year after sic's passing, though unfortunately it's not a particularly watchable race. there are some other rides in those two years that are strong in isolation, but valentino isn't the star of the show - and really, it'd be a waste of our precious time to talk any more about two years that were a waste of valentino's precious time

qatar 2013: the first race back with yamaha and the first race of a 'qatar trilogy' of sorts, i.e. 2013-15, where valentino just keeps executing extremely watchable races by qualifying poorly/dropping back at the start and then fighting his way through. by the time he catches up with the pack, race winner lorenzo is long gone - but valentino can still have his first fight with the next big thing in motogp, the rookie marc marquez. there's an optimism to this race, the hope of new beginnings in a series that perhaps needed some life breathed back into it... and so did valentino. all three men on the podium have good reason to be delighted, and show it. valentino truly had not known if he could be competitive again after the dark ducati days, and he looks happier here than he has in ages

*assen 2013: his first victory in the post-ducati days and a track at which he had always been strong. partly helped out by jorge's collarbone injury (though assen had always been a bit of a bogey track for jorge), valentino overtook stefan bradl, marc and dani for the win. it's not the most thrilling of races, but is still perfectly enjoyable - and you can tell by valentino's reaction how much it meant to him

qatar 2014: bar a few high points, valentino's 2013 season had been troubled and frustrating as he found himself unable to match the top three in the championship. he decides to make one more big move - this time not by switching teams, but instead by firing his long-time crew chief jb. the start of 2014 is all about seeing if he can become competitive once again... and if he cannot then he will retire. qatar is a promising start, coming back from a poor qualifying to engage in a tightly fought duel with marc that lasts until the penultimate lap

misano 2014: valentino clearly stepped up his game this season, making him decide to continue on racing in motogp in a year in which marc was dominating the competition. race wins, however, remained elusive - but there is nowhere valentino would have rather emerged victorious than his own backyard. the opening stages are a proper fun three-way tussle between valentino, marc and jorge. valentino gets to the front and marc pursues him, so doggedly determined to get the better of valentino that he ends up crashing. the rest of the race isn't all that exciting, but it's notable as the first race in which valentino directly outperformed both marc and jorge when they were fully fit. the ranch visit happens after this race

phillip island 2014: never the most gifted of qualifiers, valentino would continually struggle to get to grips with the new qualifying format introduced in 2013 - and his grid position of eighth was typical of the time. but you can't fault him for his ability to pick his way through the field as he does here, which culminates in his enjoyable duel with jorge for what was then p2. he got lucky with marc's crash out of a sizeable lead, but it was still a good ride to ensure he would be the one to take advantage

***qatar 2015: it takes one corner for the 2015 championship to be blown wide open, when two time defending champion marc marquez goes off and drops to the back of the field. for much of the race, it looks like jorge will be the primary benefactor, battling it out with two revitalised ducatis. valentino starts badly and drops to tenth, but he works his way through the field - and eventually it is he who fights the ducatis for the win. this is actually a really nice marc comeback ride too, even if he never comes into victory contention. it is also a statement victory from valentino. game on

^valentino started the season on a high, daring to hope that the elusive tenth title might finally be his. the optimism would last roughly until they got to europe and jorge hit his stride, after which it was a gruelling defensive campaign to try and cling onto his points lead

**argentina 2015: the thing is, right, qualifying poorly isn't great. starting poorly also isn't great. but if you want to be fighting for titles, you should maybe pick a struggle and stop doing both. valentino's championship bid that year has all these charming races where he's still at the fuck end of nowhere after the first lap before heroically picking his way through the field, which feels needlessly exhausting but there we are. it is, however, exciting to watch how he creeps closer and closer to marc - and he eventually catches up on the penultimate lap. the resulting duel is short but memorable

****assen 2015: a duel that will always be remembered for the controversy surrounding the final chicane, but the whole race is a fantastic watch. valentino needed a result after jorge had won four races on the trot and had led 103 consecutive laps - and he played the weekend perfectly to achieve it. his only pole of the season and, excitingly, actually a good start too... but marc quickly slots in to sit on his rear tyre and it's a fight that continues the entire race. did valentino know what marc had been intending to do at the final chicane, given marc had admitted to repeatedly executing the move during that weekend's practise sessions? or was it just quick thinking that allowed him to read marc's move and realise he only had one counter available? we'll never know for certain - though marc was suspicious of valentino's motives and eagerly made his thoughts on the matter known in the post-race press conference. the beginning of the end

**silverstone 2015: after brno, valentino had surrendered the championship lead for the first time that season on countback and it was obvious he was in serious trouble. silverstone had proven a fairly happy hunting ground for jorge over the years and it looked like he would continue doing his thing that weekend... but then the rain came to the rescue. valentino spends most of the race with fellow wet weather expert marc stalking his every move, until marc goes down and valentino is left managing the gap to a late-charging petrucci. one of the finest wet weather performances of his career - and in several ways jorge got lucky to limit the points damage

^valentino's shadow, until marc pushed it too far and crashed. was marc more determined to beat valentino here than he would have been anyone else? valentino sure seems to think so - he later references both this race and misano as ones where marc aroused his suspicions. who knows, he might be right, but there's still a sizeable difference between competitive fervour and conspiracy

****phillip island 2015: one of the classic multi-rider fights. what valentino lacked in outright pace, he made up for in wheel-to-wheel skill and fighting spirit... except in the end, he couldn't completely make up for the deficit. all year, valentino had been fighting against the odds to keep his championship dreams alive - but at last, they were truly slipping, slipping, slipping away

**sepang 2015: one last roll of the dice, classic rossi-style... but this time it all goes horribly wrong. when the duel between marc and valentino arrives, it has an air of inevitability about it - as, perhaps, does the final outcome. but the fight itself is captivating to watch, in a raw brutality that befits the tragedy we are watching unfold. the penalty that valentino receives after the race is what truly dooms any remaining title hopes

valencia 2015: another doomed title decider, though valentino's race itself cannot really be faulted. he picks his way through the field from the very back and makes it to fourth, but he could never have hoped to catch up to the top three. quite a boring race afterwards bar some late marc/dani scrapping

jerez 2016: it is admittedly hard to vouch for the quality of this race precisely because it is such an extremely non-valentino way to win. clear and complete domination of the race - in a way he had otherwise been incapable of doing post-2009. while the title fight ended up being a bit of a dud for various reasons, early 2016 held promise that this year valentino would be able to match his two enemies on raw pace

***catalunya 2016: after the dramatic closing stages of the 2015 season, everyone was of course waiting for the first proper on-track duel between valentino and marc. it took a while to get going at catalunya, with valentino getting a typically poor start and having to ruthlessly work his way through to even get to the marc fight. but it's worth it once he gets there - like all their on-track encounters, it's a fierce battle of wills nicely complemented by the contrast in styles, and you can tell how ferociously determined they are to get the better of each other. the race that prompts the slight rapprochement between the pair of them

silverstone 2016: maverick vinales ran off in the front to claim his first premier class win, though the fight behind him is well worth watching - and warranted a mention on the marc list too. the first part is good, but the final laps are what it's all about, as the multi-rider scrap distills into another vicious little encounter between valentino and marc. as ever, with these two it's personal, and they're hardly shy in their ferocity fighting each other. but valentino makes clear afterwards he has no complaints... even if marc always reserves a "special treatment" for him

cota 2017: a lovely whiff of controversy to one of the better races cota has produced. valentino is involved in a feisty clash with the rookie johann zarco, who was well on his way to acquiring a certain kind of reputation within the premier class. it's fair to say valentino was not a fan, and he's certainly not a fan of zarco's attempted overtake that valentino argued forced him off-track to avoid taking them both down. he's slapped with a three tenths penalty his team decided against informing him of - which he's still unaware of when closing up on dani with a few laps to go

^not quite the hand-holding of yesteryear, but it was something. the pair of them disagreed in the post-race presser about zarco's aggressive riding - and, perhaps, valentino's off-track excursion that supposedly granted him an unfair advantage reminded marc of a certain other previous incident. riding standards remained a major talking point for all of that season, most notably in assen and phillip island (though valentino himself ended up coming under some criticism, in particular by pedrosa after aragon). the two rivals agreed more often than not, even if valentino still had his reservations. after phillip island: "all riders are very aggressive, so you have to be more stupid than them"

**assen 2017: his last grand prix victory and it's as true to him as brno 1996. a rough, bruising tussle between riders who aren't afraid to exchange paint, with plenty of high quality racing on offer. some rain adds to the excitement - and valentino still faced a sturdy challenge on the very last lap. he remains the only rider in history to have recorded a grand prix win over twenty years after his first. he said afterwards that "sincerely I race with motorcycle for what you feel the five, six hours after the victory". in many ways, it feels like a scarcely believable amount of commitment for so fleeting a reward

****phillip island 2017: multi! rider! scrap! in! australia! valentino's strongest result after a broken leg in a motocross accident took him definitively out of the title hunt (the second serious motocross-related injury that year for him). anyhow, they're at it again and it's a brutal battle between several protagonists who are happy to get their elbows well, well out. valentino's leathers were marked by rather a lot of rubber by the end of the race - but the most important thing is that everyone had fun!

sachsenring 2018: valentino's 2018 performances were generally stronger than the results would suggest, with yamaha increasingly out at sea in a new era hurried along by the return of the michelin tyres. still, he put together a strong first half of the season and was marc's main challenger points-wise. even this late in his career, he demonstrated his willingness to continue to learn and improve by studying satellite yamaha rider jonas folger's performance fighting marc the year before at the circuit, joking after the race that nobody had ever told folger the yamaha wasn't supposed to be good around there. while in the end valentino couldn't really pose a significant challenge to marc, he gives it a good go and gets involved in a fun fight with jorge along the way

****assen 2018: one of the classic multi-rider dogfights, and valentino contributes very nicely to the drama of the race - not least as a result of his deep love for the final chicane. while the winner always had something extra in his back pocket, a rather unfortunate late coming together ends up (probably) depriving valentino of what would have been a deserved podium place

argentina 2019: marc disappears the moment the lights go out, but the battle behind him provides plenty of excitement. there's a bunch of riders fighting for the remaining podium places, elbows nicely out, but eventually valentino and dovi have it out in an entertaining contest that goes down right to the very last lap

^winning a last lap duel against andrea dovizioso... what, like it's hard? a year on from an eventful argentina grand prix, marc memorably likens his handshake with valentino to kissing a girl. the last podium the two of them share

andalusia 2020: some silly good defending against his teammate throughout the race that mainly had the effect of allowing fabio to escape. valentino's result was quite the heroic feat given the gruelling physical conditions: 36 degrees celsius with horrendous track temperatures, with only 13 of 21 riders making it to the end. the blistering heat also hardly helped with the tyre preservation that plagued this portion of valentino's career; managing these tyres was one development too far for his ever-evolving riding style to adjust to. two academy riders could have denied valentino's final career podium, but both their bikes had the decency to break down

^three yamaha's stood on the podium that day for the first time since 2014 phillip island, and presumably for the last time until around 2064. valentino celebrated enthusiastically to the empty jerez grandstands, 21 years after his infamous visit to the portaloo at the same circuit. valentino's decision to retire was complicated by the pandemic, his past ability to bounce back from rough patches and - most of all - his inexhaustible passion for racing, but eventually he called it a day after the 2021 season

#brr brr #//#motogp #batsplat responds #race rec tag #nobody count how many races this is. just don't do it #i'm sorry it's just a silly long career #most exciting thing about posting this is finally getting this shit out of my drafts. getting sick of trying to scroll past it #when i was compiling the casey rec list i was like 'oh i feel bad for including laguna'#and by now i've progressed to 'here are valentino rossi's twenty biggest flops'. quite literally if you counted it probably #i do realllly need to go back to casey's list and make a few additions. why did i say le mans 2012 wasn't a good casey race :(#i think i missed out like three of the top six casey/vale duels which is a lesson in checking your notes more carefully before doing these #i do low key hate this list i feel like i've run out of good ways to describe races without getting horrendously repetitive #people always take the piss out of commentators for cliches but you do kinda run out of ways to phrase things pretty quickly #at least i've not once used the phrase 'famous victory'#also btw if you're looking for full noughties seasons to watch - think it's pretty uncontroversial to go 2004 and 2006

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