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a-kaash-me-outside · 7 months

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˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.�� you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

1K notes · View notes

lovelyhan · 2 years

Text

— again and again ⟢

pairing: mingyu x reader

summary: your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

word count: 15.7k words

tags: exes, fake dating, mutual pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut

warnings: medical jargon, mentions of shots (for pets), mentions of snake bites, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: i wrote this with bss' 7pm on loop for two straight days. nothing like the sweet taste of yearning <3 this also wasn't extensively proofread, so if you spot a few mistakes, i implore you to ignore them EJWHJHSDF

this is part of the doting on you! series.

smut tags: vanilla, mingyu is super whipped, praise kink, service top gyu, dirty talk, nicknames (babygirl, sweetheart, sweet thing), overstimulation, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, creampie, heads up that the filth is at the very end tho

taglist: @cherrycheolie1995 - @ashkuuuu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @christinewithluv - @fancypoisonapple - @odetoyeonjun - @minnie-mouser22 - @etherealyoungk - @davoraciousreader - @mariondior - @hella-sirius - @coveyland - @marlow234 - @dobomiyeon - @belysusonrisa - @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @seoksoop - @dreamhannies - @renjunphile - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @acgyu - @gae-uls - @pluviophile-xxx - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @yutadae - @smileyjimvn

additional notes: you might want to check your visibility settings if you can't be tagged!

When you hear the telltale ring as the call connects to its intended recipient, you wonder why you even considered this idea in the first place. Not to mention, you’re getting a nasty case of phone call anxiety—one that you haven’t felt in god knows how long. Maybe it’s because of the identity of the person you’re calling that your nerves are all over the place.

In fact, you’re not sure if he’s even going to answer. There are a million and a half reasons why famous superstar Kim Mingyu won’t be able to pick up your call. He could be shooting for a music video or some fashion magazine. He could be in the middle of an interview. Or he could be out spending time with his members like tends to these days if his recent Instagram posts are anything to go by.

But you try anyway because your mother sounded so hopeful in the phone call you just hung up on five minutes ago (The rice wine he got for us last Christmas was splendid! He’ll bring some again for Chuseok, won’t he?), that you just didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

So, because you can’t take back the pretty white lies you uttered (Uh, of course he will. Gyu told me he missed everyone back at home, too. Especially Namja), you’re attempting to rope Mingyu into the charade even if the odds are against you.

The first call doesn’t go through. Neither does the second.

By your third try, you’re about to accept the fact that you’re going to have to make some due corrections to what you told your mother until you hear a groggy, “Hello?” on the other line.

You nearly fall off your seat at the throaty sound of Mingyu’s voice, but you’d rather not get weird looks from your receptionist, so you breathe in as deeply (and quietly) as you can before mustering a smile that he won’t even be able to see.

“Hey, Mingyu, it’s me,” you begin, a bit proud of how your voice didn’t even falter. “It’s been a while. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

He doesn’t respond for a while, and the prolonged silence makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Did the call fall through? Did he not hear what you said? But just when you’re about to repeat the words—

“Kind of,” Mingyu grumbles, and you try not to think about how sexy his morning voice sounds despite it being two in the afternoon. “We finished taping a variety show today and I figured I’d get some sleep. It’s midnight right now.”

Well that’s news to you.

“Oh. You’re not in Korea?”

“Nah. We’re in New York for some brand collaborations,” he says, and you hear some rustling in the background, followed by a yawn. “Though I doubt you’ve been keeping tabs on us.”

Okay, he doesn’t have to call you out like that.

Sure, you still catch posts from Mingyu, as well as the other twelve members of SEVENTEEN from time to time, but…after breaking up with him (on good terms, promise!), you thought it’s best if you didn’t see too much of them anymore. The block and mute buttons are your best friends, and while you didn’t use them on the members directly, gossip outlets were your regular targets.

So to speak, it’s been a peaceful six months since your break up with Mingyu.

Until now.

“Do you need something?” he asks, and you realize you didn’t respond to what he said last. “Whatever it is, I might not be able to help you out right away. We’re holed up here until next month.”

Well…that’s all the confirmation you needed.

“I see,” you sigh, trying not to sound too disappointed. “It’s— It’s okay.”

“So you do need something,” Mingyu points out, voice much clearer now than it was two minutes ago. Like he was more awake. “What is it?”

“Nothing you should worry about, Gyu,” you reassure before making a face, not realizing how easily the old nickname just slipped out. “I’m sorry for waking you up. You should go back to—”

The sound of him whining at the other end sends another rush of vertigo through your entire being. “Come on, I’m awake anyways right? You know how hard it is for me to fall asleep again.”

“If I’d known we weren’t in the same continent, I wouldn’t have called altogether,” you say before quaintly adding, “Shit. This counts as an international call, doesn’t it?”

There’s someone else in the room with him, you think—a quiet drawl of Mingyu-hyung, what time is it? You immediately recognize it as Seungkwan.

“Five minutes past midnight,” Mingyu says, and Seungkwan asks another question that you aren’t able to catch. “Who am I talking to? Bookkeu and Bobpul’s worst enemy.”

“Hey!” You scowl at him. “They never even whined when you and Seungkwan brought them to me for their shots!”

“Noona? Why are you calling this guy?” Seungkwan says a bit more loudly for you to hear. “Didn’t you dump him already? Good choice, by the way.”

This time it’s Mingyu’s turn to utter out a semi-offended, “Hey! Mind your own business, Seungkwan-ah.”

A few minutes of bickering with his dongsaeng later, you figure that Mingyu must’ve gone outside of their hotel room for some privacy. You can vaguely hear the sound of the wind blowing on his end before he heaves a deep sigh.

“Sorry about that.” He coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, if you’re not going to tell me about what you needed help with, how are you? Is the clinic doing well? Did your receptionist finally ditch her shitty boyfriend? Does that one guy with a husky still hit on you?”

You’re a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of questions. Last you checked, you haven’t spoken to Mingyu since you greeted him on his birthday over a quick text message. But then again, your ex does have a talent for completely ignoring the time that exists in between interactions. Mingyu’s always been amicable for conversation, idol or not, boyfriend or not.

The mere thought that he hasn’t changed at all makes your heart ache in more ways than one.

You manage a quiet laugh. “I’m fine. The clinic’s fine. Chae has a new boyfriend now. He even helps us sort out new products on the shelves sometimes.”

At the mention of her name, your receptionist whips her head in your direction, one brow raised. You shake your head with a smile, gesturing that this is nothing she should even be remotely concerned about.

It’s just Mingyu after all.

“Okay, how about the guy who—”

“I turned him down when he asked me out for lunch last week.”

He whistles. “Ouch. And he’s been trying to get with you all this time.”

“I don’t usually date my clients, you know.”

“Yeah? I must be special then.”

Then comes the silence—so thick, you can cut through it with a knife.

“Uh, so I have a patient coming in an hour for a castration procedure,” you tell him a bit awkwardly. “Gotta prepare everything before the owner arrives.”

Mingyu sighs, and you can almost imagine him pouting. “You’re really not gonna tell me? I can still help you with whatever you need even when I’m out here. Unless it requires me to, you know, physically be there.”

You chuckle. “That’s the thing, Gyu. You can’t help me because I need you to actually be here.”

“Oh. Why? What for?”

You inhale sharp breath through your nose, closing your eyes as your face warms with embarrassment. Chae is definitely looking at you funnily from her station now, but you tell yourself not to give it too much thought.

“Mom asked if I was bringing you with me for Chuseok,” you admit. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, so… They kind of have no idea that we aren’t together anymore.”

Mingyu falls silent for a while yet again, and you realize that your anxiousness spikes whenever he isn’t talking like there’s no tomorrow. You wonder if he’s figured out what you’re trying to insinuate and is silently berating you for the lapse in judgment. But when Mingyu bursts out laughing on the other end, you suddenly don't mind being on the receiving end of his silence after all.

“No way,” he gasps between chuckles. “You were going to ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend over the holidays, weren’t you?! One of the fans wrote a story about the exact same thing once, except it’s between me and Wonwoo-hyung. It was in English though, but Vernon translated it pretty well.”

…Kim Mingyu admitting to reading fanfiction about himself and Wonwoo aside, you groan. “What am I supposed to do? My family loves you. I’d rather not dampen the Chuseok spirit by saying their favorite son has unfortunately made his unannounced exit half a year ago.”

“So you’re willing to pretend we’re still together just to keep them happy?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like you’re an ex I should be ashamed of, Gyu.”

“Because I’m an idol that millions are vying for?”

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s because out of all my exes, you’re the only one that Namja actually likes. That’s pretty much the highest honor you can receive in your entire life.”

Your heart does a little flip when Mingyu barks out another light-hearted laugh. You tell yourself that you’re only reacting that way because…it has been a while since you talked to him. That, and Mingyu was always so smiley whenever you brought up your ten year-old retriever.

“Point taken,” he says. “I’d totally be down to help you out, but…yeah.”

“I knew you would be,” you reply, a sad smile ghosting your features. “That’s why I called.”

Silence settles over the line once again, but it’s, by no means, awkward. It’s more…sentimental. Like two old friends reminiscing about the good memories you shared.

Huh. You’re friends with Mingyu…

“Anyway, thanks for catching up with me, Mingyu,” you tell him before you end up saying something you’re not supposed to. “I’ll get going now. Good night.”

“Hey—”

You end the call before he can have the chance to make you falter.

Right behind her desk, Chae looks up at you with a knowing look. You flash her a smile that silently pleads for her not to say a word, but your receptionist has always been on the frank side.

“Something’s telling me you’re still hung up on him, boss.”

Sighing, you push yourself back to your feet, tugging on the lapels of your crisp white coat. That might be true to some degree, but it’s not like you can do anything about it.

You and Mingyu live in two completely different worlds. It’s something that you both came to terms with when you broke up. You just had to accept the fact that there’s simply no efficient way to work around his busy schedules and the appointments you need to attend to at the clinic.

It was the most unproblematic breakup you’ve ever had, and it’s with a famous idol. Who would’ve thought.

“Anyway,” you tell Chae before nudging the door to the operating room open. “Care to help me look for the anesthetics? I can’t remember where I put them away last time…”

Your receptionist is most definitely judging you inside your head, but despite how straightforward she can be, Chae still knows when to drop it. After a few clicks on the clinic’s desktop computer, she joins you on the hunt for that pesky bottle of anesthesia without asking any intrusive questions.

You make a mental note to treat her to some coffee tomorrow.

…

One of the reasons you seldomly paid your hometown a visit is the hassle that comes with the entire commute.

First you have to endure the long queue to get tickets before sitting through an eight-hour train ride to the seaside town of Haenam. Then comes navigating the local bus routes and schedules that always seem to change every time you go home.

When you made it out of the train station for this year’s Chuseok celebration, you didn’t even bother stressing yourself out with taking the bus back to your parents’ house—flagging down a taxi that definitely charged you a ridiculous rate in exchange for your utmost comfort instead.

You try not to think about how easier it was last Christmas, when you and Mingyu took turns driving one of his company’s cars on the way here—laughing and singing along to their songs on the road like nothing else mattered.

The scent of salt hangs heavy in the breeze when you unload your baggage from the trunk of the taxi. You had the foresight to make the trip before midnight, so you’re rewarded with the sight of the sunrise breaking through the nearby ocean—light glittering across the horizon like it means to say welcome home.

That’s what you should feel; like you’re at home. But the fact that you’re about to bring some disappointing news to the table regarding your breakup with Mingyu isn’t doing your peace of mind any favors.

You contemplated coming clean about it to your parents over a phone call, but it seemed too…impersonal with how attached they’ve gotten to your ex-boyfriend. Having a significant other that your family absolutely adores seems like a double-edged sword now that you think about it.

Once the cab hits the road again, you stand in front of your family home with a wistful sigh. It’s barely past seven in the morning, but your father must already be at the pier—sorting out today’s catch with the other fishermen in town.

Your mother loves taking walks in the market even if she doesn’t have anything in particular to purchase for the day. They’re early risers by default.

You can’t really say the same for your younger brother, Haneul, though. That one likes to sleep until noon.

When you ring the doorbell outside, you expect to hear the sound of excited barking from the other side of the gate. Namja was always the first to welcome you back whenever you’re in town, and just thinking about reuniting with him quells your anxiousness a little. But surprisingly, you don’t hear the telltale noise of your family dog’s excitement.

What you do hear is the sound of the screen door opening and slamming back shut—slippers being hastily slid on before the gate creaks open, revealing Haneul still sporting a bedhead as he rubs his eyes.

“You’re back,” he says a-matter-of-factly, like he isn’t even thrilled to see you, but you’re too surprised to see him up so early to quip about it. “Mom said you wouldn’t arrive until noon.”

“I wanted to make the most of my vacation leave,” you explain before looking around the garden inside. “Where’s Namja? Did Mom take him for a walk, too?”

Haneul hums before taking your luggage. “Hm. You can say that.”

“What does that even mean?”

As if on cue, your ears perk up at the sound of a familiar bark resounding from the end of the road. You quickly whip your head around to see your beloved golden retriever, Namja, wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of you before letting out another woof when you call out his name in glee.

However, the moment you realize who’s holding his leash, you suddenly feel like you got struck by lightning.

It’s Kim fucking Mingyu.

The sight of your ex-boyfriend just...standing there when he told you he was on the other side of the world sends a million thoughts surging through your head all at once.

You try not to think about how gorgeous he looks in the early morning light. Loose, long sleeved shirt that still emphasizes his muscular build despite. Hair having grown past his chin, curling slightly at the tips. And those stupid fucking canines that peek from his lips every time he grins.

The bastard is just standing there with zero disguises, as if his existence in this place, at this point in time, doesn't throw a wrench in all of your plans.

What the hell is he even doing here?!

“Oh, sweetie, you’re back!”

The sound of your mother’s voice is, thankfully, enough to snap you out of your impending mental breakdown. You were so taken aback by Mingyu’s presence that you didn’t notice her standing next to him, carrying the bag she usually brings for her early market visits as she flashes you a warm smile.

You can only stand there in shocked silence as your mother makes her way back to the house with your dog and ex-boyfriend in tow. Haneul was already inside, so you can’t exactly glare at him for not giving you a head’s up. But given that you still have no idea what on earth is going on, you’ll play along. For now.

“Are you surprised?” your mother giggles before patting Mingyu’s shoulder. “Mingyu here said he got off work for a while so he could celebrate with us!”

“Gee, I didn’t know about that,” you say dryly, unsure of what expression you should even wear. “I thought he was going to be in New York until next month.”

She laughs again. “Oh, he told me and your father to keep it a secret that he’s going back to Korea anyways. Seems like the surprise worked, didn’t it, Mingyu-ah?”

The culprit himself agrees with a minute nod before loosening his grip on Namja’s leash.

Your goldie immediately bounds towards you at the first sign of freedom, bracing his paws on your stomach as he attempts to lick your neck. It’s enough to distract you from the current predicament at hand, making you sigh in defeat as you sink to your knees and receive Namja’s slobbery affection in its entirety.

As you snuggle up to the family dog, Mingyu says, “What can I say? I missed Haenam a lot. The scenery, the family, Namja, but of course…”

You can only sit there in growing disbelief as Mingyu mirrors your movements. He crouches low enough so that your gazes are leveled before caressing your face with a tenderness that’s both familiar and foreign at the same time.

“I missed her the most.”

This is all a charade—that’s what you can confirm from the limited clues he’s dropping for you to pick up on. You can try to figure out why he’s suddenly here in your hometown—having arrived earlier than you, from the looks of it—a little later.

What’s important is that Mingyu, ever-so helpful, is actually playing along with the act you not-so-jokingly told him about on the phone.

You should be glad.

…But why do those words make your heart ache anyways?

“Of course you do,” you sigh before peeling yourself away from his touch, carrying Namja in your arms as if he doesn’t easily weigh thirty kilograms. “Come on. Let’s get back inside and help Mom prepare whatever she’s planning on cooking for lunch.”

Mingyu’s smile doesn’t falter despite your obvious dismissal of his affection. You remind yourself that he’s racked up a lot of acting gigs throughout his career, so it’s normal for him to be a natural at this.

But even if you know that this is all an act, you can’t help the way your heart lurches when Mingyu scoops Namja out of your grasp—the mere brush of his skin on yours more electrifying than it should be.

Namja whines in your ex’s arms, pawing at his chest before licking a long stripe across his cheek. Mingyu bursts out laughing as he coos at him, and your chest burns with an indescribable feeling.

A few moments later, your mother starts gushing about how excited she is to have both of you in the kitchen with her again as she leads you back inside the house. But all that rings in your head is a broken mantra of Mingyu saying I missed her the most.

As if repeating the words enough times will make them come true.

...

It’s one thing to know that Mingyu is in Haenam when he’s supposed to be overseas.

It’s another thing to see his usual overnight bag at the foot of your unmade bed, making you realize that he definitely came here much earlier than you anticipated.

Mingyu is currently in the kitchen, helping your mother out with lunch prep while she insists that you get some sleep first. Though the trains that led to the southern provinces were designed to be more comfortable than the ones contained in Seoul, nothing defeats the comfort of your old childhood bed.

Except when you’re made aware of the fact that your ex-boyfriend probably slept in it after making the trip all the way here.

The sheets even smell like him. A hint of that expensive fragrance he never seems to get tired of laces your pillows, and warmth rushes to your face when you realize you’re breathing it in a bit too much.

So what if Mingyu slept here, right? Your parents’ house doesn’t have a guest room, and this was probably the only room available.

Oh, and in your family’s eyes, Mingyu is still your boyfriend. There shouldn’t be anything weird about your boyfriend, who went out of his way to quote-unquote surprise you, sleeping in your room, on your bed, without your knowledge.

And there definitely isn’t an issue with having to sleep next to him on said bed come nightfall.

You totally got this.

An attempt to dissuade all these intrusive thoughts is made as you unload the contents of your luggage into your old cabinet. It works for a while because all the old clothes you still kept tickled some memories from way back in high school, when becoming a vet was nothing but a pipe dream you came up with after Namja became sick on the day of his first birthday.

In fact, as you look around further, you’re reminded of just how much time has passed since you moved out. The paint on the walls is starting to chip, and the floorboards creakier than you remember. Even the bed that was too spacious for your liking seems to shrink when you imagine Mingyu sprawled all over it with a blanket thrown over his large form.

But when you recall how you two somehow made the sleeping arrangement work last Christmas, you figure that there isn’t much to worry about.

Aside from the fact that you’re not together anymore. Fuck.

“Hey. Are you awake?”

You jolt at the sound of a soft voice coming from the door. Mingyu’s handsome face peeks from the crack before he opens it all the way, lips pressed together in a hesitant smile.

“Your mom asked if I could fetch your father at the pier in a few,” he says. “Do you want to come with me or do you want to get some sleep first?”

“Do I want to—” you cut yourself off, throwing your hands up in disbelief. “Mingyu, what I want is for you to explain what you’re doing here.”

He cranes his head. “You said you needed help.”

“Yeah, but I was going to be honest about the breakup anyway!” you whisper, not wanting to attract unwanted attention from outside. God knows this house has paper-thin walls. “But then you’re suddenly here, cozying up to my family like we haven’t been ignoring each other for months already.”

“Hey, I’d never ignore you.” Mingyu pouts. “I even picked up when you called me at ass o’clock in the morning, remember? If someone’s ignoring anyone here, it’s you, sweetheart.”

You hate how you bristle at that little pet name. Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice how you react to it, so you steel yourself instead—refusing to give into his unintentional charms. “That’s not the point and you know it, Mingyu. You can’t blame me for reacting this way when you told me that you wouldn’t be able to help me out.”

“But I’m here, right? I thought you’d be a little happier to see me, but I might have been overestimating myself.”

You are. You are happy to see him.

But having to live with the knowledge that Mingyu is right here, close enough for you to touch, yet can’t because your relationship has long expired?

You weren’t ready for that. You don’t think you’ll ever be.

“Look,” he starts with a tone that’s meant to placate you, “you were right about not wanting to ruin the holidays with the breakup. I’m just here to help you out since you’re obviously not ready to break the news to your family. It’s not a big deal.”

You scowl at him. “Mingyu, it is a big deal. You are literally an idol with a packed fucking schedule. You can’t just play house with me here when you’re expected to be somewhere else.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Listen to me first, okay? We were all given the weekend off because of Chuseok on short notice. You don’t have to worry about you unknowingly stealing me away from work because there is no work. Besides, I told you I’d still be here when you need me, right?”

How can he say all that with a straight face? Like he still thinks of you as anything but an old flame that’s long been snuffed out?

The problem with Mingyu is that he’s too earnest for his own good. Always wearing a spectrum of emotions on his sleeve. Always so honest about what he feels about certain things. It’s so fucking difficult to stand your ground against someone who’s nothing but forthcoming about every aspect of his life.

But it’s not like you could ever resist him to begin with, right?

“Fine,” you grumble. “Give me a few minutes to prep. I don’t want to go out in the docks wearing this many layers anyways.”

You hate how your chest warms when Mingyu’s eyes light up at that. Fight back, maybe?!

He looks like he’s about to say something when an abrupt knock disturbs the quiet atmosphere of your room. From how annoyingly long it lasts, you single out your younger brother as the perpetrator.

“You better not be making your firstborn in there,” Haneul drawls from the other side.

Mingyu flashes you a mischievous smile before cupping the sides of his hands over his mouth. “We might be making our second born for all you know.”

You won’t survive this weekend. You really won’t.

…

“Remember when we used to eat ice cream by the Han River?”

You flash Mingyu a perplexed look as you climb out of the car he used to drive all the way to your hometown. It’s a mystery how his manager allows him to go places with their company car with no supervision, but it’s not like Mingyu has done anything in the past to warrant that kind of surveillance anyway.

Besides, if he’s spending the entirety of Chuseok with a bunch of bodyguards lingering around your house, you might actually force him to go back to Seoul altogether.

“Why’d you bring it up?” you ask. “I thought you didn’t like those kinds of dates ‘cause you had to amp up the disguises and everything.”

Mingyu pockets the keys to the car before leaning against the metal railings installed along the pier. Your father is yet to show up at your rendezvous point, so you figure it wouldn’t do anyone harm to entertain Mingyu’s attempt at small talk.

“Hmm. While I did prefer just cuddling in the dorms and at your place, it always felt a little different whenever we went out together,” he muses, the wind tossing his hair around slightly before turning to look at you. “How about you? Do you have any favorite date of ours in particular?”

You sigh, unsure why he’s even asking you all of this. Yet you indulge him anyway with, “I don’t think it classifies as a ‘date’, but I kinda liked it whenever you hung out with me in the clinic while I tended to some patients. Even if your presence there is an occupational hazard in itself.”

He snickers to himself, and you know damn well he still remembers the flock of fangirls that ran into him in the waiting room when Mingyu paid you a visit out of boredom. Thankfully, they were the respectful kind, and promised not to divulge information about Mingyu’s whereabouts whenever they catch him at your clinic.

“The dogs are always happy to see me,” he chuckles. “The cats, not so much. Oh, but remember when someone brought in their pet snake? I think that one had a crush on me.”

You do, in fact, remember the day Mingyu got bitten by a boa constrictor named Yujin. Her owner is one of your regulars, since other vets in the city don’t have reptiles under their area of expertise. Yujin hasn’t bitten anyone since she first came for a checkup, so you figure that Mingyu must have done something pretty stupid to provoke the aggression.

“You better be glad constrictor bites aren’t venomous,” you point out with an airy laugh. “Not even a true love’s kiss can cure a venomous snake bite.”

“It can cure a handful of other things though.”

You turn to glance at Mingyu with a miffed look at his attempt at smooth-talk. He’s always been this way, so it doesn’t particularly faze you. But it still feels surreal to be talking with him right next to the open sea in your hometown as you both wait for your father to arrive.

“I never really got to ask,” you murmur, eyes still trained on a flock of seagulls huddling together near the docks. “How are you? You’re not burning yourself out again, are you?”

You don’t see it, but Mingyu smiles to himself. “It’s in our job description to push ourselves past the limit, you know. But…honestly? It’s been pretty lonely.”

You make a face at that. “Lonely? You’re literally with twelve other guys, like, eighty percent of the time. How does it ever get lonely?”

Mingyu hums before leaning further over the railing. He looks up at the clear blue sky, breathing deeply with his eyes closed, and for a moment, you’re a bit taken aback by how breathtaking he looks under the spill of morning sunlight.

“You can still get lonely in the middle of all the noise,” he murmurs. “That’s why I was kind of glad I got to go back here for a while. I know I said I meant to help you out, but there might’ve been some selfish reasoning behind the choice, too.”

Your gaze softens at his words. Mingyu is one of the most intensely passionate members of their group, so it’s not hard to believe that he’s also one of those that ends up feeling this way. You remember having a similar conversation with him during a quiet night in your apartment, limbs tangled together under the sheets as he wonders if your lives would be different if he wasn’t an idol.

But of course, it’s your job to remind him that, even if it could become exhausting at times, he once dreamed of being where he is now.

“They probably miss you already,” you say. “Don’t you guys usually film content for Chuseok?”

“Yeah, but all of that’s prerecorded. They’re all with their families right now, too.”

“Really? What are you doing here then?” you tease.

Mingyu tilts his head to the side, lips curved into a lopsided smile that reminds you how it felt to catch feelings for him the first time.

“Who ever said you aren’t family?”

Unfair. He’s being so fucking unfair right now.

But you can’t even think about pushing him into the sea because your father has already made his entrance, waving at the two of you despite his hands being full of fishing paraphernalia.

He sulks about how it took you so long to go back home, and you had to explain that things have been extra hectic at your clinic, especially when you inevitably earned the reputation of being ‘SEVENTEEN Mingyu and Seungkwan’s trusted veterinarian’ despite neither of them having dropped by since the breakup.

You don’t tell them that last part though. The last thing you need is for Mingyu to have something to gloat about.

“It’s a miracle how those nasty paparazzi folks from Dispatch haven’t caught on yet,” your dad says before climbing into the backseat of Mingyu’s company car. “Unless you’re already in cahoots with them? Remember, Kim Mingyu, leave my daughter out of any celebrity gossip! She’s already built a good name for herself.”

A throaty laugh rumbles in Mingyu’s chest as he pulls out into the street. “You don’t have to worry about that, sir. Protecting her has always been my top priority.”

Your father nods, seemingly pleased with his response. “Damn straight.”

You don’t express any outward reaction to what Mingyu just told your dad, but you don’t resist when he reaches for your hand over the center console.

The moment you he squeezes your fingers, you squeeze back.

…

The rest of the day is packed with preparing lunch and dinner options for your other relatives in town. Having Mingyu on board is an undeniable asset, since the man knows his way around the kitchen even better than you do. It’s a little endearing to think that, even if it’s the first time he’s meeting your aunts and uncles and cousins, his personality makes him fit right in.

Turns out, one of your cousins’ daughters is a huge fan, and she couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Kim Mingyu smoking fish in the backyard of your parents’ house. She made him promise to sign one of her photocards before they leave—a request that your ex is all too happy to oblige.

By dinnertime, most of the guests have already left, and it’s just you, Mingyu, and Haneul sharing the rice wine Mingyu brought for the occasion, with your parents having already retired for the night. You didn’t even tell him that your Mom wanted another taste of it, yet he delivered anyway.

“How are you guys doing it?” Haneul whines, a bit red in the face since he’s already had a few beers before your cousins all left. “When my ex-girlfriend moved to another city, it only took two weeks for us to break up. Long distance is the bane of everyone’s existence.”

“Everyone but ours,” Mingyu says before clinking his glass with yours. “You just have to communicate with each other constantly. If you’re honest about everything both of you are feeling, then it’ll be easier to work things out together.”

It’s so easy for him to say these kinds of things. As if your relationship didn’t go to ruin because of the long distance that always kept the two of you apart. You feel a bit bad for having Mingyu lie to your brother right in his face, but you tell yourself that you’re already here anyway.

You’ll just have to fake it until you make it.

“But what if the other party doesn’t want to talk about it?” Haneul sighs, tracing the rim of his own glass with his finger. “I wanted to make it work. I really did. But she… She didn’t even want to try anymore. Lost faith in us so quickly, I could hardly believe she even loved me.”

You know Haneul is just drunkenly rambling about his grievances with his ex. He called you about it a few years ago, long before you even met Mingyu, and you consoled him by saying that his ex-girlfriend never deserved his love in the first place.

But even if you know the circumstances that led to your split with Mingyu are completely different, you can’t help but find similarities between the stories.

You broke up with Mingyu on the first day of spring. When the snow was just beginning to thaw, and the wind started to bring in a warmer climate. They’d just gone back from tour, and you know you’re not the only one feeling the tightly-wound strings of your relationship beginning to fray at the seams.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but I don’t think we’re going to work, Gyu,” you murmured, not having the guts to meet his eyes. “I think it’s best if we just focused on our careers.”

You thought he’d throw a fit. Or at least ask you a bunch of questions. Did he do something wrong? Is he not enough? Yet Mingyu simply flashed you a sad smile before nodding right back at you.

“Okay,” he said with a kind of resignation that breaks your heart to hear. “Thank you for being with me all this time.”

In the present, Mingyu shifts beside you on the table—abruptly startling you out of that impromptu trip down memory lane.

“Then, you’ll just have to take it in stride, Haneul-ah,” he murmurs before throwing back the rest of his drink. Mingyu manages a tight-lipped smile that pains you to look at. “If you really love her, you’ll respect whatever choice she’s come to make in the end. Even if that choice doesn’t involve you anymore. Even if it hurts to see her walk away after everything you’ve built together.”

When Mingyu turns to look at you, you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth.

“It’s a good thing I never have to experience that with your sister, though. She loves me too much to let me go.”

Haneul huffs from across the table before rising to his feet. “You two are so in love it’s actually disgusting. You know what, let’s just go to sleep.”

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing in the middle of your bedroom as Mingyu gets ready to sleep. He seems to be talking to someone on the phone inside your bathroom, but you purposely decide not to listen in. It was probably his manager or one of the other boys checking in on him.

You don’t wait for him to finish when you climb under the sheets, leaving enough space for him to occupy on the mattress, should he decide to share it with you tonight. There’s also an extra blanket folded on his side of the bed, since Mingyu’s a notorious blanket hogger, and you’d rather not wrestle that six-foot hunk of muscle for warmth.

Mingyu takes so long on that phone call of his that by the time he finishes, you’re already fast asleep, curled up while facing the wall so you wouldn’t have to face him. He chuckles, lingering just a few seconds longer by the doorframe of the bathroom. How long has it been since he’s last seen your face under the peaceful guise of slumber?

It’s been too long, and he isn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to commit the sight into memory.

…

Sometime in the middle of the night, you’re rudely roused by the sudden drop in temperature.

It’s only the beginning of autumn, but you noticed that it’s a lot colder than usual. Even if you already have a cozy blanket draped right on top of you. You sigh, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable before realizing that you’re not exactly alone.

Much like yourself, Mingyu is blinking out the drowsiness in his eyes as he turns to look at you with a question in his sleepy gaze. You shake your head in a wordless attempt to tell him not to worry.

“You’ve been tossing and turning for thirty minutes now,” he says, and hearing his throaty voice in person doesn’t even compare to that phone call you shared a week ago. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “It’s cold, and it isn’t even winter yet.”

He looks at you for a while, as if thinking of what to say before he reaches out for you and tugs you into his arms. Even if you’re practically half-asleep, the sudden action kickstarts your brain into motion, and you struggle against his grip all while whispering, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“You told me back then I’m as good as a furnace on cold days,” he mumbles as he tucks you into his chest—making you hyper aware of every ridge of his toned chest through his shirt. “If it bothers you so much, just think of it as a favor from one friend to another. How’s that sound?”

Friend. You know that’s all that Mingyu is to you these days, and all you are to him, but even in this drowsy haze you’re in, the word still feels like an insult. A word meant to scorn the time you’ve spent as lovers.

Just thinking about Mingyu as a friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, so instead of answering him, you cave and burrow yourself into his warmth—something that he seems pleased with, if the satisfied sound that rumbles in his chest is anything to go by.

He holds you in his arms the same way he did last Christmas, but there’s an unfamiliar sense of possessiveness sinking uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. You know you shouldn’t think of what he’s doing as anything but a favor between friends. You’re perfectly aware that, as the person who officially ended things between the both of you, you have no right to yearn for something you already gave up on.

But when Mingyu tilts your head up so you can meet his sleepy eyes, you don’t even put up a fight when he presses his lips to yours.

It doesn’t seem like he planned on doing anything beyond that. In fact, you don’t think he meant to do it at all. Just a heat-of-the-moment decision that the two of you could just forget about come morning.

However, the moment he starts to pull away, you force a hand across the back of his head, crushing your lips back together as you hook one of your thighs across his hips. Mingyu groans into the kiss, large hands migrating to your waist as he reciprocates your newfound hunger like you knew he would. His touch leaves trails of fire tingling across your skin, and every time his canines graze your bottom lip, you quietly moan into his mouth.

This is stupid. You’re both being incredibly stupid. The walls are anything but soundproof, and your parents are sleeping just across the hall.

Yet you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when Mingyu is making your body remember what it feels like to have him all over you like this.

You missed him. His heat. His touch. His kiss. Everything. You missed him so much that it hurts. You missed him so much that when Mingyu’s fingers start to glide along the exposed flesh of your thighs, you detach your lips from his before pushing him away.

You missed Kim Mingyu with the intensity of a dying star collapsing in on itself, of black holes tearing through reality, but this isn’t how you should go about it.

“Let’s…” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice to carry out your message. “Let’s just sleep.”

Mingyu doesn’t argue. He rarely does. But neither do you when he tugs you back in the caging embrace of his warmth.

For the first time in weeks, you find yourself drifting off into undisturbed slumber.

…

The next morning, you’re set to go back to Seoul, and by some stroke of luck, so is Mingyu. Still, the two of you decide to stick around until lunch time—neither of you breathing a word about what just happened last night.

But while Mingyu starts to load both of your things into the trunk of his car, your mother asks you for a favor at the last minute.

“Can you bring Namja along with you back to the city?” she asks. “He’s been really listless before you and Mingyu arrived. Your father and I were starting to get worried, and figured you might have to do a check up first.”

You raise an eyebrow at her claim, not really noticing anything amiss about your retriever’s health, aside from the usual signs of age. He’s ten years old, turning eleven this year, so it isn’t such a mystery to see that Namja isn’t as hyperactive as he was as a puppy. But then again, your mother has spot-on intuition about all the strangest things, so you indulge her request in the end.

Besides, having a pet of your own to keep you company doesn’t sound so bad.

Fortunately, Mingyu is more than hospitable when you ask if you could bring Namja along for the ride—promising that he’s car-trained, and won’t make a mess as long as you pull over from time to time. In fact, your ex seems more elated with the idea of your goldie joining the road trip than you are.

“I can come visit Namja in Seoul whenever I want now, right?” he asks with a soft laugh, and you wanted to reply with, Yeah, if you aren’t always so far away, that is, but choose not to.

The two of you take shifts in driving as usual. Whoever isn’t behind the wheel is in charge of entertaining Namja in the backseat so he wouldn’t end up whining for attention the whole drive back. It’s a setup that you’re pretty okay with, since it minimizes any sort of window for you and Mingyu to have a conversation. God knows you’re not exactly ready to talk about…whatever happened last night.

So instead, you ask him about a bunch of trivial things so he doesn’t get any ideas.

“You sure your manager is okay with you returning the car while it reeks of Namja?” you laugh before switching lanes on the freeway. “He might not take the news that he sheds very lightly.”

Mingyu chuckles before scratching behind Namja’s ears. “I promised I’d have it cleaned before I returned it to the office building. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm. Whatever you say.”

By your third stop-over, you decide to give Namja some food and water while Mingyu gets takeout for the both of you at a nearby fast food chain. You stretch out your limbs while your retriever happily laps from his water bowl, wondering how much longer it’s going to take before you reach Seoul.

Before you have to part ways with Mingyu again.

You’re startled out of your train of thought when you see Mingyu practically sprinting back to the car, his sunglasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. Namja glances up at him quizzically, and you have to stifle a laugh.

“Yeah, a bunch of fans spotted me in line, so we might have to get food back in the city instead,” he explains hurriedly as he helps tidy up Namja’s food and water bowls. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

After his meal, Namja is sated and sleepy—content with resting his head on your thigh as you watch the streetlights blur past the windows. Mingyu is a much faster driver than you are, so he’s able to cut the travel time shorter than it would have been had it been you behind the wheel. But the lack of anything to do has you quietly staring at Mingyu from the backseat while his eyes are glued to the road.

You can’t help but let your gaze linger on his strong arms, and the fact that you were tucked safely between them the night prior. But that’s your first mistake because now, you’re thinking about those desperate kisses you shared in the privacy of your room. Touching each other like you both feared the other would disappear if you didn’t pull them close enough.

You shake your head. No. This isn’t how friends should think about each other.

Whatever happened back in Haenam, you’re just going to have to leave it there.

It’s already past eight in the evening when Mingyu eases the car into your neighborhood, and you try not to think much of the fact that he still knows where you live.

“Guess that concludes our weekend getaway,” Mingyu says the moment he finishes helping you carry your stuff back inside your apartment. “Though it seems that someone’s getting pretty cozy really quickly.”

Namja is already familiarizing himself with his new home, wandering around the living room all while sniffing everything in his path. You stifle a soft laugh.

“Yeah. I guess it is,” you murmur before managing a kind smile. “Thanks for having my back, Mingyu. It…means a lot. Really, it does.”

He laughs softly, eyes trailing around the living room with a curiosity that isn’t so different from Namja’s. “You have your first boyfriend with you now. I can rest easy knowing you’re in good company.”

Your face flushes at the thought that Mingyu still remembers the reasoning behind Namja’s namesake. Namjachingu. When he was still a puppy, you said Namja was your first boyfriend, and that you didn’t need anyone else.

He lived up to his title for years, too—always acting hostile around past boyfriends that you did end up bringing to your parents’ house despite coming from a friendly breed. The only boyfriend that your first boyfriend seemed to approve of is the man standing right in front of you, just when you thought you would never see him again within the four corners of your house.

“You know,” Mingyu begins, hesitation crossing his face for a split second before he meets your eyes. “My family’s in Seoul for Chuseok, too. I told Minseo to bring Bobpul and Baptori, and you might want to schedule a little playdate between my kids and yours.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Where’s Aji?”

“Too old to travel around,” he chuckles. “But I’m sure the other two can keep Namja company just fine. Join us tomorrow for dinner. What do you say?”

You hesitate. This should’ve been where you drew the line. Mingyu has already helped you out of your initial predicament. You really shouldn’t create any more problems for yourself by joining his family for a late Chuseok dinner. In fact…

“What, you haven’t told your family that we split either?” you ask, half-jokingly, half-seriously.

“No, they know.” Mingyu shakes his head. “But they’ve always liked you too, so I see no harm in getting everyone to hang out in one place.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “You know this is just going to make things more complicated, right?”

When he flashes you that toothy grin, you already know that this is a losing battle.

“It does, but it’s still going to be fun,” he says. “So, are you coming?”

Sometimes, you wish you never met Mingyu at all. Maybe your life wouldn’t be so fucking difficult.

“Fine.”

…

The next day, you bring Namja to the clinic, and Chae is more than happy to see the brand new addition to the workforce. But while she’s giving your goldie more pets than he probably deserves, you ask if you have any clients coming this morning that called in advance.

“Oh, there’s this one guy who’s bringing in a maltese today,” she says, laughing a little when Namja whines at the fact that her attention is divided. “I think his name was… Seungkwan? Something like that. He has some records from last year, but he hasn’t been back since.”

Seungkwan’s coming today? Huh. Talk about coincidence.

You tell Chae about how Seungkwan and Mingyu belong to the same group, and your receptionist is adept enough to catch on to what you’re trying to say. She’s all too quick to suggest plans on how to mitigate the fans from flocking the entrance to the clinic, like that one time when Mingyu was too lax in disguising himself from anyone who could recognize him.

But when Seungkwan arrives at your door, you remember that he’s one of the members that doesn’t particularly like being crowded by people, even if they are his fans.

He’s dressed discreetly—dark shades, a beanie, and a black face mask—while carrying an adorable pet carrier that’s probably worth half your monthly salary. Seungkwan is so straight-to-the-point with carrying out his business with you, that it’s hard to believe you and him used to joke around like old friends a year ago.

But for some reason, when Chae excuses herself to answer a phone call, the façade he puts up falls apart in seconds.

“Noona, you have no idea how much I missed you!” he wails before throwing his arms around you. “Other vets just don’t cut it for Bookkeu! They’re always either too mean or too lax with her. You handled her just right today. Can’t believe Mingyu-hyung always calls you her worst enemy.”

You chuckle before patting his back, and Seungkwan pulls away with a pout on his face. “Hey, you guys are the ones who ghosted me after Mingyu and I broke up. You’re always welcome to come back to have your pets checked—non-showbiz girlfriend or not.”

“That hyung of mine is stupid,” Seungkwan scoffs as he scoops Bookkeu into his arms. “Well, you’re kind of the same way, but I can’t exactly call you stupid or you might take it out on Bookkeu—”

“I would do no such thing, Seungkwan-ah,” you complain.

“Okay, it’s just my personal opinion that maybe you two didn’t have to split up at all,” he huffs. “Mingyu-hyung has become more and more listless since you broke up with him. He might look like his usual self on camera, but when we’re not recording anything? He’s always so lost in thought! It gets on Coups-hyung’s nerves sometimes.”

Listless, huh…

Your mother said the exact same thing about Namja. Speaking of, your gaze drifts over to your goldie who’s staring outside the door to your clinic, like he’s waiting for Chae to come back and shower him with attention again.

Is Seungkwan insinuating that he and Mingyu aren’t so different?

“Maybe he’s just going through a blue period,” you suggest before writing up a prescription for the vitamins that Bookkeu will have to take for the next two weeks. “It’s been so long since we broke up. I doubt he’s acting that way because of me.”

Seungkwan breathes in deeply, like he’s just barely able to contain the urge to slap some sense into you. “Noona, listen to me. Kim Mingyu is catastrophically in love with you. When you called that night when we were sharing a hotel room in New York, it was the first time I saw him look so genuinely happy for reasons that aren’t related to our music. But that hyung of mine is too selfless for his own good.”

You startle a bit when he suddenly lifts Bookkeu closer to you and points her adorable face in your line of sight.

“He wants you back, but he’ll never admit it, especially when you made your choice clear all those months ago,” Seungkwan says before pushing his maltese even closer to you. “But now, something tells me that you’re still hung up on him, just as much as he’s hung up on you—if all the things he told me about your trip to Haenam are true, that is.”

Huh. That time he took so long in the bathroom… He must’ve been talking to Seungkwan.

“Okay, but why does it feel like you’re using Bookkeu to threaten me into doing something?” You laugh softly. “Seungkwan, our time is up. And it’s not something we can just take back whenever we feel like it.”

“Wh—! Don’t you think things are only that way because both of you are making it more complicated than it should be?” He sighs, exasperated. “Also, yes I am using Bookkeu to threaten you. Promise that you’ll at least talk to Mingyu-hyung about this? We can’t stand seeing him so out of it anymore. Come on, you can’t resist those cute puppy eyes, right?”

You sigh, half-considering pointing out that Bookkeu is, by no means, a puppy anymore, but then again, you still call Namja that despite being more than a decade old.

“Alright, alright,” you relent. “I’m meeting his family tonight for dinner anyways. Might as well clear the air.”

Seungkwan gasps, a comical expression rooting itself on his face. “See! You’re having dinner with his family, too?! If you’re not back together by the time we fly back to the U.S., I'm never talking to either of you ever again.”

Now, it’s your turn to pout. “Who are you going to go to for Bookkeu’s check-ups then?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again before letting out a petulant huff. You can’t help the snicker that bubbles in your chest as Seungkwan tilts his chin up with indignance.

“Point taken,” he says before narrowing his eyes and pointing his index finger at you. “But I’m expecting Kim Mingyu to come back to the dorms later, happy and not heartbroken. Okay?”

You raise your hands before handing him your written prescription. “No promises.”

When Chae returns inside the clinic, you physically have to hold Namja down just so she can give Seungkwan a receipt for today’s visit. Your mother was right, he definitely was growing lonely back in Haenam. You haven’t seen him this excited in years.

Seungkwan bids you another, more formal goodbye, now that you're not alone anymore. He doesn’t need to reiterate what he asked of you out loud—the look in his eyes is already telling enough.

Given that today is a bit of a slow day, you decide to run a few diagnostic tests on Namja just to confirm whether or not he’s silently carrying some sort of disease. But all his results came out normal, except for a clinically insignificant but still noticeable increase in his body sodium levels. Might have to cut down the treats for a few days.

Otherwise, he’s happy and healthy ten—going eleven—years into his lifespan. The reason for his lethargy back home must have something to do with innate loneliness after all.

Then you remember what Seungkwan told you about Mingyu. How he hasn’t really been himself since the breakup. You never really felt that during your time together in your hometown. He’s still the effortless charmer that you once fell in love with. The big softie that can get along with anyone and everyone, given the right circumstances.

Mingyu has always been a people pleaser. The last thing he wants to do is inconvenience others. So it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s been so out of it that even Seungcheol is starting to get pissed with his behavior.

The sound of Namja barking jolts you out of your thoughts before your goldie pads over to where you’re seated behind your desk, whining as he nuzzles your hands as if he knows you’re thinking a bit too hard about something distressful. You let out a quiet laugh, scratching behind his ears just like you know he likes.

“I wonder what I’m supposed to do,” you chuckle. “Maybe I should’ve been born as a dog instead. Thinking about all of this is giving me a headache.”

Namja growls before barking again. Like he doesn’t approve of the idea of not having you as his fur parent. You let out another laugh that’s a lot less quiet before you decide to pull out your phone and shoot Mingyu a text.

Are you picking me up later or not?

…

Dinner with Mingyu’s family is splendid

The outdoor restaurant his mother booked in advance probably serves the best songpyeon you’ve ever tasted in your life. Add that to the fact that they accommodate pets in their alfresco area, this could easily be one of the next places you’ll take your own parents for a meal when you bring them to Seoul for a quick getaway.

Namja is a bit shy around other animals—a result of being around no one but your family for so long. But when Minseo introduces him to both Bobpul and Baptori at the same time, the two little rascals easily coaxed your senior citizen goldie out of his shell. Next thing you know, they’re running around the outdoor dining area like a bunch of energetic pups.

“Unnie, are you back together with this guy?” Minseo asks in the middle of dessert, pointing her spoon accusingly at Mingyu. “You can do so much better than him, though.”

Their father laughs at their youngest’s comment, and their mother rubs Mingyu’s back as if she agrees, yet still wishes to console her son regardless. Mingyu is simply scowling at his family for how quick they are to throw him under the bus.

“Shut up, you sound just like Seungkwan,” he whines.

“Well, we’re both right.”

You let out a laugh of your own before scooping some ice cream into your mouth. Then, tentatively, you say, “Don’t say that. Gyu wasn’t that terrible of a boyfriend, you know?”

“He’s always so busy though. Doesn’t even have time to come visit Bobpul and our other dogs anymore,” Minseo sulks. “He even missed my graduation! Can you believe it?”

Mingyu pouts. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

She huffs. “Not sorry enough!”

“Well, for starters, even if he is ridiculously busy, he still makes sure to call me before he goes to bed after a particularly tough schedule,” you say. “He also answers my calls even if our time zones are different, and it’s an ungodly hour where he currently is. Then when he finally comes back to Korea, he’ll give a bunch of gifts that reminded him of me on his trip overseas.”

You don’t know what compelled you to do so, but the words just gush out naturally. It was a little difficult the first time Mingyu had to hop on a plane to some other country to film some content with the boys, but you eventually got used to it, and managed to make a couple work-arounds.

Now that you think about it, if you were so used to it, why’d you decide it was best for you to part ways when he got back from tour? It’s been so long that you don’t even know the logic behind the reasoning anymore. You just remember feeling like it was the best decision at the time. And you were right—your careers have definitely thrived even after the breakup.

As you continue telling Minseo and their parents about how much of a catch the eldest son of the Kim family really is, you fail to notice the way Mingyu’s eyes never leave you the entire time. Soft, with just a hint of yearning that you’ll only be able to notice if you knew what you were looking for.

“Ugh, fine,” Minseo huffs, and you don’t think she and Seungkwan are all that different from each other. “This is the first time I’ve seen a couple that’s broken up months ago talk about each other so fondly, still. You sure you two aren’t secretly dating again?”

“Minseo,” their mother scolds before flashing you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about her. Minseo’s just been really snappy lately. Must be because she missed Mingyu here very much.”

She rolls her eyes. “As if I’ll miss that credit-grabbing punk. He didn’t even acknowledge me in his latest Instagram post!”

“Speaking of dating again,” their father interjects before taking a sip of his wine. “Minseo’s right about one thing at least. You and Mingyu still have chemistry after so long. What’s stopping you from getting back together again?”

At your side, Mingyu flashes his father a cautionary look. “Dad, that’s a really inappropriate question, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, of course. My apologies. This old man is really just…curious, so to speak.”

He bows his head slightly, and you make a little gesture that insists you took no offense. But the inquiry definitely made you think for a moment.

It’s like everyone you know completely supports the idea of you and Mingyu just burying the hatchet and rekindling your relationship. But didn’t they consider the logistics of it? You’re a full-time vet and Mingyu’s a full-time idol that travels out of Korea at least once a month. Though you’re a bit unsure of it now, that still played a part in why you called it quits in the first place.

Even when Mingyu took it upon himself to drive you and Namja back to your apartment, his father’s question still lingers in the back of your mind.

What’s stopping you from getting back together again?

The answer is pretty simple, but it’s not something you’re ready to face just yet.

It’s you. You’re the only one keeping yourselves from reigniting what you once thought was already lost. Your guilt. Your regrets. Your fears. You didn’t need a verbal confirmation to know that Mingyu would drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant you’ll take him back again. But as much as your friends joke about how you deserve better than Mingyu, you’re convinced it’s the other way around.

Mingyu deserves someone who can reciprocate the love he’s so willing to give tenfold. Someone who doesn’t flake out when he needs them most.

Someone who isn’t you.

When he pulls over a red light, he lets out a sigh as he checks the text messages that popped up on his phone. After a few scrolls he says, “Oh. Jeonghan-hyung texted about some party in Gangnam. Do you want to—”

“Gyu,” you whisper, eyes riveted on the busy street. “What are we doing?”

He blinks. “Celebrating Chuseok together?”

“But we’re friends right?” You laugh somewhat bitterly. “Friends don’t normally celebrate the entirety of their Chuseok weekend bonding with each other’s families. Friends don’t make out with each other in the middle of the night. And…”

You let out a shuddering sigh before adding, “Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me.”

You can clearly hear the sound of his breath hitching even if you don’t turn to look at him. It seems like he was about to say something in return, but the stoplight turns green, and he’s back to pulling his focus on the road instead of you.

In the backseat, you can hear Namja whining—ever the empath, that one. You immediately feel him pawing against your seat, as if silently asking what’s wrong. Turning around, you give him a few reassuring pats, not wanting to get claw marks all over Mingyu’s borrowed car.

The two of you are completely silent as he walks you back to the front door of your apartment. You know he didn’t have to, yet he did anyway. How Mingyu of him.

When you finally muster the courage to look up at him and bid him good night, Mingyu grabs your wrist—forcing you to meet his desperate gaze.

“If I told you I wanted you back, would anything change? No, right?” he whispers, voice tinged with so much emotion, you can feel your own heart ache at the sound of it. “So I’m sorry if I’m being selfish for inviting you to every place I could think of. If I want to spend as much time with you as I can because I know I won’t ever get the chance to do so if I let this pass.”

When he presses your foreheads together, the look in his eyes is so smoldering, you can’t bear to look away. This is what a man that’s been yearning for you for months looks like, it seems.

And you don’t think you can keep resisting him for long.

“Before I get thrown back into that haywire of a schedule again,” he whispers, and you feel every breath fan across your skin, “can’t you at least let me have this? Let me have you?”

You don’t even know who it is that lunges in for the kiss. The next thing you know, Mingyu has you pressed up against your front door, devouring your lips where all your neighbors can see. But you don’t care. Not when he’s desperately holding your body flush against his as you reclaim what’s always been yours.

He whispers a bunch of things along the column of your neck as he loosens the strings holding your dress together from behind. Some sweet, some endearing, and others a touch too filthy for others to hear aloud. You stifle your little gasps when he wraps a strong arm around your waist, nudging your thighs apart with his knees so you can feel the hardness straining against his middle.

“It’s you,” he murmurs against your feverish skin, teeth grazing across your flesh ever-so lightly. “It’s always been you. And it will always be you.”

You know Mingyu is a good actor. But it’s so earth-shatteringly different to hear the raw desperation in his voice. How earnest he is in telling you just how much he still loves you without saying the words outright. You can only dream of being as honest with your true feelings as he is.

But tonight, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with letting yourself fall.

In the midst of your mounting desire for each other, though, a lone whine in the night snaps both you and Mingyu out of your newfound vigor. You nearly forgot about Namja, who’s impatiently waiting for either of you to open the front door so he can finally take a nap. You glance at Mingyu, and he glances right back, before the two of you burst out laughing like a couple of teenagers without a care in the world.

Once you’ve gotten your needy retriever settled outside, Mingyu practically tosses you on the bed the moment the door to your room clicks shut—all too eager to cage you between his arms as he continues where you left off.

The suit he wore tonight looked a bit too good on his frame, but now you want nothing more than to claw it off him. He chuckles, sensing your desperation as he shrugs off his coat and unbuttons his dress shirt along the way.

“I don’t remember you being this desperate for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning down to grasp your face as he strokes your heated skin with his thumb. “I can’t say I hate the development though.”

“Mingyu,” you whimper as you guide his thumb to your lips, suckling on it in a way that you know makes him lose his mind every time. “Please. I want you.”

It’s so easy to be honest with yourself. You wonder why you’ve struggled with doing that for so long, but then you remember that your brain is fogged with desire for the man that’s currently staring you down like he’s doing everything in his power not to fuck you into the mattress right away.

But at that moment, you throw all logic and caution in the wind in exchange for taking even more of Mingyu’s thick fingers into your mouth.

“So good for me,” he whispers when he sees you inch your knees apart to welcome him in between. The hand that’s not being fellated by your tongue finds its way to the apex of your thighs—cupping your clothed heat in a way that makes you moan around his fingers. “How badly do you want me, sweet thing?”

“So, so badly,” you manage to wrench out despite your mouth being full, rutting your hips to introduce some friction between your aching pussy and his hand. “Please, Gyu…”

When he’s satisfied, his free hand migrates to your thighs, spreading you further apart as he brings his lubricated fingers to your sopping core. There’s something so fucking hot in the way he just nudges your panties to the side—groaning when he finds you already soaked for him.

“You need something to stretch out this pretty little pussy, don’t you?” he murmurs into your ear, nipping at the lobe just the way you like it. “You want my fingers or my cock, babygirl? Better choose wisely.”

You want to say that you’re too fucking horny for foreplay, but also remember that each time you had sex with Mingyu in the past, the stretch of his massive cock can be quite uncomfortable if he doesn’t prep you. With how long it’s been since you’ve laid in bed together, you don’t want to rush into it without thinking of the consequences after.

So, you mewl, “Fingers first. Then your cock.”

Mingyu laughs—a deep, sexy sound—before planting a kiss on your nose. “That’s my girl.”

He carefully eases one digit into your hole, eyes never leaving your face as he gauges your reactions. Part of you wishes to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry so much. That you still trust him with your own body even after all this time. You don’t say anything aloud, but Mingyu seems to get the gist from the look in your eyes either way, surging forward so he can press his lips back onto yours as he loosens you up.

“You’re always so quick to get wet for me, baby,” he sighs, stifling the noise that escapes you when he slides in a second finger to test the resistance of your walls. “You’ve no idea how much I missed this. Missed you .”

“Gyu, I—” Your breath hitches once he curls his fingers just so, making your legs rise involuntarily off the mattress, but Mingyu pins one of your thighs down with his free hand.

“What was that?”

He’s teasing. He rarely ever does that. You shoot him a petulant look before taking his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging hard enough to coax a groan out of him.

“I missed you, too,” you whisper. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good.”

A dozen emotions flit through Mingyu’s face in the span of a millisecond, but the one that remains is something not so different from longing. You hear him sigh a couple of words that you don’t quite catch before he’s taking his fingers out of your sopping cunt and pulling away from you. Just when you’re about to voice out a complaint, he starts undoing his trousers, kicking them away to some uncharted part of your bedroom before working on the rest of his dress shirt.

Not-so-newsflash: your ex-boyfriend is still fucking hot.

But he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re reacting to the sultry way in which he peels his clothes off—dark eyes still trained on your pliant form on the bed. As Mingyu palms himself through his boxers, you can’t help but press your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come.

There was a time when he railed you so good, you legitimately couldn’t walk straight the next day. You wonder if he plans on reenacting the whole thing tonight.

“Let’s get you out of that dress, sweetheart,” he breathes before gently guiding you back into a seated position, tugging at the hem of your dress before tossing it to the side.

You feel your cheeks warm when he stares at the underwear set you have on tonight. Plain cotton panties and plain cotton bra. In your defense, you really didn’t expect to get laid tonight.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mingyu chuckles. It’s either he can read minds or he still knows you well enough to figure out what you’re thinking. “I’m taking everything off anyways.”

As he makes quick work of what’s left of your clothing, you distantly remember the last conversation you had with Seungkwan. How you told him you’d ‘clear the air’ with Mingyu right after having dinner with his family.

You’re pretty sure what you’re doing right now is only blurring the lines even more, but you don’t really fucking care right now.

You let out a hushed moan when Mingyu latches his mouth onto your nipple, massaging your other breast as he swirls the appendage across your sensitive skin. His free arm snakes itself behind the curve of your waist, pressing you against his firm body while rutting his hips against the bed.

He’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, and it fills you with a heady sort of hunger that only Mingyu can alleviate.

“Can I?” he whispers.

You feel his teeth graze across the skin of your chest, making your toes curl with anticipation. It’s been a while, but you can’t easily forget how much of a biter Mingyu is in bed. He loves leaving his marks on your body, and even if you always complain about how hard it is to cover them up, you let him do as he pleases every single time.

“Yes,” you whimper, rubbing your bare pussy against the ridge of his abs. “Do whatever you want with me, Gyu.”

The sound you let out once he finally bites down is caught between a yelp and a moan, your fingers threading across his hair as he suckles on your skin. He’s such a talker in bed, too—whispering all sorts of endearments that are too soft for you to hear, but add fuel to your growing desire regardless.

“So fucking pretty,” he says once he detaches himself from your breasts and marvels at his own work. The fruit of his effort is yet to become visible, but he’s left enough angry red marks on your skin to guarantee the lovebites they’ll turn into come morning. “And it’s all for me.”

Lacing your fingers around his nape, you mold your lips together in another kiss, tongues dancing to the rhythm of your erratic heartbeat as you grind yourself against his toned stomach.

“Mingyu,” you whimper against his mouth—hot and heavy. “I need you inside me. Need to get stretched on your cock.”

He groans again, fisting your hair so that he can kiss you even deeper. As he busies you with his mind-numbing kisses, Mingyu gets rid of his boxers in a flash—positioning himself between your thighs. You nearly cry out when you feel the fat head of his cock sliding against your soaking slit. When he grazes your sensitive clit, you could’ve sworn tears started together in the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck, babygirl, so fucking wet for me,” he sighs as he lays you back down on the bed and eases your knees further apart.

You bite your lip at the sight of his cock, still as long and girthy as you remember. Mingyu pumps his length all while sliding the head across your cunt, but you let out another desperate mewl to just fuck you already.

“Shhh,” he says, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Let me take my time with you, sweetheart. I want you to commit all of this to memory. Gonna have you feeling me inside you for days.”

And you don’t doubt that. Kim Mingyu has a knack for making it hard for people to forget about him, and if he plans to fuck the shape of his cock into your pussy, who are you to complain?

When you feel his cock catch across your entrance, you genuinely wonder if it’s going to hurt. Mingyu’s attempt at foreplay was cut halfway through because he got distracted by his sudden desire to leave a trail of love bites all over your breasts. But the thing about having sex with Mingyu is that your comfort is his top priority.

He would never do anything that he knows can hurt you.

“I’ll go slow, alright?” he whispers, and all you can manage is a nod. “Words, baby. You have to talk to me so I’ll know if you really want it.”

“Gyu,” you whine, arching your hips in a feeble attempt to get him to fuck into you. “I’m alright. Anything you do is alright with me, just— Please. Please fuck me full.”

He sighs, staring down like he doesn’t know what to do with you before finally, finally, you feel his dick breach your entrance—pushing inch by delicious inch inside you with restrained hunger. You fist the sheets at the familiar stretch, but it’s not so uncomfortable that the sensation burns. You’ve taken Mingyu’s cock dozens of times before, and it seems that your body still knows how to accommodate his ridiculous size.

“Pretty pussy’s happy to see me again,” he chuckles, his grip on your thighs tightening ever-so slightly. “Still made to fit me so snuggly. Did you miss my cock, sweet thing? I can feel you pulsing around me.”

“Yes,” you drawl. “Missed your cock so fucking much, Gyu. Fuck—”

You feel so hot, so full. It’s like Mingyu’s the only thing you’ve ever known—surrounding you in every direction until all that floats in your lust-addled mind are the letters of his name. Once he buries himself to the hilt, Mingyu doesn’t move right away, still so attentive to your reactions that even if you want nothing more than for him to rail you into the mattress, he won’t press forward until he’s sure you’re ready.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Do you need more time to get used to me?”

Something similar to a growl reverberates in your chest as you stare at Mingyu hard. “What I need is…for you to fuck me until I black out.”

Mingyu’s lips turn up into a grin as he shakes his head. “Baby, the last thing I want to be is some sex-deprived savage after we’ve been apart for so long. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Then, he leans forward on the bed again, bringing his lips right next to your ear.

“But I can still make you feel good.”

He prefaces the words with a powerful thrust that you don’t expect, splaying your thighs further until they’re flat against the mattress. The slide of his cock still feels so unbelievably good that even if the sudden stretch should’ve been uncomfortable, you’re too blindsided by the pleasure to notice.

Your eyes trail across the beautiful man above you as he fucks you in his favorite position. Mingyu has always had a thing for missionary—something about wanting to see your face as he wrecks you. You think you’re starting to share the same sentiment because not only do you get to see his fat cock slide in and out of your sopping cunt, but you can admire all of him at once, as well.

The exertion in those toned arms with every forward thrust. The conspicuous outline of his pecs. That toned fucking stomach. That gorgeous fucking face, so lost in the velvet heat of your pussy—

Why did you ever think letting someone like this go was a good idea?

“You’re going to laugh at me for this but,” Mingyu breathes, chuckling to himself. “I think I’m kinda close.”

You do laugh, but it’s quickly silenced when one of his fingers finds your clit, rubbing it in quick, precise circles like he hasn’t forgotten how to get you off after all this time.

“I am, too,” you tell him. “Cock so fucking good, you can make me come in minutes.”

Mingyu lets out another guttural noise as he presses your knees to your chest, throwing your legs over his shoulder with a look in his eyes that promises nothing but pleasure. Though his fingers have departed your puffy clit, the angle he has you bent in has his cock easily grazing your g-spot with every thrust—reducing you into a pathetic, mewling mess underneath him.

“Your pussy’s a fucking drug, babygirl,” he sighs. “Haven’t wanted anyone else after you.”

Even in your cock-drunk haze, those words bring forth some semblance of clarity within you. But it’s immediately snuffed out when Mingyu amps up the cadence of his thrusts, fucking into you with the intention of bringing you to completion at the same time he achieves it. Your eyes are screwed shut, fingers finding purchase across the ripping muscles of his back as you babble an incoherent mantra of yes, yes, so close, so fucking close, love how you fuck me, love how you make me feel full—

And then, it’s over—a white hot flash like stars bursting behind your eyelids. You curl into Mingyu’s embrace as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, and he’s all too glad to help you ride it out, pistoning inside your spasming walls with a rhythm that’s starting to stagger.

“So goddamn tight,” he growls. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart?”

You’re still too blissed out to give him a proper response, but from the way your legs tighten themselves around his waist, Mingyu figures that that’s the green light he needs to make a mess out of you. Mingyu sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck before biting down—his cock twitching in the heat of your cunt as his release gushes into you in thick globs.

He comes so much that when Mingyu does pull out of your abused pussy, his essence trickles out of your hole as you do your best to catch your breath. The world is just starting to return to its normal axis in your vision, and the first thing that your eyes focus on is the sight of Mingyu smiling at you so fondly, it makes your heart hurt.

The look scares you. Like he’s about to say something that you don’t know how to respond to.

So instead of giving him any leeway for conversation, you tug him back down into a tongue-filled kiss, rubbing your ruined pussy across his still hard length as you mewl against his lips.

“More,” you whimper. “I need more, Gyu.”

And he’s all too happy to oblige.

Mingyu slides himself back inside you with an ease that wasn’t present earlier—your mixed arousal acting as a good enough lubricant to accommodate him. His erratic breathing as he fucks his cum deeper inside you only serves to turn you on even more, making another orgasm creep ever-so slightly beneath your skin.

“Babygirl can’t get enough of this cock, can you?” he sighs. “Seems to me like your pussy never wants me to leave.”

“Yes!” you hiss, moving your hips in time with his as you desperately claw at his back. “Love your cock so much, please—”

“Come for me again, sweet thing, I know you can do it.”

It’s unbelievable how a few choice words can get your body to submit to his whims without much thought. Unlike your first orgasm, the second one that Mingyu coaxes out of you singes through every functional nerve-ending in your body—sending you into a flurry of overstimulation that has you twitching under his touch.

Just when you thought Mingyu’s finally done with you, however, he suddenly flips you onto your stomach—pressing your chest against the mattress while your ass is high in the air. The sudden change in positions makes your head spin, but you’re too dazed to protest.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s showing you that same smile you fell in love with a lifetime ago.

“You can give me a few more orgasms, right, baby?”

When he slides his still hard cock along your swollen cunt, you groan into the sheets—having momentarily forgotten that Mingyu’s stamina can go until morning. If you don’t stop him now, he might actually fuck you until you black out, despite his earlier refutal.

But honestly? You’re not against the idea. Not one bit.

…

When you wake up the following day, it’s to cold sheets and the startling clarity of Mingyu’s absence.

You never minded living alone. You’ve been doing it since your first year of college here in Seoul. You’re used to waking up with nothing but the silence of your room to keep you company.

Even when you eventually got together with Mingyu, lonely mornings have always been a staple, especially on days where he has early schedules. It fills you with a sinking feeling to see that he isn’t with you, but you’ve learned to take it in stride.

Besides…it’s not like you’re together anymore now.

This is what you wanted, right? For him to not treat…whatever this is as if it’s a relationship thing. The two of you were just heavily pent up, and caved into your mutual desires last night. There’s nothing more to it.

However, when you pad outside the bedroom after shrugging on a flimsy oversized shirt, the scent of pancakes and frying eggs fills your nose. When you see Namja sitting right next to a tall figure hunched over your stove, you can hardly believe your eyes.

He doesn’t notice you right away—too preoccupied with making the perfect breakfast to pick up on your presence. Namja, however, is more perceptive, glancing behind and perking up at the sight of you. He lets out an excited bark before skidding over to where you’re standing, and you crouch down to the floor so you can give him a tight hug.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Mingyu faces you with a smile that’s nearly blinding in the morning light, a spatula in one hand and a kitchen mitt in the other. It’s the exact same scene that you’re greeted with during lazy weekends where he doesn’t have any work to do, and your chest twists yet again at the memory.

“Yeah, I am.” You smile, rubbing Namja’s belly when he sprawls himself on the floor. “What are you still doing here? Don’t you have to go back to New York tonight?”

“Yes, but it’s still morning,” he points out, and you roll your eyes.

A few minutes later, Mingyu starts to set the table while you wash your hands. He tells you about how Seungkwan doesn’t want to room with him anymore over breakfast because Mingyu takes so long to close the lights when he’s binging a new drama. You tell him to be more considerate of his roommates or they might just dropkick him off the hotel room balcony in his sleep.

When you help him put away the dishes, the sight is so…domestic, it gives you whiplash. Bumping shoulders, splashing water, stifling mutual laughter... Being with him like this, tucked in your own little pocket of happiness makes your heart soar in ways that not even mind-blowing sex can help you attain.

You pray that Mingyu doesn’t breathe a word about it, but of course things don’t always go your way.

Just when you’re about to turn around to give Namja her morning fix of dog food, you find yourself trapped between the sink and Mingyu’s arms—unable to escape the fondness in his eyes even if you tried.

“I think,” he whispers, “we can still make this work. You and me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Gyu…”

You think so, too. With someone as understanding and compassionate as Mingyu, you know nothing’s impossible if you just quit being so stubborn. You were so afraid of him attempting to bring your relationship back to life last night, but…

Seeing him bathing under the sunlight in your kitchen after months of getting used to being alone again…

Maybe it isn’t so bad to let him back inside your heart.

“O-Of course, you don’t have to answer right away,” he says, turning red in the face. Cute. “You can tell me when I get back from New York. How’s that sound?”

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, but the moment is quickly shattered by the sound of Mingyu’s phone going off. He sighs, releasing you from the figurative cage of his arms as he leans against the sink right next to you—fishing his phone from his pocket before answering it in loudspeaker.

“Kim Mingyu, where the hell are you?!”

“Good morning to you, too, Seungkwan-ah,” he chuckles. “Why? What’s wrong? I told Jeonghan-hyung I won’t be coming back to the dorms until noon.”

“Well, Jeonghan-hyung must’ve forgotten to tell everyone else because the entire dorm panicked when we realized you didn’t make it home!” the younger man squawks. “We thought something bad happened! You weren’t answering your phone last night either!”

You and Mingyu exchanged knowing looks, and you have to stifle your laughter if you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Seungkwan’s rage, too.

“Sorry about that, I was a little…busy,” Mingyu supplies.

“Well, whatever you’ve been ‘busy’ with, you better get your ass back here! Manager-hyung is looking for the car you borrowed, and if you don’t bring it back soon, he’s going to give all of us an earful.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be back in thirty. Bye, Seungkwan.”

“Hey—!”

Mingyu ends the call with little remorse before letting out a long sigh. When his eyes dart back to yours, they flicker momentarily to your lips before he leans forward. You meet him halfway this time, pressing your mouths together in a firm kiss.

“I’ll be back,” he murmurs. “I hope you’ll still be willing to accommodate me when I do.”

Though it pains you, he peels himself away from your touch, leaning down to kiss Namja’s head as he gathers his coat in his arms. It just occurred to you that he’s been eating breakfast with you donned with the outfit he wore last night while you’re dressed in nothing but a loose, oversized shirt. The knowledge makes you blush a little.

When you hear Mingyu’s car drive away, you sigh, running your hands through your messy hair. Namja pads over to you, tail wagging as he anticipates another round of petting. Of course you indulge him.

“Kim Mingyu is such an idiot, isn’t he?” you tell your goldie, and you like to think the small huff he lets out means he’s agreeing with you. “Why wait until he comes back when I already have an answer for him?”

This time, Namja actually barks out loud, making you shake your head with a laugh.

You don’t mind waiting for Mingyu, really. He obviously doesn’t mind waiting for you. At this point, you’re at peace with the fact that you might still love him. Maybe, you never stopped loving him at all. Once he lands back in Korea and comes home to you, you promise yourself that you’ll definitely show him.

Again and again.

this is part of the doting on you! series.

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #fake dating #mingyu smut #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

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turnstileskyline · 9 months

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The Oral History of Take This To Your Grave – transcription under the cut

The pages that are just photographs, I haven't included. This post is already long enough.

Things that happened in 2003: Arnold Schwarzenegger became governor of California. Teen Vogue published its first issue. The world lost Johnny Cash. Johnny Depp appeared as Captain Jack Sparrow for the first time. A third Lord of the Rings movie arrived. Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, and Andy Hurley released Take This To Your Grave.

"About 21 years ago or so, as I was applying to colleges I would ultimately never go to, Fall Out Boy began as a little pop-punk side project of what we assumed was Pete's more serious band, Arma Angelus," Patrick wrote in a May 2023 social media post.

"We were sloppy and couldn't solidify a lineup, but the three of us (Pete, Joe, and I) were having way too much fun to give up on it."

"We were really rough around the edges. As an example of how rough, one of my favorite teachers pulled me aside after hearing the recording that would eventually become Evening Out With Your Girlfriend and tactfully said, 'What do you think your best instrument is, Patrick? Drums. It's drums. Probably not singing, Patrick.'"

"We went into Smart Studios with the Sean O'Keefe... So, there we were, 3/5 of a band with a singer who'd only been singing a year, no drummer, and one out of two guitarists. But we had the opportunity to record with Sean at Butch Vig's legendary studio.

"Eight or so months later, Fueled by Ramen would give us a contract to record the remaining songs. We'd sleep on floors, eat nothing but peanut butter and jelly, live in a van for the next three years, and somehow despite that, eventually play with Elton John and Taylor Swift and Jay-Z and for President Obama and the NFC championship, and all these other wildly unpredictable things. But none of that would ever come close to happening if Andy hadn't made it to the session and Joe hadn't dragged us kicking and screaming into being a band."

Two decades after its release, Take This To Your Grave sits comfortable in the Top 10 of Rolling Stone's 50 Greatest Pop-Punk Albums, edging out landmark records from Buzzcocks, Generation X, Green Day, The Offspring, Blink-182, and The Ramones.

It even ranked higher than Through Being Cool by Saves The Day and Jersey's Best Dancers from Lifetime, two records the guys in Fall Out Boy particularly revere.

Fall Out Boy's proper full-length debut on Fueled by Ramen is a deceptively smart, sugar-sweet, raw, energetic masterpiece owing as much to the bass player's pop culture passions, the singers deep love of R&B and soul, and their shared history in the hardcore scene as any pioneering punk band. Fall Out Boy's creative and commercial heights were still ahead, but Take This To Your Grave kicked it off, a harbinger for the enduring songwriting partnership between Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz, the eclectic contributions from Joe Trohman, and the propulsive powerhouse that is Andy Hurley.

The recordings document a special moment when Fall Out Boy was big in "the scene" but a "secret" from the mainstream. The band (and some of their friends) first sat down for an Oral History (which doubled as an Oral History of their origin story) with their old friend Ryan J. Downey, then Senior Editor for Alternative Press, upon the occasion of the album's 10th anniversary. What follows is an updated, sharper, and expanded version of that story, newly re-edited in 2023. As Patrick eloquently said: "Happy 20th birthday, Take This To Your Grave, you weird brilliant lightning strike accident of a record."

– Ryan J. Downey.

A Weird, Brilliant Lightning Strike Of A Record. The Oral History Of Fall Out Boy's Take This To Your Grave.

As told by:

Patrick Stump

Pete Wentz

Joe Trohman

Andy Hurley

Bob McLynn - Crush Music

Sean O'Keefe - Producer/Mixer

John Janick - Fueled By Ramen

Tim McIlrath - Rise Against

Mani Mostofi - Racetraitor

Chris Gutierrez - Arma Angelus

Mark Rose - Spitalfield

Sean Muttaqi - Uprising Records

Rory Felton - The Militia Group

Richard Reines - Drive-Thru Records

"To Feel No More Bitterness Forever" - From Hardcore to Softcore, 1998-2000

PETE WENTZ: When I got into hardcore, it was about discovering the world beyond yourself. There was a culture of trying to be a better person. That was part of what was so alluring about hardcore and punk for me. But for whatever reason, it shifted. Maybe this was just in Chicago, but it became less about the thought process behind it and more about moshing and breakdowns. There was a close-mindedness that felt very reactive.

TIM MCILRITH: I saw First Born many years ago, which was the first time I saw Pete and met him around then. This was '90s hardcore - p.c., vegan, activist kind of hardcore music. Pete was in many of those bands doing that kind of thing, and I was at many of those shows. The hardcore scene in Chicago was pretty small, so everyone kind of knew each other. I knew Andy Hurley as the drummer in Racetraitor. I was in a band called Baxter, so Pete always called me 'Baxter.' I was just 'Baxter' to a lot of those guys.

JOE TROHMAN: I was a young hardcore kid coming to the shows. The same way we all started doing bands. You're a shitty kid who goes to punk and hardcore shows, and you see the other bands playing, and you want to make friends with those guys because you want to play in bands too. Pete and I had a bit of a connection because we're from the same area. I was the youngest dude at most shows. I would see Extinction, Racetraitor, Burn It Down, and all the bands of that era.

WENTZ: My driver's license was suspended then, so Joe drove me everywhere. We listened to either Metalcore like Shai Hulud or pop-punk stuff like Screeching Weasel.

MCILRITH: I was in a band with Pete called Arma Angelus. I was like their fifth or sixth bass player. I wasn't doing anything musically when they hit me up to play bass, so I said, 'Of course.' I liked everyone in the band. We were rehearsing, playing a few shows here and there, with an ever-revolving cast of characters. We recorded a record together at the time. I even sing on that record, believe it or not, they gave me a vocal part. Around that same time, I began meeting with [bassist] Joe [Principe] about starting what would become Rise Against.

CHRIS GUTIERREZ: Wentz played me the Arma Angelus demo in the car. He said he wanted it to be a mix of Despair, Buried Alive, and Damnation A.D. He told me Tim was leaving to start another band - which ended up being Rise Against - and asked if I wanted to play bass.

TROHMAN: Pete asked me to fill in for a tour when I was 15. Pete had to call my dad to convince him to let me go. He did it, too. It was my first tour, in a shitty cargo van, with those dudes. They hazed the shit out of me. It was the best and worst experience. Best overall, worst at the time.

GUTIERREZ: Enthusiasm was starting to wane in Arma Angelus. Our drummer was really into cock-rock. It wasn't an ironic thing. He loved L.A. Guns, Whitesnake, and Hanoi Rocks. It drove Pete nuts because the scene was about Bleeding Through and Throwdown, not cock rock. He was frustrated that things weren't panning out for the band, and of course, there's a ceiling for how big a metalcore band can get, anyway.

MANI MOSTOFI: Pete had honed this tough guy persona, which I think was a defense mechanism. He had some volatile moments in his childhood. Underneath, he was a pretty sensitive and vulnerable person. After playing in every mosh-metal band in the Midwest and listening exclusively to Earth Crisis, Damnation A.D., Chokehold, and stuff like that for a long time, I think Pete wanted to do something fresh. He had gotten into Lifetime, Saves The Day, The Get Up Kids, and bands like that. Pete was at that moment where the softer side of him needed an outlet, and didn't want to hide behind mosh-machismo. I remember him telling me he wanted to start a band that more girls could listen to.

MCILRATH: Pete was talking about starting a pop-punk band. Bands like New Found Glory and Saves The Day were successful then. The whole pop-punk sound was accessible. Pete was just one of those guys destined for bigger things than screaming for mediocre hardcore bands in Chicago. He's a smart guy, a brilliant guy. All the endeavors he had taken on, even in the microcosm of the 1990s Chicago hardcore world, he put a lot of though into it. You could tell that if he were given a bigger receptacle to put that thought into, it could become something huge. He was always talented: lyrics, imagery, that whole thing. He was ahead of the curve. We were in this hardcore band from Chicago together, but we were both talking about endeavors beyond it.

TROHMAN: The drummer for Arma Angelus was moving. Pete and I talked about doing something different. It was just Pete and me at first. There was this thuggishness happening in the Chicago hardcore scene at that time that wasn't part of our vibe. It was cool, but it wasn't our thing.

MCILRITH: One day at Arma Angelus practice, Pete asked me, 'Are you going to do that thing with Joe?' I was like, 'Yeah, I think so.' He was like, 'You should do that, dude. Don't let this band hold you back. I'll be doing something else, too. We should be doing other things.' He was really ambitious. It was so amazing to me, too, because Pete was a guy who, at the time, was kind of learning how to play the bass. A guy who didn't really play an instrument will do down in history as one of the more brilliant musicians in Chicago. He had everything else in his corner. He knew how to do everything else. He needed to get some guys behind him because he had the rest covered. He had topics, themes, lyrics, artwork, this whole image he wanted to do, and he was uncompromising. He also tapped into something the rest of us were just waking up to: the advent of the internet. I mean, the internet wasn't new, but higher-speed internet was.

MOSTOFI: Joe was excited to be invited by Pete to do a band. Joe was the youngest in our crew by far, and Pete was the 'coolest' in a Fonzie sort of way. Joe deferred to Pete's judgement for years. But eventually, his whole life centered around bossy big-brother Pete. I think doing The Damned Things was for Joe what Fall Out Boy was for Pete, in a way. It was a way to find his own space within the group of friends. Unsurprisingly, Joe now plays a much more significant role in Fall Out Boy's music.

WENTZ: I wanted to do something easy and escapist. When Joe and I started the band, it was the worst band of all time. I feel like people said, 'Oh, yeah, you started Fall Out Boy to get big.' Dude, there was way more of a chance of every other band getting big in my head than Fall Out Boy. It was a side thing that was fun to do. Racetraitor and Extinction were big bands to me. We wanted to do pop-punk because it would be fun and hilarious. It was definitely on a lark. We weren't good. If it was an attempt at selling out, it was a very poor attempt.

MCILRITH: It was such a thing for people to move from hardcore bands to bands called 'emo' or pop-punk, as those bands were starting to get some radio play and signed to major labels. Everyone thought it was easy, but it's not as easy as that. Most guys we knew who tried it never did anything more successful than their hardcore bands. But Pete did it! And if anyone was going to, it was going to be him. He never did anything half-assed. He ended up playing bass in so many bands in Chicago, even though he could barely play the bass then, because simply putting him in your band meant you'd have a better show. He was just more into it. He knew more about dynamics, about getting a crowd to react to what you're doing than most people. Putting Pete in your band put you up a few notches.

"I'm Writing You A Chorus And Here Is Your Verse" - When Pete met Patrick, early 2001.

MARK ROSE: Patrick Stump played drums in this grindcore band called Grinding Process. They had put out a live split cassette tape.

PATRICK STUMP: My ambition always outweighed my ability or actual place in the world. I was a drummer and played in many bands and tried to finagle my way into better ones but never really managed. I was usually outgunned by the same two guys: this guy Rocky Senesce; I'm not sure if he's playing anymore, but he was amazing. And this other guy, De'Mar Hamilton, who is now in Plain White T's. We'd always go out for the same bands. I felt like I was pretty good, but then those guys just mopped the floor with me. I hadn't been playing music for a few months. I think my girlfriend dumped me. I was feeling down. I wasn't really into pop-punk or emo. I think at the time I was into Rhino Records box sets.

TROHMAN: I was at the Borders in Eden's Plaza in Wilmette, Illinois. My friend Arthur was asking me about Neurosis. Patrick just walked up and started talking to me.

STUMP: I was a bit arrogant and cocky, like a lot of young musicians. Joe was talking kind of loudly and I overheard him say something about Neurosis, and I think I came in kind of snotty, kind of correcting whatever they had said.

TROHMAN: We just started talking about music, and my buddy Arthur got shoved out of the conversation. I told him about the band we were starting. Pete was this local hardcore celebrity, which intrigued Patrick.

STUMP: I had similar conversations with any number of kids my age. This conversation didn't feel crazy special. That's one of the things that's real about [Joe and I meeting], and that's honest about it, that's it's not some 'love at first sight' thing where we started talking about music and 'Holy smokes, we're going to have the best band ever!' I had been in a lot of bands up until then. Hardcore was a couple of years away from me at that point. I was over it, but Pete was in real bands; that was interesting. Now I'm curious and I want to do this thing, or at least see what happens. Joe said they needed a drummer, guitar player, or singer, and I kind of bluffed and said I could do any one of those things for a pop-punk band. I'd had a lot of conversations about starting bands where I meet up with somebody and maybe try to figure out some songs and then we'd never see each other again. There were a lot of false starts and I assumed this would be just another one of those, but it would be fun for this one to be with the guy from Racetraitor and Extinction.

TROHMAN: He gave me the link to his MP3.com page. There were a few songs of him just playing acoustic and singing. He was awesome.

WENTZ: Joe told me we were going to this kid's house who would probably be our drummer but could also sing. He sent me a link to Patrick singing some acoustic thing, but the quality was so horrible it was hard to tell what it was. Patrick answered the door in some wild outfit. He looked like an emo kid but from the Endpoint era - dorky and cool. We went into the basement, and he was like, trying to set up his drums.

TROHMAN: Patrick has said many times that he intended to try out on drums. I was pushing for him to sing after hearing his demos. 'Hey! Sing for us!' I asked him to take out his acoustic guitar. He played songs from Saves The Day's Through Being Cool. I think he sang most of the record to us. We were thrilled. We had never been around someone who could sing like that.

WENTZ: I don't think Patrick thought we were cool at all. We were hanging out, and he started playing acoustic guitar. He started singing, and I realized he could sing any Saves The Day song. I was like, 'Wow, that's the way those bands sound! We should just have you sing.' It had to be serendipity because Patrick drumming and Joe singing is not the same band. I never thought about singing. It wasn't the type of thing I could sing. I knew I'd be playing bass. I didn't think it'd even go beyond a few practices. It didn't seem like the thing I was setting myself up to do for the next several years of my life in any way. I was going to college. It was just a fun getaway from the rest of life kind of thing to do.

STUMP: Andy was the first person we asked to play drums. Joe even brought him up in the Borders conversation. But Andy was too busy. He wasn't really interested, either, because we kind of sucked.

WENTZ: I wanted Hurley in the band, I was closest to him at the time, I had known him for a long time. I identified with him in the way that we were the younger dudes in our larger group. I tried to get him, but he was doing another band at the time, or multiple bands. He was Mani's go-to guy to play drums, always. I had asked him a few times. That should clue people into the fact that we weren't that good.

ANDY HURLEY: I knew Joe as 'Number One Fan.' We called him that because he was a huge fan of a band I was in, Kill The Slavemaster. When Fall Out Boy started, I was going to college full-time. I was in the band Project Rocket and I think The Kill Pill then, too.

MOSTOFI: After they got together the first or second time, Pete played me a recording and said, 'This is going to be big.' They had no songs, no name, no drummer. They could barely play their instruments. But Pete knew, and we believed him because we could see his drive and Patrick's potential. Patrick was prodigy. I imagine the first moment Pete heard him sing was probably like when I heard 15-year-old Andy Hurley play drums.

GUTIERREZ: One day at practice, Pete told me he had met some dudes with whom he was starting a pop-punk band. He said it would sound like a cross between New Found Glory and Lifetime. Then the more Fall Out Boy started to practice, the less active Arma Angelus became.

TROHMAN: We got hooked up with a friend named Ben Rose, who became our original drummer. We would practice in his parents' basement. We eventually wrote some pretty bad songs. I don't even have the demo. I have copies of Arma's demo, but I don't have that one.

MOSTOFI: We all knew that hardcore kids write better pop-punk songs than actual pop-punk kids. It had been proven. An experienced hardcore musician could bring a sense of aggression and urgency to the pop hooks in a way that a band like Yellowcard could never achieve. Pete and I had many conversations about this. He jokingly called it 'Softcore,' but that's precisely what it was. It's what he was going for. Take This To Your Grave sounds like Hot Topic, but it feels like CBGBs.

MCILRITH: Many hardcore guys who transitioned into pop-punk bands dumbed it down musically and lyrically. Fall Out Boy found a way to do it that wasn't dumbed down. They wrote music and lyrics that, if you listened closely, you could tell came from people who grew up into hardcore. Pete seemed to approach the song titles and lyrics the same way he attacked hardcore songs. You could see his signature on all of that.

STUMP: We all had very different ideas of what it should sound like. I signed up for Kid Dynamite, Strike Anywhere, or Dillinger Four. Pete was very into Lifetime and Saves The Day. I think both he and Joe were into New Found Glory and Blink-182. I still hadn't heard a lot of stuff. I was arrogant; I was a rock snob. I was over most pop-punk. But then I had this renaissance week where I was like, 'Man, you know what? I really do like The Descendents.' Like, the specific week I met Joe, it just happened to be that I was listening to a lot of Descendents. So, there was a part of me that was tickled by that idea. 'You know what? I'll try a pop-punk band. Why not?'

MOSTOFI: To be clear, they were trying to become a big band. But they did it by elevating radio-friendly pop punk, not debasing themselves for popularity. They were closely studying Drive-Thru Records bands like The Starting Line, who I couldn't stand. But they knew what they were doing. They extracted a few good elements from those bands and combined them with their other influences. Patrick never needed to be auto-tuned. He can sing. Pete never had to contrive this emotional depth. He always had it.

STUMP: The ideas for band names were obnoxious. At some point, Pete and I were arguing over it, and I think our first drummer, Ben Rose, who was in the hardcore band Strength In Numbers, suggested Fall Out Boy. Pete and I were like, 'Well, we don't hate that one. We'll keep it on the list.' But we never voted on a name.

"Fake It Like You Matter" - The Early Shows, 2001

The name Fall Out Boy made their shortlist, but their friends ultimately chose it for them. The line-up at the band's first show was Patrick Stump (sans guitar), Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, drummer Ben Rose, and guitarist John Flamandan in his only FOB appearance.

STUMP: We didn't have a name at our two or three shows. We were basically booked as 'Pete's new band' as he was the most known of any of us. Pete and I were the artsy two.

TROHMAN: The rest of us had no idea what we were doing onstage.

STUMP: We took ourselves very seriously and completely different ideas on what was 'cool.' Pete at the time was somewhere between maybe Chuck Palahniuk and Charles Bukowski, and kind of New Romantic and Manchester stuff, so he had that in mind. The band names he suggested were long and verbose, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. I was pretty much only into Tom Waits, so I wanted everything to be a reference to Tom Waits. The first show was at DePaul [University] in some cafeteria. The room looked a lot nicer than punk rock shows are supposed to look, like a room where you couldn't jump off the walls. We played with a band called Stillwell. I want to say one of the other bands played Black Sabbath's Black Sabbath in its entirety. We were out of place. We were tossing a few different names around. The singer for Stillwell was in earshot of the conversation so I was like 'Hey, settle this for us,' and told him whatever name it was, which I can't remember. 'What do you think of this name?' He goes, 'It sucks.' And the way he said it, there was this element to it, like, 'You guys probably suck, too, so whatever.' That was our first show. We played first and only had three songs. That was John's only show with us, and I never saw him again. I was just singing without a guitar, and I had never just sung before; that was horrifying. We blazed through those songs.

ROSE: Patrick had this shoulder-length hair. Watching these guys who were known for heavier stuff play pop-punk was strange. Pete was hopping around with the X's on his hands. Spitalfield was similar; we were kids playing another style of music who heard Texas Is The Reason and Get Up Kids and said, 'We have to start a band like this.'

MOSTOFI: The first show was a lot of fun. The musical side wasn't there, but Pete and Patrick's humor and charisma were front and center.

TROHMAN: I remember having a conversation with Mani about stage presence. He was telling me how important it was. Coalesce and The Dillinger Escape Plan would throw mic stands and cabinets. We loved that visual excitement and appeal. Years later, Patrick sang a Fall Out Boy song with Taylor Swift at Giants Stadium. It was such a great show to watch that I was reminded of how wise Mani was to give me that advice back then. Mani was like a mentor for me, honestly. He would always guide me through stuff.

MOSTOFI: Those guys grew up in Chicago, either playing in or seeing Extinction, Racetraitor, Los Crudos, and other bands that liked to talk and talk between songs. Fall Out Boy did that, and it was amazing. Patrick was awkward in a knowing and hilarious way. He'd say something odd, and then Pete would zing him. Or Pete would try to say something too cool, and Patrick would remind him they were nerds. These are very personal memories for me. Millions of people have seen the well-oiled machine, but so few of us saw those guys when they were so carefree.

TROHMAN: We had this goofy, bad first show, but all I can tell you was that I was determined to make this band work, no matter what.

STUMP: I kind of assumed that was the end of that. 'Whatever, on with our lives.' But Joe was very determined. He was going to pick us up for practice and we were going to keep playing shows. He was going to make the band happen whether the rest of us wanted to or not. That's how we got past show number one. John left the band because we only had three songs and he wasn't very interested. In the interim, I filled in on guitar. I didn't consider myself a guitar player. Our second show was a college show in Southern Illinois or something.

MCILRITH: That show was with my other band, The Killing Tree.

STUMP: We showed up late and played before The Killing Tree. There was no one there besides the bands and our friends. I think we had voted on some names. Pete said 'Hey, we're whatever!'; probably something very long. And someone yells out, 'Fuck that, no, you're Fall Out Boy!' Then when The Killing Tree was playing, Tim said, 'I want to thank Fall Out Boy.' Everyone looked up to Tim, so when he forced the name on us, it was fine. I was a diehard Simpsons fan, without question. I go pretty deep on The Simpsons. Joe and I would just rattle off Simpsons quotes. I used to do a lot of Simpsons impressions. Ben was very into Simpsons; he had a whole closet full of Simpsons action figures.

"If Only You Knew I Was Terrified" - The Early Recordings, 2002-2003

Wentz's relationships in the hardcore scene led to Fall Out Boy's first official releases. A convoluted and rarely properly explained chain of events resulted in the Fall Out Boy/Project Rocket split EP and Fall Out Boy's Evening Out with Your Girlfriend. Both were issued by California's Uprising Records, whose discography included Racetraitor's first album and the debut EP by Burn It Down. The band traveled to Wisconsin to record their first proper demo with engineer Jared Logan, drummer for Uprising's 7 Angels 7 Plagues.

TROHMAN: This isn't to be confused with the demo we did in Ben's basement, which was like a tape demo. This was our first real demo.

STUMP: Between booking the demo and recording it, we lost Ben Rose. He was the greatest guy, but it wasn't working out musically. Pete and Joe decided I should play drums on the demo. But Jared is a sick drummer, so he just did it.

TROHMAN: We had gotten this great singer but went through a series of drummers that didn't work out. I had to be the one who kicked Ben out. Not long after, our friend Brett Bunting played with us. I don't think he really wanted to do it, which was a bummer.

STUMP: I showed up to record that demo, feeling pulled into it. I liked hanging out with the guys, but I was a rock snob who didn't really want to be making that type of music. The first few songs were really rough. We were sloppy. We barely practiced. Pete was in Arma Angelus. Joe was the guy determined to make it happen. We couldn't keep a drummer or guitar player, and I could barely play guitar. I didn't really want to be in Fall Out Boy. We had these crappy songs that kind of happened; it didn't feel like anything. Joe did the guitars. I go in to do the vocals, I put on the headphones, and it starts playing and was kind of not bad! It was pretty good, actually. I was shocked. That was the first time I was like, 'Maybe I am supposed to be in this band.' I enjoyed hearing it back.

SEAN MUTTAQI: Wentz and I were pretty tight. He sent me some demos, and while I didn't know it would get as big as it did, I knew it was special. Wentz had a clear vision. Of all the guys from that scene, he was the most singularly focused on taking things to the next level. He was ahead of the game with promotion and the early days of social media.

STUMP: Arma Angelus had been on Eulogy. We talked to them a bit and spoke to Uprising because they had put out Racetraitor. At some point, the demo got to Sean, and he decided to make it half of a split with Andy's band, Project Rocket. We were pretty happy with that.

HURLEY: It was kind of competitive for me at the time. Project Rocket and Fall Out Boy were both doing pop-punk/pop-rock, I met Patrick through the band. I didn't really know him before Fall Out Boy.

TROHMAN: We got this drummer, Mike Pareskuwicz, who had been in a hardcore band from Central Illinois called Subsist.

STUMP: Uprising wanted us to make an album. We thought that was cool, but we only had those three songs that were on the split. We were still figuring ourselves out. One of the times we were recording with Jared in the studio, for the split or the album, this guy T.J. Kunasch was there. He was like, 'Hey, do you guys need a guitarist?' And he joined.

MUTTAQI: I borrowed some money to get them back in the studio. The songwriting was cool on that record, but it was all rushed. The urgency to get something out led to the recording being subpar. Their new drummer looked the part but couldn't really play. They had already tracked the drums before they realized it didn't sound so hot.

STUMP: The recording experience was not fun. We had two days to do an entire album. Mike was an awesome dude, but he lived crazy far away, in Kanakee, Illinois, so the drive to Milwaukee wasn't easy for him. He had to work or something the next day. So, he did everything in one take and left. He played alone, without a click, so it was a ness to figure out. We had to guess where the guitar was supposed to go. None of us liked the songs because we had slapped them together. We thought it all sucked. But I thought, 'Well, at least it'll be cool to have something out.' Then a lot of time went by. Smaller labels were at the mercy of money, and it was crazy expensive to put out a record back then.

MUTTAQI: Our record was being rushed out to help generate some interest, but that interest was building before we could even get the record out. We were beholden to finances while changing distribution partners and dealing with other delays. The buck stops with me, yes, but I didn't have that much control over the scheduling.

WENTZ: It's not what I would consider the first Fall Out Boy record. Hurley isn't on it and he's an integral part of the Fall Out Boy sound. But it is part of the history, the legacy. NASA didn't go right to the moon. They did test flights in the desert. Those are our test flights in the desert. It's not something I'm ashamed of or have weird feelings about.

STUMP: It's kind of embarrassing to me. Evening Out... isn't representative of the band we became. I liked Sean a lot, so it's nothing against him. If anybody wants to check out the band in that era, I think the split EP is a lot cooler. Plus, Andy is on that one.

TROHMAN: T.J. was the guy who showed up to the show without a guitar. He was the guy that could never get it right, but he was in the band for a while because we wanted a second guitar player. He's a nice dude but wasn't great to be in a band with back then. One day he drove unprompted from Racine to Chicago to pick up some gear. I don't know how he got into my parents' house, but the next thing I knew, he was in my bedroom. I didn't like being woken up and kicked him out of the band from bed.

STUMP: Our friend Brian Bennance asked us to do a split 7" with 504 Plan, which was a big band to us. Brian offered to pay for us to record with Sean O'Keefe, which was also a big deal. Mike couldn't get the time off work to record with us. We asked Andy to play on the songs. He agreed to do it, but only if he could make it in time after recording an entire EP with his band, The Kill Pill, in Chicago, on the same day.

MOSTOFI: Andy and I started The Kill Pill shortly after Racetraitor split up, not long after Fall Out Boy had formed. We played a bunch of local shows together. The minute Andy finished tracking drums for our EP in Chicago, he raced to the other studio in Madison.

STUMP: I'm getting ready to record the drums myself, getting levels and checking the drums, pretty much ready to go. And then in walks Andy Hurley. I was a little bummed because I really wanted to play drums that day. But then Andy goes through it all in like two takes and fucking nailed the entire thing. He just knocked it out of the park. All of us were like, 'That's crazy!'

WENTZ: When Andy came in, It just felt different. It was one of those 'a-ha' moments.

STUMP: Sean leaned over to us and said, 'You need to get this guy in the band.'

SEAN O'KEEFE: We had a blast. We pumped It out. We did it fast and to analog tape. People believe it was very Pro Tools oriented, but it really was done to 24-track tape. Patrick sang his ass off.

STUMP: The songs we had were 'Dead On Arrival,' 'Saturday,' and 'Homesick at Space Camp. There are quite a few songs that ended up on Take This To You Grave where I wrote most of the lyrics but Pete titled them.

WENTZ: 'Space Camp' was a reference to the 1986 movie, SpaceCamp, and the idea of space camp. Space camp wasn't something anyone in my area went to. Maybe they did, but it was never an option for me. It seems like the little kid version of meeting Jay-Z. The idea was also: what if you, like Joaquin Phoenix in the movie, took off to outer space and wanted to get home? 'I made it to space and now I'm just homesick and want to hang out with my friends.' In the greater sense, it's about having it all, but it's still not enough. There's a pop culture reference in 'Saturday' that a lot of people miss. 'Pete and I attack the lost Astoria' was a reference to The Goonies, which was filmed in Astoria, Oregon.

HURLEY: I remember hearing those recordings, especially 'Dead on Arrival,' and Patrick's voice and how well written those songs were, especially relative to anything else I had done - I had a feeling that this could do something.

WENTZ: It seemed like it would stall out if we didn't get a solid drummer in the band soon. That was the link that we couldn't nail down. Patrick was always a big musical presence. He thinks and writes rhythmi-cally, and we couldn't get a drummer to do what he wanted or speak his language. Hurley was the first one that could. It's like hearing two drummers talk together when they really get it. It sounds like a foreign language because it's not something I'm keyed into. Patrick needed someone on a similar musical plane. I wasn't there. Joe was younger and was probably headed there.

HURLEY: When Patrick was doing harmonies, it was like Queen. He's such a brilliant dude. I was always in bands that did a record and then broke up. I felt like this was a band that could tour a lot like the hardcore bands we loved, even if we had to have day jobs, too.

"(Four) Tired Boys And A Broken Down Van" - The Early Tours, 2002-2003

STUMP: We booked a tour with Spitalfield, another Chicago band, who had records out, so they were a big deal to us. We replaced T.J. with a guy named Brandon Hamm. He was never officially in the band. He quit when we were practicing 'Saturday.' He goes, 'I don't like that. I don't want to do this anymore.' Pete talked with guitarist Chris Envy from Showoff, who had just broken up. Chris said, 'Yeah, I'll play in your band.' He came to two practices, then quit like two days before the tour. It was only a two-week tour, but Mike couldn't get the time off work from Best Buy, or maybe it was Blockbuster. We had to lose Mike, which was the hardest member change for me. It was unpleasant.

TROHMAN: We had been trying to get Andy to join the band for a while. Even back at that first Borders conversation, we talked about him, but he was too busy at the time.

STUMP: I borrowed one of Joe's guitars and jumped in the fire. We were in this legendarily shitty used van Pete had gotten. It belonged to some flower shop, so it had this ominously worn-out flower decal outside and no windows [except in the front]. Crappy brakes, no A/C, missing the rearview mirror, no seats in the back, only the driver's seat. About 10 minutes into the tour, we hit something. A tire exploded and slingshot into the passenger side mirror, sending glass flying into the van. We pulled over into some weird animal petting zoo. I remember thinking, 'This is a bad omen for this tour.' Spitalfield was awesome, and we became tight with them. Drew Brown, who was later in Weekend Nachos, was out with them, too. But most of the shows were canceled.

WENTZ: We'd end up in a town, and our show was canceled, or we'd have three days off. 'Let's just get on whatever show we can. Whatever, you can pay us in pizza.'

STUMP: We played in a pizza place. We basically blocked the line of people trying to order pizza, maybe a foot away from the shitty tables. Nobody is trying to watch a band. They're just there to eat pizza. And that was perhaps the biggest show we played on that tour. One of the best moments on the Spitalfied tour was in Lincoln, Nebraska. The local opener wasn't even there - they were at the bar across the street and showed up later with two people. Fall Out Boy played for Spitalfield, and Spitalfield played for Fall Out Boy. Even the sound guy had left. It was basically an empty room. It was miserable.

HURLEY: Even though we played a ton of shows in front of just the other bands, it was awesome. I've known Pete forever and always loved being in bands with him. After that tour, it was pretty much agreed that I would be in the band. I wanted to be in the band.

WENTZ: We would play literally any show in those days for free. We played Chain Reaction in Orange County with a bunch of metalcore bands. I want to say Underoath was one of them. I remember a lot of black shirts and crossed arms at those kinds of shows. STUMP: One thing that gets lost in the annals of history is Fall Out Boy, the discarded hardcore band. We played so many hardcore shows! The audiences were cool, but they were just like, 'This is OK, but we'd really rather be moshing right now.' Which was better than many of the receptions we got from pop-punk kids.

MOSTOFI: Pete made sure there was little division between the band and the audience. In hardcore, kids are encouraged to grab the mic. Pete was very conscious about making the crowd feel like friends. I saw them in Austin, Texas, in front of maybe ten kids. But it was very clear all ten of those kids felt like Pete's best friends. And they were, in a way.

MCILRITH: People started to get into social networking. That kind of thing was all new to us, and they were way ahead. They networked with their fans before any of us.

MOSTOFI: Pete shared a lot about his life online and was intimate as hell. It was a new type of scene. Pete extended the band's community as far as fiber optics let him.

ROSE: Pete was extremely driven. Looking back, I wish I had that killer instinct. During that tour; we played a show in Colorado. On the day of the show, we went to Kinko's to make flyers to hand out to college kids. Pete put ‘members of Saves The Day and Screeching Weasel’ on the flyer. He was just like, 'This will get people in.'

WENTZ: We booked a lot of our early shows through hardcore connections, and to some extent, that carries through to what Fall Out Boy shows are like today. If you come to see us play live, we're basically Slayer compared to everyone else when we play these pop radio shows. Some of that carries back to what you must do to avoid being heckled at hardcore shows. You may not like our music, but you will leave here respecting us. Not everyone is going to love you. Not everyone is going to give a shit. But you need to earn a crowd's respect. That was an important way for us to learn that.

MOSTOFI: All those dudes, except Andy, lived in this great apartment with our friend Brett Bunting, who was almost their drummer at one point. The proximity helped them gel.

STUMP: There were a lot of renegade last-minute shows where we'd just call and get added. We somehow ended up on a show with Head Automatica that way.

MCILRITH: At some point early on, they opened for Rise Against in a church basement in Downers Grove. We were doing well then; headlining that place was a big deal. Then Pete's band was coming up right behind us, and you could tell there was a lot of chatter about Fall Out Boy. I remember getting to the show, and there were many people there, many of whom I had never seen in the scene before. A lot of unfamiliar faces. A lot of people that wouldn't have normally found their way to the seedy Fireside Bowl in Chicago. These were young kids, and I was 21 then, so when I say young, I mean really young. Clearly, Fall Out Boy had tapped into something the rest of us had not. People were super excited to see them play and freaked out; there was a lot of enthusiasm at that show. After they finished, their fans bailed. They were dedicated. They wanted to see Fall Out Boy. They didn't necessarily want to see Rise Against play. That was my first clue that, 'Whoa, what Pete told me that day at Arma Angelus rehearsal is coming true. He was right.' Whatever he was doing was working.

"My Insides Are Copper, And I'd Like To Make Them Gold" - The Record Labels Come Calling, 2002

STUMP: The split EP was going to be a three-way split with 504 Plan, August Premier, and us at one point. But then the record just never happened. Brian backed out of putting it out. We asked him if we could do something else with the three songs and he didn't really seem to care. So, we started shopping the three songs as a demo. Pete ended up framing the rejection letters we got from a lot of pop-punk labels. But some were interested.

HURLEY: We wanted to be on Drive-Thru Records so bad. That was the label.

RICHARD REINES: After we started talking to them, I found the demo they had sent us in the office. I played it for my sister. We decided everything together. She liked them but wasn't as crazy about them as I was. We arranged with Pete to see them practice. We had started a new label called Rushmore. Fall Out Boy wasn't the best live band. We weren't thrilled [by the showcase]. But the songs were great. We both had to love a band to sign them, so my sister said, 'If you love them so much, let's sign them to Rushmore, not Drive Thru.'

HURLEY: We did a showcase for Richard and Stephanie Reines. They were just kind of like, 'Yeah, we have this side label thing. We'd be interested in having you on that.' I remember them saying they passed on Saves The Day and wished they would have put out Through Being Cool. But then they [basically] passed on us by offering to put us on Rushmore. We realized we could settle for that, but we knew it wasn't the right thing.

RORY FELTON: Kevin Knight had a website, TheScout, which always featured great new bands. I believe he shared the demo with us. I flew out to Chicago. Joe and Patrick picked me up at the airport. I saw them play at a VFW hall, Patrick drank an entire bottle of hot sauce on a dare at dinner, and then we all went to see the movie The Ring. I slept on the couch in their apartment, the one featured on the cover of Take This To Your Grave. Chad [Pearson], my partner, also flew out to meet with the band.

STUMP: It was a weird time to be a band because it was feast or famine. At first, no one wanted us. Then as soon as one label said, 'Maybe we'll give 'em a shot,' suddenly there's a frenzy of phone calls from record labels. We were getting our shirts printed by Victory Records. One day, we went to pick up shirts, and someone came downstairs and said, 'Um, guys? [Owner] Tony [Brummel] wants to see you.' We were like, 'Did we forget to pay an invoice?' He made us an offer on the spot. We said, 'That's awesome, but we need to think about it.' It was one of those 'now or never' kinds of things. I think we had even left the van running. It was that kind of sudden; we were overwhelmed by it.

HURLEY: They told me Tony said something like, 'You can be with the Nike of the record industry or the Keds of the record industry.'

STUMP: We'd get random calls at the apartment. 'Hey, I'm a manager with so-and-so.' I talked to some boy band manager who said, 'We think you'll be a good fit.'

TROHMAN: The idea of a manager was a ‘big-time' thing. I answered a call one day, and this guy is like, 'I'm the manager for the Butthole Surfers, and I'd really like to work with you guys.' I just said, Yeah, I really like the Butthole Surfers, but I'll have to call you back.' And I do love that band. But I just knew that wasn't the right thing.

STUMP: Not all the archetypes you always read about are true. The label guys aren't all out to get you. Some are total douchebags. But then there are a lot who are sweet and genuine. It's the same thing with managers. I really liked the Militia Group. They told us it was poor form to talk to us without a manager. They recommended Bob McLynn.

FELTON: We knew the guys at Crush from working with Acceptance and The Beautiful Mistake. We thought they'd be great for Fall Out Boy, so we sent the music to their team.

STUMP: They said Crush was their favorite management company and gave us their number. Crush's biggest band at the time was American Hi-Fi. Jonathan Daniels, the guy who started the company, sent a manager to see us. The guy was like, "This band sucks!' But Jonathan liked us and thought someone should do something with us. Bob was his youngest rookie manager. He had never managed anyone, and we had never been managed.

BOB MCLYNN: Someone else from my office who isn't with us anymore had seen them, but I hadn't seen them yet. At the time, we'd tried to manage Brand New; they went elsewhere, and I was bummed. Then we got the Fall Out Boy demo, and I was like, Wow. This sounds even better. This guy can really sing, and these songs are great.' I remember going at it hard after that whole thing. Fall Out Boy was my consolation prize. I don't know if they were talking to other managers or not, but Pete and I clicked.

TROHMAN: In addition to being really creative, Pete is really business savvy. We all have a bullshit detector these days, but Pete already had one back then. We met Bob, and we felt like this dude wouldn't fuck us over.

STUMP: We were the misfit toy that nobody else wanted. Bob really believed in us when nobody else did and when nobody believed in him. What's funny is that all the other managers at Crush were gone within a year. It was just Bob and Jonathan, and now they're partners. Bob was the weird New York Hardcore guy who scared me at the time.

TROHMAN: We felt safe with him. He's a big, hulking dude.

MCLYNN: We tried to make a deal with The Militia Group, but they wouldn't back off on a few things in the agreement. I told them those were deal breakers, opening the door to everyone else. I knew this band needed a shot to do bigger and better things.

TROHMAN: He told us not to sign with the label that recommended him to us. We thought there was something very honest about that.

MCLYNN: They paid all their dues. Those guys worked harder than any band I'd ever seen, and I was all about it. I had been in bands before and had just gotten out. I was getting out of the van just as these guys got into one. They busted their asses.

STUMP: A few labels basically said the same thing: they wanted to hear more. They weren't convinced we could write another song as good as 'Dead On Arrival.' I took that as a challenge. We returned to Sean a few months after those initial three songs, this time at Gravity Studios in Chicago. We recorded ‘Grenade Jumper' and 'Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy' in a night or two. 'Where is Your Boy' was my, 'Fine, you don't think I can write a fucking song? Here's your hit song, jerks!' But I must have pushed Pete pretty hard [arguing about the songs]. One night, as he and I drove with Joe, Pete said, 'Guys, I don't think I want to do this band anymore.' We talked about it for the rest of the ride home. I didn't want to be in the band in the first place! I was like, 'No! That's not fair! Don't leave me with this band! Don't make me kind of like this band, and then leave it! That's bullshit!' Pete didn't stay at the apartment that night. I called him at his parent's house. I told him I wasn't going to do the band without him. He was like, 'Don't break up your band over it.' I said, 'It's not my band. It's a band that you, Joe, and I started.' He was like, 'OK, I'll stick around.' And he came back with a vengeance.

WENTZ: It was maybe the first time we realized we could do these songs titles that didn't have much do with the song from the outside. Grand Theft Auto was such a big pop culture franchise. If you said the phrase back then, everyone recognized it. The play on words was about someone stealing your time in the fall. It was the earliest experimentation with that so it was a little simplistic compared to the stuff we did later. At the time, we'd tell someone the song title, and they'd say, 'You mean "Auto"'?

JOHN JANICK: I saw their name on fliers and thought it was strange. But I remembered it. Then I saw them on a flyer with one of our bands from Chicago, August Premier. I called them and asked about this band whose name I had seen on a few flyers now. They told me they were good and I should check it out. I heard an early version of a song online and instantly fell in love with it. Drive-Thru, The Militia Group, and a few majors tried to sign them. I was the odd man out. But I knew I wanted them right away.

HURLEY: Fueled By Ramen was co-owned by Vinnie [Fiorello] from Less Than Jake. It wasn't necessarily a band I grew up loving, but I had so much respect for them and what they had done and were doing.

JANICK: I randomly cold-called them at the apartment and spoke to Patrick. He told me I had to talk to Pete. I spoke to Pete later that day. We ended up talking on the phone for an hour. It was crazy. I never flew out there. I just got to know them over the phone.

MCLYNN: There were majors [interested], but I didn't want the band on a major right away. I knew they wouldn't understand the band. Rob Stevenson from Island Records knew all the indie labels were trying to sign Fall Out Boy. We did this first-ever incubator sort of deal. I also didn't want to stay on an indie forever; I felt we needed to develop and have a chance to do bigger and better things, but these indies didn't necessarily have radio staff. It was sort of the perfect scenario. Island gave us money to go on Fueled By Ramen, with whom we did a one-off. No one else would offer a one-off on an indie.

STUMP: They were the smallest of the labels involved, with the least 'gloss.' I said, 'I don't know about this, Pete.' Pete was the one who thought it was the smartest move. He pointed out that we could be a big fish in a small pond. So, we rolled the dice.

HURLEY: It was a one-record deal with Fueled By Ramen. We didn't necessarily get signed to Island, but they had the 'right of first refusal' [for the album following Take This To Your Grave]. It was an awesome deal. It was kind of unheard of, maybe, but there was a bunch of money coming from Island that we didn't have to recoup for promo type of things.

JANICK: The company was so focused on making sure we broke Fall Out Boy; any other label probably wouldn't have had that dedication. Pete and I talked for at least an hour every day. Pete and I became so close, so much so that we started Decaydance. It was his thing, but we ended up signing Panic! At The Disco, Gym Class Heroes, Cobra Starship.

GUTIERREZ: Who could predict Pete would A&R all those bands? There's no Panic! At The Disco or Gym Class Heroes without Wentz. He made them into celebrities.

"Turn This Up And I'll Tune You Out" - The Making of Take This To You Grave, 2003

The versions of "Dead on Arrival," "Saturday," and "Homesick at Space Camp" from the first sessions with Andy on drums are what appear on the album. "Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy" and "Grenade Jumper" are the demo versions recorded later in Chicago. O'Keefe recorded the music for the rest of the songs at Smart Studios once again. They knocked out the remaining songs in just nine days. Sean and Patrick snuck into Gravity Studios in the middle of the night to track vocals in the dead of winter. Patrick sang those seven songs from two to five in the morning in those sessions.

STUMP: John Janick basically said, ‘I'll buy those five songs and we'll make them part of the album, and here's some money to go record seven more.'

MCLYNN: It was a true indie deal with Fueled by Ramen. I think we got between $15,000 and $18,000 all-in to make the album. The band slept on the studio floor some nights.

STUMP: From a recording standpoint, it was amazing. It was very pro, we had Sean, all this gear, the fun studio accoutrements were there. It was competitive with anything we did afterward. But meanwhile, we're still four broke idiots.

WENTZ: We fibbed to our parents about what we were doing. I was supposed to be in school. I didn't have access to money or a credit card. I don't think any of us did.

STUMP: I don't think we slept anywhere we could shower, which was horrifying. There was a girl that Andy's girlfriend at the time went to school with who let us sleep on her floor, but we'd be there for maybe four hours at a time. It was crazy.

HURLEY: Once, Patrick thought it would be a good idea to spray this citrus bathroom spray under his arms like deodorant. It just destroyed him because it's not made for that. But it was all an awesome adventure.

WENTZ: We were so green we didn't really know how studios worked. Every day there was soda for the band. We asked, 'Could you take that soda money and buy us peanut butter, jelly, and bread?' which they did. I hear that stuff in some ways when I listen to that album.

HURLEY: Sean pushed us. He was such a perfectionist, which was awesome. I felt like, ‘This is what a real professional band does.' It was our first real studio experience.

WENTZ: Seeing the Nirvana Nevermind plaque on the wall was mind-blowing. They showed us the mic that had been used on that album.

HURLEY: The mic that Kurt Cobain used, that was pretty awesome, crazy, legendary, and cool. But we didn't get to use it.

WENTZ: They said only Shirley Manson] from Garbage could use it.

O'KEEFE: Those dudes were all straight edge at the time. It came up in conversation that I had smoked weed once a few months before. That started this joke that I was this huge stoner, which obviously I wasn't. They'd call me 'Scoobie Snacks O'Keefe' and all these things. When they turned in the art for the record, they thanked me with like ten different stoner nicknames - 'Dimebag O'Keefe' and stuff like that. The record company made Pete take like seven of them out because they said it was excessively ridiculous.

WENTZ: Sean was very helpful. He worked within the budget and took us more seriously than anyone else other than Patrick. There were no cameras around. There was no documentation. There was nothing to indicate this would be some ‘legendary' session. There are 12 songs on the album because those were all the songs we had. There was no pomp or circumstance or anything to suggest it would be an 'important’ record.

STUMP: Pete and I were starting to carve out our niches. When Pete [re-committed himself to the band], it felt like he had a list of things in his head he wanted to do right. Lyrics were on that list. He wasn't playing around anymore. I wrote the majority of the lyrics up to that point - ‘Saturday,' 'Dead on Arrival,' ‘Where's Your Boy?,’ ‘Grenade Jumper,' and ‘Homesick at Space Camp.' I was an artsy-fartsy dude who didn't want to be in a pop-punk band, so I was going really easy on the lyrics. I wasn't taking them seriously. When I look back on it, I did write some alright stuff. But I wasn't trying. Pete doesn't fuck around like that, and he does not take that kindly. When we returned to the studio, he started picking apart every word, every syllable. He started giving me [notes]. I got so exasperated at one point I was like, ‘You just write the fucking lyrics, dude. Just give me your lyrics, and I'll write around them.' Kind of angrily. So, he did. We hadn't quite figured out how to do it, though. I would write a song, scrap my lyrics, and try to fit his into where mine had been. It was exhausting. It was a rough process. It made both of us unhappy.

MCLYNN: I came from the post-hardcore scene in New York and wasn't a big fan of the pop-punk stuff happening. What struck me with these guys was the phenomenal lyrics and Patrick's insane voice. Many guys in these kinds of bands can sing alright, but Patrick was like a real singer. This guy had soul. He'd take these great lyrics Pete wrote and combine it with that soul, and that's what made their unique sound. They both put their hearts on their sleeves when they wrote together.

STUMP: We had a massive fight over 'Chicago is So Two Years Ago.' I didn't even want to record that song. I was being precious with things that were mine. Part of me thought the band wouldn't work out, and I'd go to college and do some music alone. I had a skeletal version of 'Chicago...'. I was playing it to myself in the lobby of the studio. I didn't know anyone was listening. Sean was walking by and wanted to [introduce it to the others]. I kind of lost my song. I was very precious about it. Pete didn't like some of the lyrics, so we fought. We argued over each word, one at a time. 'Tell That Mick...' was also a pretty big fight. Pete ended up throwing out all my words on that one. That was the first song where he wrote the entire set of lyrics. My only change was light that smoke' instead of ‘cigarette' because I didn't have enough syllables to say 'cigarette.' Everything else was verbatim what he handed to me. I realized I must really want to be in this band at this point if I'm willing to put up with this much fuss. The sound was always more important to me - the rhythm of the words, alliteration, syncopation - was all very exciting. Pete didn't care about any of that. He was all meaning. He didn't care how good the words sounded if they weren't amazing when you read them. Man, did we fight about that. We fought for nine days straight while not sleeping and smelling like shit. It was one long argument, but I think some of the best moments resulted from that.

WENTZ: In 'Calm Before the Storm,' Patrick wrote the line, 'There's a song on the radio that says, 'Let's Get This Party Started' which is a direct reference to Pink's 2001 song 'Get the Party Started.' 'Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today' is a line from the movie Rushmore. I thought we'd catch a little more flack for that, but even when we played it in Ireland, there was none of that. It's embraced, more like a shoutout.

STUMP: Pete and I met up on a lot of the same pop culture. He was more into '80s stuff than I was. One of the first things we talked about were Wes Anderson movies.

WENTZ: Another thing driving that song title was the knowledge that our fanbase wouldn't necessarily be familiar with Wes Anderson. It could be something that not only inspired us but something fans could also go check out. People don't ask us about that song so much now, but in that era, we'd answer and tell them to go watch Rushmore. You gotta see this movie. This line is a hilarious part of it.' Hopefully some people did. I encountered Jason Schwartzman at a party once. We didn't get to talk about the movie, but he was the sweetest human, and I was just geeking out. He told me he was writing a film with Wes Anderson about a train trip in India. I wanted to know about the writing process. He was like, 'Well, he's in New York City, I'm in LA. It's crazy because I'm on the phone all the time and my ear gets really hot.' That's the anecdote I got, and I loved it.

O'KEEFE: They're totally different people who approach making music from entirely different angles. It's cool to see them work. Pete would want a certain lyric. Patrick was focused on the phrasing. Pete would say the words were stupid and hand Patrick a revision, and Patrick would say I can't sing those the way I need to sing this. They would go through ten revisions for one song. I thought I would lose my mind with both of them, but then they would find it, and it would be fantastic. When they work together, it lights up. It takes on a life of its own. It's not always happy. There's a lot of push and pull, and each is trying to get their thing. With Take This To Your Grave, we never let anything go until all three of us were happy. Those guys were made to do this together.

WENTZ: A lot of the little things weren't a big deal, but those were things that [felt like] major decisions. I didn't want 'Where Is Your Boy' on Take This To Your Grave.

JANICK: I freaked out. I called Bob and said, 'We must put this song on the album! It's one of the biggest songs.' He agreed. We called Pete and talked about it; he was cool about it and heard us out.

WENTZ: I thought many things were humongous, and they just weren't. They didn't matter one way or another.

"Our Lawyer Made Us Change The (Album Cover)" - That Photo On Take This To Your Grave, 2003

STUMP: The band was rooted in nostalgia from early on. The '80s references were very much Pete's aesthetic. He had an idea for the cover. It ended up being his girlfriend at the time, face down on the bed, exhausted, in his bedroom. That was his bedroom in our apartment. His room was full of toys, '80s cereals. If we ended up with the Abbey Road cover of pop-punk, that original one was Sgt. Pepper's. But we couldn't legally clear any of the stuff in the photo. Darth Vader, Count Chocula…

WENTZ: There's a bunch of junk in there: a Morrissey poster, I think a Cher poster, Edward Scissorhands. We submitted it to Fueled by Ramen, and they were like, 'We can't clear any of this stuff.’ The original album cover did eventually come out on the vinyl version.

STUMP: The photo that ended up being the cover was simply a promo photo for that album cycle. We had to scramble. I was pushing the Blue Note jazz records feel. That's why the CD looks a bit like vinyl and why our names are listed on the front. I wanted a live photo on the cover. Pete liked the Blue Note idea but didn't like the live photo idea. I also made the fateful decision to have my name listed as 'Stump' rather than Stumph.

WENTZ: What we used was initially supposed to be the back cover. I remember someone in the band being pissed about it forever. Not everyone was into having our names on the cover. It was a strange thing to do at the time. But had the original cover been used, it wouldn't have been as iconic as what we ended up with. It wouldn't have been a conversation piece. That stupid futon in our house was busted in the middle. We're sitting close to each other because the futon was broken. The exposed brick wall was because it was the worst apartment ever. It makes me wonder: How many of these are accidental moments? At the time, there was nothing iconic about it. If we had a bigger budget, we probably would have ended up with a goofier cover that no one would have cared about.

STUMP: One of the things I liked about the cover was that it went along with something Pete had always said. I'm sure people will find this ironic, but Pete had always wanted to create a culture with the band where it was about all four guys and not just one guy. He had the foresight to even think about things like that. I didn't think anyone would give a fuck about our band! At the time, it was The Pete Wentz Band to most people. With that album cover, he was trying to reject that and [demonstrate] that all four of us mattered. A lot of people still don't get that, but whatever. I liked that element of the cover. It felt like a team. It felt like Voltron. It wasn't what I like to call 'the flying V photo' where the singer is squarely in the center, the most important, and everyone else is nearest the camera in order of 'importance.' The drummer would be in the very back. Maybe the DJ guy who scratches records was behind the drummer.

"You Need Him. I Could Be Him. Where Is Your Boy Tonight?" - The Dynamics of Punk Pop's Fab 4, 2003

Patrick seemed like something of the anti-frontman, never hogging the spotlight and often shrinking underneath his baseball hat. Wentz was more talkative, more out front on stage and in interviews, in a way that felt unprecedented for a bass player who wasn't also singing. In some ways, Fall Out Boy operated as a two-headed dictatorship. Wentz and Stump are in the car's front seat while Joe and Andy ride in the back.

STUMP: There is a lot of truth to that. Somebody must be in the front seat, no question. But the analogy doesn't really work for us; were more like a Swiss Army knife. You've got all these different attachments, but they are all part of the same thing. When you need one specific tool, the rest go back into the handle. That was how the band functioned and still does in many ways. Pete didn't want anyone to get screwed. Some things we've done might not have been the best business decision but were the right human decision. That was very much Pete's thing. I was 19 and very reactionary. If someone pissed me off, I'd be like, 'Screw them forever!' But Pete was very tactful. He was the business guy. Joe was active on the internet. He wouldn't stop believing in this band. He was the promotions guy. Andy was an honest instrumentalist: ‘I'm a drummer, and I'm going to be the best fucking drummer I can be.' He is very disciplined. None of us were that way aside from him. I was the dictator in the studio. I didn't know what producing was at the time or how it worked, but in retrospect, I've produced a lot of records because I'm an asshole in the studio. I'm a nice guy, but I'm not the nicest guy in the studio. It's a lot easier to know what you don't want. We carved out those roles early. We were very dependent on each other.

MCLYNN: I remember sitting in Japan with those guys. None of them were drinking then, but I was drinking plenty. It was happening there, their first time over, and all the shows were sold out. I remember looking at Pete and Patrick and telling Pete, ‘You're the luckiest guy in the world because you found this guy.' Patrick laughed. Then I turned to Patrick and said the same thing to him. Because really, they're yin and yang. They fit together so perfectly. The fact that Patrick found this guy with this vision, Pete had everything for the band laid out in his mind. Patrick, how he can sing, and what he did with Pete's lyrics - no one else could have done that. We tried it, even with the Black Cards project in 2010. We'd find these vocalists. Pete would write lyrics, and they'd try to form them into songs, but they just couldn't do it the way Patrick could. Pete has notebooks full of stuff that Patrick turns into songs. Not only can he sing like that, but how he turns those into songs is an art unto itself. It's really the combination of those two guys that make Fall Out Boy what it is. They're fortunate they found each other.

"I Could Walk This Fine Line Between Elation And Success. We All Know Which Way I'm Going To Strike The Stake Between My Chest" - Fall Out Boy Hits the Mainstream, 2003

Released on May 6, 2003, Take This To Your Grave massively connected with fans. (Fall Out Boy's Evening Out with Your Girlfriend arrived in stores less than two months earlier.) While Take This To Your Grave didn't crack the Billboard 200 upon its release, it eventually spent 30 weeks on the charts. From Under the Cork Tree debuted in the Top 10 just two years later, largely on Grave's momentum. 2007's Infinity on High bowed at #1.

WENTZ: I remember noticing it was getting insane when we would do in-stores. We'd still play anywhere. That was our deal. We liked being able to sell our stuff in the stores, too. It would turn into a riot. We played a Hollister at the mall in Schaumburg, Illinois. A lot of these stores were pretty corporate with a lot of rules, but Hollister would let us rip. Our merch guy was wearing board shorts, took this surfboard off the wall, and started crowd-surfing with it during the last song. I remember thinking things had gotten insane right at that moment.

HURLEY: When we toured with Less Than Jake, there were these samplers with two of their songs and two of ours. Giving those out was a surreal moment. To have real promotion for a record... It wasn't just an ad in a 'zine or something. It was awesome.

MCLYNN: They toured with The Reunion Show, Knockout, and Punch-line. One of their first big tours as an opening act was with MEST. There would be sold-out shows with 1,000 kids, and they would be singing along to Fall Out Boy much louder than to MEST. It was like, 'What's going on here?' It was the same deal with Less Than Jake. It really started catching fire months into the album being out. You just knew something was happening. As a headliner, they went from 500-capacity clubs to 1500 - 2000 capacity venues.

WENTZ: We always wanted to play The Metro in Chicago. It got awkward when they started asking us to play after this band or that band. There were bands we grew up with that were now smaller than us. Headlining The Metro was just wild. My parents came.

MCLYNN: There was a week on Warped Tour, and there was some beel because these guys were up-and-comers, and some of the bands that were a little more established weren't too happy. They were getting a little shit on Warped Tour that week, sort of their initiation. They were on this little, shitty stage. So many kids showed up to watch them in Detroit, and the kids rushed the stage, and it collapsed. The PA failed after like three songs. They finished with an acapella, 'Where is Your Boy,’ and the whole crowd sang along.

WENTZ: That's when every show started ending in a riot because it couldn't be contained. We ended up getting banned from a lot of venues because the entire crowd would end up onstage. It was pure energy. We'd be billed on tour as the opening band, and the promoter would tell us we had to close the show or else everyone would leave after we played. We were a good band to have that happen to because there wasn't any ego. We were just like, "Oh, that's weird.' It was just bizarre. When my parents saw it was this wid thing, they said, 'OK, yeah, maybe take a year off from college.' That year is still going on.

MCLYNN: That Warped Tour was when the band's first big magazine cover, by far, hit the stands. I give a lot of credit to Norman Wonderly and Mike Shea at Alternative Press. They saw what was happening with Fall Out Boy and were like, 'We know it's early with you guys, but we want to give you a cover.' It was the biggest thing to happen to any of us. It really helped kick it to another level. It helped stoke the fires that were burning. This is back when bands like Green Day, Blink-182, and No Doubt still sold millions of records left and right. It was a leap of faith for AP to step out on Fall Out Boy the way they did.

STUMP: That was our first big cover. It was crazy. My parents flipped out. That wasn't a small zine. It was a magazine my mom could find in a bookstore and tell her friends. It was a shocking time. It's still like that. Once the surrealism starts, it never ends. I was onstage with Taylor Swift ten years later. That statement just sounds insane. It's fucking crazy. But when I was onstage, I just fell into it. I wasn't thinking about how crazy it was until afterward. It was the same thing with the AP cover. We were so busy that it was just another one of those things we were doing that day. When we left, I was like, 'Holy fuck! We're on the cover of a magazine! One that I read! I have a subscription to that!'

HURLEY: Getting an 'In The Studio' blurb was a big deal. I remember seeing bands 'in the studio' and thinking, Man, I would love to be in that and have people care that we're in the studio.' There were more minor things, but that was our first big cover.

STUMP: One thing I remember about the photo shoot is I was asked to take off my hat. I was forced to take it off and had been wearing that hat for a while. I never wanted to be the lead singer. I always hoped to be a second guitarist with a backup singer role. I lobbied to find someone else to be the proper singer. But here I was, being the lead singer, and I fucking hated it. When I was a drummer, I was always behind something. Somehow the hat thing started. Pete gave me a hat instead of throwing it away - I think it's the one I'm wearing on the cover of Take This To Your Grave. It became like my Linus blanket. I had my hat, and I could permanently hide. You couldn't see my eyes or much of me, and I was very comfortable that way. The AP cover shoot was the first time someone asked me to remove it. My mom has a poster of that cover in her house, and every time I see it, I see the fear on my face - just trying to maintain composure while filled with terror and insecurity. ‘Why is there a camera on me?'

JANICK: We pounded the pavement every week for two years. We believed early on that something great was going to happen. As we moved to 100,000 and 200,000 albums, there were points where everything was tipping. When they were on the cover of Alternative Press. When they did Warped for five days, and the stage collapsed. We went into Christmas with the band selling 2000 to 3000 a week and in the listening stations at Hot Topic. Fueled By Ramen had never had anything like that before.

MOSTOFI: Pete and I used to joke that if he weren't straight edge, he would have likely been sent to prison or worse at some point before Fall Out Boy. Pete has a predisposition to addictive behavior and chemical dependency. This is something we talked about a lot back in the day. Straight Edge helped him avoid some of the traps of adolescence.

WENTZ: I was straight edge at the time. I don't think our band would have been so successful without that. The bands we were touring with were partying like crazy. Straight Edge helped solidify the relationship between the four of us. We were playing for the love of music, not for partying or girls or stuff like that. We liked being little maniacs running around. Hurley and I were kind of the younger brothers of the hardcore kids we were in bands with. This was an attempt to get out of that shadow a little bit. Nobody is going to compare this band to Racetraitor. You know when you don't want to do exactly what your dad or older brother does? There was a little bit of that.

"Take This To Your Grave, And I'll Take It To Mine" - The Legacy of Take This To Your Grave, 2003-2023

Take This To Your Grave represents a time before the paparazzi followed Wentz to Starbucks, before marriages and children, Disney soundtracks, and all the highs and lows of an illustrious career. The album altered the course for everyone involved with its creation. Crush Music added Miley Cyrus, Green Day, and Weezer to their roster. Fueled By Ramen signed Twenty One Pilots, Paramore, A Day To Remember, and All Time Low.

STUMP: I'm so proud of Take This To Your Grave. I had no idea how much people were going to react to it. I didn't know Fall Out Boy was that good of a band. We were this shitty post-hardcore band that decided to do a bunch of pop-punk before I went to college, and Pete went back to opening for Hatebreed. That was the plan. Somehow this record happened. To explain to people now how beautiful and accidental that record was is difficult. It seems like it had to have been planned, but no, we were that shitty band that opened for 25 Ta Life.

HURLEY: We wanted to make a record as perfect as Saves The Day's Through Being Cool. A front-to-back perfect collection of songs. That was our obsession with Take This To Your Grave. We were just trying to make a record that could be compared in any way to that record. There's just something special about when the four of us came together.

WENTZ: It blows my mind when I hear people talking about Take This To Your Grave or see people including it on lists because it was just this tiny personal thing. It was very barebones. That was all we had, and we gave everything we had to it. Maybe that's how these big iconic bands feel about those records, too. Perhaps that's how James Hetfield feels when we talk about Kill 'Em All. That album was probably the last moment many people had of having us as their band that their little brother didn't know about. I have those feelings about certain bands, too. 'This band was mine. That was the last time I could talk about them at school without anyone knowing who the fuck I was talking about.' That was the case with Take This To Your Grave.

TROHMAN: Before Save Rock N' Roll, there was a rumor that we would come back with one new song and then do a Take This To Your Grave tenth-anniversary tour. But we weren't going to do what people thought we would do. We weren't going to [wear out] our old material by just returning from the hiatus with a Take This To Your Grave tour.

WENTZ: We've been asked why we haven't done a Take This To Your Grave tour. In some ways, it's more respectful not to do that. It would feel like we were taking advantage of where that record sits, what it means to people and us.

HURLEY: When Metallica released Death Magnetic, I loved the record, but I feel like Load and Reload were better in a way, because you knew that's what they wanted to do.

TROHMAN: Some people want us to make Grave again, but I'm not 17. It would be hard to do something like that without it being contrived. Were proud of those songs. We know that’s where we came from. We know the album is an important part of our history.

STUMP: There's always going to be a Take This To Your Grave purist fan who wants that forever: But no matter what we do, we cannot give you 2003. It'll never happen again. I know the feeling, because I've lived it with my favorite bands, too. But there's a whole other chunk of our fans who have grown with us and followed this journey we're on. We were this happy accident that somehow came together. It’s tempting to plagarize yourself. But it’s way more satisfying and exciting to surprise yourself.

MCILRITH: Fall Out Boy is an important band for so many reasons. I know people don't expect the singer of Rise Against to say that, but they really are. If nothing else, they created so much dialog and conversation within not just a scene but an international scene. They were smart. They got accused of being this kiddie pop punk band, but they did smart things with their success. I say that, especially as a guy who grew up playing in the same Chicago hardcore bands that would go on and confront be-ing a part of mainstream music. Mainstream music and the mainstream world are machines that can chew your band up if you don't have your head on straight when you get into it. It's a fast-moving river, and you need to know what direction you're going in before you get into it. If you don't and you hesitate, it'll take you for a ride. Knowing those guys, they went into it with a really good idea. That's something that the hardcore instilled in all of us. Knowing where you stand on those things, we cut our teeth on the hardcore scene, and it made us ready for anything that the world could throw at us, including the giant music industry.

#long post #lke. VERY long post #fall out boy #fob #take this to your grave #tttyg #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley #if theres any typos lmk and i'll fix em this. hust took fucking forever to transcribe.

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mononijikayu · 18 days

Text

non ho l’eta — nanami kento.

“I’m okay, sensei.” you managed to say, though your voice wavered with the effort of holding back. “It’s just... a lot to adjust to, I guess.” He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a question left unasked, and you wondered if he knew—if he could see the turmoil in your heart. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Whatever it is you’re going through... you can talk to me.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU!;

WARNING/s: Angst, Fluff, Safe For Work (SFW), Age Difference (Reader is in early 20s, Nanami is in late 30s), Unrequited Romance, Falling In Love, First Love, Emotional Hurt, Comfort, Confession, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Loss, Letting Go, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Loneliness, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Age Gap;

WORDS: 11k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i told myself this was going to be only five thousand words but it ends up being so long. i'm really sorry. you've been dealing with how long this is. but i love this a lot. i wrote it listening to the song with the same title as this fic and just as much, i think about that manga i read years ago, after the rain. its a good story and the ending, where the ml lets the fl lead go because he cares about her youth - it was great. i hope you like it anyway. thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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A NEW BEGINNING MUST ALWAYS COME YOU THINK. As you settle into the quiet, unfamiliar countryside, the weight of the loss still clings to you. The days are filled with the sounds of nature—birds chirping, the rustle of leaves—but they feel muted compared to the life you left behind. The house is smaller, the town quieter, and everything around you seems to move at a slower pace. But inside, the grief swirls like a storm, refusing to be tamed by the peaceful surroundings.

Your beloved brother Yuuji, always so full of energy, has been quieter since the move. He’s trying to be strong, to put on a brave face for you, but you can see the sadness in his eyes. It was obvious, with how his smile never reaching his eyes like it usually does.

And it felt odd, it felt weird. You weren’t used to your brother being in this. And it hurts you. But you know that you didn’t know what to do to comfort him. You don’t want to drive him away by speaking to him about it. And you don’t want to hurt him by making him feel like you were overbearing either.

Your new house was still quiet. And you weren’t used to that either. Grandpa Wasuke’s voice would be ringing out through the house today, telling you both to go and start washing up so you could eat dinner. Or sometimes when you guys got home late because of sports practice, he would be too loud to scold you because you both forget to tell him that you were going home late and making him worried.

You miss your grandfather. And you were sure of Yuuji’s feelings being the same too. The silence was too loud, even between you and your brother. You wished it wasn’t. Because you were all you had now. One evening, as you both sit on the porch, the sky painted in the soft hues of sunset, Yuji breaks the silence.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he begins, his voice softer than usual. “Being here, without him."

"Yeah." You mumble under your breath. "It...it is."

Your brother lets out a soft sigh. "I thought moving away would help, but...”

He trails off, staring at the horizon, his usual spark dimmed by the weight of unimaginable grief. You nod, understanding exactly what he means. The move was supposed to be a new beginning, but it feels more like an escape that didn’t quite work. And yet, you were stuck. And so was he too.

“I miss him so much, you know?” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “I thought...maybe if we came here, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But everything just reminds me of him. Even...even the silence......"

Yuuji looks at you, his lipspursed in a line. "I....I know."

"Grandpa’s voice is not here anymore and not hearing it anymore is just….” You feel the tears threatening to fall.

Yuuji turns to you, his expression a mix of sadness and determination. “We’ve still got each other. At least there’s that, sis.” he says, his hand reaching out to rest on yours. “And we’ll get through this. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but...we will.”

His words are simple, but they carry a weight of hope that you cling to. The grief might not vanish with a change of scenery, but at least you have Yuji by your side. And that, somehow, makes the pain a little more bearable.

The new town was picturesque—a small, idyllic place with rolling fields, charming cottages, and a slower pace of life that starkly contrasted with the frenetic energy of the city you had left behind. The local college, with its ivy-covered walls and quaint architecture, offered a promise of new beginnings and opportunities. Yet, beneath the serene surface, both you and Yuuji felt an underlying emptiness that was impossible to ignore.

As you and Yuuji navigated your first weeks at college, you found yourselves struggling to adapt to the quieter, more insular environment. The once-familiar hum of city life, with its constant activity and vibrant energy, was replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. The silence of the countryside, while initially soothing, soon became a reminder of the profound solitude you both felt.

The college itself was a small, close-knit community, where everyone seemed to know each other. The interactions were friendly and the atmosphere warm, but the sense of being an outsider in this new world was palpable. The academic workload was manageable, but your focus was often fragmented by the persistent ache of grief. Classes that once might have been engaging felt distant and abstract, overshadowed by the weight of your personal loss.

Every corner of the town seemed to hold echoes of the life you had left behind. The quaint coffee shop that you frequented, with its rustic charm and homemade pastries, became a bittersweet reminder of the comfort you once had. The local park, with its winding paths and serene pond, offered moments of reflection but also highlighted the contrast between the peaceful surroundings and the turmoil within.

The routine of daily life was a constant struggle between embracing the new and mourning the past. Each day, you and Yuuji tried to immerse yourselves in your studies and social activities, hoping to find distraction and connection. Yet, despite your best efforts, the shadows of grief seemed to follow you, making it difficult to engage fully with the present.

Yuuji’s energy began to return with the arrival of new friends. He introduced you to them one day—Kugisaki Nobara, a fiery and confident girl with a sharp tongue, and Fushiguro Megumi, a quiet and serious boy who seemed to understand more than he let on. You watched as your brother slowly began to resemble his old self, the grief loosening its grip on him with each laugh he shared with them, each story he told.

There was a joy in his voice that you hadn’t heard in months, a tenderness in the way he spoke about his new friends, and it warmed your heart to see him healing. You felt truly happy for him—how could you not? He deserved this chance to move forward, to find light in the darkness.

And yet, a small, stubborn pain lodged itself in your chest, growing a little each day. You couldn’t help but notice the way you were falling behind. No matter how much you tried, the sorrow still clung to you, as if you were trapped in a place where time stood still, unable to reach the same place of healing that Yuji had found.

You tried to join in, to share in his happiness, but it felt like you were on the outside looking in, a spectator in your own life. The laughter that once came so easily to you now felt forced, and every smile was tinged with a sadness you couldn’t shake.

Yuuji didn’t notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t know how to help. He was so caught up in his new friendships, in the joy of finally finding some semblance of normalcy, that your struggles seemed to fade into the background. You didn’t blame him for it; you were glad he had found something to hold onto. But the loneliness was there, a constant reminder that while he was moving forward, you were still stuck in the past, unable to move on.

A lot of this was on you—that much you were painfully aware of. Yuuji had nothing to do with your unhappiness; he had been nothing but supportive, trying his best to bring some light back into your life. No, it was you who clung to the sorrow, who let it seep into every corner of your being until it became a part of you. You were the one at fault, wallowing in the pain because it felt like the only way to hold on to the past.

Maybe, in some twisted way, you were punishing yourself. The guilt gnawed at you, whispering that you hadn’t been a good enough granddaughter, that you had failed him in some way. And the thought of moving on, of letting go of the grief, felt like a betrayal. Because if you forgot, if you let the pain fade, what would be left of your grandfather? Wouldn’t that mean he didn’t exist anymore?

You couldn’t bear the thought. He was all you and Yuuji had, the one who had raised you, who had been your anchor in a world that often felt too chaotic to navigate alone. Clinging to him, to the pain, to the loneliness he had left behind—it felt like the only way to keep him close, to make sure he wasn’t forgotten.

You knew it wasn’t healthy, that it was holding you back while Yuuji was moving forward. But you couldn’t let go. Not yet. Not when it felt like losing him all over again. So you held on, hoping that by keeping the pain alive, you could keep a part of him with you, even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness in the process.

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YOU REALIZED THAT YOU WERE A NIGHT OWL. Because the night felt like a relief. Even if it was too loud, the night was kinder than the day. It was two sides of the coin, a mercy and a pain still, you think. The silence of the countryside was both a comfort and a torment.

The absence of city noise left space for your thoughts to swirl, allowing the grief to settle in more deeply. The memories of your grandfather, so vivid and cherished, felt both near and painfully out of reach, teasing you with their closeness yet reminding you of the distance that now separated you.

The quiet of the countryside, which had once promised peace, now seemed to amplify the emptiness left by his passing. During the day, you could distract yourself with the mundane tasks of settling into a new home, but when night fell, the stillness felt oppressive, as if the world had stopped moving just to remind you of what you’d lost.

It was a strange paradox—the night brought a certain relief, a break from the pretense of normalcy that the day demanded, but it also intensified the ache within you. The darkness was both a sanctuary and a prison, offering solace in its quiet yet refusing to let you escape the sorrow that lay just beneath the surface. In the night, you could almost feel him there, his presence lingering in the shadows, but it was a comfort tinged with the sharp pain of knowing he was gone.

The countryside, with its vast, empty spaces and endless quiet, had a way of magnifying your loneliness. What was supposed to be a balm for your grief had instead become a mirror, reflecting the void his absence had created in your life. And so, as you lay in bed, staring into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel that the night, though kinder in some ways, also held a cruelty of its own—one that forced you to confront the depth of your loss in the silence that surrounded you.

During the day, you tried to lose yourself in the routine of university life, hoping that the distraction would somehow ease the ache. But even the familiar rhythm of lectures and assignments couldn’t drown out the emptiness that had settled within you. It was in one of these moments, as you sat quietly in the college library, as he approached you after the lecture, his usual composed expression softened by concern.

“May I ask you something?” he said, his voice low and measured. There was no judgment in his tone, only a gentle curiosity that made you nod in response.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his gaze steady on yours. “Why are you still in university?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t something you had given much thought to—not really. You had simply kept going, attending classes, completing assignments, because that’s what you were supposed to do. But now, confronted by professor Nanami Kento’s calm and earnest inquiry, you find yourself struggling to answer.

You hesitated, searching for words that didn’t come easily. “I don’t know, sensei.” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess... It's what I’ve always done. For relief….But I just….I don’t….”

Nanami nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “But is it what you want? To be here?” he asked, his tone gentle but insistent. “Or are you here because it’s easier to keep going than to stop and face what you’re really feeling?”

The honesty in his words cut through the numbness that had settled over you. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze as the truth of his question sank in. Why were you still here? Was it because you truly wanted to be, or because it was easier to bury yourself in routine than to confront the grief that was still so raw and overwhelming?

“I don’t know, sensei.” you repeated, your voice trembling now. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Nanami didn’t push you for more. Instead, he simply stood there, offering his presence as a quiet support. “It’s okay not to know anything.” he said after a moment. “It’s okay to take time to figure it out. But don’t be afraid to ask yourself these questions. Don’t be afraid to face what’s really going on inside.”

His words lingered with you long after he had left, echoing in the silence of your room that night. For the first time, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to pause, to question, to not have all the answers right away. Maybe it was okay to admit that you were still hurting, still lost, and that you didn’t have to have it all figured out just yet.

From what you remember, the first person to truly notice your pain was your professor in Philosophy—Nanami Kento. He was always composed, with a stern exterior that didn’t betray much emotion, but there was a kindness in his eyes that softened whenever he looked at you and Yuuji. Perhaps it was because he understood, on some level, what it was like to carry the burden of loss.

Nanami–sensei never pried, never asked questions that would force you to confront what you weren’t ready to face. But there was something in the way he looked at you, a quiet understanding that made you feel seen, even in your darkest moments. He didn’t offer empty words of comfort or try to tell you that things would get better with time. Instead, he acknowledged your pain with a simple nod or a gentle word, as if to say that it was okay to feel what you were feeling.

You often caught him watching you during lectures, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, as if he was trying to assess how you were holding up. He’d ask you how you were doing in a way that suggested he wasn’t just asking about your academic performance but about you as a person, as someone who was grieving. His presence was steady, a quiet anchor in the storm of emotions you were struggling to navigate.

In those moments, you felt a strange sense of comfort. Nanami didn’t try to fix you, didn’t push you to move on before you were ready. He simply let you exist in your pain, offering a silent understanding that you weren’t alone in it. And though it didn’t make the nights any easier or the grief any less suffocating, it was a small comfort to know that someone else understood, that someone else had been there too.

Somehow, it was easy to see in his eyes that he had gone through something similar, and that pained him in some way. And he hated that someone were to be in a position akin to yours, in a similar conundrum so young as you were. He took it upon himself to make sure you were both doing okay, often checking in on you, offering guidance, and making sure that neither of you felt alone.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the office window, illuminating the neat rows of books and papers that lined Nanami’s desk. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room as you sat across from him, feeling the weight of your emotions as you tried to make sense of your new life.

“Nanami–sensei.” you began, your voice soft but determined, “I’ve noticed you’ve been going out of your way to check in on me. I appreciate it, really, but I can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. You seem to understand what we’re going through in a way that’s more than just professional.”

Nanami looked up from his papers, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of sadness. He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment before responding. “It’s not easy to see young people struggling with grief and loss. It brings back memories of my own experiences, of times when I had to navigate similar challenges.”

You frowned slightly, sensing the depth of his feelings. “You’ve been through something like this yourself?”

Nanami nodded, his expression reflecting the weight of past pain. “Yes. I’ve had my share of losses, and while each experience is unique, it is normal. Seeing you in such heavy burdens….I must help in that. It is my duty.”

A moment of silence passed between you, the gravity of his words settling over the room. You could see the empathy in his warm brown eyes, a deep well of understanding that went beyond mere sympathy.

“I didn’t realize you had experienced something like this, sensei.” you said quietly. “It’s comforting to know that you understand, but it’s also hard to see how much it affects you. I’m so sorry about what happened to you, sensei.”

Nanami’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Please don’t worry. I don’t mind. And I try to keep my personal experiences separate from my role as a teacher, but sometimes it’s inevitable. I can’t help but empathize deeply with students who are struggling. If it helps you, then maybe it would make it easier on you.”

You nodded, appreciating the honesty and vulnerability he was showing. “It’s been hard for us to adjust, with everything that’s happened. I understand, sensei. But….. Your support has made a difference, even if we haven’t always known how to express it.”

Nanami offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to make sure you and Yuuji know that you’re not alone in this. Sometimes, just knowing that someone cares and is willing to listen can make a difference.”

There was a sense of mutual understanding in the room, a connection forged through shared experiences and empathy. The conversation had brought a sense of clarity, revealing the depth of Nanami’s compassion and the personal struggles he had faced.

“You’ve been a source of support and I want to thank you for that.” you said, feeling a sense of gratitude. “It’s good to know that...we have someone. It's...good. That I...I have someone, sensei.”

Nanami’s expression was one of gentle encouragement. “You’re welcome. If you ever need someone to talk to or guidance as you navigate this transition, don’t hesitate to reach out. My door is always open.”

At first, it was just a relief to have someone looking out for you, someone who cared enough to notice the cracks in your armor. But as time went on, you found yourself longing for more of his attention, craving the comfort he provided. His presence was steady, reassuring, a shining new light that gave you warmth in the cold uncertainty of your new life.

Every glance, every word of encouragement, every moment spent with him, stirred something deep within you. You began to realize that it wasn’t just gratitude or respect that you felt for him. It was something more, something that made your heart race and your thoughts linger on him long after he had gone. You were falling in love with Nanami Kento, and as frightening as it was to acknowledge, it was also something you could no longer deny.

The realization that you were in love with Nanami Kento crept up on you slowly, like the dawn breaking over the quiet countryside. At first, you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that it was just a fleeting infatuation born out of your need for comfort in a difficult time. But the more you tried to suppress those feelings, the stronger they became.

It started with the way your heart would skip a beat when he entered the room, the way your eyes would search for him in a crowd, hoping for just a brief moment of connection. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, cherishing the conversations you shared, no matter how brief. His calm demeanor, his quiet strength, the way he seemed to understand you without needing to ask too many questions—it all drew you in, making you feel safe in a world that had felt so unstable for so long.

The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for his presence, even when he wasn’t around. You would replay your interactions in your mind, searching for hidden meanings in his words, wondering if he felt even a fraction of what you were feeling. The thought of being in love with him was both exhilarating and terrifying, a delicate balance between hope and fear.

You knew it was risky, that opening your heart to someone else meant making yourself vulnerable again, something you weren’t sure you were ready for. But the warmth you felt in Nanami’s presence, the way he made you feel like you weren’t alone in your pain, was something you couldn’t ignore. And so, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, you allowed yourself to embrace the feelings growing inside you, no longer able to deny the truth: you were in love with Nanami Kento.

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IT FELT WRONG TO FEEL GENUINE FEELINGS FOR HIM. But you just can't help yourself. You had found something warm in your life for the first time in a long time. And you wanted to hold onto theat feeling, even just for a little while.

You found yourself looking forward to Nanami's lectures with a new sense of anticipation, one that went beyond the academic content. It wasn't just about the subject matter or the intellectual challenge; it was the way his presence seemed to anchor you in a world that often felt tumultuous.

His voice, calm and measured, had a soothing quality that cut through the noise of your internal struggles, providing a sense of stability that was both comforting and invigorating. It felt like the sun in the morning sky, greeting you with all the warmth it could offer.

Every lecture became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the outside world faded away and all that remained was the rhythmic cadence of his speech and the depth of his insights. His voice had a way of wrapping around you like a soft blanket, offering warmth and clarity in moments of confusion. It was as if he spoke directly to your soul, providing the reassurance you craved without even realizing it.

You began to pay closer attention to the little details of his presence, each one becoming a part of the mosaic of your growing affection. You noticed how he always carried a thermos of coffee, a small but meaningful ritual that seemed to add a personal touch to his professional demeanor. It was a simple thing, but it spoke to a side of him that was both grounded and familiar, like a quiet reflection of his everyday life.

The way he adjusted his glasses when he was deep in thought fascinated you. It was a small, habitual gesture that seemed to signal his immersion in the subject, his focus and dedication to his work. In those moments, when he was lost in contemplation, you saw a different side of him—one that was entirely absorbed in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding. It was a reminder of his depth, his passion for what he did, and it drew you in further.

And then there were the rare but genuine smiles that occasionally graced his lips. These smiles were not frequent, but when they appeared, they were like fleeting glimpses of sunlight breaking through the clouds. They were unguarded and sincere, revealing a side of him that was warm and approachable. These moments were precious to you, a sign that beneath his composed exterior, there was a person who experienced joy and kindness in the midst of his professional life.

Each detail, each nuance of his behavior, seemed to create a rich tapestry that captivated you. The combination of his voice, his habits, and his rare smiles painted a portrait of someone who was both steadfast and deeply human. As you became more attuned to these subtleties, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn't anticipated. The more you observed, the more you appreciated the intricate layers of his character, each one adding depth to your feelings and making it even harder to keep your emotions in check.

In the quiet moments between lectures, when you would reflect on these details, you felt a growing sense of connection to him. It was as if the little things he did were speaking directly to your heart, creating a bond that was both profound and fragile. And with each passing day, the realization that you were falling for him became more undeniable, a truth that both comforted and challenged you as you navigated the complexities of your emotions.

Each day with the distance, your heart kept making a way towards Nanami–sensei, slowly weaving themselves into the fabric of your life in ways you couldn’t have anticipated. You found yourself looking forward to his classes with an eagerness that surprised you, your thoughts consumed by the anticipation of seeing him, hearing his voice, and perhaps catching one of those brief, meaningful glances that seemed to hold a world of unspoken understanding.

Your interactions with him took on a new significance. Every exchange, no matter how small, became a moment to savor. You began to notice the little things about him—the way he would adjust his tie with meticulous precision, the way his eyes softened when he spoke to you, the subtle way his lips would curve into a faint smile when you managed to make him laugh. These details became precious to you, feeding the growing affection in your heart.

But with that growing affection came a gnawing anxiety. You were all too aware of the delicate nature of your feelings, and the fear of rejection loomed large in your mind. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if your admiration was one-sided, a product of your own need for comfort and connection? The thought of losing the quiet understanding and support he offered terrified you, and so you kept your feelings hidden, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to keep your emotions in check, they found ways to surface. You noticed that you began to linger after class, hoping for a few extra moments with him. You found yourself volunteering for tasks you knew would require his guidance, just to have an excuse to be near him. And when he asked you how you were doing, his concern evident in his voice, you felt a pang of longing so intense it nearly took your breath away.

And then, one afternoon, as you were gathering your things after class, Nanami Kento and you bumped into each other. You blinked as you stopped. When you realized who he was, you gasped and bowed. You started to apologize to him. There was a hesitation in his movements, an uncharacteristic uncertainty that made your heart race.

“I’m so sorry, Nanami-sensei. I didn’t mean it—” you stammered, your voice trembling with the weight of unsaid words. The apology slipped out before you could fully process it, driven by a fear that you had somehow crossed a line, exposing too much of yourself.

Nanami’s expression remained calm, his eyes studying you with an unreadable intensity. For a moment, you feared that you had made things awkward, that the fragile connection between you might shatter under the pressure of your emotions.

But then, with a gentleness that both surprised and reassured you, he spoke. “May I walk you to your next class?” His voice was low and steady, grounding you in the moment. But there was something else in his tone, a subtle shift that hinted at a deeper concern, a connection that went beyond the formal boundaries of teacher and student.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. The offer was simple, yet the way he framed it made it feel like more—a gesture of care, a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that had been building between you.

Unable to trust your voice, you nodded, grateful for the reprieve. Together, you fell into step, the silence between you heavy with unsaid thoughts, yet comforting in its familiarity.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but wonder if Nanami sensed the turmoil within you, if he understood the depth of what you had tried to keep hidden. And as the campus buzzed quietly around you, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a moment suspended in time.

Finally, he spoke, his voice breaking the silence with a gentleness that caught you off guard. “You seem... different lately.” he said, his words careful, as if he was treading on fragile ground. “Is everything alright?”

The concern in his voice was genuine, and it took everything in you to hold back the flood of emotions that his words triggered. You wanted to tell him everything, to pour out your heart and confess the feelings that had been building inside you for so long. But the fear held you back, kept your words locked away.

“I’m okay, sensei.” you managed to say, though your voice wavered with the effort of holding back. “It’s just... a lot to adjust to, I guess.”

He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a question left unasked, and you wondered if he knew—if he could see the turmoil in your heart.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Whatever it is you’re going through... you can talk to me.”

His words were a lifeline, and for a moment, you were tempted to grab hold, to let yourself be vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be since your grandfather’s passing. But the fear of what might happen if you did—if you let him see how deeply you had fallen for him—kept you silent.

Instead, you offered him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Nanami-sensei. That means a lot.”

He nodded, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he looked away, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. But even as the silence returned, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed between you.

Yuuji, ever the perceptive brother, began to pick up on the changes in you with his usual blend of curiosity and teasing. He’d comment on your newfound enthusiasm for school, his tone lighthearted and playful.

“Wow, someone’s really getting into their classes these days.” he’d say, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Are you trying to impress a certain someone?”

But behind his teasing, there was always a hint of concern in his eyes. He knew you well enough to sense when something was amiss, even if you were trying your best to mask it. The bond between you and Yuuji has always been strong, built on shared experiences and mutual support. Now, with only the two of you facing the world, his worry for you was palpable.

You were acutely aware of his concern, but discussing your feelings for Nanami–sensei felt like navigating a minefield. It was a topic too delicate, too intricate to lay bare. The emotions you were grappling with were still forming, shifting and evolving in ways you couldn’t fully articulate. The fear of misunderstanding, the potential for things to become awkward or strained, made it almost impossible to open up to Yuuji about it.

So you chose to keep your feelings close, wrapped in the quiet spaces of your heart. Whenever Yuuji’s concern for you surfaced, you would offer a reassuring smile and change the subject, deflecting his probing questions with practiced ease.

“Just trying to find my footing, bro.” you’d say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “You know how it is, trying to make the most of a new start.”

“You sure?” He asks you, a warm concern in his eyes.

You smiled at him. “I do. I’m fine. Really.”

Yuuji would accept your evasions with a nod, his worry temporarily set aside as he shifted his focus to lighter matters. But you could see the question in his eyes, the unspoken concern that lingered even as he attempted to mask it with humor.

In your heart, you appreciated his concern more than you could express. But the feelings you had for Nanami remained a private struggle, something you needed to work through on your own before you could even begin to share it with anyone, even Yuuji. For now, you hold onto the fragile hope that, in time, you would find a way to navigate your emotions, to understand them and perhaps, one day, to share them without fear.

As you continued to go through your days, the quiet moments with Nanami remained a solace and a source of intense longing. His presence in your life was a beacon, guiding you through the uncertainty of your new surroundings. And though you struggled with the weight of your feelings, you found a measure of comfort in knowing that he was there, a constant, reassuring presence in the midst of the turmoil.

Your interactions with Nanami–sensei became the highlights of your day. You’d catch his gaze during class, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. There were times when he’d linger after class, asking if you and Yuuji were settling in okay, if you needed anything. His concern felt genuine, and every time he spoke to you, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest.

But with that warmth came uncertainty. Nanami was your sensei, a mentor figure, someone who had taken on the role of a protector for you and your brother. The lines between student and teacher, between gratitude and affection, were blurring in ways that scared you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he could ever see you as anything more than just a student or a young person in need of guidance.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself drawn to him more and more, despite your best efforts to keep your emotions in check. There were moments when you thought you caught something in his eyes, a softness that made you wonder if he might feel something too. But those moments were fleeting, gone before you could fully grasp them.

Still, the longing grew, becoming an ache that you couldn’t ignore. You yearned for more than just his care and concern; you wanted to be closer to him, to know him beyond the walls of the classroom. But the fear of rejection, of ruining the fragile bond you had with him, kept you silent.

The conflict within you was a constant companion, as you tried to navigate your feelings while maintaining the façade of normalcy. You knew that falling in love with Nanami was risky, that it could lead to heartache, but your heart seemed to have a mind of its own, pushing you toward him despite the potential consequences.

You lingered in the classroom long after the other students had left, your movements slow and deliberate as you packed your bag. The quiet of the room was comforting, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. Yuuji had already gone off to his club activities, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and with Nanami.

As you reached for your bag, you felt a pair of eyes on you, an almost tangible weight that drew your gaze. Glancing up, you saw Nanami watching you from his desk, his expression thoughtful, a subtle crease forming between his brows.

His eyes, usually so composed and distant, now held a depth that seemed to reflect his internal contemplation. The warmth of his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you felt like it had narrowed to just the two of you.

You could feel the pull of his attention, the way it lingered on you with a quiet intensity. It was as if he was searching for something, trying to understand a part of you that you hadn’t yet revealed. The weight of his gaze was both comforting and unnerving, a silent conversation that spoke volumes.

Trying to steady yourself, you offered him a tentative smile, hoping it would convey the reassurance you struggled to articulate. But his eyes remained fixed on you, and you wondered what thoughts were running through his mind.

“You’re still here this late.” he said, his voice gentle in the stillness. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to put your feelings into words. “Yeah, I just… needed a moment to myself.”

Nanami nodded, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He stopped a few feet away, leaning casually against the desk beside you, his arms crossed. Despite his composed demeanor, there was something warm in his gaze, something that made your heart flutter.

“It’s been a lot to adjust to, hasn’t it?” he said, his voice low and steady. “A new town, new school, after everything that’s happened.”

You looked down, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag. “Yeah, it has. But… having you here has helped. More than you know, sensei.”

There was a pause, and when you dared to look up, you saw that his expression had softened even more. The usual sternness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a gentleness that made your breath catch.

“I’m glad I could help you.” Nanami replied quietly. He uncrossed his arms, his hand almost reaching out to you before he stopped himself, letting it fall to his side. “You have been through a lot. It’s only natural to need support.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. The way he spoke, the concern in his voice—it was all too much, and yet not enough. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much his presence meant to you, how much you looked forward to these moments alone with him. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nanami Kento seemed to sense your inner turmoil. He stepped a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, you know you can come to me, right?”

The sincerity in his voice, the closeness of his presence—it made something inside you ache. You wanted so badly to close the distance between you, to feel his arms around you, to find comfort in his embrace. But you knew you couldn’t. Not yet.

“I know, sensei.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiled then, a small, rare smile that sent warmth flooding through you. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… take care of yourself. And your brother Yuuji, too. He seems like a good young man too.”

You nodded again, but as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. He was still watching you, that same gentle look in his eyes, and you knew then that your feelings were undeniable.

As you walked out of the classroom, your heart felt heavier with the weight of your unspoken emotions, but there was also a small, flickering hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Nanami could feel the same way.

But even then, you were acutely aware of your limitations and the vast knowledge gap that existed between you and Nanami. He was older, more experienced, a man who had seen and done so much more than you could even imagine. It wasn’t just his age or his wisdom that set him apart—it was the way he carried himself, with a quiet confidence and a sense of purpose that you found both admirable and intimidating.

As much as you were drawn to him, a part of you couldn’t help but doubt whether your feelings could ever be returned. You were still so young, barely stepping into adulthood, while Nanami had long since found his place in the world. What could someone like him possibly see in you? The thought lingered in the back of your mind, a constant reminder of the distance between you.

And then there was the fear—the fear that he might not like you in the way you hoped. He was kind to you, yes, and he looked out for you and Yuuji with a care that went beyond mere duty. But did that kindness stem from affection, or was it simply his nature to protect those who needed it? You didn’t know, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

The truth was, you couldn’t see how he would ever reciprocate your feelings. He was your professor, a mentor figure, someone who had taken on the role of a guardian in your life. To him, you were just a student, someone who needed guidance and support, not a romantic partner. And yet, despite all your doubts and fears, you couldn’t stop the way your heart leapt whenever you were near him.

The rational part of you tried to suppress those feelings, to remind yourself of the unlikelihood of anything ever happening between you. But the heart has a way of ignoring logic, and yours had latched onto Nanami in a way that was becoming impossible to ignore. You were in love with him, even if you couldn’t say it aloud, even if you didn’t think he could ever feel the same way.

So, you kept those feelings locked away, hidden behind polite smiles and carefully chosen words. It was safer that way, less painful than risking rejection. But even as you tried to push your emotions aside, you knew that they were there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest opportunity to break free.

After a particularly long day of classes, you and Yuuji walked home together under the fading light of the setting sun. His friends were going to be busy tonight, so you were able to go home together. He insisted to help you with your school bag, but you kept insisting that it was fine. Yet, he was your older brother (by four minutes) and had pulled that card and carried your bag for you anyway.

The countryside was quiet, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes and the distant chirping of crickets. Yuuji had been unusually quiet, and you could feel his eyes on you every now and then, as if he was trying to gauge something. Finally, as you neared your home, he spoke up.

"Hey, you’ve been acting kinda different lately." Yuuji said, his tone light but tinged with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You glanced at him, caught off guard by his sudden observation. "Different? What do you mean?"

Yuuji shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don’t know. You just seem… I don’t know, distracted? Like your mind’s somewhere else. I noticed you’ve been staying late at school a lot too."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks and quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. "It’s nothing, really. Just trying to keep up with everything, I guess."

But Yuuji wasn’t so easily convinced. He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "It’s more than that, isn’t it? You know you can talk to me, right? We’re in this together."

There was no escaping it now. You sighed, knowing that Yuuji wasn’t going to let this go. "It’s just… there’s a lot on my mind. And yeah, I’ve been thinking about someone."

Yuuji raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Someone? Like who?"

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. Finally, you admitted, "It’s Nanami-sensei."

Yuuji blinked, processing this information. "Nanami-sensei? Our professor Nanami? Who’s like… way older than you?"

You winced at the bluntness of his words. "Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly… ideal."

Yuuji softened, realizing that this was something you were struggling with. "Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… didn’t expect it, that’s all. I mean, he’s a good guy, but… you really like him, don’t you?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety at finally saying it out loud. "I do. But it’s complicated, Yuuji. He’s older....and I don’t even know if he’d ever see me that way....I doubt it. I feel like I’m just setting myself up for disappointment. And it’s not…It’s not right. There’s so much wrong with it. I know.”

Yuuji frowned, deep in thought. "That’s a tough spot to be in. But you know, Nanami-sensei seems to care about you a lot. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re okay. Maybe there’s more there than you think."

You shook your head, the doubts creeping back in. "Or maybe he’s just being kind because he knows we’ve been through a lot. It’s not like he’d ever look at me the way I look at him. It’s….It’s wrong.”

Yuuji placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t mean you’re not worth it. You deserve to feel some happiness. Even if you never say it to him. Even if you don’t act on it, it’s how you feel. Wrong or right, it’s still human feelings, isn’t it?”

“I just… What should I do? It’s going to be bad, Yuuji. I don’t want to do things that would be bad for me and especially for Nanami-sensei. Over my childish feelings.”

Yuuji’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and determination. “Listen, it’s not about being childish. Feelings are complicated and real, and they don’t just go away because we want them to. What matters is how you handle them.”

He paused, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe the best thing you can do right now is to take things one step at a time. Figure out what’s best without rushing or putting yourself in a difficult position."

You listened, trying to absorb his words. They offered a sense of perspective, a reminder that navigating your feelings didn’t have to be an all-or-nothing endeavor. Yuuji’s encouragement made you feel less isolated in your struggle, less like you were facing this alone.

“Thanks, bro.” you said quietly, your voice carrying the weight of both gratitude and the lingering uncertainty. “I guess I just need to give myself a bit more grace, and maybe, take a step back to really understand what’s best.”

Yuuji nodded, a reassuring smile on his face. “Exactly. Give yourself the space to figure things out, and don’t be too hard on yourself. Emotions are messy, and that’s okay, hm?”

You looked at him, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Yuuji. I really needed to hear that."

He grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "What are brothers for? Besides, I kinda want to see how this turns out."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. For now, the future was still uncertain, but at least you knew you had Yuuji by your side, no matter what happened next. And maybe, he was all you needed. Because at the end of the day, you know how it will all work out. How it will all end. But you let yourself dream anyway.

You were idealistic, often finding yourself lost in daydreams where you would gather the courage to approach Nanami. In those fantasies, you imagined asking him for patience, telling him that one day, when the time was right, you would be ready to offer your love completely. You pictured yourself standing before him, your heart in your hands, promising that with time, you could bridge the gap between your worlds.

But deep down, you knew this was nothing more than romantic idealism—a longing to experience a love that felt as profound as the feelings you harbored for him. The desire to be seen, to be cherished by someone as steadfast and admirable as Nanami Kento, was powerful, but it was also grounded in a reality you couldn’t ignore.

As much as you wanted to believe that your love could transcend the differences between you, there was a part of you that understood the truth. You were too young, too inexperienced, and no matter how much you grew, there would always be a gap that time alone couldn’t close. Nanami–sensei wasn’t just older—he was wiser, more grounded, and had already lived through phases of life that you had yet to experience.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that he likely wouldn’t want to love someone younger, someone who was still finding their place in the world. His kindness toward you, his care and concern, came from a place of responsibility, not from the kind of romantic interest you wished for. You knew that he saw you as a student, maybe even as someone who needed guidance, but not as an equal partner in love.

This understanding brought with it a quiet, bittersweet resignation. You loved Nanami, perhaps more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but you knew that he wasn’t the one for you. The future you imagined, where you and Nanami could be together, was a beautiful dream, but it was just that—a dream.

As much as it hurt to admit, you knew you had to let go of that dream, to accept that some things, no matter how deeply you wished for them, weren’t meant to be.

The days that followed were a mix of emotions—moments where you felt determined to move on, followed by others where your heart clung stubbornly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But as time passed, reality became harder to ignore, and you found yourself slowly coming to terms with the truth.

You still admired Nanami–sensei, still cared for him deeply, but you began to see him in a different light. Instead of focusing on the impossible, you tried to appreciate what you did have—a mentor who genuinely cared for your well-being, someone who had guided you through a difficult period of your life. It wasn’t the romantic love you had dreamed of, but it was something valuable, something that had shaped you in ways you hadn’t fully understood before.

In your quieter moments, when you were alone with your thoughts, you allowed yourself to grieve the loss of that dream. It was painful to let go, but you knew it was necessary. Holding on to something that could never be would only cause more heartache in the long run.

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HE KNOWS THAT HE’S NOT A GOOD MAN. Because what good man can feel like this? Nanami Kento had always prided himself on his ability to maintain control, to keep a clear head no matter the situation. It was a skill honed through years of experience, of facing the harsh realities of life and coming out on the other side with a firm grip on his emotions. But lately, that control had begun to slip, and it all started with you.

At first, he dismissed the subtle changes in his behavior as nothing more than his natural inclination to look after those who needed guidance. You and Yuuji had been through a lot, and it was only right that he, as your teacher, offered support where he could. But as the days turned into weeks, he couldn’t ignore the way his thoughts kept drifting back to you—your quiet resilience, your gentle smiles, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you were passionate about.

It wasn’t long before he realized the truth: he was growing attached to you in ways that went far beyond the boundaries of a student-teacher relationship. It was a realization that troubled him deeply, shaking the foundations of the discipline he had built his life upon.

Nanami noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, the subtle shifts in your demeanor whenever you were around him. He wasn’t blind to the affection you tried so hard to keep hidden, the way you seemed to seek out his presence, even if only for a few moments of conversation. There were times when he almost allowed himself to reciprocate, to let his guard down and acknowledge the feelings that were steadily growing in his chest.

But each time, he pulled back, reminding himself of the stark reality of your situation. You were young, with your whole life ahead of you, full of potential and promise. You deserve someone who could match your energy, someone who could grow with you, not someone like him—someone who had already been worn down by the world, who had seen and done things he wished he could forget.

It wasn’t fair to you, he thought, to burden you with the affections of a man who had lost his youth, who had seen too much to ever be truly carefree again. You deserved more than what he could offer, and the thought of tainting your bright future with the shadows of his past was unbearable.

So, Nanami Kento buried his feelings deep inside, locking them away where they couldn’t hurt you—or him. He told himself that it was the right thing to do, that maintaining a professional distance was the only way to protect you both. But no matter how hard he tried, those feelings remained, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to break free at the slightest provocation.

There were moments when he questioned his resolve, when the weight of his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. But each time, he steeled himself, knowing that this was a line he couldn’t cross. He cared too much about you to allow himself to be selfish, to act on feelings that could only lead to pain and regret.

In the end, Nanami chose to distance himself, subtly at first, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He still checked in on you, still offered his guidance when you needed it, but he made sure to keep a barrier between you, a wall that kept his emotions firmly in check. It was agonizing, knowing that he was pushing away something that could have been beautiful, but he knew it was the only way to ensure that you remained unscathed by the harsh realities of his world.

You were too precious, too full of life, to be drawn into the darkness that he carried with him. And so, Nanami resolved to watch over you from afar, to be the steady presence you could rely on, but never more than that. It was his duty, his responsibility, to protect you—not just from the dangers of the world, but from himself as well.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how strong his feelings for you became, Nanami knew he had to bury them deep, where they would never see the light of day. It was the only way to ensure that you remained untouched by the shadows of his past, free to find a love that was worthy of you, even if that love could never be his.

Nanami Kento had been wrestling with his emotions in solitude, believing that burying his feelings was the only way to protect you from the shadows of his past. It was a decision made with the utmost care, a sacrifice he felt necessary to ensure your happiness. But his internal struggle did not go unnoticed by his colleagues, Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri, who were perceptive enough to sense that something was troubling their friend.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day, Gojo and Shoko decided to check in on Nanami. They found him in the teachers’ lounge, sitting alone with a cup of tea, his expression distant. Gojo, ever the perceptive one, noted the pensive look on Nanami’s face and exchanged a glance with Shoko before approaching him.

“Hey, Nanami!” Gojo greeted, his tone casual but with an underlying concern. “You’ve been a bit off lately. Everything okay?”

Nanami looked up, masking his emotions with a practiced smile. “Just a lot on my mind. Nothing to worry about.”

Shoko, who had been quietly observing, took a seat beside him. “It’s clear something’s bothering you. You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

Nanami’s smile faltered, and he sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his hidden feelings press heavily on him. “I appreciate your concern. It’s just… some feelings are better left buried.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Feelings, huh? Sounds like there’s more to it than just a heavy workload.”

Nanami hesitated before speaking, his voice low. “I’ve been trying to protect someone from my own shortcomings. It’s not fair for them to be burdened with my past, my complexities.”

Shoko’s eyes softened with understanding. “It sounds like you’re talking about… someone important. Someone who means a lot to you.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze fixed on his tea. “Yes, someone who deserves better than what I can offer. It’s better this way.”

Gojo, always one to push boundaries, leaned forward, his expression serious. “Nanami, it’s okay to feel like love is unattainable. It’s okay to have feelings and to struggle with them. But don’t forget that you’re human too. You deserve happiness, even if it’s complicated. And even if you don’t act on it. Feeling it is not wrong.”

Shoko nodded in agreement, her voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been carrying this burden alone, trying to shield someone else from your own pain. But it’s important to acknowledge your own feelings, to give yourself permission to be vulnerable. Especially for this person.”

Nanami looked between them, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. “But what if my feelings could only cause more harm? What if being honest means jeopardizing their well-being? I know it will.”

Gojo shook his head, a small smile forming. “Sometimes, it’s not about whether your feelings will cause harm. It’s about being true to yourself and giving yourself the chance to experience what you deserve. Love isn’t always straightforward, and it’s not always fair. But it’s part of the human experience. Acted on or not, it’s what it is, isn’t it?”

Shoko reached out, placing a comforting hand on Nanami’s shoulder. “You’ve done so much for others. It’s time to think about yourself too. It’s okay to be vulnerable, to let yourself feel and to hope for something more, even if it feels unattainable.”

Nanami’s gaze softened, and he looked down at his hands, the weight of their words sinking in. “I’ve been so focused on protecting them, on making sure they don’t suffer because of me. I didn’t realize how much I’ve neglected my own needs.”

Gojo smiled, his tone light but encouraging. “We all have our struggles. It’s part of being human. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. You have friends who care about you, who want you to be happy.”

Shoko gave him a reassuring nod. “And it’s okay to take steps towards finding your own happiness, even if it means confronting difficult feelings. Even if you don’t think it will be reality. You deserve a chance to experience love, just as much as anyone else.”

Nanami took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Thank you. It’s good to hear that. I’ve been so focused on the right thing to do that I forgot about what I need.”

Nanami had been immersed in his work that day, focusing on grading papers and preparing for upcoming lectures. He had anticipated a quiet day, free from the usual flurry of students and administrative tasks. It was your day off from school—a rare break for you to focus on your thesis, and he had expected you to be busy with your academic responsibilities.

Yet, as the hours ticked by, Nanami couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He had noticed a subtle change in your demeanor over the past week, an undercurrent of sadness that was difficult to ignore. He had hoped you’d find solace in your time away from school, but now, the thought of you potentially seeking him out was unsettling.

When he heard the knock on his office door, he glanced up with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He wasn’t expecting you to be here today, not when you had so much on your plate. The sound of the knock was soft but persistent, and it made him pause, his thoughts drifting from his work to the possibility of seeing you.

You stood outside his office, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The past week had been particularly rough—filled with long nights and overwhelming emotions. The weight of your feelings for Nanami, combined with the challenge of coming to terms with them, had left you feeling both vulnerable and resolute. You had been wrestling with your emotions, trying to find a way to move forward, but it was proving more difficult than you had anticipated.

The hallway was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound that accompanied your thoughts. You had wrestled with the decision to come here, weighing the need for closure against the fear of complicating things further. Yet, the idea of not expressing your feelings and finding some resolution gnawed at you, making it hard to focus on anything else.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to face the uncertainty head-on. You lifted your hand and knocked again, this time with more resolve. The sound echoed through the hallway, signaling your intent to have a conversation that had been on your mind for days.

Inside the office, Nanami’s thoughts were interrupted by the knock. He stood up, smoothing his jacket, and approached the door. When he opened it, he was met with the sight of you standing there, looking both determined and apprehensive.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm despite the surprise and concern he felt.

You looked up at him, a mix of anxiety and resolve in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I know it’s my day off, but… I needed to talk to you.”

Nanami stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter. “Of course. Come in.”

You entered his office, feeling the comforting, yet intimidating, presence of the space that had been a backdrop to many of your interactions. The room was orderly, with neatly arranged papers and a sense of calm that contrasted with the storm of emotions you were feeling.

As you settled into a chair, Nanami took his place behind his desk, his gaze steady and attentive. “What’s on your mind?”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing against your resolve. “I’ve been struggling with my feelings for you. It’s been difficult to process, and I realized that I need some closure. I thought it might help if I talked to you about it.”

Nanami listened, his expression a mix of empathy and sadness. He had been preparing for this conversation, though not in the way he had hoped. The feelings he had tried so hard to suppress now seemed to rise to the surface, as he saw the vulnerability in your eyes.

“It’s not easy to hear.” Nanami said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s even harder to find the right words. I’ve been trying to navigate this situation carefully, but I realize now that you deserve more than just silence.”

You looked up at him, finding his smile to be tinged with a deep sadness that made your heart ache. Nanami crossed his arms, his gaze meeting yours with a weight of unspoken emotions.

“Most of all, my little one….” he continued, his voice steady but filled with a profound melancholy. “You deserve better than an old, unpassionate man like me.”

The words hung in the air between you, a painful truth that cut through the space. His admission, though gentle, was laced with a somber acknowledgment of the reality that had become so clear. It was as if he was trying to shield you from the hurt of unfulfilled expectations while grappling with his own feelings of inadequacy.

You could see the strain in his eyes, the conflict of wanting to comfort you while also maintaining the boundaries he felt were necessary. It was a moment of raw honesty, one that left you with a deep sense of both empathy and sorrow.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Nanami's words settled between you. His gaze remained steady, but there was an undeniable vulnerability in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that had become apparent.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on you. “I didn’t come here expecting an easy answer, or my feelings to be returned, sensei.” you said softly, trying to steady your voice. “I just needed to express what I’ve been feeling and to understand where we stand.”

Nanami nodded, his expression a mixture of relief and sadness. “I appreciate your courage in coming forward. It’s not easy to confront these feelings, especially when the outcome is uncertain.”

There was a pause as you both took a moment to absorb the gravity of the conversation. Nanami leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk as if trying to ground himself in the face of his emotions.

“I want you to know that my feelings for you are genuine. Even if they're not what should be. But I also understand that the situation we’re in is far from ideal. It’s not just about what I want but what’s best for you. What you need matters more than what I want.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill. “I understand. I really do. It’s just… hard to accept that something so strong and real can’t find a way to work out.”

Nanami’s gaze softened, and he reached out, resting his hand gently on top of yours. The contact was brief but comforting, a silent gesture of support and understanding.

“It’s difficult, and it’s painful. But sometimes, love means making choices that are hard and painful for the sake of someone else’s well–being. Love is letting go, too. And I believe that’s what I need to do now. Because if my love for you is true, then I would let you go. And let you live a life that you deserve, hm?”

You nodded, feeling the sting of his words but also the clarity they brought. “Thank you for being honest with me. I guess I needed to hear this, to understand where we really stand. To…to have closure.”

Nanami offered a sad smile, one that seemed to carry the weight of his own regrets and hopes for you. “I hope you find someone who can truly cherish you for who you are. You deserve someone who can give you the kind of love and support that I might not be able to offer.”

The finality of his words hung in the air, and you could sense the depth of his feelings—both for you and the situation you found yourselves in. As you stood up to leave, you felt a sense of bittersweet closure, a recognition of the reality that had to be faced.

“Take care of yourself, little one.” Nanami said softly as you made your way to the door. ”I hope you'll always be happy."

You offered him a small, grateful smile, a mixture of sadness and appreciation in your eyes. “Thank you, Nanami–sensei. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you stepped out of his office, the weight of the conversation settled heavily on your shoulders. But along with the heaviness, there was also a sense of resolution. You had faced your feelings head-on, and though the outcome wasn’t what you had hoped for, you felt a renewed sense of clarity and a readiness to move forward.

Nanami Kento watched you go, his heart heavy but his mind clear. He hoped, more than anything, that you would find the happiness and love that you deserved, even if it was not with him. He'd have to leave soon. He thinks that it would be better, if he keeps his distance from now on. You do not need him anymore. And that's for the best.

And as the door closed behind you, he allowed himself a moment of reflection, grappling with the bittersweet nature of his own emotions and the hope that, in time, both of you would find a path that led to fulfillment and peace.

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nomazee · 1 year

Note

Silly little thing I thought of

Like like imagine dazai and the reader have been friends for years like the reader knew him since his 15 goofer era... and they got used to eachother sm they usually sleep in eachothers beds n stuff :3

LIKE SOMETHING IS GOING ON BUT THEY STILL HAVE THE FRIENDSHIP LABEL.. 🐺🤞

this concept stuck itself in my head like a tapeworm and it has not escaped me for days IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED i wrote SO MUCH for this omfg i had so much fun writing this thank u for this wonderful idea pairing: dazai x gn reader word count: 2.5k content: fluff, vignette-style writing, friends-to-lovers unspoken label type of thing, soft dazai, domestic fluff without the marriage bit, banter, idiots in love im taking requests!

===

Dazai’s toes are still as frigid at night as they were seven years ago. You, of all people, would be the best person to measure this—not in a weird way, but you two have shared a bed at least once a week since your teenage years. You know all of Dazai’s annoying sleeping habits, including his ones of sleeping without socks and digging his feet into your shins for warmth.

Annoying fucker. You sigh, batting his arm away from its loose hold around your waist. “Get your toes off of me,” you croak out, half-conscious and mind still addled with the remains of your once-deep sleep.

“What toes,” Dazai mutters back, smacking your intervening hand away and returning his arm to its rightful place around you. “I don’t have toes. I got rid of them after puberty, ‘member?”

“I’m gonna kill you.” You won’t, not really, and the threats have lost their edge after all these years, but it’s fun to throw at him when he annoys you like this. “I know all your weaknesses, Osamu. One wrong move and you’ll be missing more than just your toes.”

“I’m cold, dear. Would you really let me freeze like this? So mean.”

You try not to choke up at the nickname. He’s been a fan of those recently, at least in the last year. You think it has something to do with your new places at the Agency. New workplace, new life, and new nicknames, apparently. If you overthink it you might puke on him and fall back asleep.

“Not cruel. We have money now, you know. Go buy yourself socks. Wool, or something. Stupid ass cold ass toes.”

He goes quiet. Even in all these years of knowing him, half-living with him, you can’t tell if it’s a normal lull in the conversation or a calculated pause. It doesn’t unnerve you as much as it used to, but there’s still a cold chill at the nape of your neck that springs up at times like these.

“Why would I do that when I have you?”

Dazai has also been a fan of this recently—strange uncharacteristic moments of tenderness. He peels himself back for you and bares himself raw. The implications make you nauseous. Swathed in the darkness of the night, he can’t see your fingers twitch from where they lay next to your head, away from his sight; or the conflicted expression that crosses your face.

Easing your breath out into a steady, deep rhythm, you pretend to be asleep. It’s not like he can’t tell, but the message is there. Let’s not talk about this until the morning. Let’s just sleep for the night. Let’s keep what we have and not change it for the worse.

At age eighteen, shaken with the death of his friend and haunted by blood stains on his fingers, Dazai defects from the mafia.

He doesn’t take you with him—at least, he doesn’t mean to. He expects to leave quietly, or as quietly as blowing up Chuuya’s car can be. He doesn’t expect you to drag yourself along kicking and screaming.

Dazai doesn’t remember much about specifics, but he knows that one day he was alone in his underground apartment and the next day you were there. The kitchen smelled like melted marshmallows and rice krispies and his dingy counter was covered in sprinkles.

“Hi, Dazai,” you’d greeted conversationally. “I’m making your favorite.”

He doesn’t even like rice krispie treats. Hates them, actually.

In truth, your presence is less the result of you “kicking and screaming” and more like an after-effect of your own quiet stubbornness. Your kicking-and-screaming was done in the passive aggressive way that you cleaned his dishes and made his bed and left big trays of rice krispie treats in his fridge for the next week.

Neither of you talked about Chuuya. It was better for you that way.

On the first night, Dazai remembers you holding him from behind, forehead pressed into the stretch of skin between his neck and shoulder. He’s sensitive there despite being wrapped in his stupid scratchy bandaids. His memories for the rest of the night are overrun by a feeling of want, an itch to feel your fingers on his bare skin, a craving for your hand on his stomach to slide beneath the hem of his shirt and press into the tender skin of his abdomen and keep him warm.

===

“Leave me alone,” you grumble from behind the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m napping.”

“It’s not napping if you’re still awake.”

“I wouldn’t be awake if it wasn’t for your annoying ass.” Rotating your body to face the ceiling from your place on the Agency’s couch, you sigh when your view is blocked by Dazai’s ugly stupid face. He’s smiling in that conniving way that he does when he’s about to do something super annoying. Another sigh escapes you when he leans down close enough for the overgrown ends of his hair to brush against your nose. The puff of air from your verbal discontent makes the strands sway slightly. You try not to think about how mesmerizing he looks when he’s this close, with the light from the window casting a golden sheen on the crown of his head.

Since when did you get this sappy? Must be Dazai rubbing off on you, obviously.

“So tired already! It’s barely noon.”

“You came into work an hour ago. I’ve been here since eight. Try being responsible for a change, might exhaust you just as much.”

“Hmm.” He tilts his head, big stupid shiny brown eyes blinking down at you like he’s observing a specimen. “I think I’m more than responsible enough.”

“Sure,” you relent, turning back around to shove your face into the corner of the couch and block out the incoming light. It’s the truth—you’re exhausted. A persistent weariness permeates your bones from how much you’ve been working these last few weeks. It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault in particular, not even Dazai’s despite how much he slacks on paperwork. But looming threats from enemy organizations hang over everyone’s heads and there’s no shortage of uncertainty in the Agency. It’s been mission after mission for you, and you’re taking every break you can get.

Rustling sounds from above you, but you pay it no mind, busying yourself with nestling all of your body into the crevices of the couch and hopefully turning into a piece of furniture yourself. It might be a more peaceful life, really. The calm is short-lived when you feel fingers tap along your cheek—not in a rousing gesture, but something along the lines of placating.

Dazai squeezes a hand beneath your head and cups the side of your face pressed against the couch, tilting it closer to him before you feel a warm press of lips against your cheek. He lingers. He always does. You can feel the gentle inhales and exhales breeze against your face before he breaks his kiss away. Your cheek is warm for more reasons than one.

“Take care of yourself,” and oh, god, you’ll never get used to this, never get used to how tender and soft he’s become with you, never get used to how this Agency has fostered something like kindness in both of you. Your stomach stirs with something unnamed and if you were braver, you’d blink your eyes open and reach up and grab the sides of his face and pull him down to you.

But you’re not brave, and there’s people still behind you in the office, and you wonder what led Dazai to be soft enough to kiss your face like that in front of everyone. You’re sure they’re watching you both. The Agency is full of gossips, whether they admit it or not.

===

“Dazai,” Ango Sakaguchi grits out from behind the crackling reception of a burner phone. “They were not a part of the plan.”

“You think I don’t know that, Ango?” Dazai replies, tone more playful than aggressive. “I know they’re not a part of the plan. They knew they weren’t part of the plan, too. But it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s just a minor change.”

“A minor change?” Ango’s voice is strained with stress, no doubt pulling out strands of his hair as they speak. “I have to deal with not one, but now two members of the mafia defecting. Do you know how much work this was to begin with?”

The thing is—of course Dazai knows. He knows everything. The minute he found you in his kitchen, his stomach dropped with the uncertainty of the future. Going underground with another person was nothing short of a burden, at least on paper. But, he couldn't find it in himself to think of you like that. Like a burden.

“We’ll figure it out, Ango. If you don’t, then we will.”

A gritty sigh sounds from the other side of the phone call. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Dazai. Don’t screw this up.”

===

“Made you lunch. Since, obviously, you’re not gonna do that for yourself any time soon.”

A closed plastic container is thrown on the counter in front of Dazai. He looks at it, then up at you, eyebrow raised as if he doesn’t have a clue what this could be about. He’s not that stupid, though. You of all people would know that.

“How nice of you! Too bad I’m not hungry.” His lip juts out in a poor imitation of a pout, and he looks ugly with it. So ugly. Ugly enough to make you feel the need to kiss him all over and then slap him. An incredulous huff escapes you.

“I don’t care if you’re hungry. Eat. It has crab in it, see, your favorite.”

“I thought my favorite was rice krispies?”

You freeze. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might remember that, after all this time. You don’t dwell, because that’s the worst thing to do with Osamu Dazai—dwell.

“Don’t act stupid. Just eat it. Even if it’s not the whole thing, at least some of it. It would do you some good.” Getting serious with Dazai is one of the most awkward, unbearable things you could ever do. He has a way of making you feel stupid for worrying about him, with all his roundabout jokes and skills of evasion built up over years. You’ve found that being straightforward is the best way to avoid all those blank moments of silence.

His fingers curl around the plastic lid and pop it open. The container is still warm, having cooked all its contents just half an hour before showing up at Dazai’s apartment with conviction in your eyes. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll have some.”

You bring out a duplicate container with a serving for you, and treat yourself to a juice box from his fridge. You try not to launch into a lecture at the sight of his barren pantry—that’s best done by Kunikida. The both of you eat in silence, sitting across from each other at Dazai’s dusty kitchen island.

He only gets through a few bites before pushing the container away and complaining about how full he is. You know it’s not the truth, but it’s the mixed-up signals that his body sends him. It’s not that he’s full, but his persistent lack of appetite has caused a lot of troubles for him in the past and you don’t doubt that it’ll keep causing troubles in the future, too.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you tell him, dragging him up from his chair despite his whining protests. “I won’t make you shower, but you should probably do that tomorrow, ‘cause your hair’s about to get all greasy and disgusting.”

“So crude.”

“I do my best.”

You let him change on his own, but not before picking out a nice soft set of matching pajamas from deep inside his closet. You grumble a little in annoyance. The set was a birthday gift you got for him a year ago and that asshole pushed it to the back of his wardrobe and never touched it again. What a brat. You throw a pair of fuzzy socks at him to boot.

Once he’s changed into proper sleep clothes, you can tell that the exhaustion is starting to hit him. He sways a little on his feet and his blinks last for a little too long, as if he’s chasing sleep every time his eyes shut. With another begrudging sigh, you set him down on the floor of the bathroom and dollop his toothbrush with fruity kid’s toothpaste—because of course that’s the only toothpaste he owns—and brush his teeth for him.

Dazai dozes off in the middle of it, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up in the most annoying way possible. You try really, really hard to not think about how soft you’ve gotten. You’re an ex-mafia member, past coated with dark stains and entrails and death, all of those dark things. Your blood is just as black as Dazai’s, if not more. And yet, being a part of this stupid Detective Agency with this stupid man has melted you down into something parallel to good.

Don’t dwell. It’ll do you no good.

You use a gentle grip with the toothbrush, ensuring that his delicate gums don’t tear with the force of the bristles. A warm feeling stirs in your chest. It feels like you’ve proven something, like you’ve proven to the world that your coal-stained hands can be gentle, too. You can kill and you can nurture. You tap Dazai awake with a little more care, now.

“Rinse your mouth,” you tell him in a whisper. “Then you can sleep.” And after a pause, you add, “I promise,” because now you’re in the business of making promises to people.

Dazai rinses his mouth, and you wipe off the remaining droplets of water from his face with a paper towel that you leave on the counter for your future self to throw out. You lace your fingers with his as you walk to his bed. Not that he needs any guiding. Of course he doesn’t. It’s just a little extra insurance, you think.

“Stay with me,” he mumbles out the minute you lay him down on the bed. It’s a sentence, and not a question, because he’d rather die than ask you something so vulnerable. He’s doing it again—peeling himself back and baring himself raw for you. Your head swims and your vision blurs with either a migraine or with tears, you can’t tell. But your lips quirk up into a stupid smile and he sees it despite his half-lidded eyes, and he smiles back like the stupid dope that he is.

“Yeah, of course. I’m right here, Osamu. Go to sleep.”

And he does. Of course, not before he feels you cup the opposite side of his face and plant a warm, lingering kiss on the swell of his cheek just as he did for you weeks before. The faint laugh that he lets out before he falls asleep is enough to tell you that he’ll be making fun of you for it in the morning. For now, though, he’s soft and pliant and warm between your hands, and you sleep.

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #osamu x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu fic #bungo stray dogs fic #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x you #dazai osamu #i forgof how to tag hejkp me #openeing up comissions soon... maybne....#this was so fun to write like it lived in my brain for a week and i wrote a little bit every day #i had DAYDREAMS ABOUT THIS CONCEPT BRO LIKE

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mammomlette · 5 months

Text

OBEY ME YOUNGER BROTHERS AS SOULMATE TROPES!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3(WIP rn)]

Includes: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, GN!Reader/MC

Warnings: Spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphies (not explicitly said but obvious foreshadowing for a twist), implied manipulation (Belphies) (not sure if that needs a warning but better safe than sorry)

Notes: I’m still quite new to fanfics and Tumblr, and honestly just writing in my free time in general so constructive criticism is defo encouraged!! Also I won’t lie to you, Satan did seem a tad ooc erm…

SATAN: writing/drawings on hands appear on eachother

* As soon as you turned 18, you noticed small phrases and notes appearing on your right hand

* It started off with small things like “page 562” or “British shorthair.” Just things to keep as a reminder or to be able to search it up later

* However, as time went by, the notes became a bit more… concerning

* Concerning book quotes from old literature, sometimes in other languages, and nefarious plans to prank someone called ‘Lucifer’

* Your soulmate plans to prank the devil himself. Haha. What a great idea.

* You brushed it off for a while, appreciating the occasional cat fact or chapter reminder and just ignoring the angry words about Lucifer.

* Eventually, you began to build up the courage to respond. Small things relating to things your soulmate wrote, like cat doodles (good or bad as your art skill may be) or going over the writing of the reminder when you notice it started to fade

* Not knowing if it was your place to write down your own notes or just not quite having that amount of bravery, you still did those little things to let your soulmate know that hey, you’re there and you’re always reading what they have to say.

* Satan thought he was hallucinating.

* Thousands of years spent just jotting things down to remind himself of things at a later date, frequently on his hand, and suddenly things started to change?

* He had wrote “British shorthair” on his palm in hopes of being able to look it up later, and a few minutes later he looks down to his palm to search it up and sees a… cat?? It’s really not clear. It’s round, with two points on the top of its head… yeah thats a cat.

* He’s become so obsessed he’s hallucinating badly drawn cats, which is probably a cause for concern, so naturally he confides in his brothers about this and is comforted that no he’s not hallucinating, however cats are just randomly appearing on his hand.

* They continue to appear, circles with two triangles, some looking better than others and some with more odd features likes birthday hats or weird outfits

* He finally decided to read up on what could be happening and was quickly met with the term ‘soulmates’

* He had heard of this a long time ago from one of his brothers while he was still young (for a demon) and brushed it off as a fairy tale. Why had his soulmate only started communicating with his just now?

* He moved on eventually and time passed, a new human being introduced to his home and his family.

* It took an embarrassingly long time to realise that his human was also his soulmate, it wasn’t until you were both just chilling in his room and you were doodling something next to some words on your arm that he noticed a cat appearing on his own arm.

* “Look! The cat thing is happening!” He shouted, a lot more emotion out into it that he would’ve liked due to the sheer shock

* You stopped what you were doing and look at his arm, the cat drawing having ceased its being drawn while you stared at the cat, face turning into shock and then seriousness. Because that is the cat that you just drew.

* “Satan.” You said, just staring into his eyes without any expression

* “Yes, MC?” He responded, worried at your monotony. His mouth then gaped open and you showed him your arm, cat half doodled next to the words “page 236, sticky notes needed”

* You both just made dead eye contact for a second before your eyes both began to flick back and forth and your lips slowly started to quiver

* Both of your sweet laughters filled the room, how ironic that such a common book trope would be what flew under Satan’s nose for so long.

ASMODEUS: soulmate telepathy

* Ever since you turned 18, you had been hearing a voice in your head.

* Not necessarily in a concerning way! In the way it happens when you and your soulmate have both turned 18 and can finally communicate.

* At first, you thought that you were hearing things. Things like “Ooo, this would be a great touch to my outfit! ♡” and “Can’t believe my bath wasn’t 3 hours long today…” flooding your mind. Since when were you SO picky about your clothes and hygiene, even when not in the process of dressing or washing? And since when were your baths 3 hours?

* Quickly though, you realised that this voice wasn’t your own. It was a melodic sounding voice that felt like honey and most definitely did not belong to you.

* You had heard from your family growing up and your friends recently that once you had become an adult you would be able to communicate with your soulmate through your thoughts, proof of the bond your souls shared, thoughts intertwining together.

* You found that whenever you were deep in thought and rambling to yourself you’d be met with a “hon, slow down” in your mind or that whenever you were trying to figure out an outfit your soulmate would chime in to offer their expert advice without hesitation

* No hesitation at all, because Asmo had waited his entire life for this.

* Thousands of years of life believing that he had no soulmate, destined to forever be a player

* So long spent reading and gushing over cute romance stories where soulmate meet and finding comfort in romcoms about that very topic, and here he was finally with his own soulmate in his mind

* The way you would thank him for his advice before his mind went quiet from your thoughts again until you later told him how well everything went and the way you would ramble internally to him without even realising you were connected to his mind made his heart flutter, even without your face your voice and soul were beautiful

* One day he had been summoned alongside his brothers to the student council room to welcome the new human exchange student. It was a hassle that could be spent doing something more productive like his skincare or extra time in the bath, but he was still just so excited he had to tell you how excited he was to meet the new human!

* “New human?” You thought, but had no response from your soulmate before you appeared inside of a council room in front of 5 attractive strange men.

* You panicked and were kind of in autopilot mode as a tall man in all red introduced you to your situation and a slightly-less-tall man in black started to introduce you to his brothers

* You still had small responses in your shock, and a certain demon recognised your voice.

* You were immediately snapped out of autopilot when you heard the voice of the second brother you were introduced to, an admitted handsome man with slightly-pink-tinted light brown hair and stunning orangeish eyes said “Oh come now. Really? You should be that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!” And you froze.

* You looked like a deer in headlights to lucifer who was trying to introduce you to a blonde demon, but to Asmo, you looked like the most beautiful creature to ever walk the three realms (asides from himself, naturally) and the only person worthy of him.

* Asmo saw beauty in everyone, but everyone else paled in comparison to your face in this moment and your voice every other previous time he had heard it.

* He looked at you with knowing eyes and your eyes finally softened from your shocked face, finally understanding what he meant earlier by “new human”

* It would take time for you to get used to being in a new world with a demon as your soulmate, it would take time for him to get used to loving someone more intimately than as lust, but you both had eachother and the bond that ties your minds together and that’s all you needed.

BEELZEBUB: you share (some of) your soulmate’s pain

* It was growing unbearable.

* The slight yet constant ache in your stomach, a pit that was never quite full.

* For years you mistook it for your own hunger, not sure if you should be eating more or not

* It was always there, always something that disctracted you whenever you were left alone in silence or trying to sleep at night, always waiting for you to finish a meal just to make you feel that familiar ache again.

* It was just insufferable.

* It wasn’t just the hunger, though. There would be times where your muscles would ache like you had been working out without a proper cool down or your arms felt like they had bruised from defending or blocking against something

* You inquired with your friends about this and were just told that it would be your soulmate. You shared pain with your soulmate, and your soulmate always seemed in pain

* It wasn’t a pain that came from attacks or falling, just a pit that always felt so empty it hurt but could never be filled.

* Was your soulmate starving to death? You wished there was a way to help them, to soothe the pain, but without knowing who they are there was no way to fix it.

* As of present, you had been sent into the devildom a few weeks ago and had began to slowly feel adjusted to the devildom and your roommates and you had grown fond of one in particular: Beelzebub, the avatar of gluttony.

* You sympathised with him and his constant hunger since you yourself always felt a small bit of this hunger, even if you’d learnt by now that it wasn’t yours to fix

* So naturally, you hung a round him more

* You spent time with him whenever you could just because you wanted to, accompanying him to the gym or treating him to Hell’s Kitchen or even just sitting with him when he was lonely and missing his brother who had gone to the human world

* And it felt like every time you gave him the food you were craving so much, that pit in your stomach was filled just a bit

* Always there, never going away, but it felt just that bit more bearable and ignorable for a short while

* Who knew you were such an empath?

* Of course it crossed your mind of that Beel could be your soulmate, but what are the chances? You dismissed the thought whenever it appeared, not wanting to get your hopes up

* However, your hopes were validated one night in the kitchen with Beel.

* You were preparing him a small snack, just cutting up some devildom-style bread for him when you accidentally put your finger down at the wrong time in the wrong place and cut it

* You hissed at the pain, putting down the knife to look at your finger and you thought you heard Beel grunt.

* “MC, are you okay?” He inquired, approaching you to look at your finger while slightly cradling his own for some reason

* “Uh, yeah, I just need a plaster or something, would you mind..?” “Yeah, of course.” He continued to clutch his finger while reaching for the cabinet, letting go for a second to open it and grab you a plaster

* “Are you okay? You’re holding your finger too.” You were slightly worried by his mannerisms even though you didn’t see a cut on his fingers.

* “Yeah, my finger just hurt all of a sudden. It’s fine though. Here, I’ll put the plaster on for you.”

* You fell into comfortable silence as he opened the plaster and began pressing in down, but he pressed down a bit too hard which hurt you, causing both of you to hiss.

* “Seriously Beel, are you okay?” He nodded. “Yeah, it’s just like whenever you get hurt my finger hurts too.”

* Lightbulb. You realised finally that those slight considerations were valid and the connection you felt with Beel was real. The hunger you felt wasn’t yours and the reason it was numbed when you gave him food is because it was his.

* He seemed to have realised this too, because he paused and looked at you, slowly smiling.

* “MC, I just realised something. I think that-“ you cut him off with a kiss, smiling now too.

BELPHEGOR: you have a countdown until your soulmate’s death

* Surely there was an error in the system.

* Call you crazy but you didn’t quite think that 378,691,205,018 seconds is applicable to the human life span.

* You had come to the conclusion that your soulmate was either non-existent and the universe was fucking with you or they were some kind of non human entity and obviously both of these answers were stupid but at least the former was possible.

* You’d grown accepting overtime that you didn’t have a soulmate unlike how most of your friends did and that you’d never have that sort of unconditional love

* Not having a soulmate wasn’t unheard of, just uncommon.

* And you got the short end of the stick. That’s all there was to it.

* UNTIL you got randomly abducted one day into literal hell where pretty much all beings there loved for thousands of years.

* ‘Maybe I have a chance now?’ You crossed the thought out from your mind. First of all, these were demons and most of them had made attempts on your life at some point or another, and secondly almost all of them either a) didn’t have a timer, which meant no soulmate, b) had an insanely high timer that you’d never be able to reach or c) had already found their soulmate

* You sighed to yourself and began to lose hope again, walking up the stairs to the attic

* A short while ago, you had found a human locked in the attic, who had asked you to help him. You clicked, something in that moment just felt like it had been put in place like the final puzzle piece so you trusted him without really knowing why

* But you had even more recently found out from his brother that he was bulshitting you and that he was probably the demon Belphegor, so now you just wanted to figure out what was going on

* You continued to march up the stairs and finally arrived at the attic to confront him or at least question him

* “Are you Belphegor?” You cut to the chase not wanting to bother with any more of his lies.

* He was silent for a second before grinning, devilish look that you’d expect from the decent ruler or the underworld gleaming in his eyes as he said “Aww, so you’ve already figured me out, have you? Well, you’re no fun at all.”

* You glared, and tried to decide whether declaring he was a liar or asking why he was a liar would be a better idea

* But he spoke up again before you could decide.

* “That timer on your neck, what does it say?”

* You paused, not knowing the exact number. “Um, like, there’s hundred billion seconds-ish? Why?”

* “Because I’m a demon. I’m going to live long enough to fulfil that. Look at my timer, here. It has 13,140,014 seconds. No demon would live that short.”

* “And is thirteen million a lot of time?”

* “About a human lifespan, bit under.”

* You hummed. It made sense to you looking at it at the moment, though you could’ve sworn it was a little bit under your guess, you trusted him.

* Why? He lied to you about being a human, so why do you trust him?

* Because he’s your soulmate. There’s no doubt in your mind. The click, the need to trust him, even seeing him in your dreams. It was right.

* So you believed him, and didn’t give the thirteen million seconds much question. You were going to save him, save your soulmate.

* Because thirteen million seems like a long time, and I guess it was long enough for you to save him. Just not enough to do much more.

313 notes · View notes

astraystayyh · 1 year

Text

Bittersweet

Pairing : Bang Chan x reader, exes to lovers.

Summary : You broke up with Chan because of an once in a lifetime work opportunity. Four years later, you are back home and everything has changed.

Warnings : Some cursing, reader has a big fear of thunder, allusion to sex in the end but no smut.

A.N: I wrote this as part two of Beginning of the End, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Still, i HIGHLY recommend reading part 1 first, it will just be more impactful!! Please let me know if you enjoyed reading, it means a lot to me <333

(Part 1)

-------------

Four years later, you were back to where it all started.

It felt weird to return home after all this time; to stroll down the alleys you once memorized, to meet up with the friends you once couldn’t live without. To witness firsthand how small your existence is, in the sense that you were so attached to your city, yet it had moved on perfectly despite your absence.

Still, you couldn’t really blame the world for moving on because you changed a lot too.

You had grown happier and more secure in yourself. Your work was recognized and praised, and you made some unforgettable memories that wouldn't have been possible had you not left. You felt as if everything you fought hard for finally paid off.

But throughout the years, one thing did remain the same; your love for Chan. You never tried to forget him or make your feelings go away. You figured that loving him was like the skin that clung to your bones, an inseparable part of your being.

Still, you were human after all, and as the months passed, you began to forget the sound of his voice and the warmth of his body against yours. His giggles became a distant memory in your mind, and so did the feel of his hands on your skin. Loving Chan became like a photograph that you safely tucked away; it chipped at the edges and its colors faded, but it still lived on, just like your love for him did.

And now that you were finally back with a bigger promotion, you couldn’t help but think about Chan even more. Everywhere you went, you saw snippets of your past with him.

You were so young, so foolish, you realized.

But so utterly in love.

----------------

It was 11 pm, and you were suddenly craving ice cream. You knew it was a bit ridiculous because it was -3 degrees, and you were already freezing, but you had one fundamental rule in life: never say no to your heart's desires.

This is why, despite the cold, you quickly leave your new apartment and skip toward the convenience store near you.

You head inside and grab your favorite ice cream before strolling around in case something else caught your attention. You just loved the calm inside and wanted to bask in it a bit more.

You round the milk aisle and suddenly bumped into someone’s chest. You were about to apologize when the words got stuck in your throat.

Chan.

"Yn…?" he calls out, and you feel yourself grow weak in the knees.

There was something about the way your name rolled off the tip of his tongue that made you feel as if no one, besides him, had ever done it justice.

He was even more beautiful than when you last saw him four years ago. His brown curly hair was tousled and his warm eyes reminded you of galaxies. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest because you couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe it was him.

Memories of your last time together came crashing down on you like a wave; how he hugged you and told you to pretend as if nothing was happening, how he wrote you the most heart-wrenching letter that you’ve since memorized by heart.

"How are you?" you ask, clearing your throat. It felt silly to ask such mundane questions. This wasn't what you wanted to know. You wanted to ask if he still hated the taste of alcohol, if he still cried during sad movies, if he still squealed when he laughed, if he still loved you as you loved him.

But you couldn't voice those thoughts, so you willed yourself to drown them in the storm that is your mind.

"I'm good, and you?" he replies, smiling a little. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"I'm great."

"You look like it," he says, and you meekly nod, "So do you."

"Are you... visiting?" he asks after a few silent beats, and you shake your head, "I'm back for good."

"That's great. It's nice seeing you again," he gives you a genuine smile this time, and you can't help but grin back. You missed him.

You both stare at each other for a while after that, taking each other in. Looking at him felt like looking at a mirror of your past self -you could clearly see yourself in him because he once was a part of you, just like you were a part of him.

"I'll... I'll get going," he points behind him, retracting back, and before you could think it through, you grab his wrist to stop him.

It wasn't butterflies you felt when you touched him, that would be an understatement, it was pure electricity shooting through you.

People had touched you while you were away - hugs, kisses, and intimate caresses - but none of them made you feel this way. You were like a prisoner who had just felt the sun's rays against their skin for the first time in years. And you were starving for that sunlight.

"Can we meet up? Catch up? If you want to, of course," you whisper. Your voice is quiet- a stark contrast to the chaos going on in your mind.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'd like that," he agrees, rubbing the spot where you had grabbed him. Did he feel the sparks too?

"Tomorrow, this time, in the park near our old apartment?" you suggest, and he nods, "Sure. I'll be there."

"Great. I'll wait for you."

----------

You are sitting on a swing, swaying back and forth gently. Your heart is beating erratically in your chest, and you bite your nails from how stressed you are. In the four years you were away, you had to give conferences in front of thousands and thousands of people, yet you weren't as nervous as you are now.

"You still do that?" a voice next to you reprimands and you turn around to find Chan.

"Old habits never die, I guess," you smile sheepishly, dropping your hand down, and he chuckles.

"How are you?" you ask again, and he shrugs, "I'm good."

"How are you, really?"

"I don't think you have the right to ask me that anymore." His words cut you deep, and you swallow forcefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't mean to pry."

"I know, fuck, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's okay," you reassure, looking up at the starry sky. He was right after all.

"Haven't been stargazing for a while," he whispers, and you smile sadly. That was one of your favorite activities together.

"Me too. But I love looking at the stars," you reply.

"I know. They remind you of how small you are in the grand scheme of things," he says nonchalantly as if he didn’t just knock the breath out of you. He remembered.

"Yeah, like how I've been away for four years, and everything moved on as if I've never been here."

"Your absence was felt, yn”, he pauses, “I used to miss you." Used to. Past tense.

"I still miss you." Your reply is instant; you don't feel the need to hide from him. You never did.

Chan holds your gaze for a while, and you wonder what he was thinking at that moment. You wanted to shout at him to tell you what was on his mind. To just say it. But you couldn't. You can no longer ask things from him; you knew that.

"I saw your name in news articles and TV shows. You had your big breakthrough," he suddenly smiles at you, changing the subject. You feel a blush creep up your neck; the fact that he kept up with you made you feel shy all of a sudden.

"I guess I did, I grew a lot. I... I think that I needed to get away and experience new things. It would have haunted me had I not," you smile, and he nods attentively. He still listened to you intently, as always.

"You were always destined for great things," he says seriously, and you feel your eyes well up with tears.

He spoke those words as if he wholeheartedly believed them, and nothing in the world could ever sway his mind.

"So are you. You've been doing amazing these past few years, getting all these awards and deals. I love your music," you gush, and he waves a hand in the air as if to dismiss your words.

"Don't do that," you chastise, "you should be proud of yourself. I know I am very proud of you."

"I suppose the years did us good," he sighs wistfully, and you hum in agreement. You are both quiet after that. You don’t dare to speak, afraid that your next words would break the bubble you are in. As selfish as it was, you didn’t want to face reality yet.

"Just say what’s on your mind," he suddenly speaks up, and you raise a brow at him inquisitively.

“You are scratching your throat as if to stop the words from coming out. Just tell me.” Chan, ever the perceptive.

You take in a deep breath, willing your voice to sound strong, "The only thing I regret is that... I had to lose you in the process. I know I'll never find someone as amazing as you."

Chan doesn’t reply and your words linger in the air, suffocating you. You hoped that a strong wind will come by and carry them away, somewhere they wouldn't hurt anymore.

"I did love you, yn." A pause, and you can feel a heartbreaking ‘but’ coming. "But I don't anymore. I found... I found someone else. They are good to me and I love them."

"Oh". You dreaded it, expected it even, you never wanted him to wait for you. Because you left, so he had every right to move on. Still, you were only human, an enamored human whose heart now broke in two.

You feel the bile rise in your throat and you shake your head as if to clear those stupid thoughts away. You left, for god’s sake, you weren’t allowed to feel this way. But still, it hurt, it hurt so bad all you wanted to do was to curl in a ball and weep.

"I hope that you are happy with them. That's all I ever wanted for you, happiness." Your voice wavers and he knows, Chan must know you are trying so hard not to break down. So he doesn’t comment, he only smiles at you, which makes your heart break even more, because he must smile at them like this all the time now.

"I will get going," you abruptly stand up, dusting your pants. "Let me walk you home," he offers and you shake your head no.

"It's nearly midnight, you are out of your mind if you think I'll let you walk alone."

"Okay," you simply reply. Truth is, you weren’t processing what he was saying anymore. 'I love them' kept repeating itself in your head like a broken mantra. He found someone else. He found someone else. He found someone else, and it isn’t you.

"This is me", you clear your throat when you arrive in front of your apartment, and Chan stops in his tracks.

“Come here”, he says and it’s all it takes for you to bury yourself in him. Just like four years ago, he was leaving you with a goodbye hug. Only this time, there was no hope left. Only a sense of finality. He knows that you still love him, you couldn't hide that from him. But he doesn't love you anymore and he can't hide that from you.

The hug only lasted a mere ten seconds, but you tried your best to take it all in, to memorize how it felt for Chan to hug you again. You desperately needed to patch up the broken memories you had left of him.

You finally lean away, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your shirt. Chan’s brows furrow looking at you, and you smile reassuringly. "I'm okay really. This is just bittersweet to me."

"It is to me too," he whispers and you nod, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from breaking down.

"You stay safe for me, yeah?" he tells you softly and you nod again, "you too."

"Goodbye, yn."

"Goodbye, Chan," and with that you turn around, entering your apartment block.

You've never hated goodbyes more than in that instant.

------------

it's been 3 months since your talk with Chan. Admittedly, you've gone back to that convenience store where you've met him, for a month straight, just in case he went back there. He didn't. And now you had a large stock of snacks you didn't know what to do with.

After that, you went to all the places where you've gone to on your dates. You don't know what you were expecting. You've lost Chan, but still, you always found yourself back to where you shared memories with him. But he wasn't there.

In the third month, you've started accepting that you lost him for good. The love mingled with the ache and you found comfort in its everlasting presence. It served as a reminder that you did love him, and he did love you back at some point.

Thankfully, your work was going really well, and tonight, you were out with your superior to celebrate a successful deal you chaperoned and discuss some upcoming projects.

You enter the restaurant, your boss hot on your tracks, when you abruptly stop. Sat on a table right across from you is Chan with a girl you did not recognize. You would have bolted out had it not been for your boss who looked at you with worried eyes. You shake your head mouthing an "I'm fine" to him.

While your boss placed your order, you couldn’t help but stare at Chan. He looked so... happy with her. She said something and he laughed, tipping his head back. You felt jealousy gnaw at your heart because you were the one who used to make him laugh like that.

You left, you remind yourself, you are the one who left.

Against your own will, you look up at Chan once again, only this time he was looking at you too. You hold his gaze as if under a spell, and when the girl next to him touches his hand softly to bring him to her, you almost sob right there and then.

"... our partners will come from France and you will have to hold a meeting with them tomorrow."

"Sure. I already prepared the slides and sent them over to your mail," you nod. Work, forget about Chan, work.

"I will check them out. You'll have Clara with you?"

"Yes, she's the only one who can speak French besides me. I have been overlooking her for this past month and she's really competent."

"Should I challenge her?"

"Yeah, I think she's up to the task", you smile and he nods, satisfied.

You try to eat your dinner after that, keeping up with your boss’s chatter. But it felt like a punishment- sitting there when the man you still loved was on a date right across from you.

And as if your night couldn’t get any worse, you hear thunder rumble loudly. You clench your glass so tightly in your hand- you are surprised it didn’t break.

You had a really really big fear of thunder. It stemmed from when you were a child, playing hide and seek when a thunderstorm happened. You ended up being stuck in the closet for an hour because your cousins forgot about you, and you fainted from how afraid you were.

You look up at your boss apologetically, you couldn't tell him you had to leave because of a childhood phobia, so you quickly try to muster up an excuse. "I'm sorry to cut it short but can I go? I have a- a dentist appointment and I need to wake up very early tomorrow."

"Sure. I'll see you at work?". You have never been more grateful for his understanding.

"Yeah, thank you for dinner".

You quickly grab your things, leaving the restaurant. You hop in your car but you are shaking so badly, you can't even start the engine. Another thunder resounds and you drop your keys, forcefully shutting your eyes. You try to drown out the sound with your hands clasped on your ears but it didn’t help. It was too much- the pain, the fear, the ache. You needed everything around you to stop.

You hear the door next to you suddenly open and you snap your eyes toward it, to find a disheveled Chan standing there. He pulls you out of your seat, instantly bringing you to his body.

He knows how scared you are of thunder.

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm here. You're safe," he pats your head gently and you hug him tighter to you; as if he was your only mean of survival.

He tries to peel away but you only hold him closer, to which he rubs soothing circles on your back, “I’m not going anywhere, let me drive you home, okay?”

You nod against his chest and he lets go of you, holding your hand instead. He opens the passenger door for you then he quickly hops into the driver’s seat. He starts off your car, blasting the music so loud you no longer hear the thunder booming.

Your hand is still tightly clasped in his when you arrive home.

He silently opens the door for you once more, and you lead him to your apartment. You were mortified he had to leave the restaurant for you, but you were so grateful for him, because at the end of the day, he came to you.

Chan awkwardly stands in your living room and you figure the least you could do is apologize. "I’m sorry I cut your date short."

"You sound jealous", he points out.

"I am jealous, but mostly sorry."

"You shouldn't date someone who won't be with you in times like these," he dismisses your words, and you frown. Why did he sound angry all of the sudden?

"He didn't know."

"Still, he should have seen the signs. I was across the room but I saw you shaking for god's sake!” he almost shouts and you take a step toward him.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't," he is lying.

"Why does it bother you?” you insist. You needed to know.

"I said it doesn’t yn," he enunciates but you don’t back off.

“He’s my boss that’s why I was alone, but why? Why does it matter to you?"

"Because I fucking lied", he shouts, inching closer to you. "Because I lied yn, I never found someone else, it was you, it was always you."

"What... but the girl?".

"She's my coworker yn. I tried to forget you. I tried but you were always there. You were everywhere. And I had to carry on with the love I had for you but I didn't know where to put it anymore. Because you didn't tell me, you didn't tell me where the love was supposed to go now that you left!"

You stare at him unblinking, afraid that this was all just a figment of your imagination.

"And then... and then you came back and it was as if no time has gone by. It was as if you'd never left and I wanted to kiss you and hug you and I wanted you back. I needed you back", his hands are on your shoulders now, grasping you tightly as if to convince himself that you were here.

"But I couldn't, I couldn't allow you in because what if you left again? I wouldn't survive that, yn," his voice cracks at your name and it’s all it takes for you to bring his lips crashing down on yours.

You stagger back, your fingers grazing your lips in shock, "I'm so sorry, I didn't-", your words are cut off by his mouth on yours once again, "don't stop", he whispers and you kiss him, again and again. Your mouths moving in sync to the symphony that is your love.

When you finally pull away, he places his forehead on yours and you close your eyes. "Tell me this is real, that you're back to me."

"I'm here."

"You still feel like a dream."

"I'm here, I'm here", you reassure, your hand gently cradling his cheek, "I never stopped loving you Chan. I knew I was destined to love you, whether you loved me back or not."

"You are my soulmate", he leans back, kissing your forehead softly, "you and I are one."

"I've got a tattoo of your handwriting", you confess softly and his eyes snap open.

"What?"

"I tattooed a sentence from the letter you left me, with your handwriting, 'Our love will remain'."

"Where?"

"Here", you trace the outline of your breast and he chokes, "somewhere only I can see it."

"You are crazy", he chuckles, a bewildered smile on his face.

"In love, yes," you giggle and he blushes, hiding his head in your neck.

“Can I see you tomorrow? We have a lot to talk about," he asks, peppering the curve of your neck with kisses.

"Sure, I'm all yours after 5 pm."

"Works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow?", he smiles, and you beam at him, "I’ll see you."

Chan doesn't let you go and you laugh, kissing his cheek, "you are not leaving?"

"I'm not", he smiles cheekily.

"And why is that?"

"Because....", he drawls out, his lips brushing against your collarbone, "I need to see that tattoo."

----------

A lover’s body is like a land you discover over and over again. And tonight, as Chan made love to you, you drank it all in- the flexing of his muscles and the new sounds he made. But despite those changes, you found out that you never forgot the secret passages to his body, and the ways only you can make him unfold.

Still, it wasn’t when his naked body hovered over yours that you felt bare in front of him. It was when you both laid next to each other, talking in bed until the sun rose, that he undressed your mind.

It is there, behind those walls that you both built, that Chan and yn from four years ago lived on.

And you were still as in love.

1K notes · View notes

paranormalworm · 7 months

Note

Hi idk if you’re taking request. But if you are, can you do a Sturniolo x sis!reader where they go with Sam and Colby to the hotel. And Sam or Colby follows her YouTube channel and has a massive crush on her and she does to. Basically just them sharing shy and cute moments before a confession when one of them get really scared/ maybe one of the ghost keep messing with reader. The triplets ship with whichever boy you choose. If it’s not asking too much, this would be awesome.

AUTHOR NOTES: Hey anon!! Yes i do take requests and i'm so glad you asked. I hope it’ll be good, just know that English is not my first language. (I also changed some details from the video so it’s more interesting) <3

I actually don’t really like what i wrote but the request was so funny i wanted to try.it is actually really different from what i usually write so i hope it's not bad. (I also gave a name to the O/C because i usually do)

𝐶𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑡 • 𝐶.𝐵.

SUMMARY: You're the triplets sister (a year younger)you have your own ytb channel but you are also on the boys videos so when Sam and Colby invinted them for a Collab they also asked if you wanted to be there as well.

PAIRING: Colby Brock X Fem reader

WARNING: ghosts,haunted location,paranormal stuff happening to you, named O/C and bad words?

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ

It is finally the day. 2 months ago Sam and Colby dmed The triplets to do the collab the fans been waiting for. And since Nick and I are obsesed with their videos he asked them if I could be there and Colby almost immediatly answerd saying that when they asked them for the collab i was obviously in the deal. I actually think the boys got more excited about the message than me since they know I got a crush on Colby.

Nick: "Ana! wear emo clothes, Colby is emo he would love it. " I laugh at is comment but ignore him, I really hope none of them will make comments like that tonight or it will be so embarrassing.

We just arrived at the hotel and we were welcomed by Sam and Colby who were both waiting for us, We walk to them and as i was talking with Matt he cuts me mid-sentence to say that Colby was starring at me, a comment that I couldn't answer to because of them standing in front of us. the boys shakes each others hand while I kinda stand there awardly.

Matt: "Ana say hello they don't bite. "

Colby. "Unless you ask, I actually don't. " We all laugh at his comment as i quickly apologize and walk to Sam and hug him quickly, i then do the same with Colby awkwardly. We all talk for a bit and they explain how they are organizing the night.

—————————

"What's up guys its Sam and Colby"

"today is finally the day, the Collab with the Sturniolo is here".

They turn the cam to us and try to figure out and explain who is who. And that’s when i step in to try to explain myself.

"its simple, Nick is the one with the nose piercing and the while shirts, Chris is the one with the hat on, and Matt is the other one. "

Matt looks at me acting chocked that I have nothing more to say about him and Colby turned the camera to me when I started talking and followed my explanation with the boys. Showing each boy once there name were pronounced.

Sam: "it's simple for you they're you're brother! " Chris then walked to me and huged me like a baby like he always does. "don't talk to my baby like that young man.” he said trying to acts serious when was actually laughing. And Matt started to argue playfully with him "Chris stop that how do you want her to get a boyfriend if you act like a crazy possessive older brother

we all laugh at their little argument and the tour guide starts the explanation, she explains that the most active spirit is at years old little girl named Samantha and she actually tickle people or just touch them. Funny, a little girl again, sam just have a thing with little girls, not in the weird way the

"Sam is leaving this place with a Brand new little girl in his ass.” I said laughing along with them as Matt and Chris were looking at me weirdly with a eyebrow raised sam points then the camera to me. Sam: "huge fan of the channel aren't you?” He was smirking like a creep but i just buster out laughing at his face.

"She's obsesed with your vids man. "And here it goes Nick started to say crazy things like that and now it's embarassing. I naturally turn my head to Colby to see what his face was letting out and he was already looking at me with a slight smile. Tour guide: "Ana you may stop laughing after knowing that Samantha is mostly active with woman so you may experience more things than them." my eyes opens widely and i actually starts to get scared. Colby seems to notice it because he puts his arm around my shoulder and ask, "but no evil spirit here right? "

"none of them are evil no. Samantha is playful but in the Maximillian room there is Empress Carlota and she may get jealous because she'll think you went in the room to seduce and steal her husband". Everyone look to me while I don't know what to say. We are now in front of a painting of a little girl, the painting actually looks greenish but I don't even have the time to ask why because the tour guide talks about it first explaining that they keep getting it cleaned it just go back to green every time.

While the tour guide talks about the story of Samantha i keep feeling like people are watching us so I turn around every few minutes and its when I turn back to the guide that footsteps are heard behind us, like someone is running around. We are all freaked out and suddenly I feel like someone is tugging my sleeve.

"Matt stop that right now this is not funny at all” he looks at me like I'm crazy and i explain what just happened. Colby who was standing next to me puts an arm around my shoulder and pull me closer to him “i'm here don’t worry”.

We finally finished the tour and even the tour by itself was scary. We are starting the investigation by the maximillion room with all of the mirrors. And also the room where i apparently might get targeted.

"Okay guys so we are back in the maximillian room,” Colby starts his intro while Sam is holding the camera and my brothers and i are standing next to him. "This room is apparently haunted by Empress Carlota who lost her husband but also get very jealous of woman that enters this room because she's scared they want to steal her husband.” I smile at the camera to not seem mean and laugh a little when Matt starts saying that it is a good thing that they have a sister.

We then starts the investigation by standing in front of a mirror and we are just supposed to stare at ourselves for a few minutes nothings happens but later i see my face getting sad? like i was about to cry. I don't know if i can talk while doing this so i don't say anything and keep looking. after a few more seconds it's like some tears are rolling down my cheeks. And that's when a woman appears looking angry she watch me from a far before walking slowly to me appearing angrier with each step.

When she only some inches "behind me" i close my eyes and face away from the mirror. Nick who was standing next to me with Sam immediatly turn his head to me "Ana is everything alright? What did you see? "Nick ask as he hug me "I'm fine it surprised me” i say leaving his arms and walking to a bench. They all sit with me either on the bench or on the floor. Sam ask if he can record while i explain what i saw, i accept so i starts explaining everything.

Once i explained everything they all seem surprised but also worried I'll be okay after our little pause Sam and Colby install a rope who has multiple led on it while i continue to talk with my brothers.

Colby POV:

I knew something would happen and I couldn't even be near to reassure her. The tug in front of the painting and now that? I'm starting to get scared for the rest of thenight. We're installing the light rope and we are gonna use the ovulus which is super scary with what just happened

...

(Ana's POV)

they just finished explaining what we are about to do and it scares me a little knowing the person i saw in the mirror might be here and talk to us. As soon as Sam turned the ovulus on we heard a word. Which apparently is pretty rare to work this fast.

girl.

"What about girls? "asked Colby. "the fact that Carlota is just jealous of you when i could try to seduce her husband to.” We all look at Nick before laughing at his comment.

must..... leave.

"Who must leave? " Matt asked. “Me. It said girls and then must leave. "

"No, you're not going anywhere. They are not the one in charge here” we all turned our heads to Colby when he started to talk. We were all surprised by how annoyed he looked.

dating

it's when a new word appeared that we stopped staring at him. "What are they talking about? "Sam looked at Chris who just said the comment. "Christopher are you stupid? Theythinks Ana and Colby are dating.” I look at Nick amused While he is arguing with Chris. I was about to deny their statement when Colby talked "Yes we are.” Colby said pulling me closer to him. I turn my head to him confused. We're not dating? Why did he said yes? My brothers looks at me even more surprised that I was after that the ovulus didn't spelled any more words and the light rope didn't lighted up at all.

We decided to leave the room after 30 min of asking question and not receiving any answers. During those 30 min Colby acted like he was my boyfriend

while I was kind of lost. Once the door was closed behind us i let go of his hand

that was holding mine. "Why did you said that you guys were dating? "asked his best friends with a smirk we could all see. I obviously to the concerned one to listen to his answer. "I thought that Carlota or whatever her name is, she won't do anything to Ana since she was in a "relationship"». He replied naturally by mimicking inverted commas with his fingers. I smiled to thank him.

We then walked back too the room where we went earlier when it smelled terrible. On the way there I was walking with Nick and Matt who mere joking about how kind Colby was to me. Once all the camera were installed they pressed the rec button and started filming. We are going to do the famous Estes method.

it is actually something that look easy beet in reality is pretty hard because you have to concentrate a lot on what you ear in the headphone and trust the peoples in the room with you. Nick and Chris wanted to starts and since Matt and I wanted to do it to we are going to do Ir right after but in the bathroom since it is actually pretty active.

Nick and Chris are now sat on a couch blind folded with headphones on and a spirit box each in there hand «hi» said Chris and Nick almost talk at the same time saying «hello» we greeted whoever was there and before we could ask for a name Chris said «gorgeous».

So Matt who was sat next to me asked «who is gorgeous?» and Nick answered «the girl» Sam, Colby and Matt turned there head to me waiting to see what would say «well thank you very much, who are we talking to right now?» the two bestfriends turned back there camera to the two siblings at the right time because they answer almost at the same time «its not important» and «you don't need to know»

This answer confused all of us how many person are in the room beside the 6 of us right now?» asked the tall emo looking guy. Nick answered «3» before Chris talked saying «mine» we were even more confused sosam asked « what do you mean mine? What is yours?» Nick then said « I heard like it growled? Like when you are annoyed? » all the boys looked at each others while I couldn't take me eyes of my brothers waiting for an answer.

«It said "she's mine” in a fucking deep voice it scared the shit out of me » I wanted to laugh but was still confused by who it was talking about. «Maybe it's Carlotta since you guys kept complimenting her earlier? Maybe it's her husband? » I said trying to explain what was happening.« can you confirm that? Are you talking about empires carlota?» asked the blond ghost hunter.

Nick quickly take the headphones off and slowly get rid of the blindfold. «What's wrong Nick?» Matt ask worried. «I heard like a malefic laugh freaking psychotic laugh » we all frown confused and Chris not knowing what just happened continue «no, not carlota...» Chris then freeze and don't continue the sentence he just started,he also take off the blind fold and the headphones and just stares at me almost like he is scared, he then look at everyone «it said "Ana, silly." like not Carlotta , Ana »

We were all getting scared so we decided to take a little pause outside. I was talking with Sam and wick a little afar from the rest of the group talking about life and our respective Chanel « Colby actually love what you post on social media,he always ask if saw your last post» he said laughing, Nick looked at me with big eyes before speaking «Ana and I are obsessed with your channel that we even made up a rule that we cannot watch the newest video without each other.obviously Ana is the one that came up with that rule ».

I slapped his chest my hand laughing « don't act so annoyed with this rule because the only timed broke that rule I had to do your chores for an entire week.»

I walk to the other little group and as i was walking away i heard nick asking « is he in love with her by any chance? » this is so embarrassing.

After 20 min of talking to take a little break we went back in the hotel room and Sam and Colby started to record again and explained to the viewers that Matt and I are going to do the Estes method in the bathroom. Matt sits on the toilets while i sits on a chair we took from the bedroom. Nick and Chris are sitting on the floor Sam is standing in front of us and Colby is standing behind me in the shower.

Matt and I put the blindfold and the headphones on. The static sound in my ears is slowly getting louder as I concentrate on what could hear.

Colby POV:

Matt and Ana are listening to the spirit box and it's time to ask some questions «Matt , Ana can you hear us?» I ask and none of them answer. « behind her» Matt says. They are all confused while I am scared it the same spirit from the bedroom who was being weird. « behind who?» asked my best friend behind the camera. « it said my name guys» Ana, who looks terrified that it said her name again.

« I thinks it's the same person from the bedroom » said one of her older brother, Ana's leg was shaking from the stress but she quickly stoped and putted her own hand on her knee smiling. «are you talking about Colby? The person behind Ana » Nick asked and almost immediately the two sibling answered « yeah.» everyone looked at me. « what about me?» I asked. I'm sure it is the same spirit from earlier. «You're not welcomed here » and «leave» came out of their mouth

« hell no. I'm not going any where. Why should I leave?» I was getting annoyed as time went by. I knew why they wanted me away it's simply because they could get to Ana way easier. And as we thought no one answered that question. After a few seconds of silence Chris came out with a great question. « why are you still here?» we looked at the two sibling waiting for an answer. « are you stuck here or can you go to multiple places?» we wait again for an answer and Ana is the one breaking the silence « great here».

«So you stay here because you like it here?» I asked « maybe they stay here because they like it but could go anywhere if they wanted to?» Sam said and after a few seconds Matt started giggling « it said "you got it blond boy" in a very happy way, almost celebrating ». We all laughed a bit but we stopped when Ana started to rub her arm like crazy like she was freezing we were all getting concerned «I'm in love.» Ana said. « who are you in love with?» I asked. « it keep saying Ana's name like "ana.ana.ana.ana" it's getting weird » Matt is right it is really getting weird « Colby could you not press yourself on my shoulder like that please».

We all looked at her and started to really get scared, since I was really close behind her took a step back my back was know against the wall.« tell her it's not Colby.». Matt took the headphones and blindfold off just like his brothers did earlier and as he was about to speak Ana did. « it whispered "it's just us now" what the fuck»

Matt looked at us surprised while we were all used to the crazy thing it keep saying « I took mine off because it screamed in my ears. It scared the fuck out of me» I listened to him but I then remembered what Ana said as soon as Matt took of the headphones « it's not only the two of you we are still here. »

I said and Ana quickly answered « wow! I heard like an annoyed growl and then it said shut it!» they all smiled surprised « did dit really told you to shut it? That's crazy » Matt said. « it been super rude to Colby the whole time,do you think the spirit is in love with Ana?»Nick asked. «I mean they could but they have to remember that Ana is 19 and as sadly as it sounds they are dead so... » we all laugh and Ana said « you'll be dead too soon » this is getting really dark, I exchange a glance with Sam that confirm my thought.

« someday she'll be mine » the three brothers looked really worried « isn't this going too dark guys?» Nick asked I obviously agree and tap on Ana's shoulder so she know we've done and when she takes off the head phones we all hear in a deep voice « I'll stay with her » which freaks us all out. « oh, hell no. Packs your shit we're leaving » I said as I rushed out of the bathroom holding Ana's hand.

Ana's POV

Colby and I left the hotel room he was holding my hand, we were in the hallway when I stopped walking forcing him to stop with me. « stop! Stop! What the hell happened? Why did we leave like that? » I asked loudly really scared « what about my brothers? And Sam?» «i was getting out of hand! It was dangerous for you Ana!»

« so it is for them, let's get-» Colby cut me off « Ana, Ana stop calm down. Sam know what to do. it was getting dangerous for you. Not for Matt not for Chris for you. The spirit wanted you.»

I was shocked, I had no idea why he was saying that but I started to remember some things that I repeated earlier during the Estes method « I'm in love » or even when it said « it's just us now »

« I have to protect you,I am the one that know that stuff. So let's get you out of here and clean you » we starts to walk toward the exit of the hotel again « look I know this seem crazy but it's very serious. » we are now in front of the hotel I just texted Matt saying we're walking a little bit.«…so that's basically it. we think their was a spirit that fell in love with you and was maybe a little too obsessive »

« do you have a name for that spirit?» I asked curiously « why? Are you interested?» he asked with a little smile, I laugh looking at him « no, not really » I said still laughing a little. « why not? Are you already seeing somebody else?» but now it was not a smile anymore more like a smirk. « no I'm not, but... Let's say I like someone» there is no way I just said that I like someone to the someone I'm talking about. I kept looking at him, I wanted to see his reaction he looked surprised? « on yeah? Some guy you know?».

No don't ask I don't wanna say that. Not to you.« well…It's something like that i guess?» thank god we're outside in the night because I know i am blushing.« what do you mean something like that? Who is it? » and here it is. He asked. « well...» I don't know how I'm supposed to say that I've been having the biggest crush on him for some month now.« if I tell you my crush would you tell me yours?» I nod to him thinking that if he say someone else I'll invent a random guy.

His hand find my cheeks to caress it gently, smiling. He gets closer to me « you. You're my crush » I look at him smiling widely more than happy, he was still staring at me, well it looked like he was more staring at my lips. I was also looking at his and after a few seconds he leaned in and our lips finally connected.« you're my crush too » was all I said before kissing him again.

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #sam and colby #colby x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #colby brock x fem oc

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peachesofteal · 2 months

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I don’t think I have ever been so struck by a piece of writing as I was by “Light On”

Just in case you do respond to this, I’m going to put a trigger warning here because I am going to talk about losing loved ones. So if that makes you or anyone uncomfortable, please, please stop reading now okay? Take care of yourself first.

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

15 months ago I lost my husband and my parents - they were killed by a drunk driver in a car crash. I thought the whole thing was a sick joke at first when I got to the hospital. It’s really weird how our brains just like, try to protect us from reality… idk. Anyway, I went completely mute for 3 days. I physically couldn’t speak. My whole life fell apart in the span of an hour and I think my brain did what it could to keep me from processing that. At least that’s what my therapist said.

I am extremely fortunate to have a couple of girlfriends that did absolutely everything for me while I had to plan their funerals. I felt absolutely nothing the whole time. All of the feeling, screaming, sobbing and smashing shit came the night I had to bury them. My best friend had her husband pack my stuff that night and I lived with them for a year.

I ended up meeting a special forces soldier when I stopped by the tattoo shop my husband went to 8 months after he died. He had gotten a really fuckin cool “V for Vendetta” half sleeve a few months before the accident.

The guys name was Tom and I truly believe he brought me back to life. It took me a while to tell him everything & I tried to push him away after. Similar to Simon, he wouldn’t let me.

We aren’t dating - I’m just not ready for that yet and he knows it and respects it. But honestly, reading “Light On” gave me a little bit of hope that one day I’ll be ready again. I know I’ll never heal completely. Most days I still feel the gaping hole of loss that comes with losing anyone you love, but I’m holding out hope that one day the hole will start to close - at least a little.

Your story gave me hope. And to anyone and everyone who has read this whole ridiculous, trauma dumping ask, hug your loved ones a little tighter for me tonight. I would give anything to hug my parents again. I would give anything to kiss my husband one more time. I know I’ll get to one day when it’s my time, but until then, please do that for me if you can.

Thank you, Peach. I hope your days are filled with magic and love. Thank you for your stories. You’re one hell of a writer❤️

I’m so sorry for your loss. I know condolences are nothing in the face of such tragedy but I still offer them to you, with the whole of my heart. I am so, so sorry.

Grief, to me, is something that never leaves. It never fades it just… changes. It becomes a part of you, but as time passes, I find it to be… less sharp, but never less poignant. (Not saying that will be your experience.)

I know you’ll always carry your grief, your loss, but I hope one day its weight becomes less heartbreaking, even by a fraction.

I’m beyond myself thinking that something I wrote could give you hope. I’m so happy you’ve found someone who has been able to bring some life back into your days. I hope you’ll be ready again one day, if that’s what you feel is right for you, and I’m glad there could be someone at your side who is patient, understanding and steadfast.

I wish I could give you a hug, or scream with you, or cry with you. I hope I can continue to bring a little bit of hope to your life 🩵

#tw death #tw grief #tw grieving #peaches asks #crying in the club

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eleganzadellarosa · 1 year

Text

BOUNCE BACK

pairing: dominic fike x oc

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2.2K

AN: I wrote this on a whim for my best friend a few months ago to kick start my want to write. Dom is her bae fr so I obviously had to include him lol. Enjoy and thanks for reading <3

The beach was practically empty, a person scattered about here and there but nothing compared to how packed it usually is. That’s all thanks to how late it was becoming, the setting sun being a telltale sign. You didn’t mind the scarcity though, you wanted to be alone with your thoughts. Maybe the beach wasn’t the best or secluded place to be but you needed some fresh air and wanted to be somewhere where you normally felt happy. The sloshing sound of the waves temporarily took your mind off of today’s earlier events.

You found texts in your boyfriend of 5 years’ phone talking to some girl who carried no importance to you which was a good thing in its own way. The texts ranged from normal conversation to “I can’t wait to be inside you tonight”. You’d been together since the start of high school and you truly believed the relationship would last a lifetime. The feelings were apparently not mutual and after scrolling through the thousands of texts, this charade had been going on for years now. The girl in question was his ex who he dated right before getting with you and their relationship was comparable to a light switch, very off and on. Coming to the realization that he used you as a way to get his mind off of her until they were ready to kiss and makeup.

Nothing could have prepared you for today, but you were never one to turn down your gut feelings and they were right 99% of the time. You felt so stupid for trusting him and loving him the way you did but you constantly reminded yourself that none of this way your fault. The orange hue of the setting sun beamed on you, warming your skin and making the tears on your cheeks glisten. You were a mess. This was the third or fourth time you’ve cried within the past hour and your body seemed to have no intentions of stopping anytime soon. When you felt the vibration from the phone in your hand, you so badly wanted to chuck it into the water without checking it first, hoping the waves would take care of the rest.

Wiping your tears on the back of your hands, your sobbing finally came to a halt and you prayed for a bigger gap in between your next crying session. You lean back on your hands and scrunch the sand under your palms, closing your eyes to soak up the sun before it fully set within the next 30 minutes. The water seemed to move rapidly as the waves began to reach the shore and splash against your toes more frequently.

“Hey um, you might want to move a little farther back, the water is getting kinda high.” An extra shadow cast next to you along with the unfamiliar voice that came from behind you. Unfortunately for you, your puffy face and red eyes showed signs that you had been crying your heart out for the past hour no matter how many times your hands tried to rid your face of the evidence. Perhaps you had been staring at the sun for too long but it took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust and focus on the person now standing beside you.

“I- oh shit sorry, are you okay?” the handsome man asks, crouching down to be at eye level. Speaking of eyes, anyone with a pair could tell that this man was absolutely gorgeous. He had the perfect “boy next door” look to him. The look that made you want to be around him all the time, the look that would have every girl in school chasing after him but not because he was a fuckboy.

Everything about him was downright perfect, well at least to your standards. His hair, his face, his body, literally everything and thinking back to the two seconds you heard him speak, that was perfect too. Maybe all the crying made you let your guard down, but his presence felt so welcoming and you fought the weird urge to go up and hug him. You didn’t realize you hadn’t answered his question until he speaks again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but I’d prefer if you did, maybe I can make you feel better.” He then sits down next to you and rests his arms on his knees, which created a space for his head to lay as he looked at you. “Umm…earlier today I found out my boyfriend of 5 years has been cheating on me with his ex. I don’t know if I can even call him my boyfriend because apparently I was just a rebound whenever he needed it and I never caught on.” The end of your sentence gets slightly caught in your throat and you can feel your eyes burning, forcing tears to swell yet again.

“Man…I’m so sorry, that’s so fucked up. Would you feel better if you talked about it? I have time on my hands so I really don’t mind. Shit, you could tell me over and over if that would help.” It wouldn’t hurt to rant right now and him being one of the finest people you’ve ever met was just an added bonus.

The conversations quickly turned from your dumbass ex to getting to know each other. Everything seemed to flow naturally with him, he was such a joy to talk to and you wanted nothing more than for this night to never end. Sadly the sun had already set and it was quite dark out, the moon being the only source of light for you both. The two of you sat in silence for a while longer before you finally decided to check your phone. 9:15 it read. The singular notification being from “person who shall not be named” and you could only imagine what it said, but you wouldn't bother checking now, not if you wanted your mood to be soiled. He was the last thing on your mind and with the way this new guy had two hours feeling like 30 minutes, it was more than you could ask for.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I kept you here for this long. Thank you for listening to me though, I really needed it, I feel so much better.” He smiled when you finished speaking and shook his head as if to say “don’t worry about it”. “You know, if you’re comfortable with it, I can give you my number and you can text me whenever you need someone to listen. I know the feeling, so I really don’t mind and you’re a really great person to talk to”. Just hearing the offer makes your heart beat with excitement. Smiling maybe a little too hard, you hand him your phone so he can save himself as a contact.

“Wait, I never asked you your name. Dang, I’m sorry I was so focused on myself…” thinking about the selfish act had you almost in tears for the umpteenth time tonight until he rubs a comforting hand over your arm. “You really don’t have to worry about that love, I was here to listen. My name is Dominic but really just call me Dom.” The nickname gave you butterflies, more than his existence already did, if that was even possible. Whenever he smiled your eyes landed on the apple tattoo under his right eye. The longer you looked at him, the more things you noticed but nothing came across as a turn off. He stands up after handing back your phone and dusts the sand off his shorts. He reaches out for you to grab his hand to stand from where you sat.

“And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” Once standing, you mimicked his action of dusting off the sand from your clothing before you answer. “Jenna but really just call me Jenna”. Your response made him chuckle since you copied exactly what he had said to you moments earlier. You notice he still hadn’t let go of your hand and when you look up from where they intertwine, he speaks before you can. “Well Ms. Jenna, allow me to escort you back to your vehicle”. The night was ending all too quickly and your heart already aches with longing. “I kinda don’t wanna go back home yet Mr. Dom.” A small smirk paints his face, so small that you would have missed it if you didn’t look at him in time. “Um well, you can come chill with me if you want. I don’t really have anything to do at my house, but I do have food.” “Food is just fine and I don’t care if you don’t have anything to do, chilling is more than enough. Thank you for the invite.”

More hours are spent with you two learning more about one another and eating whatever random food or snacks he had in his house. You decided after chatting for a while that his laugh was in the top 10 things you liked most about him, it sounded so cheerful and he looked so cute whenever he did it. This was the most fun you’ve had in a long time, even more than you can ever recall having with your ex. “Hey do you want to hear something?” He says almost popping up from his seat on the couch. “What do you mean?” You ask clearly confused by his question. “I uh…like making music and I have something I’ve been working on. Do you wanna hear it?” You can tell he gets a bit shy with the way his ears turn a light shade of pink and he scratches the back of his head. Gosh could this man be anymore interesting? He lead you to a room near the back of his house and the door opened to a large space filled with instruments of all kinds. It looked like every studio you’ve seen in movies or TV.

“You can sit wherever you’d like, lemme just grab my guitar”. You find a place on the small couch nestled in the corner, sitting sideways to get a better look at what he was doing. He sits across from you on the couch holding the large brown guitar. He suddenly looked so serious, the guitar pick loosely hanging from between his lips, brows furrowing as he makes sure the guitar is tuned perfectly. Such a simple action, but you couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked while doing it. “This song is called 3 nights, lemme know what you think okay?” His voice mixed with the melody of the song possessed your body, making it move along to the beat. By the time he finished, the lyrics to the chorus were already stuck in your head on loop.

“No freaking way, that was amazing! You have to let other people hear this!” Your comment made him smile from ear to ear and a blush accented his cheeks. “Yeah? It’s still just a rough draft, but if you like it that much then I’m doing something right.” He sets his guitar down next to the couch and leans his head back against the arm. "You know, this is the first time in a long time where I didn't feel like I needed to smoke to get me through the day and I really appreciate that." He lifts his head and finds you staring at him with a sympathetic look on your face. "Obviously I wouldn't since we just met, but I didn't know you felt that way sometimes. I'm glad I could help you as much as you helped me today." He fully sits up on the couch and leaned over to you, his lips lightly brushing your forehead. The action made your body stiffen and he pulled away when he felt it. "Shit..sorry, I just felt like doing that. Sorry, I know that was so weird." You reached over to cup his cheek in your left hand and moved over to kiss him on the soft skin.

"It wasn't weird and I've been wanting to hug you all day. I could really use one of those right now." He wasted no time in pulling you into a tight but gentle hug and tears began to fall from your eyes. He lightly caresses your back and shushes you, trying to bring you some sort of ease to your pained heart. He plants another soft kiss on your forehead and you look up at him through teary eyes. "If I asked to stay longer, would you let me?" "Hell yeah, I'd let you stay the night if you were okay with that. You can sleep in my room and I can sleep on the couch in the living room." You nod your head and he rubs his thumb on your shoulder.

The night was over but the feeling of sadness never came to you as you expected. In contrast to yesterday, this day would start off a lot better and thankfully you had someone around that actually had the ability to take your mind off everything. Little did you know, this would count as the day you met the person who would later become someone you weren't ashamed to call your boyfriend.

#dominic fike #one shot #elliot euphoria #dominic fike x reader

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weirdmageddon · 1 year

Text

yesterday i wrote a scene where jade wasnt a plot device and was left the hell alone in A6A5 because this being dave and jade’s last proper conversation in years made me sad and i wanted to see them reunite properly. i mixed a bit of narration in too even though it was rare around this point in the comic but its just to paint a better picture. also i wouldnt mind feedback on character voice (it’s important to me that the dialogue sounds believable)

[3 years are over, everyone is in the new session. The prospit ship is on LOMAX, as is everyone who arrived on the meteor, safely warped by Jade onto LOMAX as well. Jade has banished B2 Jack to the Furthest Ring already. She hasn't seen her friends in 3 years, not to mention she never met the trolls in person yet.]

[Jade teleports to LOMAX where John was talking with the meteor crew. Her eyes widen when she sees the trolls, giving everyone a greeting. Jade waves to the trolls.]

You’ll have time to catch up with them later. First you want to reconvene with Rose and Dave.

> ==>

Dave... Oh my god! DAVE!!! That’s right! The last time you saw him, he died in your arms after Jack redirected the bullets from your gun into his body!

JADE: dave!!!! DAVE: hey DAVE: this has been three years coming hasnt it DAVE: cmere

> ==>

[Dave hugs Jade with a slight grin on face. He notices her… sniffing him?? but doesn’t even bother to question it.]

JADE: it is so nice to hold your body when its not a corpse :) DAVE: ok DAVE: weird thing to say DAVE: actually who am i kidding who gives a shit DAVE: i almost forgot how much i missed the enigmatic riddlefuckery that is your phrasing DAVE: fortunately i have context for this so i know what youre saying DAVE: humor me for a sec and imagine that i didnt DAVE: but first DAVE: are those dog ears JADE: yes! i am part dog now JADE: because i prototyped my dreamself with becsprite JADE: jadesprite became part of me! and so did her doggy traits from bec DAVE: got it DAVE: oh yeah john mentioned that on the back of his dumb poster inside that bucket that appeared out of thin air DAVE: right before we had to haul ass out of there before jack caught up to us DAVE: karkat had a complete fucking meltdown over that btw i wish you couldve seen it DAVE: damn it feels like so long ago now JADE: heheheh i remember JADE: john realized it at the last second but it was too late! DAVE: of course it was johns idea only he could do something that gooberish DAVE: you know what this means though JADE: yup!! woof woof DAVE: it means youve done it harley DAVE: youve finally done it god damn it DAVE: the evolution of humankind is finally upon us DAVE: the scientists said it would never happen in our lifetime DAVE: but look what we have here DAVE: before me stands mans first legitimate furry subspecies DAVE: homo canis DAVE: as the name implies theyre gay as fuck btw DAVE: its too bad all those scientists are dead and cant witness this phylogenetic breakthrough DAVE: rip to the science community yall wouldve lost your collective shit DAVE: hey jade lets pour one out for the science community for being real ones

> ==>

You are still nestled into Dave’s shoulder. He’s taken a sort of protective position over you. Your perceptive barkbeast ears can hear his formerly bullet-riddled heart beating a mile a minute with the regularity of quartz beneath his time-branded pajamas, all the while he continues to ramble to you about certifiably dumb shit. You can tell Dave is psyched to see you again, even if he expresses it in his OWN bizarre way, which means extended metaphors and topical tangents. What a hypocrite, calling YOUR phrasing perplexing! You sure missed this guy.

You realize you started tuning him out while thinking about all this.

DAVE: jade JADE: umm homo is the species name JADE: so wouldnt that mean were all gay? :p DAVE: yeah that sounds about right DAVE: anyway enough of this bullshit

> ==>

[Dave motions to retract his arms since he doesn’t want it to get too weird, but Jade squeezes tighter. Dave immediately yields to the movement]

DAVE: jesus wow ok DAVE: really happy to see you too DAVE: like if you had a tail it would be wagging so forcefully youd be knocking over all the fucking furnishings in the room DAVE: just slapping it so hard on the owners thigh that it feels like theyre being flogged DAVE: talk about getting bitch slapped JADE: :D DAVE: so howve you been JADE: really really excited to see you guys all again!!! JADE: and to meet the trolls! DAVE: yeah theyre pretty weird DAVE: and im still not used to it DAVE: but it gets more manageable the longer youre around them DAVE: by the way JADE: ?

> ==>

DAVE: sorry you had to go through that JADE: through what? DAVE: seeing me die and stuff again DAVE: except that time right in front of you JADE: .... DAVE: when we were gathering up all those frogs i knew jack was going to appear DAVE: i was waiting and waiting to play it out DAVE: mentally rehearsing my fucking torso getting turned into swiss cheese and knowing you would have to watch on top of it DAVE: i had to make sure it happened to protect the integrity of the alpha timeline DAVE: but if you knew this was going to happen you wouldve tried to prevent it and created a doomed one DAVE: and so i didnt say anything DAVE: i couldnt DAVE: so DAVE: sorry for putting you through that JADE: oh..... JADE: dave D: JADE: well im here JADE: if you ever want to talk about it DAVE: its cool DAVE: you just deserve to know what happened there DAVE: but thanks DAVE: so am i JADE: yeah i know JADE: i guess i should be glad you did that then... JADE: even though i was freaking out when it happened ._. JADE: otherwise you wouldnt be here will us now dressed in your red god tier time pajamas DAVE: yeah these magical rags really are comfortable arent they DAVE: and they stay like perma clean JADE: they are! i would wear mine over and over for days on end JADE: id take a nice shower and put it right back on JADE: and you know how much i love cycling my outfits through my wardrobifier JADE: by the way dave your cape is sooo cool! :o DAVE: thanks DAVE: yeah i love it its hella soft DAVE: its like ive got a portable snuggle blanket with me in case i ever need to drop to the floor like a tired sack of shit and get my snooze on DAVE: ive got a permanent personal reservation at club bed featuring dj pillow and mc blanky JADE: heheheh JADE: can i touch your cape? DAVE: of course go nuts JADE: yaaaay!!

#hs #homestuck #davejade #dave strider #jade harley #my hs dialogues

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dellalyra · 1 year

Note

Hey,i saw your reqs are open! So if i may, can i request for gojo with a fem s/o who i as strong as him but no one knows that since she hides that from EVERYONE. (Maybe she thinks shes alone with a curse and she is toying with a special grade curse and easily kills it, and gojo accidentally sees that and is like.... You're stronger than you let ppl know?)

Thats it and i hope u have a great day!!

Family Formation - Part Nine

Summary: Satoru discovers the extent of readers cursed technique.

CW: fluff, canon typical violence, mentions of mythology, fluff, fluff, teen satoru and reader (17/18), the elders (angry face)

A/N: this was SUCH A FUN REQUEST I love reading about powerful readers so this was a lot of fun to write, I wrote it this was bc I also felt I needed to explore their dynamic pre-relationship and also Y/N’s cursed technique before I get to other *ahemshibuyaahem* parts of the story. thank u all so much for all the love and support :) <3

Recommended Listening:

Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo (reader’s fight)

The Fruits - Paris Paloma (the explanation)

The Tradition - Halsey (the backstory)

Won’t Bite - Doja Cat (the ending)

The sunlight reached its peak, reflecting off Satoru’s bright white hair. Geto was bored and taking a ‘rest’ day and Shoko… well, she threw a water bottle at home when he even approached her room. That left you, he needed someone to hang out with, something to do because all of this hanging around was going to drive him even nuts than he already was. He text Shoko, asking where you were since you two were joined at the hip usually and you weren’t answering your phone. She replied telling him you’d been sent on a mission alone that morning – some abandoned orphanage down by the Shinjuku district. The next line nearly made the man’s eyes pop out of his head – a semi-grade one? Alone? You were only in second grade and the same age as him. Only a 1st year. Sure, you could hold your own in a fight but – this seemed like a reckless match.

Pulling on his sneakers and bomber jacket (not wearing his uniform felt weird) he Googles Shinjuku Abandoned Orphanage and finds an article about one being shut down 3 years ago due to the children speaking of ‘witnessing paranormal activity’, it had been closed due to the terrible publicity surrounding it. He rang for a driver and pointed him in the right direction.

A 20-minute ride was filled with Satoru thinking about how he should have been sent on this mission – not you, he was the strongest sorcerer alive after all. He kept telling himself the gnawing feeling in his gut was excitement for a fight – not worry, he wasn’t worrying about you. No, not. Why would he?

He could hear Suguru’s voice in his head from their last mission together.

“Bro, you love her. Just accept it, my guy. It’s clear she’s into you too.”

The car pulls up and Satoru unfolds himself from the back seat and waves the driver off. The building in front of him is surrounded by barbed wire fences, it’s been vacant for a long time if the boarded-up windows set in the building’s imposing front are anything to go by. He could sense a strong cursed energy, definitely a semi-grade one – along with something else, something stronger. Something far more ancient and far more powerful. It was familiar but different.

He had to find you.

He pinpointed the location where both energies were – third story, east wing, 5 doors down the corridor. He raced his way down thinking about how he’d love to practice his techniques warping abilities so he could quit all this running around. Maybe someday in the future, he’ll be able to just *poof* into a room. He was surely gonna do that to annoy Shoko.

He slowed down, nearing the room as he heard a familiar laugh coming from the room.

He knew that laugh, it always made his heart skip a beat – but why were you laughing now?

You were meant to be in danger. Not that he was hoping to be your knight in shining armour so he could see that shiny look of adoration in your eyes – no, that’s ludicrous.

The door was hanging off its hinges and nothing could have prepared him for what he saw inside the room.

You.

Y/N.

But – different.

You stood, your stature still miniature in comparison to his lanky, boyish frame but you seemed so much larger now, your presence was pulsating through the room – overwhelming to anyone but him.

Your feet were bare on the concrete floor and you seemed to almost hop around your prey, your tiny little hands, nails usually painted a pretty pale green – we’re still pale green but not your nails, no – claws were protruding out of your dainty little hands. He could see from here they were as sharp as any cursed knife. Your hair, seemed longer and wait, were those… vines? Vines and leaves seemed to grow from your head as naturally as the hair itself, mingling with the pretty cascade of your hair down your spine. Your eyes he so often couldn’t take his own off were alight and you were talking, and when you opened those pretty lips that he flirted with you about how much he’d like to taste your lip gloss – leaving you to tell him to save his flirts for someone he was into (both of you were so oblivious to the obvious feelings that you held for each other that Shoko and Suguru might cry if it went on any longer), he saw two sharp as needle fangs, pearly white on your pillowy lips.

You were completely and utterly ethereal.

What shocked him – was the mess in the middle of the room. A grotesque mess of a curse – horrifyingly long, spindly limbs attached to a body that was just stretched mottled skin over bones – the whole body covered in beady eyes, almost insect-like. The creature had no discernible head, just those torturous limbs. He’d seen worse things before.

He had seen your techniques, you could do things like to make a wall of thorns to deflect curses - he’d seen you summon whips of vines to lash at and bind a curse, he’d even seen you seemingly have a chat with a ladybug one day. And of course, your marksmanship with your cursed longbow was unrivalled, sniping shots that seemed impossible. He knew you were a very capable sorcerer, the most intelligent he knew in the school (even beyond Nanami). Your love for books helped that too.

What shocked him was what you had done. It looked like the very earth was cooperating with your every whim, grasses and vines and tree branches had broken their way through the floor and were caging the fighting curses limbs as they grew weaker and weaker against your onslaught. There was a beam coming through the ceiling, moonlight? At 2 pm? It seemed to sear and burn the curse in licking flames as it shot down onto it before returning to the shape of a small, silvery orb and absorbing itself into your palm.

“You lay here, waiting each day for night to fall, didn’t you? To prey on these children, to torture their little minds with fears and terrors – to be the monster under their bed. The children who were already scarred and frightened – but you knew that, and you loved it, didn’t you? Oh, you loved the feeling of drinking up the screams of those innocent children – and do you know what that makes you? It makes you a monster. Funnily enough, my family were taught and raised for one destiny, but me especially, I was born with ancient rage, and I was born with the strength for one thing – to kill monsters, just like you.”

And with that, you notched an arrow into your bow and muttered something under your breath.

“You won’t harm anyone anymore. Sleep well.” And with a smile, the arrow tip glowed a soft gold and flew threw the air into the restricted body of the curse who was quickly engulfed in a golden light as it screamed and fell, returning to the ground as nothing but dust.

“Nurture the earth now, do some good for the world.” You whisper, low enough that Satoru could barely hear. How you still manage to keep your heart so soft will always amaze him.

Satoru’s phone dropped from his hand, and you spin, notching another arrow into your bow and aiming directly at his head.

You gasp when you realise who’s here.

“Gojo, what are you doing here? How long have you been there?” You ask, lowering your weapon.

“Y/N. What the fuck. YOU HAVE CLAWS.” His jaw was hanging open, hardly believable image of what he’d seen.

That ancient energy wasn’t another curse, you hadn’t been in danger – you had been the danger.

You sigh. Gojo would have found out sooner or later, guess it was sooner. A part of you was worried about what he’d seen, would he think it ugly? Would he think you cursed? This boy – you had accepted your feelings but even though you thought (idiot) he’d never love you back, you didn’t want him to think any less of you.

Well, no escaping this conversation now.

“Wanna grab boba? I’m done here so, we can grab some on the way back to school. I’m guessing you have some questions.”

Uncharacteristically quiet, he just nods.

You walk ahead, slinging your bow on your back and taking out your phone. He sees you dial Yaga’s number.

“Hey, yeah it’s all done. Just as we thought.” You say, and he hears the deep rumble of his sensei’s voice through the speaker.

“Yeah thing is, I’ve had an unexpected visitor. Seems someone thought I might not be able to do it alone so showed up at the end. Yeah, I have it handled. Yup, exactly who you think. Yaga! Stop! I’ll see you later.”

You hang up the phone, just as you reach your favourite boba shop.

“Drinks are on you, Satoru – you gatecrashed my mission.” You smirk.

“Hardly gatecrashed if I turned up and feared for the safety of my pretty face!” The shock had worn off now and he was just in awe and desperate to hear what the fuck he witnessed.

He ordered you both your usual orders and sat across from you at a secluded table outside. You notice the dewy drop of sugary tea on his lip, his skin glistening under the golden sun. God. How can someone be that beautiful, surely it’s illegal?

“So sugar - you’ve been hiding something from your dearest darling best friends, haven’t you?” He looks at you with eyebrows raised.

“Not my choice. It’s a complicated situation. Yaga thought it best to keep it under wraps until I’m 18.”

“I hear ya – but the question still stands: keep what under wraps? Here was me coming to my princess’s rescue,” your cheeks flushed at his (what you thought) casual flirting.

“It’s a long story – you sure you’ve got nothing better to be doing, Mr Honoured One, no ladies to dazzle with those pretty eyes of yours?” You laugh, slurping up a brown sugar Pearl.

“Oh I’ll always have enough time for you, sugar, plus – am I not dazzling a pretty girl now?” You both giggle it off, unaware that he’s being serious and that you were dazzled by him long before today.

There’s a beat of silence.

“My family’s inherited technique. The elders think it’s long extinct but I was born with it. Legend says my family is descended from dryads, forest spirits, you’ve known that nature is the root, no pun intended, of my technique since the start but – it goes a bit deeper. I’m listed as grade two, but only because the elders don’t know the truth. I’m meant to hide everything until I’m 18, so only 5 months left to go anyway. The elders will throw a bitch fit when they find out. Your ancestor La and mine worked together, and when I was born my mother and grandmother chose to keep the technique hidden until I was legally an adult and could make my own informed choices about whether or not I wanted to stay part of the jujutsu world. The elders… don’t take kindly to my family. We’re kind of considered outcasts, like the Inumaki clan.” You say, taking a breather to sip your drink.

“Why? Your mom is so nice” He adds in.

“Ah well, my family, we’re very much a matriarchal family. The women have typically done everything in their power to fight the elders on their idiocy. Given that they’re old, sexist men – this didn’t go down well. So we’ve typically been hounded by them. Then, I was born. Not only the heir to my clan but a woman which ancient cursed abilities. Our family has always scared them, but I’m their worst nightmare trifecta. I made a deal with my family, I’d keep it secret until I’m 18, then I’m free to do as I wish..” You added, smiling, because in truth – being the bane of the elders’ lives was a source of pride.

“So they hid it until you can make your own choices, and take the helm of the clan leader at 18?” He asks.

“Yeah, my mom just wants a quiet life. She’s travelling the world writing of jujutsu sorcery and my grandma is holding the fort. We’re not quite the Gojo’s, Zen’in’s or Kamo’s – but we’re a very old sorcery family, so we’ve influence enough.”

“Y/N. You know you’re not grade two, right?” He asks, dead serious.

“I know, Gojo. I’m special grade. Yaga is a friend of my uncle’s so he agreed to keep it all quiet.” You finish up your drink.

“Gojo – what I’ve told you, only Yaga knows. This stays between us, okay?” He nods and crosses his heart.

“And don’t worry, you’re still the strongest. I’m just good backup.” He giggle, swinging your bag over your shoulder and motioning for him to follow.

“You say that part of your technique is ancient? And thought extinct? Which part? Now you’ve told me I wanna see everything.”

You look back and forth between the streets, and you find an empty alley.

You stop.

He stops.

“Snow leopards are your favourite animal, right?” You ask and he wonders why his heart skips a beat at you remember such a silly detail.

He cocks an eyebrow and agrees.

“I’d tell you to close your eyes, but it won’t do much good.” And with that, a flash a golden light encompasses you and instead of the oh so pretty girl he loves seeing in front of him is a snowy white, fluffy, golden eyed leopard.

And in a flash, you’re back in front of him.

“I can’t do it for long. It’s still really taxing to do and zaps my cursed energy.” You say, gripping his elbow and making your way back to the main road.

“Y/N. I hope you know. That might have been the coolest thing ever. Oh! Can you do like a little mouse so I can just hide you and carry you around in my pocket all day and give you cheese and –” his enthusiasm is cut off by your loud laughter.

“Maybe when I’m stronger Satoru, then I’ll stay with you all the time and you won’t have to follow me to my missions when you’re bored.” You’d text the driver to pick you both up.

“Hey! I was worried! I didn’t know you were some freaky nature fairy when I left did I? !” He grins, and god he looks so handsome in the late afternoon light.

You swat his arm.

“You’re one to talk Mr. I have nearly the same number of eyes as a spider.” And with that he tosses your much smaller form over his shoulder.

“Hey – you might be cool but I’m still the strongest and right now, it’s time for me to demonstrate that.” You half heartedly thump at his back as you laugh at him to put you down.

The car pulls up, a curious gaze from the driver who is thoroughly confused by why you’re over Gojo’s shoulder.

He tosses you into the backseat of the car.

“That’s for keeping secrets from your bestest friends ever.” He flicks your forehead, buckling your belt.

You just roll your eyes.

The drive back home is filled with idle chatter, but Gojo can’t stop thinking about how goddamn fucking perfect you are. You’ve always been strong, kind, beautiful, sexy, funny but god the feral determination he saw in you today shook him to his very core. You say your goodbyes as you head to shower and sleep, but your phone buzzes that night – with a terribly photoshopped picture of your face on a mouse, captioned – ‘btw- ur technique, it’s really beautiful Y/N, I’m really hpy I saw you like that, and thx for telling me, u nd ur secret r safe w me ’. You can’t fight the smile on your face, a weight lifted off your shoulder now that the boy you love knows everything about you – well, except that one secret. The one that you’re hopelessly in love with him.

Maybe some day.

TAGLIST: @vesta-ro @lilithlunas @mialexandruh @sassy-cat-in-town @madam-ri @cjm-cookiethief

Requests open <3

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #pixie writes: family formations

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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 months

Text

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 5

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Meetings of this kind could take months to arrange; the speed at which it happened now was dizzying, if you did not know Laurent.

i like how damen has immediately fallen back into his book 1 & early book 2 habit of giving laurent backhanded compliments

He sat on the audience throne, with a single oak seat empty beside him and Nikandros standing behind him.

you know, damen, i can think of someone who has recent experience with oak chairs…

When prince met prince there were protocols to observe. You did not greet each other alone in a diaphanous tent. Or thrown to the ground in chains in a palace viewing chamber.

and yet, given the choice between protocol and hanging out with laurent in a tent… i think damen is seriously struggling with which he would truly prefer. if not already decided, in his heart

The last time Akielon and Veretian royalty had met ceremonially had been six years ago, at Marlas, when the Regent had surrendered to Damen’s father, King Theomedes. Out of respect to the Veretians, Damen had not been present, but he remembered the satisfaction of knowing that Veretian royalty was bending its knee to his father. He had liked it. He had probably liked it, he thought, about as much as his men disliked what was happening today, and for the same reasons.

“he had liked it.” ouch. but also showing the subjectivity of damen and laurent’s shared history

It was not like the ecstatic entries Laurent had made into the towns and villages of Vere. No one swooned or cheered or threw flowers at his feet. The camp was silent.

Laurent strolled in, beautifully;

He came down the path that was cleared for him, as though walking unmolested through an Akielon camp was simply his right.

because it is, because he made it so 💅

Damen’s own men watched as a man might watch his enemy sauntering into his house, unable to prevent it.

“sauntering” perfect word choice

‘My brother of Akielos,’ said Laurent.

i know the “brother” thing is part of the “language of kings,” but it’s extra awkward between laurent and damen because 1) damen killed laurent’s actual brother and 2) they’ve literally fucked

Everyone knew that in the Akielon language, princes of foreign nations addressed each other in the fraternal.

and everyone also knows that damen killed laurent’s brother, and that damen and laurent fucked, so it’s weird for them too!

‘Our brother of Vere,’ said Damen.

oooh, damianos has to use the royal “we” since he’s king, further removing himself from his individual identity as damen. part of the kingship/“kingdom or this” theme, which we’re seeing a lot in book 3, for obvious reasons

He recognised Guion, the Regent’s most loyal Councillor, who, sometime in the last three days, had switched sides.

don’t worry about it

Damen lifted his hand, offering it palm up, with fingers outstretched. Laurent lifted his own hand calmly, resting it atop Damen’s. Their fingers met. He could feel the eyes of every Akielon in the tent on him. They proceeded slowly. Laurent’s fingers rested infinitesimally above his own. He felt the moment when the men around him realised what was going to happen. Reaching the dais, they sat, facing outward, the twin oak seats now twin thrones.

of course they had to make this announcement in the most dramatic, shocking, and tense manner possible. like idk, someone could have explained the alliance with words first, just to make sure everyone’s on the same page when the two leaders sit down beside each other. i get that this wordless performance might simply be the appropriate protocol, but damen and laurent still somehow manage to make it feel inappropriate for the occasion.

‘We have called you here today to witness our accord,’ said Damen, in a clear voice that carried over the noise.

i think i read somewhere that pacat compared this scene to a wedding, and that would totally make sense, both with the way its written and the way damen and laurent are allergic to conventional romance story plot beats. like yeah, this WOULD be their wedding, wouldn’t it.

‘Today we mark the alliance of our nations against those pretenders and usurpers who seek to assail our thrones.’

same energy as suspended twitter user donald j trump saying “i would like to extend my best wishes to all, even the haters and losers, on this special date, september 11th.”

Laurent settled in as though the place had been made for him, and adopted the posture he typically favoured, one leg straight out before him, a fine-boned wrist balanced on the arm of the throne.

cunt (affectionate)

Explosions of outrage, furious exclamations, there were hands on the hilts of swords. Laurent did not look particularly concerned by this, or anything.

Coiled and personal, Laurent’s gift was a Veretian whip, made of gold.

i remember reading this for the first time and saying “GIRLLLL” out loud to my cat

He remembered Laurent’s hand giving a little tug on the rod, infuriating, more than that. He remembered having his legs kicked apart, his hands bound, the thick wood of the post against his chest, the lash about to fall on his back. He remembered Laurent, arranging himself against the opposite wall, settling his shoulders there, positioning himself to watch every slightest expression on Damen’s face. His gaze swung to Laurent. He knew he had flushed, he could feel the heat in his own cheeks. In front of the gathered generals, he couldn’t say, What have you done?

there is a strategic advantage to this move on laurent’s part (to be revealed in a minute), but it’s also just him being a petty bitch and trying to make damen flustered/triggered on the throne

Inside the tent, Akielon men and women were looking at one another questioningly, others craning their necks to see.

and actually, this gesture from laurent also tells damen something else: “you thought i was evil for flogging you, my brother’s killer? then refuse my offer for revenge against men who murdered your people, in front of your bloodthirsty nation who want to see it happen. where’s your moral high ground now, bitch.”

‘The whip and the men are Vere’s gift to Akielos,’ said Laurent, and then he turned his melting blue eyes on Damen. ‘The first fifty lashes are my gift to you.’

wouldn’t be the first time laurent gifted damen laurent lashes out of spite. which i’m sure laurent is very smug about, saying this now.

He couldn’t have stopped it, even if he had wanted to.

i do think some of laurent’s revenge here is putting damen in the same powerful/powerless position he (laurent) had been in for seven years in arles. just because laurent was a prince, doesn’t mean he wasn’t a captive too. ultimately, it was laurent's innate responsibility to his people, felt as a prince, that kept him from just leaving entirely. but in order to stay and survive, he had to play dirty and adapt with his uncle's depraved court.

now a king, damen finds himself similarly bound to his duties, in a time of war without the support of his father. and laurent gets some kind of satisfaction in reminding damen of this fall from grace by forcing him to endure the depravity of his own court.

A part of Damen’s mind recognised how perfectly this gift had been judged, the exquisite virtuosity of it: Laurent was delivering him a backhanded blow with one hand, and with the other, caressing his generals as a man scratches a dog under the chin.

isander foreshadowing. the ethical implications of that entire thing are going to be soooo tricky to unpack when i get to it

Damen heard himself say, ‘Vere is generous.’ ‘After all,’ Laurent held his gaze, ‘I remember what you like.’ The stripped men were tied down.

jesus FUCKING christ.

okay. here’s the thing. there’s literally no plausible interpretation of “i remember what you like” that makes this diplomatic or professional. the contrast of damen being so careful and disciplined with his language, and laurent just shooting out these insanely personal disses like it’s no big deal, is SOOOOOOO…

like. what the fuck is the audience thinking when they hear that line. it would be like watching a broadcast of two real-life world leaders doing a diplomatic ceremony, and one of them is like "i look forward to our partnership" and the other goes, at full volume and in the same exact tone of voice, "i know. you told me that last night."

Damen felt his pulse speed up as he realised he was going to watch Laurent have ten men flayed alive in front of him.

although i do seem to recall damen saying to himself back in like book 2 that he’d seen plenty of akielion soldiers flayed (flogged? is it the same thing?) as punished, and even commanded it once or twice, so…

‘Furthermore,’ said Laurent, his voice pitched to carry, ‘Fortaine’s bounty is yours. Its physicians will tend to your wounded. Its storehouses will feed your men. The Akielon victory at Charcy was hard-won. All that Vere gained while you fought is yours, and it is deserved. I will not profit from any hardship that befalls the rightful King of Akielos or his people.’

laurent is so smart. he knows how to work a crowd, even when it’s full of people who despise him. and he’s not even breaking a sweat.

You will lose Straton. You will lose Makedon, Nikandros had said, but he hadn’t counted on the fact that Laurent would arrive, and begin, dangerously, to control everything.

Bloody and pulped, the men, who were no longer men, were cut from the whipping blocks. That took time too, because more than one handler was needed to lift each man, and no one was quite certain which of the men were unconscious and which were dead.

you know, maybe no one should flay or flog anyone else. like, as a general rule. have we thought of that?

Damen said, ‘We have a personal gift too.’

the return of the antagonistic lamen “yes, and!” one of the few things from book 1 i truly miss

(also, i’m glad damen didn’t come into this tableau full intending to be professional and respectful. like he planned some petty freak shit too, in advance. he is still ant with a bindle, but he has his pride. he’s always had pride, even as a slave, especially as a slave. and if damen can’t have laurent as a lover or a friend, he can at least “enjoy” engaging in weird mind games with him instead. in a way, it’s kind of enrichment for them both.)

Last night, in the evening darkness of the tent, he had pulled this gift from his packs and looked down at it, feeling its weight in his hands. Once or twice before, he had thought about this moment. In his most private thoughts, he’d imagined it happening with the two of them alone together.

okay, never mind, i massively overestimated the spiteful pettiness from damen here :( he wanted to do this in another way, lovingly and privately. he's only doing it here and now because he has to, in order to earn his army's respect. ant with a bindle, through and through.

it’s okay buddy, you can marry laurent again post-canon. and then you won’t even be figuratively divorced while doing it!

He hadn’t imagined it like this, the private made public, and painful. He didn’t have Laurent’s ability to hurt with what mattered most.

and that's why this series works. see my long essay about damen as the heart of the series in chapter 4.

‘Every man here knows that you kept us as a slave,’ said Damen. He said it loudly enough that all those gathered in the pavilion tent could hear. ‘We wear your cuff on our wrist. But today, the Prince of Vere will prove himself our equal.’

THE ROYAL “WE” 💀 💀 💀

you know, technically it was kastor, an akielion, who made damen a slave and gave him specifically to laurent. they didn’t even have slaves in vere before akielos gifted them one. just sayin

He gestured and one of his squires came forward. It was still wrapped in cloth. He felt the sudden tension in Laurent, though there was no outward change. Damen said, ‘You asked for it, once.’ The squire drew back the cloth to reveal a gold cuff. He felt rather than saw the tightness in Laurent. The cuff, unmistakably, was the twin to the one Damen wore, altered last night by a blacksmith for Laurent’s finer wrist. Damen said, ‘Wear it for me.’ For a moment he thought Laurent wasn’t going to do it. But in public, Laurent had no recourse to refusal. Laurent extended his hand. And then waited, palm outstretched, his eyes lifting to meet Damen’s. Laurent said, ‘Put it on me.’

the fact that this isn’t even damen being mean, but just painfully earnest and hurt and yearning, clearly not what laurent expected at all… :( damen is refusing to play dirty, no matter how hard laurent goads him. and he doesn’t even want to hurt laurent, in fact he almost seems to long for him. that’s probably what surprises and confuses this self-loathing mean girl era laurent the most. he keeps trying (and succeeding) to push damen away, but damen still refuses to push back.

also, lamen hr complaint #7, made by everyone present besides damen and laurent. nothing specific, but just a vague feeling of "uh, was it professional to make us watch and participate in this?" after the fact

Every pair of eyes in the tent was on him. Damen took Laurent’s wrist in his hand. He would have to unlace the fabric and push the sleeve back. He could feel the devouring gazes of the Akielons in the tent, as hungry for this as they had been for the whipping. Rumours of Damen’s enslavement in Vere had spread like fire through the camp. To see the Veretian Prince wear the gold cuff of a palace bed slave in turn was shocking, intimate, a symbol of Damen’s ownership.

i love how these books manage to make things unbelievably hot, even when they have nothing to do with sex. they might as well be fucking right now and it would feel less intimate and personal. which actually might be the entire point of the veretian pets and akielion slaves being so horny on main all the time, to serve as a contrast to the deep eroticism of this.

Laurent’s blue eyes remained cool, but under Damen’s thumb, Laurent’s pulse was rabbit fast.

laurent came here expecting to control a crowd, not to be emotionally compromised and vulnerable in front of one. and he’s probably even more flustered/upset about the fact that damen was able to make him feel and react like this so publicly, without even appearing to have malicious or vindictive intent. what laurent serves as poison, is what damen serves him back as medicine. and while laurent can handle an angry crowd just fine, he has no means with which to defend himself from damen’s endearing love and care.

He pushed back the fabric. It was more bare skin than Laurent had ever shown in public, on display to the entire tent.

“you look like a whore” <3

another accidental damen reverse card, calling back to the way damen was publicly exposed in book 1. not even meant to hurt laurent but still probably landing like revenge.

‘Help me regain my kingdom, and I’ll see you King of Vere.’ Damen fitted the cuff to Laurent’s left wrist.

his teeny tiny little wrist…

‘I’m overjoyed to wear a gift that reminds me of you,’ said Laurent.

he may be flustered, but he’s still That Bitch.

The cuff locked into place. He didn’t withdraw his wrist, just left it leaned on the arm of the throne, laces open and gold cuff in full view.

it’s like they have those matching t shirts that say “i’m hers” and “i’m his,” except damen’s would say “i’m his” and laurent’s would say “i’m terrified of attachment” and then “i’m his” in significantly smaller text

Horns were blown the length of the ranks, and refreshments were brought. All that had to happen now was for Damen to endure the rest of the welcoming ceremony, and at the end, sign their treaty.

damen and laurent just invented divorced marriage! truly trailblazers of their time

A series of display fights were performed, marking the occasion with disciplined choreography. Laurent watched with polite attention, and underneath that, possibly real attention, as it would suit him to catalogue Akielon fighting techniques.

they should have a homoerotic fight sequence instead of a first dance

Across from Makedon, Vannes was taking refreshments. Vannes had been the Regent’s Ambassador to the all-female court of the Vaskian Empress, who it was said ripped men apart with her leopards for public sport.

VANNES HIIIIIII VANNES!!!!! THE GIRLS ARE HEREEEEEEE!!!!!!

(can you tell that i'm getting tired of the almost entirely male cast)

He thought of the delicate dealings with the Vaskian clans that Laurent had engineered, all along their ride south. He said, ‘Are you going to tell me what won Vannes to your side?’ Laurent said, ‘It’s no secret. She is to be the first member of my Council.’

laurent feminism win. any person of any gender can be politically valuable.

(i have more complex thoughts on women in this series, which i’ve written about before. i do think laurent feels a genuine sense of solidarity with most women in this series, specifically the disempowered ones like loyse and the sex workers at the brothel. but vannes is a special case, because she’s cruel and sadistic just like the men in power, so i don’t think laurent promising her a place in his council has anything more to do with her gender than the fact that the misogynistic regent wouldn’t do the same.)

‘And Guion?’ ‘I threatened his sons. He took it seriously. I had already killed one of them.’

“i had already killed one of them.”

laurent says this flippantly, but it's kind of freudian slip. laurent admits here that he sees himself as directly responsible for aimeric’s suicide. which is… a very laurent thing to think, and then to weaponize against himself inside his own head. i think a big part of the reason laurent is able to take insults so carelessly, and even insult himself as a deflection, is that he knows that nobody knows him better than himself, and that he’s thought worse things of himself than anyone else possibly could.

‘If this is truly an alliance between equals,’ said Makedon, ‘it’s a pity we can’t see a display of Veretian fighting.’ You are seeing one right now and you don’t even know it, thought Damen.

wait the first dance thing was a joke, but maybe i just vaguely recalled it actually happening??

also, love that thought from damen. perfect read of the scene, although i think people are probably a little more aware of their freakiness than damen seems to assume.

‘Or a contest,’ Makedon said. ‘Veretian against Akielon.’ ‘Are you proposing to challenge Lady Vannes to a duel?’ said Laurent.

kind of a desperate thing for laurent to say. a weak snarky deflection, basically admitting that he does not want to fight damen in front of everyone right now.

Blue eyes met brown. Laurent was relaxed on the throne, and Damen was too aware of what Makedon saw: a youth, less than half his age; a princeling who shirked battle; a courtier with lazy, indoor elegance.

despite appearances, damen knows that laurent is an excellent fighter and a suitable match for himself. again with the backhanded compliment!!

‘But we are like brothers.’ Laurent smiled. Damen felt Laurent’s fingertips touch his; their fingers slid into one another.

“alive brothers, to be precise. not that i’d know anything about having one of those, right, husband?”

side note, i 100% see post-canon laurent calling damen “husband” just as much as his actual name. it’s the perfect mix of condescending, performative, affectionate, and possessive. between them it would almost feel like an inside joke, which we all know damen and laurent enjoy. perfect.

He knew from long experience when Laurent was repressing everything into a single hard kernel of distaste.

for a second i was like, “why is laurent so against this, when he’s a good fighter?” but then i remembered that he got fucking stabbed in the shoulder like two days ago

Heralds brought the document, ink on paper, written in two languages, side by side so that neither one was atop the other. It was simply worded. It did not contain endless clauses and subclauses. It was a brief declaration: Vere and Akielos, united against their usurpers, allied in friendship and common cause.

not the marriage certificate…

He signed it. Laurent signed it. Damianos V and Laurent R, with a big loopy L.

oh of COURSE laurent makes a big loopy L, and of course damen makes specific note of it.

also, help. what the fuck do the letters stand for. they don’t have last names. i thought “V” could be like a roman numeral or something, but what the fuck is “R.” i know i could look this up and probably figure it out on my own, and so i will momentarily, but i did just want to say here that i’m stumped.

okay, got it. apparently R stands for “roi,” the french word for king, and v stands for “vasileus,” the greek word for king. fair enough!

‘To our wondrous union,’ said Laurent.

CUNT

And the Akielons were filing out too, the officers and the generals, the dismissed slaves, until he was alone with Nikandros, whose eyes were on him, furious, and with all the flat knowledge of an old friend.

nik private twitter vent #9, he livetweeted the lamen divorce wedding. also, a note on the nik private twitter bit: damen follows him, and is just happy that nik has a space to express himself :)

‘You gave him Delpha,’ said Nikandros. ‘It wasn’t—’ ‘A bedding gift?’ said Nikandros. ‘You go too far.’

to be fair, laurent would totally be down to negotiate land ownership with weird sex games

‘Do I? I remember Ianestra. And Ianora,’ said Nikandros. ‘And Eunides’s daughter. And Kyra the girl from the village—’

HE HAS A LIST.

‘That’s enough. I won’t talk about this.’

nikandros: why does the prince of vere call you babygirl damen: that’s enough. i won’t talk about this

‘You don’t need to talk, I have seen him,’ said Nikandros. ‘I don’t care what you’ve seen. It’s not what you think.’

nikandros saw that laurent was blonde and immediately heard the vine boom sound effect

‘I think he is beautiful and unobtainable, when your whole life, you’ve never had a refusal,’ said Nikandros.

not wrong, but not right either. damen genuinely loves and respects laurent, like as person and not just as a fuck. and pretty much anyone damen has wanted to have sex with in life has immediately agreed, because he’s a prince. being disinterested in sex without deep personal connection, and being a prince himself, laurent is different from damen's previous partners. he's less unobtainable, and more just, like, evenly-matched.

‘You have committed Akielos to an alliance because the Prince of Vere has blue eyes and blond hair.’

… multiple things can be true. those aren’t the only reasons.

damen likes blondes #9

And then, in a terrible voice, ‘How many times does Akielos have to suffer because you can’t keep your—’

nik private twitter vent #10:

Damen was angry, he wanted to smash the glass beneath his fingers. To let the pain of the glass cut into him.

having a “hurt” by nine inch nails moment. a “no children” by the mountain goats moment. yeah, i should make the lamen divorce playlists

‘Do you think—for a moment that I’d . . . Nothing,’ he said, ‘is more important to me than Akielos.’

i don’t want to be neglectful of the “kingdom or this” theme, because it does come up a lot. it’s just that, at this point, i don’t have much to add.

‘He is the Prince of Vere! He doesn’t care about Akielos! Are you saying you aren’t swayed by the thought of having him? Open your eyes, Damianos!’

nikandros, the slave sex user, should shut the fuck up about damen yearning for his “unobtainable” equal. damen isn’t the only one here with a blind spot.

‘You want him. It’s natural. He looks like one of the statues Nereus has in his garden, and he’s a prince of your own rank. He dislikes you, but dislike can have its own appeal,’ said Nikandros. ‘So bed him. Satisfy your curiosity. Then, when you have seen that mounting one blond is much like mounting another, move on.’

this is fucking infuriating. laurent is so much more than his pretty appearance, and a lot of his insecurity and problems with vulnerability revolve around the way people view him as a sexual object. his relationship with damen was founded on mutual respect and personal understanding. and damen knows this, and i’m sure he’s infuriated too. looking forward to his response.

The silence went on a moment too long.

looking forward to his response.

He had no intention of putting any of it in words. I told him I was a slave, and he pretended to believe me. I kissed him on the battlements. He had his servants bring me to his bed. It was our last night together, and he gave himself to me. He knew all the while it happened that I was the man who killed his brother.

right, damen is still confused by laurent more than anything else at this point. he doesn’t know where either of them stand. the only thing he recalls here is a sense of disorientation, trying to align what he’s learned about laurent’s internal workings with the way he’d interacted with damen physically and emotionally. and the puzzle pieces don’t fit, so he doesn’t want to think or talk about it. and he doesn’t really blame nikandros for his confusion or crass description of laurent, because damen still doesn’t understand how laurent could have even allowed any of the sexual things between them to happen in the first place.

also, unfortunately, i think we can gather from the way nikandros speaks here that damen has spoken this way about partners in the past. and that’s probably part of why it doesn’t bother him as viscerally as it bothers me.

‘Yes I lay with him,’ said Damen. ‘It was one night. He barely relaxed the whole time. I will admit I—wanted him.

and this probably isn’t how damen is used to talking about sexual partners, so it comes out awkward and insecure and weirdly earnest. better than being a douchebag, so i’m calling it character development.

'But he is the Prince of Vere and I am the King of Akielos. This is a political alliance. He approaches it without emotion. So do I.’

ngl this is frustrating, esp when i’m reading so slowly and taking notes… not a problem with the writing at all, but just 😬 😬 😬 how many times do i have to point out that these two men are emotionally unintelligent and needlessly evasive before they figure out their shit, put down their defenses, and talk to each other

‘It’s not the same.’ ‘Laurent is not Jokaste?’

😬 😬 😬

i am trying not to waste too much of my time with this scene but he’s wrong, we all know nik is wrong by implying they’re the same because we know laurent better than nik does etc etc etc oh my god this is exactly why there’s a trial scene at the end and damen gets to be laurent’s defense attorney isn’t it

‘I do. I know,’ said Damen, ‘who he is, and that it means I cannot have him.’

you’re literally a king, if anyone is qualified to CHANGE THAT it’s you

‘No. Listen Damianos. You trust blindly. You see the world in absolutes—if you believe someone a foe, nothing will dissuade you from arming up to fight. But when you give your affections . . . When you give a man your loyalty, your faith in him is unswerving. You would fight for him with your last breath, you would hear no word spoken against him, and you would go to the grave with his spear in your side.’

this is true, at least. nik knows damianos well, he just doesn’t know laurent or our damen. but as i myself have commented, damianos and damen are ultimately both the same guy, even though he’s evolved throughout the series.

‘And are you so different?’ said Damen. ‘I know what it means that you are riding with me. I know that if I am wrong you will lose everything.’

“i will fight for him just as you fight for me, so i suppose that makes us both noble fools.”

He said, ‘The Prince of Vere.’ When he looked at Damen again, it was a sidelong glance under his raised brows, and for a moment they were boys again, on the sawdust, throwing spears that fell six feet short of the men’s hide targets.

“i can’t believe you hit that.”

‘Can you imagine,’ said Nikandros, ‘what your father would say if he knew?’

this feels more playful than the previous conversation, a bit lighter. both an admonishment and like a “ooooooh you’re so baaaaad >:)”

‘Yes,’ said Damen. ‘Which girl from the village was called Kyra?’ ‘They all were. Damianos. You can’t trust him.’

having a hard time reading this. my best interpretation: damen’s question is a reference to the chillest part of the previous conversation, nik’s list, in order to un-harsh the vibe. poking fun at nik for keeping a list, and poking fun at himself for having a type.

nik’s response is still pretty unchill, implying that all the people on that list are interchangeable and harmless. unlike laurent, who damen needs to get over because he’s untrustworthy and dangerous, despite also being pretty and blonde.

‘I know that.’ He finished the wine. Outside, there were hours of daylight left, and work to be done.

damen has been pretty consistently self-aware about the fact that he can’t trust laurent to be entirely honest about his intentions or plans, but he (damen) still cares for him (laurent) regardless. and he’s been living with that conflict and just kind of saying “this is fine” like the dog in that meme. this scene, i think, is nikandros basically walking into the room and trying to extinguish the fire. which nik is uniquely capable of doing, because he understands damen enough to notice the things that his friend is ignoring.

‘You’ve spent a morning with him and you’re warning me off. Just wait,’ said Damen, ‘until you’ve spent a full day with him.’ ‘You mean that he improves with time?’ ‘Not exactly,’ said Damen.

damen loves his blonde nightmare malewife so much <3 nik is going to scream into a paper bag

#capri #sam reads capri #captive prince #kings rising #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #lamen #nikandros of delpha #is that his name idk i yell at him in this one #you can see in the way i comment on male side characters like nik and jord that i get pretty tired of all the men in these books lol #damen and laurent are enough for me to deal with

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