#looking forward to the festival this weekend

[occamstfs]

Talismen: Beginnings

Nicky emerges with an arcane artifact after a bewildering trip through an impossible shop. In wishing his boyfriend was more confident in himself Nicky performs irrevocable and accidental magic upon the world, building his new form and dulling his mind.

And I'm back! Here's the first story of my planned CYOA series, a little long but I love how it turned out! I'll be posting the poll for Part two on Sunday, the 1st of December, the planned options are at the end of the story and it'll only last a day so if you want to take part be on the lookout! At any rate, hope you enjoy and happy to write for you once more! -Occam

It was barbarian weekend at the renaissance festival. Nicky was dressed as a wizard and his boyfriend, Simon, had long planned to go on theme and dress as a barbarian. Though as the day neared and Simon anxiously stared at his decidedly standard figure in the mirror, he instead opted to just throw on a cloak and call it a day. Arriving at the fair the pair, as expected of the theme, find themselves surrounded by burly men clad in kilts with faux fur draped atop chests beyond impressive.

Gawking at hot men is of course par for the course of this kinda event but Nicky can’t help but read the shame and embarrassment creeping into Simon’s expression as he takes in the festivities. When they eventually step into a tavern for a breather Nicky checks in, “Heyyy babe? Everything good? Seem kinda down-” Simon shakes his head and forces a smile, “Don’t worry about me B, I’m aces!” He tosses a wink out for good measure before pointedly changing the topic, “So what was it you said you’re looking to grab this year?”

Nicky narrows his eyes for half a moment wondering if he should push or challenge his clearly sulking boyfriend before deciding to let the sleeping dog lie for now, “Mmmm, I don’t know actually? Probably just an accessory for the costume? Oh! Or maybe some dice?” Simon’s expression changes into a more genuine smile as he grabs at Nicky’s arm and massages it, “Well here’s an idea. We’re right by the dice shop yeah? Howsabout we split up. I’ll grab us some beers and you go check out the offerings. Meet back here?” 

Wordlessly agreeing, Nicky leans in for a kiss and relaxes at Simon seemingly perking up. Heading off with a nod, Nicky exits the tavern, preventing him from seeing his boyfriend’s facade fade once more as he contemplates getting a drink or two ahead of his partner before his return from the shops. 

Under the impression that Simon has cheered back up, Nick is off to the races. Dice shop just across the way he begins his short trek when suddenly there’s a buzzing in the back of his mind. The sounds of the crowd around him eerily fade as if his ears are waterlogged, he shakes his head from the sudden discomfort and takes a moment to see if anyone else seems to be affected. Before he’s able to inspect his fellow festival-goers he is shocked to see a strange shop he’s never seen before.

Nestled in between a printing press and some soap store Nicky furrows his brow and wonders how he’s possibly missed the shop before now. He’s been coming for years and knows the layout of the festival like the back of his hand. After waiting a few seconds to see if anyone else is entering he takes a cautious step forward and trips as his body tries to take another without his intent. Nicky blushes as he bumps into a brawny barbarian who laughs him off and ruffles his hair, “Watch where yer -urp goin dude huhuh!” Nicky nods an apology and reflexively takes another backwards step towards the apparently new shop. In a sudden need for an expedited retreat from embarrassment, Nicky quickly rushes towards the door and away from the man bumped who eyes him taking a large swig from a tankard. 

He hasn’t the chance to notice that each step towards the shop that should not be there is quicker than the one that came before. In no time at all he tears open the door and is inside the quaint cluttered shop. While his eyes adjust from the bright fall day behind him, he takes in the scene as well as he can. The small space is filled with some bitter herbal scent and the air seems to crackle with something similar to static. Nicky of course attributes the strange prickle on his skin to nerves and continues browsing the curious shop.

There’s no real discernible theme to the shop, really it seems to be more of an antique store than anything else. In any normal situation Nicky would have already dipped back out, but something in the back of his mind keeps pulling him in deeper. Walking past strange dolls and stranger bottled liquids, the almost ticklish sensation continues to assail him with unconscious step forward. His spacial awareness tells him he has wandered further than should be possible but it’s almost as if he has no option to continue forward. Coming up on a curtained doorway Nicky’s hands move as if possessed to part the blinds and his eyes finally lay upon what supernatural, impossible thing must be drawing him inward. 

It would be the perfect accessory for his costume. It would be the perfect accessory to put on and never take off again. It will be perfect. It will be his. He needs it more than anything. His eyes shine with the ruby tinges reflecting off the talisman as he inches towards the pedestal it lies upon. His hand reaches towards the object of his desires and burns as the prickling sensation comes to a head. He grimaces as it turns to an almost boiling heat before his fingers touch it and the impossibly intense sensation instantly disappears. Nicky jumps due to the sudden almost atmospheric change and before recovering he almost has a heart attack as who must be the shopkeep shouts from behind him, “HELLO HELLO YOUNG NICHOLAS!” 

Nicky scrambles to hide behind the pedestal and inspect the mystery man, his vision momentarily tinged scarlet. As the twinges of whatever static sensation filled him moments ago begin to fade totally, he finds himself suddenly able to realize how strange everything about this is. He gulps as he sees a man dressed as a campy wizard adjusting his glasses, “Well it seems you found what you were looking for eh old sport?” Nicky looks down at the still shimmering necklace in his hands, stuttering incoherently as his mind races to understand. 

In the half second his eyes were off the wizardly shopkeep, the man has crept up behind once more. Now throwing an arm around Nicky he helps him to his feet and begins leading away from the curtained room, “Hup hup- Now you must be very careful with your words now young Nicholas. Do tell Simon I said hello hm?” Nicky again looks at the necklace in hand and, hanging to the rational world by a thread, inquires, “P- Pay? Did I pay for this?”  The wizardly man laughs and pats him on the back, “Oh don’t you worry ah ha ha! Hah.” The wizardly man winks, though even doing so there is an after image of a red eye staring into and through Nicky. The younger man opens his mouth to question the clearly mystic magus of the artifact and his intentions though before he gets a chance the wizard shouts.

“Do have fun at the festival my boy!” with that he brusquely pushes Nicky forward and he finds himself outdoors by a printing press and soap shop. Fearful of turning around to see there is no store there Nicky looks down to find himself wearing the talisman. Grabbing at it he finds the same sensation that filled him minutes ago, though muted. Pleasant. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he is again bumped into, this time by someone whose vision is clearly obscured by a mask, “Sho- Shorry!” Nicky sighs and apologizes, though the physical sensation and awkwardness brings him back to reality. Shaking off anxiety and pushing down whatever it is just happened he heads off to meet his boyfriend at the tavern. 

Returning to find Simon housing his third ale, Nicky quickly downs his own to distract from the strange anxiety that remains persuasive in spite of their reunion. Wishing for distraction, it comes swiftly and in short order the pair are out and about enjoying all the festivities that the faire has to offer, various sloppy meats on a stick, bird shows and jesters, and a firework show to cap it all off. The day soars by in short order and Nicky, wanting to forget about his encounter in that place that wasn't, does just that with shocking, almost supernatural, ease. In fact anything Nicky seems to desire almost falls at his feet. With but an imperceptible red shine in his eyes Nicky finds himself wanting for nothing. The same could not be said for his boyfriend.

After sobering up, his dour jealousy for the superior male form returns and as much as Simon tries to hide it from Nicky, the long day has dulled his ability to disguise anything from his boyfriend. On the long walk back to the car Nicky initially avoids bringing it up, but after an eventful day of getting just about everything he desires, he can’t help but try and get to the root of Simon’s sour attitude. “Can you just tell me what’s up babe?” Groaning as he unlocks the car door the weary man answers, “It’s nothing Nick. I’m just- UGH! I wish I wasn’t so self-concious or had actually gone to the gym or-” turning to see Nicky’s puppy dog eyes for not realzing his discomfort Simon groans and apologies, “Don’t worry it’s fine, I um, I had fun!”

Mind flashing back to the barbarian costume that Simon ultimately decided not to wear, love for his boyfriend overwhelms him and he reaches out to hold his lover’s free hand. Hidden underneath his own cloak, Nicky’s talisman flashes red as the sticky staticky sensation returns stronger than it had been even in the shop. He doesn’t whisper or even coherently think the words as he immediately drifts off to sleep in the passenger seat, but the intention is more than enough for the die to be cast. I wish Nicky had more confidence. I wish he was less self-conscious. I wish he was proud of his body. 

Subconscious wish made Nicky’s ruby red eyes remain closed as he falls into an incredibly deep sleep, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts. He squirms slightly behind the wheel as he suddenly feels warm. Mind too muddled to wallow he feels every inch of his body suddenly buzzing with energy, as if an espresso was being dripped into his veins. Looking at his sleeping boyfriend his thoughts shift immediately from self-criticism and body dysmorphia to a lustful, almost primal hunger for his mate. Nicky’s hand still burning hot on his own despite the blaring aircon, he fights the urge to bring the sleeping man’s hand to his cock as it begins to stir. 

Before they’ve even left the parking lot Simon is overwhelmed with a lust for his partner stronger than anything he has felt in some time. Hitting the open road he chews his lip to distract from his cock doing its best to pop the seam in his pants, constantly he’s choking down horny grunts and groans to prevent the sleeping Nicky from waking up. Arriving at their shared home, he struggles to gracefully exit the car with his rod standing firmer than he assumed it could. Eventually making it out, he goes to pick up his still sleepy passenger. 

With a great deal of effort, Simon successfully stills his hips and quiets his lusts to pick up his sleeping suitor. Baring the urges of his body he realizes that the task is far easier than it should be, Nicky’s not heavy but- Any further inquisition is stilled as he reflexively takes a deep breath of his sleeping lover and is promptly overwhelmed. Nicky’s floral shampoo and deodorant mix with b.o. from an unseasonably warm day in the sun and Simon doesn’t have the strength to quiet the grunt that erupts from him as his cock throbs and prods Nicky in the back. 

Eyes blearily open as the sleeping wizard stirs and stretches in the arms of his lover. “Wha? Si?” The self-conscious Simon, embarrassed at waking up his boyfriend quickly puts him down. He blushes as Nicky steadies himself on his arms, still yawning he chastises his boyfriend for letting him fall asleep, “You didn’t *ahwn* didn haf to do tha babe, *awh*” Rubbing his ruby-tinged eyes he can’t quite make out the finer details of his boyfriend, but he would swear he’s looking further up than he usually does to make eye contact. Simon waves him off, “It’s fine, I’m not even tired really.” 

Leaning down to give him a hug, Simon angles his head into Nicky’s nape he takes another deep breath, this time not even trying to mute the groan that spills forth, “MMmhm, y’know now that you’re up the night’s still young…” Nicky tilts his head before understanding as Simon’s cock throbs once more into his abdomen, shaking off the sleep Nicky’s own package begins to stir as he leads his partner into their home, “Well now that you mention it~”

Nicky starts disrobing when Simon grabs his hand, some small amount of discomfort hiding in his expression as he asks, “Would you mind if I, um, topped? This time?” Nicky tilts his head before nodding cheerily, “feeling frisky huh?” Nicky performatively poses before seemingly doing some mental math and continuing, “it’s been a minute haha! Let me just hop in the shower real quick and then we’ll have some fun!”

Already feeling like he’s overstepping Simon doesn’t mention his desire for Nicky to not shower. Something feral need within him forces forward an urge to tackle and fuck then and there but he pushes such thoughts down and waits as patiently as he can. Preparing to bottom on such a short notice, Nicky quickly strips and his eyes land upon the talisman hanging from his neck once more. Pursing his lips he goes to take the necklace off, though as his fingers clasp the chain he shivers as it sends a sensitive pang searing through him. Why would he take it off. Feeling immediately more alert and needy, Nicky swiftly hops in the shower to prepare for some fun.

Outside the bathroom his boyfriend taps his foot anxiously, sending a deep, impatient echo through the room. Irritated at the sound he stands and quickly disrobes himself. After getting the cloak off, the room is filled with slight groans of effort as he struggles to get off his shirt. It’s almost stuck to his skin? Probably from sweat he thinks but each time he wrenches it up it only frees about an inch more room. His irritation prevents him from noticing how it decidedly hugs new weight on his chest or cuts into apparently thicker biceps.

The sound of the shirt straining fills the room and he grinds his teeth as the prospect of being stuck in the top any longer is unbearable. His hands stretch longer and strain shifts to tearing as he rips the tunic off with a grunt. Exposed to the open air is a sweaty body far more impressive than when the man struggled to get ready that morning. Looking at the torn shirt in his hand he blushes as his eyes trail up his forearms and stare at a bicep that’s begging to be flexed. 

Stepping out wearing only a towel and his talisman, Nicky smiles as he stares at Simon appreciating his arms, “Couldn’t have waited for me to put on the show huh?” Simon turns to see his boyfriend drop the towel and he loses control. Any sign of intelligence in his eyes vacates as he manhandles the man onto the bed. For his part Nicky assumes this to be roleplay, almost giggling from delight as the typically meek man ragdolls him onto the bed. Drool leaks from Simon's maw as he grunts and groans, struggling to free the throbbing package still trapped in his shorts.

Being straddled, Nick takes the chance to carefully observe his boyfriend’s body, appreciating the view that he seldom gets. For the life of him he doesn’t understand why Si got so worked up, with arms like that and a chest- or? When did he start working out actually? Nicky frees a hand to touch the man’s powerful torso and Simon shivers, reflexively rutting into him as his cock growing even harder sends the sound of fabric straining through the room. He’s decidedly firmer, heavier. Nicky sees hair begin to grow on the man’s chest and his mind for half a second hears the echoing laughter of a man he wished to forget. Though there’s no time to think as Simon goes for the tried and true method of just ripping his clothes off.

Eyes wide with wonder, Nicky watches as biceps bulge larger with each tug, shoulder span expanding as his hands yank and tear. His mouth falls open as he sees a cock clearly larger than the one that he knows Simon to have. Gulping as he realizes he’s agreed to take this dick that stretches up to his sternum, Nicky blushes and Simon smirks as he leans down to snarl or whisper something in his lover’s ear. 

Nicky feels pre dripping onto his chest as the larger man leans down, his arms land to either side of the man exposing pits dripping with sweat and just before he speaks or growls, the talisman flashes red. Eyes focused on each other neither man sees some shard of light go from the charm into Simon. His eyes roll back and close before he falls down onto Nicky. Immediately concerned for his love, Nicky struggles to shift the man off him and call for help before he hears Simon begin to snore. His body feels like a furnace atop Nicky’s, a cock still erect continues to throb into his stomach and gush pre in between the two of them. He feels patches of hairs thicker than Simon typically carries scratching him. Nicky tries to force the sleeping oaf off him before quickly tuckering himself out.

It was a long day after all. Nicky yawns as he sees the back of the man lying atop him. It’s not right, too wide, too heavy. His ass is not that large his- ughh. With another shove to wake or move Simon, Nicky feels weariness truly overtake him and his scarlet eyes flutter. The sleeping man moves his arms to hug Nicky tight and the seemingly smaller man has no recourse but to give way, his sides tickled by patches of pit hair dripping with sweat. Nick’s head tips forward a few times as he struggles to stay awake though the sound of his lover’s new snores lull him to sleep.

In the morning Nicky wakes to find himself free from Simon’s grasp, though the man’s sweat stains leave a clear outline around him on the bed and his torso remains sticky from pre. His head aches with a hangover though after the faintest wish that it end, so it does. Groaning he gets to his feet and heads off to shower once more, en route he finds a note from Si: “heyyy babe woke up w so much energy!!! gonna go for a run or to the gym idk :) c u soon thooooo<3”  Nicky  rubs sleep from his eyes and reads the short note a few times over, “hmmm. Weird.” Shrugging he goes about his day as usual, cleaning up, brewing coffee, doing the crossword. Something in the back of his mind says he usually does this with Simon, but that can’t be right? He’d never want to do that. His eye twitches as unbeknownst to him, with each step further away his love has truly begun to change from his unintentional intentions into a man who will never feel shame again.

Simon doesn’t know why he feels so compelled to get up and at ‘em. For years he has given himself ultimatums, scheduled gym sessions, dieted and done his best, but there has not been a moment in his life where he has felt more drive, more purpose than his flight from their shared bed. It’s like he’s a new man with nothing on his mind but getting some meat on his bones. He barely had the wherewithal to leave a note for his lover, as is clear by the lack of eloquence.

Nor is that the only aspect askew from Simon’s typical self. As his anxiety at being perceived shirtless may suggest, the man is always conscious of how he looks. Rarely does a day go by without Simon giving himself a painstaking once over in front of the mirror, be it applying makeup or designing an outfit. To simply throw on a tshirt and leave without even rinsing his face is anathema, and yet after doing just that and throwing on his boyfriend’s sneakers, finding his own far too tight, he’s out the door well before the sun begins to rise. 

His feet fall heavy on the sidewalk as his shabby outfit soon enough finds itself straining. Grimacing at the constriction it becomes clear that these clothes are far too tight and getting tighter with each step it seems. Nevertheless he presses onward until there is stinging pain from his feet struggling against their binds. While he’s been content to ignore or misinterpret the sounds of his own tshirt beginning to fray, as well as the pain that such constriction entails, he doesn’t want to ruin Nicky’s shoes. And so scrambling for somewhere to sit down he hops on a bench and begins to struggle with the laces.

Simon’s toes struggle against frontal fabric while the shoes’ tongues press into laces that simply must be cutting into the tops of his feet. Simon’s mind is clearly slowing down as he takes a few seconds too long to simply watch his feet expand beyond containment before, with a gasp, pain jogs him into action. At first he goes to untie them before he’s unable to recall precisely how to do that. Immediately switching to the task already begun by his growing feet he reaches in and simply tears each shoe in two.

His arms bulge with the effort involved in splitting them in twain, biceps that never were begin to appear and push his short sleeves to their limit as new muscle presses onto his chest. Looking down at his hands, decidedly more masc, the man can do nothing but observe his new form as it begins to extol an untenable price on his mind. With each new manly aspect so too will the cogs of his mind continue to slow.

Looking at his boyfriend's shredded shoes, Simon is immediately guilty though he releases a contented sigh as his feet flex free from their confines. His newly one track mind is then thrown off-course and his eyes narrow at the feet bare on cold concrete. They were not simply chafing or something reasonable of the sort, they are too big. They’re larger than his shoes and seem to still be growing larger. And wait- Why did he leave the house without wearing socks!? 

Simon shakes his head to try and focus on one question at a time, though before peace comes there is a searing pain from his legs as his changes continue upward. Calves burst from his bony legs while athletic shorts are clearly strained by thighs that any man would kill for. Thick, perhaps barbarous, curls begin to issue forth from any pore exposed as he clutches with his newly thicker hands into muscle still hardening, still pumping larger. 

Grunting loudly, Simon falls off the bench as ever spreading changes spread towards his glutes. His pert ass hardens and grows to a size that would attract attention no matter what he wears to try and hide it under. His whole lower body cramps with growth as his legs extend, wider feet scratching into dirt as calves and thighs lengthen while his pulse continues to race from the shock of this impossible transformation. Struggling with the new weight of self, his rougher hands pressed into the ground his duller mind is unable to reconcile what is happening to him with reality. The sound of blood rushing through his ears mutes the world around him and at the slightest lapse he simply forgets.

“Why am I on my hands?” Through bleary eyes he stares at hands too wide, fingers longer and thicker. He trails upward and almost scoffs as he sees forearms and biceps not nearly as defined as they should be, after another moment mouth agog he guffaws as he presumes to have put one and one together, “Oh ahuhuh- I must be workin’ out here?” Licking his lips as he is filled with an otherworldly surge of energy, Simon gets started following one of the most common impulses that is to evermore make itself at home in his mind. He starts doing some push ups.

Immediately do his biceps burn with effort as they put on weight at an impossible rate. Simon grunts with the effort of taking the wheel and commanding his body to be more powerful. His heart pounds in his chest as, just like every piece of fabric before, his shirt quickly gives way outright to the progress of growth. To the strengthening of self. With each dip towards the earth his pecs come closer to touching the cold soil before bouncing as his powerful arms rocket him back upwards with precision. 

Simon continues exercising until his arms burn as numb as his new, slower mind. Not only does muscle continue to pack on with every punch upwards, but his impressive form is just as quickly patterned with burgeoning body hair. Sweat drips down onto a chest rapidly peppered with curls and steams off a back which holds hair slowly rising from his lightly furred ass. Sweaty steam trails upwards from widening shoulders and bulky traps into the cold autumn air as heavy breath mists from behind gnashing teeth. Nowhere does the hair grow thicker than under his powerful arms as a jungle of hair grows outward from his pits and sends distinct trails of sweat down his trunk like biceps and across his hulking pecs.

Body hair and brawn are not the only decidedly improved aspects of the man either. Just as he continues to pack on muscle with each thrust upwards, so too is his crotch pulled closer to the ground with every descent. His briefs struggle against a package rapidly growing beyond any tenable containment. Balls bulge larger to supply his impressive form with the hormones required for the growth he demands of it, pubes cascading upward and outward as they strive to assert that Simon’s masculinity shall never be in question. 

So too does his cock throb and push against the confines of his underwear enough to be plainly visible. Not only from growing erect as his heart races, but from expanding to be the most impressive rod either he or his lover have ever seen. With the slightest glance down to see his new cock, he smirks and shivers as he imagines topping Nicky with that beast. 

This of course sends such a powerful surge of lust through him that the bulging cock immediately bursts free from the briefs outright, leaving him clad in nothing. His cock, now free, drips pre onto the earth as he continues working out a few moments longer in the buff, plain for anyone to see were the streets not thankfully empty. Guffawing to himself after thrusting his new cock into the ground a few times in the process of pushing up, Simon’s new bovine mind eventually realizes he’s fully nude and public and quickly stumbles to his feet. “Oh shit huhuh-” He stands and scratches the back of his head and tries to plan some form of escape, in the process he flexes his bicep and can’t help but smirk as he sees the veins bulging along its impressive length.

Feeling his still turgid cock bounce with every slight movement, he continues laughing before looking down to see shredded clothes scattered at his colossal feet. Seeing the pile of clothes outgrown, Simon does everything short of drooling as he for the first time takes in his new form. Massive hands trail across padded muscle as the urgency of covering his dick fades from his mind. 

When his sweaty pecs begin to glimmer from the rising sun he is immediately thrown back into awareness of his active criminal behavior. Checking the coast is clear once more, he pauses for a moment wondering what the big deal is about public nudity before being chastised by some internal Nicky. Simon turns back to the bench and laughs dumbly as he sees his gym bag lying discarded.

Pouncing like an animal, he quickly tears into and retrieves shorts that will surely leave nothing to the imagination. Nevertheless he throws them on and grimaces as they tightly hug his ass and package. Seeing shirts thrown to the side he scratches his face and his face quivers as he feels stubble grace it for the first time. He purses his lips just to feel a moustache scratch his nose and absolutely disregards the idea that he needs a shirt. Why would he cover up anything beyond what is necessary. Surely the world would be more than grateful at the chance to see his form he asserts, bouncing his pecs and chuckling as he does so.

Finding himself with nothing to do besides appreciate how built he truly is now, Simon uses his phone as a mirror to inspect every angle and uses whatever sparing space in his mind to keep track of the best ones. The massive man shivers as the sweaty steam rising from him briefly glimmers red, making it clear that Nicky’s will has been enacted on his lover and announcing the fulfillment of his will. Nevermore will he be self-conscious, quite the opposite in fact. As morning commuters begin their grind many offer a passing glance to the by all accounts himbo drooling at his own reflection, and never does one escape without receiving a wink or flex from the man.

When a pair of jocks eye him with jealousy on the way to class he holds back laughter, the idea that not twenty-four hours ago he was just like them, smaller even, is inconceivable to the new man. Though to be fair, much now lies beyond the realm of conceivability for the man. He thinks about offering some tips to the pair though refrains as something needles him far, far in the back of his simple mind. There was something he was supposed to do yeah?

Furrowing his brow in as deep a concentration as he can muster, Simon’s eyes close and his hands clench at his head as he tries to think. Laundry? Huhuh as if- Meal prep? Then why would he be out here? Simon starts groaning in frustration and tapping his larger, still bare, foot on the sidewalk. Ephemeral ideas he might have latched onto in a life before this one drift past before he gives up and sits down, crossing his arms. The bench creaks under his new weight as he almost petulantly reclines, head back and eyes blank.

Suddenly he jolts up and almost hits himself for not doing the obvious straight away. Obviously Nicky’ll know what to do! His clumsy hands struggle to get his phone from the pocket of his shorts and he smiles at the lock screen, a picture of Nicky being smothered by his massive arms. Simon then squints and bites his tongue in concentration as now even this requires some degree of effort. Quickly enough he dials up his beau and almost vibrates from the excitement of hearing his voice. 

Back at home Nicky is playing a game though squeezes the phone in his headset as he sees Simon calling, “Hey baby? What’s up, early start today huh?” Would that he had a tail to wag, Simon laughs and answers, “ha uhhh, yeah somethin’ like that- uhhhhh. Yo did you uh, know what I was plannin’ on doing this morning?” Nicky tilts his head, for a moment he swears something is off with his boyfriend’s voice. Then his eyes go blank and his vision flickers red before, no it’s always been like that? Nicky swears something about his long hours at the gym over the years made him drop a few octaves but that’s neither here nor there. 

Nicky shakes off this small stupor, “Yeah Si, you said you were going to the gym no?” an eye twitches, “y’know, like usual?” Excitement once more sets fire in Simon’s veins as he nods and laughs at himself for forgetting such a simple routine, “Ahhh what would I do without you babe huhuh!” He kisses his cellphone and winks at a woman walking her dog who was giving him a side-eye. “Well you have fun dude! Gonna go get a MASSIVE pump in!” Nicky wryly grins and rolls his eyes, “you too, you too b, see you later-” With that he gets back to the game, intentionally ignoring the crimson buzzing at the back of his mind as both men set off to tackle the obstacles of the day, totally unaware of the lives they are to unintentionally change evermore. 

Potentialities: (Poll on Sunday the First at 12 AM CST)

Gonna keep this one limited as a test run! If you have any suggestions or ideas for the next poll please shout! Happy to get real wacky with it if there’s an interest!

Nicky Routes:

Grow up you asshole: Getting flamed in game Nicky’s clapback  teaches a gamer to be a real man (Bear/Dilf TF) 

Man you always play him: Well intentioned words bring his gamer friend far closer in mind, body, and spirit to his favorite character- Fictional character TF (Would prompt another poll for sure, haven’t done one of these before but if there’s a demand we’ll see!)

Simon Routes: (More standard faire jock/himbo tfs)

Sorry for the backwash bro: Accidentally sharing a drink causes his himbofication to spread 

Let’s get pumped: Simon finds work as a personal trainer and is far more effective than he has any right to be 

[kaiyonohime]

Cherry blossoms have started blossoming!

So I wandered down to the local shrine and took some pictures.  And conveniently walked the baby to sleep.  

[meevling]

Writing my thoughts here because I have no interest in creating a big scene and I know my audience on tumblr is small and wholesome but I desire to say some of my thoughts out loud. 

I am a queer creator. I make jewellery for a living. I’m in my first year of business of doing this full time and I am struggling as all new businesses do, but I’ve been applying to vendor shows that I think suit my work and doing my best to keep at it! 

So this June, I applied for a show in a local town. This show was made to be an inclusive pride-type event. Now, why I don’t say it is strictly pride is for several reasons. One, I know the people organizing the event and they are not part of the queer community. They did not feel comfortable running a pride event because they didn’t want to try and speak over queer people. A second reason is because here in Canada it is Indigenous History month. Now this town is undeniably built on the genocide and displacement of indigenous people. This is very important to acknowledge and talk about it. So these organizers were hoping to allow this event to branch out into not just pride, but also discussing diversity and lifting up marginalized people from all walks of life. Because of this, they advertised it as a celebration of diversity, instead of a pride event, simply hoping to open up more safe spaces for discussion of acceptance in our otherwise very white, very conservative community. 

I was very excited about this event. I am asexual, as is my girlfriend. We were both going to be running a booth together, me selling my jewellery, and her selling her book as well as books by other local queer authors. 

However, our local pride community saw this advertising, saw its vague wording, and immediately assumed that it was because they didn’t want to rub the more conservative locals the wrong way. I’m not here to say that this is completely wrong, nor am I here to discredit this concern. I also had a similar thought when seeing the first advertisements. I still believe that some mention of pride could even be added, but after speaking to the people running the event, I do also understand their feelings. They were also open with me about the fact that they would happily help groups such as this pride group to run events and organize a march. They had tried to reach out to the group but hadn’t received much communication back. 

Now this group has decided to protest the event. Instead of trying to reach out to the organizers and discuss with them the concerns they had, they went ahead and organized a protest/march on the same day at the same time and publicly made it clear that they disapproved of this event being wary of calling itself a pride event. Because of this, a large majority of the vendors have dropped out and now it looks as though the event will be cancelled altogether. 

I am absolutely defeated by this news. As an asexual, I have hesitated to try and involve myself in pride after so much erasure and gatekeeping that I’ve experienced. I’ve often been made to feel as though I don’t belong. With this being my first attempt at stepping into a more forefront involvement in the community, only to have it be cancelled by the very people who it was supposed to help bolster, simply makes me feel as though I will never be able to fit in. 

What frustrates me even more is the fact that it just feels as though the homophobes have won and they didn’t even have to lift a finger. This was going to be the first real pride I have experienced in this small town, and now it probably won’t happen. The goal of this event was to be INCLUSIVE and it feels so much like the gatekeeping I’ve already experienced that it’s being protested for this. Should pride not be about inclusivity? Should we not be able to celebrate marginalized groups from all walks of life? Why can’t the two coexist and help bring those together who have so often felt out of place and unwelcome here? 

I dunno. I understand why they were upset, I understand that these people are people who have had to fight tooth and nail for acceptance and inclusivity wherever they go and so often feel the need to start things with a fight, I’m just so tired of having to fight my own community. If we worked together, we could have created a wonderful event. I wish the pride group all the luck with their march and protest. I hope it goes well, I hope they are able to show people that queer people are allowed to exist as well, I just wish that this all didn’t come at the expense of other queer people.

[tye-wig-music]

“In some circumstances they [intoxicants] are responsible for the futile loss of large amounts of energy that might have been used to improve the lot of mankind.”

- Freud, Civilisation and its Discontents

love him or hate him freud was spitting facts here

[heesdreamer]

HALF RETURN

PAIRING ➩ jay x reader

SUMMARY ➩ your small towns yearly fall festival was your biggest pride and joy but getting your friends to help volunteer was nearly impossible. luckily one of them was stupid enough and too secretly inlove with you to help himself from offering.

WC ➩ 15.6k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Surprise! It’s been a long time since I’ve sat down and wrote something that I actually enjoyed but this was a lot of fun to write and hopefully the start of me coming back on here in the future. It’s not my most exciting or hot and heavy piece of work but if you’re looking for a light fluffy small town read then I really hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. Happy fall everybody and thanks for your patience and support as always. NOT AT ALL PROOFREAD

The cold bite of fall had always been your favorite time of year, finding it easiest to romanticize both its pros and its cons.

Which was something you did with just about everything and everyone you ever encountered, making them larger than life as a character in your story before they were leaving and their starring chapter was turning the page with them.

So it was your favorite time of year for many reasons, the realistic ones like the fact it was the slowest months of work and you got more paid time off than you probably deserved, but also because it was so terribly romantic in all the sniffly nose and itchy sweater goodness that came along with it.

That’s why it was no surprise to the people around you that you were constantly surrounding yourself with fall activities and hobbies. Your small town didn’t offer much, mainly known for biking through the winding roads of the mountains and the sleek dark concrete that always seemed to be wet because of the constant rainfall. It did, however, have a yearly fall festival that you had been volunteering at since you were in middle school.

You’d always heard people growing up who talked about wanting to get out of your hometown, dreamily describing big cities they’d seen on vacations and how much different the world was past the mountains and trees.

You never felt the longing to escape something this beautiful and rare and while you figured the world outside was as amazing as they described, you preferred where you had grown up. It was quiet and easy to memorize, everybody knew everybody and treated each other like family so nobody stole from others or treated them poorly. It was easy to love and, in your mind, easy to stay in as you grew old and had your own family.

Despite your own strong feelings towards your hometown, your friends probably wanted to escape it more than the average person.

You’d spent more than a few dozen hangouts laying in various basements across old couches and listening to them talk about their dreams, dreams that would take them hundreds of miles away from this town and hundreds of miles away from you.

That didn’t stop you from excitedly rushing over to the assigned hangout house for the weekend, your bike tires going so fast they were kicking up mud onto your bare legs as you pushed your thighs past your limit to peddle.

You were hurriedly hopping off once you caught sight of the familiar house, leaning your bike against the chipped paint on the side of it and quickly kicking off your dirty shoes as you greeted the mother of one of your best friends. She wasn’t at all thrown off by your quick entry or the fact you were disappearing into the basement before she could respond or tell you to clean off your dirty legs, more than used to your group of friends coming and going as the sun set.

The sounds of your pounding footsteps didn’t even grab the attention of the group of people hanging out in the basement, only one looking up to watch you as you stumbled in.

“I have great news.” You announced with a large smile, hands extended towards them to really drive forward the importance of your words .

Jay, one of your lifelong friends and the one who had watched you as you entered, raised his eyebrows in question and sat up slightly, a direct opposite of the others who didn’t even bother to acknowledge you yet.

“Mrs. Potter broke her leg.” You squeaked out the news and clenched your hands into excited fist, your smile only faltering when Sunghoon was turning to look at you with a confused glare and Heeseung stopped plucking at the guitar strings he was tuning to give you a look of bewilderment. The room fell silent and you dropped your hands against your sides in upset.

“I know she can be a bit of a nag but is that really something to celebrate?” Jungwon had an eyebrow cocked as he looked at you finally but you could see a hint of amusement on his face.

You were dramatically groaning and sulking your way over to the couch, flopping down onto the spot next to Jay and failing to fully notice the way he was tensing up for a second and then awkwardly clearing his throat when your leg brushed against his. You wrote it off as him being weary of the mud on your legs getting onto his pants, giving him a quick sorry glance before scooting over a tad.

“Of course I’m not happy about her broken leg.” You shot Jungwon a glare for his purposefully wrong assumption and he gave you a smile, eyebrows raising and hiding behind his bangs for a second. “But since she’s injured, may she heal quickly, that means there’s an open job at the fair.”

The finality of the news drew out immediate reactions from your friends. Presenting in the form of an eye roll from Jungwon as he immediately lost interest in the conversation, a disbelieving laugh from Sunghoon and an apologetic smile from Heeseung.

“Sorry Y/N but I helped you last year.” He was shaking his head and plucking at the strings again, happy he had an excuse and the others didn’t.

“That was six years ago.” You deadpanned at him, remembering all too well considering how terrible of a volunteer the tall boy had been. It wasn’t long before he was being asked to step down by the couple who ran it so his position could be filled by somebody who didn’t let the popcorn machine overflow or hand out free prizes to any kid that sniffled and gave him their best begging puppy eyes.

He just shrugged at your correction and your frown deepened despite the fact you’d already figured they’d say no considering they’d been doing so for almost a decade. You had hoped the guilt from Mrs. Potters injury would have been enough to convince at least one of the four boys.

“You’ve been asking us for all this time and we’ve never accepted. Why not ask Jake from the soccer team, doesn’t he have the hots for you?” Sunghoon was speaking in a bored tone as he relayed the information, not paying enough attention to notice the way you froze up and stared at him in confusion.

“Dude…” Heeseung trailed off as he shot his friend an annoyed stare, stretching out his leg so he could kick the boys knee in a form of scolding.

“Jake likes me?” You sat up straighter and stared at the oldest boy, trusting his word over the other threes. “Like Jake Sim? How long have you guys known about this?”

They exchanged guilty looks between themselves and you turned to look at the boy closest to you for answers instead.

Jay had always been the most mature out of your little group, even when you were all kids pushing each other around on the playground. He seemed like the oldest at times even though Heeseung took that role, strikingly alert and calm when situations caused everyone else to panic. You definitely weren’t the closest though friendship wise considering he wasn’t the biggest talker, more likely to stand in the corner and take small sips of his drink than actually engage in your loud conversations.

You always figured this was because he didn’t have any friends outside of your circle. The other boys had some more casual buddies, take Jake Sim for example, but Jay pretty much stuck to himself if he wasn’t with the four of you.

He had a certain energy that you weren’t used to seeing growing up, something about him being different than the others and that was including you and your friends. Even his look stood out, jet black hair with piercing eyes that only looked more intimidating considering he primarily wore dark clothes and a hint of smudged eyeliner.

Most people in town, and school growing up, found his presence overly intimidating and you’d heard your fair share of whispers about him and your group of friends.

His attempts to be seen as scary and keep people away from him never was turned onto you and you’d dealt with a lot of teasing from the others boy, making fun of Jay for having a soft spot for you or pouting that he let you do things he always refused to do for them. He’d glare at them until they shut up and moved on or he’d offer a soft shrug, followed by a hint of a smile when you giggled lightly at his lack of denial.

That’s why you were turning to face him now with wide and begging eyes, leaning against his side and wrapping your hand around his hoodie clothed arm to make sure his attention was on you, despite the fact it always seemed to be anyways.

“Did you hear Jake saying he likes me Jay?” Your voice was sickeningly sweet and you could hear the other boys groaning in disgust at your attempts to butter up their friend.

It didn’t seem to be working this time considering he was just staring at you with a blank expression, gaze dropping to where your hand was holding him for just a second like he was considering something before he was shrugging softly. You pouted again at his lack of response despite knowing your friend was a man of few words.

“He wouldn’t tell Jay anyways doofus, he knows that he-“ Heeseung was laughing as he started to speak and explain something that was abruptly cut off by Jungwon aggressively chucking the magazine he was flipping through in his direction.

The older boy let out a yelp and held his hands up in surrender. You looked back at Jay confused and waiting for him to fill in the blanks, even more lost when you noticed him glaring at Heeseung with a slightly fearful expression under the anger.

You suddenly remembered you were still holding onto his arm and you gently squeezed it to try and bring his attention for you, grateful it worked when he was awkwardly meeting your gaze again and sighing softly. You cocked an eyebrow in silent conversation as you waited for him to tell you what they were being suspicious about, grateful that in the background Heeseung had started to strum at his guitar again and the other two begun to talk about nonsense.

“Do you think Jake likes me enough to help me with the fair?” Your voice was a low whisper as you stared at him, leaning in slightly and missing the way his jaw clenched at your question.

“You know me and Jake aren’t friends Y/N, I wouldn’t know anything about it.” He was overwhelmingly glad your friends weren’t paying attention anymore because he knew for a fact his voice had taken on that extra sweet tone he only used with you, meeting your volume and also whispering softly despite the fact you both didn’t need to.

You were pouting again and not moving away from his face, so busy in your thoughts you once again failed to notice the way his eyes were dropping down to your pushed out lips that were closer to his than usual.

He knew you were just being dramatic, something you commonly were regardless of the situation, but he couldn’t stand seeing the expression on your face or the disappointment in your eyes. He was taking in a big breathy sigh, getting your attention again as you squeezed his arm and gave him another wide eyed and hopeful look.

“But you don’t need to ask him anyways because I’ll volunteer with you.”

You were breaking out into a wide smile at the same exact time the other boys in the room were making shocked and angry exclamations, being drowned out by your excited shriek, you closed the distance between you and Jay and leapt forward to give him a hug, pressing his back against the armrest of the couch and practically falling into his lap out of excitement.

“Dude what are you talking about? What about band practice?” Sunghoon’s annoyed tone was seeping through your happiness and piercing it with a knife of realization causing you to sit up slightly and look down at Jay in confusion.

“He’s right, what are you going to do about practice?” You were pouting at him again but slightly above him now considering you were still halfway in his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck. You watched the way his ears were turning red the longer you stayed in that position but you assumed he was just flustered from his plans colliding. “I can ask Jake if you’re busy it’s really no big deal.”

You heard a pained grunt from behind you and turned to see Sunghoon cradling his knee with a hurt expression, you followed his line of sight to see Jungwon glaring viciously at him.

“Sunghoon’s an idiot Y/N don’t listen to him, Jay is completely free to help you out with the fair.” Jungwon had taken on a sickeningly sweet tone and your nose scrunched up in disgust at the sound of it, looking between the four boys suspiciously.

None of them were meeting your gaze full out but you tried to ignore how weird they were all being about the situation, more excitement creeping back up at the confirmation you’d have help with the fair, especially since it was Jay who was miles more mature than the rest of them. You were squeezing him back into a hug with another happy squeal and he returned it weakly, eyeing Jungwon viciously over your shoulder.

——

You’d spend most of the following Monday morning getting ready for the first day of setting up the fair, tightly wrapping your scarf around your neck and settling your ear muffs just loose enough so you’d still be able to hear while avoiding the cold chill as it got later in the day.

Your morning hot chocolate was abandoned on the kitchen sink when you heard the soft bells chiming from outside your house, typically occupied by numerous other louder ringings but you knew who it was immediately judging by its gentle sound.

Looking out your living room window confirmed your suspicions seeing Jay sitting on his bike at the end of your drive way and staring down at his hands. He was picking at his fingers, a habit he’d adapted after the callouses from his guitar started to form more often.

Your fist was banging on the thick glass roughly, a smile on your face building when he jump slightly on his bike seat and looked up towards your direction with a startled expression. You waved at him and his shoulders released a little bit of tension, turning your hand over and fanning it towards you, silently instructing him to come inside.

He was hesitating for a second before you saw him gently lowering his bike down onto your front yard, bouncing in your stride as you went to open the door for him.

“I figured you’d want some cocoa before you were stuck in the cold all day.” You were quickly explaining your invitation inside to him as soon as you swung the wooden door open, he’d barely gotten up the steps and gave you a surprised look before nodding swiftly in agreement and coming inside.

You walked back to the kitchen with him in tow and tried to ignore the weird nervous feeling building in your stomach. You’d been alone with Jay countless times so you hadn’t thought much about it but the more you reflected back on it the more you realized you’d mainly sat in awkward silence for short durations waiting for the others to come back and ease the tension.

Pouring the steaming hot chocolate into a new mug for him, you told yourself to not take it personally.

Jay had always been on the quieter side and you knew it had nothing to do with you, as far as you were concerned. This was confirmed a bit when you glanced over your shoulder to see him awkwardly standing against the wall near the doorway, watching you as you poured the drinks but quickly diverting his attention around the room when you made eye contact.

You laughed softly, handling the hot handles carefully as you turned slowly, nudging your chin towards the living room so he understood where you were heading as you walked past him.

“Thank you again for helping me Jay.” You were speaking in a low voice as you sat on the couch, leaning over to hand him his drink considering he sat an entire cushion away from you. “I know you didn’t necessarily want to.”

He wasn’t responding out loud, just give you a soft nod of his head and looking down at the cup of hot chocolate awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs around the mugs handle and shifting in his spot on the couch. A frown was instinctively forming on your face at his silence and you wondered for a second if you should make up some excuse to free him of his responsibilities, maybe tell him you’d actually found somebody else to help out.

But then he was glancing at you and the corner of his mouth turned up just enough for you to notice and you felt better, a wide grin breaking out on yours.

“Oh.” Your eyes widened suddenly as you remembered something you’d gotten for him as a thank you, quickly telling him you’d be right back and rushing up the stairs to your bedroom, leaving him on the couch.

You returned swiftly with the fabric in your hands to see him sitting tensely in the same spot, waiting to see what you’d gotten so excited about. His eyebrows raised when you approached holding the long string of material and you smiled more at his clear hesitance, sitting directly next to him on the couch and turning to face him.

“What is that thing?” He was questioning in a low tone but you could hear the humor in the question, clearly amused by the monstrosity you were holding.

“I’ve taken up crocheting recently.” You explained to him with a smile, stretching out the clothing in your hands to show him exactly what it was you were gifting him. “I figured I’d make you a scarf so you didn’t get too cold helping me. It even matches mine.”

Your excitement was clear despite the fact it clearly didn’t match your store bought white scarf. The black fabric was lumpy and awkward, random strings sticking out in places they weren’t meant to be and barely forming a straight enough line to properly be a scarf.

Jay couldn’t have cared less about how the gift looked, he was flushed in the face just due to the fact you’d chosen to make him it in the first place. He figured you would have done it for whoever agreed to help you and he imagined you’d be gifting them all a lot of hand made things if the hobby managed to actually stick, but your smile when you shifted towards him more and indicated you wanted to put it on him was a gift enough in itself.

He watched your face closely as you delicately wrapped it around his neck, crossing the ends so it wouldn’t slip off easily or open up.

You were meeting his gaze for half a second and giving him a proud smile before a bright flash from the side of you was startling you both, jumping away from each other and widening the distance you hadn’t even realized was closing. You turned your head quickly to see what had made the interruption and a low groan pushed past your lips when you saw your mother standing there with her polaroid camera.

“I’m sorry! You two just looked so cute matching together.” She was giving you a sheepish grin as she poked her head out from behind the blocky camera, eyes teasing and glancing between both of you.

You glanced at Jay to see he had completely tensed up again, jaw tight as he avoided looking at you and stared towards your mother before going back to picking at his rough hands.

She wasn’t exactly wrong about the two of you matching, the scarves being the main point of focus but it didn’t help that Jay was wearing his typical head to two black clothing and you’d gone for a lightly colored white and tan pallet today, so perfectly opposite it almost looked intentional.

“It’s nice to see you as always Jay, it’s been a while since you’ve come around.” Your mothers tone was sweet as she spoke to him but you could see the curiosity on her face, causing you to quickly stand from the couch and butt in.

“Thanks mom but we really have to get going, can’t be late on the first day.” You gave her a tight smile and instinctively reached your hand backwards for Jay to take it.

It was left empty for a few seconds and you glanced over your shoulder to see him staring at it with confusion before he was setting his untouched mug down and clasping his rough hand in yours. You tugged him forward and he made a small shocked noise as you dragged him out of the house, listening to your mom call out wishing the two of you good luck with the fair.

You both stayed silent as he picked his bike up from off the wet grass and waited for you to unlock yours, your hands moving fast to switch the numbers and remove it from the rickety old piece of wood your mother called a handrail despite barely being stable enough for a twig to lean on it let alone a human.

Suddenly you felt an emotion you rarely did, embarrassment flooding through you as your neck got hotter and hotter under your scarf.

You found yourself wondering what Jay thought of the state of your house even though all the boys had been there over a dozen times and you’d never once considered picking up the messes your mom made in a rush or raking the pile of leaves and twigs surrounding your old porch.

Almost everyone in town was around the same class in terms of wealth and status, with the small exception of families like Heeseung’s who could afford weekly maintenance on their yards and a fully finished basement with little risk of flooding, but he was very generous with his extra space and would slyly cover lunches and treats without making a big deal about it.

You’d surprisingly never been to Jay’s house and you weren’t sure the other boys had been either.

He always insisted on walking home or being dropped off in the center of town claiming he had a ride on the way without giving too much information. You’d see Sunghoon, who was your usual driver, push it a few times but the uncomfortable look on the older boys face made you take a mental note to not pry for more details yourself.

You sighed when the lock finally popped up and glanced up just enough to see him still watching you patiently, not bothering to make snide remarks about your speed or rush you like your other friends might’ve.

“Sorry about my mom.” You started speaking once you pushed your bike over to where he was standing with his, both of you rolling them out of the driveway and down onto the empty street. The potholes were full of the brown rain water and specs of gravel here and there made it a bit risky to go too fast on your bike but you mounted it anyways.

He didn’t reply directly other than a shake of his head that indicated he saw no issue with it but the silence was killing you and you waited until his bike was steadily riding next to yours before speaking again.

“She’s just so overbearing sometimes and it’s totally embarrassing oh don’t worry she won’t do anything with that photo, I’m not even sure the camera fully works I think it’s just for the effect.” You were definitely rambling but it wasn’t out of character for you to be filling silence with nonsense and excited monologues.

“Your mom is nice.” He was talking suddenly and it indirectly cut off your next stream of verbal thoughts, surprised at the fact he had actually added to the conversation instead of just giving you soft nods and listening. “Atleast from what I can tell.”

You were staring at him with your mouth parted but only for a few seconds so you didn’t run into anything, nodding your head and swapping roles as you fell silent. You ignored the urge to ask about his own mother and turned a corner a little too sharply, thankfully not enough to fall into the dirty street but it still brought a small laugh out of him and you smiled in response.

“It’ll be really easy on the first day.” It was better to switch the line of conversation to something less invasive so you could avoid embarrassing yourself further and he went back to nodding as you spoke, riding slightly in front of you with his hands tightening and unclenching around the handle bars.

You mentally decided you’d learn how to make knitted gloves next.

——

The day thankfully went as simply as you had promised it would considering there wasn’t too much to do yet with the booths just starting to get set up as vendors picked their locations for the year and unpacked their truckloads of goodies.

You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you dragged Jay around, equally as happy about the fair finally happening and the fact you’d managed to have a friend to share it with after so many years of having to keep the excitement to yourself.

Jay was a very good sport about the muddy grass and the chaotic setting of the field that was always used, much more patient with you and your high energy than the other boys would’ve been. You kept your hand locked around his elbow as you pulled him from vendor to vendor, introducing each familiar face to him and giving him a quick rundown on what they sold and where they came from.

You loved the fair so much because it meant you got to see new faces and hear stories about the towns neighboring yours for once, a large amount of the attendees coming from other places to promote their small businesses. The vending was a small part of the entire celebration but it was your personal favorite.

“This booth is the best.” You were leaning a bit closer to him so none of the others heard you and took offense to your bias and he glanced at you from the side of his eye. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Jay shifted in place as you both studied the half set up booth full of custom made jewelry with shiny metal clasps and crystals you’d never even heard of let alone actually got to see in person.

“She makes all of these herself?” His voice had taken on the same whisper as yours had and you nodded as you followed his line of sight to see the owner of the booth, an older woman who was hanging up a sign with shaky hands and furrowed eyebrows.

Your hand was falling against your side as Jay moved forward and it lost its place on his arm, a frown forming on your face for just a few seconds before a smile replaced it as you realized what he was doing.

His voice was low and gentle as he spoke to her so you couldn’t quite hear what he was saying but she made an appreciative noise and handed the sign over to him so he could help her get it in place, her less shaky hands patting him on the shoulder thankfully once he was finished.

You took a step or two closer which was enough to get his attention and he looked up at you swiftly, eyes widening a bit like he only just now realized he’d left you standing there instinctively.

Surprisingly he was coming back to your side and bending his arm enough to indicate you could hold it again, something you quickly did even if your cheeks flushed a little at the realization you’d been holding onto him the entire day without really even noticing that wasn’t something you typically did.

“How lovely.” The vendor was practically cooing at the sight of you and your mouth dropped open at the implication of both your stance and your matching scarves. “What a kind young man, you’re a lucky lady.”

Jay made a noise that could only be described as strangled and you would have laughed at him if it wasn’t for the bashful look on the woman’s face, clearly regretting her words and assumption because of his reaction.

“I am, aren’t I?” You were giving her a sweet smile before gently patting his arm and watching the side of his face to further bask in his embarrassment.

You could hear her laughing in relief and delight at the sight of the two of you but you were more focused on how red Jay was turning and the way he was intensely attempting to not look at you. You grinned harder before waving goodbye to her and tugging him along, causing him to let out another distressed sound.

“What was that?” He was shocking you by speaking up and questioning your motives but you only laughed at the serious tone he’d taken and continued walking.

“I mean she’s not entirely wrong. I’d say I’m very lucky.” You tilted to the side to bump against him and he let out a scoffed laugh that made your smile grow, pleased you’d gotten him to loosen up a little bit.

You’d taken him a little past the vendors now so the buzz of the moving people and trucks had quieted down, instead being replaced by the clucks of chicken and the soft noises the cows in the barn were making.

The sight of a farm wasn’t uncommon where you lived but this one was particularly amazing to you considering the sheer size of it, making it the perfect space to host the crowds and heavy machinery that came along with the fairs open weekend. The large field would soon be filled with food trucks and a ferris wheel standing taller than the trees surrounding you, children running with caramel apples and a petting zoo full of the same animals in the red barn behind you.

“It’s really something.” Jay was filling the silence and you snapped out of your envisioning to glance at him, finding him also looking out into the field and watching the place come to life. “I didn’t realize how different it would be from just attending.”

“Atleast you don’t find it as boring as the others do.” You’d stopped walking by now in favor of leaning against a large pile of hay stacks and people watching, not surprised that he remained upright and stoic instead of joining you. “I’m really thankful you decided to help me this year even though you’d miss band practice.”

His head snapped over to you in shock and you laughed at the slightly panicked expression, shrugging your shoulders and picking at some of the loose straws of hay underneath you.

“Jungwon wasn’t exactly subtle but I’m grateful nonetheless.” You were standing back up at that and wiping the back of your pants to get the dust off of the fabric, looking back up at him and slightly squinting your eyes against the sun. “You’re a good friend.”

He was scratching the back of his neck and shifting his foot again awkwardly at the compliment but you were glad to see him nod in light acceptance.

“Wanna get some hot chocolate?”

——

A week continued on just like that with Jay arriving to your house a few hours before dinner time and the two of you riding to the field together, your voice overly filling the silence with his light hums and brief comments reassuring you that he was still actively listening.

Jay was providing more than just company, actually assisting you when it was finally time to start helping you and doing the volunteer work your other friends were so eagerly avoiding.

He was lifting heavy slates of wood without being asked twice and waiting for further instruction as you added a fresh coat of bright red paint to the apple bobbing booth. You knew you’d made the right choice with having him help (although your options were limited) and the other regular volunteers seemed to agree.

“Didn’t realize you were into strong guys.” The voice suddenly in your ear was making you jump and nearly spill your apple cider, glaring at the person joining you for the shock even though you were instinctively leaning closer to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You were mumbling around the styrofoam cup and she laughed mockingly at you, knowing you long enough to see through your indifference.

Cindy was twice your age but you’d gotten along from the moment you eagerly offered to volunteer, her parents being the founders of the fair in the first place which made her the rightful owner once they had passed away a few years ago.

She got on your case regarding just about everything but the tough love was a breath of fresh air considering the type of overbearing and coddling affection you were used to from your mother. It was almost your worst nightmare for her to catch you watching Jay as he helped the other male volunteers move logs and heaps of old wood away from where the mini rides would be installed.

“Honey I know heart eyes when I see them and yours are practically bursting out of your thick skull.” Her hand was reaching over to try to steal a piece of your warm pumpkin donut sat infront of you and you aggressively swatted at it with a scowl.

“He’s my friend. I’ve known him since I was like basically a baby.” You were trying to keep your tone flat and unsuspecting even though you weren’t even quite sure why you suddenly felt on trial.

You weren’t even purposefully eyeballing Jay or whatever she had called it but he just so happened to be directly in your line of sight and coincidentally he had removed his zip up at some point, most likely needing the cold chill because of all the heavy lifting he was doing with a surprise ease.

“Well he’s definitely not a baby anymore.” She made a small appreciative noise and you turned to her with your nose turned up in disgust, taking a moment to soak in her typically eccentric outfit.

Cindy was definitely one of the most interesting people in your town aesthetic wise, big chunky earrings being used as decorations in her large unkept hair and layers and layers of jarringly opposing patterns and fabrics. It somehow worked on her and you always loved the fact she looked like a little halloween trinket come to life.

“That’s disgusting, you could be his mother you know.” Your eyebrows were furrowed but she knew better than to take your annoyance serious, shrugging her shoulders and directing your attention back to the topic of the conversation with a ring covered hand.

“He watches you about as much as you watch him.” She had the same tone she always had when she felt like she was proving you wrong and in this case, she was. Jay was eyeing the two of you as you spoke but trying his best not to make it obvious, getting distracted enough to trip over a log and nearly crash into one of the bigger burlier men working.

He was far enough away that you couldn’t hear the interaction but you laughed at the glare he received and the way he threw both of his hands up in surrender, backing away and giving you a quick embarrassed glance before picking up the log he tripped over.

“Oh what a mess that boy is.” She was successfully stealing the rest of your donut and you sighed in defeat, leaning against her more and letting her signature vanilla scent hit you full force. “Doesn’t speak much does he.”

“You talked to him?” You didn’t quite understand why that peaked your interest so much but she chuckled at the eagerness in your question, nodding her head and chewing the soft donut for a few seconds before answering.

“He came over to old Betsy’s booth when she was using the restroom and I was filling in for her.” She seemed to miss the irony in her calling somebody around her age old and you didn’t dare point it out to her. “Kept eyeing the necklaces.”

You couldn’t think of a time Jay would’ve gone back to the jewelry stand without you and your eyes narrowed further.

“Well did he buy anything?”

“Don’t remember.” She hummed the words so casually but you knew better than to believe her, sitting up off her shoulder and turning your body so you could fully face her with a stern look. Your normally bubbly exterior was easier to lose than you usually preferred around your strange friend but you assumed it was because she never once minded you on your grumpiest days.

“You so totally remember.” Your finger raised accusingly and she glanced at it with a quirked eyebrow, her large red hexagon framed glasses almost blocking her amused expression. “Cindy what did he buy?”

You assumed she was going to make another excuse to not answer you directly but the universe, in all it’s twisted ways, actually offered a real one in the form of one of the senior volunteers calling for her attention and waving at you before urgently fanning her over.

“Looks like I’m needed elsewhere.” The air of mischief surrounding her had intensified as your own lighthearted annoyance followed suit and you rolled your eyes as she glanced back out into the field. “You’ve got better company incoming anyways.”

She was gone just in time for Jay to reach the two of you and he watched her back for a few seconds as she strolled away, a silent question floating around his furrowed eyebrows as if he was worried he was the reason she’d left so suddenly.

Your friend typically had an anxious energy surrounding him but it bothered you more so right now so you cleared your throat to get his attention and smiled when he finally gave it, patting the spot Cindy had just left empty and not scooting over when he jumped into a start and walked around the table to sit next to you.

“I heard you’ve met Cindy.” You nudged him with your elbow and he titled his head to grin at you in the most genuine way you’d seen from him in all your years of companionship, eyes squinting against the sun as it slowly set with a certain lightness you quite enjoyed. You figured the hard work had made him too tired to keep his guard as high as usual and you briefly considered asking the volunteers to give him more logs to move.

“She’s a character.” He took a second to form the sentence and it came out in slow patches like he was trying to find the nicest word to describe her eccentric ways. Your mouth was opening to inform him it was okay to be offput by her before he was talking again. “She reminds me of you actually.”

That shut you up and you felt a sudden unnecessary guilt for not immediately knowing if he was complimenting you or doing the opposite.

You hadn’t even noticed you were leaning against him again until he stiffened up at your unusual reaction, an apologetic look on his face making you feel even worse. It was beginning to frustrate you that you couldn’t stop embarrassing yourself in front of him, the ability beyond foreign and not something you’d ever even considered before.

His hand was cold when you reached out to place yours over it, not exactly holding but just letting your palm rest on top of his knuckles.

“I’m glad actually. I think she’s probably the most interesting person on earth.” You were watching his reaction to both your statement and the touch before forfeiting first and looking past him in the direction she’d gone.

“I doubt that.” He sounded strangely heavy and it was a tone unlike any you’d heard from him, immediately bringing your gaze back to his face in an attempt to decipher it.

Jay remained as stoic as he usually was and you were suddenly glad for the lowered sun, hoping the lack of lighting in the field managed to hide the light dusting of your cheeks.

——

It was almost refreshing to be back in the basement with the rest of your friends, not having any type of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach since Jay currently wasn’t here and for the first time in two weeks you weren’t having to overthink why you were feeling so weird.

Even though the other boys were trying their best to make you as awkward as possible, all staring at you with questioning eyes after Jungwon asked how it’d been volunteering this year.

“It’s fine.” You knew as soon as you gave a vauge answer that they were going to get suspicious, your eyes slowly closing in regret as they got an excited buzz to them and immediately hounded in on you like a pack of dogs (or over enthusiastic kittens).

“This is the first time since we were preteens you’ve talked about the fair and not went on for hours.” Even Sunghoon was being unusually perceptive and leaning forward on the edge of his arm chair.

“Can you guys not be super annoying about this?” You winced as you said it, already prepared for how rowdy they’d get at the admittance that there was something to be annoying about in the first place.

Not even Heeseung was exempt from the almost childlike giddiness they all had now and you rolled your eyes at the way they were all smacking eachother and overlapping sentences of ‘I told you so’ adjacent statements.

Luckily you were saved by the sound of Heeseung’s mom calling your name from the top of the stairs, shouting it a few times to try and outmatch the volume of all the boys talking at once. You managed to hear her exasperated tone beneath it and you left them to their theatrics without another word, finding her standing in the kitchen with the phone in her hand and an impatient look on her face.

You glanced at her apologetic before taking the phone from her and waiting until she was back at the table doing her crosswords before you actually put it up to your ear.

“Hello?” You knew it wasn’t likely to be your own mother calling about your whereabouts considering she ever rarely actually did, trusting you and knowing you were an adult who didn’t need checking in when you were usually only ever at a handful of places.

“Y/N?” Jays voice coming through the speaker was enough to make your stomach form a tight knot, not even fully processing the breathy and shaky way he was speaking before understanding something was wrong.

“Where are you?” You weren’t sure why it was the first thing you thought to ask him and he took a few painful seconds to even answer, your hand tugging at the chord connected to the wall anxiously as you waiting for his voice to come back and let you know he was still on the other end.

He was hushed when he muttered the address too and you felt little to no guilt about rushing out of the house without saying goodbye to the boys, formality and patience totally fleeing your mind as you picked up your bike off the side of the house and took off down Heeseung’s long smooth drive away.

Your thighs were burning as you made your way across town to the rundown area Jay had given an address for, heart racing in a similar pace to the buzzing in your ears that had started as soon as you were hanging up the phone.

The sun was setting now and you knew it was only a matter of time before your mother started to wonder why you were gone far past dinner but you couldn’t even begin to think about that or your friends realizing you weren’t coming back down or Cindy checking her jeweled watch when you didn’t show up for your usual hot donut before volunteering.

Nothing else was currently even a drop more important than Jay and the way he rushed out the address, one you didn’t even need an explanation for to understand what it was. The hesitance in the delivery told you exactly where you were heading and that was only part of the reason you felt sick as you rounded the corner sharply into the barren seeming neighborhood.

The houses with boarded windows and bright red ripped notices on the doors would’ve led you to assume the place was abandoned if it wasn’t for the mass of bright lights coming from the house on the end of the street.

You forfeited your bike in the middle of the road in exchange for running and you skidded to a stop when you realized you’d managed to completely sprint past Jay, not noticing him considering the way he was practically hunched in on himself and missing his usual stoic expression as he stood under a large overgrown tree.

Instead his face was an eerie combination of absent and horrified, gaze meeting your wide eyes but leaving you with the terrible feeling he was looking straight through you.

“What happened?” Your voice seemed to echo and his face was red and blue from the lights behind your tensed shoulders, your hands being painted with the same shades when you were reaching up to cup his cold cheeks.

He had the scarf you’d made for him around his neck and your heart ached at the idea he might’ve been on his way to meet up with you before whatever had occurred did. Your thumb brushed over its bumpy fabric when it smoothed over his skin and he practically leaned into it despite your friend’s usual disinterest towards physical touch.

“Can we go somewhere else?” It took you a few breaths to even realize he’d been the one to speak and you nodded instinctively, staying frozen even when he stood up and by default placed himself directly infront of you.

Your boot bumped against his shoe when you went to take a step back and he quickly looked away from the house and continuously flashing sirens.

You were wondering if it was a good idea to leave or if he still was needed by the officers scattered throughout the yard and near the patrol cars, sparing them a glance over your shoulder as you started to follow him. You didn’t meet any of their eyes enough to understand what you should do but there was no way you were going to leave Jay alone so you sighed and followed after him.

He was leading you around the back of the house where you could see a tilted garage and a bunch of shrubbery, almost enough to be completely hiding the car underneath it all.

Jay didn’t look at you once as he started to pull twigs and piles of bushes off the hood and windshield, failing to realize the way you were hugging yourself now to fend off the cold and anxiously peering back around the side of the house as you waited for somebody to come and try to stop you from leaving. Nobody came and eventually he was stopping to take a harsh breath before opening the door and looking at you expectantly.

Despite your nerves, you still followed suit and climbed into the old car. The air was stuffy and you could almost taste how long it’d been since it was put to any use especially obvious with all of the dust lining the dashboard and creating a fine film over the cup holders and stick shift that Jay was wrapping his hand around without a second thought.

“I didn’t know you had a car.” Your voice was filling the car only after you’d been driving in silence for a good fifteen minutes, leaving the town limit a few blocks ago and entering a long stretch of road you’d never been down before.

It was true considering there had been over a few dozen times everybody had complained about the lack of cars in the group, instances where you’d had to cancel plans because it just wasn’t manageable with your bikes. Even Heeseung didn’t have a license even though his mom was always telling him he’d have access to the family van sitting in the garage if he just took the road test.

You didn’t miss the fact that there was a lot you didn’t know about Jay, clearly more than you even realized considering how confused you were tonight by all the missing pieces.

“It was my dad’s.” He was finally glancing over at you but his tone of voice let you know this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about further, nodding your head in understanding and watching him as the trees grew larger around you and the road twisted and turned.

“Are you feeling okay?” You didn’t really know what to ask him considering how little you knew about the situation but he was still nodding slowly and it looked genuine from what you could tell.

You decided it was best to just stay silence so you didn’t accidentally say the wrong thing and Jay took a deep breath before doing the same thing, neither one of you speaking for the next thirty minutes as he drove and stared ahead at the road.

You opted for looking out the window at the large stretches of land and water, roads now slick and shiny with the rain that had been falling during your drive and making the night even more gloomy than it already was. You hoped your mom had seen the weather and assumed you were staying with a friend tonight instead of riding your bike home, your stomach turning a bit at the idea of her calling around to try to make sure you were safe.

Heeseung or one of the other boys knew to cover for you if she called his phone, repeating the practiced line that you had fallen asleep on the couch and forgotten to check in with her beforehand.

But then the worry would land with them and that thought made you frown too.

You weren’t yet regretting following Jay but you hoped you’d get to where you were going soon, suddenly wondering if he even had a destination in mind or if he was just going to keep driving forever and ever.

It didn’t take long to get your answer considering he was pulling into an empty parking lot sitting above a small hill that led down to what you assumed was a dark beach, a cold chill from the water filling the car once he turned it off and the low rattle of the engine disappeared.

He was just sitting there in the drivers seat with a faraway look on his face, picking mindlessly on the callouses covering his hands like he always did.

You were suddenly remembering what was the cause of the lump in your coat pocket, sitting up a bit and reaching your hand inside until it wrapped around the soft fabric you’d been molding for the past two weeks.

Jay was already watching you curiously and his eyes flickered up to yours when he realized what he was you were now holding and presenting out to him across the center console, a hopeful look on your face as you nudged it in his direction.

“You made these?” His question had an obvious answer but you had a feeling he just wanted to hear you say it.

“They match your scarf.” You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal even though you’d gone through an entire roll of fluffy yarn to make the small pair of gloves, messing up the instructions from your old crocheting book numerous times before you finally got them to a functional point.

Your heart was filling with pride when he was pulling them on and flexing his finger inside, seemingly fitting thankfully considering all you had to go off of for sizing was the amount of time you’ve stared at his hands playing guitar.

“They’re perfect.” He looked so sincere and thankful that it threw you for a few seconds, your eyes widening as you nodded your head and smiled at him shyly. “Thank you seriously.”

“It’s no problem. Did you want to get out?” The intensity suddenly filling the air was making your cheeks flush and you wanted nothing more than to be out of the old car, even if it met facing the cold chill waiting for you outside.

He seemed like he was considering it for a few seconds before he was opening his door and stepping out, making his way over to your side before you could process how fast he left and you faltered when he was opening your door for you.

Thankfully he didn’t seem to take your delayed reaction to heart and you were scrambling out before another awkward second passed by, feeling even more grateful when he was unexpectedly bending his arm and letting you wrap your hands around it like you would at the fair.

It brought a level of comfort to you that you hadn’t begun to understand fully but you welcomed it all the same, walking closely to him as you left the parking lot and the hard concrete under your feet turned into wet feeling sand that slowed your pace down automatically.

The beach was fogged over from the cold weather and you could barely see the water due to the darkness now completely surrounding you, relying solely on the sound of the waves crashing against the shore to let you know you were getting too close.

You and Jay walked in silence like that for a few minutes, alongside the water but far enough that it was only barely touching the sides of your boots whenever the waves rolled over and spread out into the sand.

He was eventually pausing in his stride and you glanced at the side of his face expectantly, seeing that same blank look he had when sitting in the car and feeling your heart tighten with the urge to help him any way you could. You weren’t even sure where to begin but it felt right to slowly sit down onto the sand, holding his arm loose enough that he could feel you moving before you tugged him down too.

You smiled a bit when he sat quickly beside you and you warmed even though the floor was cold and damp underneath you.

You decided to keep holding onto his arm even though you weren’t walking anymore and that left you practically hugging his side while you sat facing him with his own gaze towards the water, your legs pressed up against his and his glove covered hands crossed over his stomach cautiously.

There’d been dozen of instances where you had to sit in close proximity to Jay but never once had you experienced one where you were having to silently tell your heart to calm itself incase he could feel it beating out of control.

“Are you alright?” You couldn’t physically take the silence in the air anymore and he looked at you as you spoke.

His gaze was heavy but as kind as it always was when situated on, a tiredness to him that you weren’t used to seeing. You squeezed his arm and they softened even further while his head tilt to the side at your affectionate gesture.

“I’m sorry I took you all the way out here. I wasn’t really sure where else to go so I just drove.” He was quiet as he spoke and you almost didn’t hear him over the crashing waves.

You suddenly felt a twinge of guilt for being so skeptical about following him into the car and allowing him to leave the limits of your town.

“I don’t mind, it’s a beautiful place.” You heard the irony of the statement at the same time amusement passed over his face, both of you knowing it was far too dark for you to visually appreciate the beach. “It’s cool you can drive.”

He actually did laugh at that, a light one closer resembling a scoff but it seemed genuine nonetheless. You didn’t expect an explanation for him keeping his ability a secret and he didn’t offer one.

You fell into another lapse of silence but you found more comfort than awkwardness in this one, enjoying the closeness of the moment and trying to put yourself into his mind for a second.

Jay was all you could see with how low the light was, just the side view of his face that you’d been accustomed to for such a large part of your life that it was almost odd to be feeling so overwhelmed by the sight of him. It definitely wasn’t the time to be trying to understand why you had been feeling so off kilter around him these days but you knew the clock was clicking for you to figure it out.

His jaw was tense like it got whenever the boys got too rowdy in public or the times in high school when people would whisper in the halls as your small group passed.

It wasn’t a secret that Jay had a certain protective nature surrounding him but your silent friend had never looked as bothered as he did right now.

You were wrestling with yourself in your own mind and trying to shake the idea that he was possibly uncomfortable with your sudden clinginess. You had a reminder on a constant loop that he was the one who initiated the small contact almost everytime and his cheeks flushed red almost as much as yours did whenever you squeezed his arm in yours.

“My mom got arrested.” His voice was cutting off your rampant irrelevant thoughts and your mouth parted slightly in surprise from the sudden admission, immediately snapping shut when you noticed him watching you from the side of eye.

“Jay.” You went to speak words of comfort but his lips pursed and his eyes shut for a second like he was pained so you swallowed your sentence and waited for him.

“It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time or the last.” He was beginning to rush through the words like he didn’t think he could manage to get them all out and you watched him carefully, forgetting the cold weather and the wetness coating the fabric of your pants. “I called you because I knew seeing you would make me feel better but I don’t really need to talk about it or anything.”

“Then we don’t have to talk about it.” Your voice was firmer than usual and his shoulders relaxed.

You weren’t even thinking when your hand was reaching up to touch his face, turning his head towards your direction so he didn’t really have a choice but to look at you.

Your hands were undoubtedly freezing against his skin but you still took the opportunity to absentmindedly rub your thumb against his cheek and jaw, observing the way he almost melted into the touch with something close to pain in his expression.

This was nothing like the arm holding or the hands brushing when you passed him a paintbrush, crossing over the line of things you could fit in the category of your newly developed friendship without the connection of the group. This was something else entirely and you chose not to place it anywhere for now, letting it exist here on the beach without the weight in your chest following along.

“Did it make you feel better?” Your voice was almost a whisper but you had no doubt he heard you considering how close your faces had gotten now that you made him look at you fully. “Seeing me?”

You knew the answer already when you asked it but you still weren’t prepared for the way he softly nodded while leaning into your touch further, eyes big and puppy like in direct contrast to his usual stern and more feline gaze. Vulnerability had completely taken over his typical stoic attitude and you felt a surge of pride for getting to see him like this.

Jay had been consuming your thoughts since you started hanging out one on one and it felt far too important of a moment to let pass you by.

You barely had to shift yourself forward to be able to kiss him but the slightest sign of you moving spurred him to close the gap instead, pushing his lips against yours and taking you by surprise.

The beach was almost quieter as the two of you kissed softly, the waves sounding like they were further away since all you could focus on was the warmth radiating off of him. You were flushed from how delicate he was with you and how it lacked any real heat considering it was much more of a romantic kiss than you both trying to turn the other on.

He kept his eyes closed when you pulled away from eachother and you rested your forehead against his, watching his expressions closely and not wanting to lean back incase the lack of touch made him reconsider what had happened.

You’d be stupid to not understand Jay had always had a soft spot for you but just because the boys teased him about it didn’t mean he actually felt like you were somebody special. He was a gentleman in all aspects of his interactions so you weren’t certain enough to bet on the fact he had any type of feelings for you that would make him see this kiss the way you did.

“Please don’t regret this tomorrow.” He said it in one quick whisper and your heart twisted at the same time your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I won’t, of course I won’t.” You hoped your voice was firm enough to make him believe you but you could tell by the look on his face that he was still skeptical.

You didn’t know how else to prove it to him besides kissing him again so that’s exactly what you did, hands cupping his face and pulling him into you much more passionately than you had the first time. This go around there was a lot more movement and a soft noise escaped you when you felt his gloved hand on your knee.

It was hard to connect the fact the Jay you were kissing was the same Jay you’ve known almost your entire life. He was the same boy who used to scowl on the swings at the playground and silently pay for your snacks at lunch or hold the door for you when entering Heeseung’s house.

You were almost reverting back through all your platonic memories with him as you kissed and seeing him in a different light than you had before.

This time when you stopped kissing you fully leaned into him until you were practically hugging without having your arms around each other, the sudden longing to just feel him close overwhelming you as you tried to pretend it was simply because of the cold and not because he opened up apart of himself to you tonight and that seemed to be the final piece you needed to understand how you felt.

“We should go, you’re going to catch a cold.” He was speaking again in a far away voice and you would’ve declined and asked for just a few more minutes but he was already standing up.

You suddenly felt the most distant you had in a long time from him and your throat was tightened even when he offered his arm in your direction, the action coming across more robotic now than him actually reaching out for you.

It was hard to not overthink considering he was driving you both home in silence, the hills and forest of the town coming into sight as you left behind the empty stretches of road and sky above the ocean.

For once you found yourself looking out the window with longing as you passed the welcome sign back into where you’d grown up, finally slightly understanding why most people had a hard time coming home after being somewhere else for a change.

You didn’t stop thinking about the beach or the road leading even further away until he was pulling into your driveway, the car making a funny scraping sound as it pushed itself up the slight incline.

Jay sighed softly, the first noise he’d made in a long time that wasn’t covered by the radio commercials and the heat running on high with that loud rattling noise, shutting the car off completely as you both sat there in silence.

“Are you able to go home? If you need somewhere to stay I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind as long as you stayed on the couch.” You were speaking swiftly with your eyes slightly widened and he smiled at you gently even if it didn’t quite seem genuine.

“I’m alright, I’ll figure it out.” His tone held a stubborn finality that you didn’t bother trying to question again even though it hurt your heart to think about him searching for a place to stay.

You almost begged him to just come in and warm up for a bit, maybe use your phone to call some of the boys and ask them if he could go there before he just started to drive around in circles but you decided against it.

Instead you leaned far enough that the middle console was pressing against your stomach and you kissed him softly on his cheek, rubbing the clumpy fabric of his scarf before sitting back in your seat and smiling shakily as you tugged the door open and stepped back out into the cold.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Your head cocked so he understood it was a question you wanted answered and he took a few moments before he was nodding his head and starting the car again, lifting his hand off the steering wheel for a brief second in a wave as you closed the door.

——

Jay didn’t show up the next day but you still stood at the end of your driveway with your bike in your hands for twenty minutes, shifting from the cold and slight embarrassment even though nobody was around to see you left hanging.

You filled your mind with the calming thought that he was just busy and he’d show up any minute panting from rushing over here, or maybe he’d even bring his new car and you wouldn’t have to ride your bikes in the cold anymore.

You’d have a good day setting up the fair and you wouldn’t have any awkward silences about the kiss, infact maybe you’d even kiss again when he dropped you back off at home later.

The thoughts and daydreams only entertained you until half an hour had passed and now you’d officially be late so you had no choice but to flip up your kick stand with your foot and mount your bike with a deep frown.

Even then you still felt guilty about leaving incase Jay showed up late at your house and found out you had left without him.

The rational part of you knew that wasn’t going to happen and if anything he could come to the fair and just meet you there but you could tell from the first hour that he wasn’t going to and he wasn’t anywhere waiting for you to come back. He simply hadn’t shown up and you were beyond stupid for thinking otherwise all morning.

It actually hadn’t even crossed your mind that he wasn’t going to show up.

You ran through the possible scenarios, coped with the inevitable tension in the air and the chance of an extremely awkward conversation where you had to confess your newfound feelings for him.

You’d even practiced over how you were going to say it all morning as you got dressed down to the last word but not once did you think he would simply leave you there alone like a completely fool.

Jay was a lot of things, he was reserved and shut off and maybe a little bit blunt at times but he was certainly never cruel and especially not to you. Your friends seemed to agree considering how appalled they were when you stomped down the steps with wet leaves wrapped around your boots and frowned as you explained what had happened.

“Wait you kissed? You like Jay?” Heeseung seemed utterly confused and you couldn’t tell if he was playing up the surprise or if he genuinely wasn’t paying attention to the obvious signs.

“Dude have you even been here? That’s not the problem, what do you mean he didn’t show up?” Sunghoon was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands cupping his face in distress.

“I shouldn’t have kissed him without asking how he felt about me first.” You ignored his question and shook your head as you slouched back into the couch, more upset with your self now than anything else.

All the boys looked around at each other in shock and the air got heavy again like it always seemed to whenever the topic of you and Jay came up. Your eyebrows furrowed into a glare and you settled it onto Jungwon who looked the most guilty, hoping he’d spill whatever it was that they weren’t saying to you.

“Jay is totally into you.” He was letting it out in one breath of air and the other boys collectively rolled their eyes and swatted at your friend. “He has been forever and we all totally make his life hell because of it.”

“Why on earth would you guys do that?” You were practically yelling now even though it was hard to stay mad at them when they all looked so guilty. “Just a few weeks ago you were trying to get me to ask out Jake Sim.”

“We were trying to get him to finally grow a pair and make a move.” Heeseung made you groan at the crude wording but despite your annoyance you actually understood the ways they were trying to help especially since it had actually worked up until you screwed it up by kissing him.

You relayed this thought to them and they looked just as stricken by the fact Jay had not followed up after your kiss as they did the first time you said it.

They did their best to cheer you up with covers of your favorites songs and less argument filled board game rounds but you couldn’t stop the hole in your heart from deepening everytime you thought about it. Your anger towards yourself slowly transferred to him instead as the night went on but even that felt wrong.

Opening night of the fair was finally happening tomorrow and you could barely feel the usual excitement, even when all the boys told you they would be coming to keep you company.

You gave them a soft smile before bidding them goodnight and you truly did appreciate what they were trying to do but it wasn’t the outcome you wanted.

That still didn’t stop you from waking up early the next morning and getting yourself ready, pinning your stray hairs back with cheap pumpkin decorated pins you’d had for a decade and pulling on the new pair of gloves you made (finished off with much neater edges than Jays had been).

The others were going to arrive any moment to accompany you so you sat on the couch finishing your hot chocolate and tapping your feet against the carpet with anticipation, doing all you could to ignore the pit in your stomach so you could still have fun and appreciate all the hard work you and the other volunteers had contributed.

Rough honking from outside made your head pick up expectantly and you set your mug on the coffee table before rushing to the window and smiling brightly when you saw all of your friends waving from inside an old car you didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t until you opened the door that you caught sight of the driver and you faltered a bit, long enough that he had stepped out onto your driveway and waved at you with a sheepish expression.

“Hey Y/N, hope it’s okay that I tag along.” Jake Sim was standing infront of your house and he apparently was one of the few people your age in town that owned a car and even worse, your friends were giving you encouraging looks behind his back.

Heeseung lost his thumbs up when you glared at him through the windshield but you made sure to smile at Jake reassuringly.

“Of course it’s okay Jake, it’s good to see you.” You tugged open the passenger seat door and tugged at Heeseung’s hoodie until he was groaning and unbuckling, squeezing into the backseat with the others and allowing you to be in the front.

You let the boys talk loudly and play their music while you sat in silence during the short drive to the field where the fair was being held, finding it harder to ignore the fact somebody was missing when all you could think about what your drive back from the beach.

Jake quietly humming wasn’t enough for you to forget how Jay kept a tight grip on the steering wheel or shifted in his seat at a red light.

The comparison of the two definitely wasn’t fair especially since you were almost positive your friends had begged Jake to give you all a ride under some faux promise that you would find it kind enough to give him a shot. He was always nice to you in school and definitely wasn’t trying anything sleazy now, instead arguing with Jungwon about the speed limits and his backseat driving.

Your heart warmed the second you were approaching the field and you could see the Ferris wheel peaking over the trees, car slowing down to allow the groups of people and large families to cross the street in front of you.

The turn out was probably the biggest you’d seen yet and even your friends were making noises of excitement as they peered out the windows and took in the rows of games and smaller kiddy rides.

“Woah this is awesome.” Jake sounded genuinely amazed from beside you and you glanced back over your shoulder to smile at him. “You guys did a great job.”

You knew he must’ve been referring to the larger group of people who volunteered but you still couldn’t help but think of all the work Jay helped do and how much he contributed this year.

“Thank you Jake.”

——

It was almost like a homecoming as you walked across the field and let the mud build up under your boots, a caramel apple in hand and the other wrapped around Heeseung as he laughed and tried his best to win your group another stuffed animal despite the fact the three boys behind you were holding two each.

“Holy shit.” You couldn’t help but be impressed when he knocked all the pins down again even though you quickly covered your mouth apologetically when the mother of a child near you sent you a sharp glare.

“Here you go madam.” He’d put on a funny proper voice as he handed you the small pink stuffed lamb and you mockingly curtsied at him as he squinted his eyes against the sun and surveyed the area. “Alright going to go attempt to brave the portapotties, wish me luck.”

“Hold your breath.” Jungwon was quick to chirp behind you and you groaned at the imagery, pulling your arm out of Heeseung’s so he could half jog over to the bathrooms and feeling a slight chill run over you at the loss of body heat.

Somebody was clearing their throat from beside you and your eyes widened a bit as you turned to see Jake standing there now, a sheepish expression on his face with his elbow angled at you invitingly. He must’ve picked up on your walking habit by now and you smiled bashfully at him before accepting his arm.

“Are you having a good time?” You started walking together as you spoke quietly, your two friends behind you talking loudly in weird voices as if they were making their animal prizes communicate.

“It’s beautiful.” He actually sounded like he meant it, tone a little breathy as he turned his gaze to the Ferris wheel and nodded appreciably. “I understand why you love it so much.”

You were actually enjoying his company despite the ache in your chest and you were glad he got to tag along with all of you, hoping you’d get the chance to see him with the boys more often including the one you were missing the most right now.

It’d been a few hours into the fair and you knew Jay could come another day by himself if he really wanted to but the thought of him missing opening day and feeling how special it was hit you harder than you wished it would and you were almost antsy for your friends to leave so you could go and mope to Cindy and ask her for some advice.

“Look who I ran into.” Heeseung sounded excited from behind you as he returned from the bathrooms and your eyebrows raised curiously, turning in unison with Jake.

Your mouth dropped open a bit when you saw Jay standing there awkwardly, hands in his pockets and a torn expression on his face that turned into one of confusion when he realized you were linking arms with Jake Sim. He didn’t say anything and neither did the others boys, not at all matching Heeseung’s enthusiasm and instead sending you glances like they weren’t sure what reaction was appropriate.

To make matters worse, Jake clearly wasn’t reading the energy and instead was nudging your side affectionately and giving Jay a wide smile.

“And you thought he wasn’t going to show up.” He didn’t know the history behind the two of you or anything that had happened so you couldn’t really fault him for his embarrassing comment, realizing now he must’ve caught wind of some of the things the boys had said about you not expecting Jay.

The comment was enough to break the tension in the air for something much worse and you watched the boy in question purse his lips and nod his head in bitter understanding, pulling a hand out of his pocket to rub the back of his neck.

“Well this was nice but I’ve gotta go.” He didn’t wait for anybody to say any words of parting and instead he was turning on his heels and leaving.

You scoffed and removed your arm from Jakes gently, stomping away from them to follow behind Jay and trying to ignore the clueless boys confused questioning to your friends about what he had said wrong.

“You’re just going to leave?” You waited until you were closer to the barns to speak even though you were pretty sure he knew you’d been following him. “You don’t have anything you feel like you want to say to me?”

He looked surprisingly calm when he turned around to face you but your anger didn’t settle much even when you saw the hurt and lost expression he had, staring down at you and all of your fury like he thought he deserved it.

“What is there for me to say?” His voice was low and you frowned again at how defeated he seemed, how easy it was for him to end the conversation even though you felt like there was a thousand things being left unsaid. “I don’t want to interrupt your time with Jake.”

You let out a noise that was close to a laugh but without any sign of amusement, anger taking over any type of sadness or confusion you felt about the situation. He wasn’t saying it like he was at all angry at you for being around Jake but that almost made you more upset, seeing how simple it seemed for him to just walk away with no explanation.

“By my time with Jake do you mean the time I’m spending waiting for you to show up knowing you wouldn’t?” Your voice cracked a little as you took a step closer to him. “And when you finally do you’re just going to leave? I mean did the night on the beach just mean nothing to you?”

“The night on the beach?” He was now starting to show a little emotion outside of the almost cowardly demeanor he’d had, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared down at you now that you were closer. “The night you pity kissed me?”

It was almost hard to believe he’d say something like that and even harder to comprehend that he genuinely meant it, he wasn’t attempting to hurt you or being unnecessarily cruel like most people would but instead he actually was going off the notion you’d kissed him out of sympathy.

“How could you think that way?” You tried to soften your tone but you were just so upset about everything and even more so now that the fairs opening day was passing you by and going so poorly.

Jay was just looking at you and you were almost worried he was going to start crying, the pained look not going away even when you were closing the gaps between the two of you and bringing your hand up to his cheek. He leaned into it when your thumb rubbed against his skin again but he didn’t answer your question.

You could feel his hand on your lower back like he was afraid you’d back away prematurely but you had no plans to go anywhere despite being upset with him, you could see how hurt and confused he was and that trumped your own feelings that could be dealt with afterwards.

He had been a constant in your life for as long as you could understand the notion of having a friend but you felt like you were just now seeing him for the first time ever and you were almost embarrassed that you didn’t know how to help him especially since he always seemed to know what to say to you when you were upset.

“You have no idea what you are to me.” He’d lost the helplessness in his voice now that you were touching him and the pained tone was more stemming from your closeness than anything else.

There was nothing you could say to that that would properly convey how you felt about the hushed reassured confession so instead you kissed him.

He was immediate in the way he put his other hand on your back too and pulled you closer to him, turning your head and relishing in how different it felt to kiss him standing up.

Jay made a low noise when your hands moved from his face to his hair and you wanted nothing more than to pull another from him, your tongue swiping across his bottom lip seemingly doing the trick as you felt his hands squeeze your waist instinctively.

You pulled away from the kiss to try and breathe but he was immediately following after your lips and connecting them again which made you decide you didn’t at all mind continuing even if it meant replacing air with the feeling of him against you.

You didn’t even realize you were moving until your feet with tripping over his and your back was hitting what you assumed was the barn, a small laugh leaving your lips even though it was muffled by his moving against you feverishly. Jay was kissing you like he’d never get to do it again but by now you’d caught on to the fact he’d thought about this alot longer than you had.

His hand was leaving your back to stop at your knee, pulling it to the side easily so he could slot his own in between yours and press impossibly closer.

“God you’re everything.” He was breathing heavily as he spoke and you whined a bit at how low his voice had gotten, sounding similar to how it did when he’d get focused on one of their songs or scold the boys for messing around too much.

“Can you stay with me here?” Your own came out surprisingly squeakish and you flushed in embarrassment.

He was nodding softly and your hand left his hair to sit on the back of his neck for a second before you were kissing him one more time quickly, smiling a little when he took a step back after and grabbed your free hand so you’d stumble forward with him.

“I’m sorry I was late.” He said it so casually like you were just two regular people going out and he was a little tardy for a date but you figured you could talk about how the situation hurt you later and try to enjoy the rest of the day.

You were leading him back towards your friends but dropping his hand as you approached, not fully sure you wanted to deal with their teasing and quick comments. Jay was easily understanding what you were implying and he fell back into his silent nature, giving them quick head nods when they expressed excitement over him joining you.

It was beginning to look just like your regular hangouts until you all agreed to head towards the ferris wheel and suddenly Jake was turning towards you with a shy smile and his arm bent in your direction.

You couldn’t fault him for assuming you’d want to continue linking arms now that you were back but your heart clenched for a second knowing who was standing right behind you.

Jay was such a quiet and stoic person that you didn’t necessarily think he’d sit there throwing glares at any guy who tried to speak to you but you were either extremely wrong or the energy of the day had gotten to him because you could feel his arm snaking around your waist just as you turned to see the annoyed expression he had and the harsh way he was watching Jake.

All discreetness was thrown out the window at that and you watched the boy across from you purse his lips in bitter understanding before slowly pulling his arm back against his side.

“Don’t be rude.” You were whispering the scolding words in Jay’s ear but leaning against his side so he knew you were okay with the show of affection even if it had started as possessiveness.

He didn’t say anything in his typical fashion and you tried to ignore how giddy the thought of him being jealous made you. You stayed close to him as you waited in line, listening to your friends joke around as you felt his hand squeezing your side impatiently every few minutes.

It was a no brainer that you’d be sitting next to him when an empty carts started to make their way around the wheel and you smiled softly at Heeseung and Jungwon fighting over who got to sit with Jake, pushing them slightly when the working attendant started to look extra impatient.

Jay glanced at you from the side of his eye before putting a hand forward to signal you to get on first, following behind as you scooted across the metal bench and watched him close the door tightly.

“Are you scared of heights?” Your voice was teasing as you leaned against his side to looked closely at the nervous look on his face. He glared at you lightheartedly and when his eyes didn’t leave your face for a few seconds you realized he was going to kiss you right as he did.

His big hand was cupping your cheek to pull you in closer and the feeling of him moving against you was enough to override the embarrassment of kissing before the ride had even moved you out of view from the crowd.

You practically kissed the entire time your cart slightly jerked forward to allow new people onto the ones under you, slowly lifting you higher and higher as your heart raced.

Kissing Jay was a completely foreign feeling but you felt like you couldn’t stop now that you knew what it was like, finding the low noises your friend made absolutely addicting to the point they were overriding your system and everything you’ve ever thought about him. You never once considered what he would feel like this close to you or how he’d look when you pulled apart to breathe, dark eyes low and hazy and his lip reddening.

“Is this what you expected when you offered to help me paint stables?” You were grinning as you spoke and he brushed some of your hair behind your ear.

“Not necessarily but a guy can dream.” He surprised you by joking back and the ride jolted alive suddenly, both of you lurching forward for a second before dissolving in a fit of laughter.

From the top of the ferris wheel you could not only see the fair and all of the work you’d put into it but you could see a large part of your small town, the gravel roads you struggled with your bike on everyday to Heeseung’s and the railroad tracks that led to the side of town you’d found Jay on the night he called you.

Off in the distance you could even make out the long stretch of road where the trees broke away and the sea inevitably began.

Jay was softly calling for your attention once your cart stopped at the very top of the ride, your hair blowing in the light wind as you turned to face him. The sun had nearly set now and he looked particularly handsome when he was lit up by the lights adorning the metal beams under you, that nervous look returning as he shifted his body to face you.

He almost looked as if he was planning to tell you something, maybe even make a speech of some sort but instead he was closing his mouth and reaching into his coat pocket to pass you a small box.

You took it from his glove covered hands and glanced up at him with wide eyes, already having a relatively good idea about what was inside the box. He raised an eyebrow at you as a way to urge you opening it and you quickly untied the soft ribbon keeping it closed, both of you keeping quiet like you were scared to ruin the moment.

Inside, surrounded by shredded wrapping paper to keep it safe, was a beautiful handmade necklace with a golden seashell at the end of the thin chain. You knew right away who had made the piece of jewelry and your eyes filled up with tears as you looked at him.

“Sorry I’m not as crafty as you but I figured I knew somebody who was.” He was trying to joke around to soften the heavy atmosphere but you could see the hesitation on his face as he waited for you to say something. “It’s the right one right? You kept looking at it the first day you brought me here.”

“It’s perfect.” Your voice was breathy and it came out as one word but you knew he understood, his shoulders losing some tension as he shifted closer to you and took the necklace from your shaky hands.

You sniffed a little bit and turned around so you could lift your hair and assist him in putting the necklace on you, getting a full view of the town around you as you did so and barely even noticing the fact the ferris wheel was beginning to move again.

All you could focus on was his cold hands on your neck and the weight of the seashell as it softly fell down in the middle of your collarbones, your heart thumping so hard you worried it woukd shift it from its place.

His apprehension was still obvious when you turned back around to show him how it looked on you but his eyes lit up at the sight of it, meeting your gaze just in time for you to lean in and kiss him again.

[greensparty]

Stuff I’m Looking Forward to in April

It’s Springtime and we’re now in the 2nd Quarter of 2023! In addition to April Fools Day (April 1), Palm Sunday (April 2), Passover (from April 5 to 13), Good Friday (April 7), Easter (April 9), Orthodox Easter (April 16), Patriots Day (in MA on April 17), Tax Day (April 18), Eid al-Fitr (expected to begin on April 21), Earth Day (April 22), Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day (April 24), and Administrative Professionals’ Day (April 26) here is what’s on my radar this month:

Movies:

Air

Ben Affleck directs himself and Matt Damon in this true story of Nike making the Air Jordan. The last time he directed a true story was possibly his best directing Argo, so hopes are high for this one opening 4/5.

Showing Up

I kind of like the simplicity of Kelly Reichardt’s films notably Wendy and Lucy, which she did with frequent star Michelle Williams. Here Williams plays an artist in this dramedy opening 4/7.

The Lost Weekend: A Love Story

May Pang had an 18-month romance with John Lennon during his “Lost Weekend” era and she has told her story in books and been interviewed in other documentaries, but now she is getting the doc treatment she deserves. Opening 4/14.

Personality Crisis: One Night Only

Martin Scorsese and his frequent documentary editor David Tedeschi direct this doc about David Johansen, the former New York Dolls singer later known as Buster Poindexter. The fact that Scorsese is taking on this music legend is literally an NYC icon documenting an NYC icon!  Premieres 4/14 on Showtime.

Beau Is Afraid 

I had mixed feelings about Ari Aster’s first two films Hereditary and Midsommar. On the one hand they kinda lost steam at times and were a little bloated, on the other hand the parts that worked really worked and there’s not denying his ambition. His new one with Joaquin Phoenix is actually a dark comedy I have high hopes for. Opening 4/21.

Evil Dead Rise 

Alright, I don’t know if I’m actually looking forward to this, so much as cautiously optimistic about this Evil Dead sequel. I’m not expecting this to be as good as Sam Raimi’s first three, but hoping it cracks my Top Evil Dead Movies next time I revise the list. Opening 4/21.

Music:

Metallica 72 Seasons

Metallica’s 11th album is also their first since 2016′s Hardwired...to Self-Destruct, which was a serious comeback (I even included it in my Best Albums of the 2010s list). New album drops 4/14.

Smashing Pumpkins Atum

Smashing Pumpkins dropped Act 1 of Atum in November and Act 2 in January. Now Act 3 and the physical release of the entire rock opera are dropping 4/21.

Film Festivals:

Salem Horror Fest 

I have been lucky enough to cover this genre film festival in Salem, MA since 2018. Last year they decided to move the festival from October (when there is a lot going on in Salem) to April. Fest runs from 4/20 to 4/30.

Independent Film Festival Boston 

My favorite film festival (I am an alum) is IFFBoston! Last year they returned in-person after they took 2020 off and 2021 virtual. It felt so good to return to the fest in person! This year marks IFFBoston’s 20th anniversary. Fest runs from 4/26 to 5/3.

Events:

Record Store Day 

Possibly my favorite fake holiday is the day we celebrate independent record stores. This year there’s some exciting RSD releases from Pearl Jam, Ringo Starr, The Stooges and Wilco. Looking forward to 4/22!

[bittershins]

also u people have no idea how excited i am for spring. guys it's gonna be spring peeper season soon!!!!! the redwinged blackbirds are back!!!! spring ephemerals!!! I'm just feeling really glad to be alive!

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 | choso kamo

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Finding out your boyfriend's a vampire was far from the chill evening you planned with him. But you can't lie, imagining those fangs sinking down on and sucking on your skin....it's kinda hot.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: vampire bf! Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern! au - oral (m! receiving) - handjob - fingering (f! receiving) - nipple play (licking, sucking, tweezing, fangs grazing) - piercings (nape and frenum) - biting (wrist, shoulder, breast, implied more afterwards) - Choso got a long schlong, rip - missionary position - overstimulation - clitoral play (swiping) - cervix fucking - the first time you and Choso have sex + you two being nervy/cute - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Choso takes blood supplements + drinks pigs blood - Yuuji is his half-brother - mention of blood (duh) and saliva/spit - proofread but will check for more l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4k (bro, wtf???)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: y'all watched that new ep, right? right. anywaysss, in celebration of choso [and yuuji]'s big fight being animated, i was thinking of vampy bf! choso for a few days and how cute/hot that would be! soooooo, enjoy~~ ☆ and tysm for 2.6k!!

“Sooo, you two gonna like fuck tonight?”

“Whatever happened to ‘How’s your day,’ ‘You doing okay,’ or ‘You still haven’t offed yourself after midterms,’ Nobara?”

“Yeah, my day is going fine, but answer the question.” 

“I swear to Christ…” you sigh heavily as you walk down the sidewalk. 

The month of October brings more dread to your being than anything else. As much as you want to be festive, order a pumpkin latte, and chill watching the leaves fall gracefully with the autumn times, college life does whatever it takes to prevent that. And what better way to do that than have you suffer with midterm exams. 

You and your roommate, Nobara, have experienced the worst, especially this week. Having to study and pull all-nighters so much that you two can count with four fingers at max how many hours of sleep you get daily. Whatever gets the work done. However, it shouldn’t cost you your necessary slumber. Even your other best friends, Yuuji and Megumi, are victims of the tests. Hell, Yuuji found out he had an exam the day BEFORE and had to come in clutch by spending the entire day finishing the two-page study guide!  

All four of you are depleted of fun; it’s non-existent as you try to navigate out of this academic hell…Despite that, though, there’s one thing you’re always looking forward to during the week: the weekend! Oh, yes, today is finally Friday. You’ve been anticipating this day throughout the week, finally done with your exams and ready to relax with your friends after so much schoolwork. But that’s not the only thing you’re looking forward to…

Because this weekend, you’ll finally be with your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen since the start of midterms. Choso Kamo, Yuuji’s older half-brother and the man of your life, is the only person you’d love to see sweep you off your feet and take you in his loving arms, away from all the stress and discomfort from your college life. The two of you have been dating for almost a year, and he’s, without a doubt, the sweetest guy you ever got lucky with. 

Since the start of this semester, it’s been hard for you two to meet at one place, let alone get on the phone. With you on campus and he outside with his job as a piercer, there have been times when you thought you’d never see him until winter break. Yet, it is now fall break, and Yuuji invited you and the gang to have a relaxing weekend at Choso’s place (with his permission). You accepted the invitation with a gleeful heart, practically bouncing and giggling at the thought of being in the same place as your partner again. And that’s where you’re heading now, walking down the sidewalk to his townhouse with a duffle bag full of your stuff, and you on the phone with Nobara to keep you company. 

“All I’m saying is,” the brunette starts on the other side of the line. “If there’s ever a good time for you two to get it on, it would be this weekend.”

“I’m sorry, since when has my sex life been on your mind instead of studying for the exam you have in ten minutes?” You hear your roommate suck her teeth, and you grin with satisfaction. “Besides, he and I are waiting for the perfect time to do it, no rush. And seeing as you, Megumi, and Yuuji will be in the same place as us, I highly doubt we’d ever think of having sex.”

“Hmm, fair point —KNOCK KNOCK— WHO IS IT!!?” You almost remove the device from your ear from Nobara’s abrupt yelling. “Sorry, Y/n. Megumi is here and says we gotta head to the classroom right now.” 

“That’s fine. I’m already at Choso’s place, anyway. See you guys later, and good luck with the exam.”

“‘Kay, see ya later.” She bids you farewell. “Also, if you two ever do it this weekend and you don’t tell me, as your best-est friend, I have legal rights to make sure all your cute underwear gets thrown out next time I take out the trash.”

“Good-fucking-bye, Nobara.” You scoff, your thumb already pressing the end call button and stuffing the phone in the pocket of your leggings. 

In just the nick of time, you make it to Choso’s townhome and climb up the stairs to knock on the door. Within seconds, Yuuji opens the door and greets you with a hug. 

“Y/n!” He’s always so eager and chipper when he sees you. “I was just about to text you; gotta run to the grocery store, then head to the pizza shop to place the order.”

You enter the foyer to remove your shoes while the salmon-haired other rushes to put his on. “Oh, how come?”

“The phones and websites seem to be down, so I gotta head there in person to place the order. But don’t worry, I’ll be right back before Megumi and Nobara.” He stands to open the door again before grabbing his car keys from the rack. “Choso’s up in his room right now, so you can say hi and chill with him while I’m gone.”

“All right,” You watch Yuuji run down to the sidewalk before he stops to shout something in your direction.

“Don’t do anything too crazy, ya lovebirds!” He sends you a cheeky grin, and you give him a playful glare with puffed cheeks.

“I won’t; go get the pizza!” He laughs at your response as he jogs down the street to his car, and you close the door when you see him drive off. 

Alone with Choso…The thought of being alone with your boyfriend for a few hours has the butterflies in your stomach become active, fighting the urge to smile with warm cheeks. It’s been a hellish month thus far. Finally, after all this time, being in your boyfriend’s arms is enough to wash off all the stress you’ve pent up for the past couple of weeks.

With glee in your steps, you tip-toe up the stairs with wholesome thoughts of you and your boyfriend. I wonder if he’s been eating right these days. Same with getting sleep, he has a bad habit of sleeping at ungodly hours…Oh my God, wait, are we going to sleep together? If so, it'll be the first time we share a bed together. Does that mean—

You mentally slap yourself out of your delusion when you stop at his bedroom door. Oh, snap out of it, Y/n! That’s just Nobara getting into your head. Plus, it’s not like you two will be by yourselves for the entire night —  the other three will be here. Hell, his own younger brother will be across the exact hallway! Don’t think such horny shit, for God’s sake…

You shake your head to abolish the impure thoughts, raising your fist to knock on your boyfriend’s door. “Chocho?" You greet with a nickname. "It’s me, Y/n. I just got here and—“ 

CRASH!!

The sound makes you jump, halting you from finishing that sentence. Rushed footsteps and another noise that something was bumped into follow along. “Ch-Choso? Everything all right?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” you can tell even from outside the room his voice had an unsure tone; he was, in fact, not good. “Just wait, I gotta—Ow!!”

You know you shouldn’t have done what you’re about to do as it goes against basic etiquette; however, when you hear sudden cries of pain from your boyfriend, how in the world would you stay still!? With a chewed lip, you grab the door handle and bust it open to enter his room.

You know you shouldn’t have done that. Because what you see before you is way beyond your comprehension. 

The carpeted floor had items all over the place. There are packets filled with what appear to be red liquids and tiny red pills contrasted with the white carpet. They must’ve been knocked over and made that noise. Suddenly, you notice a stain on the white mat in a bright red color. That was the thing that alerted your nerves, immediately searching for the figure standing behind the bed. It was your boyfriend, Choso Kamo.

But was it him? Because what on earth were you looking at!?? He still had the same face, light brown hair that was usually tied up now fell to his neck, his black “tattoo” on his face now red and leaking down to his chin. And his mouth was agape, your eyes noting that his canines were extended out more than usual with red fluid at the ends. Not to mention that the man was now shirtless! His bare chest and abdomen out for you, covered with smeared….Is…Is that blood?

Choso slowly moves his hands up in defense. “Y/n…Just stay calm for me, okay?”

The entire scene was too much for your brain to grasp, your breathing increasing to an unstable pattern, and your eyes looking at every jarring detail doesn’t help ease the thoughts going way too fast for you. The worried expression of your boyfriend has your body at a standstill, and your limbs quiver as if you’re about to give way. So, what are you left to do?

You faint.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

He stares at you, and you stare at him.

He averts his gaze shyly away from you, and you keep yours fixated on his.

Brown orbs teeter meekly to your figure sitting on his bed before reverting back to the other side, and yours refuse to leave his face, practically sinking holes into his forehead. 

This has been going on for five minutes ever since your consciousness returned, and Choso cleaned up the mess in his room and himself — now, he wears a black tank top after cleaning the red stains off his body. After giving you an explanation as to what happened, you haven’t said a single word to him. You only stare at him while pondering questions of your own. And you can tell the lack of communication makes the poor man uncomfortable in the confines of his bedroom. So, for his sake (and your headache-inducing curiosity), you eventually uttered something.

“So,” you say the first word with a long pause, treading carefully on which questions to ask. “Those pills…are filled with blood?”

“Yes…” He admits with his gaze still not away from you. 

“And you take them every day?”

“Twice a day…”

Okay…Next question, “And those small packets,” you point to the dresser where a pile of said red packets stack upon one another. “Also blood?” He nods slowly. “Human blood?”

He finally brings his eyesight to you but with a hurried shake to the head. “No, no! It’s pig’s blood.”

Is that worse or better?? Never mind— You then point to your set of canines. “And your teeth, I’ve never seen them that long...”

“They only get like that when I don’t drink blood for a while. So, when you knocked on my door, I was just about to open a packet. But then I heard your name and kinda panicked…”

“Oh my God…” Everything comes together and hits you all at once. From his pale skin contrasting yours, the unusual tattoo across his face now revealed as a blood mark, or all those times you caught him drinking his super red "beet juice." It all comes down to the only acceptable truth that feels foreign to leave your lips. “…..My boyfriend is a vampire.” 

Choso cringes internally at the words you uttered. The truth has finally come, and he didn’t even mean for it to happen, at least not like this. Who in their right mind would want to reveal to their partner that they’re a blood-sucking monster? It’s the most dreadful talk of his life that Choso has done all his years avoiding. And now you, his sweet, perfect thing, have discovered his abnormal existence.

“That’s…” He cringes harder when you say more words. “So...” Anxiety pools his stomach, mind filled with uneasy guesses on what you’d think of him now. He could only assume the worst; it’s only natural. “...Cool!!”

Wait, what? That’s not what he expected. Way off, actually.

He feels the dent of the bed when you move closer to him, your face merely inches away from his as you examine every single feature of him. It takes the vampiric man aback, holding his breath while watching your face stare at him intensely with your beautiful eyes, beaming with excitement and wonder. And his vision slowly drifts to your lips, watching them move as you ask questions. And he keeps staring until, “—so…Choso!!” He snaps his orbs back to yours, his cheeks blossoming pink. “I’m asking you a question. So, since you’re a vampire, how come you’re not melting or sparkling when the sun touches you? Is that why you wear black all the time?”

“You mean that stuff from the books and movies?” He questions your logic, but it’s not your fault; he’s sure many others would’ve asked the same. “I don’t know about melting, but my skin gets dry if I stay out too long.”

You hum along to his answer, nodding as if you were in a lecture. “How come Yuuji isn’t a vampire, or at least half? Wait, does he know!?”

“No! No, he doesn’t. I became a vampire because my father was a vampire and turned me and my mother into one. I think I was around the age of twenty. After she died and my dad found Itadori’s mom, he didn’t change her into one. So, with that luck, I guess he isn’t fully a vampire. But I wouldn’t blow past it if he has some characteristics…”

“I see.” Again, you nod along. That might explain some things, like why he’s so fricken fast when he plays sports and that crazy-like strength he has… “So, how long have you been like this?”

“Almost a hundred and thirty.” 

Woah. “And when have—I’m sorry, how long have you tasted human blood?”

Choso ponders on that question for a few seconds before answering. “I started when I became one. I try not to have it as I did back then; the last time I had it was around two years ago. But even then, I switched more into donated or pig’s blood for the past four decades.” 

“Do you ever have cravings for human blood?” Was that too much to ask? It possibly was because Choso makes a face that conveys slight objection. Yet your mind genuinely wanted to know.

“I do, but I try not to act on them. Especially now that I have a human brother, and you…I guess it doesn’t feel right that I do so, ya know.”

His response replays in your mind, not because you were confused but because you understood where he was coming from. You’re sure it wasn’t easy for him to go around and sink his fangs into human flesh back then; modern times should make the task a lot easier with so many people on this earth. Although, you can imagine how hard it must have been for Choso to ignore an urge like that, specifically when it caters to his whole being. Alternatives such as pills and blood packets can only do so much.

“..…Have you ever thought of biting me?” 

The question came out on its own as your curiosity got the best of you. Yet you don’t regret asking because it’s not impossible to think of ever happening.

Choso’s brown eyes look into yours sincerely, releasing a heavy sigh as if the truth was weighing him down. “…Yes.” 

Your expression doesn’t change, remaining neutral. There’s no point in asking why because you can practically answer that yourself: he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s very considerate, so no wonder he’d put your health and well-being above all else. So, why not do the same for him? “…Would you like to taste mine?”

His eyes widen at your proposal, surveying your face to see any twinges or crack soft a smile that entails a joke. There were none, your expression exhibiting nothing but honesty. “A-Are you sure??”

You nod with a smile. “Yup. I mean, it’s not every day someone gets to have a vampire taste their blood — let alone see a vampire, period. Besides,” you stretch out your arm, your wrist stationed in front of Choso. “If it were any other random vampire, I’d probably throw garlic their way.” 

The man scoffs at your comment. “Something also you see in books and movies, Y/n.”

“Whatever,” the two of you laugh at your silliness. “But I’m serious, Chocho. I’m fine as long you’re the one doing it. So, go on.” 

A moment of hesitation keeps him in his thoughts, the mental cogs of his brain deciphering what course of action he should take. But he does take your wrist with a large hand, bringing it towards his mouth. And before you know it, the vampiric man unsheathes his fangs out for display and sinks them into your flesh, tearing the skin as they pierce through. 

The sharp pain was expected, but you still forced your eyes shut and took in a big inhale. Choso watches your reaction as his fangs take in a sample of your blood for him to taste. The familiar texture of the body fluid courses through him, and drips of it slide down to his tongue. You exhale through your mouth, pursed lips blowing out cool air. It felt as though two needles were simultaneously stabbing your wrist, your hand forming into a fist to situate yourself through the hurtful sensation. 

And Choso just keeps watching you as he drinks your red fluid, taking in your graceful reaction. He knows it hurts, but you don’t say anything, pushing through it for the sake of him. He examines your steady breathing, eyes sewn shut, and plump limps agape for inhalation. You looked so good like this — tasted good as well, very sweet with a floral scent; it must have been your signature perfume. It intoxicates him, thinking of your body and fragrance on him and your sweet taste on his tastebuds. It ignites something inside him. Something that he hadn’t experienced in a long time…

“Choso?” You call out to him as his blinks signal that he heard you. “You done there? Don’t want you sucking my arm dry.” You jest to him.

He takes the hint and removes his teeth from your wrist, licking the two pierced holes of excess blood that seeps out. “My bad.”

You tease him some more. “Do I taste that good to you?” You didn’t expect him to give you a curt nod, a silent compliment from your boyfriend. “O–Oh…That’s good to know…” You say timidly, gaze averting downwards. Then, you notice something in the crotch of his pants. You gasp: a pinched tent. Choso follows your sight, finding out about his predicament to his horror. He opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him. “Can I take care of it?” 

Again, Choso tries to say something, but no words dare to come out as you crawl up towards him. His brain short circuits at your movement, his back hitting the headboard of his bed. His blush creeps around to his ears, contrasting his pale skin and chocolate-colored hair. You smile at him; he’s so adorable and shy about this. “Mind I take the lead for a minute?” You ask for permission, even though the answer is quite clear when he peers at your lips. He nods, your face drawing inward and your soft lips landing on his.

One kiss. Two kisses and a moan. Three kisses pass, and it’s at this point that you two can’t get off each other. As his hand snakes to the back of your head to deepen the kiss, he takes your mewls with his lips, the insertion of his tongue making your toes curl. 

Taking the lead as promised, you bring a hand down to the zipper of his ripped jeans, bringing the zipper and the clothing down to throw on the floor. Your fingers curl around the band of his black boxer briefs, pulling them down to reveal his lo— WHAT THE FUCK!!??

His erection springs out from his underwear, and what you’re met with is a fucking behemoth. For one, the thing was way longer than you anticipated — most definitely the longest you’ve had within reach. And because of its length, it looked so pretty to look at. The way his precum trickles down his glans to the underside is so magnificent to your eyes that you’re practically stuck looking at it. And…Is that a piercing right at his frenulum? Oh, wow. Vampire dick, huh.

“Heh, you like what you see, princess?” Suddenly, you feel so small from being called out with that little tease from your boyfriend. You give him a condescending expression, making him chuckle to himself. And who told him to call you that cute nickname!?… Keep going.

Back to the matter, you ogle at his dick again and mentally prep yourself by slowly moving your hand toward it. Your fingers curl around the base and unhurriedly stroke him to figure out a good pace to start. A moan from Choso entails that you know what you’re doing, so you dial up the speed and go further up, stopping your strokes from his piercing down to the base.

He becomes more vocal as your friction becomes more confident, spitting on your hand and tightening your grip to make it easier for his rough skin to slide across your palm. Sticking with a firm and consistent rhythm, you watch your hand go to work on his shaft, watching more of his precum leak and slide down to your fingers. It was so lewd yet so arousing; you feel the throbbing heat between your legs begins to form, swaying your ass to ease the pleasurable sensation while instructing a pornographic act.

“Ahhh, ahhnn, oh shit…” He stammers to give you a proper response, your hand feeling too good. “Oh fuck, your hand feels so good, angel, so goo—Nhhhh!!”

“Really?” You can’t deny the pride you feel for yourself, so you move down to situate between his legs. “That’s all that matters, then.” You bring your free hand to massage his testicles and cover more surface, and more of Choso’s whines and croaks fill the space, his hips bucking to ensure more friction and pleasure on his end.

With the rate this is going, more of his essence leaks out from his urethra, and the raunchy image playing right in front of you has your lips quiver. An intrusive thought roams around your brain while looking at his pink glans. You chew on your lips as you decide on what to do. And when you finally do, it’s now or never.

With a gulp, you bring the tip of his cock to your lips, and the man sharply gasps at the wet sensation of your tongue on his glans. The precum leaves a salty aftertaste on your tastebuds, proving that this is happening: you’re giving your vampiric boyfriend a blowjob right now. Deciding to take things to the next level, you intake more of his inches as much as you can. Not the whole thing because you know you’d probably choke, so you take your time inhaling his length at a comfortable pace and manner. And once you bob your head, the hisses and groans from Choso should give you an idea that he’s feeling elated.

“Haahh…Mmmph…Y/n, your mouth feels so good—Oh shit…” He brings a hand down to the top of your head, a sign you can guess that he wants you to keep going. And so you do, speeding up your motions. Your mouth sucks and teases the underside of his dick, your tongue curves and licks around the piercing of his frenulum, and he jerks when you slowly teasingly lick from the base to the tip. You bring your hand to the rest of the inches you couldn’t cover, your pretty fingers sliding up and down his dick while your free hand comes to his balls for you to massage. The sudden contact of your hands wasn’t expected, his body jolting to the sensations of your tongue and fingers around him, kneading his scrotum as you playfully lick on his cockhead. “—Khhh, ohhhh, fuck…Y/n, baby, I’m—Ahahhh!!”

From the sound of it, he was bound to release his load. So you prepare and bring the tip back into your warm mouth, urging the man to climax. With a few more pumps from your hands coinciding with the laps and sucks of your plump lips, he ruts his groin to your face as his essence spreads inside your oral cavity. And you take it like a champ, sucking every pump to your throat, not letting the tip go until he finished. So, once his body calms down, you release him, wiping off the trail of saliva from your mouth.

Yet it doesn’t stop there; of course, it doesn’t.  Because Choso’s cock is very much still sprung and active from your blowjob, meaning it’s inevitable that you’re going to move on to the next phase. And judging by the sheer length of this thing, you have no idea how that shit is gonna fit inside of you. Damn, vampire dick sure is something…

“Y/n?” You snap back from your thoughts when Choso calls out to you, noticing you gawking at his size. “You don’t have to do the rest if you don’t want, baby. I can take care of it.”He’s so sweet looking out for you as he’s aware that you’re a little worried. 

But you surprise him when you exit off the bed for a quick second, removing your leggings and underwear for the carpet to keep for you. The same thing goes for your matching bra. And as you crawl back to bed, his wide eyes never leave your lower figure, watching you lie on your back with your head on a pillow and your legs spread wide. “As long as you take the lead, I’ll be fine, Chocho.”

It’s his turn to gulp and ease his dry throat before getting on his knees and positioning himself between your legs, dark brown orbs intaking every detail of your cunt that’s exposed for him. You chew on your lip, “It’s embarrassing if you stare so hard at it, ya know…”

“S-Sorry,” He apologizes while getting back to the task. He grabs ahold of his length and aligns the tip to your wet entrance, and your breath hitches at the contact. “I’ll go real slow, okay?”You give a couple of honest nods for confirmation, and he watches your breathing. When he notes your inhales and exhales, he pushes into your folds. With every inhale you take, he nudges further into you. The pain gets bitter and bitter by the second, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you. “Relax for me, angel, relax.” He comes down to whisper those words to ear; swear to God, you could’ve moaned right there and then. However, you switch your focus to following his advice, reminding your body to stop resisting the unfamiliar limb making entry. The pain is still present, but you count your breaths to distract your mind until the tip finally makes it in, a sharp gasp sneaking past you and a hiss from Choso when you involuntarily grasp around him while he pushes more of him inside.  

However, he doesn’t move right away, giving you as much time as you need to catch a steady pattern to breathe along with. Your head already feels too hot, and your chest feels too tight to breathe. You peer down to find that he is only halfway in, and there’s no amount of words to describe the disbelief you’re experiencing at this moment. “I feel…so full already…” You nearly choke on your words. You can practically feel his piercing scrape your insides.

“I know, princess,” he comforted you with a kiss on the forehead while lifting your shirt, your chest meeting his cold, slender fingers that massaged your mounds. All the while, he pushes his cock further into your chasm, and your breathing goes shaky as you try and take every inch of him. Then all of a sudden, your body jolts upward when you feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix; you can only guess now that everything’s entirely inside you. Oh yeah, vampire dick is most definitely something else. Tears start to water your eyes, and your hands come around Chos’s neck, the coldness of his nape piercing greeting your skin. “—Mmmm, fuckin’ Christ…I’m gonna go start moving now, Y/n.”

You appreciate the warning because, with the way his hips start to create a motion to and fro from your entrance, it’s surreal that his shaft is churning your inner wall with minimal effort. Shivers crawl up your spine every time the base meets your southern lips, grazes to your most tender spots result in you chewing on your bottom lip, and God, the occasional jab to your cervix is something you’ll have to get used to. He sucks on one nipple while the other hand tends to the other, the laps of his tongue on the bud of your breast feel so good, and you gasp when his fangs lightly graze it. So exhilaratingly dangerous. 

“Choso—Ohhhh…” you coo, your head thrown back when he tweezes your nipple simultaneously with the jab to your cervix. The pace of his thrusts increases a tad, and your voice becomes more vocal than before, filling his bedroom with your breathy whimpers. “So big, you’re so big for me—Ohooo!”

“—Mmfhh!! Fuck, you feel so good for me, princess…Shiiiit—” The way your cunt wraps around him so tightly causes him to rut into you harder and faster, evoking spine-chilling whines from your puffy, bitten lips. Your disheveled figure squirms on the sheets, holding onto Choso for dear life as he churns your tummy insides. Your fragrance attacks his nose when he kisses your neck, nibbling the skin to listen to your cute gasps more. Then, the urge rises. He opens his mouth for his fangs to scrape your neck.

“Ahahhnn!! Ch–Chosooo!!” 

Your voice halts his unconscious, realizing what he was about to do and quickly withdrawing his teeth from your neck. No, not now… He thinks to himself, moving his fangs to your shoulder instead. The bite elicits a sharp shriek from your unbeknownst self. Your nails dig into his shoulders, the pain motivating him to explore more of your body with your mouth. 

You can feel his kisses trail down your collarbone and breast, sucking on your nipples once more before leaving a tiny bite. You clamp around his girth as a response, which jabs into your cervix repeatedly with precision. More kisses and licks later, and he leaves a bite mark by your collarbone, sucking on the spot to taste more of your sweet blood. Your mind goes dizzy with the constant of his lips and teeth, and the commotion down south has you wrap your legs around him, caging him in as your climax is soon to come.

“—Nnaahh! Ahaahhnn!! Oh, God, Ohmyfuckin’Go—Hhmmff!!” Choso leads a hand down to your clitoris, and you see stars in no time. “Chosooo!! Yer handsss, you’re gonna make me cummm!! Ooooh, shhahhh!!”

Choso listens to your pleas with attentive ears, his fingers swiping rampantly on your clit. Your choked sobs are so beautiful to hear. The way your walls grasp around his length entails you’re about to come on him any second now. “Go on, my angel. Ring me out—Hnnghh!! So fuckin’ tight…”

Erratic ruts to your sloppy cunt cause wet noises to fill your eardrums, and the heat in your face is unbearable while your head pounds harshly. With the swipes on your clit and him grinding his cock to your tender spot, it’s apparent that you two come concurrently. He fills your cunt with his anticipated load while your velvety walls contract around him euphorically, and exchanged pants fill the space between your sweaty bodies. 

The two of you experience shocks of your own as your heaving bodies rest on each other, Choso nuzzling his face to your neck as his hand softly massages your breast. Your body calms down, gradually exiting your blissful haze. But it tenses again when you feel another sharp pain in your shoulder, and you snicker while pulling his ear to tease. 

“Let you have a taste, now you’re already hooked, huh…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Choso uses a washcloth to dab on the bite marks around your body, gently pressing down on it and wiping off any blood that leaves your newly added markings. The warm cloth feels good on your cold skin — as if the stinging sensation subsides in seconds. 

“You know,” You hum along as he takes care of your body. “I didn’t think you’d be that much of a biter.”

“Sorry,” he moves to your front, dabbing the teeth marks on your breasts and shoulders. You can see the hint of pink that flushes his cheeks and ears. “Got a little carried away…”

You giggle. “No need to apologize, Chocho.” The nickname has him blush harder. He’s so cute when he’s flustered. “Just goes to show that you were enjoying the moment.”

His hands suddenly stop moving, the washcloth now around your wrist. “…Did you?” Caramel eyes dare to peek at yours. “Did you enjoy it?”

You could tell that the question carried a deep-rooted meaning. Not only was this the first time you and Choso had sex, but it was also within the same day you found out he was a vampire. If you were in his shoes, you could guess he’d probably think you didn’t like the experience or found it heavily discomforting. Yet that wasn’t the case at all. So, you have to communicate that to him. 

With a warm smile, you let him know, “Yes, I did. I had a great time.” Before you can say more, a random thought prompts you to ask a question. “Hey, I felt you were about to bite my neck, but you didn’t.”

 “Hmm? Oh, umm, yeah, I did. The only way for someone to become a vampire is by biting the neck,” He confirms, his gaze drifting down to your wrist as he uses the wet cloth to dab on the mark. “But I don’t want you becoming one now. At least, not without you telling me.”

“Wait, you don't want me to be a vampire?”

“I mean, that’s up to you, honestly. As much as I love you and would love the idea of spending my life with you, that’s only my selfish wish at the end of the day. The choice should be yours to make, not mine.”

You remove your hand from his hold and place it on his cold cheek. The other hand comes up to cup the other, provoking your boyfriend to look directly at you. 

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” You have never seen his face change into a flash of pink so quickly; it makes you giggle at him. “Chocho, I appreciate you telling me the truth about yourself. I’m sure it’s been hard on you to carry this burden of pretending to be something you’re not, especially with me. So, again, thank you…However, I can’t really see myself as a vampire, at least right now. My life seems to be at a good place right now, and I want to experience it first-hand, ya know. With you by my side.”

You know Choso is listening to you word-for-word; his brown eyes never leaving your face is evidence of such. So you continue: “So, until then, let me be human for a while longer. When the time is right, I’ll let you know. Sounds good?”

The brown-haired man gives you a smile before answering, resulting in yours broadening. “I’m cool with that.”

You nod. “Cool.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…You want more of my blood, huh.”

���…..I’m sorry,” you laugh at his awkwardness. “You just smell so good. And you taste sweet…”

“In that case,” you withdraw your hands from his cheek and extend an arm out for him. “Have one last taste.”

There’s hesitance when his hand grabs ahold of your wrist. But when he knows you’re complying and on board with this, Choso brings your wrist to his lips, his fangs pierce down on your skin, and he sucks your blood. The pain this time around wasn’t too excruciating. Maybe with all the bites you have on your body right now, you came around and got used to it. 

And who knows? Perhaps you’ll grow to love the sensation soon enough.

“Yo! I’m back!” The two of you freeze. A familiar voice from the other side of the hallway brings you back to the present moment. You then remember that Yuuji promised to return from the store and pizza place. And seeing as though time has passed enough for him to be done, the warmth of your body shifts to a disturbing shiver when the bedroom door opens up. “I got the pizzas and left them on top of the oven—“

The salmon-haired other stopped mid-sentence when his eyesight landed in your direction. You can only imagine what’s going through his mind when he looks at you and Choso because that was the same experience you went through a few hours back.

Yuuji looks at the two of you on top of the bed. Clothes decorating the carpeted floor, both your bodies free and nude, your tits out for him to see crystal clear. One of your hands holds a washcloth that harbors red, bloody stains. The other hand stretched out towards Choso’s mouth, where the younger notices fangs withdrew from your wrist. The newly drawn blood from your new mark connects to the sharp teeth of his older brother.

Thirty seconds go by where no one says anything, just three pairs of eyes and figures falling victim to the discomfiting silence of this situation. Until Yuuji starts to uncomfortably laugh at the sight before him for a few seconds. And then suddenly, he stops, and his balance gives way for his body to meet with the floor beneath him.

He fainted.

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly <3 header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by the amazing @/cafekitsune!!

[badnewswhatsleft]

rock sound #312 (nov 2024)

transcript below cut:

ROCK SOUND 25 ICON

FALL OUT BOY

A BAND THAT CAPTURED THE HEARTS, MINDS AND HEADPHONES OF A GENERATION OF KIDS WORLDWIDE, FALL OUT BOY UNDOUBTEDLY CHANGED THE LANDSCAPE OF THE ALTERNATIVE SCENE FOREVER, NEVER AFRAID TO EXPERIMENT, TAKE CHANCES AND MAKE BOLD CHOICES AS THEY PUSHED FORWARD. FOLLOWING A SUMMER SPENT EXPLORING THE 'DAYS OF FALL OUT PAST', PATRICK STUMP AND PETE  WENTZ REFLECT ON THEIR PATH FROM POP PUNK, HARDCORE MISFITS TO ALL-CONQUERING, STADIUM-FILLING SONGWRITERS AS THEY ACCEPT THEIR ROCK SOUND 25 ICON AWARD.

WORDS JAMES WILSON-TAYLOR

PHOTOS ELLIOTT INGHAM

Let's begin with your most recent performance which was at When We Were Young festival in Las Vegas. It was such a special weekend, how are you reflecting on that moment?

PATRICK: It's wild, because the band, I think, is going on 23 years now, which really came as a surprise to me. I know it's this thing that old people always say, 'Man, it really goes by so fast', but then it happens to you and you're just taken aback. There were so many times throughout the weekend, every 10 minutes, where I'd turn around and see somebody and be like, 'Holy shit, I haven't seen you in 18 years', or something crazy like that. It was hard not to have a good time. When I was going up to perform with Motion City Soundtrack, which was an exciting thing in itself, I turn around and Bayside is there. And I haven't seen Bayside since we toured with them. God, I don't remember when that was, you know? So there was so much of that. You couldn't help but have a good time.

PETE: I mean, that's an insane festival, right? When they announce it, it looks fake every time. The lineup looks like some kid drew it on their folder at school. For our band, the thing that's a little weird, I think, is that by deciding to change between every album, and then we had the three year break which caused another big time jump, I think that it would be hard for us to focus on one album for that show. We're a band where our fans will debate the best record. So it was amazing that we were able to look backwards and try to build this show that would go through all the eras - nod to Taylor obviously on that one. But it's also an insane idea to take a show that should really be put on for one weekend in a theatre and then try to take it around the world at festivals. The whole time on stage for this particular show production, I'm just like 'Is this thing going to go on time?' Because if the whole thing is working totally flawlessly, it just barely works, you know what I mean? So I give a lot of credit to our crew for doing that, because it's not really a rock show. I know we play rock music and it's a rock festival, but the show itself is not really a rock production, and our crew does a very good job of bending that to fit within the medium.

That show allows you to nod to the past but without falling fully into nostalgia. You are still pushing the band into newer places within it.

PATRICK: That's always been a central thing. We're a weird band, because a lot of bands I know went through a period of rejecting their past, and frankly, I encounter this thing a lot, where people have expected that we stopped interacting with older material. But we always maintained a connection with a lot of the older music. We still close with 'Saturday'. So for us, it was never about letting go of the past. It was about bringing that along with you wherever you go. I'm still the same weird little guy that likes too much music to really pin down. It's just that I've carried that with me through all the different things that I've done and that the band has done. So for us, in terms of going forward and playing new stuff, that's always the thing that's important to me; that there should be new stuff to propel it. I never wanted to be an artist that just gave up on new music and went out and played the hits and collected the check and moved on. It's all got to be creative. That's why I do it. I want to make new music. That's always why I do it. So something like When We Were Young is kind of odd really. It's an odd fit for that, because it's nostalgic, which is not really my vibe all that much. But I found a lot of nostalgia in it. I found a lot of value in looking back and going 'Wow, this was really cool. It was amazing that we did this, that we all did this'. That scene of bands, we're all old now, but it has taken off into such a moment culturally that people can point to.

Let's jump all the way back to the first ever Fall Out Boy show. There is very little evidence of it available online but what are your memories of that performance?

PATRICK: So the very first Fall Out Boy show was at DePaul University in a fancy looking dining hall. I actually applied to DePaul, but I never went there because the band went on tour. I think there were only two or three other bands. One was a band called Stillwell, who were kind of a math rock emo band, and then this heavier, more metallic band. And then we were there, and we had a guitar player, John Flamandan, who I have not seen since that show. He was only in the band for a week or two, and we were still figuring ourselves out. We had three songs and I had never sung before in front of people. I did a talent show at school one time when I was a kid and theatre kind of stuff where you would sing, but it was more in that context. And I was also a kid too. This was the first time ever that I'm the singer for a band and I was fucking terrified. We had a drummer named Ben Rose, really great guy. I haven't seen Ben in a million years, either, but we were still figuring ourselves out. The other thing is that all of us, with me being the exception, were in other bands, and all of our other bands were better than Fall Out Boy was. We were very sloppy and didn't know what we were doing, and so I don't think any of us really took it seriously. But there was a thing that was really funny about it, where even though we kind of thought we sucked, and even though we weren't really focusing on it, we had a lot of fun with each other. We enjoyed trying this other thing, because we were hardcore kids, and we were not the pop punk kids and the pop punk bands in town, that was like 'the thing', and we were not really welcome in that. There was a fun in trying to figure out how to make melodic and pop music when we really didn't have any history with that. It was very obvious that we didn't know what we were doing at the beginning.

So when did it begin to feel like things were finally clicking? When did you find your roles and what you wanted the band to be? 

PETE: In regards to the music, I liked Fall Out boy, way before I probably should have. I remember playing the early demos and it giving me a feeling that I hadn't felt with any of the other bands that I had been in. Now, looking back on it, I might have been a tad early on that. Then as far as the roles, I think that they've been carving themselves out over time. We've always allowed ourselves to gravitate to our strengths. Between me and Patrick, we'd probably make one great, atypical rock artist if we were one person. Because our strengths are things that the other doesn't love as much. But I think that what has happened more is it's less of a fight now and there's more trust. We have a trust with each other. There's things that Patrick will play for me or explain to me, and I don't even really need him to explain it, because I trust him. I may not totally understand it, but I trust him as an artist. On the other side of that, it's also very nice to have someone who can veto your idea, you know what I mean? It's nice to have those kind of checks and balances.

PATRICK: I had been in this band called Patterson, and all three of the other guys sang in kind of a gravelly, Hot Water Music vibe. I was not intending to be a singer, but I would try and sing backups and, it wasn't a criticism, but there was this vibe that, while I could do the gravelly thing, my voice was coming through and it didn't fit. It was too pretty and that became a thing I was kind of embarrassed of. So when Fall Out Boy started, I was actively trying to disguise that and mute it and hide behind affectation. Pete would really push me to stretch my vowels because that was in vogue in pop punk at the time. There were all these different ways that we were trying to suppress me, musically, because we were just trying to figure out how to do the things that the bands we liked did. But that wasn't really us, you know? It's really funny, because 'Take This To Your Grave' was recorded in three sections, about six months apart. Over the course of that time, I can hear us figuring it out. I think a really defining moment for me was 'Saturday', because I am not brave, I am not a bold person, and I do not put myself out there. When I was showing the band 'Saturday', we were jamming on the bit after the second chorus, and I was mumbling around, just mucking my way through it, and I did the falsetto thing. I didn't think anyone could hear me over us bashing around in Joe's parents house in this tiny little room. But Pete stopped, and he goes, 'Do that again'. I was so terrified of doing that in front of these guys, because you gotta remember, I was incredibly shy, but also a drummer. I'd never sung in front of anyone before, and now I'm singing in a band and I'm certainly not going to take chances. So I thought the falsetto thing was really not going to happen, but when I did it, there was this really funny thing. Somehow that song clicked, and it opened up this door for us where we do something different than everybody else. We were aiming to be a pop punk or hardcore band, but we found this thing that felt more natural to me.

As you embarked on Warped Tour, simultaneously you were finding this huge level of pop and mainstream success. How was it navigating and finding your way through those two very different spaces?

PATRICK: I used to work at a used record store and what shows up is all the records after their success. So I got really acquainted and really comfortable with and prepared for the idea of musical failure. I just wanted to do it because I enjoyed doing it. But in terms of planning one's life, I was certain that I would, at most, get to put out a record and then have to go to school when it didn't work out. My parents were very cautious. I said to them after 'Take This To Your Grave' came out that I'm gonna see where this goes, because I didn't expect to be on a label and get to tour. I'm gonna give it a semester, and then it will almost certainly fail, and then after it fails, I'll go to school. And then it didn't fail. Warped Tour was very crazy too, I was talking about this at When We Were Young with My Chem. Both of us were these little shit bands that no one cared about when we booked the tour. Then we got to the tour, and all these people were showing up for us, way more than we expected, way more than Warped Tour expected. So Warped Tour was putting both of us on these little side stages, and the stages would collapse because people were so excited. It was this moment that came out of nowhere all of a sudden. Then we go to Island Records, and I had another conversation with my parents, because every band that I had known up to that point, even the biggest bands in town, they would have their big indie record and then they would go to the major label and drop off the face of the planet forever. So I was certain that was going to happen. I told them again, I'm going to put out this record, and then I'll go to school when this fails. 

PETE: I think that if you really wanted someone to feel like an alien, you would put them on TRL while they were on Warped Tour. You know what I mean? Because it is just bananas. On our bus, the air conditioning didn't work, so we were basically blowing out heat in the summer, but we were just so happy to be on a bus and so happy to be playing shows. You go from that to, two days later, stepping off the bus to brush your teeth and there's a line of people wanting to watch you brush your teeth. In some ways, it was super cool that it was happening with My Chemical Romance too because it didn't feel as random, right? It feels more meant to be. It feels like something is happening. To be on Warped Tour at that time - and if you weren't there, it would be probably hard to imagine, because it's like if Cirque Du Soleil had none of the acrobatics and ran on Monster energy drink. It was a traveling circus, but for it to reach critical mass while we were there, in some ways, was great, because you're not just sitting at home. In between touring, I would come home and I'd be sitting in my bedroom at my parents house. I would think about mortality and the edge of the whole thing and all these existential thoughts you feel when you're by yourself. But on Warped Tour, you go to the signing, you play laser tag, you go to the radio station. So in some ways, it's like you're in this little boot camp, and you don't really even think about anything too much. I guess it was a little bit of a blur.

Pete, when you introduced 'Bang The Doldrums' at When We Were Young, you encouraged the crowd to 'keep making weird shit'. That could almost be a mantra for the band as a whole. Your weirder moments are the ones that made you. Even a song like 'Dance Dance' has a rhythm section you never would have expected to hear on a rock track at that time.

PETE: You know, I just watched 'Joker 2' and I loved it. I do understand why people wouldn't because it subverts the whole thing. It subverts everything about the first one. That's something I've always really loved, when I watch artists who could keep making the same thing, and instead they make something that's challenging to them or challenging to their audience. Sometimes you miss, sometimes you do a big thing and you miss, and we've definitely done that. But I gotta say, all the things that I've really loved about art and music, and that has enriched my life, is when people take chances. You don't get the invention of anything new without that. To not make weird stuff would feel odd, and I personally would much rather lose and miss doing our own thing. To play it safe and cut yourself off around the edges and sand it down and then miss also, those are the worst misses, because you didn't even go big as yourself. This is where we connect with each other, we connect by our flaws and the little weird neuroses that we have. I rarely look at something and go 'Wow, that safe little idea really moved me'. I guess it happens, but I think about this with something like 'Joker 2' where this director was given the keys and you can just do anything. I think a lot of times somebody would just make an expected follow up but some people turn right when they're supposed to turn left. That's always been interesting on an artistic level, but at the same time, I think you're more likely to miss big when you do that.

PATRICK: Going into 'From Under The Cork Tree', I had this sense that this is my only shot. It has already outperformed what I expected. I don't want to be locked into doing the same thing forever, because I know me. I know I'm not Mr. Pop Punk, that's just one of many things I like. So I would be so bummed if for the rest of my life, I had to impersonate myself from when I was 17 and have to live in that forever. So I consciously wanted to put a lot of weird stuff on that record because I thought it was probably my only moment. 'Sugar, We're Goin Down' was a fairly straight ahead pop punk song but even that was weird for us, because it was slow. I remember being really scared about how slow it was, because it's almost mosh tempo for the whole song, which was not anything we had done up to that point. But in every direction, in every song, I was actively trying to push the boundaries as much as I could. 'Dance, Dance' was one of those ones where I was seeing what I can get away with, because I might never get this chance again. We were on tour with a friend's band, and I remember playing the record for them. I remember specifically playing 'Our Lawyer…' that opens the record, which has that 6/8 time feel, and they kind of look at me, like 'What?'. Then I played 'Dance, Dance', and they're like, 'Hey man, you know, whatever works for you. It's been nice knowing you'. But I just knew that, on the off chance that I ended up still being a musician in my 40s, I wanted to still love the music that we made. I didn't want to ever resent it. It's ironic because people say that bands sell out when they don't make the same thing over and over again. But wait a second. Say that again. Think about that.

That attitude seemed to carry directly into 'Infinity On High'. If you may never end up doing this again then let's make sure we bring in the orchestra while we still can... 

PATRICK: That was literally something that I did say to myself this might be the last time, the likelihood is we're going to fail because that's what happens, so this might be the last time that I ever get a chance to have somebody pay for an orchestra and a choir. I always think of The Who when they did 'A Quick One, While He's Away' and there's a part where they go 'cello, cello', because they couldn't afford real cellos, they couldn't afford players. That's what I thought would happen for me in life. So I went in and thought, let's do it all. Let's throw everything at the wall, because there's no chance that it's going to happen again. So many things came together on that record, but I didn't expect it. 'Arms Race' was a very weird song, and I was shocked when management went along with it and had kind of decided that would be the single. I was in disbelief. It did not feel like a single but it worked for us. It was a pretty big song and then 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs' was easily the big hit off that record. So then we have two hit songs off of an album that I didn't even know would come out at that point. But again, it was very much just about taking the risks and seeing what the hell happened.

As you went on hiatus for a few years, you worked on a number of other creative projects. How did those end up influencing your approach to the band when you returned?

PETE: On the areas of the band where I led, I wanted to be a better leader. When you're younger and you're fighting for your ideas, I don't think that I was the greatest listener. I just wanted to be a better cog in the machine. When you're in a band originally, no one gives you the little band handbook and says 'these are the things you should do', you know? I just wanted to be a better version of who I was in the band. 

PATRICK: There's a combination of things. 'Soul Punk' is a weird record. I love that record but I kind of resent that record for so many things. It's my solo record, but it's also not very me in a lot of ways. I had started with a very odd little art rock record, and then I had some personal tragedies happen. My EP that I put out far out sold expectations so then all of a sudden, Island Records goes, 'Oh, we think this could actually be something we want singles for'. I think we had all expected that I would be putting out a smaller indie record but then all of a sudden they were like 'oh, you could be a pop star'. So then I have to retrofit this art rock record into pop star hit music, and also channel personal tragedy through it. I hadn't ever really been a front man - I'd been a singer, but I hadn't really been a front man, and I hadn't really written lyrics, certainly not introspective, personal lyrics. So that whole record is so strange and muted to me. So I went from that album, which also failed so fucking hard - I should have gone to school after that one. But Pete had reached out to me just as a friend, and said 'I know you're in your own thing right now, and I know that you're not the kind of person that is going to be in my fantasy football league, so I'm not going to see you unless we make music. But you're my buddy, and that kind of bums me out that I don't see you at all, so I guess we have to make music'. I thought that was a fairly convincing pitch. It's true, that was what we do when we hang out - we make music. So we reconvene, and going into it, I had all these lessons that really made me understand Pete better, because Pete is the natural front end person. So many of our arguments and frustrations and the things that we didn't see eye to eye on, I grew to understand having now been in the position of the point man that had to make all the decisions for my solo thing. It really flipped my understanding of why he said the things he would say, or why he did things he would do. I remember early on thinking he was so pushy, but then, in retrospect, you realise he was doing it for a reason. There's so many little things that really changed for me doing 'Soul Punk' that were not musical but were more about how you run a band and how you run a business, that made me understand and respect him a lot more.

What are memories of that initial return and, specifically, that tiny first show back at the Metro venue in Chicago?

PETE: Those first shows were definitely magical because I really wasn't sure that we would be on a stage again together. I don't have as many memories of some of our other first things. We were just talking about Warped Tour, I don't have many memories of those because it is almost wasted on you when it's a blur and there's so many things happening. But with this, I really wanted to not take it for granted and wanted to take in all the moments and have snapshots in our own heads of that show. I did a lot of other art during the time when we were off, everybody did, but there's a magic between the four of us and it was nice to know that it was real. When we got on that stage again at the Metro for the first time, there was something that's just a little different. I can't really put my finger on it, but it makes that art that we were making separately different than all the other stuff.

Musically, as you moved forward, everything sounded much bigger, almost ready for arenas and stadiums. Was that a conscious decision on your part?

PETE: Patrick felt like he was bursting with these ideas. It felt like these had been lying in wait, and they were big, and they were out there, and whether he'd saved them for those records, I don't really know. That's what it felt like to me. With 'Save Rock And Roll', we knew we had basically one shot. There were really three options; you'll have this other period in your career, no one will care or this will be the torch that burns the whole thing down. So we wanted to have it be at least on our terms. Then I think with 'American Beauty...' it was slightly different, because we made that record as fast as we could. We were in a pop sphere. Is there a way for a band to be competitive with DJs and rappers in terms of response time? Are we able to be on the scene and have it happen as quickly? I think it kind of made us insane a little bit. With 'American Beauty…', we really realised that we were not going to walk that same path in pop culture and that we would need to 'Trojan horse' our way into the conversation in some way. So we thought these songs could be played in stadiums, that these songs could be end titles. What are other avenues? Because radio didn't want this right now, so what are other avenues to make it to that conversation? Maybe this is just in my head but I thought 'Uma Thurman' could be a sister song to 'Dance, Dance' or maybe even 'Arms Race' where it is weird but it has pop elements to it.

PATRICK: I had a feeling on 'Save Rock And Roll' that it was kind of disjointed. It was a lot of good songs, but they were all over the place. So when we went into 'American Beauty…', I really wanted to make something cohesive. I do think that record is very coherent and very succinct - you either like it or you don't, and that's pretty much it all the way through. By the time we got to 'MANIA', I had done all this production and I'd started to get into scoring. The band had done so many things and taken so many weird chances that I just felt free to do whatever. At that point, no one's going to disown me if I try something really strange so let's see what happens. 'Young And Menace' was a big part of that experiment. People hate that song, and that's okay. It was meant to be challenging, it's obviously not supposed to be a pop song. It's an abrasive song, it should not have been a single. However, I do think that record should have been more like that. Towards the end of the production, there was this scramble of like, 'Oh, fuck, we have no pop music on this and we need to have singles' and things like that. That took over that record and became the last minute push. I think the last half of that record was recorded in the span of two weeks towards the end of the recording to try and pad it with more pop related songs. I look at that record and think it should have all been 'Young And Menace'. That should have been our 'Kid A' or something. It should have really challenged people.

But we have spoken before about how 'Folie à Deux' found its audience much later. It does feel like something similar is already beginning to happen with 'MANIA'...

PETE: I agree with you, and I think that's a great question, because I always thought like that. There's things that you're not there for, but you wish you were there. I always thought about it when we put out 'MANIA', because I don't know if it's for everyone, but this is your moment where you could change the course of history, you know, this could be your next 'Folie à Deux', which is bizarre because they're completely different records. But it also seems, and I think I have this with films and bands and stuff as well, that while one thing ascends, you see people grab onto the thing that other people wouldn't know, right? It's like me talking about 'Joker 2' - why not talk about the first one? That's the one that everybody likes. Maybe it's contrarian, I don't really know. I just purely like it. I'm sure that's what people say about 'Folie à Deux' and 'MANIA' as well. But there's something in the ascent where people begin to diverge, you are able to separate them and go 'Well, maybe this one's just for me and people like me. I like these other ones that other people talk about, but this one speaks to me'. I think over time, as they separate, the more people are able to say that. And then I can say this, because Patrick does music, I think that sometimes he's early on ideas, and time catches up with it a little bit as well. The ideas, and the guest on the record, they all make a little bit more sense as time goes on.

'MANIA' is almost the first of your albums designed for the streaming era. Everything is so different so people could almost pick and choose their own playlist.

PETE: Of course, you can curate it yourself. That's a great point. I think that the other point that you just made me think of is this was the first time where we realised, well, there's not really gatekeepers. The song will raise its hand, just like exactly what you're saying. So we should have probably just had 'The Last Of The Real Ones' be an early single, because that song was the one that people reacted to. But I think that there was still the old way of thinking in terms of picking the song that we think has the best chance, or whatever. But since then, we've just allowed the songs to dictate what path they take. I think that that's brilliant. If I'd had a chance to do that, curate my own record and pick the Metallica songs or whatever,that would be fantastic. So it was truly a learning experience in the way you release art to me.

PATRICK: After 'MANIA', I realised Fall Out Boy can't be the place for me to try everything. It's just not. We've been around for too long. We've been doing things for too long. It can't be my place to throw everything at the wall. There's too much that I've learned from scoring and from production now to put it all into it. So the scoring thing really became even more necessary. I needed it, emotionally. I needed a place to do everything, to have tubas and learn how to write jazz and how to write for the first trumpet. So then going into 'So Much (For) Stardust', it had the effect of making me more excited about rock music again, because I didn't feel the weight of all of this musical experimentation so I could just enjoy writing a rock song. It's funny, because I think it really grew into that towards the end of writing the record. I'd bet you, if we waited another month, it would probably be all more rock, because I had a rediscovered interest in it.

It's interesting you talk about the enjoyment of rock music again because that joy comes through on 'So Much (For) Stardust' in a major way, particularly on something like the title track. When the four of you all hit those closing harmonies together, especially live, that's a moment where everything feels fully cohesive and together and you can really enjoy yourselves. There's still experimental moments on the album but you guys are in a very confident and comfortable space right now and it definitely shows in the music. 

PATRICK: Yeah, I think that's a great point. When you talk about experimentation too and comfort, that's really the thing isn't it? This is always a thing that bugged me, because I never liked to jam when I was a kid. I really wanted to learn the part, memorise it and play it. Miles Davis was a side man for 20 years before he started doing his thing. You need to learn the shit out of your music theory and your instrument - you need to learn all the rules before you break them. I always had that mindset. But at this point, we as a band have worked with each other so much that now we can fuck around musically in ways that we didn't used to be able to and it's really exciting. There's just so much I notice now. There are ways that we all play that are really hard to describe. I think if you were to pull any one of the four of us out of it, I would really miss it. I would really miss that. It is this kind of alchemy of the way everyone works together. It's confidence, it's also comfort. It's like there's a home to it that I feel works so well. It's how I'm able to sing the way I sing, or it's how Andy's able to play the way he plays. There's something to it. We unlock stuff for each other.

Before we close, we must mention the other big live moment you had this year. You had played at Download Festival before but taking the headline slot, especially given the history of Donington, must have felt extra special. 

PETE: It felt insane. We always have a little bit of nerves about Download, wondering are we heavy enough? To the credit of the fans and the other bands playing, we have always felt so welcomed when we're there. There's very few times where you can look back on a time when... so, if I was a professional baseball player, and I'm throwing a ball against the wall in my parents garage as a kid, I could draw a direct link from the feeling of wanting to do that. I remember watching Metallica videos at Donington and thinking 'I want to be in Metallica at Donington'. That's not exactly how it turned out, but in some ways there is that direct link. On just a personal level, my family came over and got to see the festival. They were wearing the boots and we were in the mud. All this stuff that I would describe to them sounds insane when you tell your family in America - 'It's raining, but people love it'. For them to get to experience that was super special for me as well. We played the biggest production we've ever had and to get to do that there, the whole thing really made my summer.

PATRICK: There's not really words for it. It feels so improbable and so unlikely. Something hit me this last year, this last tour, where I would get out on stage and I'd be like, 'Wait, fucking seriously? People still want to see us and want to hear us?' It feels so strange and surreal. I go home and I'm just some schlubby Dad and I have to take out the compost and I have to remember to run the dishwasher. I live this not very exciting life, and then I get out there at Download and it's all these people. Because I'm naturally kind of shy, for years, I would look down when I played because I was so stressed about what was happening. Confidence and all these have given me a different posture so when I go out there, I can really see it, and it really hits you. Download, like you said, we've done before, but there's something very different about where I am now as a person. So I can really be there. And when you walk out on that stage, it is astounding. It forces you to play better and work harder, because these people waited for us. The show is the audience and your interaction with it. In the same way that the band has this alchemy to it, we can't play a show like that without that audience.

[wibben]

Occupational Hazards

Friends Nanami and Higuruma go on a duo mission together... and fall victim to some unexpected effects.

↳ pairing: hiromi higuruma x kento nanami

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bottom!higuruma, top!nanami, sexual tension, sex pollen, forced proximity, friends to enemies to lovers, rough anal sex, fighting, cum is lube, both a bit OOC but we can blame the pollen, generally feral behavior

↳ wc: 13,675

↳ notes: nanami art by @ hikonom on twitter, higuruma art by @ saksak_kazz on twitter. i hope you enjoy <3

“Ah, good, you’re here too!” Higuruma greeted amiably, sauntering into the meeting room with steaming coffee in hand, the kind of shitty, bitter stuff the staff room machine spit out. But at least it woke him up, so maybe that was by design. Sleepy sorcerers were more often than not dead ones. Sinking into the cushioned couch with an early morning groan, arm draped lazily across the backrest, he sighed into the steam.

He tapped, tapped, tapped his paper cup with dancing fingers. “Actually… any idea why we’re here?”

Smack!

Nanami dropped a manila folder onto the table between them with a sharp flick, his expression tight with irritation. “This.” He muttered, the frustration clear in his voice, offering no further explanation.

Higuruma raised a sloping brow and lifted his coffee to his lips, peering pityingly over the warped plastic lid. He is not as bothered by this intrusion to the beginning of his weekend, years spent tethered to work had numbed him to the inconvenience.

Unlike Nanami, who needed it pried away and leaves it with claw marks, spitting smoke like a raging dragon, he is not as jealously possessive of his freetime. Higuruma had long since learned to surrender it with little more than a resigned sigh and a wave in the rearview mirror.

Higuruma bent forward, placing his coffee on the table and knuckled it slowly across to Nanami, the way one might endear oneself to a stray animal. He needed it more, Higuruma thought.

The silence in the room turned meditative, broken by a deep grounding breath from the other man as he watched his plans of baking, and reading, and relaxing and no responsibility turn to dust. Deep breath in… he could bake next weekend and perhaps treat himself to a new book,  luck permitting maybe he would even start it… and breathe out. It gave Nanami a moment to cool, to steady himself before—

Gojo burst into the room, all gale-force energy and unfiltered exuberance, with a complete disregard for any semblance of professionalism and ignorant of the air of resentment stewing from the rigid blonde-turned-gargoyle sitting in the chair across from him.

“Great, you’re both here!” Gojo’s voice was far too chipper for the hour. “Perfect timing. I’ve got a fun little job for you two.”

Nanami looked up, unimpressed, maybe a little murderous. “Are you well aware that it’s a Friday afternoon? Which means that tomorrow is Saturday , which is the weekend and I absolutely will not—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Gojo flapped a dismissive hand as he flopped into the chair opposite them, leaning back with an air of nonchalance that had a vein pulsing in Nanami’s temple. Higuruma watched on with warring amusement and pity, both hidden surreptitiously behind steepled fingers where he kissed his teeth, resisting the overtaking urge to laugh.

“Anyway, there’s this small issue out in the middle of nowhere. Some cursed incidents, blah blah blah, you know the drill. Strange happenings, couples murdering each other nearby— you get the picture, right? Easy peasy. Easy enough to send one of the students really, they could do it in their sleep! I really can’t stress enough how easy it’s gonna be.”

Higuruma raised an eyebrow, finally speaking. “You were supposed to handle this one, weren’t you?”

“Yes, technically,” Gojo grinned, not at all sheepish and wholly unapologetic. “But there’s this festival I’ve been dying to check out. They’ve got all sorts of sweets—mochi, taiyaki, ice cream, you name it! I mean, why waste my time on some low-grade curse when my time is better spent there?”

Nanami’s frown deepened, if that were possible. “This is below our paygrade, then.”

“Exactly! Very astute, Nanamin!” Gojo cheered, completely missing—or more likely ignoring —Nanami’s tone. “Which is why you two are perfect for the job. You can handle it in no time and be back before the weekend’s over. Unless you’d rather join me at the festival? But fair warning, you’ll have to keep up with me while I sample everything. ”

He leaned forward, blinding smile growing wider as if offering the deal of a lifetime complete with spread open palms. But to both Nanami and Higuruma who glanced at each other, reading, it looked much closer to a threat. “So, what do you say? Curse or confections?”

Nanami didn’t even hesitate. “Tell Ijichi to prepare the car.”

Gojo sighed dramatically, as if truly disappointed they weren’t taking him up on his generous offer. “You two are no fun. But alright! You’ll be staying up there, got a place all set up for you. Should be a walk in the park—” he clapped his hands, standing and swaying forward—then back—on mile-long legs.

“Anything else we should know?” Higuruma asked, leaning back in his seat with clinical consideration. Details, details, details —

Gojo shrugged, already halfway out the door with a flippant wave over his shoulder. “Nothing you can’t handle. Just try not to kill each other before the curse does, yeah? Oh, and if you change your mind—”

“We won’t,” Nanami cut him off, already gathering his things.

Higuruma blinked, leaning forward now. Where were the details?

Gojo’s laugh echoed down the hallway as he disappeared, leaving the two men to contemplate the unfortunate turn their day had taken. Higuruma sighed. “He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

Nanami simply scowled. “Inconsiderate… incorrigible… no work ethic— ” he muttered, brushing his hands over a wrinkleless suit as he stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Sleek black wheels hummed along winding woodland backroads, the thick forest outside morphed into a smudgy, dark green blur. Ijichi was laser-focused on the drive, his hands gripping the wheel with his usual sweaty-palmed intensity.

Higuruma gazed out the window and traced the endless stretch of trees with his eyes until they swam with dizzy shapes. He watched until his head felt uncomfortably light, swooping his attention down to his stationary lap for a reprieve. This place was really out there… strange location for a curse.  

“You know,” Higuruma's voice slipped through the quiet, “it could be worse.” He leaned back, letting the car seat handle him as he let out a slow breath. “At least this should be simple. We like simple.”

Beside him, Nanami was the picture of calm, a book delicately cradled in one long-fingered hand. He’d had enough time to calm down, to temper his frustration with resignation; it couldn’t be helped… and this was somehow still better than the alternative of a day stuck with Gojo.

He gave a small, noncommittal hum, flipping a page. He’d long ago trained himself out of car sickness, these drives now offering a rare slice of interim peace—a chance to slowly make dents in his ever-growing reading list. 

“True,” he murmured, eyes never leaving the lines of text. “And I suppose the company could be worse, hm?”

Higuruma turned his head and the beginning of a smile swept over his mouth. “Oh, so much worse,” he agreed, letting his temple knock against the cool glass of the window. “We’ve been through enough to appreciate these quiet ones. In and out.”

Nanami’s eyes remained trained on his book, but there was the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“In and out,” he repeated.

“Maybe we can unwind after this. Grab a drink, like last time.” Nanami's offer slipped out off-hand as he flipped the page, more a passing thought than a concrete plan. If his weekend was going to be hijacked, he might as well make the most of it. And really, drinking with the person he'd be spending it with anyway didn’t seem like the worst idea. Higuruma was good company, always had been.

Higuruma’s grin was immediate, approval reflected briefly in the window’s glass. “I like the way you think!”

As the forest thickened and the road ahead narrowed, their destination creeping closer, there was no tension, no unease. Nanami was not so foolish to ever feel safe on the job, but with Higuruma, he felt something suspiciously close to it.

It was just a simple in-and-out mission—nothing they hadn’t dealt with before.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The sun dipped low on the horizon by the time they arrived, splashing the sky with dramatic strokes of orange and pink that belonged more in an ornately framed and hung painting rather than on the front lines of the job.

As Ijichi brought the car to a crunchy halt on the gravel drive, the sound felt louder than it should have—like the world itself held its breath the same as the three men wrapped in the security of their vehicle. Three heads cranked towards windows and their cheeks squished against fogged glass as they took in their lodgings with the sort of veneration of stumbling upon the carcass of a dead god.

This place felt lost.

Old and rotted wood, planks speared from the sides like splintering teeth, green with creeping lichen and constricting vines that curled around every corner and nook and cranny like veins; pumping life into that which is lifeless, keeping alive that which should’ve long been dead.

Nanami was the first out after a brief moment's hesitation, smoothing his hands down his front and looking prepared to walk into a boardroom rather than the mouth of potential doom. It served to swipe away the sudden sweat on his palms.

The cabin that stood before them looked deceptively quaint, even in its disrepair, like something he’d find on a postcard if he ignored the way it crouched amidst the trees like it was prepared to pounce on them. He also ignored the way it made him want to twist his neck in submission, the instinct to drop to his knees in dogeza and scrape his forehead against the gravel before the steps.

Silence blanketed thick, the kind that makes you strain your ears for something—anything—to break it. But there was nothing. No birdsong, no chirping crickets, no croaking frogs or snapping branches of unseen wildlife. Too quiet, even for somewhere this remote. Like this space existed in its own bubble.

His face remained neutral as he swept the area, taking in the unsettling stillness with a mild frown. He couldn’t sense anything—no curse, no cursed energy, none of the obvious residuals Gojo mentioned.

Quirky little cabin, quirky little mission—Nanami would’ve preferred to be at home with a quirky glass of whiskey instead… not here swallowing nerves like a knock-kneed boy.

Higuruma stepped up beside Nanami, tracing the lines of the cabin’s exterior. It was a shithole. He didn’t see the dissonant charm in it that Nanami did, however faint. It was falling apart, the roof looked a good wind away from caving, and somehow it looked designed that way, because surely it would’ve fallen by now if it was ruined by time.

Something about it felt too perfect, too staged, like it was posing for a picture it knew would be taken—just waiting for someone to notice the way the door seemed to yawn like a hungry mouth, welcoming them to step inside its belly.

He allowed himself a moment of frankly healthy mortal terror before he shook it off.

They were professionals, after all. There was no room for jitters before they’d even crossed the threshold. Especially not because of a house.

Ijichi, meanwhile, looked like he might bolt if given half a chance. His hand shook a little as he passed over their overnight carry ons, eyes darting around like he expected the trees to start whispering or something equally unnerving. Not somewhere he wanted to be at night.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up. Call if you need anything sooner,” he said, trying to sound official, though there was an unmistakable thread of relief that unraveled his voice that he at least gets to leave. He was already halfway back into the car as the last words left his mouth, and Higuruma had to check an eyeroll.

They all felt it, which made him feel marginally better… but that couldn’t be a good sign.

With a final nod, Ijichi took off, the crunch of gravel beneath his tires fading into the distance all too quickly as the sun dipped behind the trees.

Nanami took point after a few seconds more of silent calculation, leading the way up the short, gravelly path toward the door. The wooden door creaked as he nudged it open, a slow, ominous drone that echoed the wrapped hilt of his blade in his closing palm, the sound hung in the air as a sword of damocles—the whole scene balanced on the edge of a razor, expectant and waiting for something to tip it over.

The floors beneath their feet groaned, clearly unimpressed with the sudden intrusion. Nanami was certain the whole place would feel just as unsettling as the outside had, but when they stepped fully into the cabin, they both paused. It was… beautiful.

The room basked in golden light, courtesy of old-fashioned lamps that dotted the space with a gentle, inviting glow. Each piece of furniture advertised rustic charm, worn edges and sturdy frames that practically begged to be sat on. The walls, too, adorned with an array of knickknacks and decorations—each item meticulously arranged.

It was the kind of obviously lived-in space that could lull you into a sense of comfort if you weren’t careful, the kind of place where you could almost forget about the string of suspicious mariticides that had brought them here in the first place.

It was strange, but it was also nice. And in their line of work, nice was a luxury.

Higuruma twisted around Nanami’s back, breathing out a small surprised huh! as he took in the unexpectedly charming interior.

“Not bad,” he remarked, the tension in his shoulders finally easing as he set his bag down on the worn wooden floor. His fingers slowly uncurled from his gavel, knuckles no longer white. “Looks like someone put some thought into the inside, at least.”

“Seems that way,” Nanami agreed, and he was already moving toward the heavy wooden table at the center of the room. He rummaged through his bag—though there wasn’t much to unpack, given the brevity of their planned stay.

Meanwhile, Higuruma allowed himself a moment to wander, not quite settled and seeking to stake out each and every corner of their accommodations, taking in the small details that made the place feel oddly inviting, idly picking up decorations from shelves with an appraising eye—

—and behind them, the door slowly hushed shut, the lock slipping into place with a soft click. Neither man noticed.

Higuruma plucked a ceramic owl from the mantle, his nose wrinkling; not at the decor, which really he found rather charming, but at the streaky, off-yellow trail of dust left in the wake of its removal. He huffed, mentally filing the complaint away.

It wouldn’t do to bring it up to Nanami, not when he was already less than thrilled about being out here at all.

He swiped a finger through the dust, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, eyes narrowing in distaste. Filthy.

His nose twitched, and before he could stop it, a great inhale heralded the inevitable. Higuruma sneezed, the force of it sending up a poof of air that stirred the greater nest of dust bunnies, erupting the mantle into a cloud of yellow powder.

Coughing and cursing, Higuruma hastily set the owl back down and waved a hand in front of his face, stumbling back in a desperate attempt to escape the dusty assault.

Nanami only snorted, amused, offering a polite albeit unconcerned “bless you” over his shoulder. He only looked up when Higuruma continued to cough, bent at the waist and hands planted firmly on cocked knees.

“Are you alright?” He asked, already side-stepping the table to get to him.

“No,” Higuruma spat, straightening with watery eyes and a yellow dusted face. Nanami tried not to laugh at his misfortune.

“Gojo is a filthy, good for nothing liar,” he continued, and at that Nanami could only hum in sympathetic agreement.

“Got a place set up for us my ass, it’s not even clean—what if I had a dust allergy, huh? I could’ve died, right then and there!”

Nanami turned to the sink, wetting a sheet of paper towel and returning to Higuruma with a frown, handing it over. “Well it’s a good thing you don’t, then.”

“But if I did—”

“You don’t.”

Higuruma growled, mulish, but accepted the towel and scrubbed it over his face. Nanami, in an effort to be helpful, patted down Higuruma’s shoulders. But the dust was stubborn, it clung to his hands like childrens chalk, and it was already coating his own suit from how the dust was roused into the air, catching sunbeams as it swirled and resettled.

Beige was a forgiving color, and he found himself grateful for his preference of the shade over Higuruma’s black suits. Too easy to ruin. Impractical, really.

The more he cleaned, the more Higuruma’s initial anger waned, though a faint prickle remained—a persistent itch beneath his skin, in his nose, his hair, and even his mouth. It made him feel twitchy, uncomfortable, but nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix. He sighed, shaking off the lingering disgust with a few quick flaps of his hands.

“What do you think the odds are that we could get takeout delivered all the way out here? I’m starving.”

Nanami paused in his idle, and admittedly futile, attempts to brush the dust from Higuruma’s suit and sighed. “I wouldn’t count on it. No delivery driver would venture this deep into the woods for us. And if they did, by the time the food arrived, it would be cold and hardly worth the effort.”

“Hm.” Higuruma’s responding grunt was vaguely agreeable. Eyes slipped a longing look at the cabin’s surprisingly well-equipped kitchen. “Guess we’re on our own. I can whip up something decent.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “... Since when do you cook?”

“Hey,” Higuruma retorted, hands on his hips with offense and leaving yellow smudgy prints in the fabric. “I’m more than capable in the kitchen, thank you.”

Nanami couldn’t suppress a small smile at that. “I enjoy cooking, but if you insist.”

“Oh, I do,” Higuruma declared with exaggerated seriousness, though the competitively playful glint in his eyes betrayed him. “Just sit back and relax. Or sweep up some dust if you really need to be helpful. Now, shoo—out of my kitchen—”

Nanami laughed, allowing himself to be fluttered and pushed out of the room, shuffling along and casting a quietly fond look over his shoulder.

“Please refrain from setting off smoke alarms.”

Higuruma rolled his eyes, already moving back towards the kitchen. “Just watch. You’ll be begging me to cook more often after this.”

Higuruma started by rifling through the fridge, the pantry, and the cabinets above the sink; rattling glass jars and shuffling cardboard boxes. Gojo wasn't lying about this part at least: the kitchen was set up for them. Fully stocked, and Higuruma reckoned he might actually be able to make something of it. He grinned, feeling pretty confident about his odds. “Beef curry?”

“...mmm.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The cabin was all warm, sappy hues as the sun sank fully behind the trees, painting shadows that reminded Nanami of hot cocoa and knitted blankets, the kind of coziness that comes with soft lamps and fairy lights strung along high beamed ceilings. Outside, the dark now released from the creeping treeline pressed inky hands against the windows.

Nanami leaned back in his chair, eyeing the remnants of his meal on the plate with a neutral stare.

There was something off about it.

His desire not to discourage Hiromi’s good intentions naively outweighed his logic though, because he still ate it all, and maybe he would regret that decision later. It wasn’t bad , not even close—there was no taste of rot or spoil, but something that made his mouth tingle and heart thud unlike any curry seasoning he’d ever had.

“Not bad,” he said, setting his fork down with a measured nod. “Your choice in spices was a bit odd… but not bad at all.”

Higuruma felt awful.

He’d stomached it well, with pinched temples he quietly nursed the headache that crept up during the meal like a bad aftertaste, but stiffened ramrod straight at Nanami’s comment.

His brain thudded, thudded, thudded , each beat a jagged staccato as the words sank in, scraping like sandpaper against his nerves. “Not bad?” he echoed, biting through the cozy atmosphere with a bare-tooth grimace. “What do you mean not bad? It was delicious.”

Nanami blinked, surprised by the sudden sharpness and delicately ran a napkin over his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “I was just offering feedback. It really wasn’t bad.”

The room suddenly felt warmer—too warm. Nanami dismissed it as the lingering heat from the stove, or maybe the spices from the curry, now irritatingly intense as he felt sweat gathering under his collar like humid, panting breaths against his nape.

Higuruma dug his fingers into his temples again, trying to rub away the tension that settled there like a thick fog. It made him woozy, he felt off balance. “Well, I didn’t ask for feedback,” he snapped, the words tumbling out with more venom than he’d intended. He wasn’t usually one to snap so quickly, but something about Nanami’s mild criticism was needling him tonight like a splinter under his skin.

Nanami’s frown deepened. “There’s no need to get so worked up; I apologize for my comment—”

“Worked up?” Higuruma’s dark eyes sparked like lit kindling with a sudden flash of anger. He shoved his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “You’re the one who started nitpicking. If your standards are so damn high, maybe you should’ve cooked!”

The air between them was heavy with ozone, tension slithered in, curling around the edges of their fraying tempers like blotting vines feasting on their discomfort. The silence that followed was heavy, anticipatory, and those vines grew roots and then fingers, curling into Nanami’s limbs and tightening the muscles on his face into a silent glare.

Nanami gathered up the dishes with a little too much force, the plates clattering together in a way that made the small space shrink smaller, the echoes bouncing off the walls and settling in the corners like something dark and brooding. The darkness that licked at the windows oozed its way inside.

Higuruma crossed his arms, feeling his irritation spike when Nanami turned his shoulder, hot and irrational, a screeching tea kettle in very real danger of boiling over completely. Don’t you dare ignore me.

“ Honestly, if your standards are so high, I’m surprised you tolerated it at all. My apologies for displeasing your precious palate.”

Nanami’s hands tightened around the sink basin, his knuckles paling as the metal dug into his skin. Slowly—deliberately—he turned to face Higuruma, meeting his glare head-on. Their eyes snapped together like flint striking steel, cold, unyielding, sparks flying. “Fine. Next time, I’ll cook. That way, we won’t have to worry about your thin skin getting in the way.”

Higuruma’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t answer. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he held his ground, the air between them thickening, charged, shimmering with a tension that hovered like static in the room.

If either of them had been of their right mind, they might have noticed the air almost gleaming—an iridescent shimmer, like the heat rising off the hood of a car on a scorching day, or the sheer coat of yellow that coated nearly every surface, the cutlery, the plates .

Every small movement—an impatient twitch of Nanami’s finger, the brief flare of Higuruma’s nostrils—crackled with a heat that wasn’t entirely their own. Something crept between them, feeding off their frustration, stoking and bolstering the growing fire with every passing second.

Nanami’s glare shifted to the dishes in the sink, smeared plates and bits of rice clinging to the edges. The food had been good—damn good, really—and he hadn’t planned on nitpicking. He’d all but decided not to, but the words grew legs and clawed out of his mouth of their own volition.

Cleaning the dishes was out of the question—his mood was too foul to even consider it.

Higuruma scoffed and turned on his heel, retreating to the living room, his footsteps heavy and banging against the old wooden floorboards. Each footfall landed like the gavel he wields and felt every bit as damning.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

As the night dragged on, the cabin’s cozy charm unraveled at its rotted edges. The soft lights, once warm and inviting, were both too dim to read by and too bright to relax under, casting shadows that twisted nauseatingly on the walls. The couch, which looked so inviting before, might as well have been carved from stone for all the comfort it offered.

And though the house was deceptively spacious, the walls inched closer, closer, closer; tightening the noose around Nanami and Higuruma and forcing them into needless confrontations—over the lights, over which room to claim, over the correct way to handle the fire poker by the chimney.

Higuruma, by this point, had a few creative ideas for its use that had nothing to do with stoking a fire.

Nanami needed distance. A breath. Something to stop the heat crawling up his spine like a fever. He planted himself back at the sink, hands plunging into the soapy water with the kind of force that turned a gentle rinse into an act of war. The clatter of utensils against the porcelain screeched through the small kitchen, each metallic scrape a little too loud, a little too sharp. Water splashed up and soaked into his rolled-up sleeves, each drop that seeped into the fabric felt like a personal insult. He felt positively unmoored.

Every squeak of wet porcelain seemed to mock him, irritation climbing with each stubborn stain he scrubbed that just wouldn’t come out—his sanity hung by gossamer threads.

From the living room, Higuruma’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and loaded with an eye-roll Nanami could picture without even turning. “You don’t have to murder the plates, you know,” Higuruma jeered. “I can hear you all the way in here—that’s how you ruin them.”

Nanami’s grip tightened on the dish, his knuckles blanching white. It was stupid—petty. They never bickered like this, never fell into the brand of mundane sniping reserved for divorcing couples or other miserable types.

He prided himself on keeping calm. Unshakeable. Especially around Higuruma, whose dry wit and effortless ability to slip under his skin kept things lively and interesting. Fun, even.

But tonight? Tonight, everything grated on him. Every word, every sound—the scratch of ceramic, the way Higuruma's voice seemed to curl around the walls and echo back, each bounce sharper than the last. It shredded through the quiet, gnawing at his nerves, leaving them raw and exposed to the stifling air that compressed from every direction like a vacuum.

Nanami thinks he must be sick and Higuruma must be too, because he has just enough clarity to recognize that he doesn’t recognize them at all.

Nanami’s fingers skimmed beneath the sudsy water, brushing against something solid. The unexpected chill of metal met his skin, and his hand stilled as he recognized the shape of the knife buried there. For a moment, it grounded him—quenched the fire licking at his palms, made him feel in control again. He let his fingers curl around the handle, the coolness radiating through his hand and sending a shiver up his spine that felt blessedly soothing.

The blade could make it all stop. Take it. Walk into the living room where Higuruma stands and—

Nanami blinked. The thought dissolved, evaporating as fast as it came back to the void it came from and leaving a sick churn in its wake. He gritted his teeth and dropped the knife back into the sink with a harsh clatter, the sound sharp and final. He wanted to throw it out the window.

Absurd. He was absurd. He’s sick. Surely he must be sick, because he would never think that. Not over something so… nothing.

His thoughts felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. He wasn’t a beast. He wasn’t a murderer. He’d seen enough bloodshed to know better—he knew better.

The fact that it entered his mind at all almost made him retch.

He wiped his hands on the hanging towel, the rough fabric scraping against his skin and pulling him back from the irrecoverable edge he’d almost stumbled over. Without a word, he turned on his heel, leaving the dishes half-done and the knife abandoned in the sink, as if he could walk away from the sick impulse the kitchen inspired.

The hallway felt longer than it should’ve as he stalked back into the living room, each step heavy, ball-and-chained to his fracturing mind. And there was Higuruma—standing in the small living area, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, half-lit by both lamp and fire and waiting for him.

The shadows carved deep lines into his face, the hooked curve of his nose sharpened by the light, casting him as something almost predatory.

When Nanami stepped into the room, the tension between them snapped taut, a thread wound too tight and ready to break, pulling them closer, reeling them into each other's orbit. It was like standing on the edge of a flame, the heat unbearable and the burn inevitable. They were drawn to each other’s fury, like moths with no choice but to dance in the fire until they turned to ash.

“So rather than be gentler with the dishes, you’re just going to leave them? I suppose you expect me to clean as well as cook?” Higuruma’s voice carved through the room like shattered glass skittering across stone. He didn’t move, didn’t uncross his arms, but his entire stance was a challenge, daring Nanami to step closer, to meet his gaze head-on.

The way his eyes narrowed, locking onto Nanami with stripping intensity sent a fresh wave of anger surging through him, hotter, more vicious.

Nanami froze.

Just keep walking. Ignore him. Keep moving. Bathe and go to bed.

“I’m taking a break,” he said instead, each low word a bullet added to the smoking gun, the calm before a storm that could level mountains. It was a voice that should’ve sent alarms blaring in Higuruma’s mind and made his instincts urge him to back off. It promised reckoning.

If Higuruma weren’t so festered in the pit of his own irrational anger, he might’ve retreated—might’ve backed away from the brewing tempest in Nanami’s eyes.

If he knew that moments ago, Nanami had gripped a knife and entertained thoughts of plunging it deep between his ribs, he might’ve put distance between them.

But if Nanami was sick, Higuruma was sicker. His skin twitched beneath the tight fabric of his dress shirt, shoulders rolling and shuddering in a futile bid to relieve the tension that knotted between them. Sweat slicked his body, glistening in the firelight that painted him in violent hues of orange and red, setting him ablaze from the outside in. He was burning.

His vision dimmed, draining of color until the world was a muted blur—all except for Nanami. Nanami snapped into focus, vivid and pulsing with life, a beacon through the haze of Higuruma’s dilated eyes. He panted, breaths heavy and ragged like a slathering dog, muscles twitching with the need to lunge, to close the distance between them. Restraint frayed at the edges, but all he could think about, all that consumed him, was Nanami. Going to him. Tearing into him.

"Can’t ever—" Higuruma’s voice cracked, struggling to force the words out between teeth clenched so tight he felt a pop in his jaw. "Ask for help, can you?"

A bitter scoff slipped, choked off as his throat seized, the dry walls of his airway sticking together and making his vision swim that much more as he missed another heaving breath. "Always have to be—"

He turned away sharply, a shudder running through him, the effort to keep speaking almost painful; and with it, he hoped to hide his shame at the grossly obvious erection snaking down the seam of his thigh, just as it had been for the past fifteen minutes. "—the lone wolf, thinking you’re so… so independent and fucking cool—"

His breath hissed, a harsh sound that scraped the back of his throat raw down to the bitter copper tang beneath. "So fucking cool—"

Nanami resisted with everything he had, every muscle tensed against the invisible binds that drew him in, demanding he act on impulses that should never see light; should never have been conceived at all.

His fingers twitched at his sides with the urge to act. To do something he’d regret. Wrap them around Higuruma’s throat, maybe, and squeeze until the hate drained out of them both.

He watched as Higuruma began to unravel, each tremor, recognizing the succumbing happening before his eyes as what he felt incubating within himself. It was like staring into a mirror, seeing his own fate playing out in front of him, knowing that it was only a matter of minutes—if he was lucky—before he would break too.

His pulse pounded in his temples, each beat syncing with that silent, relentless pull, dragging him recklessly toward oblivion.

Nanami stalked forward.

Higuruma whirled back around, a sharp animal snap of his neck with teeth bared like a cornered beast. His body jolted upright, spine straightening and meeting Nanami’s advance with a challenge that was all raw instinct—no hesitation, no retreat, only the need to assert dominance.

“What the hell are we really fighting about here? Dishes? Dinner?” Higuruma’s laugh was cold, a bitter thing that didn’t suit him at all. “Or are we dodging the real issue, Nanami? Because I’m begging for an excuse. Give me one, and I swear—” he leaned in as close as he dared, eyelids fluttering at the smell of him even at this distance. “I’ll fight you.”

Nanami didn’t know why they were fighting. Only that they were. And that the scorching compulsion inside him demanded it, devoured him and any dissent whole, certain he would be reduced to ash and hollowed to a bitter husk if he so much as raised a finger against it.

He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. The need to push this until something snapped was compulsive. The only end was cremation in this hellfire, one or both, and his desperation for it ripped him apart from the inside out.

“This isn’t about dinner,” Nanami growled, his voice thick with hot coals. His chest felt tight, air scorched by the words he could barely spit out. “Or losing my weekend to be here.” His fists clenched, nails biting so deeply into his palms that blood welled in the half moons, but the sting was nothing compared to the flames ravaging his veins. He’s in hell—he must be.

“This is about you.” Nanami spat the fever in his mouth, callous and cruel. His shoulders quivered and betrayed him, frenetic pulse having him swooping down towards Higuruma’s face a little too fast, a little close, nearly eye to eye now before he could reel himself back upright; drunk on the heat of it all.

“About how you are a burden. A constant, incessant, mind-numbing waste that I’d be better off without.” He wanted this. The confrontation and the catharsis that vitriol promised, even if it meant sinking deeper into the hell he was creating.

The space between them nearly evaporated, the air growing so thick they were both choking on it. Nanami could feel Higuruma’s breath ghosting over his skin, gulping for air, his throat bobbing, warm, uneven, alive—a siren call, seductive and dangerous and ruinous.

Break him. Rip, tear, flay—spill blood into the floorboards, let the cellar drink from him.

The thought scorched through Nanami's mind, twisted and raw, and for a moment, neither dared moved, both possessing an instinctive knowing it might provoke the other to pounce. The only sound was their breath, ragged, and the ratcheting pound of the other's heart, both animalistically attuned and tracing bulging arteries up their throats.

Hurt him. The insidious whispers slithered through Higuruma’s mind like smoke, curling around his thoughts, sick with rabid infection. Hit him. You’ve done it before. He despises you. Use the gavel. End it.

Sweat gleamed on Higuruma’s forehead, mirroring the dampness on Nanami’s neck. The air was suffocating, clinging like napalm, thick and oppressive. It was rage—pure, unadulterated rage—but something else too. Something that begged for pain, for release, for an end.

And then Nanami hit the wall.

The impact was savage, brutal. No time to brace. Higuruma slammed him back, the force sending picture frames clattering to the floor. The walls groaned, the very bones of the cabin trembling under the weight of their collision.

Higuruma didn’t hesitate. He was on Nanami in an instant, hands lashing out, cold fingers like steel vices around Nanami’s throat. The pressure was immediate and crushing—but Nanami didn’t flinch. His eyes gored Higuruma with deadly resolve, steel against steel, waiting for the other to break.

Nanami’s eyes narrowed, excitement seeping through his gaze as heat furnaced low in his belly, his breath coming out ragged. Higuruma’s fingers were still wrapped tight around his neck, but Nanami could feel something else—a thrum, a pulse. His cock strained painfully against his slacks, pre-cum already staining the fabric; the matting feel of his hair both enraged and delighted him.

He wasn’t sure when that happened.

He wasn’t sure he cared,

His hand slid up to Higuruma’s wrist, and with the deliberate force of bending iron, began to pry those vice-like fingers from his throat. Higuruma clawed for him, fist shaking with resistance, and every inch of fight only fueled the arousal that snapped sudden through them both like rubber bands.

A cold, metallic chuckle thundered in Nanami’s red throat, mocking with threat. "... Idiot."

He didn't waste another breath—there was no time. With a sharp twist and a powerful surge of his shoulder, Nanami shoved Higuruma back with enough force to send them both crashing into the floorboards.

They thrashed, clawing and bodying into furniture and light fixtures. Higuruma’s knee shot up, slamming into Nanami’s stomach, sending a shockwave of force that knocked the air from his lungs and his cock twitched, pre-cum seeping in thick rivulets down his thigh. Nanami grunted, but the ache only sharpened the edge of his need. Higuruma, too, felt the burn.

In one fluid, desperate motion, Higuruma rolled them over, breaking free from the hold, chest heaving with exertion, straining and throbbing in his pants with every ragged breath. His eyes blazed with fury, but beneath the rage there was something raw and ruinous. His gaze raked over Nanami, lips curled into a snarl, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to rip him apart—and fuck him into the floor. How much he needed to do one or the other or both.

Yellow clouds shaken from surfaces whirlpooled in the humid air. With each breath, Higuruma felt it more acutely—his clothes clung to his skin, and heat laid siege to his body, unbearable, searing. The pollen, the fucking pollen—he could feel it now, twisting his thoughts, his body, and all he wanted was Nanami beneath him, writhing and begging.

Nanami roared and lunged at Higuruma again, throwing him back into the wall with enough force to crack the old oak paneling. The cabin rumbled, books toppled from shelves, and somewhere in another room something glass shattered.

But all Nanami could see was the way Higuruma’s body shuddered at the impact, the way his pupils dilated, his lips parting in a wet gasp—so fucking pretty.

Higuruma choked, the breath knocked from his lungs, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His vision blurred, but the moment it cleared, he saw Nanami standing over him—panting, chest heaving, cock straining visibly against his pants, fabric stained dark and dripping. The visual sent a shiver through him, his stomach clenching hungrily and own body desperately reciprocating.

Each thrash and bit of fight only compelled the other to fight back harder. A cyclical prey-drive, hammering and hammering in the forge until someone broke into the coals.

In the charged, suffocating space between them, the air thickened, pulsing with a desperate craving that bordered on madness. Nanami’s grip tightened, punishing hands clasped around Higuruma’s shoulder and the fine bones of his neck. His fingers curled with creaking slowness against the soft skin and fabric, teasing the promise of bruises and ripped clothes.

Higuruma scrabbled for purchase against Nanami’s arm, spitting and clawing, nails raking down skin and leaving red lines that did nothing to deter the iron-grip on his neck; like the bite of a flea for all the attention Nanami paid it.

Their faces were inches apart, close enough that Nanami could see the fine particles of dust chalking Higuruma’s flushed skin, could feel the heat radiating off him in molten waves. Everywhere they touched the yellow mist was spread to him too, and where it was spread Nanami burned.

His breath juddered in his throat, billowing against Higuruma’s cheek his nostrils flared bullishly. Cologne, sweat, and dust that smelt oddly floral… pollen. Not dust at all.

It was the pollen. It had to be. But there was no time to think about that, not when every nerve in his body was on fire, every muscle twitching with the need to lay claim and consume, because Nanami is certain, so certain, of only one thing: the hellfire raging in his bones was going to kill him if he doesn’t whet it.

The muscles in Nanami’s back convulsed, rippling beneath his shirt as he bent lower, his breath ghosting over Higuruma’s throat. “You smell so good,” he groaned, voice rough and fractured and barely coherent. Had Higuruma always smelled like this? It was intoxicating and overwhelming and Nanami needed him.

He smelled too good. Too irresistible. Too much.

Nanami groaned and pushed Higuruma harder against the wall, the force of it rattling the entire cabin as if trying to shake loose whatever wild thing had taken hold of them both. But it was lodged too deep, its hooks set and curved too permanently.

His knee shoved between Higuruma’s legs, pressing up—hard—right against the throbbing bulge in Higuruma’s pants. Nanami felt the way it pulsed, wet and leaking, pre-cum staining the crotch of Higuruma’s pants so thickly that he felt it through the layers on his knee. And with the way his hips jerked forward, rutting against Nanami’s leg—he liked it.

Higuruma writhed, his body twisting and turning, but it wasn’t rage anymore. The way Nanami’s breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed and twitched—Higuruma felt it all, and it was driving him insane, breaking him down until all he could think about was the way Nanami had him pinned to the wall, how Nanami’s knee ground into his weeping cock, Nanami, Nanami, Nanami.

The clawing desperation to peel himself away was tossed in favor of frantic tugging, nails catching on rolled sleeves to yank Nanami closer.

Nanami’s world narrowed, everything outside the two of them fading into a tunnel of pulsing, seething hunger. Irreversibly dialed to the slick heat of Higuruma’s body pressed against his, the frantic beat of his pulse beneath Nanami’s hand, the sweat that trickled down Higuruma’s temple. He wanted to taste it, drag his tongue across that feverish skin, feel Higuruma’s pulse in his mouth and swallow it down gluttonously.

He leaned in closer, breath scalding against Higuruma’s ear as he gritted out the words, each one clawing its way from the depths of his chest and leaving the cavity bloody. He was gone—too far gone to reel himself back, yet somehow, impossibly, not quite lost. There was just enough of him left, clinging by a thread, enough to ask—beg, really—and pray that if the answer was no, he could resist just long enough for Higuruma to hit him and knock him blissfully unconscious.

Even if it killed him. Even if he were to self-immolate. It would be better.

“Tell me you feel it too… shit, I—” His voice broke, shivering, “I need you—”

The words barely left his mouth before Higuruma lunged, crashing his mouth against Nanami’s in a collision of lips and teeth. It wasn’t a kiss—it was raw, violent, a clash of urgency and rage. Their teeth clacked, tongues desperate and frantic, and Nanami groaned, low and deep, as he shoved Higuruma harder against the wall, hips grinding forward in a furious effort to fuse them together.

There was no room for dignity or restraint—just the unbearable need to fuck, to tear each other apart until they were satisfied.

Nanami’s breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he gripped Higuruma tighter, fingers digging into the muscle beneath his shirt. The fabric tore beneath his grasp, threads snapping, and Nanami relished in the sound of buttons skittering somewhere across the room and lost to corners, the sensation of skin bared to him.

Higuruma’s hands clawed at Nanami’s back, fingers digging into tense and quivering muscles. Every nerve in his body was on fire, skin too sensitive, cock hardened to the point of pain with every desperate twitch of his hips. “Nanami—” The sound that came from his throat was jagged, agonized and barely comprehensible.

“I know—fuck—I know,” Nanami rasped, shushing and pacifying in a way suddenly tender in his understanding, each word dragging as if ground over sandpaper. He leaned closer, lips brushing Higuruma’s ear, his breath billowing and hot.

“You’re going to take it. Every inch, every bit of me until you can’t think straight—” nevermind that they already can’t think at all. Nanami hardly recognized himself. “—can you do that for me?”

Higuruma’s nails raked down Nanami’s back, whining and blinkered by lust to the point of muteness. Nanami could’ve asked him to peel his nails off and he would’ve if he thought it would feel good.

It spurred Nanami on, feeling his heart drop to his diaphragm to instead beat between his thighs. He didn’t waste another second, his hand shooting down between them, fingers trembling as he fumbled with the waistband of Higuruma’s pants. The button snapped free with a sharp pop, and Nanami tore the fabric apart, shoving his hand into Higuruma’s boxers without finesse.

His hand wrapped around the base of Higuruma’s cock, and the slick, hot pulse of it was almost enough to send Nanami over the edge right there. It was drenched, pre-cum spilling in obscene amounts, leaking down his hand, coating his palm in slippery warmth that dripped between his fingers. Fuck, he’s soaked. Higuruma was trembling, hips jerking into Nanami’s grip, chasing the friction with desperate, needy little thrusts.

“Fuck—Nanami, it hurts—” Higuruma gasped, voice cracking and jumping in Nanami’s fist, dripping onto the floor in the beginnings of a milky puddle.

“I know, I know,” Nanami groaned, voice low and wrecked, half-mad. He released Higuruma’s cock only long enough to yank his own pants down, fingers catching on the waistband in his rush to bare himself. He sprang free, and the sight of himself—hard as steel, already oozing to mat the honey blonde curls of hair on his belly—made him groan, muscles twitching with the need to bury himself inside Higuruma now. “I’ve… I’ve got you. Gonna help—”

There was no time for slow, no time for careful. None of the things he would’ve liked to do. No courtship, no gentle touches, no wining and dining, no chance to savor the feeling of peeling Higuruma away from the realm of friendship.

Nanami’s thoughts scattered like fractals, catching briefly on things like sunflowers—would Higuruma like if he bought them?—but the descending fog swallowed them whole.

Nanami groaned, he spun Higuruma around, slamming him chest-first into the wall with a force that rattled the entire cabin. The sharp sound of breath leaving Higuruma’s lungs was like gasoline on an open flame, and Nanami felt his erection twitch painfully, expanding more, oozing in a steady drip from the swollen tip. So much it felt like he might’ve cum already, but the ache in his balls told him otherwise—he hadn’t even begun.

Higuruma braced his hands against the wall, panting, his whole body trembling under Nanami’s weight. “Do it,” Higuruma snarled, thick with desperation and edged with defiance… or maybe just bravery in the face of what he knew was coming; both were equally admirable. “Please fuck me—I need it… it hurts—”

Nanami whimpered low in his throat, his hands gripping Higuruma’s hips, yanking him back roughly, aligning his pelvis with Higuruma’s ass. The head of his cock was so swollen it raged purple, slit weeping a thick coat that dripped down his length, soaking the base of Higuruma’s spine. It wasn’t normal—none of this was normal—but Nanami couldn’t bring himself to care.

He pressed the tip of his cock against Higuruma’s rim, smearing pre-cum over the tight ring of muscle and creating a slick runway as he dragged the head up and down, coating Higuruma in it. A small mercy, all things considered.

Higuruma’s body tensed, muscles bunching up beneath his skin as Nanami pushed against him, testing the resistance and hissed  at the stars that blew across his eyes. The pressure built, intense, unrelenting, until Nanami thrust forward in one hard, savage motion, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke.

Higuruma howled, fingers gouging into the wall, tearing the lacquer as his body arched violently, breath coming in jagged, broken rasps. It was too much—too intense, too fast—but exactly what he needed and Nanami knew it.

Pain blurred into pleasure, the overwhelming fullness inside him, the brutal stretch—until there was no distinction left between agony and ecstasy. It all melted, streaming him into a state beyond either. He was euphoric, and the way he immediately shoved back into Nanami made it abundantly obvious.

Nanami froze, eyes rolling to their whites in a way that obliterated any semblance of dignity, the scalding heat inside Hiromi nearly buckling his legs. The way Hiromi squeezed, quivered, and trembled around him had Nanami teetering, hand lashing out to the wall for support and crushing over Higuruma’s knuckles instead.

“Fuu-haah—” The curse fizzled and died on his tongue, useless and defunct. And then Nanami moved, a brutal, unrelenting force, each thrust shaking them both to their very foundations. Flesh pounded against sticky flesh, echoing in the space in a way so pornographic that it might’ve made Nanami blush under regular circumstances.

But this wasn’t regular. His fingers slipped between Higuruma’s pinning them both to the wall.

Dinner and sunflowers.

Nanami’s mind flickered with a different fantasy altogether—far sweeter than the damnable pollen on his tongue, the softness he had wanted to offer Hiromi. That calm domesticity, the gentleness Nanami thought he should’ve given. But here they were, drowning and clawing at each other to stay afloat.

Higuruma’s body rocked with every thrust, his own cock dripping against the wall, smearing in gooey, messy trails. He was completely lost, undone by the feeling of Nanami inside him—stretching him, molding him. Every stroke sent a wave of pleasure-pain through his body, chipping moans from his throat, making him claw at the wall, desperate for more, desperate for anything and everything, and he took it greedily.

Nanami’s free hand slid around, wrapping firmly around Higuruma’s length. He squeezed, stroking in time with the thrusts that had Higuruma corseted to the wall. “You’re mine,” Nanami murmured, voice thick and tongue useless in his mouth, far better suited for lapping at Higuruma’s neck than talking, and so he does.

If Higuruma was his, Nanami would spend the rest of his life making it up to him. He’d worship him. Take him out for dinners, make sure he laughed, filled his life with comfort, and this—this would be a secret they’d share. A private thing to laugh about and remember rather than the source of shame Nanami feared. He’d—fuck, he’d get him sunflowers everyday. During the winter he’d grow them himself if he had to—

“Please say it,” he crackled, desperate, impeaching. Suddenly this mattered to him.

Higuruma’s breath caught, quivering with each brutal batter into his body, already cracking like pressured glass. “Yours,” he gasped, his voice staticky with gravel, shredded from the moans that never once stopped dripping helplessly from spit-slick lips.

“Fuck, Nanami, I’m yours—”

That was all Nanami needed.

Higuruma’s submission wasn’t just some indulgence of lust. It was deeper than that, something in his very bones. Nanami saw it clearly now—the dormant part of Higuruma that craved being tethered, the wolf who wanted to be collared, domesticated into a dog. And Nanami was more than willing to bear the leash, to hold it firm and tender in his grip, to guide Higuruma through his surrender.

Nanami possessed Higuruma so beautifully, so thoroughly responsible for him, that it inspired nothing but heart-stopping adoration in the delirious mess of a man beneath him.

The thought shot through Nanami like a bullet, inspiring furious determination to do away with the awful edges where Higuruma ended and he began. His hips snapped forward, thrusting with brutal purpose, hammering into Higuruma with a force that sought to unmake them both, return them to stardust or whatever primordial pool they crawled out of. And Higuruma, with every ragged moan, took it. No, more than that, he welcomed it.

Drool slid unashamedly down Higuruma’s chin, cheek squished to the wall, his throat convulsing with every slam of Nanami’s cock inside him so deep he swears he feels him in his ribs. His voice was nothing but a mess of broken syllables now— “Na-na-mi—!”—barely managing his lover’s name in the mess of spit and pathetic mewling.

“Harder,” Higuruma gasped, voice shredded beyond recognition, hips rutting desperately into Nanami’s hand, chasing that final bit of friction, that last agonizing piece just at the tip of his tongue. “Fu–uu–uu-ck, please—m’gonna—”

Ever his servant Nanami’s fist tightened around Higuruma’s cock, knuckles white with the force of his grip as he stroked him, rougher than he liked it himself, but exactly how he thought Higuruma needed it because he thought he might appreciate a firm hand. So salaciously determined is he to milk every drop of pleasure from him, to exorcize this feralness from their bodies.

That’s all it took. Higuruma’s entire body went rigid before shattering gloriously—

He convulsed, spine arching violently off the wall as his orgasm tore through him, ripping a raw, choked cry from his throat. Hot, thick ropes spilled over Nanami’s fingers, and the rest splattered messily against the wall. His breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp as the overwhelming mix of pain and relief threatened to drown him. His legs buckled, but Nanami held him upright, speared by Nanami’s cock and the firm grip that kept him from crumbling entirely.

Nanami slowed just for a moment, enraptured by the ruin beneath him, feeling the others' orgasm with ferocious synchronicity like a punch to the gut.

Higuruma was still trembling, breath uneven, each gasp shaky and erratic. “Please, just—” Nanami gripped his hips, dragging him back into place, and with a breathless choke, “—please don’t stop me—I can’t… I still need—”

Nanami bent him, his forearms flexing in a restraining pin around his chest and waist; Higuruma curled and arched back, and back, and back into him like some lewd figurehead of a ship.

“Fuck, Nanami… please—more.” Higuruma’s voice was impoverished, hands clawing at the walls until wood splintered beneath the blunt bite of his nails, desperate to hold onto something, anything, as Nanami drove into him, the force of it pushing him further up the wall with each sloppy thrust as his cock continued to sputter against frayed and scratched wood—impossibly unspent.

The tension in Nanami’s gut coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point before finally—

It snapped with a final, brutal thrust, and he met his first orgasm with an embarrassing cry—raw, desperate, echoing through each fierce contraction that tore through him. His grip on Higuruma’s hand tightened as he whined against the damp skin of his neck, shuddering with every hot, thick pulse that spilled deep inside his lover. He gasped raggedly, gulping for air over flushed, bitten skin as he rode out the last shivers of release, clinging to Higuruma as if the world would fall away without him.

Their bodies slumped together, breaths mingling. Higuruma’s forehead pressed against the wall, and for a moment, everything was still except for the lingering tremors that juddered them both. Nanami’s breath was hot against his neck; his lips dragged over the skin, pressing kisses of apology, gratitude, pleading.

But it wasn’t enough. The insistent burn beneath their skin, the gnawing ache, still simmered. They could both feel it—this madness that refused to release its grip, no matter how hard they tried to bury it.

“Nanami,” Higuruma panted. His hands, now trembling, scraped roughly against the splintered wood. He forced himself to turn, just enough to catch a glimpse of Nanami’s face—flushed, tense, eyes squeezed shut in agony. “Are you… are you okay?”

Nanami’s answer was a slow shake of his head, breath bitten between clenched teeth.

“I… still feel it,” he confessed, voice rough, strained, composure stripped and leaving him shamelessly wanton. He swallowed, trying to regain some control of only his voice, but it was useless. A frustrated groan slipped out, his hips twitching forward unconsciously, still buried deep inside Higuruma, hard as iron and showing no sign of letting up. “It’s not enough… fuck, it’s not enough.”

Higuruma’s heart pounded, the reality of their situation sinking in. He should be sated, exhausted even, but his body was already responding to Nanami’s words, the fire rekindling with a vengeance—the refractory period of some debauched god, not the exhausted thirty six year old man he knows himself to be. He’s never been so hard in his life.

Without another word, Nanami tightened his hold on Higuruma, stumbling back on shaky legs until they sank to the floor. There was a brief, fleeting moment of tenderness as Nanami held Higuruma close, twisting him around so they could face each other.

Higuruma was ruined. Spit wet his chin and cheek, his hair spiked in all directions beyond repair, and eyes dilated so eclipsing of their pupils that Nanami can barely see the whites either.

Supple, pliant, and so beautiful.

“Higuruma…” Nanami’s voice was breathless and heavy, but there was a new softness to it—a plea woven through the desperation like wicker baskets, only hoping they’d hold the weight of emotions he was too addled to carry.

His hands found Higuruma’s, guiding them to his broad shoulders with a gentle insistence. He yearned for him with a presence of mind he lacked before. He’d needed a body, that was all, and that hadn’t changed… but Nanami wanted him.

“Please—”

The word broke from him, cracked and vulnerable, as his fingers tightened around Higuruma’s hip, trembling with the effort to stay anchored. He slid his hand down, cupping the curve of Higuruma’s ass and giving a firm, urging push, his wide, desperate eyes locking onto Higuruma’s, beseeching and pained.

Higuruma cupped Nanami’s face in his hands, the same hands that ruined a wooden wall possessed with something more gentle now, he cradled him like something fragile.

He looked at Nanami like he’d never seen him before, and in a way, he hadn’t. Not like this—not so ruined.

He leaned in, capturing Nanami’s lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, pouring every ounce of weight and nebulous bit of emotion into it. His thighs tightened around Nanami’s hips as he lifted himself up and then dropped back down onto Nanami’s cock. Fire met with the gasoline in his blood, reigniting anew.

He was always meant to be burned by Nanami.

He would give and take until there was nothing left.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

When the sun rose it did so sluggishly.

Like it too was afraid of what it might find inside the unassuming little cottage. Its eye rose hesitant over the trees, golden spears shot through windows and sheer curtains, illuminating the carnage strewn about the floors.

Anything not nailed down was toppled, the knick-knacks so meticulously arranged knocked to the floor or shattered, books indecently fluttered their pages in dead air, and the floors, the walls, and the upholstered leather of the couch were thoroughly destroyed.

Claw marks and stuffing, the odd bite taken out of the arm of a chair and left punctured with teeth—but no blood, no murder, no bodies—except for two, very much alive and tangled in a mess of limbs and sticky flesh on what remained of the couch.

Nanami’s leg dangled off the edge, one arm limp against the floor, while the other curled a cradle around Higuruma’s back where he slumped on his shoulder—drooling, snoring, and finally sated .

The man was peaceful—vulnerable in a way that tugged something deep in Nanami’s chest.

Nanami didn’t sleep.

Not much, at least.

He stayed vigilant, his thoughts churning like a storm at sea. Once they were both… “well” … he’d agonized, he’d thought, he’d theorized. He’d seethed and spat in his head like a rabid animal, every part of him on edge, because he knew this wasn’t right. This wasn’t simply an explosive culmination of little repressed desires—though he did take some time to consider the implications of what this would mean for his relationship with Higuruma tomorrow. No, this was something done to them.

He remembered reading the report about a curse Gojo exorcized once—one that could induce euphoria, passivity, bending the mind to its will through flower fields. If a curse could do that, then why not something more sinister? Something that could twist emotions, heighten them to the point of madness. Rage, hate, lust… such a curse wouldn’t need to act violently itself; it could simply turn its victims into weapons, feeding off the very emotions it created. The implications set a chill in his gut, heavy and unsettling.

Couple murders. One survivor. Confusion. The details were sparse in the file, but Nanami recalled those morbid little highlights, and with a new day dawning he knew he had to settle the theory that stewed in his head all night.

With a careful touch Nanami’s arm tightened around Higuruma’s shoulders, supporting his back as he rolled them over as gently as he could manage.

Higuruma grumbled inarticulately, Nanami inhaled and froze, hovering… the snoring resumed, and so too did Nanami exhale. He arranged Higuruma’s limbs so he’d be more comfortable, making sure long legs and bruised arms were tucked properly onto the fluff-bleeding cushions. His hand lingered a moment longer as he lifted Higuruma’s head to place on a pillow, fingers dipped in inky hair with soft consideration.

His palm brushed once, easing the tufted cowlicks on his head before he withdrew.

Nanami stood, his chiseled jaw clenched, determination hardening his features as he turned away from the couch. Without a backward glance, he marched to the front door, each step measured and purposeful.

Nanami didn’t bother with clothes as his feet pounded the floor, the cool wood unforgiving against his bare skin. He gripped the door knob like it was the throat of an enemy, twisting and flinging it with a force that should’ve sent the door flying—yet it didn’t budge. “ Hah… ” he chuckled, darkly amused. He tried again, muscles flexing, veins bulging with effort— how embarrassing, he mused, only if he hadn’t expected exactly this.

He moved to the kitchen. The window above the sink brightly lit with cheerful morning gold, dripping jewels from dewy grass on the gravel drive. He reached for the small metal latch, hope flickering in his chest like a dying ember—sealed.

“I fucking knew it,” he laughed despite himself, near hysterical at his idiocy. His hand found its way to his hip, the other raking through irreversibly tousled wheat hair.

“Knew what?”

Nanami’s flinched to hear Higuruma speak. He whirled around, finding him propped up on the couch, one arm slung over the torn and fuzzy backrest, his expression groggy but attentive.

“The door won’t open,” Nanami said with a derisive snort.

“—and you wanted to go outside naked because—?”

“The windows too. I can’t open them.”

Higuruma’s brow furrowed, sleep slowly ebbing away as he propped one knee up, hooking an elbow around it while resting his head atop the makeshift pillow. “And…?”

“They’re not real, Higuruma.”

Oh, so he’s lost it, Higuruma thought.

Higuruma blinked, a moment of confusion flashing in his eyes before he smothered it beneath a well-practiced mask of calm. His lips curled into a placating smile, the kind one gives to a person on the verge of breaking. “I see…” he didn’t.

“... are you feeling alright?” His voice was steady, honed by decades of smothering nerves beneath layers of practiced indifference. But he could feel the exhaustion pulling at his edges, the dregs of whatever had been in his system finally clearing. If Nanami wasn’t good, if he had truly lost it, then…

Nanami groaned, shaking his head as he strode back to the couch. “We’re in a domain, Higuruma. We probably have been since we walked through the door.”

That pulled Higuruma out of his spiraling thoughts. He scoffed, disbelieving that that was the conclusion Nanami arrived at. “No—no, we would’ve noticed.”

Nanami grunted in response, his focus on the rubble scattered across the floor. He crouched down, rifling through the mess with a single-minded determination until he found his boxers. He stepped into them with the kind of force that spoke volumes about the rage simmering beneath his skin. “Mess with my fucking head —my fucking body …I don’t fucking think so.”

“Wouldn’t we have noticed?” Higuruma insisted. He scrambled off the couch, the cool air biting at his skin as he tried the door, then the windows—no dice. He blinked owlishly. How hadn’t they noticed?

“Wait, where are you going?”

Higuruma watched, a mix of awe and concern tightening his chest, as Nanami, clad only in his boxers and wielding his signature black-and-white blade, stormed across the living room. The destruction underfoot crunched with each step, like the ground itself was trembling beneath his ire. He moved with the purpose of an angry deity, his eyes narrowed in determination. “I’m going to find it, of course.” The rest of his ensemble seemed irrelevant, the sheer force of his anger making everything else redundant. At the very least, Nanami refused to face his quarry with his dick out.

Higuruma scrambled for his clothes, now little more than torn scraps, but managed to yank on a pair of boxers, matching Nanami’s hurried attire. “Try going up,” he suggested, breathless, hopping in place to work an uncooperative leg through the leg hole.

“Is there an attic?” Nanami’s voice was sharp, all business as they moved in unison down the hallway, weapons gripped with white-knuckled determination, intent on receiving their pound of flesh in return for their dignity.

Higuruma nodded, still catching his breath. “I believe so. The house looked taller from the outside.”

Heat rises. The thought flashed between them, unspoken yet understood. The sweltering flames that burned them from the night before would have naturally ascended, carrying with it the intoxicating miasma that fueled whatever twisted curse that ensnared them, up to the highest point. Simple physics.

Nanami for all of his composure (last night notwithstanding) was always careful on the job. You would not know this by how he kicked down the door at the top of the stairs, blowing it clear of its hinges and obliterating it with a violent explosion of splintered wood.

“Where are you…”

The thing skittered down from the rafters, a grotesque, spider-like abomination with far too many limbs that clicked and chittered as it descended. Its body was an obscene, fleshy mass, swollen and pulsing as if ready to burst, its skin stretched thin over the bloated form beneath. It laughed in that eerie, tinny way curses do, mandibles clicking and many eyes rolling to devour the two men in the doorway.

It was slow, fat and sluggish, engorged on the feast they’d unwittingly provided, dragging itself across the floor with an unnatural, bone-crunching crawl. Its limbs twitched sporadically, like it couldn’t quite control them, its movements erratic and nauseating to watch.

Nanami liked to take his time, usually. Liked to assess his enemy and make sure there were no nasty surprises waiting for him once he engaged. Because Nanami was a careful man, even moreso when he isn’t alone. But not this time. There was no patience left in him.

Nanami’s eyes blazed with the cold, righteous fury of a vengeful god. Ratios lined his vision, spinning and locking into place with terrifying clarity. He swung his blade in a wide, brutal arc.

The strike was perfect.

Wooden boards shattered beneath the force of his blade as it sliced through bloated curse flesh, spewing rotten blood across Nanami’s bare skin. The creature shrieked and twitched violently, its many legs flailing in a grotesque, desperate dance before it seized up and fell still. The curse evaporated into dust… but not the usual gray ash he’d come to expect.

Yellow spores billowed into the air, and Nanami immediately hurled himself backward, instinctively bodying Higuruma aside and away from the cloud. The panic was swift and visceral, propelling him out of harm’s way as he crowded Higuruma into a safer corner.

Higuruma staggered slightly from the force but quickly steadied himself, feeling the air around them clear, becoming lighter, easier to breathe. The light filtering through the dusty old window seemed a little brighter now, cutting through the gloom with a newfound sharpness.

Nanami’s shoulders were tense, muscles flexing as he adjusted his grip on the blade’s fabric-bound handle. Higuruma couldn’t see Nanami’s ratio lines, but he could see the red welts and scratches marring his back, the way the skin stretched taut over them and surely must sting—but Nanami didn’t flinch.

Higuruma is silent for a moment, neither of them speak, letting the feeling of closure dawn well and truly over them before finally Higuruma sighed and relaxed his grip on his own weapon, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “Well… I suppose that’s taken care of.”

Nanami straightened, his exhale feeling every bit the exorcism he’d just performed. His hand reflexively reached for his throat, adjusting a tie that wasn’t there, on a suit he wasn’t wearing. He grimaced, prickling.

“...It would seem so.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Scalding shower water and floral-scented soap that made Nanami’s stomach churn and skin shiver with thoughts of flowers, and petals, and pollen, and Higuruma—they took turns cleaning themselves one after the other. Nanami first, scrubbing his skin with a fervor that bordered on obsession, as if the force of his hands could erase not just the icy streaks of purple curse blood, but the memory of how it got there and every other substance that clung to his weary body.

After him, Higuruma took his place in the steamy room, letting water pound against his bruised and aching back, head bowed under the spray and washing away far more than dust and grime. It was a baptism, a cleansing, until the water that swirled down the drain ran clear and took with it the last bit of curse-induced grit and fucked dumb-ness from his brain.

The house invented its own gravity well, warping all sounds and emotions, all feelings except for what it wanted them to feel. But now that pull was gone. Their feet were no longer nailed down by that otherworldly weight; they were grounded once again by the earth's natural pull, back in the same plane as everyone else, free from the almost-world of the domain.

Nanami had already called Ijichi, arranging their extraction with the kind of professional detachment that belied everything that transpired within these walls. “We’re both fine,” and “it’s been dealt with,” and “yes, at your earliest convenience, thank you.”

Now, with nothing left to do but wait, Higuruma and Nanami moved around each other with dancing steps, choreographed avoidance and refusal to so much as bump into each other—because what if one thing led to another, and what if they weren’t quite right yet and it started again, and what if they said something stupid—

Higuruma ran a hand through his still-damp hair, grimacing at his inability to bridge the gap. There was no precedent for what they’d done, no documentation for him to point at and say “hey, here’s what we do now”.

Things had never been tense with Nanami. Their connection had always been easy, natural—colleagues by circumstance, friends by choice. They shared the same burden, the same grim determination to do what needed to be done and the understanding that someone had to do it. Misery loves company, and theirs had always been more than just a shared duty.

But that was before they’d fucked like their lives depended on it.

Funny how that changes things.

There was a carefulness in the way they moved now, an awareness that hadn’t been there before. Nanami was stiff and brittle, seeming almost afraid to get too close, like he couldn’t quite reconcile what he’d done with who he thought he was.

Higuruma, perceptive as always, kept his distance; not wanting to push too hard and break whatever fragile equilibrium they’d managed to find; because this wretched silence was still preferable to the breakup of their friendship.

It was almost comical, really, how they could teeter so close to the precipice of something meaningful and yet Higuruma found himself holding back. Like a cat eyeing a fishbowl, the temptation there, the desire to reach out and take the leap, but deciding against the jump because he was afraid he wouldn’t stick the landing.

But Higuruma had never been one to shy away from the truth. He’d made a career out of cutting through bullshit, and he wasn’t about to stop now even with potentially catastrophic consequences. So, with a resolve that brooked no argument, he weed-wacked the silence and leveled Nanami’s turned back with a look that would’ve dismantled a lesser man.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” He began abruptly. “But you’re a good friend of mine, Nanami—and if it’s up to me, that won’t change. So if we’re going to forget that this happened, just tell me so I can do the same. We need to be on the same page at the very least.”

Nanami surveyed the world outside the wide open living room window as if it were his kingdom. Quietly and greedily inhaling the fresh air that swept in, and with it went out the sordid smog that clung like film wrap to his brain. He’d been eager to confirm the windows would indeed open now with the curse exorcized—they did. He also wanted an excuse to silently gather himself—the window provided.

Nanami didn’t turn to face him, but the way his head lifted just so made it clear he was listening intently.

His gaze stayed riveted on the horizon outside, where the morning sun bled gold into the sky. Wishing that same light would illuminate the jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings he’d agonized over while Higuruma slept and highlight the way forward.

He thought he could handle it—both the mission and the man with him—but the pollen stripped him raw, naked to the soul. It was ugly and far from what Higuruma deserved; both physically and the cold words traded before it.

If Higuruma was his…

The thought alone made his stomach knot, a quiet yearning twisting inside him like hemlock. Nanami wanted so much more than what they’d been forced into—wanted to take his time, to show Higuruma the care and consideration he was worth. There should have been dinners, quiet conversations over wine, the slow unfolding of something deeper than friendship. It should’ve been a courtship, not a violent collision of hunger and curse-driven madness.

But what was done was done. No amount of wishing could undo it, and now, standing on the other side of the night, Nanami knew he had to make it right. He wanted to with a sincerity that bordered on desperation.

Because if Higuruma was his…

Nanami felt the longing bloom again, a poison that seeps closer and closer to his heart. He would give him everything. Anything he wanted—days filled with small comforts and nights spent wrapped in the quiet intimacy of just being together. He would repair Higuruma’s suit, take him out for the best meals, buy him flowers, and pour his drinks. He would worship him in every way a man could be worshiped, not just in moments of passion but in all the mundane, unspoken ways that truly mattered.

He indulged those thoughts while Higuruma slept, when the yearning of the body surrendered to the yearning of the heart. Nanami allowed his brutally thick arms to hold him just a little tighter, relishing those small hours of peace before he knew everything would change. It was as inevitable as watching the sun slowly rise through the windows, shedding light on the destruction they’d wrought; change would come, and he didn’t know from which direction he should protect himself when the path diverged.

But those hours of clandestine coveting seemed a lifetime ago, more a fantasy than a possibility. Higuruma’s voice was firm, almost clinical, as he tried to set the parameters of their future interactions. We need to be on the same page, he said, and Nanami felt a stab of regret that they weren’t already.

We don’t have to talk about it.

Nanami knew that was true, but it was the very thing that gnawed at him. They could sweep it under the rug, pretend it hadn’t happened, and go back to the way things were—but Nanami wasn’t sure he could. Not when he thought he felt something, saw something, in Higuruma. The path split before him now—safety and risk, retreating back or shouldering forward. Maybe he’d lost his mind a mile or so back.

Nanami finally turned to face him, the morning light catching whiskey eyes and flambéing them with ardent certainty. He didn’t know how to say it. He’d always been good with words but never this kind, but words didn’t know that when they tumbled out anyway.

“I don’t want to forget,” he confessed.

It was a start.

“I will not just brush this aside, Higuruma. You… mean a great deal to me.” What a pisspoor excuse of a confession, he thought bitterly.

He cleared his throat, met Higuruma’s shrewd eyes and fought against every impulse to look away. He forged ahead.

“Last night… wasn’t us. And I know that that is not how I would’ve wanted things to go if ever we were to…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely. But Higuruma nodded, understanding the words in the silence and encouraged him on.

“But it felt like—to me, at least, like maybe there was something there. Something worth doing differently, if you feel the same way.”

“I want to make it right. In fact, I insist on making it right, if you’ll let me.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken truths, the kind that couldn’t be easily unpacked in the span of a few seconds or weakly uttered confessions and pleas. Nanami’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat a tolling bell with the hope that maybe, just maybe, Higuruma would understand—that he’d see through the mess of it all to the sincerity underneath.

Because for all his equanimity, Nanami couldn’t shake the truth he’d arrived at while Higuruma slept that seeded itself in his chest: If Higuruma was his, he’d never stop trying to make him happy. He’d never stop wanting this.

“And I’d like to start with that drink… if you’re still amenable to that.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The first tentative days turned to months, and then years.

Work-related dinners with the occasional bar visit to unwind effortlessly transitioned into intimate date nights. A strange bond formed in the crucible of something neither of them could ever explain, tempered with time and the endless patience of two men lucky enough to know what they have. Higuruma and Nanami repaired their relationship with gold, filigree filling the cracks and turning it far more beautiful than it began.

Now, when the two found themselves on the sun-drowned beaches of Malaysia, toes buried in hot sand with matching skin-warmed gold bands clasped in woven hands, they might mention that one time and laugh.

A humorous anecdote from a lifetime ago where Higuruma insists that that one time is the cause of his persisting back pains, and Nanami asserts that the scars that litter his back and arms are not from a curse at all but from that one time.

And when Nanami glanced at Higuruma, face turned toward the sun with a blissful smile on his face, Nanami allowed himself to smile too. He’d made up for it in every way that mattered so long as he could see Higuruma smile like that, and he would keep doing so for the rest of their lives.

[five-rivers]

green is for envy, black is for trigger

A long BNHA oneshot!

.

So, they didn't realize at first what it meant when the teachers announced that Deku was going to UA.  Hell, they didn't really get what it meant when it was just Bakugou that was going.  Not that any of them, least of all Hideo, actually thought Bakugou would get in.  The whole thing was a pipe dream.  Only forty kids from the whole of Japan got into the hero course every year, and even if Bakugou was great at a lot of stuff, those were still long odds.

But Deku?

Deku, who had to have how his own name could be pronounced literally spelled out for him?  Who broke down into tears whenever someone made a joke?  That noodle-armed wimp with a death wish?  Useless, quirkless Deku?

Not a goddamn chance.  Not even with a miracle.

But Deku did get decent grades.  Not as good as Bakugou, but the fact that a genetic throwback got passing grades at all was kind of freakish on its own.  Shinozaki used to joke that it was because he was having special ‘tutoring sessions’ with the teachers, but both the teachers and Bakugou were so uptight about stuff like that.  It was a joke.  A kind of creepy joke, and Hideo was sort of glad when Shinozaki knocked it off, but still. 

Anyway, inasmuch as Hideo thought about it at all, he assumed Deku got into one of the other courses.  Although he only really knew about those because of the sports festival and Bakugou nerding out.  Support and business or something like that.  They probably only took Deku because they needed to meet some kind of pity quota.  Hideo's dad was always talking about stuff like that at dinner.  Mostly about mutant quirks, but Hideo figured it applied to deals like Deku, too.

But life went on, and no matter how ticked off Bakugou was about his glory being snatched or whatever, everyone else had entrance exams too.  There would be time to complain about it later, or not.  Hideo kinda figured Bakugou would eventually appreciate the stress relief beating up Deku would bring even through high school.  He'd heard the hero course was tough.  He certainly took advantage of it now.  Enough that Hideo felt sort of bad about it, now and again.  

The swan dive dare had been a little messed up.  Sure, quirkless people usually killed themselves eventually, but let them do it at their own pace.  

Hideo sort of envisioned him, Bakugou, Shinozaki, and Kanemaru hanging out together on weekends, dragging along whatever new friends they'd managed to make at their new schools.  It'd be fun, hearing about Bakugou's glamorous life as a hero student, and Kanemaru's adventures at the local rich kid school.  

What happened was Kanemaru drifting away, and Bakugou dropping all three of them like a hot potato. 

It was–  Well, for the first few weeks, he'd been mad.  They hadn't been best friends or any sappy crap like that, but it was annoying to realize you'd been tolerated rather than appreciated.  But then he'd heard that UA had been attacked, he'd gotten some new friends, and Kanemaru started hanging out again when he figured out all the cigarette hookups at his fancy school were trash.  

And he was sort of looking forward to seeing people try to beat Bakugou up on national television.  

So there was that.  

But what he'd seen instead–

There was no way.  There was just no way.  

But there it was, on national television.  

Deku.

Useless, quirkless Deku.  In the sports festival.  In the third event.  

With a quirk.  

It had to be some kind of trick.  That's what he thought at first.  But it'd have to be one hell of a trick to fake a whole quirk like thag out of nowhere, and there was no way Deku was that smart.  

Maybe he'd been replaced or something.  Hideo had heard of people with body snatching quirks.  But, then, that'd be two quirks, and whatever urban legends said, Hideo wasn't dumb enough to believe in the quirk boogieman.  

Could he have been faking being quirkless?  The very thought made Hideo nauseous.  No.  No way.  Not a chance.  No one with power would tolerate that.  

There had to be another explanation.  

His phone was buzzing.  The group chat was going wild.  

He scanned through the messages.  Shinozaki was disgusting, but he had good ideas, sometimes, and Kanemaru got rumors from his rich kid friends that took much longer to reach Gungan High, and their other friends were more of the same, but maybe one of them could see what Hideo himself was missing.  

His eyes stopped on one of Shinozaki's texts.  

i bet its trigger

where would deku eve  get trigger, Hideo typed.  

idk but its not like you can but a quirk on the street

Theres a guy in my class whose quirk makez every1 atoung him sing in tune, wrote Kanemaru, maybe its like that

with strength like tgat?  r u serious rn noone like that ia gonna work for a quirkless deku unless he has more money than god its trigger ffs

But whered he get it?? asked Hideo.  And would it even worj on a omeone Quiklessm?m

u cab get trigger cheap if yu know where to look

And how the hell did Shinozaki know that?  He and Hideo weren't exactly squeaky clean, with the cigarettes and all, but trigger was something else.  Like heroin was before the dawn of quirks.  

deku prolly just has some bs weak asf quirk that hes juicing

That nauseous feeling came back, and this time, Hideo was able to identify the emotion fueling it as mostly anger.  Red, hot, roiling anger.  

It wasn't enough that Deku stole a spot at UA from someone who'd live past twenty, but he'd taken a hero spot?  And he'd done it with drugs like the cheater he was?

If Hideo had been allowed to take trigger during his entrance exams, he'd have gotten into a hero school, too!  Hell, maybe even UA, if Deku could do it.  Hideo, after all, had a quirk that could be used even without trigger!

weve dot tobdon somethin

*got to do

It only took a minute for Shinozaki to reply lik what??

idk tellthe police if it's a druf thing right? Or just tell ua

He flicked away from the chat and, hands still shaking with rage, started looking up how to file a police report.  

.

“And you think your former classmate is using trigger because…?”

“Because he didn't have a quirk like that before!” said Hideo, frustrated.  No one was listening to them.  

“UA's got a pretty great training program,” said the police officer at the desk, a bored-looking woman with fish scales around her eyes and ears.  She reached over to a small spray bottle and spritzed herself.  “Pick any one of those hero kids and you'll probably hear the same thing.”

“You don't get it,” said Hideo.  “We all thought he was quirkless.”

“Well, clearly not,” said the woman.

“Yeah, but don't you think that's a little suspicious, that he never used his quirk at all before, and now he comes out with that?”

“Yeah,” said Kanemaru, who was ridiculously intimidated by the police station for a rich guy.  Shinozaki hadn't even come, claiming he was too high to be anywhere near a police station.  “What he said.  Deku never used his quirk at school or anything.”

The woman raised a scaly eyebrow.  “Did it occur to you that your classmate was simply following the law against public quirk use?  Or that he didn't want to use a quirk that broke his bones.  Quirk counselor probably told him not to use it.”

“He never went to the quirk counselor at our school.”

“You know private counselors are a thing right?  I'd be seeing a specialist for a quirk like that.”  She leaned back in her chair and looked up at them.  “Do you really think a school full of heroes wouldn't notice something like that?  Save yourselves some stress and go home.”

“But–”

“Seriously.  Go home.”

.

“Any luck?” asked Shinozaki, whose eyes were indeed bloodshot.  

“No,” said Hideo.  

“And we haven't heard back from the school, either,” said Kanemaru mournfully.

“Figures,” said Shinozaki.  “The police suck.”  He twirled a blunt between his fingers, then lengthened them to offer it to Hideo.  “Want a hit.”

“No,” said Hideo, wrinkling his nose against the rancid smell.  

“Yes,” said Kanemaru, snatching it.  “God, that sucked.  What do we do now?”

“I don't know,” said Hideo.  “We've got to get some kind of proof, otherwise the police won't take us seriously.”

“We could follow him,” suggested Kanemaru.  

“Hell, no,” said Shinozaki.  “You remember what chasing him was like in middle school.”

“We caught him whenever we wanted to,” said Kanemaru.  

“Hell, yeah, we did.  But he always knew when we were following him, and if he's pulling this off, he's not using where anyone can see.”

“What then?” demanded Hideo, frustrated.  “Break into his house?  Find his stash?”

Shinozaki snorted.  “When his mom works from home?  Putting Deku in jail isn't much good if we're there, too.”

“How the hell do you know Deku's mom works from home?” asked Hideo.

“Unlike you, I listened to Bakugou's ranting.  She's a programmer or something dumb like that.”

Kanemaru perked up.  “Maybe we could ask Bakugou!” 

“After he ditched us?  If he hasn't done anything yet, he's not gonna.  Give me back my weed already, Kanemaru.”

Reluctantly, Kanemaru returned the blunt.  

“There is one way, though,” said Shinozaki as he took another hit.  “It'd be real risky, though, and it'd cost ya.”

“Yeah?” asked Hideo.  “What's that?”

“Well,” said Shinozaki, “someone with a habit has a different reaction to someone taking trigger for the first time.  We get that on camera, and it's all over for him.”

“I thought we couldn't follow him,” said Kanemaru. 

“I'm not talking about following him, moron.  I'm talking about an ambush.  The freak still has to go home sometime, doesn't he?”

“Wait,” said Hideo.  “You want us to, what, pin down someone high on trigger, shoot him up with even more, and then just stand around filming him?  Who's the moron here, exactly?  Where would we even get trigger?  It's not like weed or tobacco.  We can't bribe a college student to go into a trigger dispensary.”

“The trigger's the easy part,” said Shinozaki.  “So long as Kanemaru can cough up the money.  I know a guy.”

“I'm not fighting a guy on trigger!” said Kanemaru, shaking his head.  “That's worse than roids!  And he's got to be doing those, too, right?  And he's got combat training or whatever, right?”

“Freaking chill already.  Quirk or not, it's still crybaby Deku.  No one's asking you to fight him, anyway.  What’re you going to do?  Pop out your eyes at him?”

“It's not like your quirk is much better,” said Hideo, trying to channel the police officer's cool skepticism.  “I'm not fighting anyone alone.”  According to his dad, that was the height of stupidity.  You always brought backup.  

“How is it that I'm the highest one here and the only one that can think?  We aren't fighting anyone.”

“You know someone who takes hits or something, too?”

“No, idiot.  I'm talking about your after school book club.  How'd you think they'll react to someone who's basically quirkless putting one over on people with natural talent?”

Hideo's spine had gone as stiff as a board.  “How the hell do you know about that?”  Even his parents didn't know about that!  Not that his parents knew anything.  

“I listen, duh.  To spell it all out, my proposal is that moneybags here gives me cash to get the trigger, then our literature lover can get his meta friends riled up and ready to do the delivery, and we stand well clear with cameras rolling.”

“I don't know…” said Hideo.  He was totally behind liberation philosophy, people should be allowed to use their quirks to their fullest extent, but he was pretty sure that the people most likely to help with this kind of thing were the radical hierarchists, and they skeeved Hideo out.   

“You never know anything,” complained Shinozaki.  “And you say that I'm not civic-minded.  Whatever.  Something awful's going to happen, and neandertoe there will be right in the middle of it and you'll come crawling back to me and my plan.”

.

Hosu was burning.  

Hosu was burning, and Stain had almost killed another hero.

Hosu was burning, Stain had almost killed another hero, and right in the middle of Stain's insane motive rant video was Deku.  

Hideo picked up his phone and called Shinozaki.  

.

Izuku wasn't so far removed from who he'd been in junior high that he couldn't tell when he was being followed.  However, unlike when he'd been in junior high, there was more than one reason to follow him.  In junior high, the only people that followed him were bullies, teenaged and otherwise, looking for a soft target.  

But now?  It could be anything from sports festival enthusiasts to the police (he had just broken a bunch of quirk use laws) to one of the villains he'd whirlpooled at the USJ, out for revenge.  

The only people he was sure weren't following him were Kacchan and All Might.  Kacchan, because stealth was one of the few things he was definitively bad at, and All Might, because being stalked by the number one hero had a very distinctive feeling, and this wasn't it.  Besides, the figures he saw ducking out of his line of sight didn't have All Might's proportions, and he was almost a hundred percent sure that All Might only came in two shapes.

But they hadn't done any units on stealth or counterespionage in class, yet, so all Izuku had to draw on in terms of solution to his problems were his hit-and-miss strategies from junior high.  He couldn't even call for help, because the fight with Stain had trashed his phone.  He was hoping he could convince his mom to replace it with a mid-range hero model, but he hadn't quite managed yet. 

So, his plan was as follows:

Play dumb as long as possible.  If he started running, so would they.  The closer he got to home before they closed in, the better.  

Keep an eye out for patrolling heroes, policemen, or even convenience stores with sufficiently intimidating cashiers.  He didn't think there were any suitable ones at the moment.  The conbini closest to Izuku's house was staffed by a jerk who always tried to steal Izuku's change from now until midnight, but he might still come across one. 

In case of being cut off, don't run randomly if there's another choice.  Running randomly let the pursuers pick the route.  Izuku knew paths, shortcuts, and hazards only people familiar with the area would know.  He should take advantage of that. 

Get home and call for help.  Failing that, get to Kacchan's.  If it was just bullies, they'd give up.  If it was a more sinister group…

An unusually large group of older teens turned onto the road in front of Izuku, all wearing hoodies and oversized medical masks.  Izuku promptly turned off the road, jogging through an alley and briskly striding onward.  

If he wasn't already in trouble over the fight with Stain, he might have decided to use Full Cowl to jump his way home… except, what would he do if he accidentally ran into a person and hurt them, or broke someone's windows or something like that?  

Maybe, if he went to the park, then cut through the thrift store in that one basement…  No, if there were as many people following him as he thought, they'd be able to cover all the exits, even there.   On the other hand, if the nicer person was at the counter, he might let Izuku use his phone. 

He wished there was somewhere he could just hide until the people following him gave up, some building or business he could duck into, but that would require people who were actually willing to intervene in a beating, and most of the people around here… weren't.  Some of them would call the police or hero hotline, but (with a few notable exceptions, none of whom lived or worked in Musutafu or its suburbs) even the best heroes couldn't just appear as soon as they were called.  That's why they patrolled. 

Speaking of patrols, finding one of those would also be good.  But Izuku's mental timetable put the nearest one a mile east, if Kamui Woods was his usual amount late and not extra late, which was also possible.  Kamui Woods was pretty popular, so he got stopped by fans regularly.  He didn't usually come this way, anyway.  The main villain hotspot in the area was the train station.  

Mount Lady sometimes did surprise patrols, to boost her image, but Izuku hadn't figured out the pattern of those yet, if there was one, and he didn't have his phone to check if she was doing one today. 

Although, if he had his phone, he could just call…  Who would he call?  Not his mom, most people who were okay with beating Izuku up wouldn't hesitate to beat uo his mom, too.  Kacchan was still at his internship for another day, and wouldn't have picked up the phone for Izuku, anyway.  He wasn’t sure where most of his other classmates lived.  All Might would come get him if he called, and All Might wasn't busy as All Might - he had a car - but Izuku really didn't want to bother him.  Calling the police, well, they wouldn't do anything unless he was actively getting beaten up, which looped right back around to the time thing.  

Izuku had always thought it was remarkable, how fast you could get the crap kicked out of you if enough feet were willing to do the kicking.  

At this point, Izuku had counted six sets of willing feet.  Or two, if they both had shapeshifting quirks.  He shouldn't rule something like that out.  

But he had the sinking feeling that there were more than two.  Or six, for that matter.  A lot more.  

He cut through the ground floor of an apartment building, ignoring how the doorman swore at him.  He went out the service entrance.  He wasn't too far from home, now.  

But before he'd gone another street, he'd picked up another tail.  Or regained one.  He wasn’t sure.  

Whoever or whatever was behind this was much more organized than the bullies and muggers who went after him in high school.  He was- well, he'd already been scared, but now he was concerned, too, and that was a different kind of emotion entirely.  Sort of.  Probably.  

When he got home, he'd call All Might.  All of the really bad organizations who'd want to target Izuku would be connected to All Might anyway.  

After this next corner, he just had to go one more block, and then–

Oh.  

Somehow, Izuku hadn’t considered that the people following him might already know where he lived, and be waiting there.  

He hesitated for only a minute as his brain registered a group too large for him to take on even with One for All.  

There wasn't anyone for him to protect here but himself.  

He ran.  

New plan: Evade capture.  Acquire a phone.  Call the emergency line.  Use One for All only if he was backed into a corner; he didn't think the police would be amused by a second quirk use incident less than a week after the first.  

Hands reached out towards him.  He ducked away from several, and almost ran into another, tipped with sharp claws.  They raked over his arm, barely avoiding drawing blood.  The owner of the hand laughed, and another person kicked at Izuku's ankles.  

Izuku jumped over the feet, and he flipped the next person who tried to grab him.  He could hear the crowd - and it was a big enough group to call it a crowd - jeering and calling out to him.  It was nothing really identifying, unfortunately.  They were calling him Deku, quirkless, and a fake, but the groups of people who would know to call him those things included both former classmates and incredibly serious villains.  

The sidewalk underneath Izuku's feet crumbled, and his heart leapt into his throat - Shigaraki?  No.  Both the pattern of destruction and its products were different.  Shigaraki powdered things.  The concrete here was still in recognizable chunks.  

He caught himself with his other foot, adjusted for the new terrain, and kept running.  A volley of dark beams forced him to swerve and duck and turn onto another street.  He thought there was a conbini up ahead– no, that was the next street down, but that apartment building left its ground floor open–

The broken concrete under his feet started to twitch and levitate.  He changed direction again, now running on the street itself.  There were hardly any cars here, even on a normal day.  Today, the streets were dead, otherwise he'd try waving one down.  How had they managed that?  Bribery?  Stolen construction and detour signs?  He used his backpack to shield himself when the levitating chunks of concrete pelted him, then dropped it as he was strafed by a spurt of fire.  

He hissed as he patted out his sleeves, then reflexively punched the next masked face that appeared in his vision.  His muscles and tendons in that arm pulsed with pain, still not entirely recovered from their ordeals in both the sports festival and the fight with Stain.  He switched tactics for the next person who tried to grab him, sweeping their feet.

There were some really cool quirks on display here, but they all felt rather… unpolished.  Unpracticed.  It kind of pointed away from these people being career villains.  But then, so did their ages.  Some of these people were adults, but not many. 

That didn't mean they weren't working for worse villains. 

A pop of compressed air went off to his left, and a pair of wires went shooting after him.  They had tasers, too?  

Something slammed into the ground around him, creating deep circular indentations.  Telekinesis?  An invisible giant?  No, gravity manipulation.  Izuku stumbled and was forced to use One for All just to get back up, and then he was hit over the back of the head with something.  

He lashed out, caught flesh, and struggled away from the grip.  But he'd lost what little lead he'd had on the main body of the pack.  They were circling, now, cutting off escape routes.  Could he use One for All and Full Cowling to get up on a roof?  Not without fighting people with wall-crawling quirks.  Still, that was fewer people than he was dealing with now.  He tensed, getting ready to jump, and was suddenly hit with extreme vertigo, intense enough to drop him to his knees. 

When it passed, he looked up to see a foot coming towards his face.  He wasn't able to dodge.  

The only good thing about the next few minutes was that One for All kept them from pinning him.  He was hit with dozens of quirks and dozens of feet.  He pushed them off, but he didn't have a good idea of how much of One for All was too much for a person to handle without serious injury. 

But then someone - someone with at least a mild strength quirk - got hold of his right arm and twisted. 

The world went wobbly, and the next thing Izuku knew, he was on the ground, restrained by a truly painful submission hold and multiple quirks, including the vertigo and gravity quirks. 

“Come on, bring it over!”  The movement in the crowd became more purposeful.  

Left hand, pinky finger.  Letting it heal naturally if Recovery Girl wouldn't help would suck, but not as much as letting these people do what they wanted to him, he was sure.  He flicked his finger and the wind pressure pushed back the nearest members of the crowd, sending them toppling into one another.  Izuku staggered to his feet, still dizzy.  Up was the only way out, but he wasn't sure he could aim–

Something sharp sunk into his right bicep, and he punched the person holding it.  Which, ow, his pinky.  

He pulled the sharp thing out of his arm, which wasn't the best first aid decision he could have made but he was still learning.  A hypodermic needle? 

A minute later, the needle fell from Izuku's nerveless fingers.  It didn't fall far.  When had he fallen down again?  

There was a burning sensation spreading down his arm and across his shoulders.  It started as a surface-level itch, but then it went more and deeper, and–

Izuku had thought he knew pain.  Shattering three of his four limbs in one go at the entrance exam, breaking his legs at the USJ, repeatedly breaking his fingers at the sports festival– He hadn’t done those things for fun.  He thought he knew burning, too, from ten years as Kacchan's punching bag.

This was different.  This wasn't just his skin burning, melting, his blood was on fire, his bones.  He was cracking open with every beat of his too-fast heart, something terrible trying to get out.  

This was agony, all the way down to his soul.  

.

Hideo was feeling pretty good about things, actually.  Elated, almost, like on a good roller coaster ride.  Yeah, there were risks, but this was kind of like hero work, wasn't it?  Giving the bad guy a beatdown and exposing him for the whole world to see.  

As soon as they got the needle in him, everyone stepped off, giving Deku room for his freak out and Hideo and the others a clear shot at the action with their phones.  

“Crap,” said Shinozaki.  “Crap, crap, crap.”

“What?” asked Hideo, distracted by how Deku was writhing on the ground.  It almost looked like he was fighting himself.  Freak.

“It's not like I got him the good stuff that goes down smooth, but that's not–  If he's a user, he shouldn't–  That's not what he should be acting like!”

Hideo's good mood vanished fast.  “Wait, you mean he wasn't on trigger…?”

“It's fine, it's fine, we just can't post this anywhere, we've got to stay quiet, it's not like he'll be able to identify us–  We didn't touch him.”

But that wasn't the imminent problem, was it, if Deku had a quirk like that?  If he had a quirk like that, and they'd just given him a shot of trigger?  A quirk booster?  

“Uh, um, guys?” said Kanemaru.  “When you say don't post it…”

“Yeah,” said Shinozaki, backing away, “I mean don't post it anywhere, forget that it happened.  Never speak of it again.  All that good stuff.”

“But I, um, I sort of… livestreaming.  I'm livestreaming.”

“You idiot–”

“Hey!  Hey!  Get away from my friend, you creeps!”

.

Ochako flopped down on her bed, doing her best impression of bonelessness.  Her internship with Gunhead had gone great, but she was so frickin’ tired.  She was glad it ended half a day before everyone else's - except for those guys who got caught up in Hosu, she guessed.  Iida was still in the hospital, but apparently Deku had gone home last night. 

She sighed.  She'd text him, but he'd emailed everyone saying his phone broke, so that was out.  So… she'd probably just scroll through the internet… it was a peanut butter and crackers for dinner sort of night…

Her phone rang.  She frowned at the number, but answered.  

“Uraraka!  Dieu merci, I was not sure you would answer!”

Ochako sat up.  “Aoyama?  What's wrong?”

“It is Midoriya!  I have found this, this livestream, of a bunch of gangsters chasing him through the streets.  And I call the police, but they do not get there so fast, and all our classmates, they are on their internships, and he must be near home–”

“Send me the link,” said Ochako, slamming her feet into her shoes and grabbing the can of pepper spray her mom had gotten her when she first started to live alone.  “Jiro and Mineta should still be in town, too, they got internships with local heroes.”  Who else was still around?  Ochako knew about Jiro, because she'd considered interning with Death Arms, too, and she remembered where Mineta was going, because he'd been gross about it, but there had to be others still around.  “You call them, okay?”

“Oui, Uraraka, I am sorry I cannot help more–”

“It's fine, it's fine,” said Ochako, jogging down the stairs outside her apartment.  She didn't remember where Aoyama was having his internship.  “The police, they're sending a hero, right?”

“I do not know.  They did not say, only that it would take time, that they have to confirm, that they do not know where this is, this video.”

She reached the bottom of the stairs.  “Okay, okay, I've got to go now, but you'll send the link to the video?”

“Oui, it is sent.  Be careful, Uraraka.”

“I will.  Bye.”

She hung up, then, and quickly navigated to the link Aoyama had sent her.  She swallowed back the anger she felt when she saw masked and hooded adults grappling a clearly-injured Deku, and started scanning the video for landmarks and street signs.  There had to be something. 

She rewound slowly, slowly.  The street signs were too small and blurry in the video, she couldn't read them.  

Wait.  

She scrolled forward.  That apartment building had its name on the front in huge kana.  She plugged the name into her maps app.  It wasn't too far from here.  If she ran– 

She was moving before she finished the thought.  She knew where it was, where Deku was.  

What she'd do when she got there… she wasn't sure.  There were at least thirty guys in the video.  But people who did stuff like this were ultimately cowards.  Sometimes, if they knew someone was watching them, if they knew someone saw what they were doing, they'd stop.  That's how Ochako's parents stopped a yakuza beating, once.  They'd just gone out with a broom, a baseball bat, and a phone connected to the police. 

… there had been a lot fewer of them, too, though, if she remembered correctly.  

It didn't matter.  If she had to use her quirk, she'd use it.  It'd be her first public quirk use citation, and if that meant she was suspended or expelled… it didn't matter.  What kind of hero would she be, if she didn't do her best to help a friend? 

She turned the last corner and saw the knot of villains.  She couldn't see Izuku from here, but he was visible on the livestream clearly enough.  

She dialed the emergency line.  “I'm on Obi Street, near the Millenium Building,” she said, once the operator had answered.  “There's a group of thirty villains beating up a student.”

“How do you know they're villains, ma'am?”

“They're using their quirks.” 

“Understood, I'm sending your location to the nearest hero.  Please find a place to shelter until they arrive.  Do not approach the villains, and stay on the line.”

Normally, Ochako would have followed instructions.  Honest.  But the villains moved strangely, and it was Deku.  He was basically her best friend, especially since Sakura back home stopped talking to her for stupid reasons.  

“Hey!  Hey!  Get away from my friend, you creeps!”

“Ma'am--" said the operator, but Ochako wasn't interested.  

Some of the villains turned towards her.  Others, apparently, hadn't heard her.  

“Who the hell're you?” demanded one of them, who was clearly used to using his mass to loom.  Joke was on him.  It didn't matter how much mass he had when she could use her quirk to negate it.  “Some kind of pervert slut who gets off taking it from subhuman freaks?”

Ochako didn't know how to respond to that, so she didn't.  “I have the police on the phone, so you'd better get lost!”

“Ma'am, please–”

“You think those fascist pigs scare us?  We're part of the new revolution, the–”

The big man stumbled and looked back.  The other villains jostled into each other, disorganized, and for the first time since looking at the livestream, Ochako saw Deku.  

He looked terrible.  Of course he looked terrible.  He was being beaten by a small mob.  He was bruised and bloodied and panting.  

His tongue was black.  

There was something else black, too.  Something like a gnarled, black root, growing from Deku's tattered sleeve and wrapping around the villain's ankle. 

“No,” said Deku, except it didn't sound very much like him at all.  

A thick, opaque fog exploded into being.  And then the screaming started.  

.

Hands gathered Izuku up.  Not gentle, exactly, but careful.  Not hurting.  They pulled him through the dark where lights flickered, uncertainly, like memories.  He opened his eyes and saw their faces, glowing, like fires that refused to be extinguished.  He knew them, but he didn't.  They could have been his, but they weren’t. 

“Ninth,” theh said, they whispered, they chanted.  There was power, there, burning and immense, and behind that power was purpose, but it was distorted, warped and shredded around the edges.  

This was not how this moment was supposed to go.  

There should have been triumph.  This should have been sacred.  A sharing of memories, a meeting of minds, a point of convergence, of singularity.  

How dare they?

How dare they–

–trap them - poison this - forget history - throw away this peace - hurt the boy - call them useless - touch Toshi's child - young Midoriya - say those things to Uraraka?

Uraraka was here?

Hush.  

Or–

Listen.  

Feel this.  Every strength they ever had.  Every memory that could aid their task.  Every skill, every scrap of knowledge, every quirk, every second of every year spent running-hiding-fighting.  All of it, brought together and finally expressed.  

They knew about trigger.  They had seen it, in all its gruesome forms.  Its purpose was to strengthen quirks, but the side effects - bodies twisted, quirks out of control, brains working at a fraction of their normal capacity.

One for All was a quirk.  A strange quirk, a difficult to understand quirk, but still a quirk, and everything within it was part of a quirk, and every thought they had happened in the brains of their Eighth and Ninth.  

At the moment, they were insane.  And they knew it.  And they didn't care.  

The purpose of One for All was to stop All for One, but that kind of specificity was a human foible, not something so easily encoded in the core of a quirk.  The end to which it put itself was the very destruction of evil and the eternal rebirth of hope.  Its favorite means was violence.  

“What are you talking about?”

Izuku tilted his head to one side.  Had he been talking?  Mumbling?  Muttering?  He should probably work on that.  But it didn't seem to matter so much when Blackwhip and Fifth were whispering to him the secrets of how to use rage to rip an enemy limb from limb, and Danger Sense hovered around him like a protective halo, Hikage watching his back.  

They were so, so, angry that it had spilled back over into serenity, like an overflow error on a computer.  

A fist came flying for him out of the swirling vapors of Smokescreen.  As soon as it brushed his cheek, Gear Shift grudgingly reversed its momentum.  Second did not approve of their current stronghold, but that did not mean he would permit an attack.

There was a snap, and then a scream, the man– no, the boy.  He couldn't be more than a year out of high school, if that.  The boy grasped at his broken wrist, howling.  

Izuku hadn't even done anything.  It was his own fault.  

Smokescreen whispered of an attempted escape, and Blackwhip dragged her back.  They weren't done with them yet.  

He didn't want to kill them or anything.  They just wanted to hurt them a little.  Ten years of quirklessness… twice.  And four lifetimes on the other side, running from people who thought meta powers were curses, or a symptom of a disease.   It was the same kind of bigotry, just reversed.  

There was just so much pain.  It hurt so much.  In his chest, in their head, in their hearts.  

Maybe if these little monsters felt some of it, they wouldn't do it again.  Maybe some of it would go away.  

.

Hideo stumbled through fog bank after fog bank, and started to wonder if he should call his mom.  He didn't always get on with his parents, but, if he was going to die…

There was a sort of scraping sound.  Then, footsteps.  They had to be close, close enough to touch.  The heavy fog dampened sound eerily.  Hideo froze, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Stop it!  Stay back!  How are you still moving?”

“Your vertigo quirk has its weaknesses, although it's useful for combat otherwise.  I'd ask you why you aren't trying to be a hero, but it's clear the problem is temperament.  Or, well, your entire personality, to be quite honest.”

There was a thump, a cracking sound and a shriek.  

“Stop!  Stop!  What do you want?  I can– my family has money.  Connections.  We can get you anything you want!  Just stop!”

“There is nothing we want more than you never doing anything like this again.”

The voice sounded like Deku's, but the cadence was all wrong.  Deku was a meek, shivering, stuttering nerd, and Hideo would have sworn that he'd stay that way, no matter what drugs they gave him.  

“I won't!  I won't!”

“It's nice of you to offer, but the only way people like you stop is of they're forced to stop, or if they're made to regret what they've done.  A lot.  All the time.”

“No, no, please!  No!”

There was an ugly cracking noise, and then a wet thump.

“Pathetic.”

Oh, god.  Oh, god, what kind of quirk was this, even?  There was no way Deku had a quirk like this all this time. 

A horrible thought came to him then.  What if it wasn't Deku?  Body-snatching quirks were a thing.  Hell, Bakugou had been targeted by one of those guys just last year.  And Deku had no friends, basically no family.  Who would notice when he started acting different?  Other than them, apparently. 

That was actually kind of sad.  Hideo would probably have had more pity to spare for Deku, though, if he wasn't using it all on himself. 

There hadn't been any sounds over there for a while, now.  Maybe it was safe to move again? 

“Hello, Hidaka Hideo,” said Deku's voice, right in his ear.  “It's been a long time.”

.

Kyoka wasn't entirely sure what was going on.  She had only been on the phone with Aoyama for a few confused seconds before the large-scale villain attack alarm went off, and what Death Arms said to her just after hadn't helped matters.  

Midoriya?  Taking trigger?  That didn't make any sense at all.  He was friends with Iida.  Totally straightedge.  

But apparently, he'd been given trigger.  As in, drugged, by a gang trying to beat him up.   Which, honestly, made even less sense.  Giving trigger to a guy you were fighting with…  It was like throwing a pair of brass knuckles to a guy you just hit, and daring them to do one better.  It was stupid. 

It was also on video, so Kyoka had to admit that some people were just that dumb, as unbelievable as that sounded. 

Whatever the Mensa squad's original goal had been, the result was… this.  A fat, billowing cloud that occasionally sprouted writhing black tentacles and faint but disturbing screams.  She didn't know what kind of quirks could combine to make something like this, and she didn't care.  She wasn't Midoriya.  The villains must have gotten spooked by Midoriya's quirk or something.  She just had to hope that they hadn't gotten spooked because Midoriya had broken all the bones in his body.  

What had happened at the sports festival had been… hard to watch.  

“Alright,” said Death Arms, “before we go in there, let's get some things down.  Earphone Jack, this Midoriya is your classmate?”

“Yeah,” said Kyoka.  

“He's not going to be himself, jumped up on trigger.  Don't try to get near him, or any of these villains.  He won't listen to reason, and I'll bet that these guys've been taking trigger, too, for a quirk effect like this. You're going to be flanked the whole time by these two,” he said, nodding towards a pair of sidekicks.  “The only reason we're bringing you with us is because we need someone who can navigate in all that crap, not for fighting.  Understood?”

Kyoka nodded.  “Understood.”

“Everyone else, go for restraint over injury, where possible.  We don't know if there are civilians other than Midoriya caught up in this.”

He spent another couple of seconds arranging the marching order, but then he finally gave them the order to move in.  

Inside the cloud, the air was cool, and drier than Kyoka had expected.  Not like fog, more like smoke.  Somehow, the screaming she'd heard on the outside was quieter in here as well.  Must be some quirk…  

“Group of three, that way,” she said, pointing.  

They took care of the villains quickly.  They didn't seem much older than Kyoka, and their quirk control was much worse.  They were tied up in class-C restraints in seconds.  

“We're going to have to carry them back out,” said Death Arms with a grimace.  “We can't just leave them here.”

“Oh, thank god,” said one of the villains.  “You guys are actual heroes!”

“As opposed to what?” asked Death Arms, gruffly.  

“The punk is probably talking about me.”

Kyoka jumped and turned.  Whoever that was, they'd managed to sneak up on them while making no sound at all.  Not even breathing.

The man was bald, wearing leather, and the same sort of rugged as Death Arms.  He also sort of… faded into the smoky clouds around him, almost as if he were made of them.  Even accounting for mutations, his smile was a bit too wide, his eyes a little too blank. 

The black, lashing tentacles around him, however, looked very real, especially when they scraped along the already-battered asphalt near his cloudy feet.  

“And who're you?” asked Death Arms, readying his fists.”

“They should have stayed away from our kid,” said the man without moving his mouth.  Then, in Midoriya's voice,  “It hurts! “

“Where-” started Death Arms, but the man was opening his mouth, wrist and wider.  Too wide.  Inside was a perfectly black hole. 

A faint rushing noise was the only warning before a dozen of those black tentacles came pouring out of the man's mouth.  They jostled and grabbed and wrapped around, and by the time Kyoka got her wits about her again, she and the rest of the heroes had been deposited outside the cloud. 

Death Arms looked shaken.  “I think we might need backup for this one.”

.

Ochako caught another glimpse of yellow gloves and a fluttering cape.  It was a hero.  It had to be, even if Ochako didn't recognize her.  Now, if only Ochako could get her attention…

She pushed through another bank of smoke.  The smoke was… weird.  When it first appeared, it looked like it was coming from Deku, but that couldn't be right.  He had a strength enhancement.  Like All Might.  But then, those black root things weren't a normal part of Deku's quirk, either.  

Maybe it was like Tsuyu's quirk.  She had a lot of different things she could do, and you normally wouldn't describe it as a jumping quirk instead of a frog mutation, but it did let her jump high.  She just… wasn't sure why Deku would do that.  Unless he didn't know?  

Ugh, all these things could wait until later, when her friend wasn't in trouble. 

“Miss Hero!” she tried again.  “Please wait!”

And this time, to Ochako's surprise, she did.  

She was tall - but not as tall as Ochako first thought.  She was floating above the ground, and the way the smoke clung to her…

“It's yours, then, the smoke?” asked Ochako, a little out of breath.  

“Not exactly,” she said, in a voice as thin as the smoke. 

A partner, then?  “The person they were beating up was my friend, do you know where he is?  Is he safe?”

The hero inclined her head, and then dissolved, the smoke that made up her body tearing away from itself.  The clouds behind her patted as well, revealing a large crater, and–

“Deku!”

She hopped down into the crater, avoiding broken electrical cables and gushing pipes.  

Deku looked even worse than he had minutes ago.  Red and green sparks danced over his body, and his skin was a ghostly gray.  He was shaking, and clutching at the ground, raw fingertips digging deep grooves into the remaining concrete.  

But before she could get to him, smoke swirled out of his body, and two more figures coalesced out of it.  A slender white-haired man in a t-shirt and loose pants, and a shorter, younger man in a long, high-collared coat that reminded Ochako of Best Jeanist's costume. 

“Wait a moment,” said the white-haired one.  

“Why?” demanded Ochako.  “Who are you people?”

“It's people like this that give my brother so much power,” said the man, which answered nothing. “They could use their abilities to help, but instead they act out of jealousy and envy.”

“Unless there's been a big change recently,” said the other man, “that dosage of Japanese trigger lasts for three minutes, maximum.”

Ochako looked down at her dead phone.  How long had it been?

“Wait a moment,” repeated the white-haired man.  “There is still justice to be done, there are still things to be made right.”

“I'm sure you're tough.  Are you tougher than concrete?” asked the other man.  “We don't remember that.”

“Wait a moment.  I wish my brother were here, so I could pound his stupid face in.”

“We really, really don't.”

“Uh,” said Ochako.  Were these guys, like, all there?  “There are villains here who tried to hurt him, so–”

“Wait a moment,” said the white-haired man.  He sounded frustrated.  “Wait a moment.  They are being discouraged.”

“Vehemently.”

“Wait a moment.  He won't remember this.  Tell him we will speak again.”

“We'll try, anyway.”

Ochako looked between the two of them.  Maybe she could run by them… Were their bodies even solid? 

Deku shuddered, and the force behind the movement sent more cracks through the concrete, deepened the crater.  Ochako threw up her arm to protect her eyes from dust. 

When she lowered her arms again, the figures of the two men were dissipating back into smoke, and the smoke itself was wisping away.  Deku was lying still, now, eyes closed, breathing heavily.  Ochako checked him carefully for quirk effects, but didn't see any, and approached. 

“Deku?”

He didn't respond.  According to the first aid course she'd taken to boost her chances of being accepted at UA, she shouldn't move him unless there was imminent danger, in case of broken bones or neck injuries.  The pipes and wires… that situation would probably hold for a while longer.  The villains…

She climbed back out of the crater and looked around.  She could see both sides of the street, now, even if it was hazy.  The glass in most of the nearby windows was broken.  The street itself and the sidewalks were gravel.  One streetlight had been knocked over.  

And scattered all over were the prone forms of the villains.  They didn't look like they were moving.  Ochako stared at the nearest one, frightened, until she saw that they were still breathing.  So she should stay with Deku until first responders got there.  Hopefully, that would be soon.

Her phone chirped as it came back to life, whatever quirk effect keeping it inoperable disappearing with the smoke. She looked down at it, briefly.  It was an older model, and usually took a minute or longer to turn back on all the way. 

She scanned the street again, squinting to see through the thinning smoke, and, oh thank goodness.  That was Death Arms, wasn't it?  And Jiro!  She waved frantically.  

This whole thing had lasted only a few minutes, but it had felt like forever. 

.

In other news, the large-scale disruption in residential Musutafu today occurred when a group of thirty-two villains chased down and injected a UA student with trigger.  The villains were mostly high school and college students with otherwise clean records.  According to Musutafu PD, the villains believed the student was somehow using trigger to fake having a quirk.  A statement released by UA with the permission of the student's guardian not only refutes those claims, but includes select medical data from the student's most recent hospital visit, only days before.  These records show no evidence of the student having ever taken any form of performance enhancing drug.  The student was the only civilian injured in the event, and is recovering at an undisclosed location.  The police are investigating the possibility of classifying the incident as a hate crime.  Now, Ms. Long with the weather–

.

Izuku pried his eyes open blearily.  His head was pounding, his bones ached,  and his mouth tasted like he'd licked Dagobah Beach.  Before he'd cleaned it up.  Where was he and what was he doing there?  

He blinked a few times.  Actually, that ceiling looked familiar…

“Ah!” said Recovery Girl, who was suddenly in his field of vision.  “You're awake.”

Before Izuku could ask what had happened, she was running through a cognitive test.  Despite his confusion, he answered her questions as best he could, and she didn't seem disappointed, so he must have gotten a good grade.  Was that something you could get on a cognitive test?

“What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?” she asked, finally.  

“Uh, um,” said Izuku.  “I used one of the gyms at the school… here, I mean… for physical therapy stuff.  Then sat in on one of the support classes - that was really cool - then, um, the train… and I was walking home…  Was I hit by a car?” he guessed.  

Recovery Girl sighed.  “You were attacked by villains and injected with trigger.  Trigger heavily cut with other drugs, no less.”

“What?!” said Izuku trying to sit up.  Recovery Girl pushed him back down.  

“The villains were all captured.  They won't be doing anything like that again.”  She set a bowl of broth down on the table attached to Izuku's bed.  

“But did I– What did I–?”  Even if he didn't remember anything, trigger made people do all sorts of weird stuff.  And One for All wasn't an ordinary quirk.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Recovery Girl.  “You focus on recovering your stamina, so we can do something about all those microfractures you have.”

“I thought– I thought you said you wouldn't treat me anymore,” said Izuku, bewildered.  

“I never–” Recovery Girl stopped, pressed her lips together.  “What I meant to say, at the end of the sports festival, is that I won't be able to heal you with my quirk if you keep getting injuries like that.  There's a limit to what can be healed, even with quirks, as you well know.”

Izuku thought back to All Might's wound, and shuddered.  Which.  Ow.  

“If you can keep that down,” said Recovery Girl, nodding to the broth, “I'll see about letting some of your visitors in.”

“Like Mom?  And, um, All Might?” guessed Izuku.

“Your mother is here already,” said Recovery Girl, nodding at the green-haired lump in the neighboring bed.  “Just got her to take a nap herself, after she spent all night fretting.  But, yes, All Might isn’t above using his position to get to the top of your visitor list.  Although he isn't the only one on it.  All your classmates called in from their internships, and I had to ban that girl from the support course.  I won’t have untested support equipment around my patients, no matter what the medical applications are.  Uraraka and Jiro from your class were also here earlier…”

Izuku listened as she bustled around the medical wing and continued to chatter about his visitors and well-wishers, and felt… warm.  Later, he was sure there would be consequences beyond missing memories, sore muscles, and broken bones, but for now… it was nice to know he had people who cared.  He didn't think he'd ever get tired of that. 

With a shaky hand, he picked up the soup spoon and started on the broth. 

.

“Mr. Hidaka,” said the lawyer, more to Hideo's father than Hideo, even if the lawyer was technically representing Hideo, “I'm afraid to say that the government's case is ironclad.  Between the livestream video, the messages to the other defendants, being found at the scene of the crime, the evidence of quirk use…  The best we can hope for is the young villain diversion program, but that's only possible if you plead guilty and implicate any other co-conspirators.  Otherwise, you're old enough to be charged as an adult, and even if they don't do that, juvenile villain facilities aren't great places to be.”

“But Deku–” started Hideo.  

“Hideo,” growled his father.  

“I was attacked–”

“Hideo, shut up.  You'll take the guilty plea and hope you get it in before any of rhe cretins you call friends.  And if you say anything about this Midoriya boy again…”

Hideo swallowed and nodded.  Goddamned Deku.  How come he got everything good, and Hideo was in here?  It wasn't fair.  It wasn't fair.  Goddamned Deku.  

But what was he supposed to do?  He wasn't an actual villain.  He just wanted things to be right. 

“Fine,” he said.  “I'll do it.”

“Great!” said the lawyer, gathering his papers.  “I just have to talk to the prosecuter.”

Goddamn Deku.  Why couldn't Hideo have his life?

[cloudluvrrr]

Past.

a/n: YALL WANTED THIS BAD OMG so pt 2 to my before fic, basically it goes a little further back and a lot more in detail after his planet blew up :3. This one’s long! But Tysm :)

Past boothill x reader ft some headcannons. (Gender neutral w some fem indication later on)

forwards reckon rebound

--

-Boothill was a sweet kid, a little dumb at times but he always gave his effort. Always curious and helping out on his families farm, helping his dads with his siblings as hes the 3rd oldest .

-He never gave much trouble as a kid, always listening other than sleeping in more or sleeping on hay sometimes.

-his family wasn't made of money, but he always had everything he needed or want.

-Growing up with the idea girls had cooties...as he eats crayons.

-he learns guitar as he got one for christmas, he goes to the local church to learn how to play it. He'd bring his scuffed up cd player to show the teacher the songs he wanted to learn.

-His parents take him out every weekend, teaching him how to hunt, ride a horse or how to shoot a gun.

-he has a habit of looking off into the distance. Wide eyes as he looked off into the sunset wondering what was beyond his small family and tribe.

-He loves stories, often reading picture books at the library or getting one of his parents too read it to him before bed. As well as sneaking into his dads room to watch his shows, his favorite being of an outlaw.

-His family went to church once in awhile, but always went during christmas. Boothill hated dressing up, but he loved the songs. When he learned guitar would join as well, playing christmas songs.

-Everyone in town knew him, he was always making a name for himself.

--

-You'd show up in his life while he was in school, messily drawing on his math paper (instead of doing it) with his tongue out as the teacher announced a new student. As you were a new student in 3th grade, boothill being boothill would introduce himself as the class sheriff to impress you.

"I'm Boothill, the class sheriff! I keep everyone in line, and make sure they all do what they're supposed too!" he said in a confident tone puffing out his chest.

-Thats where it all began.

--

-the teacher put you beside him which made him often pout and utter that you had cooties, while he didn’t do his work.

-he often ‘patrolled’ during recess but in reality no one wanted to play with him. (Since he had two dads and he looked nothing like them) they didn’t like how different he was from them. So he decided to give you a shot, since you also only sat on the swing set.

‘Hey..’ he said with a slight frown ‘..I’m not busy today patrollin’ wanna play’ he asked looking away with a small dust of pink on his cheeks

‘..sure, you can push me’ you said perking up

—

-after that you’d always sit on the swing set together, as he’s talk about anything and everything. How he didn’t like waking up early, how his youngest sibling kicked him in the shin, his horse, how Nick complimented his shooting. He loved talking about his family

‘..maybe you should come over.. you’d like the meatloaf my daddy makes’ he said kicking his feet against the dirt ‘if you want too.. it’s a big White House with a barn ‘bout 10 minutes from town’

‘I’ll ask about it, I’d like to see your animals. All we have right now is chickens, and they get annoying’

You went to his farm, his family was happy he'd made a friend. That was the first of many visits!

--

-You two soon became inseparable as you grew older and closer, everyone in town knew when one was around the other probably was too.

-Always going to school festivals together, shopping, staying out at night, laying in fields at night looking at the constellations, coming home wet from splashing each other with water.

-It was a romance from the novels you read, the only part left was the confession. You often thought about it, 'maybe this week..' you'd think as another day went by and he hadn't confessed.

-Until that faithful day

-The sun was setting, it was a day like any other. He seemed a bit on edge but it was normal.

-

He was sitting up, his chin resting on his shoulder as he stared out at the cornfield near his house mindlessly. The sky a peachy tint as you laid on his sheets, looking up at him admiring his long hair and jawline. '...I like you" he said softly his gaze never leaving the window.

'really?' you couldn't believe it, finally it happened. 'I like you too, ya know' you replied still admiring his figure. His gaze meets yours and eventually his lips. The same lips that introduced himself in the past, chapped yet soft.

You'd never felt more in love.

-

-the next few weeks didn't change much, kisses here and there and he'd get more touchy. But he also spoke more about the future, how he wanted to either build or fix a older house. He wanted a small family, a farm and barn animals.

'I'd like to fix up that house at the end of town" he said leaning against the barn door looking off into the distance once more, as you looked over his barn cats kittens. 'You think you could?' you add standing up and leaning in front of him

'Yeah, make it all nice and pretty for you' and smile wrapping a hand around your waist. 'A pretty kitchen, cozy livin' room, big room..' he said with a small giggle kissing your nose.

'it'd be a dream baby'

-Soon after he told you he was dropping out of school, he was 17 and decided he didn’t need to further his education. And just help out his dads on the farm, while he scrapped together some money. You were mad, but understood he had a different path and mind than yours. Even if you tried arguing with him that he only needed 2 more years to graduate, he’d blow it off and just go fix his truck.

-but while you were at school getting educated (weirdo) he eventually fixed up the old house at the end of town he always spoke about. He’d also made a small ring, with a single stone on it. He could afford a real promise ring, but he thought this one was more special. Even carving their initials on it.

-one day when you both were old enough, and you were out of school be finally brought you to the home. And promising to stay by your side.

‘Your lyin’ you said looking at the delicate ring

‘..no? I want you to be by my side, while I save up for your weddin’ ring’ he said softly slipping it onto your finger.

‘Cause your my past present and future’ he said pressing pecks all over your face.

-soon you both lived together, slowly building your life on the farm, getting chickens, moving his horse from his family’s farm to your forever home. It was a dream all over again

-it was mundane, you would tend or the animals and boothill would fix things and do the heavy work or sometimes you’d do the heavy lifting and when he’d leave for a few days. At the end of the night you’d lay in bed together. You wouldn’t have it another way.

-when there wasn’t work done he’d sit out under a tree playing his guitar, watching you put his shirts on the clothes line. As he hummed and played love songs.

He’d sneak up on you snatching you into his arms and tackling you into the grass. As he admired your laughing face.

-19 was when he found the baby girl in the cold, lost in thought. When he heard the cry, and your lives changed once more. Now a family of 3.

-it was hard, you didn’t make much money. But his family had hand me downs, boothills old crib and toys. You’d sew her dresses, boothill would attempt at making hats and mittens for her as well.

They were always too big, and he’d say she’d grow into them while the girl sucked on the fluffy oversized mitten in his arms. Looking up at him with wide eyes, he wasn’t even 20 and he felt fulfilled.

-when she was a little older and starting to crawl around and walk a little, he carved her a small cherry wood guitar.

She couldn’t play it, but when he had his out he gave her the small guitar so she could ‘play’ along side him.

-he loved the days where he’d sit outside and the little one was waddling around picking up dandelions and handing them to him

‘Oh for me? Their so pretty darlin’’ he smiled softly ruffling the girls hair and letting her waddle around more as she babbled to herself.

-sometimes he’d think of leaving but

-it was all perfect, a house he’d fixed, a barn with animals, his perfect lover, a daughter, all he needed was to make it official. An engagement ring.

-he was saving for months, finally he had the money to buy the one you were eyeing at the store.

‘I’m going to the market’ he announced putting the bills in his wallet.

‘Can’t I join? I got a bad feelin’ Boothill, them ipc people don’t like the town’ you said.

He hesitated ‘it’s just my usual errand nothing special’ he replied kissing you. ‘I’ll be back take care of her for me’ he smiled kissing the girls cheek.

—

Only to return to ashes, he’d heard two workers joke about this very tragedy. He thought nothing of it. Not till he heard the explosions, and saw the flames. He couldn’t bring himself to go inside, he can’t imagine what it was like.

He couldn’t bring himself to tears, those twenty years he’d spend building his life with you gone.

The ashes of your once blue home, the farm on fire. He couldn’t bring himself to search for your bodies, he barely made it to find your family pictures.

He didn’t sleep, for 3 days and then he slept for 3 days straight. Before leaving behind two crosses over the sight.

And he finally left the planet, he spent a few months searching before he found a doctor that could help him.

He decided he needed to end his life, to kill his current self. Leave his past, and that’s exactly what he did. His mechanic fixed him.

All he remembers is the taste of metallic in his mouth and seeing his heart removed, as he died.

His rebirth into Boothill

—

Basically a yap session and excuse to talk ab him again after the 2.6 story line :P might add or not

Hope you enjoyed 😣

tags :3

@jassy-ine @shuzoku @sneakylilbartender @kita-01 @edxo @blueangelstone

[heavyhitterheaux]

Notice Me

AN: We're going to pretend that Latto was the headliner on day one because SZA is the face claim lol

Synopsis: While at Gazebo Fest with your best friend, you happen to meet Jack, and the two of you quickly take to each other. Once you part ways, you are heavy on Jack’s mind, and he's determined to see you again

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Why is it so got damn hot out here?!” Your best friend Kayla asked as she was digging through her clear backpack to find something to fan herself with.

“You do realize that it's the end of May and almost June, right?” You replied as you laughed at her and took a sip of water.

The two of you were in the VIP section of Gazebo Fest and couldn't wait to see all the different performances throughout the entire weekend, but you were most excited to see your celebrity crush for as long as you could remember, Jack Harlow.

You had gotten there two days before so that it could give you some time to explore Louisville before having to go to the festival. You and Kayla had gone to Churchill Downs, Morris Deli, and to see his Hometown Hero banner. Before the two of you went home, the goal was to hit up Barrels and Billets to make your own bourbon to take back home with you.

Glancing at the time, you quickly opened the Gazebo Fest app on your phone to see who would be performing next and got excited when you saw that it was Paris Texas. As you were sliding your phone in your back pocket, Kayla started hitting your arm repeatedly.

“Ow! What is your problem?!” You exclaimed while turning to look at her.

“I spy a mullet and that can only mean that it belongs to your man. Look to your left. Okay slowly turn and look. I see Clay too!”

Doing as you were told, you quickly saw him and you felt your heart skip a beat. Kayla liked Jack and his music, but she was more so here for Vince Staples as well as the younger Harlow.

“Maybe you'll get a marriage proposal before we leave on Monday.”

“Kayla, as much as I would like that… shut up.”

“Hey, stranger things have happened.” She replied while holding her hands up in defense.

Once Paris Texas set was over, the crowd dispersed and only a few of you were left at the barricade talking and mingling amongst each other when Kayla leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“I need to pee.”

“What the? Why are you whispering? Is that supposed to be a secret?”

“I don't want to go by myself and the girl next to me told me that she would save our spots.”

“Come on then.” You said as you went and grabbed her hand.

The two of you started walking to the VIP bathrooms when your breath hitched in your throat as you saw Jack was sitting in the driver's seat of a golf cart surrounded by people on his team.

“Sike! I don't have to pee, but go over to your man! He's looking at you and smiling!”

“Kayla…” You said through gritted teeth since you knew that she knew how shy you were. 

All she did was slightly push you forward as Jack waved you over to come to him.

“Hey pretty girl, enjoying yourself so far?” Jack asked you as you had finally worked up the nerve to approach him. Your heart was racing a mile a minute.

“So far, I have no complaints so my answer is yes.” You responded while smiling.

Your only goal was not to look absolutely crazy in front of him. But you were going to kill Kayla later. 

“Is it your first time here in Louisville?”

“No, I've been here before, but this is the first time that I actually got to explore the city. I was here for every NPLH you had.”

“Where are you from?”

“The DMV. Maryland specifically.”

“The D stands for Delaware right?” Jack curiously asked, but you immediately shook your head no.

“Do me a favor. When you go there again, do not let anyone hear you say that. It stands for D.C. Now Delmarva is Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia.” You answered while trying not to laugh.

“Then it's a good thing that I asked you, huh?”

“Yes, because somebody would have taken offense to that, believe it or not.”

“What song do you want to hear me do tomorrow?”

“I… How am I supposed to do just one?!”

“Fine. Give me your top five.”

“I need you to do every song you've ever recorded, but five does give me a little more wiggle room. Hmm, Heavy Hitter, Ghost, Sundown, Eastern Parkway, Dark Knight, and I NEED Smells Like Incense because you've never done that one live.”

“Oh, I got a day one in my presence. And that was six songs by the way.” He replied while giving you a boyish grin.

Jack was captivated the first time he laid his eyes on you earlier that afternoon from behind the Gazebo stage as he saw you and Kayla at barricade. 

“I told you that it was hard for me to choose. You're lucky I didn't say Power Tools.”

“Damn, not you going back to The Handsome Harlow.”

“Have to admit it's one of my favorites.” You replied as you shrugged.

“I don't want to keep you from your friend all day, but I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Hearing him say that made you feel as though you were going to burst from having so many butterflies.

“You won't have to look far either. I'll be barricade.”

The rest of the day you and Kayla made the most of it watching all of the performances, getting drinks, and taking pics with Urban as well as other members of Private Garden.

The next morning, both of you woke up when your alarm went off at 8 ready for the day ahead. Both of you started off with mimosas and quickly moved to taking a few shots before it was ultimately time to get ready.

What stopped you in your tracks was a notification on your Gazebo app saying that because of the weather, the doors wouldn't be opening at 1 and to stay close to your phone to keep up with the alerts.

“You can't be fucking serious. We need to get barricade!” You said as you ran to the window to look outside at the weather. For right now, the sky was simply cloudy and gloomy. Not a raindrop in sight.

“What's wrong?” Kayla asked as she opened a bag of doritos and began stuffing them in her mouth.

“The opening of the gates are delayed.” You replied as you rolled your eyes.

“Until when!?”

“I'm not sure, it didn't say. I guess they'll send out another update so we can know.”

Kayla then grabbed her phone to pull up the weather app and simply shook her head.

“Babe, I don't know. I think we just might be under a tornado warning.”

“A WHAT!? NO! WHY TODAY? CAN IT WAIT UNTIL TOMORROW?” You exclaimed while running back towards the window.

“Apparently not.”

“Let's just pray that they don't cancel it. I know you have a date with your baby daddy later. I saw mine yesterday.” 

“He is literally the entire reason I came this weekend and now that might be ruined.”

“Let's just try and stay positive. We don't even have a concrete answer yet. Things could always change. But let's get our outfits together so we can be ready.”

It was now around 4 PM on Sunday and Jack was stressed. He had put so much time and effort as well as money into this and all he wanted to do was bring a music festival back to his city while having some of his favorite artists perform. He was trying not to sulk, but it was looking more and more like day 2 of Gazebo Fest wasn't about to happen.

“At least we had a good first day. You can't be mad at yourself for that.” Urban said as he sat down next to him.

“I know. I just don't want to compromise anyone's safety. People are going to be pissed.”

“They'll be pissed but they'll be alive.” He heard Clay say as he walked into the room.

“Then I need to call it.”

After he posted to his Instagram story the sad news of it being canceled, his thoughts immediately went to you.

“SHIT!”

“What? What's wrong?” Both Clay and Urban asked as they looked at him.

“The girl I was talking to yesterday.”

“You talked to a lot of girls yesterday?” Clay responded, confused as to what he was getting at.

“Not as long as I did her! The one with the curly hair!”

“Oh in VIP?”

“Yeah, and I totally forgot to ask her what her name was. Fuck.”

“Yall got a date or something we don't know about?”

“I was going to ask her when I saw her today, but now that's damn near impossible.”

Now not only was day two not happening, but he wasn’t about to see you either, until an idea came to him.

“Do you two remember what she looks like?” He asked both Urban and Clay as they nodded their heads.

“Okay, this might be a long shot, but maybe we can find her on instagram?”

“What the? How the HELL are we supposed to do that?” Clay asked, looking at his older brother in disbelief.

“The gazebo tag.” Urban answered for him and Jack simply nodded.

“Let’s get to it then.”

The three of them had been searching for a total of two hours when Urban had finally found you. He took a quick screenshot of the picture that was posted on Kayla’s page and cropped it before handing his phone to Jack.

“Found her!” 

“Let me see!”

As Urban was handing Jack his phone, it slipped out of his grasp onto the carpet below and Jack quickly dove for it, but it was too late. The screen had hit the home button on the app and everything had refreshed.

“You cannot be fucking serious! It refreshed your feed!”

“Wait, I got a screenshot!”

Urban quickly took his phone back and pulled it up in his gallery to show him as Clay was now looking over both of their shoulders to see what was happening.

“But you cropped it! It doesn’t have the username anymore!” Jack said before sighing and defeat was quickly washing over him.

“Hold on, now I have an idea.” Clay said while smirking.

Jack eyed him and motioned for him to continue.

“Post the screenshot and ask your followers on instagram to find her for you.”

You and Kayla had been in your hotel room sulking for hours at the fact that Gazebo day 2 had been canceled. So the two of you quickly decided to watch Jack’s interview along with WMCJ to pass the time, until Kayla screamed at the top of her lungs while looking down at her phone.

“BITCHHHHH!”

“Leave me to sulk in peace.” You replied while putting the comforter over your head.

“I don’t think you’ll be sulking too much longer. Jack is looking for you.”

“Excuse me?” Now this caught your attention and the comforter was now lying beside you as Kayla shoved her phone in your face as you saw his post on instagram.

Liked by urbanwyatt, claybornharlow, gazebo, quiiso, taylorrooks, and 1,284,096 others

jackharlow: I need a favor. Someone find the girl on the left for me.

When you were done looking at it, you handed Kayla back her phone and laid back down.

“Bitch, what the fuck are you doing? Your HUSBAND is looking for you! Respond to this man!”

“But… I don’t know…” You said while playing with the ends of your curly hair. 

“You don’t know what? He obviously wants to talk to you again so what’s the problem?”

“What if this isn’t even what we think it is?”

“Y/N, he made an instagram post asking millions of his followers to find you. I think he’s making it pretty clear that more than likely he wants to date you.”

“I… now I know your ass is delusional.” You said while looking at her and shaking your head.

“Well, what do YOU think the reason is? Because I KNOW my ass is right. Just respond and see what he says. It can’t hurt. You didn’t get to see him perform today so this is the next best thing. You have to learn to take chances and not be so scared all the time.”

You sat there contemplating what you were going to do when you noticed that Kayla was staring at you.

“What?”

“If you get to fuck Jack Harlow, I want a five page research paper with sources and a title page in APA format when we get back home.” 

It had been around six in the evening when you had seen Jack’s post and still hadn’t thought of a way to creatively respond to it. It was now ten at night and you and Kayla were getting ready to go to an after party that Ace Pro was hosting not too far from where your hotel was when you had gotten the perfect idea once you were settled in Kayla’s car. You had quickly explained to her what the plan was and it seemed as if she was more excited than you were about you finally responding to him. 

“I knew what I was doing when I picked out that outfit for you! He is bound to see you in this and rip it off the second that you two are in person.”

“KAYLA!”

“What?! Just telling the truth. Now pose so we can get a good one and post it.”

Liked by mahkaylaaa, jackharlowsource, urbandjack26, gazebo, and 348 others

barricadebaddie: word on the street is that jackharlow is looking for me. Is that true?

Your location was set to Streets of Louisville and you were hoping that he would see it and respond.

You just hope that you didn’t take too long to answer him. 

It took less than fifteen minutes for a notification to pop up on your phone saying that you had a new message on instagram.

1 New Message from jackharlow 

“KAYLA HE SENT ME A MESSAGE!” The two of you had just pulled up to the club that the after party was going to take place in when your heart started beating a mile a minute once more.

“WELL OPEN IT!” 

jackharlow

I meant what I said when I told you that I looked forward to seeing you today. I wanted to meet up with you tonight if you were up for it.

You

Of course I’m up for it

jackharlow

If you’re at Ace’s party I’m on my way there

You

See you when you get here

jackharlow

Then I was hoping we can go somewhere by ourselves

Your eyes went wide as you shoved your phone into Kayla’s hand who quickly took it and read the message.

“Oh yeah, yall fucking later. If you need condoms, I got you.”

“I swear I can’t take your ass anywhere.”

“Look, don’t get mad at me for being prepared.”

You

I’d like that and I’m definitely up for it

Jack had liked your message before you saw that he quickly followed you. 

You and Kayla went inside and had gone all the way in the back in the far left corner as the two of you ordered drinks and simply waited for Jack to arrive. A lump felt as if it was growing in your throat that you quickly swallowed back down knowing that it was your nerves getting the best of you.

As shy of a personas you are, many times you thought about leaving and heading back to the hotel, but Kayla was right. You needed to stop being scared of your own shadow and live out of your comfort zone.

It was around 11:30 when a lot of commotion was happening near the entrance of the club, and that could only mean one thing.

Jack was finally here. 

You quickly opened instagram to shoot him a message letting him know where you were and simply waited until he made his rounds as he was speaking to different people and also got into the DJ booth with Ace. When he finally glanced down at his phone, your guess was that he was reading your message and he quickly looked to his left and spotted you. A small grin came across his face as he slid his phone back into his pocket and made his way over to you. 

“Have fun, I’m going to get another drink.” Kayla said as she saw Jack headed over towards you and quickly got up to make her way towards the bar before you could protest.

Once Jack had finally reached you, he leaned down to embrace you into a hug and he lightly pulled you into him, making you stand all the way up before leaning down and whispering in your ear. 

“For a minute there, I thought you weren’t going to respond to me.”

“Hmm, I admit I was hesitant, but I figured why not? You obviously wanted to find me for a reason, so here I am.”

“When I see something I want, I’m persistent until I get it.” Jack replied as he played with the ends of your hair and you just knew for a fact that you were about to faint right then and there. 

“And after all of that yesterday, I forgot to ask what your name was.”

“It’s Y/N.” You responded while laughing, having not even noticed that you never told him your name.

“Well, Y/N, you ready to get out of here?”

“On one condition.”

“And what’s that pretty girl?”

“A private show.”

“Hmm, of my songs or were you thinking about something else?” He asked as he leaned down to whisper in your ear once more, but this time kissed the shell of it.

“I’ll take both if you’re up for it.”

“It took me all damn day to find you, so I’m definitely up for it.”

[sillylittlegirlthoughts]

Hiii maybe wroetoshaw festival fic? Can either be social media or irl🫶🫶

festival | wroetoshaw

thank you anon for this request!! this is if you, harry and friends went to a festival together. i might also write a fic where you meet harry at a festival if you’d be interested !!

w2s x reader

open for requests.





Harry smiled at you as he watched you primp yourself up on the train. Purely afraid of being rushed out into the festival once you arrived. You hated being rushed.

He admired you, watching as your eyes light up and your smile grew wider as you and chip discussed the anticipation you both had for the following days. On the train was you, Harry, Chip and Freezy. Many others were going. The remainder of the sidemen, Callux, Talia, Freya and Willne. To name a few. Your friend group were extremely lucky with their opportunities but they found it was always for work that they were meeting up. Yes, this weekend many people were bringing along their vlogging cameras but they weren’t there because they had to be everyone wanted to be there.

“I’m looking forward to a couple of pints,” Harry added to the conversation. Chip laughed, “Aren’t we all my friend.” As he held up his water bottle waiting for Harry to return the toast.

liked by taliamar, w2s and 32,679 others

y/n y/l/n: weekend loading…..

theburntchip, cal sitting beside y/n sobbing

calfreezy, i thought i was loved

y/ny/l/n, who told you that?

w2s, chip looks like he’s already had a weekend

theburntchip, bugger off

y/ny/l/n, he did just have to sit beside you for three hours

taliamar, so so so excited to see you!!!!!

y/ny/l/n, i miss you!!

callux, please hurry some of us need a drink

The four of us arrived at our hotel, eager to get out and explore the festival grounds. You loved hotels, something Harry knew. You were too busy looking for the reception to notice Harry had changed which hand was lugging his suitcase as he intertwined your fingers with the other. You finally broke out of your trance. “Hi Harry.” You smiled and he sheepishly smiled back.

Once you all arrived in your room, messages from the groupchat came flooding through. Everybody begging the four of you to hurry. “Tell Simon we’ll be there in a minute,” you groaned, unable to find your shoes. “I just need to find these shoes.” You rummaged through your suitcase that might have been a little too full. “These ones?” Harry queried holding up your shoes as you pulled them from his hands. “Yes! Oh my god.” Harry smiled as you kissed him on the cheek, scurrying to put your shoes on.

You and Harry made it to the lobby just after Chip and Freezy. A group, probably to others distaste, were gathered in the middle. All riddled with a buzz of excitement. It radiated as you smiled as soon as you seen the herd of them. “Y/n!” You heard one of them shout, only if you knew which one. Harry’s name was called soon after as he came into their view. “So good to see you.” Callux said as he embraced you. “Great to see you too.” You smiled at him before being welcomed by another’s embrace and then it carried on. Eventually, everyone arrived on the field for the festival. The good thing was, music was playing from every end on every stage. Everybody ran for a drink. “Would you like a beer?” Harry asked, pointing to the bar some were already off too. “Please, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” He replied, giving your forehead a kiss before moving on.

As the sun went down, the atmosphere grew and drunk levels were significantly increased. You and Harry were dancing with one another, his hand sometimes resting on your waist but other than that it was reckless dancing. Unfortunately, as you danced your night away you knocked over a man’s beer behind you. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry—Let me, let me buy you another.” You scrambled as you picked up his cup, looking at him with apologetic eyes. “What the fuck! What the fuck!” He yelled, Harry turned around. “Hey mate, back off!” He shouted, the guy just laughing in his face. His girlfriend rapidly apologised logging her boyfriend through the crowd. “I’m so sorry. He’s so drunk. Sorry.”

Harry wrapped his arm around your shoulder as they walked away into the crowd. “Hey. You okay?” He yelled over the bustle of the crowd. “I’m fine, Harry. It’s just people when they’re drunk.” You said, it didn’t bother you but something about his anger felt so genuine even through the slurred speech and drunken eyes. Suddenly the crowd raved as the main artist came on stage. Harry nudged your arm with excitement. “For this first song, grab your significant other or maybe someone you care about.” Harry had never leaned into you faster his arms grasping your waist as he turned to face you. The song flowed as did your bodies. “I love you.” Harry spoke as he pulled you closer. “I love you more.” He pulled you in for a kiss and the night never felt younger.

y/ny/l/n posted!

liked by w2s, calfreezy and 23,216 others

y/n y/l/n: if i told you we only drank a little would you believe us?

w2s, i look out of it in everything im in

stephentries, you were

y/ny/l/n, you necked two pints in like 40 seconds

stephentries, i love my boyfriend 🥰

y/ny/l/n, you can have him

w2s, oi

willne, my shoulders are suffering

calfreezy, my heads suffering boy

taliamar, before my cowboy boots got destroyed thanks to simon

y/ny/l/n, men! i will get you new cowboy boots

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Breaking Point

This is the second part of The F1 Princess

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: non

Summary: He bond between you and Toto Wolff deepens amidst playful teasing and growing rumors. An emotional outburst at a team dinner reveals your frustration.

One Shot Masterlist

___________________________________________________

The summer break had arrived, and the F1 world was on pause. You decided to visit your hometown for a few weeks, catching up with old friends and spending time with your family. During this time, you found yourself thinking about Toto more than usual. The bond you shared was undeniable, and the drivers' teasing had started to make you question your feelings.

One evening, you and Alex sat in your childhood backyard, enjoying the warm night air. Alex had noticed your preoccupation and decided to bring it up.

"You know, (Y/N)," Alex began, breaking the comfortable silence, "I've been thinking about you and Toto."

You looked at him, curious. "Oh? What about us?"

Alex smiled gently. "It's clear to everyone that he cares about you a lot. More than just as a friend."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "I know, Alex. But what if things don't work out? What if we ruin our friendship?"

Alex leaned forward, his expression serious. "Toto is a good man, (Y/N). He's kind, supportive, and he makes you happy. I think you should give it a chance. Besides, you won't know unless you try."

You pondered his words, feeling a mix of fear and hope. "What if I'm not ready? What if I'm scared to commit?"

Alex reached out, taking your hand. "It's okay to be scared. But don't let that fear stop you from experiencing something beautiful. Just think about it."

The F1 season resumed, and you found yourself back in the paddock. As usual, you were with the Mercedes team, but there was a noticeable tension in the air. You caught Toto's eye several times throughout the weekend, each time feeling a flutter in your chest.

You decided to take a step back from your close interactions with Toto, hoping to quell the relentless rumors. You still attended races but made a conscious effort to keep a low profile, avoiding Toto whenever possible.

Toto, sensing something was wrong, tried to reach out to you multiple times, but you always found a reason to be elsewhere. The paddock quickly noticed the change, and even the fans began to speculate about what had happened between you two.

During the Italien Grand Prix, the tension reached its peak. You avoided the Mercedes garage entirely, spending most of your time with Alex at Red Bull.

After qualifying, the drivers gathered in the paddock club for a brief celebration. Despite the festive atmosphere, the air was thick with curiosity about your and Toto's sudden distance. The drivers, having witnessed your outburst at dinner, were more cautious with their comments but couldn't help but wonder what was happening.

Max approached Toto, his expression one of concern. "Toto, what's going on with you and (Y/N)? You two were inseparable, and now she's avoiding you."

Toto sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I wish I knew, Max. I've tried talking to her, but she's been avoiding me."

Charles nodded in agreement. "It's obvious she's upset. Maybe you should give her some space."

Lewis, always perceptive, added, "Or maybe you should be more persistent. She's probably just overwhelmed."

Toto took their advice to heart. After the event, he made his way to the Red Bull hospitality area, determined to find you. As he walked through the bustling area, he spotted you in a corner, talking quietly with Alex.

Gathering his courage, he approached. "(Y/N), can we talk?"

You looked up, surprise and a hint of fear in your eyes. "Toto, I..."

"Please," he interrupted, his voice soft but firm. "I need to understand what's going on."

Alex gave you an encouraging nod, and you reluctantly stood, following Toto to a quieter area.

Once alone, Toto turned to face you. "Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something to upset you?"

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "It's not you, Toto. It's everything else. The rumors, the teasing... it's too much. I thought if I distanced myself, it would stop."

Toto's expression softened as he took your hands in his. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I never wanted you to feel this way. But running away won't solve anything. We need to face this together."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination there. "Toto, I'm scared."

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his voice a comforting whisper. “It’s going to be okay.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Okay, Toto.”

On the evening before the race, there was a team dinner at a local restaurant. You found yourself seated next to Toto, the conversation flowing easily between you. At one point, the drivers started their usual teasing.

"So, Toto," Charles began with a grin, "any plans to make (Y/N) an official part of the Mercedes family?"

Toto smiled, trying to stay composed. "You all enjoy this too much, don't you?"

Max leaned in, his expression serious but kind. "We're just looking out for you, Toto. And for (Y/N)."

You tried to laugh it off, but the constant teasing was getting to you. "Can we please talk about something else?"

Lewis, sensing your frustration, tried to change the subject. "Alright, alright. Let's focus on the race tomorrow."

But George, not noticing your irritation, continued. "Come on, (Y/N), when are you going to admit you have a crush on our boss?"

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "It's really not like that."

Lando chuckled, nudging Max. "Yeah, right. We've all seen the way you two look at each other."

Pierre Gasly joined in, smirking. "So, Toto, does this mean (Y/N) gets special privileges? More than just ribbons in your hair?"

The drivers laughed, but you could feel your patience wearing thin. "Guys, seriously, can we drop it?"

Alex tried to step in, noticing your growing frustration. "Alright, enough. Let's give (Y/N) a break."

But the teasing continued, with Daniel Ricciardo grinning widely. "Come on, (Y/N), you have to admit, you and Toto would make a great couple."

That was the last straw. You stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. "You know what? I've had enough of this."

The entire table fell silent as you stormed out of the restaurant, the door slamming behind you. The drivers sat in stunned silence, not used to seeing you anything but cheerful.

Toto's face hardened, and he glared at the drivers. "Nice going, everyone," Toto said, his voice low and angry. "You just had to push her, didn't you?"

The drivers looked genuinely remorseful, but Toto didn't wait for their apologies. He stood up and followed you outside.

He found you sitting on a bench, staring out into the night. He approached quietly, sitting down next to you.

"(Y/N)," Toto began softly, "I'm sorry about them. They didn't mean to upset you."

You sighed, wiping away a tear. "It's not just tonight, Toto. It's all the time. The teasing, the rumors... it's too much."

Toto took a deep breath, his heart aching at seeing you so upset. "I know, and I should have stopped it sooner. But there's something I need to tell you."

You turned to look at him, your eyes searching his. "What is it, Toto?"

He reached out, gently taking your hand. "These past months have been incredible because of you. Our friendship means everything to me, but I can't deny my feelings any longer. I care about you, deeply. And I want to be more than just friends."

Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and fear. "Toto, I... I feel the same way. But I'm scared. What if things don't work out?"

Toto squeezed your hand, his gaze steady. "We'll take it one step at a time. Together. I don't want to miss out on what could be something amazing because of fear."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the honesty and hope there. "Okay, Toto. Let's give it a try."

The news of your budding relationship spread quickly through the paddock, and the reactions were mixed. The drivers were thrilled, often teasing Toto but in a supportive way.

"Lewis, don't you dare say a word," Toto warned with a grin as Lewis walked into the garage.

"Hey, I didn't say anything," Lewis laughed. "But we're all happy for you two."

George and Lando continued their playful ribbing. "Does this mean we can start asking (Y/N) for dating advice?" George quipped.

"Or maybe Toto can give us tips on how to win her over," Lando added, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

Stefano Domenicali, on the other hand, approached you with a warm smile. "Congratulations, (Y/N). You and Toto make a great pair."

Christian Horner, ever the rival, couldn't resist a jab. "Toto, you've got a great strategist there. Make sure she doesn't outshine you on the pit wall."

But the most heartfelt reaction came from Alex. After a race weekend where you and Toto's relationship had become public, he pulled you aside.

"Are you happy?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, a genuine smile on your face. "I am, Alex. Thank you for pushing me to take the leap."

He hugged you tightly. "That's all I wanted to hear. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I know Toto will do everything to make sure you have it."

One day, during a particularly tense race, Toto found himself stressed in the garage. You noticed and decided to lighten the mood. Walking over, you pulled out a familiar box of ribbons.

"Toto," you said, a playful glint in your eye, "how about some good luck charms?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Only for you, (Y/N)."

As you tied the ribbons into his hair, the drivers watched with amusement.

"Hey, Toto," Charles called out, "does this mean we can start a new trend?"

"Don't push your luck," Toto replied, but his smile was undeniable.

[sorchathered]

You’re still the one💙

Pairing- Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- language, a little bit smutty, angst with lots of pining and longing.

Summary- Bob’s come back to his small town in Georgia for his best friends wedding, will their plan to bring him back together with his high school sweetheart work out? Or will it end in more heartache?

When Bob had gotten the wedding invite in the mail he’d been so thrilled, truly. His best friend Sam had done the impossible, made the long distance work through college and grad school and now finally he was marrying his high school sweetheart Millie. He was happy for them, really he was. The only thing that could’ve been better is if he was sharing this with you. This was supposed to be the two of you, conquering your goals and then winding up together, but it hadn’t worked out the way either of you planned and it had been longer than Bob knew since he’d seen your face.

Millie had asked if your old band from high school would reunite for the wedding music and you’d been over the moon, a few of you had continued to play together and occasionally doing a gig or two just for old times sake, knowing that she wanted you involved in her special day made your heart swell.

The closer the date got the more dread seemed to settle in your bones, you’d stalked Bob’s socials and sneakily asked if he was bringing a date, but the look Sam had given you when he said Bob was coming alone let you know he knew exactly what you were hoping. Maybe he didn’t have someone waiting for him in California, maybe he had even asked about you, and for the first time in almost 6 years you let yourself hope.

In his lonely little apartment in Coronado Robert Floyd was doing about as well as you. He’d thought of nothing but you since that invitation showed up in his mail, hell that was a lie; he spent most nights thinking of you if he was truly honest with himself. He was sure Sam and Millie were already plotting some elaborate scheme to push the two of you together over the wedding celebration and he had to laugh at their dedication. He still wasn’t sure how things had gotten so screwed up. Long distance had been hard, deployments, work schedules and midterms seemed to keep the two of you from ever being able to make concrete plans and eventually it felt like you two had just grown apart too much for repair.

He should’ve fought harder, any attempts to move on over the years had been a complete disaster because how was he supposed to find someone new when he was still hung up on you? Natasha always loved to pick on him about it, that one day he’d have to move on or would have to have his “rom com moment” as she called it and sweep you back off your feet but Bob figured you’d long forgotten about him by now. If he only knew that you’d been just as hung up as he was, but neither of you had been brave enough to reach out.

The wedding festivities were in full swing this week, Millie had sent you the final list of songs she wanted for the wedding and you had added a few crowd favorites as well. You missed the days of jamming with your friends, being a music teacher was so rewarding and it had been everything you’d dreamed it would be, but you couldn’t deny that you were looking forward to getting to let loose with old friends.

You were in full nostalgia mode by the time the weekend of the wedding, thinking of all the things you’d had planned for yourself way back when. You’d had your whole wedding planned out, you knew it had been silly but you’d dreamed of a party with all your friends and at the center of it the boy you’d loved since you were a little girl. Deep in the recesses of your parents attic was a hot pink sparkly notebook from senior year with a list of songs you wanted for your own wedding day, gel pen rainbow font with little cursive scribbles of Mrs. Robert Floyd and hearts doodled all over the page. But that had been another lifetime ago, and just the thought of how much time had changed you both brought tears to your eyes.

Bob was so glad to be back home, it had been ages, his mother was already fussing about how he needed to eat more and catching him up on all the town gossip. He wanted to ask about you, but she beat him to the punch; gushing about the musical the middle school was putting on and how hard you were working to make it a success. It looked like all your dreams had come true, you were doing what you loved, but his mama could see the far off look in his eyes as she spoke, she knew all too well what he was feeling.

“You should call her you know, I have her number if you want it.” She’d said softly as she touched his hand but he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Oh Mama, too much time has passed, I’m sure she’s got someone who could treat her way better than me.” She patted his hand lovingly and shook her head, “Sweet boy, there were never two people better suited for one another than the two of you. I don’t think she ever moved on, I know you didn’t. You know…she lives in the old Macon house on Water Road, not too far if you wanted to take a walk.”

“Mama! “ he said harshly but his features didn’t match his tone at all, he was trying his best not to laugh at her persistence.

She put her hands up and laughed, “I’m just saying, the night air might do you some good. After all life is too short sweetheart.” He thought of his father, taken from them too soon and how his mother had never found anyone else. He’s been her everything, Bob had always thought that would be the same with the two of you.

She heads up for the evening and he’s left alone with his thoughts again. Her house isn’t that far, maybe 5 minutes, and it’s only 8 pm on a Friday she would probably still be awake…

Before he can really mull it over he’s slipping on his shoes and heading out the door, feet carrying him down the sidewalks and past the quaint antebellum style houses illuminated in the orange glow of the street lights until he finds himself at your door. He’s warring with himself about knocking, what the hell was he doing? He’d barely spoken to you in almost 6 years, this was stupid he should’ve never done this. As he turns away to walk down the porch steps he hears the lock click and turning of the door handle, light illuminating the porch as you poke your head out into the night.

“Robby? Is that you?” You say quietly, a small smile on your lips as you look him over with eager eyes. Time had been good to you, he’d always thought you were the most beautiful girl on earth and that certainly hadn’t changed. You weren’t a young girl anymore, your figure was all curves, he couldn’t help but tighten his fists thinking about running his hands over your voluptuous body. Snap out of it Floyd, get your shit together, he thought as you looked at him with confusion evident on your face.

“Well? You gonna come in? Your mama told me you were coming by, I’ve just been sitting by the window listening out for you.” You said as you opened the door a little wider for him to step through. “Of course she did” he muttered, shaking his head with a dark chuckle, leave it to Susan Floyd to take things into her own hands.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he continued to stand awkwardly in the doorway, “I can’t really read your faces anymore Floyd, do you want to come in or are we gonna let all the bugs into my house tonight?” Hands on your hips, sassy remark, yep you were still every bit the spitfire he remembered, that take no shit attitude clearly hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Yeah, yeah y/n I was coming by, sorry I just…I had an idea in my head of what I was gonna say and now here I am and I’ve got nothing.” He said sheepishly as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. You reached for the hand at his side and pulled him through the doorway, closing the door and scooting him in the direction of the couch. Bossy. As always.

“How about I get you a glass of sweet tea and we get all the awkward small talk out of the way, or we could just skip it if you want? I’ve been keeping up with your life through your mom but if you’ve got questions I’m happy to answer them.” You said as you shuffled down the hall to the little kitchen, Bob plopping himself down on your ridiculously comfy velvet couch. “You keep up with me?” He said in shock, he never would’ve thought you’d give him a second thought after he let everything crash and burn, maybe his mama had been right to push him this way.

“Of course I do, it’s not every day you get to be in the top 1% in your field, especially with a job like yours. I’ve always cheered you on, just didn’t think you’d ever show up here, kinda figured you’d forgotten all about me.” You said as you placed down a Mason jar of sweet tea and a tin of shortbread cookies, you’d said it so nonchalantly but he could see in your eyes the hurt was still there.

“I’ve kept up with you too, I- uh I’ve looked at your instagram, and Millie of course updates me when I ask, even if she is still pissed at me about how things ended. You uh- you look like you got everything you wanted in your career too. Mama said the school play is gonna be a big success. I know you’ve gotta be thrilled.”

You nodded, just bringing up your students brought the light back into your eyes. “They are the best, I thought it’d be weird teaching at our old school but truly it is such a joy. These kids love music, it’s so much fun watching them show off their creativity. And as for Millie…Well I’m pretty sure she and Sam have some elaborate plan to “accidentally” trap us in a closet together tomorrow until we work everything out. They’ve been oddly sneaky lately.” You laugh out, and Bob can’t help but join in, they definitely weren’t subtle but you could both agree they were damn good friends.

You both laughed and talked for hours, going through the whole tin of cookies as you caught up on each other’s lives, somewhere in the early morning hours you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder and Bob felt his heart stutter in his chest as he looked down at you. He’d missed this, just being with you.

You had been his favorite person for his entire childhood, how did he let things get so out of hand? It couldn’t be comfortable being propped up like that, so Bob carefully pulled you into his arms and carried you to your room. It was nearly 4 am, he would just crash on your couch like a gentleman should and make an excuse to bail when he woke up. Laying you on the bed he made to step away but you curled your fist into his shirt, murmuring “stay with me” as you pulled him closer, and how could he possibly tell you no? He toed off his shoes and slid in next to you, falling asleep to the sounds of your breathing and warm body pressed to his.

He couldn’t place where he was when he woke up, just that it smelled like coffee and pancakes and somehow he’d slept in. Upon opening his eyes it all came back to him, how you’d asked him to stay and he’d fallen asleep in your arms, he felt hot all over just thinking about it, anxiety filling his chest as he worried about how to navigate the sure to be awkward morning after conversation. Again he wondered how they’d gotten so far from where they’d begun; but one thing hadn’t changed, holding you had simply brought it all back. The feelings he had never wavered, and he was fairly sure he was even more smitten with you now after catching up than he had been before.

You were dancing around in the kitchen as you cooked, spatula acting as a microphone while Fleetwood Mac played from your phone. Clad in a tattered t-shirt and pajama shorts from the night before with your hair messily piled on your head. There was that feeling again, the heat blooming in his chest and the butterflies he’d never felt for anyone but you. It nearly knocked the wind out of him. You couldn’t be more beautiful to him than you were in this moment, he wished he could burn it into his brain forever.

You spun around to the beat but jumped almost a foot in the air when you noticed him, clutching your chest as giggles erupted from you both. “Oh! Oh my god Robby you scared the hell out of me! Did’ya sleep ok? Want breakfast?” You said gesturing behind you to the steaming pile of pancakes and bacon, he wanted breakfast for sure but he knew one thing he wanted more than that.

He crowded you up against the stove, leaning behind you to cut the burner off as he looked down at you with a small smile. “Breakfast sounds good, sweet girl, but we need to talk first.”

“Uh huh” you said and he could tell he had the same dizzying effect on you, that was good, he was hoping this wasn’t one sided.

“I had more fun with you last night than I’ve had in years, and I can’t think of why we ever stopped doing this in the first place. Well a reason that actually counts anyways. I know it’s sudden, hell you probably have a line out the door hoping for a date but-“

“Yes!” You blurted out, nodding your head as you abandoned the spatula and gripped the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours.

You’d meant it to be sweet, just a peck to let him know you wanted the same things he did, but it had been so long, and no one had ever made you feel like he did. It got heated fast, muscular arms wrapped around your waist pulling you in so tight that nothing to get between you, hands in his hair as his kisses became more urgent, opening his mouth to you as you moaned softly into his, and the noise seemed to flip a switch as he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you back down the hall to your bedroom.

It was as sweet and smooth as molasses, he unwrapped you like a present as you tugged at his clothes, you wanted him as bare as you were. He eagerly obliged, tossing his shirt and jeans somewhere across your room as he climbed back into bed and pressed you into the mattress.

“Y/n I-“

“I know baby, I feel it too. Make love to me Robby.”

And so he did, again and again until the two of you felt boneless, breakfast long forgotten and morning seeping into early afternoon.

You’d fallen asleep in his arms around one, and he knew he’d have to wake you up soon to get ready for the wedding and go home to get his suit. He just wanted to stay wrapped up in this a little longer, as much as he needed this to be real again he also knew there was so much red tape. You lived on the opposite coast from him, your career was thriving and you’d never moved away from home. He couldn’t ask you to pack away your life and move every 3-4 years with him. Distance had been what broke you apart last time, he didn’t know if he could bear losing you a second time.

When you finally stirred around 2 you popped up in a panic, you were alone in bed and it was clearly later in the day than you had expected it to be. A sick feeling washed over you, had you interpreted everything wrong? Where was he? Did he regret it and bail?

The sound of a door opening broke you from your thoughts, heavy footfalls down the hallway let you know he hadn’t actually left. He caught your watery eyes looking at him from the doorway and rushed forward to cradle you in his arms, swiping at the tears before they could fall.

“What’s going on it that head of yours? You ok?” He said as he rubbed soothing hands against your back.

“It’s stupid, I woke up alone and I thought..” you stopped and then looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought you’d left” you said with a whisper, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Oh. Aw Shit. I mean I did leave, but for just a minute to grab us some lunch and my suit for tonight, I’m sorry baby I should’ve left a note.” He looked a little embarrassed as well, he was very clearly out of practice when it came to having a partner.

“Ugh, we’re a mess aren’t we?” You chuckled out as you buried your head in his neck, he just nodded as he continued to hold you, he still didn’t know what this was but god he didn’t want to lose it.

“We probably need to figure all of this out y/n, I don’t want to pop the bubble but I can’t shut my brain off. I want this, all of it with you. I’m scared I’m gonna ruin it again.” He was grateful that you couldn’t see his face, he didn’t know if he could keep himself from falling apart if you could.

“We’ll do whatever it takes.” You pulled back to cup his cheeks so he was looking in your eyes. “We were young and stupid back then, but we can do this now. I know we can. If I have to pack up and head to California I will, I’m not saying it won’t be hard but it’s worth it.”

He fucked you slow and steady under the hot spray of the shower after that, worshipping every bit of you and definitely making you both late.

The two of you scrambled to get to the venue, making it right on time, Sam giving Bob a knowing look at his disheveled appearance when he burst into the groom's suite. When you stopped into the bridal suite to check on Millie, she made sure to pick on you for the hickey you’d tried to hide under your ear. Clearly the plan had worked, maybe not how they’d thought but the result was what they were after. You’d have to send his Mama flowers on Monday for her meddling, she’d known what was best even when the two of you didn’t.

The ceremony was beautiful, full of tears and love and Bob couldn’t help but let his eyes drift over to you, he already had plans swirling in his head of wedding rings and a future he’d thought was long lost. After you sang for the reception the band took over and Bob twirled you around the dance floor for much of the evening, he would hold these moments close until he could get you back in his arms again. It had been the perfect weekend.

A few months later you both were carrying moving boxes into his little townhouse, a new job all lined up at the local middle school and the entire summer to spend by the beach with your boyfriend. Everything had fallen into place, and if the little ring box in Bob’s back pocket had anything to do with it, he’d soon be calling you Mrs. Floyd.

🏷️ Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @roosterforme @sebsxphia @floydsglasses @sarahsmi13s @bradshawssugarbaby @hangmansgbaby