#realizing how much you have grown and changed is never easy and for some reason my progress

[jamieycomplainey]

getting my wisdom teeth out thursday. send images of the fated. and also texts about the fated. and also-

[jee-bus]

MHA imagines - Love Languages

Aizawa, Shinso, Bakugou, Midoriya, Todoroki - Mha imagines - Their Love Languages - gn reader - sfw - straight fluff

Buy me a coffee!: https://ko-fi.com/lily_offline_23

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Aizawa: Quality Time

Shota Aizawa values his alone time away from his day job, so if you have the good fortune of becoming important to him outside of said day job, he'll value his time with you just as much. 

He'd ask you to move in with him the second you start getting serious, not wanting to "waste time with puppy love nonsense", as he put it. The man was almost 40 years old and didn't really love the idea of not being able to wake up with you every morning. 

You two would fall into an easy rhythm, going about your days as if you'd been with each other forever. Waking up and getting ready for your own separate days together would become a constant that Aizawa realizes he can't live without.

At the end of the day, when you two were unwinding and relaxing for the night, Aizawa would come to learn that he didn't really care what the two of you were doing, so long as you were with each other. 

The best example of that mindset would be your nighttime routine, which had at least twelve steps when the tired man only had one. So he'd sit in the bathroom with you while you washed your face and brushed your teeth, he'd lounge in the bed while you changed and rubbed lotion into your skin, he'd wrap an arm around your midsection and pull you close while you did a bit of reading before going to sleep. 

The two of you might feel the need to talk, but existing with each other in silence was also okay. For Aizawa, it wasn't about a constant need to fill the silence or to constantly have a hand around your waist, it was simply about being comfortable floating in one another's orbits.

Shinso: Physical Touch

Hitoshi Shinso was touch starved. Simple as that, really. He hadn't grown up in a family that so proudly displayed their love for one another the way yours did. 

He was a bit insecure and hesitant when you first started dating, his heart would start going 100 miles a minute at the simple act of holding your hand on the walk to school. But once he got comfortable, well, good luck getting away from him (not that you'd ever want too). 

Clingy. This boy is clingy. 

He's not even ashamed of it either and will always be touching you in some way when you're together, as if he'd die if he wasn't. 

If you're walking then he'll want to hold your hand and if your hands are full for whatever reason he'll drape an arm around your shoulder and if he isn't able to do that then he'll casually slip his hand into your back pocket.

When you're cuddling he'll be wrapped around you like a monkey, legs intertwined with yours, arms wrapped tightly around you, hands wherever he can get away with having them. 

You don't mind, though. It was nice being with someone who wasn't scared to show that he loved you, even if you were a bit insecure at how sweaty your palms would get when he held them for too long. 

Bakugou: Acts of Service

Katsuki Bakugou is the embodiment of the saying, "Actions speak louder than words". 

He's not the best at saying how he actually feels, he is good at showing off how much better he is than everyone else, though. 

Which is exactly the course of action he takes; instead of tripping over his words, he decides to make you see he's the best boyfriend possible.

You find out quickly that, so long as you're dating him, you'll probably never carry your own bag or open any door for yourself again. 

You also quickly realize that there's no use trying to cook your own meals or clean your own dishes, because Bakugou will quickly glare and shoo you away from whatever task you might be doing and do it for you, all whilst rambling about how you don't have to do anything but "sit your ass down and look pretty". 

It is nice, though, knowing that you'll never have to run errands or do chores alone when you're with him. 

On the contrary, you have had to sit the boy down and tell him that, yes, you are able to clean your own room or open your own car door sometimes. 

He tries not to seem upset, but the boy can't help but feel a bit grumpy when you don't let him help you with something. He wants to feel needed, dammit!

Thankfully you know that kissing his cheek and asking him to refill your water bottle will distract him from any sort of annoyed mood. 

Midoriya: Words of Affirmation

Unlike Bakugou, Izuku Midoriya has never once had a problem saying how he feels. Especially if he cares about someone.

And the boy makes sure you know that he cares an awful lot about you.

It's just constant reassurance, non-stop compliments, ideas about how you could improve (not that he doesn't already think you're perfect!), he just loves to sprinkle compliments in whenever he can.

"You look gorgeous today, by the way!" "Izuku, it's the school uniform. I wear this everyday." "I know, you still look beautiful though!" 

And God help you if you return the favor. His face will get so red it looks like he's about to pass out, he'll stutter through whatever he was or was about to say, and he wont be able to make eye contact without his heart racing. 

Will often tell you that your eyes are his favorite color

Will blush and tear up if you tell him the same thing

Overall, the most supportive boyfriend someone could ask for!

Todoroki: Giving Gifts

Shoto Todoroki is emotionally stunted with access to his fathers bank account, you do the math here. 

If you even mention thinking something is cute, he'll rush to buy it before you can argue with him. 

This boy would rather die than let you pay for anything ever. Dates? He's got it. You want to get your nails done? Take his card and let him pick the color. You need a new sweatshirt? Well he's already bought you an entirely new wardrobe. 

This boy asked you out with brand new pure silver bracelet set— that you wear every single day— and the biggest bouquet of roses you'd ever seen. 

Safe to say, he had cash to burn and he was more than willing to set it all ablaze for you. 

It helped that it was also a slight "fuck you" to Endeavor as well.

At one point you had to physically snatch the credit card out of his hand and drag him away from a jewelry store after you offhandedly mentioned that you found the (extremely) expensive emerald necklace pretty. 

He bought you said necklace for your one year anniversary a month later. 

"Shoto… this is too much… it must've cost a small fortune!" "Nothing is too much when it comes to you."

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[wilderwraith]

oh, you kissed me, just to kiss me

fandom: natsume yuujinchou

pairing: tanunatsu

summary: He scrambles to cover the page, slamming the notebook shut in a flurry of papers. “Those don’t mean anything, Sensei!”

“Oh, come on. Any half-witted fool could tell how distracted you’ve been lately, and while I wasn’t entirely sure why until now, it’s obvious. You’ve been thinking about Tanuma.”

word count: 10.8k

Ao3

—

There’s something different about Tanuma, recently. Takashi couldn’t put his finger on it for the longest time, but lately he’s started to realize what it is. 

Tanuma has been undergoing a growth spurt. Once that had dawned on Takashi, he hasn’t been able to stop looking at him. He doesn’t mean to stare—the last thing he wants is to be creepy or weird, especially towards him—but it’s really hard not to look and it’s somewhat easy to do it in a way that no one notices. He stares when Tanuma is talking to him, when they’re walking together and Tanuma is striding ahead of him just a bit, from across the hall at school when Tanuma isn’t paying attention. 

In the past couple of weeks, it’s become so obvious. Tanuma is different. He’s gotten taller. His shoulders have broadened, and even through the school uniform it’s evident that he’s been gaining muscle too. The planes of his face have sharpened just the slightest bit. He looks older.

It’s hardly surprising. They’re halfway through their second year, and Tanuma is going to turn seventeen soon. Everyone is getting taller and looking more grown up. But for some reason, on Tanuma it’s so…stark. Maybe Takashi just thinks about it too much, but he hasn’t noticed it happening to his other friends quite as plainly. 

He pays such close attention to Tanuma. He isn’t sure exactly why. All of his friends are so dear, and he adores them so much, but whenever Tanuma is nearby it’s like there’s a magnet that’s drawing Takashi straight to him. He wants to take every opportunity to study the way his hair falls around his face and how he slouches when he walks and the words he chooses to use when he speaks. It’s always been that way, in retrospect, but for some reason it’s been on his mind much more lately. It might have something to do with how much Tanuma has been changing, or it might not. 

One thing is for sure, though, and that is the fact that the growth spurt is mesmerizing. Takashi doesn’t really know how to feel about it. He definitely feels some specific type of way, but he hasn’t worked out just what it is yet. He doesn’t know the word to describe the feelings that stir in his belly when he looks at Tanuma and has to tilt his head back just a little more than before, or how Tanuma’s smile doesn’t lift his cheeks quite the same way. It’s…different. It’s the same Tanuma he’s always known, but it’s also not. There’s an understated maturity, a subtle sophistication that has maybe always been there but is definitely more pronounced now. 

Takashi doesn’t know if he likes it. Change isn’t usually a good thing. Change means loss and heartache and things becoming unfamiliar when they were once such a comfort. When things stay the same, it means he’s safe and secure. 

Maybe it’s silly to feel frightened by something as normal and inevitable as physical growth. He’s been growing too—he’d just gotten new shoes a few months ago and went up half a size. But then he thinks about the fact that they’re all hurdling headlong into young adulthood and that thought is terrifying. 

Tanuma’s growth spurt has been bringing all those thoughts to mind a little more lately. Still, Takashi wouldn’t say he dislikes the way he’s beginning to look now. The other day, Tanuma had come to collect him from his classroom after school and something about the way he’d opened the door and leaned nonchalantly against the frame made Takashi’s brain spit out the word handsome. 

He’d blinked in surprise at himself. Yes, he supposes that Tanuma is handsome and always has been, but he’d never explicitly thought it before. Is it weird to admire that quality about a friend? Is it weird that, when he’s walking by Tanuma’s side, he wants to reach out a take his hand? Is it weird that he wants to know so badly how Tanuma’s body would feel pressed against his?

It’s probably—definitely weird. He thinks sometimes about what it would be like to sidle up next to him the next time they’re sleeping over at Tanuma’s house, what it would feel like if Tanuma wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

He usually shuts those thoughts down quickly, though, because they feel taboo or something and they always make his stomach churn and his face feel really, really hot.

Takashi has never been a particularly touchy person. Growing up, no one had really ever seemed to want to touch him, and that was okay. On the occasions where people had, it usually…wasn’t a good thing. But he always looked at other families, always saw parents holding their children’s hands or scooping them up into hugs. He saw lovers with their arms twined around each other’s waists. He saw friends high-fiving or hanging off each other in ways that spoke of profound familiarity. He saw all the ways that touch meant affection and love and it took a while but one day he realized that he was aching for it.

Nowadays, the people in his life are far more affectionate than anyone else has ever been. Nishimura, especially, casually touches him in the way he’s always seen friends do with one another. Even if Takashi doesn’t necessarily always want it—it’s hard to get used to, really, when there’s always been an invisible barrier between him and other human beings—he appreciates it for what it is. It makes him feel like a normal person, like maybe he isn’t as different from his peers as he’s always thought. The way Touko and Shigeru pat his head still makes him blush, makes his insides feel warm, even though it’s been over a year since he moved into their house. He hopes he never takes these small acts for granted.

Tanuma is different—in all aspects, he is different. He resides in a different realm from every other person Takashi has ever met. They don’t touch each other very much. It feels like a forbidden thing, like Takashi is only allowed to do it under special circumstances. Not because of anything Tanuma has ever said or done, but because the thought of touching Tanuma is terrifying. Tanuma is…precious, and fragile, and something to be treasured and revered in the way one would put a beautiful ornate plate on display in china cabinet. There to look at and admire and enjoy, but to keep locked away behind glass.

So, usually, they only have contact if Tanuma initiates it first—and he doesn’t very often.

For the longest time, Takashi has been okay with that. More than okay, because being able to call Tanuma his closest friend is a privilege that tops everything else. But in the past few weeks, there’s been a strange itch building. An itch to hold Tanuma’s hand, to press his cheek against his chest, to be close to him. The more he thinks about it, even though he tries his hardest not to, the more he thinks it might definitely be linked to the fact that Tanuma has grown. And that is puzzling in and of itself. Takashi doesn’t understand it, and he understands even less what to do about it.

There’s nothing he really can do. Nothing except stew in frustration and try not to think about it. His efforts don’t seem to be doing much, though.

He groans and lets his head fall onto the textbook sitting open on his desk. He’s been trying to do his homework, but he hasn’t made much progress.

“What are you moaning about now?”

Takashi rolls his head sideways. “Nothing.”

“It’s definitely something. You’ve been staring at that page for an hour now.”

“It’s nothing, Sensei. I just…have a lot on my mind.”

“Hm.” Papers rustle as the cat jumps up on the desk. “Looks to me like it’s just one thing.”

Takashi’s head snaps up. Nyanko-sensei is standing by his notebook, studying the doodles in the margins of his scant notes. He’s horrified to realize that most of them are of Tanuma’s name. He’s always had this habit of doodling absentmindedly when he’s thinking about something and not paying attention to exactly what he was scribbling. He hadn’t noticed just how many times he’d written it, and it brings heat rushing into his cheeks. How humiliating.

He scrambles to cover the page, slamming the notebook shut in a flurry of papers. “Those don’t mean anything, Sensei!”

“Oh, come on. Any half-witted fool could tell how distracted you’ve been lately, and while I wasn’t entirely sure why until now, it’s obvious. You’ve been thinking about Tanuma.” He comes to stand directly in front of Takashi and his eyes narrow in accusation. “Why?”

“It’s none of your business. And it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“I would argue that it actually matters a lot.” Nyanko-sensei lifts a paw and jabs it at Takashi’s forehead. “Like I said, you’re distracted, and that makes you vulnerable. If your head’s not in the game, it’s easier for spirits to attack you, and that makes it my business.” When Takashi bats him away, he sits back and turns his nose up in the air. “Really, you’ve always been obsessed with him—though I’ll never understand why—but this is just getting ridiculous.”

Takashi groans and falls back to lie on the floor, covering his face with his arm. He really doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now, or ever. “I don’t know. I don’t understand it either.”

Nyanko-sensei is silent for so long after that that Takashi removes his arm and lifts his head up to look at him. The lucky cat is sitting stone-still, regarding him with a strange expression.

“What?”

Nyanko-sensei makes a thoughtful noise. “Humans are so stupid, it’s painful to watch sometimes. You, especially.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He sighs. “If you want to see him so badly, why don’t you just go over to his house?”

“I can’t just intrude like that last-minute.” He drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. Now he’s thinking about what would happen if he did go over to Tanuma’s house unannounced. The thought lights a spark of excitement, but he can’t. What would he say? “He’s probably having dinner right now, anyway.”

“All the more reason to go. I’ll come with you.”

“I’m not going to his house, Sensei.”

“You’re hopeless. You’ll never get anything you want if you don’t ask for it, you know.” The cat stands and stretches with a yawn. “Well, if you’re not going to do anything interesting, I’m going out drinking. Bye!”

Before Takashi can get out another word, his sensei hops out the open window and disappears.

Takashi is left with the words ringing in his ears.

—

He thinks long and hard about the conversation in the days following. Has he really been that distracted? Nyanko-sensei is right about one thing—he can’t afford to let his concentration slip. Balancing his time between humans and spirits is getting harder and harder as each world takes up more and more of his thoughts and energy. He thinks he’s been doing a decent job of juggling his responsibilities to each, but maybe his sensei did have a point.

He’s been thinking about Tanuma a lot. When they’re together, he takes all of Takashi’s attention. When they’re not together, Takashi is wishing that they were. Maybe it is becoming a bit of a problem, but it isn’t one that he knows how to solve. Nothing bad has come of it yet and Takashi intends to keep it that way, but what is he supposed to do about it?

He’s sitting by the pond near his house one afternoon. It’s late summer and the fireflies are beginning to wink awake as the sun sinks lower in the sky. Nyanko-sensei is out again—Takashi doesn’t know where he could’ve possibly gotten off to now, but he doesn’t care too much at the moment. A warm breeze rustles the tall grass and carries the scent of wildflowers over the water to him, and he’s glad to be alone. It’s peaceful and quiet, the type of environment he doesn’t get to enjoy very often.

“Oh, hello, Natsume.”

He screws his eyes shut and tries very hard not to groan aloud. One afternoon. He just wants one all to himself.

When he turns, he’s a little surprised to see a familiar michiyuki coat. “Hi, Hinoe.” He doesn’t let his irritation slip into his voice since it’s not really fair.

She sits in the grass beside him and raises her pipe to her lips. “It’s a nice evening, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Her energy is calm and it’s clear she hadn’t been seeking him out, so Takashi relaxes. “What are you doing out here?”

“I just felt like taking a walk, and I remembered the fireflies gather out here so I decided to come and watch for a while.” She exhales a thin stream of smoke. “You?”

“The same, more or less.”

It strikes Takashi, sometimes, how most spirits aren’t all that different from humans. Here they are, at the same place at the same time, for the same purpose. It’s endearing how so many spirits enjoy simple things too, like watching fireflies and admiring flowers.

“Hmm.” She looks out over the water, the breeze blowing her hair back from her face the slightest bit. “I like to come here to think. Being near water is good for reflecting, don’t you agree?”

“I guess it is.”

She looks at him then, a thin eyebrow lifting almost imperceptibly. “Is something on your mind, Natsume?”

He blinks. “What makes you ask that?”

“You have a thoughtful look about you right now. Usually it doesn’t seem like there’s anything going on in your brain, but you look different now.”

He chooses to ignore the insult. “I…guess I have a few things on my mind.”

“Would you care to talk about it?”

“Not really. It’s human stuff. I doubt you’d be interested.” He draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them, picks at a loose thread on his pants. “It’s just… Have you ever cared about something so much it hurt? Like, if you suddenly lost it, you think you’d die? And you want to do everything you can to protect it, even if it means locking it away and never getting to see it anymore, but at the same time… You miss it more than anything in the world. The whole time it’s right next to you, and you still miss it.”

He doesn’t know where the words came from, or why they suddenly spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them, but maybe that’s okay. Hinoe is probably as neutral a party as he could find, and she had asked. Even if she doesn’t understand or care all that much, maybe it’s okay to get this off his chest.

Hinoe gives him a strange look. She tilts her head and studies him for a moment too long before saying, “No.”

Takashi sighs. “Figures.”

“Does this thing that you miss need so much protecting?”

“Yes,” he answers without thinking. “Well—yes. He wouldn’t need it so much if I wasn’t around. And maybe it’s selfish of me, but I—I can’t not be around him.”

Hinoe starts laughing then. It starts as a chuckle and escalates until she’s doubled over and wiping tears from her eyes.

Takashi is taken aback. He has no idea what she could possibly be laughing at. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, you really are dim sometimes.” The laughing tapers off and she fixes him with an amused smile. “You could have just said you’re in love.”

Takashi goes rigid. The words strike him like lightning. In love?

He’s not—he’s not in love.

Being in love is when a boy and a girl go on dates to the movies and hold hands and get married. Being in love is when Nishimura won’t stop moaning about a girl who will never return his affections. It’s when Touko and Shigeru sit together on the porch and Touko lays her head on Shigeru’s shoulder and he puts a hand on her back, and…and they share a chaste kiss when they think Takashi isn’t looking…

Suddenly it feels like his face is on fire.

He can’t be in love with Tanuma. Tanuma is his precious friend. He’s a boy. That’s… That’s impossible.

But then he thinks about Tanuma’s gentle smile, his long fingers and his dark eyes when they look into Takashi’s. He thinks about how being with Tanuma makes him indescribably happy in a way he’s never experienced with anyone else. Being with him… It’s the best thing in the world. He never wants to be anywhere else.

For a moment, he allows himself to imagine the two of them like Touko and Shigeru. He pictures himself older, in a house, cooking dinner while waiting for Tanuma to get home from work. In his mind, they eat a quiet dinner and play shogi as the sun sets through the open sliding door. They walk to town to go shopping together, hand in hand, and have matching umbrellas by the front door. They kiss, soft and sweet, as often as they like.

Takashi can almost taste his own heartbeat.

“Did you…” Hinoe’s voice pulls him from the fantasy. “Did you not know that you’re in love?”

“I’m not.” He mutters it under his breath, feeling like he’s in some sort of trance.

“Please.” Hinoe takes another drag from her pipe. “I’d know that look anywhere. I see it on humans all the time.”

He’s reeling. He doesn’t know the first thing about being in love. Is that really what this is? “I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know what it’s like.”

“I suppose I couldn’t really tell you what it’s like, but you are most certainly in love, Natsume.”

Something occurs to him suddenly. “You were in love with Reiko, weren’t you?”

Hinoe waves a hand dismissively. “Spirits being in love is different.”

That doesn’t sound quite right. He’s met plenty of spirits who were in love before, and while every story was unique, most of them loved so deeply they were willing to go to the ends of the earth for the ones they cared about.

“I was in love with her.” A wistful look comes over her as she gazes out over the water. Her hair covers her face so that Takashi can only see her nose and mouth. “But it’s foolish to fall in love with humans, so I didn’t entertain it.”

Something squeezes Takashi’s chest. “I…think I can relate, in a way.”

“What are you talking about, boy?” She sounds exasperated now. “You’re in love with another human. You get to experience growing old together, living a human life. Don’t dismiss that privilege.”

A faint pang of guilt hits him and he curls in on himself a little more.

“You say you want to protect him by staying away from him, but that’s the stupidest thing you could do. If you love him, stay by his side. You can protect him best from there.”

Takashi pulls in a sharp breath. “He—he doesn’t even know how I feel.”

“Why the hell not?”

He blushes again and scowls. “It’s not something you can just talk about! It’s… It’s complicated. He might not feel the same way, and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“I’ll never understand humans,” Hinoe deadpans. “How is he supposed to know how much you treasure him if you don’t tell him? Unless you want to take it to your grave.”

Does he? Does he really want to keep these feelings to himself and never have Tanuma know just how much he cares about him? That thought makes him feel a little ill. But, so does confessing to him.

Confessing.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I want.”

 “Well,” she says, standing slowly and reaching a hand down to him, which he takes. “Don’t take too long to figure it out. You’ll only regret it if you do.”

Takashi stands and brushes off his pants. The sun is almost down, and darkness is enveloping the forest. He smiles. “Thank you, Hinoe. I didn’t know you were so good at giving advice.”

She scoffs. “Why are you so surprised? I’ve been around a long time.”

“Well, thank you, anyway. I’ll see you around.” He turns in the direction of his house and starts to walk off before she calls after him.

“Natsume?”

He pauses and looks back over his shoulder.

Hinoe smiles in a gentle way he’s not sure he’s ever seen from her before. “Whoever this boy is who’s the target of your affection, he’s lucky. And he must be very special, to be loved by you.”

Takashi blinks rapidly. His vision blurs and his nose smarts, but he ignores it. “Thank you, Hinoe.”

—

Takashi taps his pencil against his textbook. He can’t stop fidgeting lately.

“Natsume.”

He lifts his head off his fist and looks at Taki questioningly.

She smiles softly, a look that’s almost akin to sympathy in her eyes. “Is something wrong? You seem…distracted.”

It’s getting a little annoying how often he’s been told that in the past week. He had asked to come over to study together, but once again, he hasn’t done much studying. It’s not really the main purpose of his visit. They’ve been at it for nearly an hour, and the majority of that time has been spent trying to work up his nerve to broach the real reason he wanted to come.

It’s stupid how embarrassed he is to talk about it. The conversation with Hinoe had simultaneously cleared some things up and raised a whole slew of new questions that he has to work through now. So he’d come to Taki’s house to see if she could help, but he didn’t plan on just how hard it would be to bring it up to her.

“I, um.” He looks down at his book and feels his face warm up. “I was actually wondering if I could talk to you about something.”

He can feel the energy shift in the room. Taki stiffens and the curiosity that immediately emanates from her is almost palpable. “Of course you can.”

Takashi bites the inside of his cheek and fishes for the words. When he comes up empty, his blush deepens. He closes his textbook and slides it aside, fingers tightening round his pencil.

Taki waits patiently for a few moments before asking, “Is it about spirits? Is everything okay?”

The concern in her voice makes Takashi feel guilty. “No, no. Everything is fine. It isn’t about that.”

“Oh.” She sighs. “That’s a relief. Um… What is it, then?”

He closes his eyes, pulls in a breath, and forces the words out in a rush. “I think I’m in love with Tanuma.”

Silence stretches between them. Takashi can’t bring himself to look at her. He doesn’t know what he’s so afraid of, but this revelation is so new and jarring that he wouldn’t be able to stand it if she reacted with judgment—not that he thinks she would. But if she were to react badly, how would Tanuma react, if Takashi ever confessed? The three of them are so close. If he was ever to act on his feelings, he would need Taki’s support.

Taki makes a small gasp and Takashi finally looks up.

She’s covering her mouth with both hands and her eyes are shining. The expression looks oddly similar to the one she wears when Nyanko-sensei comes around. “Oh, Natsume, that’s—that’s wonderful. That’s the best news!”

“It…is?” His heart is warm, and the relief that floods him makes him sag against the floor. He didn’t expect her to be so happy about it. “Is it—I mean, that’s not weird, right? I’ve never been in love with anyone before, so I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do, or how I’m supposed to feel, and I don’t want anything to be weird.”

“It’s not weird.” She drops her hands and scoots toward him on her knees. “It’s not weird at all, Natsume. Are you… Are you sure you’re in love with him, or do you just think you are?”

He tilts his head in confusion. It’s a fair question, he supposes, but another unexpected reaction. “I…I’m sure. Or at least, as sure as I can be. Like I said, I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to feel a certain way.” She looks off above his head in thought. “I’ve never been in love before either, but from what I’ve heard people say, when you are you just know.” Her eyes snap back to him, an eagerness burning brightly in them. “How do you feel about him?”

“Uh.” He sits up straight, his heart hammering lightly in his chest. He’s never spoken aloud about how he feels about Tanuma and it makes him blush again. “He—I think he’s the best person in the world. He makes me happy.” A small smile tugs at his mouth and he doesn’t try to hide it. “I want to be around him all the time. He’s so…thoughtful. And kind. He listens so well and thinks deeply about whatever you tell him, and he cares so much that I worry for him sometimes. He makes me feel calm and…and safe.”

The words flow out of his mouth like a stream of consciousness and before he knows it, he’s voiced something he’s never thought before. Tanuma makes him feel safe. For all the worrying Takashi does about his well-being, for all the sleepless nights he’s spent trying to figure out the best way to protect him, Tanuma still makes him feel safe. Not that he could necessarily hold his own against spirits, but in the sense that, when Takashi is with him, it feels like everything is going to be okay. He hasn’t always felt that way, but they’ve come a long way since Omibashira. Tanuma is his rock, steadfast and constant.

When Takashi has this thought, he knows for sure. “I love him.”

Taki makes a strangled, squealing noise. Takashi barely has time to brace himself before she launches forward and locks her arms around his neck. “I’m so happy for you both!”

He laughs and places his hands lightly on her back. “I haven’t even told him yet, Taki. I have no idea if he feels the same way.”

“Of course he does!” She pulls back, looking more elated than he’s ever seen her. Almost immediately, though, her expression goes slack and her eyes widen and her entire face reddens to the shade of a tomato. “I mean—o-of course, I’m sure he does! Anyone can see how much he cares about you!” She laughs nervously and scratches the back of her head.

Takashi’s brow furrows. Taki has always been the most obvious liar he’s ever met, but he has no idea what she could be blushing about. “That’s not the same thing as being in love, though. I—I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“I don’t think you will!” She leans forward, her eyes practically sparkling. “You should tell him, Natsume! Immediately! Like today!”

Now Takashi is the one who laughs nervously and backs away a little. “Today? I think that might be a little hasty… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Tell him you love him, obviously!” She sits back on her knees and sighs. “You are both so frustrating, I swear. You’d be going around in circles forever if it weren’t for me.”

“Taki.” It’s clear now that something is going on. Takashi doesn’t know what it is, but he shouldn’t have to dig too hard to find out. “What’s up? Is there something you know that I don’t?”

“What? No!” She waves her hand. “I just…think it’s obvious that you both love each other, and I think you should talk about it, that’s all.”

Takashi folds his arms over his chest. “Taki…”

She lets out a groan and pounds a fist into her forehead. “I promised him I wouldn’t say anything! Ugh, fine.” She looks at Takashi again. “But don’t tell him I told you.”

He feels a bit nervous. “Told me what?”

“Tanuma has been in love with you for, like, the past year, Natsume.”

His breath catches in his throat. Whatever he’d been expecting to hear, that had certainly not been it. But that can’t be right. Tanuma has never given any indication of being in love with anyone, much less him. Surely Takashi would’ve had some clue about it, right? Taki must be mistaken.

“What? No, he hasn’t.”

“Yes, he has. He told me last November.”

November…? It’s September now. There’s just no way that can be true. “Wh… Why wouldn’t he say something to me?”

“Why do you think?” She gives him a look that he’s gotten too often lately, also. Like he’s missing something that’s obvious to everyone but him. “He thought it was one-sided. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship either, you know. You’re both too similar sometimes.”

He reaches up to touch his fingertips to his cheek, can feel the heat coming off of it. His heart is pounding and there’s a fluttering in his stomach. “Is that right?”

“That’s why you need to tell him. He’s been pining for ages.”

“Pining?” Images of Nishimura bemoaning an unrequited crush come to mind again. Not that Tanuma would be vocal about it, but it’s…extremely strange to think of anyone pining for him. Especially Tanuma. He’s never been the object of anyone’s desires, romantic or otherwise. Or at least, that’s what he’d always thought.

“Don’t tell him I told you!” Taki repeats.

“I won’t.” His mind is spinning. Tanuma has been in love with him this whole time… Every time they’ve hung out, every time they’ve gotten dragged into spirit business, every time they’ve taken shelter from rain or snow in that little bus stop, was Tanuma itching to tell him? Was he filled with thoughts of taking Takashi’s hand or holding him close, the way Takashi has been fantasizing about?

Takashi suddenly realizes how stupid he really is. Tanuma has been in love with him for a year, and he only just came to terms with his own feelings. If he’d paid better attention, maybe they could have—

“Natsume? Are you still there?”

He blinks out of his daze. “Yes. Sorry, Taki.”

She smiles softly. “So, you’re going to talk to him, right?”

“Um, yes. Yes, I’ll talk to him.” Even with this new revelation, his stomach still turns nauseatingly at the thought.

“Good.” Her smile broadens excitedly and she takes his hands. “You’re going to be such a cute couple! I’m jealous; I hope I find someone I care about that much someday.”

“I’m sure you will.” Takashi returns her smile, though it feels weak.

Her brows draw together. “Is something wrong? I thought you’d be more excited.”

“I am.” He stares at a knot in the wooden floorboards and feels his own insides tying themselves into knots. “I—I’m so nervous, though. I’ve never done anything like this before, and Tanuma is so…”

“Handsome?”

“He’s beautiful.” Takashi groans and lowers his forehead onto the table. “What if he’s been waiting too long and changed his mind?”

“Natsume, I can tell you with the utmost certainty that he hasn’t.”

He turns his head to look at her with one eye. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She reaches out to pat his shoulder. “But you need to talk to him soon. Just trust me.”

“Okay.” Slowly, he sits back up. “What should I say?”

The look Taki gives him then is full of the long-suffering patience of a saint. “Just be honest. Tell him how you feel about him. I’m sure you’ll both be able to work it out from there.”

And that’s just great, isn’t it? Being honest and talking about his feelings are probably the two things he’s the worst at in the whole world. He and Tanuma have come close to fighting before because Takashi finds those things so difficult to do.

Before his thoughts begin to spiral too much, he shakes his head. If doing difficult things is what he needs to do for Tanuma, he’ll do them. He’ll practice and he’ll get better and he’ll become good at them if it means he can be by Tanuma’s side. If it means cooking dinner for him and sleeping beside him every night and having matching umbrellas waiting by their front door, he’ll do anything.

He’ll do anything for Tanuma.

Suddenly, the need to see him is so urgent that he’s stuffing his school books and papers into his bag before he can register what it is exactly that he plans to do.

“Natsume?” Taki says.

“Thank you, Taki.” He stands to his full height and looks into her eyes, hoping that he can convey the depths of just how much she’s done for him with one conversation. “Thank you so much. I…I really owe you one.”

And Taki, gods bless her, seems to understand immediately. She gives a determined nod. “Go get your boy, Natsume.”

That’s exactly what he plans to do.

—

He’s panting for breath by the time he makes it to Tanuma’s front door. It’s almost dark, but he doesn’t even really notice as he presses the doorbell. “Hello? Sorry for the intrusion!”

For a moment, he’s afraid that no one is home. He hears no activity from within the house, no footsteps approaching the door.

His immediate reaction is to panic. What if something’s happened? What if Tanuma’s dad is out of town and he’s all alone and a malignant spirit came to his house again? It wouldn’t be the first time. It would be far from the first time Tanuma intentionally kept something important from him. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if something happened and he wasn’t here, if Tanuma was facing something dangerous on his own, right after he’d realized—

The door opens. The door opens and Tanuma is standing there, his tall frame blocking the light from inside. He’s wearing an apron and his hands are dripping with soapy water.

Takashi could almost laugh at himself. He’s really got to stop worrying so much.

“Natsume?”

His voice is the best thing Takashi has ever heard in his entire life. It feels like ages since he’s heard it, even though he’d seen Tanuma just that afternoon before they left school. It’s deep and a little raspy and Takashi wants to listen to it say his name again and again and again.

“Is everything okay?” Tanuma sounds alarmed. He steps out of the doorway a little and lifts a hand towards Takashi before realizing it’s still wet with dishwater. He wipes it on his apron. “You look really pale. What are you doing here so late? Are you alright?”

Takashi’s mouth opens and closes like a caught fish. He’d been so confident on his way here, but now that Tanuma is right in front of him, it’s like every thought in his brain had decided to scatter and disappear. There’s just—nothing.

“You’re scaring me, Natsume.” Tanuma’s brow is furrowed in worry. He’s regarding Takashi like he’s some wild animal, cautious and hesitant. “What’s going on?”

Finally, Takashi is able to draw in a breath and get some control over himself. He grips the strap of his school bag and backs up a couple of steps. “Sorry, Tanuma. Everything is fine. I just…”

Every fiber of his being is suddenly screaming that this is a bad idea. Tanuma is going to think he’s crazy. It doesn’t matter what Taki told him, because now that Tanuma is right in front of him, there doesn’t seem to be any way he could possibly go through with this. Not when he’s so real and tangible and Takashi can smell the scent of the temple incense that always clings to him like an aura.

But then Tanuma reaches out and grabs the fabric of his sleeve. “Wait. Let me get cleaned up and then we can talk, okay? Um—come inside and wait for just one minute.”

Despite everything, Takashi finds himself nodding. He enters the house and toes off his shoes, hangs his bag by the door like he’s done countless times before.

His heart is in his throat, lodged so tightly he can’t swallow past it. He hugs his own arms to his chest like a child. Why is he so scared? There’s nothing to be scared of. He’s safe—he’s at Tanuma’s house and Tanuma is just a room over and he’ll be back in a minute. There’s no reason to be scared around Tanuma.

But, deep down, he knows Tanuma isn’t really the reason he’s scared at all.

He’s scared of the fact that everything is about to change.

Even if he doesn’t say what he came here to say, their relationship is never going to be the same. The very fabric of their bond is different, even if Takashi is the only one who knows it. And he doesn’t—he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that. His and Tanuma’s friendship has been constant and unwavering for over a year. Takashi has always been able to count on it. There’s a quiet comfort in the way that he knows Tanuma will bump his fist in the hallway, or how they sometimes cross paths in the woods. Calm afternoons playing shogi, watching shadows of koi fish on the ceiling, drinking barley tea and lamenting about tests they didn’t study for.

He’s about to risk all of that. That could all be gone just because Takashi decided to utter three small words. Even if the change is good, it’s still change. It’s frightening how, now that he has a life he loves, he wants things to stay the same so badly that he’s having such reservations about telling his favorite person that he loves him. If there’s one thing he knows about life, it’s that it always changes, and somehow that doesn’t seem fair. He isn’t ready to let go of any of it.

But…

Tanuma has been in love with him this whole time, though. He wonders if it’s safe to assume that his friend has been dealing with the same feelings that Takashi is now, for much longer. Maybe the nature of their relationship has always been this way, even if he was unaware of it. Is it possible…things won’t actually be that different?

He ponders, for a moment, a future where he doesn’t confess to Tanuma at all. Where he keeps stewing in these feelings, too afraid to act on them. Where, every time he looks at Tanuma, he thinks about those same feelings being bottled up in him, too. That doesn’t seem fair either.

“He’s been pining for ages.”

No, Takashi has to tell him. Tanuma deserves to know. He’s always kept things to himself in order to protect the people he cares about—or at least, that’s what he always thought he was doing. And, of course, there are some things he really can’t talk about with those closest to him. But other things… Maybe keeping other things to himself is selfish. Maybe keeping this from Tanuma would only be to protect himself.

“You’ll never get anything you want if you don’t ask for it, you know.”

Takashi brings up his hands and slaps them to his cheeks. He has to do this.

“Natsume.”

Tanuma stands in the hallway. The apron is gone and Takashi sees that he’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt and shorts and for some reason it makes his stomach flip. It’s a much more casual outfit than he usually sees him wearing.

“Do you want to go to my room?” he asks.

Takashi nods. He follows Tanuma down the hall and drinks in the sight of his lanky form, his sauntering gate, and notices again how tall he is now. That sweatshirt would dwarf Takashi if he was to put it on.

His heart thuds in his chest when they near the bedroom. Tanuma closes the door and goes to sit on the bed.

Takashi just stands there and feels kind of lost.

“Are you gonna sit down?” Tanuma smiles uncertainly and pats the spot on the bed next to him.

Stiffly, Takashi sits, hands fisting on the fabric over his thighs. He makes sure to keep a respectable distance between them.

“So… What’s up? You’re making me a little nervous.” He laughs half-heartedly. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

Takashi swallows past the lump in his throat. God, he wishes it wasn’t so hard just to talk. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I promise. I just—I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tanuma pale the slightest bit. “Is it about spirit stuff?”

“No.” It’s kind of sad how his friends just assume that now whenever they think something is wrong. Not that they don’t have reason to, but it highlights just how much of an impact his ability has on them. And on him. “It…actually has nothing to do with that, for once.”

Tanuma calms with a soft sigh and nudges Takashi’s knee with his own. “Then…?”

Here it goes. Takashi feels a little sick to his stomach. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. “Tanuma, I… I’ve been thinking really hard about something for a while now, and I decided I needed to tell you. I don’t want it to change anything if you don’t want it to, or if it makes you uncomfortable, we can just forget about it and never bring it up again and that’s—that’s fine. I just—I thought I should be honest with you.”

He notices Tanuma go oddly still, his hands falling motionless on the blanket. “O-okay. Wh…what is it, Natsume?”

 It’s definitely too late to back out now. He’s gone and made Tanuma anxious, and he feels like his own gut is about to bottom out too. There’s really going to be no going back from this.

He runs clammy palms down his thighs and pulls in a shuddering breath. Then, in a wild act of courage, he looks up and directly into Tanuma’s inky black eyes. “I love you.”

Tanuma exhales like he got punched in the stomach. His eyes go wide and his mouth hangs open like he forgot how to breathe. For a few long, never-ending seconds, he says nothing. Then he blinks a few times, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, and whispers, “You mean, like…”

“I mean I’m in love with you.” Takashi’s hands tremble so badly he has to sit on them. “I think I have been for a long time. But I didn’t realize it until recently, and I didn’t know if I should tell you because this is so…new for me and I couldn’t bear to lose you and I—I’m scared, Tanuma. I’ve never felt this way before. I treasure you so much I can’t even put it into words.” His chest hitches and as much as he doesn’t want to cry, his eyes start to well up. “I don’t want things to change between us, but I love you and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Before he can stop it, tears are flowing freely down his face. He’s mortified, but there’s nothing he can do. Nothing except hide his face in his hands and brace himself for whatever Tanuma might say or do.

He feels Tanuma get up from the bed and his heart nearly stops. But then there are slender fingers on his wrists gently prying his hands away.

“Natsume—hey, hey. It’s alright.”

He looks into Tanuma’s face and he’s never seen him wear an expression quite like this before. His eyes are shining and they’re so full of what Takashi can only describe as love, naked and pure. Tanuma is always, always gentle, but the tenderness in this expression now is too much for Takashi’s heart to bear. He feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest. He never wants Tanuma to look at him another way ever again.

Something unspoken passes between them. As if drawn by a magnet, Takashi launches himself into Tanuma’s arms and those arms receive him eagerly. One hand cups the back of his head and the other wraps around his shoulders and his face presses into Tanuma’s broad chest and he sobs. He’s been waiting for this for so long. He hadn’t even realized just how much he was starving for it. His hands clutch at the fabric on Tanuma’s back and he’s sure that if lets go, he’ll die. He wants to be held like this for the rest of his life.

Tanuma’s chest shudders too. His arms shift to get a better hold on Takashi’s smaller frame, crushing it into him, and he lifts his chin to rest on the top of Takashi’s head. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.” The words come as a hoarse, trembling whisper. “I’m so—I’m so happy.”

Takashi laughs through his tears. He’s so stupid. How could he have ever been hesitant about this? This feels like the only truly good thing he’s ever done.

They sit that way for a long time—long enough for their tears to taper off, and for Takashi’s knees to start aching from kneeling on the floor. Even then, he can’t bring himself to move. Tanuma’s hand is petting his hair and he can feel his rib cage expanding with every breath he takes. He inhales the scent of incense and laundry detergent and feels like he could get drunk on it.

Finally, though, they pull apart. Tanuma keeps his hands on Takashi’s shoulders.

“Are you okay, Natsume?”

“Yeah.” He wipes the last of the tears away with the heel of his palm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start crying. I don’t know why I—”

“Hey, don’t apologize.” Tanuma rises from his spot on the floor and takes Takashi’s hand, helping him stand and leading him to sit on the bed once more. “And don’t pretend I wasn’t crying too.”

Takashi laughs softly. There are a few droplets of moisture still clinging to Tanuma’s long lashes. He’s so beautiful, it hurts. They’re sitting closer together this time, their knees touching, but Takashi wishes they were closer. He looks longingly down to where Tanuma’s hand is resting on the blanket again.

Tanuma clears his throat. “So, you love me, huh?”

A blush slams into Takashi’s cheeks. “I do. I’m sorry if all of this seems out of the blue, or if it’s weird. Like I said, nothing needs to change if you don’t want it to, but I just felt like I had to—”

“I love you, too.” Tanuma turns on the mattress so he can look at Takashi head-on, drawing up one knee and facing him squarely. “I’ve been in love with you for a really long time, actually. I wasn’t ever planning on telling you, though, because you’re always dealing with so much and I didn’t want to add any stress to your life. And… I didn’t think you felt the same way. It didn’t seem fair to put that on you, so I just kind of accepted the fact that you’d never know how I really felt.” He laughs a little. “I’ve gotten so used to it now, it feels strange to talk about out loud.”

Takashi’s chest feels tight. “Tanuma…”

“I can’t believe you beat me to it.” He smiles so warmly, Takashi would never have known he’d been hiding away such longing but for the pain that manages to make its way into his dark eyes.

Guilt rears its head again, though Takashi doesn’t know if it’s founded or not. He hates the fact that Tanuma has been hiding something so big for so long, and he hates that he’s the cause of it. It must have been painful. Takashi honestly doesn’t know how he would’ve reacted if Tanuma had confessed before he was able to work out his own feelings, but at least then maybe his friend wouldn’t have suffered so much on his account. Looking back, he doesn’t think he ever gave Tanuma a reason to believe it was a good idea to tell him, though. Maybe Tanuma thought it would be infinitely worse to confess and not have his love returned.

That’s fair. Maybe Takashi didn’t have the space for such things until recently. Maybe that’s the real reason he was finally able to realize that what he feels for Tanuma is love—romantic love. He’s learned so much in the past couple of years; he’s learned that he loves people and he loves spirits and that, perhaps, he can balance those two worlds. He’s learned that he is loved in return, and that life can be happy and beautiful and he doesn’t have to be in pain all the time. He feels stable now, and maybe that’s why his heart has opened up to provide room for a different kind of love—the love that he wants to share with Tanuma.

“I’m sorry you were waiting for me for so long,” he says.

Tanuma shakes his head. “Don’t be, Natsume. I never expected anything from you. We’ve never talked about it, but it didn’t seem like you were ever in a place to think about these kinds of things, and I was fine with that. I just…I understand, is what I’m trying to say. And I’m happy enough just being by your side. I never needed you to return my feelings.”

This is why Takashi loves him so much, he thinks. Besides being an all-around wonderful person, he has an uncanny ability to understand what Takashi is thinking and feeling, sometimes. He always seems to know exactly what Takashi needs, often times better than Takashi does himself. The fact that he’s given this so much thought is just proof that he really does love him as much as he says.

“Not that I didn’t want you to!” Tanuma rushes to add. “I’m—I’m so happy right now I don’t know what to do. I never expected you to—” He takes a deep breath and looks into Takashi’s eyes. “Whatever you want to do, Natsume, that’s what I want, too. We don’t have to act on this if you’re not ready. We can just go on being friends, because that’s more than enough for me. But if you want to…” His eyes drift down and linger on something just below Takashi’s eyes and a pretty pink dusts his cheeks. “I would… I would really like to kiss you.”

Takashi’s breath halts in his lungs and his pulse quickens until it’s pounding and his whole body flushes from head to toe. This is definitely, really happening. He nods before he even knows what he’s doing. “Okay.”

And Tanuma, bless his heart, hesitates and searches Takashi’s face. “Are you sure?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it. He leans in and grabs Tanuma’s sweatshirt. “Yes.”

Tanuma’s fingers caress his cheek briefly, and he has to bend down a little to meet his lips. When they touch, fireworks erupt inside of Takashi.

He never thought about what his first kiss would be like. He never gave any thought to romance at all, really, because it always felt like something far away and unobtainable. Romance and love were for normal people who couldn’t see spirits, who never knew the struggle of being alone. They weren’t for people like Takashi. He never believed he would have a first kiss at all, and that was a little painful to think about it, so he just didn’t.

His life has changed so much. He didn’t even realize it was happening until it had happened already.

Tanuma’s lips are soft. They touch him with just as much gentleness and reverence as Tanuma always treats him with. Takashi feels his breath against his skin, hears it exhale through his nose. Tanuma’s fingers trace his jaw, feather-light and careful. Takashi’s hands fist in Tanuma’s sweatshirt and hold on, like he might drift away otherwise.

He feels drunk. He could worship Tanuma like this, forever.

Too soon, the kiss ends. He keeps his eyes closed for a minute, trying to cling to the feeling of Tanuma as long as he can. When he opens his eyes, Tanuma is gazing at him like he’s some sort of wonder, and he looks drunk, too.

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Takashi’s ear. “You’re beautiful, Natsume.”

Takashi ducks his head and feels color rush to his cheeks again, too bashful to even tell him that he’s beautiful too.

“Are you okay with this?”

“Huh?” Maybe his head is still scrambled, but he can’t grasp what he means.

“Just—” Tanuma looks more concerned than he should. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, or do anything you don’t want to. We just told each other that we love each other and that’s, like, a big deal. I just want to make sure you feel safe.”

God, he loves him so much. “I do, Tanuma. I always feel safe when I’m with you. I think…I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” He doesn’t say that he wants to do other things, too, like fall asleep in his arms or buy a house together.

“Good.” Tanuma’s smile is full of relief and absolute unbridled joy. “I have too. You have no idea.”

He believes that’s true now. The irony isn’t lost on him, either, how it seems that they’ve had the exact same thoughts about each other. Taki is probably right about how they’d be going around in circles if left to their own devices.

He hopes that they can stop tiptoeing around each other sometime in the future. They’re both too considerate to be presumptuous, but he knows this is just as new for Tanuma as it is for him. And that’s just how they are. The other comes first, no matter what.

“I don’t think I’ll be very good at this, Tanuma.”

Tanuma tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

A tendril of anxiety curls around his gut. “I mean… I’m not very good at talking about my feelings, and I have trouble being honest sometimes. I still get freaked out when people care too much about me, or when I care too much for somebody else. I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend to you.” Slowly, hesitantly, he takes Tanuma’s hand in both of his and holds it to his chest like a precious treasure. “But I can promise that I’ll try my best. I’ll work on getting better at all of those things, because you deserve it.”

Tanuma stares at him for a moment like he’s confused, and then he starts to laugh. He brings his free hand up and covers Takashi’s with it. “Natsume… You think I don’t know all of that about you already? I definitely disagree with some of it, but I know you. I know how you are, so don’t worry, okay? I have pretty realistic expectations, I think.”

That’s right. He forgets sometimes that he doesn’t need to explain himself to some people anymore. Tanuma has been with him through so much. He’s seen Takashi at his worst—or at least the worst anyone else has ever seen him at—and he loves him anyway. That feels like a miracle.

“But you…want to be my boyfriend?”

The question is posed with disbelief. Takashi blinks. “Well, yeah. I thought that—that’s what you do next after confessing.” Panic starts building. “Is that wrong? Do you not want to?”

For just a fleeting moment, he’s worried that that isn’t what Tanuma had in mind at all. Takashi doesn’t know what he’s doing, after all. Could he have completely misunderstood—?

“Of course I do.” Tanuma says it urgently, leaning towards him with frantic eagerness. “But you want to? That’s a big step, Natsume. We don’t have to rush into anything if you don’t want to. You’re sure you’re ready for something like that?”

He takes a moment to think about it. It is a pretty big commitment, he guesses. He has no idea what it means to be someone’s boyfriend, but while he doesn’t think he’ll be any good at it at first, he knows he can learn. It doesn’t feel right to just go on being friends with Tanuma. He doesn’t want to.

When he speaks again, his words are slow and thoughtful. “If I’m ever going to be anyone’s boyfriend, I’m going to be yours, Tanuma.”

He hears Tanuma’s breath catch in his throat.

“There’s no one else I’d rather take this step with. I don’t think there will ever be anyone else, to be honest. So, yes, I want to. I’m ready.” He smiles. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to learn. With you.”

For a second, he thinks he might see Tanuma’s lip tremble. He can’t be sure, though, because the next things he knows is that Tanuma has his face buried in his shoulder and his arms wrapped around his waist. His smile widens further. He hugs Tanuma again, and it feels just as nice to be the one doing the holding as the one being held. He hopes the future will be filled with a lot more of this.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either, for the record.” Tanuma’s voice is muffled by his shirt. “But you’re right—we’ll learn together.”

Takashi cards his fingers through Tanuma’s hair, ruffling it even more, and experimentally presses a kiss to the crown of his head. It feels strange to do—it still doesn’t seem like he’s allowed, and it’s such a foreign, unfamiliar action—but he gets to do it now. He can’t wait until it’s something he does as naturally as breathing. He can’t wait until the sensation of Tanuma’s hair is so familiar he can feel it without touching it.

Tanuma presses himself closer in response, fingers making indents in Takashi’s ribcage. They sit that way for a while longer, until their heartbeats sync up and Takashi is thinking maybe he doesn’t need to move ever again.

But, eventually, Tanuma lifts his head and pushes himself up. “It’s getting pretty late. Do you want to stay here tonight?”

“I do.” He grins regretfully. “But I promised the Fujiwaras I’d play a board game with them tonight, and I’m sure they’re getting worried. Maybe tomorrow?”

It feels wrong, to part ways now after all of that. He really doesn’t want to go, but maybe it’s best for them both to have some time to process it all. And they have all the time in the world to spend together.

“Deal,” Tanuma says with a pretty smile. “I’ll walk you out.”

They reach the entryway and Takashi puts on his shoes and slings his bag over his shoulder. Crickets are chirping through the open door and a warm breeze drifts by. He turns around on the stoop and lets his gaze linger on Tanuma for a moment more. “Thank you, Tanuma.”

“For what?”

“For just…being you. For being so kind and understanding. I was so nervous to talk to you about this, but you made it so easy.”

Tanuma shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything, Natsume. I’m the one who should be thanking you. I’m…I’m really glad you talked to me. I feel really lucky.” His palm comes up to cup the side of Takashi’s face, thumb sliding across his cheekbone.

Takashi nuzzles into it. “So do I.”

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

He laughs gently. “Are you gonna ask for permission every time?”

“Probably.” His smile is so handsome. “At least until we get some more practice.”

“You’re a dork.” Takashi reaches up and grabs his wrist. “You can kiss me now.”

The second kiss is just as incredible as the first. Maybe even better, because this time Takashi’s heart doesn’t feel like it wants to beat its way out of his chest quite so much. It tastes sweet and full of promise.

“Hah?!”

The sudden cry makes them both flinch and pull apart.

Nyanko-sensei is on the path coming up from the woods to Tanuma’s front door. He’s frozen in his tracks, a truly horrified expression on his face.

Takashi’s face is suddenly boiling. “S-Sensei!”

“I come all this way to make sure nothing’s eaten you and this whole time you’ve been fooling around?!”

“I was not fooling around!” He hasn’t even had time to think about how he would tell anyone about this recent development. It’s not terribly surprising that Nyanko-sensei happened to barge in on this intimate moment, but he’s definitely not prepared to explain anything just yet.

“Whatever you want to call it! I’ve been looking for you all afternoon thinking you got into some trouble and when I finally find you you’re kissing Tanuma? Stupid idiot!”

“Hey.” Tanuma steps closer to Takashi and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Be nice, Ponta. That’s my boyfriend you’re talking to.”

Butterflies flutter and swirl in Takashi’s stomach. He can’t even be embarrassed, even though he probably should be. He wonders if he’ll ever stop blushing.

Nyanko’s mouth hangs open comically and one eye twitches. “How long did I leave you alone for, Natsume?!”

“Not long enough,” Takashi sighs.

Nyanko huffs in exasperation. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. At least maybe now your head won’t be in the clouds all the damn time.” He points a stubby paw in Tanuma’s direction. “But you! Don’t go distracting him too much! It makes my job harder!”

Tanuma laughs good-naturedly. “Sir, yes sir.”

“Honestly, you should’ve asked my permission before going and turning Natsume into some love-struck schoolgirl. It’s just good manners.”

Now Takashi is embarrassed. “Nyanko-sensei!”

Tanuma just laughs even harder and squeezes Takashi’s shoulders. “You should probably get going. Don’t keep the Fujiwaras waiting too long.”

“Right.” He smiles up at Tanuma and vows that, tomorrow, he’ll tell him how handsome he is with his growth spurt. Knowing Tanuma, he hasn’t even noticed his own change. “Goodnight, Tanuma.”

“Goodnight, Natsume.”

Their arms slide together as Takashi steps away and they squeeze each other’s fingers before their hands part, a silent I love you hanging in the air between them. Takashi’s heart aches a little as he walks away from the house and Tanuma becomes a silhouette in the distance, but he feels lighter than he has in a long, long time. The summer air feels hopeful and full of potential and for once, he isn’t scared of the future at all.

“It’s about time you got that over with.”

“Hm?” He looks down at his bodyguard. “I thought you were mad.”

The cat turns his nose up in the air. “Well, I’m definitely not happy about it. You’re going to be even more insufferable now. But you’ve been too mopey about him for too long. It’s good you figured it out on your own.”

“Figured it out…?” Suddenly every conversation he’s had recently comes back and he feels hot with mortification. “Has everyone known what was going on except for me?!”

“Probably. It was obvious enough, and you’re an idiot. You and Tanuma are both idiots.”

For once, he thinks Nyanko-sensei may be right.

The cat hops up onto his shoulder. “Now, pick up the pace, Natsume! I heard Touko say she’s making pudding for game night!”

Takashi can’t help but be touched, because even though he’d never say it in so many words, he knows this is Nyanko-sensei’s way of showing his support. He pats the cat on the head. “Okay, Sensei.”

As he jogs towards his house, his heart feels fuller than it ever has before. There’s so much love in it that he’s afraid it’s going to overflow. And, for the first time, it isn’t just that he’s receiving love—he has an abundance of it to give, and that’s the most amazing thing of all. He’s ready to give that love to everyone he can.

He’s ready to love Tanuma most of all. This brand new flame that’s sparked between them is something he’ll cherish and nurture until it’s a blazing fire. He isn’t scared. He doesn’t want to run from it.

Whatever their future is together, he can’t wait to see it.

[truerhearts]

you’re mine - toji one shot

masterlist | ao3 | requests

★ warnings: very toxic, possessive af, and overprotective af toji

★ summary: (y/n) and toji are friends with benefits, until (y/n) ghosts him. While he's usually aloof and detached, he begins to grow curious, and then a bit obsessive of her whereabouts. He'll stop at nothing to get her back.

3rd person

5.5k words

mature rating (lil spicy at end but not 18+)

★ a/n: i've been sitting on this for three weeks now, writing on and off. I hope you guys enjoy

Toji wasn’t one to get worried, or jealous, or anything along those lines. His stoic demeanour meant he could remain detached, and he became quite adept at keeping people at arms length. Though lately, that was changing.

He despised the fact that he had been growing curious about (y/n)‘s whereabouts; it had been over two and a half weeks since he last heard from her, which was quite unusual. The lack of her presence had become increasingly difficult for him to ignore. It was unusual for them to go this long without contact; even if he refrained from reaching out for a few days, (y/n) typically took the initiative at some point. They had never gone this long without contact since they began their frequent rendezvous.

The agreement of their arrangement was quite clear. Casual sex, no strings attached – don’t catch feelings.

Easy enough. He’d done it a few times with other women before and it went well enough. Maintaining the friends-with-benefits dynamic was as easy for him as breathing itself.

But for some reason, (y/n) was different. He didn’t understand why he cared so much, why all the sudden he was craving her company in a way that was different than just a casual hookup.

Though for the few months they had been copulating, they had grown slightly closer, even if Toji hadn’t realized it. It was nearly impossible to meet up with someone a few times a week and not get to know them in some regard. It was mostly in the few hours where she would stay after they had sex that they would end up conversing. She was the one that initiated it, and the first time she stayed he thought it was odd - he was used to just parting ways after the deed was done. But things were different with (y/n). They both seemed to be different people after sex. They normally had a fiery relationship. They tended to get on each others nerves quite often but as soon as they would finish with each other, there was a sort of calmness in the air. They would have intellectual conversations and learn a lot about each other. She laughed at his jokes, and she told him her dreams and aspirations. He would share his as well, though he wasn’t quiet as ambitious as her. He slowly started to realize that he enjoyed spending time with her. Most nights after she left, Toji found himself questioning how he was able to open up to her like that. It ended up growing on him and he looked forward to it every time they made plans to see each other – even if he didn’t realize it.

He sat in the living room of his upscale apartment, (y/n) being the one and only thing on his mind. He stared at his phone that rested in his palm, fingers gripping the edge, a new message to her open and blank. He typed a few words: “where the fuck have you been?” Then deleted them. Then tried again: “why haven’t I heard from you?” Then deleted them, again.

He clicked his tongue and closed his phone, running a strong hand through his raven-coloured hair. The more he tried to stop thinking about her, the more she stayed in his mind. He sighed heavily, leaning back in his leather armchair. The fan whirred overhead, blowing cool air on him. It was refreshing.

He thought back to the last time he saw her as he stared up at the fan that spun hypnotically. He didn’t treat her any differently than he normally did. The only difference was she left shortly after they finished having sex, which was unusual. She’d usually stay for even just a little while. But this time she got dressed and left. He was confused, but she explained that she had to be up early in the morning and was tired from the night before. So, she left. He didn’t walk her out. He stayed in bed, bitter at the fact she was leaving so soon. He linked his fingers behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, hearing his door close signalling her departure. The silence that followed was deafening, and his abode never felt emptier.

Maybe he should have walked her out, or at least pried and asked her what was wrong. But at the time he was none the wiser. He was kicking himself for it now.

He sat up on his chair resting his elbows on his knees and cradling his head, a soft, frustrated “fuck” escaping his lips. It was bothering him. It bothered him that she left so soon after, and it bothered him that he hadn’t heard from her. He felt like he was losing control of their situation, which made him want to sink his teeth deeper into her, like a wolf on its prey, just to get a grip again.

He opened his phone once more and sent her a simple “Hey.” He closed it immediately after mentally scolding himself and regretting his decision. But there was no going back.

Now, he needed a distraction. He decided to prep for a job he needed to complete by the end of the week. He figured he might as well do it now, as if he sat in his apartment any longer, he felt he was going to go mad. He made a mental list of everything he needed and made his way around to collect it all, shoving all of it in a small duffel bag.

He just finished turning his key to lock his door when he felt his phone vibrate. His heart jumped and he pulled it out with such haste it was as if it was already ready in his palm.

“hey” she replied. Nothing extravagant, but it was a reply, nonetheless.

He dropped his duffel bag and grasped his phone with both hands, feeling like he was about to type the reply of the century. But he found it hard to formulate a proper response. He felt like he needed to tread carefully, like saying the wrong thing would send her running. He wrote a few words then deleted them again like before, then finally settled on: “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

He put his phone back in his pocket and picked up his bag again. He made his way down the hall with determination, stopping in his tracks when he felt his phone buzz again. “Just been working lots.”

He sighed. Trying to talk to her was proving more difficult now than it ever had been.

He didn’t want to be the one to ask. He wanted her to want to see him - he needed that control back. Though there wasn’t much he could accomplish with that over text. He just needed to see her, just once. He felt he could win her back. He racked his brain on what to do. It was obvious she wasn’t going to be the one to ask.

So, he admitted defeat: “do you wanna come over tonight?” he typed. He had asked that question before, but it felt so… needy this time. He knew how it could come off, but he didn’t care, his need to see her was too great to worry about anything else right now. He was going through withdrawals, and she was his fix.

He didn’t expect her next reply.

“I’m going out with some friends later.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. He furrowed his brow as his fingers worked quickly tapping at his phone screen, still standing in the middle of the empty apartment complex corridor.

“What about after?” he replied, rather shamefully. Time seemed to stop as he watched the three dots appear letting him know she was crafting a reply of her own.

“Maybe another time.”

He wanted to crush his phone. “I’m gonna fucking kill her,” Now, he was fed up. His attempt didn’t work, and he was more upset now for texting her so desperately. He scooped his bag off the floor and rushed back down the corridor to his apartment. The job would unfortunately have to wait, he needed a plan for her.

He forced his door open, kicking off his shoes and leaving his bag by the door. He sat back down in his chair, turning on the TV just to have something to fill the silence. He stared blankly at it, not paying attention as his mind was running rampant with thoughts of why she had pushed him away so suddenly.

He thought fondly of her, the memories they had together. How good they would make each other feel, but also how they would make each other laugh and just being in each others company. His favourite thing was how she felt against his chest while his arms were wrapped around her. He wasn’t one for cuddling, but it felt right with her. He imagined tracing his hand up her body as she lied down on her side - starting on her thigh, up and over her hips, down through the curve of her waist, his hand trailing further up until he reached the nape of her neck, then tangling his fingers in her soft hair.

He then thought of her touch on his skin, tracing his muscular figure and taking her time lightly dragging her fingers across the prominent veins on his forearms and hands. She always expressed how much she loved them. He’d always called her stupid for liking something as strange as that. There were plenty of things he liked about himself: his height, his strength, and a few other things, but his veins didn’t seem like something that should be paid any mind to. But he secretly adored that she admired something about him, even if he did think it was odd.

He’d give anything to hear her say it right now.

He missed her.

Maybe it was work. Maybe she was genuinely busy. Life happens…

Or maybe she was seeing someone else…

Toji’s mind then betrayed him. He imagined her form - naked. The body he had seen so many times before and had gotten to know so well. Every soft curve, every sweet spot. He imagined her in a position he favoured, but the person she was sharing pleasure with was not him. Envy soon coursed through his veins like a toxic river; if you cut him open, he would bleed a brilliant viridian, feeling hatred towards a man who never existed.

He tried to shake these jealous feelings, but the thought of her with another man made his jaw clench and his fists ball until his knuckles were white like the snow capped mountains he would toss this imaginary man from. After tossing him, he’d command an avalanche to make sure he vanished without a trace… Perhaps that would keep him away.

His expression said it all. Blank eyes concealed a simmering rage, leaving an impression that could easily mislead those unaware. To the uninitiated observer, it might seem as though he had a personal vendetta against the TV before him.

He wasn’t going to let her slip away that easily. Not after all the time they spent together. Not after everything. She owed him for making him feel like this - for making him fall in love with her.

He knew the places she frequented, and he would show up at all of them if he had to.

-

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the city. Toji looked out from his window, scanning over the streets of Tokyo with his objective in mind.

He went to his room and got ready. He glanced at himself in the mirror, taking a moment to ensure he looked his best. He seldom obsessed over his appearance, yet tonight, he made and exception. The aftershave she had complimented him on lingered subtly, and he wore the long black sleeve crewneck that accentuated his toned physique, another detail she had previously praised.

He descended into the depths of the city, making his way to the crowded train station. He pushed past a sea of bodies, wasting no time boarding the next train that was heading to Shibuya. The doors sealed shut and the train sped off.

Emerging into the lively Shibuya streets, he walked with a measured pace, hands shoved in his pockets, and a cool expression on his face. It was a delicate balance—a façade of nonchalance masking the urgency beneath. He wanted to avoid appearing too hasty, hoping that by some twist of fate, he might casually run into her.

He tried various different places, methodically ticking off her favourite and other spots he knew she may frequent like her favourite boba, and fast-food places. His search, however, turned up nothing.

He walked by the place they originally met hoping maybe she’d be there, though he wished that wasn’t the case; he wouldn’t want that ruined by happening upon her with a date there. He took a glance inside and was almost relieved he didn’t see her there.

He tried a few other places, and she was still nowhere to be found. He tried one more place, a restaurant she had mentioned enjoying a few times to him in passing. He originally had walked by it, but his nagging intuition compelled him to check again. To his disbelief, as he peered through the window, there she was, seated near the back, enjoying dinner with... another man?

His eyes widened in stark realization. There she was, immersed in conversation, smiling and giggling, sharing sips of her drink with the animated guy who held her attention. It was a scene that struck Toji like a swift punch to the gut.

The cool guy act dissipated instantly as he wasted no time pushing the door open.  His lip curled, and brow furrowed, he bypassed the hostess who tried to stop him but wisely gave up. He bumped into a few patrons, a silent warning in his wake, who didn’t dare argue with him as he strode past. His presence was commanding, but he failed to get their attention as he approached.

They were in the middle of dinner, their meals half eaten, and their fruity looking cocktails half drank. She looked happy, but not any happier than she did when she was with Toji, which to Toji was a good sign.

“what’s going on here?” Toji interjected, again wasting no time. akin to a rapier, making it clear he was in a far-from-favorable mood. She looked up at him, eyes widening, not expecting to see her part time lover beside her table.

“T-Toji?” She stammered, caught off guard by his unanticipated presence.  

Toji couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction. “Hey,” He greeted. He was so pleased to have found her; satisfaction coursed through his being.

Her date, slightly irritated at the intrusion, directed a question at her, “Do you know this guy, (y/n)?” She was still gazing up at Toji.

Toji took a quick look at the guy, confused at how he managed to grab her attention. Sizing him up, Toji concluded that he could easily snap this guy in half if push came to shove. While Toji couldn't gauge his height, the man appeared fairly thin. It didn't matter much to Toji; in his mind, no one stood as an equal opponent, regardless of size. For her, he'd take on anyone. He turned his gaze back towards her.

“Oh…” she said, at a loss for words, still stunned to see him. “Yes, ummm.” she wiped her mouth with her serviette. “Hatori… this is Toji. Toji - Hatori.” she introduced them awkwardly. Hatori looked at Toji expectantly but received nothing in return.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Toji stated, irritation evident in his tone, pointedly ignoring the man she was sitting with.

(Y/n) was about to reply when Hatori replied for her. “We’re on a second date.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Toji spat coldly while maintaining his hard gaze on her. She looked down and away from him, hoping he’d somehow just disappear.

“Excuse me,” Hatori interjected. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here.” Toji continued to ignore him.

“Let’s go.” Toji said sternly to (y/n). She didn't look at him, though he repeated, now growing impatient, "C'mon, let's go."

“What the fuck?” Hatori threw his serviette down. Hatori made an attempt to stand up to Toji. Not a great one, but it was still an attempt. “Look, I don’t know who the hell you are or why the hell you’re here, but you better leave us alone.”

Toji finally looked over to him. He placed his hand on the table, fingers splayed, and leaned down, so they were eye to eye. Hatori swallowed thickly, bracing himself for whatever Toji might do. “You better not be threatening me.” Toji said lowly. “Because I think between the two of us it’s pretty obvious who would win.” Toji’s eyes narrowed a bit. “I’ll break your legs.”

Hatori didn’t want to back down, but faced with Toji, who was nearly three times his size, he wisely decided to remain in the booth.

Toji stood up, pulled out his wallet, and carelessly throwed some money on the table. “Here. Dinners on me tonight.” Then, he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the booth with such ease, as if she were just a doll. “I said let’s go.”

He dragged her through the restaurant, attracting attention from every direction. Murmurs and whispers filled the air, but she ignored them. She looked over her shoulder and gave Hatori one last look of sympathy before Toji pulled her out of the restaurant. She didn’t protest or resist, she knew it would be futile anyways. She just allowed herself to be dragged down the bustling streets of Shibuya.

They were both silent the whole way back, Toji never releasing his grip on her arm once.

-

He unlocked the door to his apartment and ushered her inside, following closely behind. She walked straight into the living room and planted herself firmly on the chair that Toji had occupied earlier.

It was only after Toji closed his door that he broke his streak of silence. He finally felt like he had regained control.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked as the lock clicked into place.

She perked up at his words and scoffed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I reported to you at the end of the day.” He walked into the living room and leaned on the entranceway arms crossed as he soaked her in.

It was then when he finally noticed her outfit. He was too focused on getting her away from that guy and back to his place to get a good look at it earlier. It was pretty, it looked great on her. A nice pair of pants and a corset top with a small shrug on top to cover her arms, although it didn’t much to keep the cold at bay.

“Did you want to impress him with those clothes?” he smirked half-heartedly, a little pissed off that she dressed up for another guy.

“I wore this because I thought it was cute. And what do you care anyways?” she crossed her arms. “Why did you do that, ruin my dinner? And how did you even know where to find me.”

“I don’t care.” he lied. Disregarding the question of why, he continued. “And we have an arrangement. I wanted to make use of it tonight.”

“I’m done, Toji.”

He was taken aback by her words but didn’t falter. He remained where he was, leaning on the door frame. He was silent, sending her a challenging gaze. She sighed exasperated sigh when he didn’t reply.

“I don’t want to be just a quick fuck, for you or anyone else. I want something serious now.” She expressed.

“Why the change of heart?” He smirked, though he was still puzzled at everything.

She was unamused. Not wanting to explain herself further, she crossed her arms and huffed.

Toji was trying to think of what to say. He didn’t know whether to come right out and say it – tell her exactly how he’s been feeling since she left so abruptly that evening.  But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to tell her. He just wanted things to fall into place. He wished she could just read his mind; it would make everything so much easier.

Her phone started to ring. They both knew exactly who it was.

“Pick it up.” Toji commanded, nodding a head towards her purse. His lips a flat line and his eyes carefully watched her.

“No,” she snapped, defiance burning like a fire in her eyes.

The fire was put out almost as quickly as it started. Before she knew it, he was dashing over to her. He snatched her purse while her guard was down. She tried to stop him, but he was too strong. He gently forced her back down onto the chair and snatched the purse, giving her a triumphant smile while she scowled at him. He pulled her phone out and flung the purse carelessly on the couch before answering the call.

She sat on the chair, arms crossed, spectating helplessly. He maintained his devilish smirk, lifting the phone to his ear. Any effort to get the phone back would be met with defeat so she simply didn’t bother.

“(y/n)? are you alright?” Hatori’s frantic voice spilled through the phone. Toji moved the phone away from his ear so she could listen as well. Hatori began rambling about how rude Toji was and a few other things, still not realizing who was on the other line. Toji had a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face, the scar on his lip being tugged along with it. His smug grin stretched even further when he noticed a look of embarrassment creeping up on her own. She turned away to hide it as they both listened to the frantic man on the other end of the line.

Toji waited patiently for the rambling to cease. When Hatori finally stopped, Toji he spoke in a low and controlled voice that cut through the air. “Don’t call her, don’t text her, she doesn’t want you, just leave her the fuck alone.” His eyes never left her as he spoke, intensifying the weight of his words.

Her ears perked up at his words. Something about his overprotectiveness piqued her attention. She turned her head slightly and met his eyes once more, the dark blue in them resembling a turbulent storm.

“Y-yeah? Is that a threat?” Hatori’s shaky voice responded. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Toji chuckled, a dangerous edge to his laughter. “I would be if I were you. Lose her number because if I find out you’re still trying to contact her, you won’t have any fingers to dial with.”

He promptly hung up, tossing her phone on the couch.

“I can’t believe you went on a second date with that guy.” Toji said nonchalantly.

She stared at him not uttering a single word.

Toji, sensing the weight of the moment, cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. They shifted back to their conversation, but this time, Toji's tone took on a different edge, like the flip of a switch. “How many people have you been with since the last time you were here?” he interrogated, the intensity returning to his voice.

She scoffed incredulous that he would even ask such a question. “None! what did I just say? I’m not doing that anymore.” She retorted, frustration still very evident in her tone.

“So, you didn’t fuck him?”

“No, and if I did what do you care?” she turned her head away. “You can just find someone else for this ‘arrangement’. it doesn’t have to be me.”

Toji was silent for a moment as he looked down at her. From her beautiful hair to her feminine frame, he needed every inch of her. He made a rather hasty decision. “Yes, it does.” He walked forward looking down at her on his chair.

she snapped her head back, craning it to look up at him. “What- “

“You don’t really think I’m going to let you go that easily, do you?”

Despite herself, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. In an attempt to supress it, furrowed her brow. “Are you deaf? I said, I am not having casual sex anymore. Not with you, not with anyone else.”

“My hearing is just fine.” He chuckled, condescension and allure lacing his words. “I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m saying.” He leaned down, grasping the arm rests of the chair for support as he met her at eye level “We’re not done here, do you get it?” he spoke slowly, locking eyes with her.

She could smell his aftershave.

A warmth spread across her face. His demeanor had shifted, and she fought to suppress the blush that threatened to reveal her internal turmoil. She stared into his dark blue eyes, hoping he couldn’t read her mind.

“What do you want from me, Toji?” she asked, matching his tone. He had now gotten so close she could feel his breath on her face. If they were just a few inches closer…

He thought about kissing her right there, but he still couldn’t fully gage her emotions. His eyes kept flicking from her own to her soft, supple lips.

He missed those lips.

“I want to fuck- “

“Shut up.” She cut him off. “What do you really want? You don’t just walk around Shibuya looking for someone, hoping that you’ll run into them, just for sex.” She narrowed her eyes at him, catching him off guard.

Checkmate.

Toji was speechless, a mischievous smile plastered on his face. She caught him.

He swiped his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he thought of a reply. His eyes flickered around her face until he managed to utter: “If you already know then I don’t have to say it.”

“I want you to say it.”

“I want to fuck.”

“Alright.” she swiftly escaped the cage he made around her with his arms, grabbed her purse and phone from the couch and began to make her way to the door.

As she attempted her exit, his frustration reached it’s breaking point. He wasn’t going to let her leave again. “Fine,” he growled. She felt a strong hand wrap around her upper arm and pull her back, causing her to stumble and fall back into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, leaning down and resting his chin on her shoulder. He had her pressed right up against him, the muscles of his torso being a solid support against her back.

He spoke quietly in her ear. “I missed you.” A shiver ran down her spine as the warmth from his breath graced the delicate skin of her neck as he spoke. “I don’t want to see you with anyone else. It pisses me off. I want you all to myself.”

Toji couldn’t believe the words that he was uttering. He winced at his own words, wondering how she would react. If she even felt the same.

A playful smirk curved her lips. “I didn’t take you for the jealous type, Toji.” she said in a playful tone. The way his name fell off lips her sent a jolt through him.

“Shut up… I’m not jealous.” He retorted in a low and tentative voice, but the tightened his arms around her betrayed his statement. He couldn’t tell her the rage and envy he felt when he saw them laughing together at that restaurant. He’d die before admitting it. He tightened his arms yet again at the thought, pushing his head further into her neck.  “And stop being so fucking… bratty.” He spoke against her skin.

She hummed softly. “What about our rules?”

“I don’t fucking care anymore.” he confessed, surprising even himself. The Toji she knew, the one who maintained distance and detachment, was unraveling before her.

He continued, “If the only way you’ll stay is if we drop the friends with benefits thing then we’ll drop it.” He chose his next words carefully, “I want to be with you.”

She spun around in his arms, looking up at him. “Do you even know what you’re saying right now?” She questioned in disbelief at the words he was saying. She placed her hands on his upper arms, feeling his tense muscles under her touch. “This… isn’t like you at all.” She furrowed her brow. “Are you… being honest with me?”

He didn’t want to talk anymore. He felt like he was making a fool of himself, seemingly digging himself into a bigger hole. “Can I… show you something?” He asked, his lips a straight line.

She looked at him, puzzled, but she obliged anyway. “Okay,” apprehension obvious in her tone.

“Follow me.” He said, walking through the corridors of his apartment as she followed close behind. He looked over his shoulder once to make sure she was following him. She didn’t know what he had planned, but they ended up in a   room she was quite familiar with - his bedroom. It was dark and quiet, the only light coming from the glow of the city below them.

He skillfully snaked his arm around her waist, gripping it with his large hand. He pulled her closer to him, pressing her against his solid torso.

“Toji-“she was cut off by his lips crashing down on hers.

He kissed her slowly, with a different passion than what she was used to. He was more careful and calculated. The slower pace ignited a different fire in her, one that she was unfamiliar with when it came to him. Still hungry, and needy, she could tell he craved her. His hand moved up to the base of her neck, pulling her in further.

She folded too easily, finally kissing him back, melting into his touch. He cradled her cheek in his hand before sliding it down her body. His mouth was hot against hers, his tongue gracing her bottom lip, begging for entrance. Her hands moved from his biceps to his neck, one of them making it way to the nape, grasping his raven-colored hair, silently begging for more.

Her breath hitched in her throat as he suddenly lifted her from the ground and placed her on the bed, climbing on top of her. He wasted no time connecting his lips to hers once more. His kisses were still painfully slow, the anticipation almost being unbearable for her, but they were laced with desperation.

She tugged the hem of his shirt, inching it further and further upwards until her hands soon found themselves wandering beneath, tracing the carvings of his muscles. His skin was hot to the touch. As he felt her fingers lightly gracing his body, he inadvertently lowered his pelvis to her. They both let out a soft moan as they collided, and he gripped the sheets beside her head. She could feel him press against her as her hands continued to trail up, feeling every inch of his torso. He eventually lifted his shirt off and tossed it carelessly to the floor below.

He pressed his lips to hers once more before he parted their kiss momentarily. “I didn’t know I needed you like this. I didn’t know how much I would miss you,” he whispered as his lips hovered hers. Instead of connecting them again, he made his way over to her cheek, tracing his lips over her until he met with the sweet spot of her neck. He nipped gently and lightly at her skin as she spoke.

“I wanted it to be like this all along.” She confessed breathily. She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging and gripping it as he continued to work her neck. “I wanted to be someone you actually cared about…”

He paused as the words escaped her mouth. He took his lips away from her neck, pulling away so he could look at her. She stared up at him, feeling protected like he was her shield - his arms on either side of her head. The light from the city casting the faintest warm glow on his face and body. She continued. “It’s why I always spent time with you after sex. I was hoping that eventually you’d change your mind.”

“I think it worked.” He smiled down at her, his voice low and husky. He lowered himself so his face was inches from hers again, “I’ll be honest, I think I fell for you a lot sooner than I realized.” He murmured, lips brushing against hers. “The last time you left it felt like I was missing something.” He kissed her gently. “Don’t leave like that again.” The words getting caught in the little air that stood between them. Her breath hitched in her throat as he connected their lips once again.

-

The sunlight filtered through the windows of the bedroom, gently coaxing him awake. Toji slowly stirred, eyes opening slightly when he realized he wasn’t alone in his bed.

Relief washed over him; she hadn’t left. She was sleeping peacefully beside him.

He pulled her close, feeling the warmth of her body spread through his chest as she sleepily nestled closer to him.

She was still there, and he had her all to himself.

[weight-gain-stories-lena]

MOMMY'S CAREFUL CONTROL

Male Feedee and Female Feeder

-Part 1-

Anna had always been a devoted mother to her son, Dave. From the moment he was born, she promised herself that she would be the most caring, protective, and loving mother. But as Dave turned 18, things began to change. He was no longer the little boy she had raised; he was a young adult, ready to leave the nest. He was talking about college, moving out, and becoming more independent. The thought of that terrified Anna.

She had grown accustomed to having him around, to taking care of him, and to being the center of his world. But now, Dave was starting to want more freedom. He was making plans with his friends, spending more time away from home, and even talking about working part-time jobs to save money. It was as if he was slipping away from her.

One evening, as she watched him eat a bowl of cereal in the kitchen, an idea crossed Anna’s mind. She realized that if Dave stayed at home longer, if he wasn’t so eager to leave, maybe he wouldn’t change so much. And if he gained some weight, maybe he wouldn’t feel like leaving. So, she decided to take matters into her own hands, in the most loving way she knew how.

Anna began preparing meals that were rich in calories—burgers, pizza, fried chicken, cakes, and snacks. She made sure there were always treats in the house, her son’s favorite foods always within reach. At first, Dave thought it was just her being extra caring, making sure he had enough to eat as he was getting older. But soon, he noticed that he was gaining weight. He felt a little more sluggish, a little more tired, and, to his surprise, he didn’t mind.

In fact, he found comfort in the indulgence. The heavy, greasy food tasted so good, and the cozy feeling of being at home, enjoying his mom’s cooking, made him feel secure. Anna noticed how much Dave was enjoying his meals, how much he seemed to relish the extra pounds. She didn’t push him to be more active; instead, she made him feel comfortable just the way he was.

As the days passed, Dave grew more and more accustomed to his slower, more sedentary lifestyle. He would spend hours in front of the TV, eating his favorite snacks, not feeling the urge to exercise. The weight he was gaining didn’t bother him; he enjoyed the comfort of the food and the feeling of being pampered by his mom.

Anna watched with satisfaction as her son became less and less interested in leaving the house. He seemed content, happy to stay home and relax. She smiled, knowing that she was keeping him close. As much as she loved seeing him grow up, she didn’t want to lose him. She felt a deep sense of joy every time she saw him lounging on the couch, surrounded by snacks, just the way she wanted him to be—comfortable, content, and hers.

For Anna, this was her way of keeping her son close, of making sure he didn’t drift too far away. And for Dave, it was a time of comfort and indulgence, a slow but steady shift into a life of ease and contentment—just the way his mother wanted it.

-Part 2-

As the months passed, Dave’s routine continued on its easy, familiar path. The indulgent meals his mother prepared for him never stopped. In fact, Anna found herself taking more and more pride in making sure Dave had everything he could want. She stocked the kitchen with extra snacks, baked pies and cakes every weekend, and made sure his favorite fast foods were just a phone call away. Dave’s appetite had only grown, and he no longer questioned how much he was eating.

Dave could feel his clothes tightening, his body becoming heavier, but for some reason, it didn’t bother him. If anything, he was enjoying the comfort it provided. The tightness around his waist was a reminder of how much his mother loved him, of the endless meals and treats she offered. He felt no pressure to work out or get healthier; everything was so easy, so comforting. Whenever he was tired or sluggish, his mom would always tell him to rest and take it easy. “You deserve it,” she’d say with a smile.

Anna, too, was thrilled to see her son grow bigger. His increasing size, his relaxed demeanor—everything about it made her feel like she was keeping him close. He was no longer the independent young man who spoke of moving out. Now, he preferred to stay at home, eat, and enjoy the simple life she had created for him. Anna felt that if he got bigger and slower, he would stay home longer, and that made her heart swell with contentment.

When they went shopping together, Anna would sometimes notice the strange glances from others, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that her son was happy, and he was. She had stopped asking if he was sure he wanted to go out with friends or try something more active. Instead, she encouraged him to rest and enjoy his food. “You’re growing into a strong man,” she would tell him, patting his stomach affectionately.

And Dave, for his part, was happy. He wasn’t bothered by the fact that he had put on more weight. His mother’s food always tasted so good, and it filled the empty spaces inside him. He had stopped noticing the subtle way his body was changing—his face rounder, his arms and legs thicker, his once athletic physique now hidden beneath layers of softness. But as long as he had his mom’s cooking and comfort, he didn’t care.

Anna didn’t stop her nurturing ways either. She continued to make large portions of food and keep him in a world of indulgence. She’d make sure there were no obstacles in his way, that he always had an excuse not to exercise, and that everything he needed was within arm’s reach. Watching her son grow in size and comfort was a twisted kind of joy for her. She saw it as her way of keeping him safe, of ensuring that he would never have to leave her side.

One day, as Dave sat on the couch, rubbing his full stomach after another hearty meal, Anna came over and sat beside him, her hand resting on his belly. “You’re looking good, sweetheart,” she said, her voice full of warmth and pride.

Dave smiled lazily, feeling the familiar satisfaction of a full stomach. “Thanks, Mom. I feel great. I think I might take a nap after this.”

“Go ahead, darling,” she replied, smiling to herself. “You’ve earned it.”

And so, they continued their life together, both content in their own ways. Dave, getting bigger with every passing day, and Anna, watching him with adoration, proud of how she had kept him close, protected, and happy—neither of them ever questioning whether this was the right path. They had found their rhythm, and it felt just right.

-Part 3-

As time passed, Anna’s control over Dave’s life grew even more pronounced. He had become almost entirely absorbed in his routine, and the world outside of the house had started to fade into the background. His focus was narrow—food, television, and video games. His once vibrant ambitions had shrunk into a simple existence: eat, relax, and play.

Anna had fully embraced this lifestyle, delighted by the way Dave seemed to thrive in his comfort zone. She continued to shower him with food—large portions of pizza, mountains of fries, giant bowls of ice cream, and endless snacks. Every meal was bigger than the last, and Anna made sure that it was exactly what Dave loved. The more he ate, the more content he seemed, and the more Anna cherished the time they spent together in their little bubble.

Dave’s friends began to notice the change, but he didn’t care. They would invite him out to hang out or play sports, but his response was always the same: "I’m good. I’ve got games and snacks here." He could hear the concern in their voices when they tried to talk to him about getting healthier or taking care of himself, but he didn’t pay them any attention. Everything he needed was right in front of him. Why would he want to go anywhere else?

His mind became increasingly focused on food. It wasn’t just about the satisfaction of eating anymore—it was almost an obsession. He would find himself thinking about what he’d eat next while still in the middle of a meal. His stomach, always full, seemed to want more, and he was happy to give in to it. Sometimes, he’d call out for his mom while he was playing a game or watching TV, his voice muffled by the excitement of whatever was on screen.

"Mom, can you bring me some chips? And maybe a soda too?" he'd yell, without even pausing his game.

Anna, never one to disappoint, would rush to the kitchen and prepare his request, bringing it right to him without hesitation. She would set it down on the table beside him, smiling as he muttered his thanks before digging into the snacks. She loved seeing him so content, his eyes glued to the screen, his focus entirely on the game. It was as if the world had shrunk to just him and the screen in front of him, and he never had to leave the comfort of his home.

It wasn’t just the video games. When the TV was on, Dave would stay fixed on it for hours, reaching for more food as soon as he finished one snack. Anna was more than happy to bring him whatever he wanted, making sure he had everything he needed to stay glued to his seat. She had no desire for him to be active—why would she? The more time he spent inside, the less likely he would ever want to leave.

Sometimes, Anna would watch him from the doorway, marveling at how much he had changed. He had become larger and larger, his body sagging with the weight of his indulgence. His face had softened, his once-toned arms now thick and heavy. But in her eyes, he was perfect. He was hers—no longer interested in the outside world, completely content with his life of ease. The more he ate, the more dependent he became on her. The more time he spent on the couch, the less likely he was to leave.

It was a twisted cycle, but neither Dave nor Anna could see it for what it was. Anna had successfully created a life that revolved around her, where Dave didn’t need anyone or anything else. He didn’t question it, and neither did she. All that mattered was that he was with her, content, and never wanting to leave.

"Mom," Dave called out one evening, his voice muffled by the sound of his game. "Can you bring me that extra pizza I like? And maybe a bag of those cheesy puffs? I’m starving."

Anna, her heart swelling with affection, smiled and went to fulfill his request. She was happy to keep him like this—happy, comfortable, and ever dependent on her. She didn’t need him to be independent. In fact, the more he relied on her, the more she knew that he would never leave her side.

And so, the days blended together, each one a mirror of the last—food, TV, video games—and Anna, with a smile, watching as her son grew ever more comfortable in his world of indulgence, and her own grip on his life grew ever tighter.

-Part 4-

As the months wore on, Dave’s physical transformation became undeniable. His once-toned body had turned into a soft, round figure, his limbs growing thicker, his stomach stretching out further, his face more swollen and round with each passing day. He no longer had any desire to exercise, nor did he care to leave the comfort of his room. His life revolved around food, games, and TV—three things that filled him with contentment and made him feel safe and secure.

Anna, of course, continued to indulge him. She made sure the house was always stocked with his favorite foods, and it became routine for Dave to call out to her while playing games or watching TV, asking for more snacks, drinks, or meals. He was always hungry, or so it seemed, and Anna never hesitated to bring him whatever he asked for, watching with satisfaction as he devoured it all. The more Dave ate, the more he seemed to relax and settle deeper into his comfortable existence.

But there was one thing that began to slip as Dave’s lifestyle took its toll—basic hygiene. Dave had lost interest in the simple tasks he used to do, like showering. The idea of getting up, undressing, and standing under the water seemed like an unnecessary chore to him. His body grew more sluggish, and his hygiene suffered. Weeks would pass without him taking a shower, his body growing heavier and stickier with the weight of inactivity.

Anna, however, didn’t mind. She had grown used to his new routine and even felt a strange sense of satisfaction watching her son become more reliant on her. She would often glance at him sitting in front of the TV, his eyes glued to the screen, his hands holding a controller or a snack. Sometimes, she would notice the faint smell of body odor or the sweat that clung to his clothes, but instead of being bothered, she simply saw it as part of the new life they had together.

One evening, while Dave sat lazily on the couch, binge-watching a show and munching on chips, Anna walked over with a damp sponge and some soap. She had noticed that Dave hadn’t showered in over two weeks, and his body was starting to show the effects of his inattention. His hair was greasy, and his skin had an oily sheen, but instead of asking him to get up or take a shower, Anna took it upon herself to clean him while he remained seated, comfortable and content.

"Hey, sweetie, let me clean you up a bit," she said softly, her voice almost tender as she sat down beside him. Dave barely reacted, too engrossed in his game to even look at her. He gave a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment, his attention fully on the screen. Anna smiled warmly as she dipped the sponge in warm water and gently began wiping down his arms and neck, careful not to interrupt his game.

She moved slowly, methodically, making sure to scrub his skin gently, all while he sat there, eating and playing, never once thinking about the outside world or his personal care. Anna didn’t mind that he didn’t care to clean himself. In fact, she liked it. It was another way that he relied on her, another way she could care for him. She didn’t think it was strange at all to bathe her son like this—it felt normal to her. This was their life now, and Anna had accepted it completely.

As she cleaned him, Anna couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment. Watching Dave grow wider, more sedentary, and more dependent on her had become a kind of quiet joy. She had always wanted him close, always wanted to take care of him. And now, in her eyes, this was the ultimate form of care—taking care of him in every way, from feeding him to washing him, keeping him comfortable and happy.

After she finished wiping down his arms and neck, she moved to his legs, then his back. Dave barely noticed her efforts, but that didn’t matter to Anna. She was content just being there, keeping him in his comfortable world. She never pressured him to get more active or to care about his hygiene. The more he needed her, the better she felt.

She finished with his back and stood up, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder. "There you go, sweetheart," she said with a smile. "You’re all clean now."

Dave barely responded, his focus still fixed on his game. "Thanks, Mom," he muttered absentmindedly, not truly aware of the depth of Anna’s devotion.

Anna walked away, her heart warm, watching him as he continued to indulge in his life of comfort. She was fine with it—more than fine. She had him right where she wanted him: safe, close, and completely dependent on her.

-Part 5-

Dave’s days blurred into an endless cycle of indulgence. His life revolved around the food his mother lovingly prepared for him and the endless supply of snacks she always kept within reach. He no longer thought about the world outside their home. College, friends, or any notion of independence had faded from his mind entirely. His life had become a constant stream of eating, drinking, gaming, and watching TV.

As Dave grew larger, his appetite seemed insatiable. Every passing week, Anna noticed how much more he could eat. What used to be a single pizza was now two. A family-sized bag of chips was gone in minutes. He drank soda like water, leaving behind empty cans that Anna would collect with a smile, eager to keep everything clean for him. She delighted in his growing dependency on her and the way his size filled more of the couch with each passing day.

One afternoon, Anna walked into the living room to find Dave reclined in his usual spot, surrounded by the remnants of his latest feast. Empty wrappers, greasy boxes, and crumpled napkins littered the coffee table. His belly rested heavily on his lap, rising and falling with every breath, and his fingers lazily navigated the controls of his video game.

“Mom,” he called out, not even looking away from the screen, “can you bring me another soda? And maybe some of those donuts from the kitchen?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Anna replied warmly, heading to the kitchen to fulfill his request. She returned moments later with a tray loaded with a two-liter bottle of soda, a plate piled high with donuts, and a tub of ice cream. Setting it down beside him, she watched with satisfaction as he immediately dug in, his attention still on the TV.

Dave’s eating had become constant. There was no longer a concept of “mealtime” for him—he simply ate whenever he wanted, which was almost all the time. Anna encouraged it, ensuring there was always something ready for him. She had even started bringing food to him preemptively, knowing that he would eventually ask for it anyway.

With every bite, Dave seemed to sink deeper into his sedentary lifestyle. His body grew wider, softer, and heavier. His movements were slower now; even getting up to use the bathroom felt like a chore. But he didn’t mind. In fact, he loved the comfort of it all. The food tasted amazing, the games kept him entertained, and his mother took care of everything else. Life was easy, and he saw no reason to change.

Anna, too, was happier than ever. She loved watching her son enjoy the life she had created for him. She took pride in every pound he gained, every meal he devoured. It brought her joy to see him so comfortable, so reliant on her care. She didn’t worry about his health or his future—those thoughts never crossed her mind. All that mattered was that he was happy and close to her.

One evening, as Dave polished off a third plate of fried chicken, he leaned back on the couch and sighed contentedly. “This is the life,” he murmured, reaching for his soda. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Anna replied, her voice full of affection. She stood in the doorway, watching him with pride as he reached for another donut. His world had shrunk to the size of their living room, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dave’s size continued to increase, but neither he nor Anna cared. For him, life was about food and comfort. For her, it was about keeping him happy and dependent. And as the days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, Dave kept eating, drinking, and growing, content in the cozy bubble Anna had built around him.

-Part 6-

Dave’s transformation was now undeniable. His once average frame had ballooned into a massive, heavyset figure that filled nearly the entire couch he rarely left. His body was no longer just soft; it had expanded in every direction. His belly had become an enormous, sagging dome that spilled out over his lap, forcing his legs apart as it grew heavier and rounder. His love handles hung low on either side of him, their sheer size making his entire midsection look like a flowing mass of softness.

His back was now a cascade of fat rolls, each one thicker than the last, and his arms and legs were nearly immobile with how much they had grown. His fingers, once nimble enough to handle video game controllers with ease, were now swollen and sausage-like, clumsily pressing buttons as he played, crumbs often clinging to his triple chin. His neck had vanished entirely, replaced by layers of fat that merged into his shoulders, giving him an appearance of complete indulgence.

Anna, of course, was thrilled. She had never imagined that her son could grow so large, so dependent on her care, and yet, here he was, a living testament to her devotion. Every inch he widened, every pound he gained, was proof of how much he enjoyed her cooking and the life she had created for him. She loved the sight of him sitting there, his body practically enveloping the couch, surrounded by empty wrappers and plates.

Each day, Anna took it upon herself to ensure that Dave was never without food. She prepared mountains of pancakes in the morning, served with heaps of butter and syrup. Lunch was an endless parade of fried foods—burgers, fries, chicken wings, and more. Dinner was no different, always followed by dessert: entire cakes, trays of cookies, or multiple bowls of ice cream. In between meals, snacks were always within reach, from bags of chips to candy bars and pastries.

Dave barely noticed how much he had grown. His world revolved around the food Anna brought him, the games he played, and the shows he watched. He was so accustomed to the routine that he rarely thought about anything else. His body was now so heavy that even the simplest movements felt like monumental tasks. Getting up to go to the bathroom left him winded, and he would often call out to Anna to help him with things he could no longer do on his own.

One day, as Dave sat in his usual spot, a massive tray of lasagna in front of him, Anna walked over and knelt beside him. Her eyes sparkled with pride as she looked at her son’s massive form, her hands resting on the side of his belly. She gave it a soft pat, feeling the sheer weight and size of him, and smiled.

“You’re growing so big, sweetheart,” she said warmly, her voice filled with affection. “I’m so proud of you.”

Dave grinned lazily, taking another bite of lasagna. “Thanks, Mom. I couldn’t do it without you,” he mumbled, his words muffled by the food in his mouth.

Anna chuckled, her heart swelling with joy. She reached over to adjust the tray in front of him, making sure he could reach every corner of the dish without straining himself. As she did, she noticed how his love handles now nearly touched the sides of the couch, and how his belly pushed his fat thighs apart so far they could no longer touch.

“You’re perfect just the way you are,” Anna said softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Now, finish up. I made a cheesecake for dessert.”

Dave’s eyes lit up at the mention of cheesecake, and he dug back into the lasagna with renewed vigor. Anna stood back, watching him eat with a satisfied smile. She loved every part of this life they had built together, every new roll and curve that her son’s body had gained. He was her pride and joy, and she was more than happy to keep him happy, comfortable, and growing.

-Part 7-

Dave had fully surrendered to the life of comfort and indulgence that Anna had so carefully cultivated for him. Food was no longer just something he enjoyed—it had become his ultimate source of comfort, his escape, his entire world. Each bite brought a sense of peace and satisfaction, and he leaned into it more with every passing day.

His body had grown so large that it now seemed to dominate the living room, and his shape was nearly unrecognizable from what it had once been. His love handles, once mere folds of softness, now stretched out wide enough to press against the arms of the couch. They bulged heavily on either side of him, forming a cushion of fat that anchored him in place. His belly had become monumental, sagging low and forward until it rested heavily on the floor between his legs. The sheer size of it forced his thighs farther apart than ever, leaving him perpetually spread out, his body taking up more space than even Anna could have imagined.

As for his face, his triple chin had deepened into a fourth roll, a cascade of fat that blended seamlessly into his neck and chest. It gave him an almost immovable appearance, and he rarely turned his head anymore, finding it easier to just move his eyes or wait for Anna to adjust things for him. His cheeks were so plump they seemed to encroach on his vision, and his lips were often smeared with remnants of whatever he was eating at the moment.

Anna watched it all with a sense of pride and contentment. She loved the sight of her son growing bigger, wider, and more dependent on her with every passing day. His size was a testament to her love and care, to the life she had created for him where he never had to want for anything. She had designed a world where Dave could be happy, comfortable, and free from the burdens of independence—and she had succeeded.

One afternoon, as Dave sat in his usual spot, surrounded by piles of wrappers and empty plates, Anna brought out his latest meal: an entire roasted chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and a plate of dinner rolls dripping with melted butter. She carefully placed the tray in front of him, adjusting it so it rested on his massive stomach, which acted as a natural table.

“Here you go, sweetie,” she said with a warm smile, brushing a crumb from his chin. “Eat up. I’ve got a chocolate cake cooling in the kitchen for dessert.”

Dave’s eyes lit up, and he let out a satisfied grunt as he reached for the chicken. “Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled, tearing into it with slow, deliberate bites. Each mouthful seemed to bring him closer to a state of bliss, his focus entirely on the food in front of him.

As he ate, Anna sat beside him, her eyes tracing the contours of his enormous body. His belly, now so heavy it rubbed against the floor whenever he shifted, rose and fell with his labored breathing. She reached over and gave it a gentle pat, her hand sinking into the soft, pliable flesh.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice full of pride. “You’re so comfortable, aren’t you?”

Dave nodded, his mouth full of chicken. “Yeah,” he managed between bites. “This is... perfect.”

Anna smiled, leaning back to watch him eat. She knew there was no turning back now, and she didn’t want there to be. Dave was exactly where she wanted him: safe, happy, and utterly dependent on her. His growing size, his love for food, and his complete surrender to this life were all signs of the bond they shared.

As the weeks went on, Dave’s shape continued to expand. His love handles began to spill over the edges of the couch entirely, his belly flattened further against the floor, and his fourth chin deepened, threatening to merge into a fifth. But none of that mattered to him or Anna. Food was comfort, and comfort was all they needed.

And so, their routine continued: Anna cooking and doting, Dave eating and growing, both of them content in their shared world of indulgence and unconditional love.

-Part 8-

The living room had become Dave’s entire world—a fortress of comfort and indulgence where every moment revolved around his insatiable appetite. By now, his body had surpassed even Anna’s most ambitious expectations. His immobility was a natural consequence of his size, and Anna had taken on every aspect of his care with pride and love. To her, he wasn’t just her son anymore; he was her life’s purpose, her greatest creation, and her pride.

That afternoon, after Dave had finished his fourth massive lunch—a meal that could have fed a dozen people—he leaned back into the overburdened couch with a satisfied groan. His belly, impossibly large and heavy, rested heavily on the floor in front of him, spreading outward like a vast cushion of fat. The room was filled with the smell of fried chicken, buttery pasta, and the remnants of desserts Anna had prepared earlier in the day.

Dave shifted slightly, causing his massive body to wobble, and let out a loud, rumbling fart that echoed through the room. He chuckled lazily, patting his enormous belly with one sausage-like hand. “Oops,” he muttered with a sleepy grin, too full and content to care. “Guess I’m really stuffed, huh?”

Anna, who had been collecting empty plates and trays from the table beside him, turned with a warm smile. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she said softly. “That just means you enjoyed your meal.” She set the plates aside and walked over to him, her hands reaching out to rest gently on his enormous belly. The sheer size of it never ceased to amaze her; it stretched out in every direction, soft and warm under her touch, a testament to months of indulgence and care.

She knelt beside him, her hands pressing gently into the soft folds of his stomach, and began to rub in slow, circular motions. “Let me help you relax, darling,” she said, her voice full of tenderness. “You’ve worked so hard eating all that food. You deserve to feel good.”

Dave let out a contented sigh, his eyelids drooping as he leaned further into the couch. The sensation of Anna’s hands kneading his heavy belly was pure bliss. The pressure relieved the tightness from his most recent feast, and he couldn’t help but let out soft, satisfied noises as she worked. His body, completely at rest, sank deeper into the cushions, his limbs motionless except for the occasional twitch of his fingers.

Anna’s hands moved with care, tracing the massive curves of his belly and gently massaging the folds that had formed along its sides. She worked her way down to the underside, where his gut pressed heavily against his fattened thighs, then back up to the top, where it rose like a hill in front of him. She could feel the heat radiating from his overfed body, and it filled her with pride to know she had nurtured him to this state.

“You’re my good boy,” she murmured as she continued to rub, her voice almost a whisper. “So big, so happy, so perfect. I’m so proud of you.”

Dave grunted in response, too blissed-out to form coherent words. His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing deep and slow as he let himself sink completely into the moment. The only sounds in the room were the low hum of the TV, the soft squishing of Anna’s hands against his belly, and the occasional gurgle from his ever-hungry stomach.

After a while, his belly let out a deep growl, a sign that his body was already preparing for its next meal. Dave cracked one eye open and gave Anna a sheepish look. “I think I’m starting to get hungry again,” he said with a faint chuckle, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Anna laughed gently, patting his belly one last time before standing up. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” she said with a smile. “I’ll get started on dinner right away. How about we make it something special? A roast with all the sides, and maybe a pie or two for dessert?”

Dave’s face lit up at the thought, and he nodded eagerly, his chins wobbling with the movement. “Yeah, that sounds amazing,” he said, his voice filled with excitement despite his sluggish state.

Anna leaned down and kissed his cheek. “You just sit tight, sweetheart. I’ll take care of everything.” She turned and headed to the kitchen, her heart swelling with joy as she began to prepare the feast. For Anna, there was no greater happiness than seeing her son content, immobile, and ever-growing, and she was more than happy to keep him that way.

-Part 9-

Dave’s world had become a kingdom of pure indulgence, where every moment revolved around food, comfort, and care. As the weeks turned into months, his appetite seemed to defy all logic. His stomach, once stretched to its limits after a meal, now seemed capable of holding more food with each passing day. Anna delighted in watching him grow, not just in size but in the sheer magnitude of his dependency and contentment.

By now, Dave’s body was a monument to excess. His belly had evolved into an overwhelming dome of fat that dominated his figure and his surroundings. It sagged forward with such mass that it rested on every surface within reach—his lap, his knees, the couch, and even the floor. The massive expanse of his stomach spread out before him like an immovable force, its sheer weight keeping him firmly anchored in place. It jiggled slightly with every breath he took, rising and falling like a heavy tide.

When Dave ate, his belly expanded further, pressing outward until it seemed to defy the space around him. On particularly indulgent evenings, such as during his fifth dinner, his stomach would creep forward to the very edge of the coffee table in front of him, nearly brushing against the plates and trays of food Anna had prepared. It was as if his body were growing to match the feast he consumed, stretching and sagging with each passing bite.

Anna couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of him. Her son was no longer just a person—he was a figure of pure comfort and indulgence, filling the room with his presence. She had to shuffle carefully around the couch to tend to him, bringing tray after tray of food to satisfy his endless hunger. His arms, now buried in layers of fat, moved sluggishly as he ate, while his fingers, thick and sausage-like, gripped his utensils with surprising determination.

“Here’s the next plate, sweetheart,” Anna said one evening, placing a tray of ribs, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese on the table. She adjusted it carefully so that it rested just inches from where his belly swelled toward the edge.

Dave looked up from his fourth plate, his cheeks full and his chins wobbling as he spoke. “Thanks, Mom,” he said between bites, already reaching for the next serving. His eyes lit up at the sight of the ribs, and he wasted no time diving in, his focus entirely on the food in front of him.

As he ate, his body seemed to expand even more. His belly pressed harder against his thighs, spreading out further across his lap and sinking lower toward the floor. The folds of his love handles spilled out to either side, nearly touching the arms of the couch. His shoulders, thick with layers of fat, slumped slightly as he leaned forward to reach for another helping. Every part of him was immense, a living embodiment of indulgence and comfort.

Anna stood nearby, her hands resting on her hips as she watched him eat. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her son enjoying himself so thoroughly. “You’re doing so well, my big boy,” she said softly, her voice filled with pride. “You’re really growing into yourself.”

Dave chuckled between bites, his voice muffled by food. “Yeah… feels good,” he said, his words slow and lazy. “Thanks for everything, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Anna replied, stepping closer to adjust his tray. She placed a gentle hand on the side of his belly, feeling its warmth and softness beneath her fingers. “I love taking care of you. You deserve it.”

As the evening went on, Dave continued to eat, his belly inching closer to the coffee table with every bite. Anna refilled his plates as needed, ensuring that he never had to wait for more. By the time he finished his fifth dinner, his stomach was so full and heavy that it seemed to press outward in every direction, dominating the space around him.

Leaning back into the couch, Dave let out a deep, satisfied sigh, his hands resting atop his massive belly. “That was… perfect,” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping as he sank into a food coma.

Anna smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’re perfect,” she said softly, patting his belly before gathering the empty plates. As she carried them to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Her son had grown into everything she had hoped for—content, dependent, and completely at peace in the life she had built for him.

-Part 10-

The outside world had become nothing more than a distant memory for Dave. His days were now an unbroken cycle of eating, resting, and growing, each moment dedicated to the indulgent lifestyle Anna had so lovingly provided. The once-active boy was now an immovable giant, his body having grown so vast that even the simple act of gaming—once his greatest pastime—felt like too much effort compared to the constant bliss of eating.

Dave’s arms, now thick and heavy with layers of fat, had grown so wide that he could no longer bring them close enough together to hold a controller properly. The act of gaming had become a distant second to the comfort of sitting back, letting Anna feed him, and basking in the endless stream of food she provided. His sausage-like fingers had lost their dexterity, making even the idea of holding the controller seem pointless.

“Gaming takes too much energy anyway,” Dave mumbled one evening, his voice slow and lazy as he leaned back into the couch. His enormous body spread across the furniture like an ocean of soft, pliable fat, his belly spilling out in every direction. It had grown so large that it now completely enveloped his lap, sagging heavily onto the couch and the floor. Even when Anna brought the coffee table closer to accommodate his growing size, his belly almost touched its edge, leaving little room for anything else.

Anna, standing nearby with a fresh tray of food, smiled warmly at her son. She placed the tray—a feast of fried chicken, garlic bread, and a towering milkshake—on the table and adjusted it so he could reach without moving. “That’s alright, sweetheart,” she said softly, brushing a hand across his flushed cheek. “You don’t need to do anything but relax and enjoy yourself.”

Dave nodded, already reaching for a piece of chicken with one thick hand. “Thanks, Mom,” he muttered between bites, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth. “You’re the best.”

As he ate, Anna stood back and admired the sheer size of him. His arms rested heavily on the sides of his belly, their movement slow and deliberate as he shoveled food into his mouth. His once-muscular shoulders had long since disappeared beneath layers of fat, and his neck had been replaced entirely by rolls that merged seamlessly into his chins, now on their way to forming a fifth. His body was a massive, unmovable monument of indulgence, his every breath slow and labored, his eyes half-lidded in a state of perpetual satisfaction.

“More milkshake, darling?” Anna asked, stepping forward to hold the straw to his lips.

Dave nodded eagerly, wrapping his lips around the straw and sucking down the thick, sugary drink. His eyes closed as he let out a satisfied hum, the simple act of drinking bringing him pure bliss. When he finished, Anna gently wiped the corners of his mouth and patted his belly, which gurgled softly in response.

“You’re doing so well,” Anna said, her voice full of pride. She placed a hand on the side of his belly, feeling its warmth and weight beneath her fingers. It had grown so massive that it pressed against the sides of the couch and spilled over onto the floor, its sheer size making it impossible for Dave to move on his own.

Dave let out a soft grunt, his eyes fluttering shut as he sank deeper into the couch. “Feels good,” he mumbled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I like… just eating.”

“And that’s exactly what you should do,” Anna replied, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You’re my big boy, and I love taking care of you.”

As the days passed, Dave’s body continued to expand, his size outpacing even Anna’s expectations. His immobility became absolute, his life revolving entirely around the food Anna brought him and the comfort of his ever-growing body. The outside world had long since forgotten him, but within the walls of their home, Dave had found his paradise—and Anna, her purpose.

-Part 11-

Dave’s 19th birthday was a milestone unlike any other. The once-vibrant young man had grown so impossibly large that his world consisted entirely of the couch, his ever-growing body, and the meals Anna lovingly prepared for him. His transformation was now absolute; his body had reached a size so monumental that even the simplest acts, like chewing or speaking, were beyond his ability.

His cheeks had swollen to the point of nearly obscuring his eyes, their plush mass merging into his colossal six-roll chin, which sagged heavily down to his chest. His mouth, now small and almost lost in the sea of flesh, was barely functional, unable to accommodate the movements needed for chewing. His fingers, thick and swollen like sausages, had long since lost their ability to grip or hold anything, leaving him entirely reliant on Anna for everything.

Anna had anticipated this day and prepared accordingly. She knew her immobile son, her pride and joy, could no longer eat solid foods. So, she had blended all of his favorite meals into rich, calorie-packed shakes, ensuring he could still enjoy the tastes he loved without the effort of chewing.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Anna cooed as she entered the living room, carrying a large blender filled with a creamy mixture of chocolate cake, whipped cream, melted ice cream, and crushed cookies. She set the blender down on the coffee table, which had been pushed closer to accommodate the ever-expanding mass of Dave’s belly, now resting heavily on the couch, the floor, and the table’s edge.

Dave’s tiny eyes blinked lazily, his cheeks jiggling slightly as he attempted a smile. “Mmmph…” was all he could manage, his voice muffled by the layers of fat surrounding his face.

Anna smiled warmly, her heart swelling with pride as she looked at her son. “I know, darling. You’re my big, strong boy, and today is all about you.” She adjusted the straw she had fitted into the blender and held it to his lips, guiding it gently as he began to drink.

The sound of slow, rhythmic slurping filled the room as Dave consumed the thick shake, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. His massive body seemed to relax even further, sinking deeper into the couch as the rich flavors filled his mouth. Anna watched him with a mixture of admiration and pride, her hand resting on the side of his enormous belly, which gurgled softly as it processed the high-calorie treat.

“You’re doing so well, sweetie,” Anna said softly, stroking the warm, pliable flesh of his stomach. “Just keep drinking. Mommy’s got plenty more where that came from.”

Dave’s swollen hands twitched slightly, his fingers attempting to grasp at the air but failing to move more than an inch. His body had grown so heavy that even small movements were a struggle, but he didn’t mind. The comfort of his mother’s care, the endless supply of food, and the feeling of being utterly pampered were all he needed.

As he finished the first blender, Anna replaced it with another, this one filled with a savory blend of mac and cheese, fried chicken, and gravy. She alternated between sweet and savory, ensuring that Dave’s every craving was satisfied. His stomach, now a massive dome that seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, groaned and gurgled with contentment as it expanded to accommodate the feast.

“You’re my perfect boy,” Anna murmured, leaning down to kiss his cheek, her lips sinking into the plush softness. “So big, so handsome, so happy. I’m so proud of you.”

Dave let out a muffled grunt of agreement, his tiny mouth still wrapped around the straw. He didn’t need to speak; his contented expression and the slow, steady rhythm of his drinking said it all.

As the day went on, Anna continued to feed her son, marveling at his size and the life they had built together. To her, Dave was the epitome of happiness and fulfillment, a living testament to her care and devotion. And for Dave, there was no better way to celebrate his birthday than by doing what he loved most—eating, relaxing, and basking in the warmth of his mother’s love.

-Part 12-

The weeks following Dave’s 19th birthday marked a quiet but noticeable shift in his life. He had continued to grow, his body expanding further in every direction as he sank deeper into the comforts of his immobility. The shakes Anna prepared for him had become his only source of sustenance, each one carefully crafted to keep him happy, full, and utterly dependent.

But as he drank his endless meals, Dave began to notice a dull, persistent ache in his chest. At first, it was faint, a slight discomfort that surfaced as he sucked down yet another calorie-laden shake. But over time, the pain became more noticeable—a tightness that pressed against his chest like a warning bell.

One afternoon, as he sat reclined on the couch with Anna holding a blender of liquid cheeseburgers to his lips, the ache flared up again. He paused mid-slurp, his tiny, buried eyes blinking as he let out a low, muffled groan.

Anna immediately noticed. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked, her tone warm but laced with curiosity. She set the blender down on the table and leaned closer, her hands resting on the sides of his massive belly. “Is something bothering you?”

Dave hesitated, his cheeks jiggling as he tried to form words. “Mm… chest feels… tight,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his swollen face.

Anna’s eyes flickered with a moment of concern, but it quickly faded into a soft smile. She patted his belly reassuringly, her fingers sinking into its warm, pliable surface. “Oh, it’s probably nothing, darling,” she said gently. “You’ve been growing so much lately—your body’s just adjusting to all the love and care I’ve been giving you.”

Dave nodded slightly, the movement causing his chins to wobble. He didn’t want to press the issue. The thought of going to a doctor, of leaving the safety and comfort of his couch, was unthinkable. He didn’t want anything to disrupt the life he loved—the constant stream of food, the pampering, the warmth of his mother’s care.

And Anna knew that. Deep down, she understood that the pain in his chest wasn’t something to be ignored. She saw how his breathing had grown heavier, how his heart seemed to labor beneath the weight of his immense body. But to her, it wasn’t a reason to slow down. If anything, it was proof of how much her son needed her. A body like his, so large and vulnerable, required constant attention and care. And that was exactly what Anna wanted—to be the center of his world, to keep him dependent on her for everything.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, my big boy,” Anna said, lifting the blender back to his lips. “Mommy’s here to take care of you. Just keep drinking, and let me handle everything else.”

Dave let out a soft grunt of agreement, opening his mouth to accept the straw. The ache in his chest lingered, but the rich, savory taste of the shake quickly distracted him. He drank deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as he focused on the familiar comfort of eating.

Anna watched him with a mixture of pride and satisfaction. Her son had grown so dependent on her, so perfectly content in the life she had created for him. She knew his health was fragile, but that only deepened her sense of purpose. A body like his, so massive and helpless, needed constant care and attention. And she was more than happy to provide it.

As the days turned into weeks, the pain in Dave’s chest became a regular occurrence. But he never complained, and Anna never brought it up. Instead, she focused on keeping him happy and comfortable, ensuring that his every need was met. To her, Dave’s size and dependence were a testament to her love and devotion, and she had no intention of changing a thing.

For Dave, the ache in his chest was a small price to pay for the life he cherished. As long as he had his shakes, his comfort, and his mother’s care, nothing else mattered.

-Part 13-

Dave's chest continued to ache, a deep and persistent discomfort that came and went as he sank further into his indulgent life. At first, he would pause and grunt in pain during his endless meals, but over time, he stopped paying it much attention. His immobility and dependence on Anna had become his entire existence, and he trusted her implicitly. The pain didn’t matter as long as the shakes kept coming and he remained wrapped in the comfort of his mother's care.

Anna, however, never missed a beat. She noticed every wince, every muffled groan as Dave drank his rich, calorie-laden shakes. Whenever the pain struck, she would spring into action, her face a mask of feigned concern. “Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed one afternoon, setting down a blender filled with a thick milkshake blend of pancakes, syrup, and melted butter. She leaned over her son, her hands sinking into the folds of his chest as she began to massage the soft, swollen flesh.

“Does it hurt, baby?” she asked, her tone soft and soothing. Her hands worked carefully, kneading his chest as if to ease the ache. In truth, she wasn’t trying to stop the pain—it was just another reminder of how much her immobile, oversized son needed her. “Mommy’s here to make it all better.”

Dave let out a low, contented grunt, his tiny, buried eyes fluttering shut. The pressure in his chest seemed to ease under her touch, and the comfort of her warm hands made him feel safe. “Mm… thanks, Mom,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible beneath the weight of his fat cheeks and chins.

Anna smiled, her hands continuing to work over the massive expanse of his chest. She marveled at how much he had grown, the soft rolls and folds of his body spreading out in every direction. His chest, once firm and strong, was now two massive pillows of fat that rested heavily on his belly, merging seamlessly into the folds of his arms and neck.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, my big boy,” Anna said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “That’s Mommy’s job. Your job is to relax and enjoy yourself. Just focus on drinking your shakes and letting me take care of everything else.”

Dave nodded slightly, his cheeks jiggling with the movement. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice slow and slurred. He opened his mouth, and Anna brought the blender back to his lips, guiding the straw into place.

“Good boy,” Anna said softly as he began to drink. She watched him with a mixture of pride and adoration, her hand resting on his belly as it rose and fell with each labored breath. The dull ache in his chest didn’t stop him from drinking deeply, the rich, sugary shake sliding down his throat as he let out a muffled hum of satisfaction.

As the weeks went on, Anna made a habit of massaging his chest whenever the pain struck, using it as an opportunity to reinforce his dependence on her. “You don’t need to worry about a thing,” she would say, her voice dripping with affection as she kneaded his soft flesh. “You’re my perfect boy, and I’ll always take care of you.”

For Dave, her words were a source of endless comfort. He didn’t need to think about the pain, about his growing immobility, or about anything outside the walls of their home. His life revolved around the delicious shakes Anna prepared for him, the soothing touch of her hands, and the warmth of her love.

And for Anna, each moment spent caring for her son only deepened her sense of purpose. She loved watching him grow, seeing his body expand with each passing day. The pain in his chest was just another reminder of how much he needed her, and she relished every opportunity to care for him. As far as she was concerned, their life was perfect just the way it was.

-Part 14-

Dave’s body continued its unrelenting growth, each day marking a new milestone in size and immobility. His torso, once the sturdy frame of an active young man, had transformed into an immense, sprawling mass of flesh. Every part of him—his arms, his legs, his belly—grew thicker, softer, and heavier, until even the slightest movement was impossible. His world was now entirely defined by the comfort of his couch, the endless stream of shakes, and the constant care of his mother.

But as his body expanded, so did the aches and pains that came with it. The dull ache that had started in his chest had now spread to his upper belly, a deep, pressing discomfort that flared up whenever he drank his beloved shakes. It was a slow, creeping pain that seemed to grow alongside him, but Dave didn’t complain. He had long since stopped thinking of the aches as a problem. After all, Anna was always there to soothe him, her gentle hands working tirelessly to keep him comfortable.

One afternoon, as Dave was halfway through a massive shake made of blended lasagna, garlic bread, and melted cheese, the pain in his upper belly flared again. He let out a low groan, his tiny eyes closing as he paused mid-slurp.

Anna was by his side in an instant. “Oh, sweetheart, is it hurting again?” she asked, her voice filled with concern as she set the blender down on the coffee table.

Dave gave a slow, labored nod, his chins quivering with the movement. “Mmm… hurts… here,” he mumbled, his swollen hand twitching weakly in the general direction of his upper belly.

Anna smiled softly, leaning over to place her hands on the massive dome of his torso. His belly had grown so large that it now spilled over his thighs and rested heavily on the floor, its sheer size making it impossible for him to move. The upper part of his belly, where the pain seemed to radiate from, was taut and warm beneath her hands, the skin stretched tight over the layers of fat beneath.

“Don’t worry, my big boy,” Anna murmured, her fingers sinking into the soft folds of his torso as she began to massage him. “Mommy’s here. I’ll make it all better.”

Her hands moved slowly and carefully, kneading the massive expanse of his belly and chest. The motion was rhythmic and soothing, her fingers working over every inch of his upper body. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the gentle gurgling of his stomach as it processed the enormous amounts of food he consumed each day.

Dave let out a soft grunt, his body relaxing under her touch. The pain in his upper belly began to fade, replaced by the familiar comfort of his mother’s care. “Feels… better,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he sank deeper into the couch.

“That’s my good boy,” Anna said softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You just focus on relaxing, okay? Let Mommy take care of everything.”

Dave nodded weakly, his tiny mouth opening slightly as he let out a contented sigh. The pain was still there, a dull ache that lingered in the background, but it didn’t matter. As long as Anna was there to take care of him, to soothe him and feed him and make him feel loved, nothing else mattered.

Anna, for her part, felt a deep sense of satisfaction as she massaged her son’s massive torso. She loved the feeling of his warm, heavy body beneath her hands, the way his size seemed to fill the entire room. To her, Dave was perfect—a living testament to her love and devotion. The pain he felt was just another reminder of how much he needed her, and she relished the opportunity to care for him.

“You’re getting so big, my sweet boy,” Anna said as she picked up the blender and held the straw to his lips. “But don’t you worry. Mommy will always be here to take care of you.”

Dave began to drink again, the rich, savory shake sliding down his throat as his mother’s hands continued to work over his torso. The pain in his belly faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of her love and the comfort of his endless feast. For both of them, life was exactly as it should be.

-Part 15-

Dave’s days blurred together in a haze of shakes, comfort, and immobility. The life he lived was singularly focused: drink, rest, grow, and let his mother take care of everything. The shakes were constant, their flavors rich and indulgent, each one crafted by Anna to ensure they delivered the highest calories possible. What had started as 5 or 6 shakes a day had now climbed to over 15, the number rising steadily as his appetite seemed to grow insatiable.

Each shake was consumed with mindless determination, the straw held firmly to his swollen lips by Anna as Dave drank deeply. His once-prodigious belly had now grown so large that it spilled over the coffee table, completely engulfing it. What had once been a sturdy piece of furniture was now little more than a hidden platform beneath the massive, sagging dome of his belly. His torso, now wider than the couch itself, dominated the room, while his chin had swelled into a seventh roll, each fold blending seamlessly into his chest.

But with every pound he gained, with every inch his body expanded, new discomforts began to creep in. The ache in his chest and upper belly that had once been occasional now became a near-constant presence. Each deep gulp of a shake brought a dull, pressing pain that spread through his torso, leaving him groaning softly between drinks.

Anna noticed it all. She saw the way his face would wince, the way his breathing grew heavier, the way he would sometimes pause mid-drink, his tiny eyes filled with discomfort. But to her, the pain was a natural part of his transformation, a sign of just how much he had grown and how much he needed her.

One afternoon, as Dave was halfway through his twelfth shake of the day—a decadent blend of fried chicken, melted cheese, and mashed potatoes—he let out a low, pained groan, his hands twitching weakly at his sides.

“Hurts…” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the rolls of fat surrounding his face.

Anna immediately set the blender down and moved closer, her hands instinctively reaching for his massive belly. “Oh, sweetheart, does it hurt again?” she asked, her tone filled with gentle concern.

Dave nodded sluggishly, his chins wobbling with the motion. “Belly… tight…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he let out a labored sigh.

Anna’s hands began to massage his torso, her fingers sinking into the soft folds of his upper belly as she worked to ease the tension. “There, there, my big boy,” she cooed, her voice soothing. “Mommy’s here. Let me take care of you.”

As her hands moved over his massive form, Anna couldn’t help but marvel at just how much he had grown. His belly was a colossal expanse, its surface warm and taut, stretching further and further with each passing day. His arms, now so thick and heavy they barely moved, rested limply at his sides, while his legs were buried beneath the sheer weight of his lower body.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Anna said as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You’re getting so big, so strong. Mommy’s so proud of you.”

Dave let out a low, contented grunt, his eyes fluttering shut as he focused on the comforting touch of her hands. The pain in his belly began to fade, replaced by the familiar warmth of her care.

After a few moments, Anna picked up the blender and held it to his lips once more. “Now, let’s finish this shake, okay? You’re such a good boy, and Mommy made plenty more for you.”

Dave opened his mouth, the straw sliding between his lips as he began to drink again. The pain was still there, lingering in the background, but he didn’t care. As long as Anna was there to take care of him, to feed him and comfort him, nothing else mattered.

Anna watched him with pride, her hand resting on the side of his belly as it gurgled and groaned under the strain of another massive meal. To her, every shake he drank, every pound he gained, was a testament to her love and devotion. She knew the pain was a sign that his body was reaching its limits, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. After all, Dave was her perfect boy, and she would do whatever it took to keep him happy, comfortable, and growing.

-Part 16-

Months passed, and Dave's body reached a size that defied imagination. His entire form sprawled out across multiple pieces of furniture, the couch beneath him groaning under his immense weight while his belly spilled far beyond it, engulfing the coffee table and even encroaching upon the second couch where Anna usually sat. His immobility was absolute—every part of him had become a heavy, bloated mass of flesh, from his sausage-like fingers to his legs buried beneath countless folds.

Dave now consumed a staggering 20 full shakes a day, with an additional 15 smaller ones as “snacks” to tide him over between meals. Each shake was a concoction of grease, sugar, and calories, meticulously prepared by Anna to keep him growing at an alarming rate. The once mindless pleasure of drinking had now become a painful necessity, his body groaning in protest with every gulp.

The constant strain had taken its toll. His breath was labored, slow and wheezing, each inhale a monumental effort. His chest rose and fell heavily, the sound of his breathing filling the room alongside the soft gurgles of his overloaded stomach. His chin, now sporting its ninth roll, sagged so low that it practically merged with the folds of his chest, rendering even slight movements impossible.

Yet, despite the constant pain that wracked his body, Dave never complained. His world had shrunk to the size of the living room, his life revolving around the endless supply of shakes and the soothing touch of his mother. He had long since given up on thinking about anything beyond his immediate needs, his mind dulled by the monotony of his routine.

Anna, on the other hand, thrived. She pretended to fuss over him when his breathing grew too ragged or when he groaned in discomfort, her voice dripping with feigned concern. “Oh, sweetheart, does it hurt? Mommy’s here to make it better,” she would coo, her hands massaging his swollen belly or rubbing his chins.

But inside, she was filled with satisfaction. This was what she had always wanted—a son who was completely dependent on her, bound to her care by the sheer enormity of his body. She watched him with pride as he struggled to drink yet another shake, his fingers too swollen to grasp the straw, his body so vast it had swallowed the very furniture around him.

Anna often found herself gazing at him while preparing his next meal, a mixture of love and triumph in her eyes. She knew he would never leave her. His body couldn’t handle the outside world—it could barely handle existing as it was. “He’s mine forever,” she thought to herself as she blended another grotesque shake, this one filled with burgers, deep-fried chicken, mayonnaise, and a generous splash of cooking oil for extra calories.

As she brought the blender to him, she noticed his breaths were slower than usual, each one an audible struggle. “Here you go, my big boy,” she said softly, holding the straw to his lips. “Just one more, and you’ll feel so much better.”

Dave’s tiny, buried eyes flickered open, and he gave a faint grunt of acknowledgment. He parted his lips with difficulty, his ninth chin wobbling slightly as he began to drink. The shake was thick and heavy, its taste a blend of salt, grease, and richness that he could barely process anymore.

Anna watched him drink, her hand resting on the side of his massive belly. It was taut and warm beneath her touch, a testament to just how much he had grown. She felt his body shudder slightly as he swallowed, his overloaded system struggling to keep up with the demands placed on it.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Anna whispered, her voice soothing as she stroked his belly. “Mommy’s so proud of you.”

Dave let out a low, muffled groan, his body sinking deeper into the couch as he drank. The pain in his chest and stomach was constant now, a dull, heavy ache that never fully went away. But he didn’t care. As long as Anna was there to take care of him, to feed him and comfort him, nothing else mattered.

For Anna, each shake he drank, each pound he gained, was a victory. She knew his body was reaching its limits, but that only deepened her satisfaction. “He’ll never leave me,” she thought to herself, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “He couldn’t survive without me. And that’s exactly how it should be.”

-Part 17-

Dave had finally reached his absolute limit. His body, once recognizable as a young man, had transformed into an unthinkable mountain of flesh. Every inch of him was swollen beyond reason, his form now unrecognizable under the layers of fat that had consumed him. His belly, larger than ever, sprawled across the two couches, nearly consuming the second one entirely. It sagged so heavily that it pressed against the floor, its massive surface gurgling and groaning as it struggled to process the unrelenting flood of calories Anna forced upon him.

His moobs, each one larger than a person’s torso, rested heavily on his chest, compressing his lungs and making each breath a slow, wheezing struggle. His tiny, buried eyes could no longer see past the massive folds of his cheeks, which hung like curtains over what was once his face. His chin had grown into a tenth roll, so thick and heavy that it prevented him from even opening his mouth more than a crack. Anna now had to use a feeding tube to deliver his shakes, the straw long since rendered useless.

Dave's body was a constant symphony of discomfort, a chorus of groans, gurgles, and strained wheezes that filled the room. The pain was unimaginable—his skin stretched to its absolute limit, his organs under constant pressure from the sheer weight of his fat. Yet, despite the unbearable discomfort, he remained entirely dependent on Anna, unable to move, unable to protest, unable to do anything but exist as she saw fit.

Anna, for her part, was both triumphant and relentless. She stood over her son, watching his massive body with a twisted sense of pride. “You’ve done so well, my big boy,” she murmured, her voice soft yet dripping with cruel satisfaction. Her hands roamed over his immense form, her fingers sinking into the folds of his belly, his chest, his sides. She could feel his body struggling beneath her touch, the faint vibrations of his labored breathing and the deep gurgles of his overworked stomach.

“The more you drink, the more you suffer,” Anna whispered to him, her tone almost tender. “And the more you suffer, the more you need Mommy.” She smiled as she said it, her eyes gleaming with a perverse kind of love. She knew exactly what she had done to him, and she reveled in it. Dave would never leave her—not because he didn’t want to, but because he physically couldn’t. His body was entirely hers now, a monument to her control and devotion.

Anna moved to the blender, preparing yet another shake. This one was thicker than usual, a blend of fried bacon, melted butter, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup, with a few scoops of ice cream for good measure. She poured it into the feeding tube, watching as the thick liquid disappeared into her son’s unresisting body. Dave let out a low, muffled groan as the shake entered his stomach, his body shuddering slightly under the strain.

“There, there, sweetheart,” Anna cooed, her hand resting on his bloated belly as it churned and gurgled. “Mommy’s here. You don’t need to worry about anything. Just let me take care of you.”

Dave’s only response was a faint, wheezing sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as his body settled into its constant state of discomfort. He was too far gone to resist, too consumed by his dependence on her to even think of anything else. His life was an endless cycle of pain, food, and care, and he had resigned himself to it completely.

Anna sat back and admired her work, her heart swelling with pride. She knew she had pushed him to his limits, that his body was barely holding on. But that was exactly how she wanted it. The more he suffered, the more he needed her, and the more she could care for him. In her eyes, it was perfect—a bond that could never be broken, a life that would always revolve around her and her son.

“You’re my perfect boy,” Anna whispered, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “And I’ll take care of you forever.”

-End-

[the-masked-ram]

Never Late, Never On Time- Togame x GN!Reader drabble

A/N: this is the sfw festival drabble for @ficsforgaza sponsored by @sophiawhite0066 thanks so much for the sponsor and sorry for the slow post!

@interstellar-inn

Reminder I still have a lot of fics for gaza to available, tons of drabbles multichaps, and a couple drabble series. If you are interested in seeing a specific fandom I write for let me know and I might add a drabble to donation pile (this is not a request invitation)

CW: sfw, literally this is rare pure fluff from me(not even a kiss)

---

The warmth of the night was unusual for fall, the humidity not necessarily as uncommon. However, neither was necessarily unwelcome. It was easy to slip into the festival mood with the heat and the sparkling lanterns and lights strung through the stalls. The smell of sweetened soy sauce for dango mixed wonderfully with the salt of the more savory offerings like meat skewers and dried squid. It was hard not to let your senses pull you into the wonderland waiting just in front of you.

But you forced yourself to hang back, forced yourself to wait. You balanced carefully on the geta you were not used to, and for a moment you were jealous of Togame who would be used to this atmosphere and the clothing that came with it. Jo, the man you were meeting here, and just the thought had your fingers tightening in the light silk of your yukata. You were honestly glad you had forgone the under-robes you would normally wear for fall because tonight was too hot, and you were too nervous. You’d have sweated through the layers within moments.

You frowned as you checked the time and realized Togame was making you wait again. He was only five minutes late, but it was just so him. He would show up with one minute to spare before it rolled into fifteen minutes, spouting some bullshit about how he couldn’t be truly late until that minute hand ticked into the fifteen zone. You rolled your eyes even as you smirked, because though this was your first date together, nothing had truly changed.

You were looking at some masks when you felt the presence at your back, when a hand that had begun to grow familiar with the subtle brushes you'd been experiencing the last few weeks, settled into yours. His fingers tangled with yours, and you took a steadying breath as your lungs seized and heart thrashed.

“Hello, Jo,” you whispered.

“Hey, darling,” he responded, the smirk audible in his lazy voice. “Wait long?”

His words were barely a sentence, all slurred in his usual way that showed he had hardly any energy for anything that wasn’t fighting. Yet here he was, looking at you with those sleepy and adoring eyes as he slowly blinked life back into them. He’d found time in his napping schedule to spend on you yet again. Like always.

The thought did anything but calm your rebellious chest. Instead, everything inside it seemed to shudder as you looked at him back and felt a swooping pleasure take over your gut.

“Think it was ten minutes this time,” you said with a pout that was fighting to unfurl into a grin.

“Not late,” he responded as if he knew the thoughts you were entertaining just moments before.

That smile you’d been holding back finally took hold, turning your puffy lower lip smoother as your mouth curled. He returned the expression, though his was relaxed and half-assed that look in his eyes, however, was anything but. The one that both pinned you down and raised you higher. You breathed, taking in his scent of amber musk and the sugary bubbles of Ramune that always seemed to cling to him.

“If that’s what you say,” you answered with a laugh.

Those calloused fingers that you had grown to recognize grew tighter as he drew you closer. This was a first date, but so many things were unknown were Togame. Would he rush this? Would you be the reason he quickened his pace? You looked at him with wide and affectionate eyes and his gaze flickered down to your smiling lips.

No, he wouldn’t, but not because of his relaxed nature. There was plenty of heated desire festering beneath the surface of his green eyes. He wouldn’t hurry it along because he wanted the ache growing so sweetly in his chest to bloom until he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to own everything about you and, if that meant stringing those things he wanted to do for you, to do to you, out just a bit longer then he would. He was used to taking it slow and though everything in him screamed to take your soft waist in his wide grip and kiss you senseless now, he would make you need him with your heart and mind long before he claimed your body. Since you’d already stolen all of him.

“C’mon, I saw some dango over there,” he tilted his chin toward a stall.

“Shouldn’t we have something more like dinner,” you chided but followed him with a laugh that lit up your entire face.

It was a laugh that would rival the fireworks the two of you watched later on in the night, chomping away at taiyaki as you sat on the edge of the river and pointed out your favorites. Even though your hand was busy the one clasped in his never left it the entirety of the night. Neither of you spoke about why, neither of you told each other that you were desperate for every scrap of a second to last a little longer in each other’s company. And for once, as Togame stood on your doorstep with his hands finally deep in his old Shishitoren jacket, he wished he hadn’t been ten minutes late. Those ten minutes now felt like an eternity. Maybe you could break his habit of never being on time. You and your firework eyes.

[gaoau]

一 ; one ; uno

it's so cold warnings — none. word count — 4.0k

next.

ive long realized plenty of things i never needed—the past is never behind us, the present is fleeting, the future doesnt exist. theres a wrinkle in the sands of time. theres a fault in the fabric of the universe. there are many flaws everywhere i look. sano manjiro lies dead before me. mikey lies dead before me. blond hair and a dragon tattoo because we both miss ken. black hair that makes him look too much like shin. white hair and dark bags covered in tears. how many times have i seen this already? why have i seen this already? everything is broken. its disastrous and confusing and suffocating. i dont understand what im looking at.

i remember, just seconds ago, i was busy beating up some random guys from a rival gang. theres a reason we rule over the kanto area. we dont back down from a fight. so where did i go? where am i? why am i seeing this now? these are memories of a future i dont have. these are memories of a future i shouldnt have. its enough to drive me insane when i think that this is all i get for being next to mikey. i hold my breath and choke whenever hes around. that intoxicating grace of his, the one that sets him apart from the world, has been flooding my senses for longer than i can take. and i let him, because i want him to be happy. this is all i get; blood, gore, pain, death, loneliness.

i dont want to think about mikey any longer. ive done all i could, it seems. id just like to be free for one moment. i still see it all, futures im not a part of, futures that takemichi has made sure to change.

he wears that godforsaken dragon tattoo like a brand on his neck. long hair hes kept dyed through the years because he doesnt want to cut it off, but he doesnt want me to style it for him. i look at him and i see ken. its torture. the years have gone by, im still by his side, he still has me locked in place. he hasnt smiled in what feels like eons. im okay with that. his smile, that empty, silent smile has always made my stomach ache. im not okay with that. hes a carbon copy of ken. we both miss him, i know. it hurts him more than me, even if im the one staring at a burning ghost all day, every day.

we're alone. im alone with mikey. im all alone when im with him. its cold on top of this building, in the corner of the world, secluded from the city weve conquered. i stretch out my legs, leaning against the wall, squinting at the reflection of led lights bending to hit my eye. mikey is still as small as ever. hes so small despite sitting on his throne like this. the gun i hold weighs on my hand. neither of us know how to properly handle guns. weve been drowning in this business for over a decade, but we're very clearly still children.

the safety clicks as i press the barrel under my jaw. "itd be so easy, dont you think?" the sound of my voice calls to him. its the only familiar sound in his life. its why ive been staying with him. i couldnt save him, but at least he still clings onto me like this. hes had me trapped for so long that i seem to have forgotten i was ever my own person.

his darkened eyes shift towards me so slowly. i see his face twist into a panicked frown. "whatre you doing?" he doesnt move from where hes sitting against the wall adjacent to mine. he reaches with his foot to tap my knee. stop, hes trying to say, dont even think about it. hes scared, i can tell. ive learned to read him like the open book he is. his light has grown dimmer through the years. hes angry, i can tell. hes wondering if ill leave him, too.

"nothing," i sigh. i lower the gun and leave it on my lap for a second. "m just thinking…" and i think. yes, i think. i know i cant leave him. he doesnt let me. he keeps me tied down to him. a chuckle falls, sardonic. i point the gun at him. "i cant die before you, mikey." ive promised. ive sworn to stay by his side until the bitter end—until his bitter end.

he doesnt bat an eye. "are you gonna kill me?" its funny how he doesnt care that im the one wholl be killing him. im just making my job easier for myself. i wonder what kind of face kisaki will make when he finds out what ive done.

"do you want me to?" i know he does. tonight ill see we find peace, manjiro. im the only one who he can lean on now.

hes quiet for a second. his eyes are like black holes as they swallow up all the light. he stares straight at me without expression. then, in a whisper, he begs, "…please." he doesnt say my name. no, he hasnt said my name more than once in our lives. he calls me by that stupid nickname he made up when we were hanging out at grandpas dojo.

i cant help the soft simper pulling at my lips. hes still the same mikey i know. he still struggles with asking for help, even if its me. but he still asks; hes still vulnerable in front of me. i pat my lap, legs stretched out just for him. "come here, then," i invite him closer, ready to welcome him with open arms, "rest your head for a bit." rest before you leave.

he doesnt hesitate. he never hesitates. in a swift movement, the back of his head collapses onto me. his eyes, the ones hes kept me trapped in for all my life, they dance around the vast expanse of midnight above us. "the stars are lovely today." stars i once promised to drag down to his feet if he asked. stars i swore wed always watch together.

i hum in agreement. "thats why we're here." everyone knows that stars only come out at night. we both know we're the two brightest burning stars in the world. we sit here, where people can see us burn and consume ourselves until we get crushed. "itll be over soon, i promise." the same way i promised him forever. ill hold him until the moment he dies. 

"thanks." ah, now he chooses to use my actual name. he can be so unfair. he could save a life, but he decided to take mine away instead. under his charm, i let him drag me down. we die hand in hand.

there are no tears; not from me, not from him. it seems weve both been waiting for the other to make the first move. hes so tired and so am i. with a singed throat, the words sting on my tongue as i remind him, "i love you, manjiro." theres no other feeling in the world like loving sano manjiro. i look into his darkened gaze and deny the truth staring back at me. its all a mess, scraping away at my mind. my love and hate look quite alike.

i can hardly tell light from dark or right from wrong anymore. mikey replies, "i love you." again, he dares not say my name. i hate him. he makes me go weak at the knees, even as i slump against the wall. i wonder if its him or the cross im bearing on my back, weighing me down.

mikey closes his eyes. he wants to let go. hes letting me go. its been years and hes finally letting me go. the wind howls and screams our names in my ears as i press the barrel of my gun to his forehead. we're stars; we'll burn, we'll rest, we'll disappear. we go down together. i shoot. his body relaxes against my legs. i feel the warmth of his blood seeping through my clothes. hes free. the gentle quirk of his lips tells me hes happy hes dead. maybe im just making it up. maybe i just want to believe ive done something.

i lift my head to the sky. the gun is warm against my skin. my pulse doesnt tremble when i pull the trigger.

im free.

but we arent free. i walk into his room to find mikey slumped against a corner. hes here again, a ghost of ken. how come his eyes grow darker every time i look? i scratch away an itch on the underside of my jaw, clearing my throat to let him know im here, it's me. he doesnt bother lifting his head for me. i stand right in front of him, bare feet centimeters away from his crossed legs. ive heard what hes done. he didnt check in with me before killing our friends. if takashi dies, then i stay. if pah dies, then i stay. ken and kei died, so i stay. he knows ill follow him to hell.

it hurts me, too. he cant let go of me and hes bruising my wrists. i want him to be happy. i want him to be free. i want to be free. "takashi, pah, peh, chifuyu." the list rings with poison in both of our ears. how did we get here?

"takemicchi got away," he mumbles. i highly doubt takemichi matters much right now. we stopped trusting him long ago. he changed after bloody halloween and mikey couldnt understand why.

i crouch to try and meet his eyes. charming, deadly works of art. viral. it's been years, but he still holds me in his gaze. "never woulda guessed chifuyu was working with tora. after killing kei, i thought for sure he wouldnt forgive him." theres no sugarcoating needed. i dont censor my words. his wounds are fresh and i keep digging my fingers into his flesh to make them deeper. i make all his mistakes real for him because he wants to be scolded. he cant ask for sympathy—he only asks for cruelty.

theres a pause. a silence that hangs. it's heavy, stagnant. it pulls at the seams. "kazutora needs to go, too."

my knees come in contact with the floor as i lean towards mikey. i wrap my arms around his head, cradling him to my chest. hes still warm. he rests his forehead against me. "theres no time, mikey. you cant do this any longer." youre falling apart, manjiro. i pull my gun from its holster, cocking it as i bury it in his hair.

"set me free." he pronounces that stupid nickname, chaos of my real name. i cant discern if hes begging or ordering me.

i hum softly. he put his trust in me. "i love you." he nods. the gunshot echoes in the quiet room. it rings in my ears. i see splatters of mikeys blood on the wall. i feel his body relax in my arms. with the barrel against my temple, i shoot myself free.

a headache splits my skull apart as i watch this unwind. have i seen this before? no, mikeys hair is pitch black. im glad he doesn't let it fall over his forehead. i don't think i could bear to look at shin so much. i was adamant to cut it for him when he asked. the list is the same, though much longer. takashi, pah, peh, chifuyu, tora, the twins, hakkai, even ken. hes talking with takemichi now. it's easy to tell what mikey wants from him. im no good in this future. i don't have what takemichi has.

there is nothing left here for us. i wait among the shadows and debris, listening to mikey confess all his crimes. he veered down the wrong path. ive kept by his side all this time, holding him at his most vulnerable, but im not a savior. takemichi can save him in a way i can't. all ive done so far is push back the inevitable. mikey falls victim to his dark impulses every time. who am i to stop him? he keeps the safety of his gun on; i don't. i can save myself.

"kill me," he says. i feel like ive heard that before. it's not directed at me, though. i won't stop him. all mikey wants is to die and be free. that's what i want, too.

takemichi is, understandably, confused. he doesn't get it. maybe that's why mikey has chosen him. takemichi tries to figure out what mikeys trying to tell him. he asks about the friends hes murdered. it must be frightening for him to hear his former commander speak so nonchalantly about setting hakkai on fire. he asks about me. mikey glances at where im hidden. i catch the look in his eyes. those eyes that had me wrapped around his finger when he so intensely stared into my soul. they quiver.

hes helpless. hes scared. hes tired. hes horrified. he doesn't know what to do. he pounces on takemichi and threatens him. then a gunshot rings. it's not mikeys, it's not takemichis. and it's certainly not mine. mikey is dead. mikey is free. i swore to him that i would see him to his end. we die hand in hand, don't we, manjiro?

tachibana naoto, hinas little brother shot him. i remember her mentioning him to me once. ironic how hes the one to kill mikey, of all people. as takemichi cradles mikeys dead body in his arms, i step out of my waiting spot. it alerts both men instantly. naoto is wary of my presence, but takemichi believes in hope. he exclaims my name with enthusiasm. perhaps he thought mikey had killed me as well when he didn't answer. as if mikey would ever let me go.

"im just here to pick him up," i let them know i mean no harm.

naoto is a cautious man, if anything. "takemichi-kun, get behind me." id never do anything to hurt takemichi. he doesn't need to be worried about me.

i kneel before takemichi, extending my arms out. i remove mikeys burdens from his chest to take him away with me so we can both find peace. his blood smears on my clothes and i know takemichi will have a hard time forgetting this sight. mikey doesn't weigh much. it's painful knowledge.

as i haul mikey away, takemichi calls, "wait!"

there's nothing left to say, though. mikey has confessed all his crimes. mikey has confessed all his pains. "it's over, takemichi." i can't bring myself to curse him with that stupid nickname after all these years. "it's finally over." we're finally free. welcome home, manjiro. i wonder, if i smiled, would it hurt him? it'd be genuine happiness, but it's not like he'd be able to read that, so i don't. mikeys body is cold and stiff against mine. i let him rest against me, eyes closed and dried tears on his cheeks. he hasn't cried in so long. he leans his head on my shoulder. he always does this when he lets his vulnerability show. "i love you, manjiro," i remind him. hes all i have. i press my gun to the roof of my mouth. i don't get to taste it.

it's never over. my tongue feels dry when i chew on it out of anxiety. ive heard three shots. i see haru waiting behind a corner as mikey finishes his business. i didn't even glance at takemichi before i decided i couldn't do this. i wonder how much longer it'll take mikey to come up here and join me. this is the tokyo we conquered; this is not the dream mikey had. if he'd had a better moral compass, if he hadn't let ken go, if he hadn't put his trust in me, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

i hear footsteps behind me. here he is. i hug one of my legs to my chest, the other one dangling off the edge. we're on top of the world. it's a long way back home from up on this rooftop. he stands next to me in complete silence. so he's left takemichi to die. he was hopeless and helpless until the very end. i can't blame him. he's been through so much. he doesn't know how to share. he takes on all of the pain. he can only ask to be punished, because aid isn't a word in his vocabulary.

mikey pipes up, "you've been waiting for me here?" it doesn't surprise him at all. i know him like the back of my hand. this is how he takes responsibility for the last decade of misfortunes. he'll end it all.

"i couldn't bare to watch you keep making these mistakes," i reply truthfully. ive seen this before. i glance up at him and he glances down at the street. don't look down, manjiro. you won't survive this trip to hell.

it sounds like he wants to laugh. he doesn't. instead he brings back a conversation we had when we were fourteen. "that's why you're better than me." hardly. he says that stupid nickname clinging to me like a curse.

"after you." i motion towards his kingdom, to the path covered in blood and snow.

mikey looks at me briefly, quiet. then he cranes his neck up at the sky. "you won't stop me?" i see the tattoo on his nape. he put it there so he wouldn't have to look at it. it burns on his skin as it burns on my shoulder blade.

"i can't." i don't have the rights to stop him. i didn't do it in other timelines, im not going to start now. this is the only way for us to be free. it's tragic how unfortunate we are. maybe we deserve it.

how does one normally respond to a friend committing suicide? how does one respond to a friend letting them commit suicide? it's not what mikey does when he hums. "i'll see you later." he disappears into his own mind. whose face is he seeing? shins? emmas? i would hope. "everyone, let's do this!" there's a grin on his face. ive missed it. he hops off the roof and away from me.

"ill see you later."

i hear haru screaming all the way from the street. he's distressed. he's been with manjiro just as long as i have. mikey trapped him the same way he trapped me, but somehow worse. i know im not free as long as i stay next to mikey. i stay out of love and selfishness. haru stays out of fear and obsession. i know im not free, but im still my own person.

and i don't fool myself.

mikeys falling to his death, peaceful. an arm shoots out from the building and latches onto him. i smile bitterly, a sigh tumbling from my lips. "sucks that death is a bit of a bitch for both of us." i want to jump, too. i stick to my perch and swallow my pride, because im my own person, but im not. i can't die before mikey, i can't leave him alone.

i see the tears pouring out of his eyes. he begs for help, finally, for the first time in his life. it's enough to make me cry, too. he's being weak for the whole world to watch him burn himself to oblivion. takemichi scolds him. he struggles to hold on when the cross he's bearing weighs him down. twelve years of pain make him slip from his saviors grasp. there's nothing i can do.

blond hair and passive, ken's tattoo, black hair and chaos, izana's earrings. reality is broken for me, pieces of different timelines scattered on the floor. i have all these memories that aren't mine. mikey lies dead before me in a billion angles no one else can see. i don't understand why im seeing this now. i know ive seen it before. it's been two years since i last had to suffer through this. time is shattered and it hurts.

i hear that nickname ring in my ears. when i blink, mikey's corpses are gone. there's a weight in my hand and it's not from a gun. im gripping an unconscious boy by the collar. my knuckles sting. the skin of my hands is split open, bleeding. i remember now. we were wiping out a rival gang that challenged us. i turn towards mikey, trying to blink him into focus. "sorry, what'd you say?"

he stares back at me with hollow eyes. there's a tiny furrow in his brow that others wouldn't be able to pinpoint. "let's go," he repeats, nodding his head for me to follow him. i see haru and koko waiting for us behind him. they both look away when i catch their gazes.

"oh, yeah." i clear my throat. the kid im holding slips from my fingers and crumbles on the floor. his head bounces when it hits the ground. next to the blood splattered on the dirt, a tear drops. i realize it's mine instantly. im crying. i wipe at my eyes with my sleeve to pretend nobody saw me. i don't think i can explain what's made me cry like this in the middle of a fight. there's a discomfort in my throat, and remnants of a headache pulse in my temples, and the roof of my mouth itches. im still crying. the tears fall, but i feel nothing. this anguish isn't mine to feel.

i cough into my fist as i walk to stand next to mikey so we can head back. there's an open gash on his leg that he's ignoring. what's a little wound to the invincible mikey, after all? i know nobody is invincible, let alone manjiro, because i know people die, because ive killed him with my own two hands. ill take care of it for him later; mikey is my responsibility. he waits for me to join him. my shoulder brushes against his. he glares at my tears so intensely. "are you okay?" he asks quietly, like he doesn't want the two boys ahead of us to hear.

i turn my head to find his eyes. it's like he's trying to bring all my deceit to light, like im not allowed to hold secrets. i see those black holes that swallow up his own deceit. all i see, rather than the mikey right in front of me, is his corpses in variety, because i killed him, because i let him die, because that's what he wanted and that's the only way he could be free. so i clear my throat again, "yeah, just got dizzy." he knows it's a lie, instantly. my voice doesn't waver when i lie, but it gets small. he knows.

he lets silence hang for a moment. "did you eat today?"

i shake my head. "i was waiting for you." my attention flutters back to the two boys a few paces ahead. they're awfully quiet.

so is mikey. i feel him still staring at me. "okay." and he looks away, too.

[mdhwrites]

Luz's impulsiveness and lack of interest in other people's feelings in the face of her grand fantasies - and the fact that she is rarely, if ever, taken to task for it - is one of the reasons why I never fully got into TOH from the get-go. (And then the hype train took off and I got even more frustrated) So I thought that the direction her arc would take was realizing that "understanding" is a two-way street. If she wants to be understood, she has to come to terms with the facts that:

a) Her actions have consequences for other people.

b) Sometimes (not always, just SOMETIMES) she has to compromise on her fantasies for the good of herself and others. Meet them in the middle occasionally.

c) Other people are more willing to put in the work to understand you if YOU also put in the work to understand THEM. It's easy to blame others/society for being misunderstood/feeling like an outcast. It's harder to accept that the way you behave is not serving you or your relationships and some part of it needs to change if you want to grow as a person.

But from the sound of the finale (I haven't watched TOH consistently since the first part of season 2) Luz's arc is that she is perfect and doesn't need to improve whatsoever and everyone else needs to get on her level? Am I getting that right?

You are! And... Especially when contrasted with Amphibia, the reason you are is actually BIZARRE because both TOH and Amphibia do something different besides the normal teenage character form of growth... Kind of. See, everything you just described actually doesn't need to be the main thrust of Luz's character arc but it doesn't it mean that it's unreasonable to ask for. After all, just about EVERY teenage protagonist undergoes one form growth (not an arc. Honestly I need to do a blog smacking people about the term): Maturity. This is just inherent to where they are in life because they're about they have the proper experience to attempt to be mature but are still young enough to make the basic mistakes that come with learning how to be a person with other people. This is actually the main thrust for character for Aang, Katara and Toph in Avatar because, to briefly go into it, a character is about real change in a character. Something fundamental shifts in them. That's what makes it an arc because usually the process of changing that sort of thing is painful and takes time and does need to be more pronounced. This is why Zuko, and Sokka to a lesser extent, undergo character arcs that do genuinely shift who they are as people. It makes Sokka less misogynistic (because that was a part of his character before the Kyoshi) which in turn leads to him changing his definition of a great warrior which is a big deal to him as a person. And Zuko... *gestures at the whole sad boy* But maturity is more about refinement which is about growth. It's effectively the difference where in episode one a character might entirely ignore or not want to discuss problems that they're having but then in S2 they've learned enough and grown close enough to those around them to be able to actually talk about the issue and seek help instead of thinking they have to do everything themselves. This is where Katara gets her proper understanding of people and loses more and more of her anger so that when she is angry, it's for the right reasons. It's Toph not needing to show off as much and keep focus. It's the fact that despite the fact it would hit him on a personal level, if Aang hadn't found a harder, more dangerous out for beating Ozai... He would have been willing to kill him when in S1, something so painful would have immediately made him want to abandon the idea entirely. But none of these change the fundamental aspects of the character. That's why Aang, Katara and Toph mostly still behave 1:1 in regular situations than when they were first introduced because they're still kids and they have time to stop being childish or not because like Bumi demonstrated, childishness isn't a bad thing so long as it doesn't blind from the necessities and other people. That's how a lot of shows can have character growth while keeping their same tone because the core of the character doesn't need to change. Amphibia subverts this in S1 by explicitly making it an arc. Anne is a bad person at the beginning of the show. Period. She isn't just a goofball teenager, even if what she does doesn't make her a villain either, but she is manipulative, lazy, harsh dismissive, etc. because of what she's picked up from Sasha. But over the entire course of S1, we see everything that indeed changes her so that she is more mature, even to the point where if Anne HADN'T gone through her arc... The plot of S2 wouldn't function because she wouldn't be the heart at that point. It's REALLY impressive frankly how well Amphibia actually tackles what's happening in the background of these characters.

Meanwhile... TOH subverts by not having it happen. This is actually a little funky to talk about with Luz because S1 makes it look like they're doing what most kid's shows do. She's making mistakes rooted in being a teen and who she is and she's theoretically learning while fixing the problem and having hijinks. This is a LOOOOOT of Molly McGee and that's not a bad thing since I could also list off a dozen cartoons that are like this.

But I did say theoretically, didn't I? That's because of two problems going on. The first is technically not a problem in concept because Luz is part of a larger cast. Some of those lessons are going to go to other people like Amity, Gus and King. The main problem with this is that Gus doesn't matter and Amity's 'growth' is made problematic by the fact that it's more about retconning her first appearance than it is actually about growing because 'She was actually always a good girl. We swear.' This is why I still argue Amity doesn't really have an arc. It's not that something fundamental is changing about Amity, it's just that we're getting introduced to who she really is. (I actually have a blog specifically about this like I do about Hunter, or I thought I did, but I couldn't find it so have me talking about character arcs by contrasting Amity versus Anne) Either way, it makes it so that the lessons being learned aren't really being carried forward at all. Just look at how little Amity actually gives a shit about Willow post her lesson in Understanding Willow.

The other problem is the Fluttershy Effect as I will call it because that's where I first heard this. It's where the same topic gets addressed over and over again with nothing changing. Now, TOH actually gives few shits to having blanket in its episodes so the fact that it exhibits this anyways is really bad. Just look at Luz and Eda's relationship. In the first season, there's multiple episodes spent on "Hey, maybe you should listen to your mentor when she talks about magic," or "don't take shortcuts on magic." In S2, that shifts to "Trust Eda" because despite Eda not thinking Luz is weak and giving her substantially more freedom, there's still multiple episodes where the tension is Luz giving Eda the middle finger about thinking she's weak before going and proving herself, which was already a thing in S1 PLENTY. It's just now shifted that Luz isn't mocked into proving herself but being a mad girl. This repetition shows a refusal to grow.

To mature. The real capstone to this is effectively what the human realm becomes what she perceives as her greatest mistake. She ran away to another world and didn't have to suffer for the consequences for her actions once so she could live out a fantasy rather than actually having to try to grow as a person and relate to other people like she would have had to at camp. Her decision to stay in the human realm and never face the Collector, who she blames herself wholly as why he exists in the first place, is just another run around of that. Even if she technically didn't choose to come back to the human realm (in a moment I find frustrating when an episode before that she quickly thought up a complex solution to be the hero and save Hunter while in distress and on a time crunch but can't ask the simple question of "WHAT TO DO YOU EXPECT TO DO AGAINST A GOD!?"), her choosing to stay still counts, even when given the option to go back. And then we get to her character finish where actually... At first it looks like it's going to salvage itself. The whole process to get here will still have been bad but accepting mistakes and moving on is actually a sign of maturity. Camila has a GREAT point that is directly addressing a human problem for the majority of her speech that would have actually resolved Luz's problems and at least made it so that the show's failed attempt at an arc with Luz coalesced into something.

But it instead ends with the idea that Luz being understood is all that's important despite no one besides bad guys, at best, showing any amount of push back on her for over a season by then. The closest it comes is Amity asking Luz to STOP LYING. And even then, Luz doesn't face consequences for it for more than five seconds which gives Amity saying she doesn't want to be around her the feel of "We need to get to a more meaningful and romantic spot for me to a perfect girlfriend again." *hurk* And the attempt in general with Luz's character arc in S2B shows her just regressing as a person. Doubling down on her worse traits and then learning nothing because the show has a finale for the arc in mind and refuses to let anything budge until then. That or because they aren't really willing to criticize Luz as even S1 struggles to properly criticize Luz as it muddies its morals or just shifts Luz's perspective a little but that her heart was in the right place.

It's just a disaster and frankly probably one of the biggest reasons why if I had to say if TOH is good or not, even from a basic perspective... No. Because it's a kid's show that reinforces the worst parts of childish behavior, avoiding consequences, listening, understanding, responsibility, etc. and wanting all the glory without putting in the effort. It's a show that I don't think would make a kid necessarily a worse human being like Teen Titans Go might but... It's not something that will make them a better person. And TOH IS a kid's show. That cannot be ignored, especially when there are PLENTY of writing choices that are only acceptable, at best, from a kid's show in it. Not that TOH wants to admit it.

=========

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

[zannolin]

loving the stranger things posting as someone going through a sudden random stranger things phase lol. i have a question: what makes byler an interesting dynamic for you? i'm not a big shipper person personally but i like to hear people's thoughts!

it's so funny i got here because i was suffering from cares too much disease about the karate kid and i needed something to distract me and then um. it did more than distract.

sidenote: coming back to say this got??? so long. so i'm sorry lol. i'm a chronic rambler.

i'll be honest i never actually shipped byler seriously until literally 2 months ago today. i sort of went "haha what if...?" back in 2022 mostly because my friend was into it and i really love mike as a character. oh mike wheeler the character that you are...i've loved him since 2016 lol and i loved him and will as a dynamic since i saw s2. i was so sold on their friendship, and then s3 and s4 were brutal for me to watch as someone who has grown apart from a lot of friends because of similar circumstances (moving, mostly, but also some relationships, and the inherent tragedy of growing up, and the fact that having a shitty family and being 15 can do a lot of damage to your relationships if you're not careful, etc) so like basically i then got More into them because i am obsessed with friendship estrangement plots. and i like both their characters. ("like" is such an understatement even in 2022 i was unhinged about michael wheeler)

frankly they're interesting to me as a ship for all the same reasons as they're interesting to me as a friendship: devotion, knowing someone better than you know yourself, the fear of loss, the fear of change, how easy vs how hard it is to grow up with someone, estrangement, feeling like you're a bad person and self-sabotaging, etc. the funny thing is i didn't even think will was gay or that there WAS (one-sided, anyway) byler until the literal van scene in s4 because i have that little faith in netflix lol, not to mention i used to be a mileven shipper. and then s3 happened which killed my interest in that and then s4 beat the dead horse from here to california. i realized for one thing mike being queer is really interesting to me and opens a lot of room for fun angles on his canonical character with comphet and internalized homophobia, etc, and it works very well with established canon. to me.

i'm honestlyyyy kind of surprised i got into it at all because besides the fact that i'm not a big shipper anymore, i'm RARELY a childhood friends to lovers fan because 1) it's often boring to me, i'm like but why do we need something Other than friendship?? (aro alert) and 2) i personally do not enjoy romance where it's like. you end up with the person you dated in high school? like it's jsut a me thing but i go aaaaaa when it's idk 12 year olds being like "i'm in love" no you're not you're twelve. i literally have DMs of me to my sister watching s4 where i was like michael why are you saying you loved eleven the day you met her, you were twelve and spent the entire season fucking obsessed with finding your best friend and kept dropping her the second she wasn't useful for that, like i love you but you were— what. (regardless of whether or not that bullshit turns out to be, you know, Actually canonically bullshit. that was my reaction lol). um i'm rambling sorry. anyway. they just happened to hit really good beats for me where it could go either way for me (platonic or romantic) and i wouldn't mind and i'm happy with both. but apparently my brain is like What If Romance when it comes to fic for them and i'm being a bit self-indulgent. i want will byers to have nice things and i want mike to not be stuck in the world's worst written relationship ever (to me).

actually the tl;dr is basically everything i like about mike as a character has to do with his plots concerning will, and everything i don't like about what they've been doing with him lately has to do with his relationship with el, so via potentially unintentional gay symbolism, the power of friendship estrangement plots + my love of friendship breakup/makeup scenarios, and my fascination with writing queer loneliness and mutual pining, AND that "good luck, babe" edit, i ended up here.

also finn wolfhard keeps making the most ridiculously intensely tender expressions during byler scenes and i'm a simple creature i see a man with big wet brown eyes and i go oh well mayyybe....

[forever-sapphire]

Love is Gone

summary: a short story about losing feelings based on the song Love is Gone by SLANDER and Dylan Matthew

pairing: min yoongi (suga) x reader

genre/warnings: angst(?), idol!yoongi, established relationship

a/n: this is my first work on tumblr and my first fanfic in over five years. still figuring things out but i hope you enjoy it!! :))

wc: ~1.5K

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You knew Yoongi was not the most expressive person in the world. He often felt like a wise old soul trapped in the body of a thirty year old. He was quiet and serious in his own way but he has really opened up in the past years. He smiles more, makes more of an effort to be around people.

When you met him your first impression of him was cold and distant, he seemed like the type of man that would observe a situation first before he acted. He gave off the aura of someone that has been through hell and back. As you got to know him you found out that he was a man of many sacrifices.

He’d gone through everything you could possibly imagine to get to where he is now. He’s made six lifelong friends and has a successful career in music, but in the process he’s lost so much. This didn’t mean that he didn’t find anything along the way. He’d grown as a person and has learned and unlearned a lot about himself. If asked, you would say Yoongi was a different person from when you first met him; but still, he was unapologetically himself.

It wasn’t easy getting to know him, but loving him came naturally. It took a while to break his walls down––even now you’re not entirely sure if those walls have completely caved in. You’ve known Yoongi for five years now, been with him for three. He was your support system, the one that got you through your tough times. The constant in a world centered around change. You knew you could trust Yoongi with your heart and soul.

So why was this happening?

It started small.

He zoned out while you were talking about your next passion project––a short film that tackled your fear of growing old without someone to love and someone who loved you in return. You were talking about it animatedly to Yoongi in his Hybe studio. You’d brought some dinner over because he was working overtime. It wasn’t unusual for him to get wrapped up in work, take out was nothing new to the both of you.

He’s tired, you reasoned.

With a small smile you stopped talking. Usually Yoongi was enthusiastic when it came to listening to your passion projects. Sure, he’d zone out before but never about a film you wanted to make. It was starting to become more frequent, you noted. It wasn’t out of character for him to be out of it but the recurrence of it was starting to worry you. 

“Are you okay?”

It took a moment before he shrugged and gave you a faint smile. 

“Let’s go home?”

He knew it wasn’t a question. He gave a curt nod before saving his progress and closing his computer. He had a small studio in your shared apartment. It wasn’t like the one he had in Hybe but it was enough to work from home on days he didn’t want to be away from you.

However, recently it was starting to feel like that room tore you apart instead.

With his enlistment coming soon, Yoongi was focused on creating as much content as he could. He’d be working late nights in his Hybe studio only to come home and continue working in his home studio. You understood how important his work was to him, it was something you knew and accepted even before you began dating. You never competed with his work and would always be there to support him.

Then it was the little things.

Yoongi used to call you his muse, he’d share his music with you before anyone else. He’d lay out the first draft of his lyrics in front of you as if he hadn’t just shared with you the rawest and purest form of his emotions. In his mind you were one and the same. He wasn’t letting someone in his space, it was him and you. One singular unit.

You don’t remember when it started but you realize you don’t know the words to any of his newest songs. He no longer consults his craft with you; now it was him and you. Two separate beings. It wasn’t long before he had released a song you  knew nothing about on his personal SoundCloud––the one only known by you and the other members of BTS.

You received a call from Jimin excited about the new song, asking if you had known about it all along––of course you knew about it, who was he kidding? 

He didn’t notice the hesitation in your voice, the way it falters as you give a soft laugh and pretend you heard about it. You listened to the song as soon as the call ended and your heart falls.

You don’t know what it’s about.

Then it became bigger.

Yoongi usually made sure you would sleep beside each other whenever possible. No matter how tired he was or how late he’d get off of work, he made sure to spend even just ten minutes of rest on your shared bed. He wasn’t always there when you woke up but he made sure you never felt that the bed was too big for you.

You weren’t usually a light sleeper but it started a couple weeks ago when you woke up needing to use the bathroom. Yoongi wasn’t in bed anymore. He wasn’t the type to go back to work when he already packed up for the night. Still, you found him in his home studio, the computer opened to another sound file unknown to you.

You don’t disturb him, afraid to break his concentration. You go back to bed feeling more lonely than you thought you’d be.

You started sleeping lightly after that. Yoongi no longer stayed in bed with you. He’d get up in the middle of the night and stay in his studio. Sometimes you even find him curled on the small sofa that was initially more for decoration than for sleeping.

It was another one of those nights. You felt him shift on his side of the bed. You felt the sheets move and heard the rustle of his indoor slippers on the floor. Soon you hear the door creak and the sound of his footsteps fade into nothing.

“Don’t go tonight.”

Your plea falls on deaf ears, no one is there to listen.

~ o ~

“What did I do?”

Your voice is firm and a silence hangs over the two of you. This wasn’t the silence you were used to. No––silence with Yoongi was supposed to be quiet, comfortable, safe.

Yoongi’s mouth opens slightly, only for him to close them again soon after. He’s struggling with his words, grasping for answers. He wanted to tell you so badly that it wasn’t you, it could never be your fault, but he couldn’t find the words to express himself. He didn’t know how to stop you from hurting, he didn’t know what he should do knowing that he was causing your pain.

He wanted to say he was sorry. He didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did. Feelings fade, people change. There was nothing he could do. He wanted to hold you, comfort you, tell you everything was going to be okay. Before anything, you were his friend. But he knew he shouldn’t.

Instead he remains quiet, unable to meet your gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“Don’t leave me.”

Nothing.

“I want you here with me.”

Your voice finally cracks, the tears starting to fall.

You can’t breathe. You feel sick to your stomach. You knew this happened but you never thought it’d happen to you. No, this can’t be real. You’ve been a good person your whole life. Sure, you’re no saint but you avoided hurting people as much as you can. You do good deeds every now and then––sharing your umbrella with a stranger, being there for a friend. You’ve never saved someone from a burning building but you’ve never harmed anyone intentionally.

You feel weak. If you weren’t already sitting your knees would’ve given out. You try to wrap your head around it, try to process how it could’ve happened. It was slow, it started small. It was the zoning out. The secrecy when it came to his music. The late night work sessions. It was everything. You saw it coming, you should have, but you denied it with every fiber of your being. How could he just decide he didn’t love you anymore?

“I’m sorry,” his voice was barely above a whisper. He leaves you there, lost and in pain.

You know this isn’t easy. Sobs wracked your body. This was the one moment you’d allow yourself to break, you told yourself. You cry your heart out, clutching at your shirt, the pain swelling in your chest. You promised yourself you’d be strong, that you’d let it out then let it go. But it wasn’t that easy. As you hug yourself tighter you know it won’t be a linear process. Your heart was broken and Yoongi had taken a piece of you with him. You can make all these promises to yourself and still break but you’d move on. You have to.

Your voice catches in your throat, you wish Yoongi would hear you and deny it.

“Your love is gone.”

[twilightmalachite]

2×2 - Grown-Up Situation 4

Author: Akira

Characters: Yuuta, Hinata, Anzu

Translator: Mika Enstars

"He actually made 2wink shine, unlike other people who are nothing but talk."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Meeting Room

Yuuta: …And so, those in the faction who want to disparage Anzu-san are trying to get YamadaP appointed in her place.

Hinata: There’s talks about bringing in a well-known independent agency from the field to ES and make them the head of P-Association, huh?

And transfer the power and authority Anzu-san currently has over to YamadaP.

Yuuta: Well, it might become a hot topic. It’s an undeniable fact that YamadaP is competent, I have a feeling it’ll change the way we see the P-Association, which is currently being laughed at.

He actually made 2wink shine, unlike other people who are nothing but talk.

Hinata: Watch your words… Why have you turned into such a bad kid, Yuuta-kun?

Yuuta: I’ve been like this for a while, though? Wasn’t it just everyone else who misunderstood me?

I just realized that it’s impossible for others to understand me even if I kept quiet, so I decided to not hold back anymore from revealing my true feelings.

I don’t care if I’m hated for it. It’s better than being slowly chopped to death.

Hinata: … …

Yuuta: Well, whatever. Maybe I just don’t get it, but what do we have to do with this unsightly P-Association infighting?

I don’t want us to get involved in this~, can’t you idiots just squash each other instead?

Hinata: I told you, watch your words, your words…

Anzu-san said that since there’s no point in fighting forever, they decided to settle with a match.

A production showdown between AnzuP and YamadaP.

Yuuta: Sounds fun, adults.

Hinata: Better than a never-ending internal conflict that could lead to violence—I mean, it sounds pretty healthy.

Yuuta: Anyways, we 2wink have been chosen for the production showdown’s material.

Hinata: We’re the balls being used in a ball game.

We seem to be the only idols that Anzu-san and YamadaP have both produced—

Yuuta: As an external producer, YamadaP doesn’t seem to have much involvement with ES idols.

I guess that means we’re convenient~. Well, I do feel that in terms of how long we’ve known each other, Anzu-san has a bit of an advantage.

But, YamadaP has spent more time working as a producer, right? Meaning his experience and track record are on a whole different level.

Hinata: I guess those reasons are why they felt we would make suitable “balls”.

I sound like you saying this, Yuuta-kun, but adults seriously are always making selfish decisions without knowing it.

Yuuta: As usual, our autonomy is not taken into consideration, isn’t it?

Hinata: Right, right, do we get anything out of going along with this mess?

Yuuta: Hm, hm… Eh, for real?

Yuuta: Really… From now on, we’ll be able to have our very own brand-new weekly name-sake program during prime time?

Hinata: I wonder if that’s what the Vice Prez was referring to when he called it a “large job offer”.

That program—2×2, will be produced alternatingly by Anzu-san and YamadaP.

Yuuta: And then, you’ll compete for viewer ratings, or something?

Hinata: As of right now at least… It seems the program’s scheduled to air a total of 12 times for a season, meaning Anzu-san and YamadaP will be in charge of 6 each.

The total ratings earned for those 6 sessions will be compared, the winner being who has the highest.

Yuuta: Ahaha, isn’t this just some game?

Just what do these oh-so-hard-working people think of the work they do as?

Hinata: I think it’s good and easy to understand. Also, Anzu-san and YamadaP will be in charge of the first and last episodes respectively, which are the most likely to get large viewership ratings.

Yuuta: It kiiiinda feels like they’ve made a solid plan already, somehow… If we refuse the request, the whole thing will just fall apart, is that really alright?

But if we say no, then I bet some other idols will just be put in our place… Honestly, there’s probably millions of them out there ready to toss us aside and replace us.

Hinata: Hmm. And it's true this is a disproportionately huge job, where turning it down isn’t really an option.

I’m willing to take it on, if anything. It sounds like it’d be a little interesting, and I think it’d be beneficial to 2wink too.

So Anzu-san, there’s no need for you to do anything like kowtow.

Yuuta: We’ve been used to being swung around to other people’s conveniences for a while now.

You can apologize now and say that you’re sorry for causing us trouble, but all I can say is if you’re going to apologize, then don’t do it in the first place.

Hinata: I’m still concerned about how you phrased that, but… Well, that's how it is.

We’ll cooperate with you the best we can, so don’t look at us like that—okay, Anzu-san?

We owe both a lot to you and YamadaP, so it doesn’t bother us, although we can’t just pick a side.

Yuuta: I suppose that’s why we were chosen. Any other ES idol—Especially those from Yumenosaki, are likely to have a bias towards Anzu-san.

Where if it were us, who don’t really have favor towards one side or another, it’ll make for a fair game, right?

Hinata: Right. So, well, it’s hard to not want Anzu-san to win, but we’ll do our best as professionals!

It seems to be somewhat of a troublesome position for Anzu-san, too…Well, do your best.

As a producer.

And we, too, will do our very best as idols, with pride.

[ ☆ ]

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[mwolf0epsilon]

To Heal is to Grow

Summary: Sometimes the healing process coves with some interesting changes.

[Dogma healing arc.]

THIS STORY IS NOW ON AO3

---

"There's nothing wrong with you." They say in that all-too-knowing kindly and patient voice of theirs. The one they used on the newest arrivals who'd only just earned their paint by trial of fire.

It's a tone he's all too intimately familiar with. They had used it often enough when both he and his twin came to them, shrinking in on themselves due to their constant anxiety. The looming terror they felt whenever they considered what may happen to them if they couldn't pass the final test. If it turned out they just weren't good enough to ever leave their stormy nest.

"There has to be..." He responds while his hands rest on his lap. Resting on the much too large gut that's attached to too wide hips and plump chest. Both of which are attached to too round limbs.

All of him as become more than it used to be, and he's not entirely sure he knows how to feel about this. How to explain what it feels like to wake up one day and find his body so... Different from what he remembers.

"The others... They're on the same medication and this hasn't happened to them." He shakes his head, looks up at his older sibling's smiling face, and swallows the nervous lump in his throat. He can feel the way his flesh wobbles from the movement of his Adam's apple and that definitely feels weird now that he's aware of it.

"It doesn't happen to everyone." They insist, clearly at ease with this issue. They seem very sure of themselves that everything is ok despite the proof saying otherwise. "It may seem odd, but not everyone has the same response to the same medications."

"Yes, but we're clones." He adds, brow furrowed and lips quirked downwards in a tight little frown. It's the one thing that hasn't changed about him. The frowning. It still looks the same.

Even so he finds it more difficult to find reason not to smile most days. It's very very odd to say the least. But not unpleasant.

"Rhythm is allergic to gluten." Sponge smiles, and that should be odd too. They never used to smile back when they were still with the 501st. But nowadays he's seen them with a peaceful look on their face, rather than that disgruntled and sour look he'd grown accustomed to seeing them with. "Fox is lactose intolerant. Lich is allergic to pollen, Pretty Boy to tooka fur..."

"None of them have gotten fat without noticing, Sponge..." And he looks back down at his lap and feels the creeping sensation of heat coloring his cheeks at his own blunt statement.

Dogma never imagined gaining weight would be a side-effect his meds might saddle him with. More than half of the Guard Remnant were on the same prescription to help them deal with the scars of their troubled pasts. None of them had filled out the way he had. None of them had so much as mentioned that he'd gotten bigger either.

His body, his appearance, altered without him ever even realizing it was happening in front of his own eyes. And somehow it didn't feel as bad as he thought it should? It was hard to explain...

A small part of him thinks he should be upset, furious even, or perhaps a little horrified that he could be so inattentive.

This part he knows is the one he's tried to bury deep inside himself. The one that was still the foolish soldier who'd been tricked into fighting his own brothers. The one that the 501st had resented so much that they'd found it easy to say the things they'd said about him behind his back. The person he no longer was or ever wanted to be. That Dogma would think he'd let himself go, or might even stoop so low as to call himself a greedy and bloated puffer pig.

Another much bigger part of him thinks he doesn't entirely dislike the situation he's found himself in.

It was no secret that the clones had been starving for the entirety of the war. Their metabolism far too high for them to ever be truly satisfied post-meal. The rations only serving to keep them at the edge of acceptability in terms of nutrition and energy. Visible ribs was the acceptable standard of most foot soldiers. The only padded soldiers had been the ARCs who underwent rigorous gene therapy during their training to get to the appropriate musculature size, and even so he'd seen Fives's ribs on Umbara. His larger muscles well on the way of getting consumed for energy.

Dogma remembers Hardcase once joking that the natborns liked them to stay hungry because it kept them mean and eager for a scrap. Dogma remembers going to bed hungry. Dogma remembers starvation and pilfered snacks that Olly used to steal to keep the Guard fed on particularly bad days.

There hasn't been a day on Epifania where any of them have starved and Dogma is grateful for it. Is happy that he's experienced fullness when his standard had always been that aching emptiness all clones were so familiar with. He felt bad sometimes that only a few of them got to ever be this well looked after. This secure. But that's how things were sometimes.

Life's a bitch and you deal with it. You can't save everyone, only those who reach out.

He's not entirely happy with not realizing he's gained weight. He's a little frustrated he's the one who's antidepressants caused such a noticeable reaction. But he's not as upset as he would have been if this had happened when he was younger. Mostly because now he knows better. Knows this isn't the worst thing that could happen to him.

Dogma is happy. His medication helps making this possible, helps making so many of the things that broke in his head function correctly. The meds are there to help him function and he's happy. What's a little extra weight?

"There's nothing wrong with you." Sponge insists, pushes the plate of cupcakes closer to Dogma's side of the table, and smiles so brightly it makes him smile back.

He doesn't insist that there has to be something wrong. He accepts that he got one roll of the die that's different from everyone else. Decides he'll welcome the change with open arms for once and let himself enjoy the peace.

Dogma takes a cupcake and enjoys his existence.

[fastcardotmp3]

Hi hi!! I just recently finished Metamorphoses and have been thinking about it for a week solid. Just. Incredible. I’m talking about it with irls, that’s how much I’ve been THINKING.

I had a question relating to the epilogue; Eddie mentions that he and Steve broke up at one point but eventually came back together. What do you think was the cause for that official break? And what precipitated their getting together again? (I’m assuming the pauses that Eddie and Steve take in the fic are not the “official” breakup)

Thank you so much for sharing your work with us, and for putting so much love into what you do. ❤️

hi hello!!! I'm honored it's hung around in your brain that long thank you so much for your kind words😭but honestly what a coincidence because I am actually ALWAYS thinking about that universe 🥹💚

I would love to answer your question because the only reason I didn't include any of that in the actual epilogue is it would've screwed with the pacing So Much to go on a tangent like that (in an admittedly already too-long epilogue), but I've definitely thought about it!

Under the cut because it's me 🐍

The thing about where they're at by the end of the post-S4 timeline in that fic is they've grown and changed and matured a lot during that year and a half, right? They've learned so much about themselves and each other and where they fit, but they're also still so fucking young.

They're young enough that there's still just so much space for growing and changing to keep happening, and that's not an easy thing to always stick together through even when you're not prone to mental health relapses like these guys are.

They started working towards a proper Relationship with the capital R while they were still on kind of rocky ground healing wise, and no matter how solid they feel by chapter 10, someday they're going to be 25 and things will be changing again, they'll be changing again.

All of a sudden they're moving to a new city for each other and leaving behind the only place they've ever known each other and trying to find their footing all over again.

All of a sudden Eddie's changing career paths and making plans for a future he never thought he'd have and Steve is leaving behind all his repair-work clients in Indy and having to start fresh in Chicago.

All of a sudden there's a great big world outside of their door that's bigger than just them, and sure, that's always been the case, but maybe they got so comfortable in their bubble that going outside of it is as exciting as it is difficult.

There's so much still to learn about themselves, and they're both deeply imperfect, right? For Eddie there's the anxiety of losing his sense of self again and the ungrounded nature of that; for Steve there's maybe some lingering fear or even resentment for what it had felt like the last time Eddie decided to get up and go.

It's not just one thing, it's bigger than them just like the world, and it's Steve, ultimately, who decides he's scared enough of all the big upheavals that he can't be attached to Eddie like that right now, trapped in a tiny apartment together with nowhere for all the complexity to go.

Steve says he can't take care of himself while he's waiting for the other shoe to drop on Eddie's end of things, and so he walks away before Eddie can.

It's a break in the maturity, a taking over of old fears, but it makes sense, and even if it lasts less than 3 months in total, maybe it's good for them too.

Good to realize that they do exist outside of one another, that they don't need each other the way they once thought they did, but that they want each other all the same.

That it's no longer about not being able to stand without one another, and instead it's about standing by his side, holding his hand, even though he's got steady footing on his own two feet.

Steve is the one to walk away, and this time? It's Eddie who comes to him.

It's Eddie who says, I don't think I ever really grasped what it was like for you when I ran. I don't think I ever really apologized. I'm sorry.

It's Eddie who lays it all out on the table and makes it clear, I don't need you to fix me anymore, I just like holding your hand.

They still have so much space to grow and change, but the thing is, three months apart helps them realize maybe they're capable of doing it together.

Maybe it doesn't have to be earth-shattering every time.

Maybe it can last, as long as they keep working for it, wanting it, choosing it.

Just because they survived the end of the world doesn't mean they'll automatically be able to survive all the small stuff too, they know now, but they have the fight in them. The want.

And that's what really matters.

[minquiec]

Why GiftedEyes is kinda special to me

Oh my goddd it's been a while since I yapped 😭 I've just been busy I promise I never stop the yap but this is uhmmm smth new that I haven't really posted about cause I literally came up w it 3-5 weeks ago but it's a oc PLUS canon not oc X canon cause it's a platonic pairing between an oc and.....GOJO SATORU OUT OF ALL PPL but yea enjoy I think

This is but a temporary diversion from jipunk hshahaha cause thinking abt moving on makes me wanna throw up cause I don't like change 😍😍 but I realise it's okay to like multiple things at the same time and it doesn't define me 🤺 so anyways

(I still love all my ocs and characters and ships and what not I never move on I just can't multitask and fixate on two things at once [me trying to self affirm LOL])

So how the fuck did I get here

How did I join the masses and suddenly become a gojo satoru enjoyer? Tbh idrk cause I've been into jjk for a while and it kinda appears in phases where I'd be pretty into it for a week and then ease out and then repeat for the next couple of months but this time round it's especially bad for some reason bc???? Hello??? I suddenly grew heart eyes for gojo satoru?? Scratches head fr but LAWD ITA SO FUN cause fanart wise jjk is a way more popular series than spiderverse and i can literally feel my starving body being replenished

But besides him being obviously a pretty boy I've actually grown to like his character a lot

So you see ☝️🤓 the problem w me is whenever I like a character I always gotta really REALLY like them to the point when I start analysing their personality to see if I actually fr like them and that's how it lasts longer than an average "he fine I want him"

And w gojo I think I realized I rlly like characters who have compassion for other ppl? 😭 but it's gotta have layers idk I have a range of types so maybe I'm just talking bs

Cause it's not rlly obvious w gojo but he's really kind in terms of his compassion for humanity which makes me ssooo 🙂‍↕️☝️😭🙏🙆‍♀️🤺🫶💔💔🧍‍♂️🗣️📈📈🔥🔥‼️🆙🆙 and it shows in the way he treats his students (ignoring the fact bro stepped on peoples faces in shibuya but you sort of get what i mean not really) and in that one line where he said smth like "no one should take the youth away from young people" and im going to leap because of his own youth that was taken from literally his birth cause of his groundbreaking, historic birth with his six eyes AND limitless

So very obviously he didn't have a normal childhood, probably put on a pedestal and worshipped which meant he grew up! Kinda weirdly! And when he met suguru he could probably experience his youth for the first time (geto!! Suguru!!! Was his first and last blue spring!!!! Blue spring is a poetic way of saying youth!!!! I'm gonna LEAP) and that youth was prematurely taken away at FIFTEEN and SSEECONNDD YEAR when riko was killed which could basically be a metaphor of the death of their youth with their morals and principles being thrown into a clothes dryer and tumbled around

And I'm not gonna. Get into how much stsg make me wanna tear my hair out cause tbh I Will Cry cause I've cried atleast 4 times about them before and I'm trying to keep my peace and they actually make me so sad bc the depth of their connection Makes Me Want to dddiiieeeee 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ they're so much more than just ahaha silly ship tgt and it drives me crazy but I'm not gonna get into it bc once again; I'm Gonna Cry

Anyways back to sat or oo gojo, he can do very easily be that cold typical guy that doesn't care but instead he chooses to hold the responsibility of the jujutsu world on his shoulders alone bc unlike the higher ups who are fucking useless!!!! He doesn't want the youth to suffer for the mistakes (they inevitably do anyways though 💔) cause I saw this tweet where he literally, could've solved the whole shibuya incident in a split second if he wanted (hollow purple the whole place and easy as that) but because of the innocent people involved he chose to literally risk vulnerability by over exerting to the max like wtf did you see that he's insane he's crazy he's gojo satoru (which in the end cost him his temporary freedom 💔💔💔 but I digress)

But uhmmm that concludes why I like him so much rn 🙏🙏 I saw this rlly good tweet where it mentions from who I believe is a jjk screen writer?? And mentions that gojos attractiveness stems from his ability to show weakness and that he isn't all invincible in terms of character and im like uuueEEEEEE but I appreciate him a lot

So ofc as any normal person would deal with loving a character, obviously my crazy ass decided "wow!! What a tragic character who's so, so lonely!!! I can't stand this and my heart cries for you so I'm gonna give you a companion because the canonical media treats you too painfully!!!!!"

Like a normal person does

So now we enter mins crazy bitch domain, my mind palace, my noggin if you will and all this takes a sharp detour to Cringeville but when have I ever gaf

A key aspect of Ruri's character is that she revolves around the failure of authorities in her life, starting from young where she is exploited for monetary means because of her jujutsu talent. I kinda made it on purpose that she parallels w satoru in a way where both were deprived of a normal childhood due to their talent? She is then failed again by the higher ups in the incident where she loses an eye due to their mistake and it's important to note that during this time (around ~2006 to ~2007) the star vessel plasma stuff happened and haibara dying due to higher ups so it really just solidifies that theme of children being exploited and burdened for the mistakes cause by the generation before them.

So because of this, there's already a different kind of connection between all of the surviving students of this time (mmm sort of minus suguru cause he went off and uhm,, started his cult and became public enemy #1)

On top of this initial connection of trauma, prior to it ruri and satoru had a more whimsical thing going on where they both have special eyes kind of (hence why I named it GiftedEyes cause they're technically both gifted in their own sense and they got fucked up eyes hahahaha) and during this time period, he's just very cheeky and cocky and she barely tolerates him bc ehhh he's just like that but he's nice in his own fucked up way

For shoko and suguru it's more of a normal friendly close relationship cause ruri's canonically likeable HaHaHa she's just very nice to be around so the 4 are in this close friend group tgt but I won't get tm into their dynamic or whtevr the fuck they have going on

So after the star ves incident and ruri's accident, she disappears for like ATLEAST A DECADE I THINK,,, TO HEAL?? (I'm still working on this but all ik is the higher ups took her away for healing) so none of the three see her again till 2018 (WHAT REALLY FUCKS ME UP IS THAT SHE NEVER GOT TO SEE SUGURU AGAIN,,,,, there's one situation where she actually sort of walks past mimiko and nanako in a public setting and she recognises a bit of his CE [this shit ain't canon, making this up cause it's part of her CT ajjajaj] but she brushes it off)

But anyways the dynamic changed when they meet again as adults in 2018 where instead of barely tolerating his shenanigans, ruri grew to be one of very few people who actually indulge his personality (as masked as it might be bc cmon now) because seeing familiar faces after all they've been through makes her sad 😞😞 it doesn't help she's older AJAJA only by a little but she's biologically inclined (ruri: oct 20 shoko: nov 7 satoru: dec 7 suguru: feb 3)

And while I say indulge, I don't mean she's actively encouraging it LOL she still has that stoic calm personality from adolescence but it's more like she turns the other way whenever he's being goofy (she buys him sweets and souvenirs whenever she comes back from missions)

And its cause like, the idea of someone who's on the top of the chain, the world even, finding comfort in an old friend makes me soooooo sssssssooooooo aAAAUYYEEUUGGHHHHHH it's what he deserves after so long so this is my coping okay and it kills me cause i think he (bear with me here lemme be cringe) would find a lot of comfort in her presence again cause sometimes it's like she's a time capsule from the distant past where he was actually happy and can't help but almost revert to the silly cheeky version 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ he may be suffering from his breakup for the past decade BUT atleast he got his girl SPACEBAR friends to support him (shoko and ruri)

Platonic love also really makes me sob cause like ,,, it's the way you've formed such a connection and affection (non romantically) strung by the mishaps and tragedies you've suffered together,,,ueueue but yea that's it i think i need to honk shoo mimimi they r special to me

[f0point5]

I just have to get into your answer to my 'ask' shortly.. 😅

Thank you for the explanation to the shift in the messages between Elliot and y/n! That actually fills some gaps in my head, because I was indeed a little irritated of her sudden mood swing... :D

"Y/N wants Max to do exactly what Max wants to do, and as far as she knows that's what he's doing." - What does that even mean? What if Max suddenly decided he wants to be more than friends? Does she then want him to do exactly what he wants to do, too? Are you saying she's ready when he is? That's not fair you know, you can't leave us hanging like this... 😅

The way you described Max state of mind met my imagination pretty spot on. He seems to be so afraid of any sort of change in their relationship, afraid of losing her. And with her dating and not even telling him right away, he probably feels like it's only a matter of time.

He's definitely trying his hardest to act like he doesn't care, but he's obviously getting more agitated and it shows.

As much as I want him to realize his feelings and to start fighting for her, I fear that as long as they'll keep doing whatever they're doing right now, he's clinging too hard to the part of their relationship he knows how to deal with, their normal reality. He won't add any sort of feelings to the elephant that's already roaring in the room.

And maybe, just maybe, not only does y/n need an Elliot in her life to figure out what really matters and for what reasons and what all of it actually means, but maybe Max does need that change in their relationship too... as much as it pains me to say that. 😄

Now I'm actually curious on how their encounter after her date went. And what you were leading onto with Max feeling the heat in Singapore... 😁 You sure you'll never publish any of it? 😏

I’m not telling you exactly what it means…that’s the fun of it ;)

I do feel for Max though. Because yeah it’s easy to say he’s just scared but in one of the bonus parts both Christian and Max’s mum talk about how Y/N and her living with him has been a stabilising influence in his life, that he has a home with her. I think for Max having grown up with divorced parents, only living with his dad and then travelling every Friday- Sunday as a kid then travelling for racing to living alone in Monaco from 18, he’d never really settled until they started having this domestic life together. Who wouldn’t be scared to lose that?

As much as everyone is saying he needs to go after what they think he wants, Max feels like he has to defend what he knows he has. And I agree with him on that.

Haha I didn’t mean feel the heat in any spicy type of way, I just mean I think he’s feeling the pressure.

I don’t think I will publish it, I think my writing doesn’t really do justice to the smau and also, I think most people prefer to put their own thoughts everyone’s head rather than read a definitive explanation of their thoughts. Also also, there’s all these gaps that people get to fill in about how Y/N and Max interact in person but if you read the writing then you’ll know and it would ruin everyone’s headcanons lol.

[angelbymadonna]

Elmax Week Fanfic Day Two- Rink-O-Mania Fix-It

While I would not put Max in Cali in canon, and if she did go I do NOT think this is how it would realistically play out, I wanna pretend that they can just be ALL HAPPY AND GAY okayyyyy??

After getting up at some ungodly dark hour and being awake and jostled around for seven hours straight in the house(last minute packing), car, airport, and plane(starting at dawn), Max had finally arrived. Leave it to Owens to buy a plane ticket. The rest of her friends were still in Hawkins for break, they'd have other opportunities to visit.

At the gate, wearing a characteristic light blue flannel and lime scrunchie, waving wildly, was El. Her hair was long enough to tie up properly, and she'd grown in the last year. Max had seen the pictures of course, that El had sent along with her long letters, and it wasn't like Max hadn't grown too, but it wasn't another thing to finally see her in person.

What hadn't changed was El's ability to act as a beacon of happiness, completely focused on her mood, if a tad oblivious of the people around her. The effect was definitely contagious. Max felt her lips curl into a smile past what they should've been able in her tired state, and vaguely felt bags slipping from her hands as she pushed through the forms of people she barely noticed and ran straight towards El. Max hugged El as tightly as if she'd never see her again, burying her face into El's neck, committing to memory the floral smell of perfume (peony) and the soft feeling of well-worn flannel. A tad dramatic, maybe, but in all fairness, it had been months since the two had seen eachother and would be months before the opportunity arose again.

-----

Sitting together on El's bed, it was all too easy to fall into their old routine. Max could probably recite the details of El's life front to back after so many letters. Actually the same could be said the other way around too. El had a way of making everything Max said or wrote feel important, so she wrote it all. El could tell you the time, day, and place of Max and Lucas's breakup, for example, just as well as if she were there. It was only fair, since Max actually was there when El broke up with Mike.

Actually, even though it took place months before El even left, the topic was coming up again. El's breakup, that is. "The more I think about it, the more I realize I might feel better if I was not his girlfriend. If I didn't say yes."

Max didn't say anything to respond to that. she stayed where she was, leaning on El's shoulder with El leaning in her head. braiding and unbraiding the frayed tails of El's string bracelet. Taking a second to process until she had to just ask. "What do you mean?"

And Max found herself holding her breath while awaiting an answer. She felt an almost anxious anticipation, or something similar she couldn't quite explain. The topic of boyfriends was like that for her with El. She'd never say it aloud, but there was definitely a reason. Max was staying right in her comfortable place at El's side and would never be venturing out into the terrifying possibility of- anything else, thank you very much. Sure, the closeness to the point of nearly not being able to tell where she began and her friend ended was a little guilt-wracking in its own right, and nerve-wracking when others were present, but who was she to rob El of that company?

"I realized that Mike wanted different than what I wanted. I cannot have that with him. But there is a different person who can."

"Who you could have that relationship with?"

"Yes."

Maybe Max had forgotten to control herself after so long away, riding the high of just getting to see El. Whatever the reason, Max's feelings got away from her, and like a dog that got off its leash, hope ran around her ribcage and left firey pawmarks on every spot. Max looked up at the other girl's face, searching for the answer to the equally burning question before it would even leave her lips and set in motion the uncontrollable blaze of change.

"Who?"

But El was just as frozen, looking past Max's eyes, through them to her mind, it seemed. The best indication that time hadn't frozen was El's breathing beneath Max. The rise and fall of her chest, directly by Max's now that she had turned around, and the air between them.

"I hope you know," El started.

Max would've waited it out. She would've waited however long it took to hear the words. But El was the one waiting for Max to finish her sentence when her gaze flitted down from Max's eyes to her lips in indication.

-----

Max enjoyed her spring break. She enjoyed pinning up countless polaroids, ones El had taken of her goofing around because "Beautiful, like art.". She enjoyed skating down the street with El and sharing an ice cream cone with El and watching movies with El and yeah, okay, kissing El. Max enjoyed having a girlfriend. She enjoyed not keeping things from her.

Maybe change was okay sometimes, even if it was scary.