#when i see those weird posts i have to first stop and remember that people dont think trans men are men and trans women are women | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-kaash-me-outside · 8 months ago

Text

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

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

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

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“and do you?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

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

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

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

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

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

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

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

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

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

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

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

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how do you know?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

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

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

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

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

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

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

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

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

moonsaver · 3 months ago

Note

Thinking back to a post you once made about Aeon Sunday… Imagine being someone who knew Sunday in the past before his ascension, only to then receive the gaze of Aeon Sunday later in life

Oh my god. I love this. This is simultaneously creepy AND oddly romantic.

Theres a lot of possibilities for this – was reader sunday's crush? A suitor? Maybe just someone he shared small talk with and actually liked it more than usual? Ooohohoho

Im not sure if its yan or not, so i just kinda.. kept it variable(?)

This ones a bit longer because i desperatley need to wordvomti . Thanks.

Achieving an aeon's gaze is strange, your discipline, morals, ideals, lifestyle, something has to deeply resonate with their followed path. Let us assume Sunday is something similar to a "dreamlike" aeon [maybe it's mentioned in his boss form description, all i remember is the embryo of Philosophy ;;]

But again, it's not exactly stated how you'd be able to achieve an aeon's gaze; i still have no idea how acheron did it [IX is literally a black hole??], because i cant for the life of me read through those huge blocks of texts in the dialogue.

So lets say Sunday's able to pull his own strings and maybe even force you on that path. He's an aeon – who's stopping him?

Its the middle of the night, you're awake in bed, tossing and turning. It feels like something in your chest is pulling, a weird sensation you've been trying to put off. Your eyes are burning from the lack of sleep, but your mind seems restless. You try to calm yourself down and think about one thing and then another, one by one, until you remember Sunday. You wonder what was going through his mind, his in-between words in that one conversation, what he could have meant..

And like that, you fall asleep. Your bones sink into the bed, your weight relaxes into the pliant surface.

And then you awake. But somewhere else. It's not your bedroom – not the familiar ceiling, nor the corner of your room with piled clothes or a messy table. It's the cosmos, littered with stars. It's strange. You almost don't notice until you try to move – you're floating in space.

You turn, and he's there. That recognizable golden halo, stretching out into the dark expanse like the inside of a star plunging into the depths, golden eyes that peer down at you; with recognition, understanding, almost sympathy, and something you can't quite place. Your ribs ache and your lungs burn when you're reminded to breathe – this is the man you were thinking about before you slept.

You wake up, panting, shooting up in bed. The familiar space of your room greets you this time. The night is young outside your window ‐ not much time seems to have passed in that brilliant moment.

You were ready to chalk it up to a dream, like the ones where you feel like you're falling and wake up with a racing heart. But then you look down, and see a strange symbol on your body, something akin to an eye.

It seems you've earned his blessing to follow his path.

And even more? It seems like you're the first person to actually follow this path.

It's strange and isolating in a way. You can awaken from the sweetdream paradise your beloved Aeon seems to have put penacony under. You gain this strange, superflous, iridescent ghost of a halo, and you realise you can use it to communicate.

You can communicate with Sunday.

But a part of you finds it pointless. you can't understand what he's saying anymore; Aeons' existence transcends language. You can only hear whispers of people speaking to you, as though it's from the corner of a room, somewhere in the distance, with one barely audible male voice standing out in the whispering; it might be sunday's real voice, but you're not sure. At least, to some degree, you've managed to make out a few words.

Some words give you information. You can monitor the true handiwork of your aeon this way. Every person's dream — sweet, deep slumbers, exquisitely woven by deft fingers, all in 7 days. You figured this when you phased out of the dream, looking down at your own sleeping body and freaking out, when Sunday communicated with you for the first time, instantly calming you down. Dream. Woven. 7 days. Those words were evident in the cacophony of whispers.

Some words carry warnings. Or rather, they're not exactly words.

When your curious hands boldly trace the surface of a particularly fragile dream, you hear breathing. In close proximity, too, as if its right behind your ear. Sometimes, if you try to wake someone, you feel the breathing; warm, and languidly flowing down the back of your collar. You've chosen to not find out what happens when you don't listen.

Sometimes, when you decide to simply phase out of the dream to take a look at your own body in reality – you talk to Sunday. You tell him what you think, who you met in the dreamscape, what he can do to make it better [since.. well, you can't exactly do much to awaken anyone or oppose an aeon]. You assume he doesn't hear you, since you don't get your whispery response, but after you catch a few glimpses of your suggestions in the dreamscape, you realise he's just a good listener.

Perhaps, even if you may be the only follower of this path for now.. it may not be as isolating as you think.

389 notes · View notes

nothorses · 26 days ago

Note

hi sorry to bother u about this, i searched around transmasc subreddits for an answer to this and while i saw a few people joking about getting dry cramps, nobody seems to know what this is. and i vaguely remember seeing a post by you mentioning "mystery cramps" in a post also about vaginal atrophy, but I didnt pay attention to the post much at the time bc at that point i wasnt experiencing atrophy or mystery cramps.

but now I'm a bit over a year on T, (my periods stopped only about 4 months ago though, because i was on a much lower dose than most for a lot longer time than most. that ~4 months ago time frame lines up with upping my dose from 0.2 to 0.3ml. i'm on 0.4ml tho now as of about 3 weeks ago) and suddenly i'm getting "mystery cramps" sometimes, it seems to happen especially the night before my T-shot day, (but i cant say that with certainty—i know i'm having them right now and my shot day is tomorrow morning, and i think thats been the case, but i dont know for sure) and they feel exactly like period cramps. to the point where i feel super paranoid that maybe i've been injecting improperly and the testosterone isnt absorbing right and my period is actually coming back. (something i often have nightmares about)

i searched your blog again for that post and did find it, (the one about estradiol cream treating it) but the wording of it is a little unclear and i wanted to just clarify that this is the same thing youre talking about? or if what im experiencing is different than the "mystery cramps" you meant and i should see a doctor

I am for sure not a doctor, and I think you should see one either way!

My personal understanding of the "mystery cramps" is that it's a part of "vaginal atrophy" that some, but not all trans folks who go on T experience, and it usually doesn't start until a couple of years on T ( which is also, to my knowledge, based on more standard doses as opposed to "low-dose" T).

Mine started about two years in, and was happening occasionally at first- always at night, and often the day before my T shot- then progressed to several nights a week over time. Nowadays I tend to experience cramping almost every time I so much as miss one dose of estradiol. Ibuprofen and Midol are the only OTC pain relievers that seem to do the trick, and the cramping will keep me up through the entire night untreated. It also tends to come in fairly predictable waves (spaced maybe 15-30 minutes apart) and right before I started estradiol, I remember getting some light spotting as well.

iirc, I talked to my PCP when it was just starting up, and their response was along the lines of "that's weird, let's keep an eye on it". I moved and didn't have a PCP for a while, so when the spotting started, I went to a walk-in urgent care clinic and talked to them. They gave me a referral for an ultrasound, and encouraged me to go to a "women's health" clinic that had long history of specializing in trans care as well. When I talked to the folks at that clinic, they encouraged me to go through with the ultrasound (I didn't), and prescribed estradiol cream because I asked them to and they didn't see a reason not to try it.

If you think it's possible this is what's going on with you, I would really encourage you to talk to a doctor, specifically bring up research around this issue and estradiol cream as a treatment option, and ask them if there's a reason not to try it just to see if it does anything for you. If nothing else, estradiol cream also treats vaginal dryness, tightness, and inflammation (other symptoms of "vaginal atrophy"), so it might be worth a shot for those reasons anyway!

And don't do what I did; if they want you to do an ultrasound or whatever else, go with it, and rule out other possibilities. Listen to medical advice from medical professionals who know your medical history and who you trust are listening to you & know what they're talking about.

#advice #testosterone #transmasc #hrt #trans hrt #testosterone hrt

263 notes · View notes

rubra-wav · 9 months ago

Note

how do you think Hazbin Hotel characters would react to a demon with butterfly wings?

The main Hazbin cast x Butterfly demon reader

Part 2 >

A/N: This wasn't really specific with what charas specifically, so I'm just doing the main cast. I'll do a part 2 with more characters, though, if it's wanted (sorry)

Reader's wings are written as colourful and proportionate to their body, so they are pretty big.

Realised there's a 10 image limit per post, which is bs. Isn't how i normally would have liked it to be aesthetically bc of that 👎

Cw: Sfw, slightly suggestive stuff in Angel's, reference to decapitation and cannibalism 💀, kinda a bit angsty in Angel's and Vaggie's, gn! Reader

Charlie

- Charlie would be absolutely delighted by you, no doubt about it.

- She wants nothing more than to be in a place that's vividly colourful and (assuming reader is a somewhat colourful butterfly demon) you'd be that for her.

- She also probably just really really likes butterflies in general though, let's be real.

- I can imagine her just staring at your wings with absolutely starry eyes while complimenting them.

- "They're so pretty ohhh my gosh!"

- I imagine her being lightly jealous, she'd love to have wings like a butterfly.

- Would probably ask if she can touch, and look somewhat sad when told no due to how it would cause your scales to come off. (Assuming reader's wings are the same as normal butterfly wings)

- It may get somewhat uncomfortable if you don't like attention, she would definitely fixate heavily on them. Tell her to stop though and it's making you feel weird and she will tone it down though.

- If not, though, enjoy the attention you're gonna be getting from Charlie over them.

Vaggie

- Vaggie would likely be a bit uncomfortable about seeing demons with wings in general due to her history - let alone you with beautiful, delicate ones.

- I think she'd secretly be hiding some angst and jealously about your wings ngl.

- When she sees Charlie fawning over them though oh boy.

- Yeah she's not gonna be happy about them then. She doesn't blame you or anything for how she's feeling as it's her issue and she knows that, but it still hurts quite a bit - especially in the beginning.

- It gets less and less bad though the more she gets used to it, she kind of just becomes 'meh' about it - especially if you ask Charlie to stop being so gaga about them.

- When she gets her wings back, though, I think she'd come to think they are cool. A normal level appreciation though.

- I can half see you two helping each other out with your wings down the line if you two get closer though.

- There are some things that come with upkeep so wings don't become damaged and stuff, so the people who also have wings? Allies 100%.

Angel

- I'm gonna be fr, the first time your wings come out he's probably gonna be panicked due to his baggage.

- Especially if it happens when you're angry.

- He's probably gonna need reassurance you aren't gonna try hurt him tbh.

- As sad as it is, his trauma would definitely play a part in his initial perception of them.

- After he recovers a bit and stops immediately going into fight or flight and seeing you =/= Val though, the switch up is insane.

- He would be all over you about them.

- I can imagine him calling you a bunch of butterfly related petnames.

- If you remember the 'make those wings flap' comments he made about Husk, its gonna be that on a hundred.

- Even if it's just joking flirting about them, it's gonna be constant because he thinks they are beautiful and it's a lot of material considering you're a butterfly and he's a spider.

- I feel like he would touch them at some point without really thinking and pull his hand back to see your scales have rubbed off onto his hand and go ''oh shit.''

Husk

- I don't think he'd have much of a reaction to it at all - at least not initially.

- Of course he acknowledges that they are very pretty, but he won't comment upon it much at all unlike the others.

- Possibly may make reference to it when crafting bitter statements directed towards you, though.

- Down the line, if you grow closer to him, I can see him as actually being concerned about your wings.

- They are extremely eye-catching and unique for a being in hell, and due to that, it could lead demons to actively target you

- Whether with overt aggressive intentions to take your wings and sell them, or with more covert problems like you being scouted for modelling (ie. By Velvette)

- I can see Vaggie and you trying to set up a wing maintenance group and trying to include him in it. Him being vehemently against it to a level that's almost comedic.

- You eventually convince him even though he's complaining the whole way through it. (He is lying and actually enjoys it).

Pentious

- He wouldn't like them at all in the beginning.

- They're big and bulky and get in the way of everything, including him.

- The amount of times he's accidentally fallen due to 'tripping' on your giant ass wings is greatly irritating and embarrassing to him.

- Possibly thinks you keep trying to kill him by tripping him.

- Could also see his 'hair' (idk how to properly refer to it, haha), accidentally brushing up against your wings with how expressive it is and getting your scales all over him.

- Basically, he doesn't like them because he's clumsy but will take it out on you.

- I also get the vibe he'd be jealous because of how eye-catching they are.

- In his mind, if he had wings like that, then he'd surely have been acknowledged by the Vees in some way.

- If you change your habits with your wings to be conscious of him not being able to walk normally and start getting onto better terms, though, he will likely become appreciative of them and stop being so pissy about them.

- They are very cool looking to him, and once his poor attitude wears off about them, he'll come to admit that.

Alastor

- He'd actually be somewhat weary of you in the beginning.

- It's nature's law that creatures that do not bother to hide themselves are not to be messed with - especially in a place like hell of all places.

- When he sees that you just happen to be particularly colourful, he drops that, though.

- He'd honestly probably be thinking of what it would be like to eat a demon like you after confirming you are, in fact, not poisonous or dangerous at all.

- He doesn't much care all that much for the intrinsic beauty of things as long as they aren't utterly ugly, and as long as they aren't obnoxious and in your face.

- Depending on how bright and vibrant they are and how much attention you bring to them, he may actually dislike them.

- If not, though, he acknowledges they are nice to look at, but again, doesn't really care about them outside of theorising how they would be to eat.

- Would probably make comments about how he could "just eat your wings up," or ask you about how you taste just to try to freak you out.

Niffty

- When she sees them, her eyes grow wide in a mixture of surprise and awe. At the exact same time, an unhinged smirk spreads across her face.

- She then proceeds to leap at you, scissors or whatever sharp object is closest to her raised at your wings.

- She'd be absolutely trying to take a piece out of them for her 'collection' 💀

- You're gonna need medical attention after she's done with you because she's hellbent.

- Her obsessiveness over your wings would vary depending on your gender but either way, she'd be trying to get a piece of them for herself.

- Definitely abnormal level of appreciation of them in the absolute worst way.

- If you can get her to stop instantly trying to cut off parts of them, she's still constantly trying to touch them. You need to complain about your scales every damn time she tries to reach out to touch it without fail.

- it's like your wings are a beacon, and she's the insect gunning for it ironically.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #alastor x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #niffty x reader #pentious x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel pentious #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel headcanon

577 notes · View notes

blood-orange-juice · 8 months ago

Text

Inspired by a discord discussion.

I keep seeing characters from snowy places portrayed as unbothered by cold or missing it, and every time I remember that it's completely counterintutive if you didn't grow up in freezing temperatures

So I thought I should write this post.

We are very bothered by cold. We are way more bothered by cold than southerners. Being bothered is what keeps you safe. Warmth is a resource.

There are few lucky people who simply never get cold (mostly guys of endomorph body type) but it's not a given and generally northerners start to complain and wear warm coats at the tiniest hint of cold.

Humans can only adjust up to a certain threshold.

For example, Irish and British winters allow you to ignore weather almost completely (you'll be miserable but you'll probably live), so there's a culture of stoicism, not heating your house above 16-18°C (60-65°F), wearing shorts and sandals (and a Very Big Scarf) when it's snowing and all that.

(I quickly got used to leaving the bathroom window open at 4°C when I was living there. who cares really)

So there's a common misconception that you can do the same with even colder weather.

However, once you are past that adjustment threshold (for most people it takes as little as -5..0°C/23..32°F lasting for more than a month per year) there can be no special built-in resistance to that type of cold (unless you are a yogi or a Taoist monk), instead you learn a bunch of behaviours that help you. You start to preserve warmth religiously.

You also start to differentiate between types of being cold and avoid some of them (some build up over time and it wears you down, so it's best to avoid them entirely). Anything that drops your core temperature (this is noticeable long before you start shivering, shivering is the equivalent of fire alarm) is a huge no. Fingers getting a bit numb from building a snow castle is nothing major though.

It can be hard to unlearn that even if you moved to a warmer place years ago.

Stoic northern characters who have moved to a warmer country are very likely to Complain About The Cold.

They'll start wearing coats at higher temperatures than southerners (because, well, the weather might get worse, or you might stay outside longer than you planned, or move less).

They'll get cold hands more often because their body panics at the tiniest signs of cold and diverts blood to the centre (my first impression of the Irish was how warm everyone was when we shook hands. I'm the same now).

Most will heat their houses to the point where it's possible to walk around in a t-shirt no matter how cold it is outside (those who don't will comment "thank gods that people don't do that in your country, I hated it back home").

They'll whine at +5°C (40°F).

Apart from heavier clothes they'll have a bunch of weird habits like Walking Really Fast when the weather is bad (it's for when you don't want to wear heavier clothes).

They might have a fondness for scarves and good winter shoes (warm shoes and a warm hat are even more important than a warm coat. the lack of hats in fantasy upsets me. scarves are less important but they are pretty).

When locals get surprised they'll reply with "yes, but this is *damp* cold, *dry* cold is different" (it's more complicated than that but this answer usually stops further questions, so we go with that).

It's not like they are actually less cold-resistant, they just take cold more seriously.

At the same time they can be weirdly unbothered by things that freak some of the southerners out because they know how their body deals with low temperatures and which things have no consequences.

(it's not something that you learn from books, it's practical knowledge of what you personally can get away with. for example, I often get completely numb thighs during winter walks, takes an hour to start feeling anything when I get home. but I know it's all right as long as my feet are warm and my core temperature is within normal range)

They also won't suffer consequences when it gets truly cold, while more nonchalant southerners won't notice when they get borderline hypothermic or just cold enough to get sick.

They'll probably consider -30°C (-22°F) exciting. It becomes enjoyable again, because the outside world is now a death zone and there's some macabre fun in resisting it. Oh, and your eyelashes get covered in frost and it looks dope. What's not to like.

Kids will make a point to eat ice cream outside in -30°C (no, they won't get sick from it). I can't explain it, it just works like that.

Generally people from colder countries are not bothered by cold if they can return to a warm place soon enough, it's the prolonged exposure to cold (even mild) they are worried about. Going out for a smoke without a coat is common.

If they are still in a cold country, it's also a bit different from what you expect.

There's a trope of drinking to keep warm. It doesn't work like that. You can drink alcohol to feel warm but not to keep warm and it's an important difference. When it's cold your body's proper response is to constrict blood vessels and to divert blood flow from extremeties to slow down the loss of warmth. Alcohol reverts that.

This means it's perfectly appropriate to drink eggnog or mulled wine at a fair (when you are supposed to get to warmth soon enough, so the illusion of not being cold is not harmful) or hard spirits when you get back from the cold (it will help you warm up faster), but not if you are staying in a cold place. During a hike through winter woods a thermos with sweetened tea and fatty food are your best friends.

Some won't know it and get drunk and frostbitten/hypothermic. People are stupid.

Food gets weird, fats start to seem even tastier than usual. People in Antarctic expeditions are known to crave sticks of butter. In certain weather sandwiches with frozen lard are delicious.

Anything can and will be made into tea.

Some tropes I personally disagree with.

Pain. Pain levels depend on the weather. Cold eases any kind of external pain (cuts or burns) but makes worse anything internal (broken bones, cramps, most headaches).

Hypothermia feels nothing like peacefully falling asleep. It's the most miserable state I've ever experienced, psychological trauma doesn't even come close.

Well, maybe there are people who do fall asleep but other people I've talked to seem to share my experience.

I'm not sure how exactly it works, I think it messes up your self-regulation, since most chemicals in your body require a certain temperature range to work properly. Basically you become Not Yourself. Your emotions go whack (usually it's either extreme self-pity or extreme anger). It feels awful. I hope you never get to experience it.

Most of us don't really miss cold.

Well, some perverts do, but there's a general consensus that cold is awful.

We do miss some things that only happen during cold days though. The stillness and the quiet or how pretty snow looks. How bright the stars are on a clear night. The colour of sunsets and twilight sky when it's freezing.

(in my opinion, the best experience happens around -5°C, it's already pretty but the world is not a death zone yet)

There's also an appreciation of contrast with things that are Not Snow.

Walking from the cold into a greenhouse with orchids.

Watching a blizzard rage outside your window while you sit in warmth with a cup of tea.

Jumping into a lake straight out of a sauna (then going back. do not do that if you have a heart condition).

Fireplaces. Holiday food. Mulled wine. Saffron in pastry.

There's also a lot of beauty in the world that is frozen. I keep stumbling upon the fact no one around me shares these experiences anymore and it saddens me.

The xylophone sound of first ice being broken by a passing boat.

Sea moving under the ice — when it's not too thick it rises and falls like some large animal breathing.

The whale-song-like sounds of ice cracking on large lakes.

There's a very special mood of waiting for first snow. The world is too cold and dark without it and then you wake up one night from the sudden quietness (snow muffles all sounds) and you know it's there even before you look out of the window,

There's the exhiliration of spring. The moment when the wind starts to have a scent — thawing snow smells a bit like watermelons but clearer. Winter smells like nothing at all.

The first tiny yellow flowers in mud. They are our hanami.

(I don't think anyone in Europe truly appreciates spring if they are not from Nordic or Baltic countries)

There's a certain attunement to the scent of ice too.

Like that barely perceptible tingle in the air in late September, long before you can see any ice.

I feel the scent of ice when there's wind from the right part of the Atlantic. No one ever notices but it's there. I love it.

It's nostalgic in a way.

But it's never missing the cold itself for me. For very few people it is, I think.

This is, of course, personal perspective and my experience is not universal. I'm a person from continental climate with harsh winters and hot summers and a city dweller with occasional visit to country houses and a tiny bit of mountaineering experience.

An indigenous person from a place with barely any summer or a character from a fantasy everwinter country will probably differ from me.

There are, after all, simply people who genuinely love cold. A lot of them. It is, however, not the default northerner's experience.

But hey, it's still more complex than it's usually written.

If you want to read something focused on winter descriptions, there's Smilla's Sense of Snow by Peter Høeg.

It's hauntingly beautiful prose and the main character is from Greenland.

‘It’s freezing, an extraordinary -18 °C, and it’s snowing, and in the language which is no longer mine, the snow is qanik – big, almost weightless crystals falling in stacks and covering the ground with a layer of pulverized white frost.’

And then there's Moominland Midwinter. I think it gets better when you read it as an adult and it's probably still the best thing I have ever read about winter solstice.

Anyway.

I think we need more good winter stories.

#'the centre of the universe is always warm' says one of our poets #and I still live by that #writing #snow

435 notes · View notes

budbuddnbuddy · 5 months ago

Text

5 weird things that you’ve eaten in the Devildom.

A/n: i thought about what foods MC might’ve eaten in the Devildom since I don’t really see it on here going into depth for any other reason than smut. (no hate to those who do, I enjoy it too)

Warnings this post includes: Freaky demon food, demon body parts , MC pulls a William Buckland ( look up what he did to a king of France), spiders with muscles, just a bunch of dumb weird shit, Mc also wears a suit, in Diavolos section, nothing super romantic happens but you can think of it as both,

5# Devil Spider Crab Sushi Roll

When Leviathan heard that you liked sushi he immediately got all giddy and excited. He was the first one out of all his brothers to try it and the first one to introduce it to the rest of them.

“Really? Leviathan being the one to introduce people to new things?” You smiled as he blushed and looked away from you, the idea of it was so rare that you couldn’t help but be an asshole about it.

“Hey! I’m a shut in not a gatekeeper! Now are you gonna try it or not?!” He practically shoved the wooden chopsticks into your chest and you took a minute to glance down at the odd looking sushi that was still trapped in it’s container.

It was wrapped in the same way regular sushi would be wrapped. Rice,seaweed, more rice. It was just the main ingredient that made you hesitant.

3 gigantic spiders legs poking out through the middle of all 7 pieces of sushi.

If Levi hadn’t told you that those were spider legs you probably would’ve thought they were crab legs that’s how red they were,but that was just the meat of the Devil Spider Crab, the fact that they were big enough to muscle and bone in their legs made you want to almost throw up.

Using your chopsticks you pluck one of the sticky pieces of sushi out of the container and raise it to your face. Sniff sniff. “Doesn’t smell like anything weird…” That’s always a good sign right? You almost place the sushi in your mouth until-

“WAIT!!!”

You tilted your head as Levi set down small bowl of bubbling hot blue sauce. Sniff Sniff. It had a strong sweet smell, but you don’t remember seeing anything similar to this in the store where you guys bought the sushi in…

“uhh….this kind of Sushi can be kinda dry….s-s-so I made some dipping sauce for you!!! I didn’t even have to alter it because all the ingredients are totally human friendly!” You couldn’t help but smile at Leviathan’s thoughtful. He really went out of his way to make sure everything could be enjoyed safely huh?

Taking up your chopsticks with the piece of sushi in its clutches you dunk it in the still bubbling sweet blue sauce, blow on it in an attempt to cool it off, before giving up and just shoving the entire thing in your mouth.

Crunch!

Leviathan watches it all with intensity, watching as you crunch of the legs of the spider, shoving the legs that poke out into your mouth before swallowing it all.

“S-so….what do you think?”

Placing a finger to your chin and staring at the floor with a hardened gaze while attempting to put the flavors together.

“Hmm…..tastes like honey barbecue chicken.”

Not really the reaction he was looking for but hey, at least you liked the sauce!

4# Hellfire Zombie Body Ramen LIMITED EDITION FLAVOR

“Holly shit! MC! Come check this out!” It was about two in the morning. You and Mammon were at a gas station a few blocks down from the HOL. It was an obviously a bad idea to be out so late on a school night but honestly when did you ever go through with your refusals to Mammon anyway?

You shuffle over to where Mammon was excitedly pointing at, a flavor of his favorite brand of ramen came into view, one that you never seen before…

“Is that a new flavor? I’ve never seen that in the grocery store we go to…” You squint your eyes at the green packaging. ‘Hellfire Zombie Body Ramen: LIMITED EDITION!!! SPICE: XXXX’ There was even a picture of a Zombie on the front.

“Thought they stopped sellin’ these but the gas station has been loaded wit em all this time! Ain’t that right Belial?”

The Demon cashier slowly blinked as you glanced down at his name tag, sure enough it said “Belial.”

“…yes.” Man if there was one thing that the Devildom and the human world had in common it would probably be their retail workers hate for their jobs.

After about twenty ish minutes, the two of you snuck your way into the kitchen to prepare for your midnight snack. Once it was finished, you had a styrofoam cup filled with the ramen that you had recently bought.

“Tada! Enjoy!” You take a look at the ramen for the first time. The noodles were a dark bloody red to represent intestines, a few specks of brain and some teeth were scattered around in the broth, finally when you poked the noodles around to inspect some more you saw a big yellow eyeball hidden in the noodles, something that you promptly handed over to Mammon’s cup.

“Hmm…” After some poking prodding, you finally take your fork and twist it around some of the noodles. Raising the steaming red strings of intestines to your nose to give it a sniff. Sniff sniff….ugh gross and smells slightly….burnt?

Whatever, you thought while deciding to just bite the bullet and take a chomp full of the zombie ramen…before spitting it back into the cup again.

COUGH COUGH HACK! “Oi! D-don’t go dying on me!” Mammon practically teleports to your side and rubs your back as you cough up a storm.

Cough! “…It’s-“ hack! cough! “burnt AND sour!” Pushing away the cup, you grab the glass of water Mammon offers to you with a guilty, shameful look in his face.

“…I might’ve been on my phone for a little too long while those were in the microwave….heh” HE PUT THEM BOTH IN AT THE SAME TIME? “a-and it was super rotten flesh flavor! S-so the sour part ain’t my fault!”

Mammon then grabs his cup and takes a fork full before taking a big bite out of his own ramen….before spitting it back into the cup as well…

“Eugh…that DOES taste like ass…”

3# SUPER CUTE KITTY MEW MEW PUDDING

You and Satan stared down in awe at the plate that was set in front of you by your waitress.

“Your ‘Super Cute Kitty Mew Mew Pudding’ with extra ‘Cute Kitty Kitty Mew Mew sugar drizzle’….Lord Satan and….human master.” The waitress then grumbled about putting in her two week notice as more cats started surrounding your table.

“…It’s perfect”

“Marvelous….”

“A grace to this realm…”

“How could something ever be this glorious…?”

The two of you are, of course, talking about the giant massive portion of wiggling cat shaped pudding. It had everything on the head of a cat, two giantic ears, 8 whiskers, a big triangle nose and two adorable big eyes-

“Mew!”

and it was alive.

The two of you spent hours cooing and gushing over the Kitty pudding. Feeding it mapple syrup and sugar packs while one of the chefs goes on a tirade about how he’s ’Sick of his job.’ and ‘refuses to make another damn cat pudding for grown ass people.’ Oh yeah that’s right, about a good 70% of the people surrounding you had their own cute cat pudding and were happily munching away at it.

But not you and Satan no no no.

…Well, at least not yet. You had to get attached first!

So about 30 minutes before closing, you can Satan scooped up a massive ear of the kitty pudding and tap the ends of your spoons together.

Click!

“Cheers to cat cafes?” He smiled as you smiled warmly right back at him, glad that you approved of his new use of human lingo.

“To cat cafes!”

The pudding itself wasnt particularly all that special, but it wasn’t about the taste it was about the effect. Once you chewed the pudding into little bits the kitty just multiplied into even more tiny kitties, now your mouth was filled with meowing tiny kittens!

“This is heaven…”

“Indeed”

2# RAD CAFETERIA FOOD.

Quietly standing on the lunch line you watch as the goblin women in front of you, green skin, red lipstick, with a cigarette in her mouth, scoop up a large amount of dark purple slop and raise it up towards you slightly.

“Move ova ya tray.” She says bluntly in a deep raspy voice probably due to all the smoking she’s done. You do as you are told, shakily holding out your tray as she plopped the mush of dark purple slop right down in the biggest section of your tray.

“T-thank you ma’am…” Her face lights up for a second after you give your gratitude, before she slams down another big portion of purple bullshit on your tray again…mostly likely a reaction from your manners. Seems like the staff here aren’t exactly used to that…

You take a seat next to Beelzebub after paying for your food, by the looks of it he was on his 7th tray, staring intensely at it.

Munch Munch Chew “You gonna-“ gulp “finish that?” Guess the uncertainty on your face was too obvious.

“The lunch lady on line 9 gave me extra…I’m not sure if i should eat it but I don’t wanna be rude…” You continue to stare at your plate while looking back at the goblin lady who was still serving a very long line of hungry RAD students.

“You mean Ms.Pruin?” Beel questions as he slides over his next plate. “She’s the best cook in RAD, her food is really good. You should give it a try.”

You look over at the goblin lady, now Ms.Pruin, once again, still working tirelessly serving hungry students but every now and then glancing over at your direction with a hopeful look in her eye.

Well…if Beel says it’s the best, it’s gotta at least be somewhat okay, right. With that you take your spoon and scoop up a portion of the purple slop and stick it right into your mouth.

Munch munch munch

You brace yourself for a wave of overwhelming foreign flavors, something nasty, something that would numb your tongue right out your mouth, something-

Huh?

“Wait…there’s no flavor!” You stared at your spoon in confusion before taking some more bites out of the slop. Nothing.

“Really? Let me see.” Beel takes your spoon from you and pops a large portion into his mouth, munching on it carefully before swallowing it all down before putting a finger to his chin…then his face lights up.

“The original recipe has an ingredient that’s deadly to humans, angels, and even some demons. She must have taken it out and given you a modified version of the dish.”

You smiled wildly to yourself before gobbling up the rest of your tasteless lunch with glee and from that day, you made sure to always get your lunch from Line 9.

1# Demon Heart.

You sat from across Diavolo at the table outside in the large gazebo in the middle of the pond. Glistening clear water so still surrounds the two of you. Schools of fish circling around you constantly, the trees droop down and sway with the wind, flowers of all different colors are scattered all around the two of you. Just the two of you.

You unconditionally straightened your tie as Diavolo stares at you, elbows set down right on the edge of the edge, resting his chin on the back of his hands, staring. Deeply and lovingly.

“I cannot express enough to you enough how happy I am that you accepted my invitation.” You sigh, glad that he was the one to break the tense silence.

“No problem Lord Diavolo, I mean I don’t think anyone would turn down the opportunity to come to a place like this. It’s gorgeous.” You look around some more, taking in all the details as you were sure that you wouldn’t be coming back here anytime soon.

“I’m sure after that long day at RAD as well as that car ride, that you must be starving yes?” You nodded, Diavolo has asked you not to eat lunch after you agreed to his invite.

“I’m glad. I have a surprise for you.” As soon as he said that, Barbatos as well as some other staff members of the Demon Kings Castle, two hidden dishes are set in front of you both. His is revealed while yours stays in front of you. Some fancy looking meat and strange looking vegetables on the side, drizzled over the meat was bright blue sauce.

“The food looks amazing.” It looked like something you’d see in a five Michelin star restaurant, the fact that he got to eat things like that every single day whenever he wanted was a concept that you were still struggling to comprehend, even after all the time you’ve known him.

“Yours is something much grander. I promise.” With those words, he moves over your plates and take your hands into his own. Looking at you with full sincerity.

“MC…by now you know of my dream for all three realms, peace, equality, and prosperity for all.” You watch as frowns in shame after he spoke.

“However…give our past with eating humans in various ways, myself included,I feel as if that it would be right to set things even. An eye for an eye.”

You squint at him, what was he saying? Did he mean what you really think he means? There’s….there’s no way he actually….

Before you could even form another thought the your dinner plate was revealed, and you could stop your head from looking down.

“…huh?”

A big, brownish, reddish, demon heart laid in the middle of your plate, right in front of you, cleaned and prepared for your consumption.

He was literally letting you eat his heart to atone for his past.

“You don’t have to eat it, I would never force you to do something. However do know that I have more where that came from, I’m sure it’ll grow back eventually.” While you only really heard bits and pieces of that due to the fact that you were still in shock, you got the message.

“….MC?” Finally you relaxed your shoulders and calmed down, before a smile came on your face as you looked at Diavolo.

“I’ve eaten many strange things before in this world. But I’ve never eaten the heart of a future demon king before.”

And before he could get another world in, you sliced up the heart and gobbled it all up, bite by bite by bite. It tasted like human world meat….which kind, you weren’t exactly sure,more like all of them at once but you were sure about one thing.

“How does it taste?”

You grin widely.

“Tastes like home.”

#I feel like Diavolo would have more than one heart #how many exactly? I don’t know #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me!#obey me mc

209 notes · View notes

python333 · 1 year ago

Text

need a ride? — python333

— — — —

synopsis ur walking home from school and theres a weirdo following you, luckily the 141 are there and they help u out!! :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap (for like 2 seconds, so sorry soap enjoyers), ghost, gaz.

word count 2.4k

warnings a creepy old man following [reader], [reader] intended to be in high school, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of y/n [your name].

note i have like 5 drafts and all of them are requests from people so im so sorry i havent been working on those!! i pinky prom once i get the motivation to write them--which probably sounds weird since i wrote this but trust me when i had to force myself to write this lmao--i will be posting them :3 i hope u all enjoy this fic, its all fluff and emotional hurt/comfort + protective-ish 141!!

You really wish you had listened to that first warning light.

For a whole two days, your car had been in an auto repair shop, because you decided to ignore four whole warnings signs that something was seriously wrong with your car. Suspension and alignment issues, they’d told you yesterday, The wheels need to be realigned, the damaged suspension components need to be replaced, and the whole thing would take a day or two.

Fast forward to now, it’s 3:30 in the afternoon and you’ve been walking from school to your house for about ten minutes. The sun is close to being fully set—one of the worst parts of winter—and there’s been a guy following you for about five minutes now.

He showed up once you’d exited the school premises and since then had been very determined to follow you home. You obviously did not want this to happen. But it didn’t matter if you walked faster, because he would only match your pace. If you tried to run, you assume, he’d just run after you, and seeing as he had far longer legs than you—you were pretty fucked if you decided to run.

You would try to call an Uber, but your phone had been dead since fifth period. And you would try and catch a bus or something, but there were no bus stops near where you live, and even if there were, you weren’t carrying any cash or any cards on you.

So, again, you’re pretty fucked.

You look back at the man again, and turn your head right back around to look ahead of yourself once you see him looking right back at you, closer than you remember him being. Is he walking faster? Do I have to walk faster?

You let out a shaky breath and keep walking, speeding up your walk just a bit and widening your strides, trying to think of what you should do. You didn’t want to just lead him to your house, that was just stupid. But you couldn’t just not go home—where else would you go?

You continue to walk, speeding up a bit when you start to hear the man behind you speed up, and you try to control your panicked breathing. What are you supposed to do? You mentally curse yourself out for not carrying any self defense on your person, and continue your walking.

Then suddenly, as if they were sent by God himself, you see four men come into view—one with a mohawk, one wearing some sort of skull mask-balaclava, one with sunglasses on even when the sun is almost set, and one with a boonie hat on—all walking together, all engaged in a casual conversation.

You wonder for a moment if you should try and get closer to them to see if the guy would leave you alone. You hear the guy behind you speed up as you think and you take a deep breath before walking significantly faster to get closer to the men ahead of you.

Am I really gonna trust a group that has a guy wearing a fucking skull mask in it? You hear the man behind you speed up as well and you speed up in retaliation, trying to think more about what to do, Do I just walk near them or do I straight up pretend I know them?

You think that the second option would be more likely to ward the weirdo following you away, but how would you even go about it? Do you just walk near them, or actually talk to them and join in on their conversation?

You look behind you again and see the man significantly closer to you.

Deciding to take the risk, you rush up to them, swallowing down your panic when you hear the man behind you’s footsteps speed up to try and match your own speed.

“Hey, guys!” All four of the guys turn around to look at you, their expressions all varying looks of confusion as you continue to talk, “Crazy seeing you guys here, it— it’s been so long.”

You try to get as close to them as possible while not touching them and end up standing right by who you assume is the oldest. You try to subtly gesture to the man who was just following you, and the man you’re standing next to seems even more confused for a moment.

“Uh, I don—” One of his friends cuts him off with a swat to the arm and when he turns his head to look at them in confusion, they nod over at the man whose just now catching up with you, and his mouth shapes into an ‘o’ before he looks back at you with a bit more understanding in his eyes.

“Right, yeah, it has been really long,” He corrects himself, the other two of his friends catching on and stepping closer to you, almost creating a shield around you. He looks you over for a moment, before asking, “You just get out of school?”

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” You nod, grateful that they caught on, hoping your gratitude is somewhat apparent, “About ten minutes ago.”

“Nobody picked you up this time?” The older man asks, tilting his head to the side a bit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man who’d been following you getting closer, but you force yourself to ignore him.

“Yeah, no, everyone was kind of busy, so I have to walk home,” You respond, shoving your hands into the pocket of your hoodie to hide their shakiness as the other man stopped to stare at you two’s conversation.

“Aw, well that sucks,” The other man frowns, before offering, “I was just heading back to my car, I could drive you back to your house? It’s on the way to the hotel we’re staying at, anyway.”

You hesitate, trying to see if the man who’d been following you was still there, and much to your disappointment, he was. It was like he was just waiting for you to make a decision.

Not knowing if you had any other choice, you nod affirmatively, “Yeah, sure. If that’s okay.”

The older man gives you a small smile and pats your shoulder, “Of course it’s okay. I don’t want you just walking out here by yourself.”

You almost sobbed in relief when you heard the creep that was following you scoff and finally walk back to wherever he came from after hearing that you accepted their offer of a ride. The older man takes his hand off of your shoulder and looks over, noticing the man has left as well, then looks back at you with a more concerned expression on his face.

“Sorry, I almost gave you away at the beginning there,” He sincerely apologizes.

“It’s fine, he probably didn’t even notice,” You put on a small smile and take a deep breath before adding on, “Thank you for that. I didn’t think he was ever gonna go away.”

“Yeah, no problem,” The older man smiles at you, and tacks on, “I was serious about the ride, by the way. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

You pause for a moment at that and think about if you trust them enough to have him drive you to your house and know your address and everything.

“It’s my car, by the way,” The guy with the sunglasses butts in, “I’m the one paying for it. No clue why he said it was his.”

“Because it was easier than saying it was yours,” The other guy sighs.

“Actually—” The one with a mohawk interrupts, before immediately being cut off by the other two with a simple ‘shut up’. He rolls his eyes, and does indeed shut up.

The one with a skull mask must notice your slight confusion, because he comments, “We’re renting a car for this week. Gaz is paying for it.”

“Don’t call me Gaz in public,” Gaz grumbles, “That’s weird. Just call me Kyle.”

“That sounds weirder,” The one with the skull mask argues, before the one with the almost-bucket hat sighs exasperatedly, the sound enough to make the two others shut up.

“Uh…” All their attention is back on you as you talk, making you resist the urge to shrink back in on yourself, “I mean, if you guys are totally okay with it, then I’d be… okay with getting a ride home.”

“Great!” Gaz smiles at you before dropping the smile and turning to the one with the skull mask, “You’re getting an Uber or something. I’m not driving you after that.”

“Wh—” The one in the skull mask, despite you only being able to see his eyes, looks baffled, “I didn’t do anything, fuckin’ kick out Soap or something!”

“Me? Why me?” The one with the mohawk—Soap, you assume—squawks, watching as Gaz actually thinks about it before nodding.

“Good point. Soap, call an Uber so…” Gaz pauses before turning to you, “What’s your name, love?”

You give him your name and he nods before turning back to Soap, “So that [y/n] can take your spot in the car.”

“I—” Soap begins to argue, before sighing and rolling his eyes, reaching into his back pocket for his phone, “Fine. Whatever. Fuck all of ye.”

“Sorrows, sorrows, prayers,” Gaz says dryly before turning back to you, “The car’s just another block up.”

“Got it,” You nod, “So I should just follow you guys then, or…?”

“Yeah,” Gaz confirms, “Stay a little closer in case that guy decides to come back, or if anyone else tries to follow you, alright, love?”

You nod again and take another step closer to the man with the skull mask and follow everyone else as they continue walking down to their car. They’re silent for the rest of the walk back, the man in the skull mask and the one with the almost-dad-going-fishing-hat keeping an eye out for any creeps while Gaz leads the way to the car.

Once you’ve all reached the car, Gaz unlocks it and the man in the skull mask and the one in the almost-bass-pro-shops-hat immediately get into the back seats, letting you have shotgun. You mentally thank them for it and wordlessly get into the passenger’s seat, happy that it’s not too dirty in the car, closing the car door once you’re in.

You buckle yourself in immediately and look right out the front window whilst Gaz gets in. This definitely won’t end up in me being kidnapped, You tell yourself, Totally not. This is the best idea I’ve ever had. Getting in a car with someone who goes by Gaz, someone who wears a mask from Spirit Halloween, and someone’s dad who somehow ended up here. Fucking perfect idea. I should do this more often.

Gaz gets in and buckles himself in, putting the car key into the ignition and twisting it, starting up the engine. You continue to stare out the window wordlessly as Gaz pulls out of the parking lot he’d been in and gets onto the road.

“Could you give me the directions to get to your place?” He asks you once he’s stopped at a red light right outside of the parking lot. Silently, you nod.

“Yeah, just, uh, keep going straight then take a left on Monroe,” You instruct him quietly. He nods and presses on the gas once the light turns green, continuing straight like you’d said.

“You alright?” The bearded man in the back pipes up, making you twist your head back to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You assure him, half-lying, “Just a little tired and creeped out.”

“Reasonable,” He hums, before adding on, “I’m John, by the way, and this is Simon.”

Simon, the dude wearing the Spirit Halloween mask, perks up at the sound of his name, but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

“Good to know,” You respond, wondering if you should say anything else before awkwardly turning back in your seat to continue staring out the window, watching as Gaz takes a left.

“Take the next right, then just continue straight and then take a right on Balboa,” You tell him. He nods and takes the next right just as you told him to.

It’s probably safe to assume they aren’t kidnapping you, You think, your breathing finally back to normal now that you know you’re probably not in any danger.

“So what’s with the name ‘Gaz’?” You ask Gaz without thinking, tired of the silence in the car. Based on the way Gaz groans and John huffs out a laugh, you assume it’s somewhat of a long story.

“It’s kind of a long story?” Bingo. “But in short, I just don’t talk too much, and someone decided to make a big deal out of that.”

“I never made it a big deal!” John insists, all while Simon looks at him like he knows he’s lying, “It’s just a nickname!”

You listen in on their bickering, grateful to finally have some noise in the car, and huff out a small, amused laugh at their antics.

Soon enough, Gaz is turning right on Balboa, and he drives right into your neighborhood.

“It’s the house right up there,” You point to it, and he looks at the house you pointed at and speeds up a bit to reach it faster.

Once he’s at the house he thinks you pointed at, he asks, “This one, right?” and pulls into the driveway when you nod in confirmation.

He parks the car in your driveway and turns off the engine, immediately unlocking the car and turning to you.

“Well, I hope you have a good rest of your day,” He says politely, offering you a smile.

“Thank you, you too,” You smile back, feeling a little bad for being so eager to get out of the car. Then again, you really just want to get inside of your house where it’s safe, so you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door.

You carefully get out and close it behind you, fishing your keys out from your back pocket, walking up to the front door of your house and unlocking it, only hearing Gaz’s car pulling out of your driveway after you’ve successfully opened your front door.

You yawn as you walk in, and close the door behind you, toeing off your shoes and leaving them by the front door.

You think, in the back of your head, about how weird it is that you didn’t get kidnapped despite that being the perfect opportunity for them to do so—but you don’t think about it too hard. You’re just grateful to have gotten home safe.

1K notes · View notes

slackerlifewhere · 6 months ago

Text

random thought #3

[Minor SPOILERS for the first part of TCF]

Cale treats his ancient powers like they're his friends. Some would say he "stole" them for his own benefit but I just can't see it that way after everything I read in the novel.

Cale, former Kim Rok Soo, made a connection with these people. To me, they're not just powers to him. In fact, it feels like he understands what happened to them and if he doesn't, he quietly listens to their stories. And the way he talks to them also feels less like a selfish person who wants to use them for his own protection and greed for power but more like giving them the chance to see a beautiful world that became peaceful because of them. It's like he's comforting them after they suffered so much in the past (which is also connected to the healing thing I talked about in my other post).

Like yeah, he's annoyed at them most of the time but he doesn't blame them whenever he gets hurt or bleeds way too much as a backlash after using them. Instead, he simply helps them achieve what they couldn't do when they died.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Cale said goodbye to the rumbling tree as if it was a person and exited the fenced area.

- Chapter 5: They Met

If he truly didn't care about them, he wouldn't get angry for them or at one point, he would've let their voices disappear in favor of getting stronger.

I like his relationship with them. Like they're the voices inside his head (lmao) and it might feel like he has wireless headphones attached to his ears 24/7 but he treats them the same way he treats the rest of his friends and family and it's really nice to see.

This is kind of the reason why I feel a bit weirded out(?) when fanfiction authors would completely erase Cale's (OG KRS) existence in the fic and replace him with OG Cale and give the other the ancient powers. Like I get people like OG Cale, I do as well, but it feels kinda wrong to see them with another person after seeing Cale bond with these people. In fact, I can't imagine them being with anyone but Cale, this chaotic little shit who gives Super Rock huge headaches and makes the others go violent for or with him whenever he's fighting with an asshole. Aside from one ancient power (if you know, you know), I just can't see him having none of them with him after everything he went through with them.

I keep remembering his almost one-sided conversations with all of them because most of the time it's chaotic but the rest are just as emotional with a feeling of deep understanding coming from him. It feels like he always has someone with him so whenever they're silent, I feel like the air is too heavy (like those few incidents when I just want to hug Cale).

I think the best description for Cale is that he's full of empathy.

So yeah, this is a random topic I thought about chaotic Cale and his equally chaotic ancient powers. Yes, I'm including Super Rock who isn't normal either. He's tamer than the rest but he's definitely not normal 🤣 I swear some people who think they're normal in the story are probably in denial like Cale is.

It just popped in my head when I saw the line about the tree in Chapter 5, which I quoted above ☝️

[Note: I'm not saying these authors are doing anything bad, by the way. This is just my opinion and I usually just skip those fics when I see them. I won't stop others from reading those fics just because I feel weird about this one thing about the ancient powers]

[Second note: This is about the first part of TCF, I dunno what happens in the second part yet but I hope to see more of his interactions with them]

#tcf #tcf cale #tcf manhwa #tcf novel #cale henituse #lcf cale #tcf cale henituse #lcf #lcf manhwa #lout of the count’s family #trash of the count's family #kim rok soo #kim roksu

251 notes · View notes

papaya-queen · 6 months ago

Text

Teenage Dirtbag babyy !! - F2/3/F1 academy grid

my first smau - please be kind I’m new with the tools

Y/N x Paul Aron - Ollie Bearman x Andrea Kimi Antonelli - Abbi Pulling x Doriane Pin

Later - 3 am

Yourusername

Yourusername I’m just a teenage dirtbag babyyy

tagged : paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, racerbia and 6 others

User1 young drivers on social media are a blessing

User2 WAIT IS THAT OLLIE AND KIMI ?!!

User3 AND DORIANE AND ABBI ?!!

maxverstappen1 stop posting on social media and answer our calls

User4 oh to be a part of that friend group …

Racerbia

Racerbia never let Y/N plan the hangout

tagged : yourusername, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, paularon_ and 6 others

Yourusername hey !!! It was amazing !

User6 AFTER BEARNELLI AND PINING WE GOT PAULY/N ?!!!

Arvid.lindblad actually the best hangout of my life

Yourusername finally who someone likes my hangout plan

Landonorris wait until tomorrow morning

The next day

Sunlight was already picking through the curtains when Y/N woke up. Her head was hurting, like someone was hitting it from inside. She tried to get herself up, but some weight was keeping her pinned against the mattress. She turned her head and saw a blond head she knew too well. Sure, her and Paul were big on physical touch but sleeping like this never happened. She carefully shifted to see the room without letting go of Paul’s embrace.

Y/N observed the room and the people in it. She could recognize Kimi and Ollie on the couch opposed to her, the older spooning the other. She had a moment of confusion, but she knew Kimi and Ollie had always been big on PDA even as friends. She kept looking around, checking if all her friends did make it back to the apartment. Arvid, Dino, Maya and Bianca were all sleeping on the floor with some blanket resting on them. And on the armchair, you could find Abbi and Doriane literally glued to each other, managing to fit in the tight chair. Y/N tried to get up to go eat something but all the moving and shifting in Paul’s arm woke him up.

“Hi princess!” he said with the sleepiest voice ever.

“Hi baby!” she responded, hugging him tighter.

Then she got up, after spending a few minutes convincing Paul to let her go. Y/N walked to the kitchen, open the door and faced Charles, Max, Oscar and Lewis. She brutally closed the door before reopening it. “Good morning, everybody!”

“Good afternoon actually!” Charles pointing the clock on the wall. He was right, it was indeed way past noon. 3pm actually.

“So, what’s the reason for the visit?” said Y/N trying to act cool in front of her 4 grid-dad.

“Humm…You don’t remember last night, do you?” Oscar asked.

“Euuh no …?” She responded.

“Well, we have a little explanation to do when everyone wakes up” Oscar sighed.

Max stood up and entered the living room to shout, “EVERYONE WAKES UP NOW!” The mass of teen made a groaning sound, some of them complaining about their head. There was also some confusion like Abbi and Dorianne who were looking at each other, not understanding the how and why they were like this. Same for Kimi and Ollie. After a couple minutes, the other older driver entered the room and told everyone to sit and listen to them.

“You kids are fucking mental; you should definitely know that! Before we start scolding each of you, do you actually remember what happened yesterday?” Charles was endorsing his role as the principal grid-dad of those kids.

“I remember that we met up here, we drank maybe one or two beers then we went to the bar.” said Kimi, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, and Y/N picked up a worksite cone and put it on her head.” Gaby completed.

“I remember something about Ollie and Kimi, and Abbi and Dorianne, like they kissed or something like that” Arvid said earning some weird looks from the four.

Bianca finished their story and added “I remember Y/N got stuck on a tree, we called Oscar to help but Paul got her back before he arrived.”

“Well we have a base to work on” Max said pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s actually not that bad, I thought they would black out like completely.” said Lewis.

“So kids, you all got wasted at the bar and started doing random shit, like sitting on rooftops, stealing shopping carts, scooters and you also did some private things, you should check your insta especially Bianca and Y/N” Charles resumed the whole night and let all the teens check on their insta and realized all the things they did while he decided with the others grid-dads to post something to try to peace the situation.

Charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 2 others

Charles_leclerc why did we have to adopt that many teens?

Tagged yourusername, paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli and 7 others

Olliebearman we’re sorry dad 😖🥺

Yourusername speak for yourself

User8 the dads regretting their choice 🤣😭

Paularon_ it hurts but it was amazing

User7 The Bearnelli and PaulY/N pic 🥹

Dinobeganovic_ never let me have alcohol ever again

Maya_weug same

Gabrieleminiofficial same

____

well that's it ! I'm kinda proud of this, i hope you're gonna love this as much as me ! byye :)

300 notes · View notes

ash5monster01 · 9 months ago

Note

Can I get Drew Starkey with prompt 2.??

First Love

Valentines Celebration Prompt

Pairing: Drew Starkey x FemReader

Warnings: mentions of heartbreak, fluff, established relationship

2. You find an old love letter from your high school sweetheart, do you reach out?

word count: 2k

Masterlist

Valentine’s Day always brought up old memories. Thoughts to a time that didn’t even feel like you had lived it anymore. So much had changed, things you never really expected too. It’s weird that it feels so much heavier this year. Maybe since it had been ten years. A decade later and your life was not what you had wanted or expected it to be. Which explains why you pull the box stuffed away in your closet out. A layer of dust covering the top and you slowly blow it away as you pull the lid open to memories you hadn’t revisited in a very long time.

It’s the big things you notice first. The pair of roller skates you seemed to live in sophomore year of high school. A stack of year books with worn covers and faded signatures on the inside. A hoodie, one from him that overtime just became yours. Then it was the pictures. So many pictures it made you realize just how much of your life had been intertwined with his. It may have been ten years since but it was still ten years together before. Trying your best to avoid your young smiling face you find a stack of letters, rubber banded together with handwriting that is all too familiar. You knew it maybe wasn’t the best idea to read one, open old wounds, and yet you can’t stop yourself from freeing one of the envelopes.

Hello my love,

Did I happen to mention just how beautiful you looked today. I didn’t hear a single thing in Calc class because you kept brushing that perfect hair out of your face and across those shoulders. All I could think about was the smell of your perfume and wishing my head was buried in your neck. If I fail it’ll be all your fault but I wouldn’t really mind. It’d be worth it if it meant I got to keep looking at you. Just a degreeless loser with the most perfect wife. That’s right, I said wife, because I’m going to marry the hell out of you. It’s my only dream, out of all my successes in life you will always be my best one. Remember that.

Love Drew

The tears that spring to your eyes are not intentional. It was just that you had almost forgotten just how much he loved you. It was still your biggest regret that you never got to tell him just how much you loved him too. Maybe he had a girlfriend or even a different wife now but that still never stopped you from checking his Instagram and watching all of his latest movies. Which is why you’re so quick to pull up his account and scroll through the posts. He had grown up so much. He wasn’t that young 19 year old boy you used to know. He was a man now, a man you had let go of in order to not hold him back.

It’s when you accidentally double tap the screen and the heart appears do you feel your stomach drop. In instant panic you realize you’ve just become one of those crazy exes who still looks at their old boyfriend’s profile. Yet you shouldn’t feel this way. Drew was always your closest friend after all. So in order to make yourself look less crazy or possibly even more crazy, you hit the message button on the top.

Hey, was just reminiscing. So proud of all the things you have done. Hope all is well.

The internal cringe is enough for you to throw your phone across the room and pray that his famed status will keep him from ever seeing any notifications from you. Yet that isn’t proven true when your phone dings with a text from an unknown number on the other side of the room. Nervously picking it up, you prepare for whatever the text may hold.

Hey, it’s Drew. I’m really hoping this is still your number 😅

I got your DM but it feels weird messaging you of all people over Instagram

The second text comes through as you’re finished reading the first one, nerves tingling through your entire body. You hadn’t expected a DM back, let alone a text. Yet here you both were and now you had to face the consequences of your actions. You were the one who reached out first after all.

It’s still me! I would have texted but obviously your number did change

You know how awkward it seems. Texting him professionally as if he isn’t the only person in the world you are most comfortable with. You don’t have time to dwell considering another text comes through.

Yeah, I actually had to ditch it after a crazy fan incident. I would have given you my new one but honestly I figured you didn’t want it.

Of course I’d want it, no matter what you’ll be important to me

You don’t want to come off as flirty but it was true. Even if your relationship had been ten years ago. Drew held your heart and gave you every first experience of love in your life. That never goes away, he would carry those firsts around with him forever.

You home? I’m in town and I’d love to meet up

It’s not the text you expect to come after the one you just sent. Knowing Drew was so close now made you even more nervous. It had been so long. Were you really even ready for that kind of confrontation? Then again you didn’t want him to think you were still all torn up especially after you reached out to him. So you sucked it up and texted back.

Yeah! We could meet at our old place, 4 o’clock?

See you then

And just like that, you not only revisited your past memories, but were truly going to step in it. Ten years ago this was your normal routine and it was weird how getting ready for this still felt so natural after all this time. This time you put a bit more effort into your appearance. If you were going to see Drew for the first time after all these years, you had to look good.

So with your jacket wrapped tightly around you, you find yourself walking to the center of town. The bustle of familiar faces walking along the streets, colors of red and pink covering every storefront you can see. You register completely that you’re doing this on Valentine’s day. The anniversary of when you left him ten years ago. Right in front of the old diner stands Drew, bundled up and holding a single pink rose in his hand. He doesn’t see you approach right away which makes you smile just slightly.

“Hi” you hum out, all emotions leaving you but happiness. You never would’ve thought seeing him in person again would bring you this much peace. He jumps just lightly before his head swiftly turns to face you.

“Hi! There you are” he grins and you can’t help the small laugh that falls from your lips. Suddenly he’s holding the pink rose forward. “This is for you, since it’s Valentines after all”

“Are you asking me to be your Valentine?” you tease, fingers curling around the stem and lightly brushing his own. You can’t believe how long it’s been since you’ve felt his touch. Red covers the boys cheeks as you pull the flower close and take in its scent.

“No, well if you want. Yes, maybe. I don’t know anymore honestly” he flusters out and all you can do is giggle as you take a step closer to him.

“I’ll be your Valentine, considering I have been many times before” you tell him with a smile and he sighs in relief, comforted just as much by you, as you are of him.

“Let’s go inside, I don’t want you to freeze” he says, hand falling on your back and guiding you towards the door. You obey, heading straight for your old designated booth. Drew watches as you slide carefully into your side before he sits down himself.

“Look at you movie star” you grin at him after a moment, taking in his grown and handsome appearance. A fresh blush covers his cheeks as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“I’m no movie star, not quite yet” he says and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, Drew I see your face everywhere I go. Edits of you pop up on my tik tok now. Who would’ve thought my high school sweetheart would be everyone’s celebrity crush by now” you say, knocking your foot with his and he laughs lightly.

“To be honest it shocks me. At the end of the day I still am the bad guy on my claim to fame show” he says and you just smile, taking all of him in.

“That buzzed hair, been so long since I’ve seen you with shaggy hair. It’s weird how different you look and yet you’re still completely the same” you don’t mean to be sappy but sitting here of all places with him will make you like that.

“Yeah, I kinda wanted to grow it out but with filming schedules I’ve had to keep it shaved down. Maybe after though” he says running a hand over his head and you just grin.

“I can’t wait” and the sentence isn’t meant to imply you’ll be spending time together in the future, yet Drew can’t help but think of that.

“Why’d you reach out today?” he cuts to the chase and the smile quickly falls from your lips. “And don’t give me some classic bullshit response. I want the truth”

And you consider your options before finally choosing to speak.

“Every Valentine’s day I go through our box of things. Mementos of our time together, because if I’m being honest, I’m not really over it. I know I left you but it wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore. It’s because I didn’t want to hold you back” you saw no point in lying, he deserved the truth. Even after all these years.

“You never ever held me back” he says after he lets your words sink in and you sigh, hands coming up to tug at your hair.

“It doesn’t matter Drew. I know you, you would’ve chosen me over going to LA. Chasing your dream, becoming a superstar, I wasn’t apart of that” you tell him and Drew sighs, taking a moment to think of his next words.

“You were apart of that. You always were, because none of that mattered compared to you. You were always my greatest accomplishment” and the words from that letter ring through your mind.

“Do you still love me?” you finally ask, needing to know exactly what was going through his mind.

“I never stopped” he says and finally a small smile pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Do you think I could be apart of it now? So I stop accidentally liking your instagram posts?” you ask and a belly laugh falls from the boys lips across from you.

“If you’ll have me” he says, hands reaching across and cupping yours into his own.

“Always” you tell him with a grin and just like when you two were 16 and first started to come here, he lifts off his seat and leans across the table to meet you. Searching his eyes you meet him halfway and slowly press your lips against his own. Kissing him like this again for the first time in ten years feels like a fever dream but it was perfect. He was perfect and still tasted faintly of cherries and coffee. He was the only thing you ever truly wanted.

And you got him back.

296 notes · View notes

strelitzia-mystery1097 · 4 months ago

Text

What killed Macaque?

Well I was going to link my first post about this but I... can't find it. Like I checked over and over and tumblr keeps telling me I made no post about lmk which... is weird. I don't know if it was deleted or it's buried in the internet but that's... fine. Just kind of annoying that I can't find my own post.

Anyways I guess I should recap.

I have never liked the theories of 'Wukong didn't actually kill Macaque' or 'LBD changed Macaque's memories' or anything like that.

But also don't like when everything is blamed on Wukong and those Wukong haters and/or Macaque 'did nothing wrong' fans paint the whole situation as solely Wukong's fault.

Did Wukong make bad choices and mistakes. Yes.

But so did Macaque.

Their fallout is both their faults.

Macaque from season 4 is able to understand that the Brotherhood were on a path of destruction and were doomed but the Monk was able to lead Wukong down a different path.

But remember we saw in the scroll that the Brotherhood during the jttw believed that Wuking was a traitor and it was only Macaque not fully 100% believing it.

We know in the og jttw Macaque was less of his own character and more of a dark reflection of Wukong. But even then we shouldn't dismiss entirely what jttw Macaque did (except for cooking a Flower Fruit Mountain monkey because I think lmk would not make Macaque be so friendly with the FFM monkeys if that was canon in lmk).

Jttw Macaque impersonated Wukong, beat up the Monk, stole the group's supplies, took over Flower Fruit Mountain, declared that he was going to do the journey with the scriptures himself, and then got into a really long fight with the real Wukong and literally like only 2 people were able to tell who's the real one (Budda and like this lie detecting bull from the underworld?), and when Budda reveals Macaque's true form Wukong kills him.

So clearly some things will be different.

But I do believe that lmk Macaque would pretend to be Wukong and would try to befriend the Monk like in the jttw. Because Macaque at this point would try and figure out what's going on.

The last time he talked to the Monkey King they had a fight. So that's probably why he just doesn't ask Wukong directly.

Also we should probably account for how emotional and potentially unstable Macaque probably is at this point if his best friend is back and working for the enemy for some reason.

So he tries to figure out that reason. But the thing is that when Macaque pretends to Wukong, it's after a major fight between Wukong and the Monk so the kind Tang Sanzang is just not wanting to deal with Wukong even after he's being nice.

So all Macaque sees is this rude and mean Monk that bosses Wukong around. So yeah he beats the $hit out of this ungrateful Monk.

Plus he would extra angry if he knows about how the Monk uses the Circlet on Sukong and hurts his best friend to discipline him.

Then cut to Wukong finally fighting Macaque.

Wukong has learned to be better and is probably seeing how the Brotherhood and his past deeds were not great, and Macaque was a part of that past.

Macaque is probably extremely upset that Wukong is taking the Monk's side and is just abandoning and leaving him again. No it's worst, he's turning on Macaque to stop him.

So this fight is probably extremely emotionally harrowing, with both of them not communicating and just having breakdowns and/or shoving down their true wants.

I mean in season 5 from the glimpse we see of the fight, Wukong is begging Macaque to not do this while Macaque is just laughing. So yeah he's probably have a complete breakdown and is hiding it under his dramatic b%tch persona he perfects after his revival to not be vulnerable.

One way this could end is Wukong accidently killing Macaque in a fit of rage or to protect his new family. Instead of killing his dark reflection he's killing his past.

But I also saw this interesting theory by @Cherllyio where Macaque's weird probably chaos related powers + him losing control of himself and his emotions while having a breakdown = Macaque self destructing literally.

I definitely hope that whatever the answer ends up being, that it's a situation where there's blame on both sides. That it was a messy situation and there's regret and pain (sudden LBD flash) but now if they wanted to, the two can finally... talk.

#lmk macaque #six eared macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk wukong #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk theory #tang sanzang #lmk season 5

112 notes · View notes

jaywaslost · 8 months ago

Text

Five Times Winnie Wanted to Confess, One Time Augustine Did

—

This has been in my docs done for ages I just never got around to posting it, written during a Cold Front obsession phase

Do excuse me if they're out of character or if I messed up any dates, I can't remember them all perfectly— Anyways, Enjoy!

Sypnosis: The first time Winnie realized he was in love was at the tender age of 12.

He hadn’t expected to think of that at all really, especially not at 4 in the morning of all times.

Word count: 8.9k

The first time Winnie realized he was in love was at the tender age of 12.

He hadn’t expected to think of that at all really, especially not at 4 in the morning of all times.

The date on his phone read February 14th, 20xx. He didn’t know why he was still awake, but something in him absolutely refused to get a wink of sleep, quite different to usual. On a normal day he was asleep by 11 maximum, with the exception of the first few days after moving away from his home (his mother was very concerned, he still remembers how she’d check on him during the night to see if he was sleeping or not. He’d pretend to the best of his ability until she left before he returned to wallowing in his sorrows again.).

Scrolling on his phone seemed to be the only form of entertainment at the time, if he got out of bed his parents would realize he was awake and he really didn’t feel like getting another lecture. He didn’t have any homework to busy himself with, nor did he really feel like looking for something else. Messaging Augustine had come to mind, but there was no doubt he was asleep at this time.

The other was stubborn, especially when it came to him staying up on weekends, but he never usually made it past 2. He would also sleep in until around 1PM every time he tried to be stubborn and stay awake longer and get scolded about it when he woke up, punished with doing extra chores. On those days he wouldn’t stop complaining about it, saying he was ‘a big boy now’ and that ‘it’s not fair others get to stay awake and get away with it!’. He couldn’t help finding his friend’s enraged expressions funny.

The blond didn’t end up saying anything so as not to wake him up, they could probably talk in the morning, anyway. With nothing better to do, he scrolled through anything he could find trying to distract himself or become tired enough to sleep and get the rest he needed.

When his eyes finally started to get heavier, he noticed a website that caught his attention. It was something posted merely moments ago, titled something along the lines of what to do on valentines day for your loved ones or whatever (he was too tired to process it properly). Out of curiosity, his fingers glided over the link to open it.

It was too late for him to process most of the words, but what stood out was the beginning of the article. It was nothing special, only the typical explanation of what the day is and why it's considered special, but his eyes lingered on a single phrase. ‘Valentine's day was a special occasion for everyone, the perfect day to confess to your crush, whether it's a friend, classmate, or even acquaintance who has lingered on your mind’ was the quote, the rest of the paragraph continued similarly.

His tired mind couldn’t help but wonder what could happen on this day, childish brain coming up with no more than the image of people like his parents, always together and in love, dedicated to each other to the point you could see it a mile away. He wondered what the day could mean for him, is there a special someone he should be thinking about? Is it normal this is the first time he really thinks about that? Is he gonna be the outcast again being alone in the morning while everyone else has someone by their side? Was he weird because he didn’t have his eyes set on a girl he wanted to…kiss? It shouldn’t be an issue he was twelve, but what if things in Saskatchewan were different or something, would they laugh at hi-

His thoughts came to a halt as the image of his one friend came to mind. Augustine didn’t have his eyes on any girls either, right? He would have known otherwise. They told each other everything, that wouldn’t be an exception!

..Did he know anything about this day? It was never acknowledged all that much in Quebec, was it the same here? Maybe he wasn't so weird after all? The thought calmed his nerves a little more than it should have.

Despite that, for some reason, the idea of being with his best friend during that day didn’t bother him as much as it should have. He felt his face rapidly heat up at the thought of holding his hand, it wouldn’t be the first time they did that they do so very often Augustine always liked to drag him places saying that it was easy and faster (which Winnie was offended by, he can walk fast too!) but for some reason that thought felt different, he didn’t know why.

If his reaction to finding out about the event was normal, this was definitely not. They’re friends, Auggie was his first and only friend after coming here. He didn’t pity him, he didn’t leave, he wanted to stay, he was why Winnie talked to other people at all even if to him they were enough on their own. Auggie was nice to him the way he wanted, he never left him out of things. The other boy was different, straight forward at best but Winnie liked that about him. He never lied about things (even if he did, he was so bad it was laughable), and he never laughed when Winnie’s emotions took the best of him. He supported him and it meant everything to the little boy.

Since they met, he visibly started feeling better. He finally came out of his shell and started crying less, eventually returning to his normal sleep schedule. Well, normal until today that was. But that's all they were, right? Nothing else, that's all they could be right? He wasn’t a girl, nor was the brunette, so that’s what they were.

..Their parents didn’t ever say anything about the way they acted, so it was okay right? Not much would change if they did do things together on that day. Would it be weird if he said he loved him in the morning?? That was the point of the day right? To celebrate love with people you like and enjoy the day together?

It would be okay if he tried to say something right? Nothing bad would happen, Auggie would probably be okay with it too. He didn’t want to be alone and he doubted the other did either, so it was good for them both right?

Winnie barely processed it when he yawned, just realizing how tired all that thinking had made him. Another look at the time told him over an hour had passed, 5:21 Am now instead of 4 when he last checked.

He had to rest so he knew what to say in the morning, otherwise he’ll mess up and forget later!

Finally, he closed his eyes and drifted off to a dreamless sleep 6 hours later than he would have typically wanted to.

It was 2 P.M when Winnie woke up, his head was pounding. His eyes hurt to open and he felt a lot more tired than usual, entirely disoriented.

The door creaked open as a woman with an appearance similar to the child peered her head in, perking up when she realized he was awake.

“Winnie?”

He really shouldn’t have stayed awake, his head hurt even more at hearing the words that he almost forgot to process his name being called. Mustering up the energy to fix his seating, he looked up at his mother to respond despite looking like an absolute wreck.

He was too out of it to really process what happened before he found himself near the lake with Augustine, the shorter kicking rocks into it paying little attention to him spacing out.

..Ah right, he was scolded for being awake for so long. Apparently his mother had realized he was awake when she went to take the laundry out of his room in the morning. His phone was warm, a clear sign he only got off of it recently. She ended up leaving after telling him to get ready for the day, that his best friend had been waiting for him for an hour by that point.

Hearing how long he left him standing, Winnie practically jumped out of bed already panicked as guilt overtook his senses. As soon as he was ready, he basically raced out the door to find his friend who was halfway up climbing a tree by the time he noticed him.

“Auggie!” he exclaimed while making his way over, whatever the other responded didn’t stick to his memory, too tired to really process how fast he typically spoke.

“-Winnie! Look at me already!”

The blond was snapped out of his trance by a flick to the forehead, blinking a few times before his eyes cooperated enough to notice how close his friend was to his face. He practically jumped back with a yelp, forgetting how he was sitting on the edge of the lake and falling into the water.

Augustine panicked and barely grabbed onto his hand, almost falling into the water himself. It’s not that Winnie was unable to swim, more that the water was cold if anything.

With some splashing, they eventually managed to pull him out, but he was absolutely soaked. Augustine couldn’t help but laugh at how wet he was, much to Winnie’s displeasure.

“DON’T LAUGH AT ME YOU’RE THE REASON I FELL AUGGIE” He huffed out, faking annoyance which only made his friend laugh harder.

It was.. Nice.

…until he began sneezing, that was.

The two ended up having to run to Winnie’s house as Augustine dragged him back by the hand once more, trying to warm him up as they went along.

The brunette ended up having to explain to their parents why Winnie was soaked when they were just meant to be playing as he dried himself off and changed, eventually making his way back to his room after Auggie had left to his own house again.

Their conversation can wait, he was too tired and it wasn’t the right time.

But that was okay.

They’ll always have time.

———————————————

The second time Winnie thought about love, he was 14.

2 years had passed since his valentines day dilemma, safe to say time (and procrastination) had eventually made him forget all about his plans.

As they got older, Auggie had hardly changed. They were still together as they were since he moved, only fresh in highschool! Best friends, like they said they were.

During the past few years, he was pressured to talk to more people and make new friends. At some point, he no longer found himself obsessing over finding out why they wanted to be around him. Eventually, the thought of being approached out of pity felt only like a distant memory or something he imagined happening, though it was far from that. If not for that fear, his mother wouldn’t have talked to Augustine’s about him, they wouldn’t have had their c̶h̶a̶o̶t̶i̶c̶ first meeting, never gotten the chance to be this close.

He may not admit or even say it all that often, but that is one thing he’s grateful for. If not for that, he’d have still been dealing with the emotional wreck of being the new kid, outcast like he always expected to be. But he didn’t need to be, it was proven to him in the best way it ever could have been.

He had come to know Augustine’s other friends, they even liked him. The first time he couldn’t make it to school and they still invited Winnie to sit with them the boy was overjoyed, almost to the point he forgot about his friend’s absence for a while. By the time the day was over, he couldn’t help feeling empty without the energetic presence rambling alongside him as they walked back home.

It was one day, so it didn’t matter that much in the long run right?

From that day on, he became more comfortable with them. He didn’t worry as much about being wanted there or not, becoming visibly more comfortable. It came to the point that it was so clear the brunette asked him about it straight up during the middle of one of their walks.

“Hey Win?” Augustine paused, nearly causing the boy behind him to run into him.

The blond caught himself the last second, stabilizing his stance enough to make sure he wouldn’t fall before speaking again.

“Mm yea Auggie? Why’d you stop walking? I was gonna fall on you!” He whined.

“You’ve been more willing to sit with people recently, did something happen while I was gone?”

His questioning look was met with a big smile, almost like Winnie was waiting to talk about it.

“Oh!! That? When you didn’t come a few days ago, your friends came up to me and asked me to sit with them even if you weren’t there, they were really nice and-”

As he continued to ramble, Augustine returned to walking. While the other followed soon after, his expression stayed the same as his ramble- which the brunette stopped listening to- didn’t cease. He felt weird about that, why did it feel weird hearing how happy Winnie was hanging out with his friends on their own? That was what he wanted, right? To get him more friends?

It was probably nothing, doubt it mattered much anyway. It was one time and a normal thing.

“You never told me why you didn't show up to school that day though, did something happen? Mom didn’t let me check on you because she said you probably didn’t want to be bothered at the time” Winnie inquired all of a sudden, catching the other’s attention and cutting off his line of thought.

“I was sick, couldn’t get out of bed and recovered over the weekend” he quickly responded, it was no lie but saying he wasn’t bummed out by not seeing his friend would be a lie. It would have probably made him feel less like a glorified pile of muck on the side of the road.

At least now he knows he wasn’t ditched, it wasn’t intentional or voluntary at least.

Winnie didn’t abandon him because of them.

Of course he wouldn’t! Why would he ever leave someone like him, anyway? He was Winnie’s first and closest friend, nobody else. Others getting to know him wouldn’t change that, if they would have then Winnie wouldn’t have put his all into proving he was cool enough they’d be friends.

Winnie didn’t really notice the look on his friend’s face, too focused on making sure they crossed the road properly. The traffic lights were green and cars were zooming past, yet Augustine’s pace didn’t slow or pause at all. Rushing forward a little faster, he pulled the other back by his collar.

Augustine yelped, not expecting a sudden pull cutting off his breathing for a moment. Winnie gave him a sheepish smile as he coughed trying to breathe properly again, muttering out an awkward apology.

“You were about to walk into the road silly, why did you get so distracted suddenly?” He didn’t say how he found it funny, knowing the other would throw a dramatic fit over that. It was slightly endearing, in a way.

He only realized he sas silently staring at the one before him for a few minutes too long until he felt tapping on his forehead.

“Earth to Winnie, you didn’t hear a word I said didn’t you?” Augustine grumbled.

Winnie couldn't help but laugh once again, his antics really were different.

“We can cross the road now, hurry up before it turns green again!”

It seemed like his dear friend was back to being himself after that mini-distraction, it felt more right this way. He was, once again, taken by the hand as Auggie ran across the road to get them past as fast as possible without the light switching colours on them again.

Winnie could swear he almost tripped 3 times during that small distance run. He should really focus more.

As he looked back to his best friend he couldn’t help but sit there in silence for a few minutes. He wasn’t saying anything this time, only staring off at something god knows where again. As he did so, Winnie couldn’t help thinking back to his thoughts that night two years ago.

Should he bring it up? They were even closer now, so it was even less possible Auggie would react badly (if he did at all!)He had the energy for the conversation this time, they were alone like they needed to be too!

If he didn’t say anything, he’d be too much of a coward to do so again later. 2 years passing since the time he originally planned to and ended up ditching proved that!

With a deep breath and little to no plan, Winnie decided to just get it over with as he could quite literally feel himself inching closer to a heart attack.

“Hey Auggie?”

Augustine turned to him, suddenly losing interest in whatever had his attention moments ago.

“What is i-”

“AUGUSTINE!’

A voice of someone they hadn’t anticipated caught both the young boys off guard. Winnie recognized her, a girl from their math class earlier that day. She was insistent on talking to his friend almost the entire class which threw him off but he said nothing nonetheless.

Augustine’s attention snapped to the call of his name instead, focus shifting.

Winnie didn’t hear the conversation that transpired next, busy trying to understand why the sudden interruption annoyed him the way it did.

It happened sometimes, that was normal. Augustine knew everyone, it's only natural they came up to him sometimes too no? He wasn’t the only one.

“Winnie I need to go for a bit, Donna just said there’s something I need to see quickly or something? You can continue without me I’ll tell you when I’m back” the boy rushed out as he was being pulled away off to the complete opposite road of the path they were going on.

Winnie found himself nodding involuntarily, hardly processing it when the words “I’ll see you when you’re back then” came out of his mouth.

They were oddly dry, not the way he usually talks.

Augustine wasn’t able to dwell on that much further as the girl, now known as Donna, dragged him off somewhere else leaving Winnie alone.

Another time, surely it’d work out by then right?

———————————————

The third time Winnie acknowledged love, he was 16.

Another two years had passed and, once again, he kept procrastinating and chickening out at the last second.

The one time he was finally about to say something, Augustine was dragged away and didn’t return until midnight. He was worried sick the entire day, what if something happened? He promised not to take long, why did he? Maybe he was dragged into something bad, maybe he got hurt and couldn’t come back yet what if he got kidnapped what if something worse happened he didn’t know what the’d do with himself if—

Their mothers were equally worried that day, apparently Augustine didn’t tell his parents he’d take longer because of whatever happened either. When he returned alone, Winnie was questioned about the others whereabouts and lacked a good answer, increasing their concern only for the boy in question to appear again a mere few hours later and get the scolding of his life.

He wasn’t hurt more than a few scratches here and there, some bruises sure but those were his own fault for not being careful as he should have been. Auggie never explained what happened that day, though. It’s not like he pressed for any further information but it was…weird.

Since then, he never brought it up again no matter how much the brunette pestered him to continue his sentence on that day, claiming he forgot or making up any excuse he could think of on the spot to avoid having that interaction when he was not yet prepared. He was procrastinating for so long it had to be perfect. That was the only thing that would make it feel worth the wait.

Winnie would tell him on the anniversary of their first meeting.

..was it excessive? To call it an anniversary, he doubted Auggie remembered the date as anything special but it meant the world to him at the time, and it does even as time passed. It was when he realized he didn’t have to feel so alone anymore, the day someone in this province finally made him feel wanted and welcome.

Because of him, he got closer to more people. The friends Augustine introduced him to, the ones who invited him to hang out with them alone, others around the school, they all wanted to know him for him now. He was the reason they started liking Winnie, the reason he has any other friends at all.

Of course, Augustine would forever stay his favourite and dearest one, but that didn’t mean others didn’t become valued too. Winnie had never been happier, people waving to him as he passed by, stopping to talk to him from time to time, it made him feel warm inside again.

He didn’t miss the glances he got, but it never felt like much of a concern.

At least, not for a while.

Or not yet.

What he had noticed was how Augustine had changed over the years, how he reacted whenever the blond introduced him to a new friend he’d make. How he tended to not respond the way he used to when they were talking about interests they had, especially Hockey.

Winnie knew his friend always loved that game. He was the best player their school had for years, close to all other members of the team and always telling him about it. H̶e̶ t̶r̶i̶e̶d̶ n̶o̶t̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ h̶o̶w̶ c̶o̶n̶v̶e̶n̶i̶e̶n̶t̶l̶y̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ t̶a̶l̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶ l̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ u̶p̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ j̶o̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶e̶a̶m̶ a̶l̶o̶n̶g̶s̶i̶d̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ b̶o̶y̶.

H̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ m̶i̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶i̶s̶t̶a̶n̶t̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶s̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ r̶i̶n̶k̶, w̶h̶e̶n̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶'s̶ e̶y̶e̶s̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶e̶d̶ c̶o̶l̶d̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ h̶a̶d̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶.

W̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ f̶e̶l̶t̶ d̶i̶f̶f̶e̶r̶e̶n̶t̶.

N̶o̶t̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ i̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶n̶ i̶s̶s̶u̶e̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶, t̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶, r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶?̶ I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶l̶y̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶ b̶a̶d̶ d̶a̶y̶ a̶n̶y̶w̶a̶y̶, t̶h̶i̶s̶ y̶e̶a̶r̶ w̶a̶s̶ n̶o̶t̶ t̶r̶e̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ k̶i̶n̶d̶l̶y̶ b̶y̶ a̶n̶y̶ m̶e̶a̶n̶s̶.

They were still friends, accompanying each other to every class and doing things together as always. It was a good thing how they haven’t changed in that regard, people always came to associate them with the other.

Overtime, it became apparent that wherever Augustine is, Winnie was not far away and vice versa. They used to joke about it at first until it became frequent enough the joke itself got boring. Now, it’s nothing special.

Sure, they walked with other people and hung out with others sometimes. a̶t̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶, A̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ m̶u̶s̶t̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ t̶o̶o̶ n̶o̶?̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ p̶l̶e̶n̶t̶y̶ o̶f̶ f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶ a̶s̶ f̶a̶r̶ a̶s̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶. But it never damaged their bond.

Winnie was planning this day for the past 4 months at this point, it almost felt funny how repetitive this routine felt by the third time. “The day he would stop being a coward, would say it to his friend’s face and wait for the response he yearns for” or whatever he always thought about, cheesy in a way but it wasn’t like he could exactly help that.

They were only walking through the halls during their lunch period when they passed by Winnie’s locker. A normal thing if not for the fact 3 people were crowded around it, whispering to themselves.

The duo didn’t pay it much time at first, preferring to continue their debate on the newest pointless subject they thought of: if oranges came first or if it was the colour. Augustine insisted the fruit did, whereas Winnie was prepared to die on the hill saying it was the other way around.

The group of 3 in front of the locker were not people the two were particularly friends with, Winnie recognized one as someone who sits next to him in.. biology? At least that's what he remembered. Augustine shrugged at the question of their names, saying it didn’t come up enough for him to remember them much, adding on how they weren’t particularly interesting enough for him to care beyond acquainting with anyway.

It wasn’t something Winnie needed to put much thought into either, trusting his friend’s judgement.

All that really mattered now was convincing Auggie to follow him to the rooftop where he could finally say what he wanted to in complete privacy, but until then he had to keep his cool and continue their seemingly endless bickering.

They were forced to snap out of their conversation when one of the boys pushed someone towards them, turning to see what the issue was. The girl pushed towards them by her friends lost her balance, but Winnie quickly caught her fall before any actual damage could be caused, at which her face turned red.

H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ s̶w̶e̶a̶r̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ g̶l̶a̶r̶e̶d̶ a̶t̶ h̶e̶r̶.

“Are you okay?” he inquired, looking between the three in obvious confusion.

The girl just nodded, fiddling with her hands seemingly unable to form a proper response. As he turned away to leave after telling them to be more careful, his arm was grabbed by her as a seemingly impulse decision she regretted almost immediately after.

W̶a̶y̶ t̶o̶ s̶e̶t̶ h̶i̶s̶ p̶l̶a̶n̶ o̶f̶f̶ a̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶, h̶e̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ h̶a̶d̶ 1̶5̶ m̶i̶n̶u̶t̶e̶s̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶!̶

Before he could breathe, she finally spoke up.

“Can I- talk to you for a few minutes?”

Winnie looked back at his friend, seemingly at a loss. He didn’t want to stay, he planned so long for this but she didn’t have plans of letting him go yet and-

The look on Augustine’s face was cold as it was on those days in the rink, his expression changing to one Winnie couldn’t read in mere seconds after they were talking normally only moments ago.

At least that's what he thought, it’s what that looked like anyway.

“You can go, it’s fine” the brunette said, though Winnie knew better than to believe his tone was one of someone who really didn’t care what he did. He knew better than that, Augustine was annoyed, but what for?

It seemed like the girl took that as an invitation to drag him away, almost tripping Winnie in the meantime. Her friends cheered her on as Augustine only turned around and walked in the opposite direction instead of waiting for him to return after or interrupting her for dragging him off like that.

Whatever side of the school she was taking him to he didn’t quite notice, only realizing how far they’d gone when she shoved a letter into his hands and refused to look at him. Winnie could easily guess the implications of that, seeing the heart sticker on the front of it.

It was about to be a long conversation, one he didn’t want to be a part of.

Why was it so difficult for things to work out when he wanted to come clean?

Maybe another time, surely.

———————————————

Winnie was 18 when they grew apart.

Their separation started slow, over the course of a few years.

It wasn’t entirely like that of course!- they were talking less is all, not really separate. They still hung out at school sometimes like they used to and sat together in one or two classes, W̶i̶n̶n̶i̶e̶ f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ d̶r̶a̶g̶g̶e̶d̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ e̶l̶s̶e̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ o̶f̶t̶e̶n̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ n̶o̶t̶, A̶u̶g̶g̶i̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ s̶o̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ o̶f̶ a̶ p̶r̶o̶b̶l̶e̶m̶ r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶?̶

They walked together after on their home, but Auggie never looked at him if he could help it. When he did, something felt wrong. Instead of the warm looks he always received when they were kids, it was like looking at a stranger.

Any conversations they had were started by him and died out quite quickly, the other giving the bare minimum of a response if not just nodding and moving along. The blond never figured out how to get him to talk like they used to again, nor the reason for the sudden change.

Something he noticed more and more as he approached his friend was the way the other would scoff, as if annoyed by his mere presence. Winnie remembers staying awake night after night thinking and trying to understand what happened, where he went wrong, what he did to make things this way.

He looked through every conversation he could find, recounting every single one he could remember trying to find what about him led his friend to being unhappy about his presence after so long.

Could it be that Augustine had grown tired of him?

Winnie shook his head- he was too tired to be thinking of this at the moment. They would be heading back home in a bit, it was 3:00 anyway, a few minutes left before the bell rings.

He would approach Auggie and have a proper conversation again if it was the last thing he did!

…He didn’t realize how hard that would be until he was already looking for the other, trying to make up any topic so they wouldn’t walk in silence again, and fate didn’t seem to be on his side as he found the person he was in search of before conjuring anything up.

Despite the cold air between them, Augustine still waited for him at the gate so they could walk back together. It made Winnie feel more at ease, knowing he at least didn’t mess up badly enough to get ditched entirely.

He didn’t respond to anyone calling him as he speed-walked over to the brunette, not wanting to make him wait longer than he already did. Heavens know the last thing Winnie wanted now was to have Augustine ditch him because he took too long.

As soon as he arrived, the brunette turned around and started walking down the path that's been imprinted into their memory over the years. It was always a routine of theirs to walk back together, the company was nice. The few times they were separated by something happening always ended up in an apology or hangout later that day to make up for the time.

Winnie both loved and hated how this walk started to feel overtime. The silence wasn’t comfortable as it used to be, his friend didn't look like he planned to break it either. As expected, the job fell on his shoulders.

The further they went, the worse it got. The familiarity of the path at least allowed him to space out and think more about what to do to make things less awkward.

It seemed as if his brain had other plans, by the way it didn’t cooperate. Whatever, they knew each other for years. The last few conversations couldn’t keep repeating, they’d never improve again if neither of them spoke up.

“Hey Auggie?” He began, with little clue as to where he planned to go with the conversation.

For the first time that day, Augustine looked up at him. “Yea?”

“I heard you had a test today, how did it go? Math right?” Winnie did not in fact hear of a math test, let alone one at all. A friend of his mentioned stressing over one the week prior and he just asked that based on someone else who probably wasn’t even in the same cla-

“Another calculus one, yes. Absurdly soon seeing when the last one was” he responded, looking back to the street instead of the one next to him.

That was something Winnie could work with, a start somewhere.

“How did it go? You were always complaining about that subject then finishing all the work before I even got halfway through the page, it was impressive”

There was a shift in Augustine’s expression, small, but noticeable. It was a good confirmation he was doing alright so far, which was all he needed.

The shorter just shrugged at the question. It was how he always reacted to those sorts of inquiries, Winnie couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.

H̶e̶ m̶i̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ w̶a̶y̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ s̶t̶i̶f̶f̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ a̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶o̶u̶n̶d̶.

“How'd you know there was a test to benign with? We’re in different math classes” Augustine may have been staring at the road still, but he was less focused on their path more at kicking the rocks he found on the way. A classic thing he did, trying to get them to go as far as possible.

When they were younger they used to try and see who could do it better, but Winnie eventually grew out of it. Of the many things that changed about Augustine, that habit was not one.

“A friend was complaining about it the last time we talked, I assumed you might have the same teacher and I was right!” He answered. What to him seemed like a simple answer made Augustine pause. Pause for a lot longer than he should have as his expression shifted again.

..Winnie didn’t think he said anything wrong, did he?

Augustine didn’t respond, opting to go back to walking faster than before rather than say a word.

They would be silent again if he didn’t continue, it was going well for once his friend responded with proper sentences again instead of gestures or small sentences.

“I’m sure you did great, Auggie!” He saw the other smile and roll his eyes at those words, s̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶l̶y̶ r̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶d̶?̶.

The direction he was going in seemed to be exactly what was needed, so Winnie went on. “Did you go to hockey practice last Friday? I had to miss it to help my parents with stuff after school but I couldn’t stop thinking about that”

Augustine scoffed and Winnie hesitated to say anything else as a strange feeling set in.

“I went, everyone kept asking about you though”

“That’s so nice of them, I didn’t-” He was cut off by the feeling of his wrist being grabbed roughly.

“What was that?”

Winnie blinked awkwardly, just noticing the expression on the other’s face.

“I just..said that it was nice?” Augustine held onto his wrist tighter at that.

“Don’t play dumb, repeat what you said again I dare you.”

He was angry.

Despite everything, Winnie had never seen the other angry with him. He saw him annoyed, yelling at others from time to time, but never him. Especially not while grabbing his arm like it had offended him somehow.

“I didn’t say anythi-”

“You think I’m stupid don’t you? I heard you, coward.” The brunette let go of him and Winnie held the now slightly reddened wrist as his confusion only grew.

“Of course you didn’t. Whatever, I’ll see you later.”

Before Winnie could respond or reach out to stop him, the other stormed off in the opposite direction on his own but not without sending him a glare before he left.

He messed up again.

The problem was he didn’t know what he said.

Did he not like hockey anymore? Was that topic a bad idea?

For the first time, Winnie felt like their end was near.

He didn't know how long he stood in place before his legs finally started moving again, what he did know was the chances of fixing their friendship were lower than they were previously at the start of the day. The Augustine he knew and the one he was faced with felt like different people now.

It was like there was a stranger in his skin.

———————————————

Winnie was 18 when he wished he never thought about love at all.

A long time had passed since his last conversation with Augustine, and it was now the summer.

Their relationship only got worse after the conversation on their walk back to their houses, always off when the other one is present.

If anyone asked Winnie if he expected this only a few years prior, he would be beyond confused. The boy couldn’t have predicted a fallout as bad as this one.

He was going to move soon, they didn’t need to deal with this much longer.

That was what he thought, at least. When it came to the day right before they moved, their parents made them hang out together again. Instead of what they may have typically done a while back, they opted to go on one last car ride together to talk one last time.

It wasn’t like the fact they grew apart this badly wasn’t his fault. He’s the one who stopped talking despite Augustine’s attempts.

He’s the one who never responded after…

H̶e̶ n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶d̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶ a̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ c̶l̶a̶s̶s̶e̶s̶, c̶l̶u̶b̶s̶, a̶n̶y̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶y̶p̶i̶c̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ t̶o̶g̶e̶t̶h̶e̶r̶. H̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶a̶i̶d̶ a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶.

Winnie was beyond nervous, but to say he wasn’t excited was a lie. As much as he may have avoided acknowledging it, he missed the other dearly. D̶e̶s̶p̶i̶t̶e̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶, h̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ l̶o̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶n̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶d̶e̶ i̶t̶ h̶u̶r̶t̶ w̶o̶r̶s̶e̶.

He grabbed the nearest pair of glasses and rushed out the door.

A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ u̶s̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ j̶o̶k̶i̶n̶g̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶k̶e̶ f̶u̶n̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ o̶n̶e̶s̶ a̶n̶d̶ t̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.

He found the other waiting for him outside, avoiding eye contact which Winnie didn’t blame him for. They got into the car in silence, the drive continued that way for a while.

Winnie didn’t know what to do, so he pretended nothing happened. He was too focused on making sure his legs don’t go numb while he’s driving, the last thing they needed was a car accident.

As if life was trying to make things hard for him intentionally, that's exactly what they found themselves set up for.

Stranded in a frozen car, suddenly in the middle of winter, dealing with situations beyond their comprehension after a fight in the car.

First staring at the frozen corpses of their child selves, being chased by an..elk-bear monstrosity, falling into what looked like an endless hole, the list went on..

Augustine was searching for a way to leave the entire time, to figure out what happened, but Winnie was unable to get himself to move or put in the same effort.

They were currently in his house, or what looked to be it, and Augustine was searching the rooms. He was sitting on the piles of boxes trying to think of something to help, trying not to freeze to his death.

His gaze lingered on the stairs as memories played out in his mind.

The day he fell down the stairs and broke his legs, the way Augustine left.

When he tripped and was found by someone else, when he waited for Augustine’s return before he passed out for it to never come.

When he truly started questioning the very core of their relationship.

He was not.. Angry. He was confused.

Months later, he still didn’t have an answer as to why. He didn’t know what they were anymore, and it hurt.

It hurt worse than anything, but he didn't blame the other. Augustine didn’t act without reason, he wasn’t the irrational type.

The phrase Augustine said moments before was looping endlessly in his head.

Before he fell- before Winnie LET him fall.

Begging him to hold onto his hands properly and pull him up.

“Please don’t let go. I’m your friend. We’re friends.”

The silence that followed will haunt him.

“We are friends, right?”

The same question he asked himself for months.

He was dragged out of his trance hearing mumbling behind him. Augustine was standing there, a dark look in his eyes.

Darker than Winnie had ever seen from him.

He was..worried.

“Auggie?”

The mumbling continued.

“Augustine? Hello?”

No response.

It took a while for the other to respond, he seemed just as confused as he was.

His chest felt heavy as they both stood there, while he could blame it on paranoia caused by the situation as they are both standing on top of a staircase reminding him of the fall, it wasn’t that.

They needed to talk.

They couldn’t go on like this, one of them needed to do something to break their silence.

Augustine tried and was either met with nothing before or what had happened when they were in the car, it was only right that he began.

“..We can’t go on like this.” He began.

Augustine’s eyes shot up to meet his and Winnie’s, and for the first time in a while he felt familiar.

He continued talking, only pausing to take a breath knowing if he stopped he would freeze up. For the first time in years, he saw himself getting through to his friend.

When he finished, he saw the way Augustine’s lips quivered, the way he shook slightly, he looked the most fragile he ever has. Like a single gust of wind could break him apart. Winnie hated seeing the one he looked up to and loved so dearly look that way, knowing he was part of the reason only made him hate it more.

The dams broke as Augustine’s words spilled out, years of struggle being put before his very eyes.

His chest felt tight, he never thought actions he never thought much of hurt the other this badly, yet here he was listening to it all.

Responding was something he didn’t feel himself do, more truthful than he ever was.

Pouring their hearts out in his house while it was snowing indoors was never something either of them expected to do, but here they were.

“There’s nothing in this world that can replace you.”

“I’m sorry…! I’m really sorry…!”

“I should’ve respected your line…!”

“I should’ve thought about how you’d feel, I should’ve put myself in your shoes…!”

“But I was too blinded by admiration back then that-”

“I couldn’t see that you were my one and only friend before my hero!”

“It must’ve been so frustrating… It must’ve been so upsetting…!”

“You don’t have to forgive me, I know apologizing now won’t change the past…”

“But I just want you to know this…!”

Winnie could hardly process a single word coming out of his mouth, Augustine stood in front of him with his mouth agape taking in everything.

He took that as an invitation to continue.

“You are the coolest and brightest person I have ever met in my whole life, Augustine!”

“I was only able to do all the things I’ve accomplished so far because you encouraged me back then…!”

“Because you gave me hope. You work hundreds, thousands, million times harder than me… And I remind myself every day how lucky I am to have ever met a friend like you…!”

“...-You’re amazing like that!-..”

Winnie’s heart ached at every tear that dropped, the other tried to stop but he couldn’t. They momentarily panicked when he couldn’t breathe through the tears, but it was only expected after such a long time of bottling everything up.

Everything felt worth it again when he saw his smile.

The one he knew, the smile that drew him in from the start.

This was the Augustine he knew.

They had to get back to reality, if his theory was correct then he knew how to do so.

They just needed to hurry up before their time runs out, Winnie believed in them, they could do it together.

He finally felt complete again, the hole in his heart filled simply by a single conversation.

Maybe he didn’t regret thinking about love all these years, all he needed was a reminder.

A reminder was exactly what he got, and he could not be more grateful for it.

For the first time in years, they were truly friends.

They were not alone.

———————————————

It had been around 3 months since the car accident.

Since the two were trapped in an upside down car, experiencing a world made up of their own horrors.

Since they finally, truly became the friends they always thought they were.

The speech they had, the chance to finally bond again and come clean about everything, took so much more weight off of Augustine's shoulders than he could have ever imagined it would. Sure, the cost was a broken leg, but it also meant that Winnie got to stay longer too.

Augustine could never describe how it felt looking at his friend again, finally seeing a friend rather than a competitor. Someone to relax around again rather than someone he was inferior to. Winnie did all he did to be like him of all people and all he saw were false attempts to tear him down and take his place.

Part of him can’t imagine that anymore, the same part that yearned to talk to Winnie again since the accident the winter before that. The same part that kept him up at night about not helping, not doing something, anything to help him when he fell down those stairs and broke his legs.

He had one broken leg and support yet he was still struggling, still healing from the consequences of it. It had made for a fun joke though, making Winnie bring or do stuff for him because as the driver it was easy to blame him for the crash and therefore the break. At first Winnie looked incredibly guilty when it was brought up, going silent before apologizing so unlike himself. It took a few weeks to get him to see it as the joke it was, but when that worked he never got to live it down.

It wasn’t like he seemed to mind though, frequently asking Augustine if he wanted anything else after he brought up the idea of feeling like having something of any sort and getting up on his own, even if it was merely a passing thought or mood.

It was…nice.

What was not nice on the other hand was the days itching closer to the new moving date.

Augustine finally healed, which meant Winnie would be moving soon.

He would leave to go to the college they both wanted. Oddly, instead of sparking feelings of anger or envy this time, he felt more melancholic about the thought.

As the day came closer and closer, a sense of emptiness overtook him. Winnie was the same, they hung together a lot more than they have in the last few years as a whole, but the departure always felt wrong.

Despite their talk, they both knew there were still words unsaid between them. Neither of them had the guts to come clean about them, but they both knew something was still missing.

Augustine’s realization came when he felt funny after hanging out with Winnie for a while. The taller had gotten tired after their outing, falling asleep on him at some point during their conversation. He didn’t notice at first, too distracted going on about some topic that came up. He was a man of strong opinions, and those opinions he was gonna tell.

He only noticed when the sound of soft snoring reached his ears. The blond was fully leaned up against him, sound asleep.

This was..the most relaxed Augustine saw him in some time. It had been a long time since they were in a position like that, he never counted, though.

He couldn’t help but stare, a̶d̶m̶i̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ looking at the other. He had changed over the years (obviously), both mentally and physically as expected. He was a lot taller now, as opposed to the little height difference they had as children. Despite that and his generally bigger build, he still carried that gentle air around him, something he welcomed, really. A threatening Winnie didn’t sound very entertaining, he’d know by now.

Only after Winnie left did he realize how much..lighter? He had felt it. Something was different, but not in the same way as before. It was good, or at least so he thought. It didn’t feel suffocating or unfamiliar.

…He had fallen again, hadn’t he?

Augustine tried to push that thought away for days, as the thought of it made his brain hurt too much to think about it. He couldn’t be bothered and quite frankly preferred to ignore the existence of those feelings as a whole! And so that's what he did.

Winnie would move soon, the feelings would fade, they’d go back to just being best friends and he’d NEEEVER have to think about it again!

..or that's what he’d hoped, and oh how wrong he was.

The days passed fast. Faster than they should have, both of them hated it but time wouldn’t slow down for them. Afterall, it’s their own fault they didn’t speak for a long time, they lost their spark and almost burned down their friendship entirely out of their own stupidity.

That's why it didn’t feel real when they had to say goodbye. They may have nearly split apart, but they were always near. Winnie never felt as comfortable as he did with Augustine around anyone else, and Augustine never felt complete without him there.

It made his stomach churn.

“Don’t you dare end up falling down another set of stairs in that college will you? I can’t help you there to pay this back” The brunette half heartedly complained, visibly struggling to come up with anything to say.

“I won’t, I won't! You don’t set things on fire in exchange, deal?” Winnie giggled.

“That was ONE time-”

“One too many!~”

The sound of a car horn cut Augustine off before he could throw a witty response back at his companion, Winnie’s parents telling them to hurry up before they were late.

Whatever happy mood they were in dissipated as fast as it originally came along, both of them going silent.

“..You’ll come back eventually, right?” Augustine asked in a voice far quieter, smaller, than Winnie ever wanted to hear from him. It wasn’t right.

“Of course I will!” he shot back almost immediately, almost offended the other thought that at all. Really who did he take him for?

“Good, who else would praise elks for existing the same way you do every christmas?” Going back to the previous atmosphere and feel of their conversation felt better than keeping the heavy feeling their goodbye gave. At least one last bit of entertainment for them.

Though it couldn’t last long, Winnie’s parents were clearly getting impatient to the point both boys saw it without sparing them more than a simple glance.

“They’re still better than your bears, but we might need to continue this conversation another time, being late is hardly ideal for moving again, you know?” Although it was meant to be a joke, Winnie’s tone failed to convey that, sounding more down than anything.

“Stay safe on the car ride then you idiot”

“That's hardly up to me,but I can try?”

“Good, I’ll never let it go in the afterlife if you don’t” The eyeroll Augustine did could be felt, without even looking at him.

“I get it I get it, goodbye for now then? I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise you” Tone changing from his usual up-beat one, Winnie gave his friend the last hug they would have for a long time.

Augustine didn’t hesitate to return the hug, hardly keeping himself together at all.

“I guess so”

“Do you not even want to say anything to me anymore? Im hurt</3”

Augustine sighed, his mind felt like too much of a wreck to process the events that followed.

They both had to separate as Winnie walked to his parents’ car, whatever washed over Agustine really decided to do so at the worst time possible because not even a moment after the other had turned around, he found himself blurting out the one sentence he was trying to avoid and forget about for months.

‘I love you’

Every part of him that hoped Winnie didn’t hear him was let down as he paused and turned to look at the brunette, who was processing the fact those words came out of his lips at all.

Opposed to what he was expecting, the one in blue smiled at him with a smile more genuine than he has ever seen from him.

“That will be something else we talk about when I come back” he said, voice maintaining the calm feel it carried with it earlier in the conversation.

“I- uhm- oka. Yes, it will be” Augustine stuttered, trying to gather his nerves and thoughts as fast as possible. What was that??

“For the record, I love you too”

With that, he turned and ran to the car, not hearing whatever the other said after him. Whatever he yelled out was a topic they were to tackle later.

Finally, after 6 years of pining, Winnie no longer felt strange.

His love was requited.

#angst #fluff #ship #augustine orlov #cold front #cold front augustine #cold front game #cold front winnie #winnie bosko #augwin #gay gay homosexual gay #they kept getting inconvenienced #5 + 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction

210 notes · View notes

withoutyouimsaskia · 9 months ago

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

315 notes · View notes