#and like there were two endings and this was the one that pissed me off LESS

[brailsthesmolgurl]

LOSE YOU TO LOVE YOU

Preview: You had to lose your lover to protect them against harm but what happens when someday, fate connects the two of you again? Warnings: Angsty but yes to fluff too, slightly-slightly suggestive towards the end! this is gonna be a bit of a lengthy read as always

P.S: This is an extremely detailed request by one of you guys, its a bit challenging for me to write it hence I decided to take it upon my own twist for the story. Or else, I might actually get so demotivated to write this piece and I do not wish for that. Overall plot would still be half-preserved but I had decided not to use any names just for the overall inclusivity for other readers. Great ideas should be shared and I think my readers would like to be included too in this wonderful plot :)

"What...what have you put into this y/n?" Rafayel stumbled, the mug slipped out of his hand when his legs started buckling beneath him. He was in disbelief as he watched the mug broke upon impact against the hard tiled floor. It was like time had slowed down for him and he could only blame the orange juice he had drank. "Y/N!" He calls out to you again, hands now clasping onto his slender neck when he slowly crumpled to the ground. Yet, his calls for you fell upon deaf ears, four walls on each side of the room watched him suffer.

You peeked over the heavy door leading to his room and your eyes watered at the sight of your fiance lying motionless on the ground. Knocking him out is the only way you can think of the moment you were threatened by an elite group of assassins. They are the reason behind his bounty value--that had exceeded by two million-- and they presented the only option for you to 'save him' is by leaving him.

They cornered you on one of the days when you were out dealing with Wanderers. Although you are fairly combative, one woman against a dozen of elite assassins would not grant you a survival route. Hence, you were practically forced to listen to their proposal. Not much details were disclosed to you about why they were willing to retract the bounty for your fiance but you figured if he could live a better and safer life without a bounty hung on his head then why not? Even if you were to be at their disposal.

"Leave him and he shall walk like a free man he once was." You remembered the grim voice of a man as he relayed the terms and conditions to you. "We do not seek a confrontation here as you are with child."

Flashing back to the present, you lightly rubbed your belly, still wondering how they know of your pregnancy when it was not even announced to Rafayel. This further tells that those assassins are not to be messed with. "I am sorry." You knelt down beside your lover, studying his peaceful features as he was snoozing. "I am sorry I have to do this to you. I promise you that I will be back for you when the time is right." Pushing yourself off of the floor, you left without turning your head back. Each step taken ripped your heart out of your chest even more.

Years had gone by, with you disappearing off of the grid and went into hiding. During then, you had been living under a pseudonym, revamping your whole image and identity to go full on undercover. You did this because you did not want Rafayel, nor anyone from your past to track you down. However, peacefulness does not last long when news of Rafayel’s bounty is on the rise again and it got you wondered what he could have done to piss them off. You did some digging yourself. With the help of your new identity, you can slip in and out of the clubs without a worry. Eavesdropping just enough to get the information you need to propagate further in tracking down the same man who once threatened you to leave Rafayel.

The trail has led you back to Linkon City and you stood at the balcony of the unit you had rented, overlooking the scenic view of the concrete jungle below. The city has changed a lot since the last you had been here and that is probably years ago. “Mummy.” A child-like voice snapped you out of your reminisce and you looked down, watching the toddler walking up to you. A perfect photocopy of your ex-lover; with dark purple locks smooth to one’s touch and eyes the same as his hair. He is like a doughy-faced version of Rafayel. The child that you bear while you left Rafayel now stood in front of you, eyes full of hope before another similar face joins him. Yes, you gave birth to twins. The other is yet another photocopied version of Rafayel, but adorns the eyes as deep as the blue sea. That is how you manage to tell them apart from one another.

“Mummy you okay?” The blue-eyed toddler followed up with the question. Although only been in this world for three years, the both of them had grown so much, not only in terms of height but also knowledge and other aspects that would commonly be found within a toddler’s growing age. They inherited Rafayel’s artistic talent; always doting on painting to pass time whenever you are home with them. Whereas from you, they certainly are highly adaptable and smart. “We go for walk mummy?”

“Yes, let’s go for a walk.” You stood upon and went over to the front door to grab your coat, handing the twins their coats as well. “Put them on alright, the night is going to be chilly and I do not want you guys to be sick.” Out of habit, you slotted your baseball cap right over your head. It is a good strategy to not stand out from the crowd when you get to shield parts of your face at certain angles. You grabbed your wallet and phone and proceeded to walk out with the twins.

Nights in cities are never boring; with bustling traffic and chatters hailing from crowds. This was what you had missed out on for the past years. Staying by the countryside does have its perks but still, you missed the noises of a city that is alive. Dank pathways were sprawled out at the park as you walked with your toddlers by your side. The rain had just subsided and it smelled of dew and silt. But, something seemed off. There were hints of metallic smell in the air, a smell closely resembled to fresh blood. You stopped in your steps and started scanning the area, your ears perked up to maximise picking up even the slightest of gales. “I’m scared mummy.” Your toddler had seemed to pick up on the shift of aura as well.

A twig snapped and you too, snapped yourself towards the source of the sound, shielding your kids by pushing them behind you and hands dug deep into your coat, ready to draw out your weapon if danger ensues. Your eyes were narrowed into slits, relying on dimly lit street lamps to highlight the bushes in front of you. “You know what you should do right?” You looked down, watching your toddlers nod towards you. They were already trained from young to flee should there be any situation that requires them to. Both of them have a watch equipped with a navigation system that will lead them directly to the nearest police station or anywhere that is a confirmed safe house for them. With that, you ushered them and watched as your kids held hands with one another and started to tread lightly out of the park, the watch illuminating their way.

You pulled out your gun the moment an amorphous figure emerged from the bushes and before it could reach you, it burst into flames, screams of agony like a banshee on a killing spree tore through the empty park. Luckily, your children had already fled and a beep on your watch notified you that your kids are safe, and they are currently back to the unit that you had rented. You lowered your gun and stared at the tallowing figure in front of you, the blazoning red tinge of flames looked familiar, it was as if you had seen it—“Y/n?” You blinked, looking up to find another figure emerging from the same path taken by the man who had now disintegrated into ashes and blended into the night skies. “Is that you?”

“Rafayel?” Your jaw dropped, watching him emerged from the bushes. It must be because you missed him so dearly that your mind decided to deploy a mirage of him amidst danger right? It’s like those final wish scenes and you could not help but feel goosebumps slowly drawn to the surface of your arms. “You’re not real.”

The man in black clomped over and you stumbled backwards, gasps fleeting out of your lips as you thought you just saw a ghost. “Careful.” The grip on your arm gravitated you back to reality. You are now staring right into the eyes of your ex-lover, the same guy you thought was killed because there were no news of him anymore. The same man that you were forced to leave in order to protect his safety. The love of your life, the father to your twins. “You are back.” He enveloped you into his arms, his breath disheveled, his tone of voice ebullient. You were expecting a frustrated Rafayel, not forgiving you for leaving him, not acknowledging your existence because you had left him so suddenly without a reason.

Yet, you could not seem to fathom his current state as he held you tightly in his arms. Rafayel had been nothing but the bearer of a deft husk of a ‘widow’. Ever since he woke up to an empty home, he became relentless. Thomas too, was greatly affected by his melange of emotions. Everyone else who worked around him were forced to be more obsequious than ever, showcasing utmost sycophancy in fear of getting panned by the artist. For he had went through a change of heart, thirsting only for revenge upon the group of people that took away his lover. Succour was indeed offered by Thomas, to seek out information regarding your whereabouts. Rafayel agreed and thanked him, providing him all of the money needed to seek you out but deep inside, he knew that finding you would not be a simple matter and his worry haunted him further.

The walk back to your place was awkward, one-sidedly perhaps. Rafayel had not stopped talking, telling you about his journeys of tracking down every single one of the members of the elite group and threatening them to spill their guts about your whereabouts. Given that you left him on your own will, none of the men knew where you had migrated to and that literally got their guts spilled afterwards. He then went on, telling you about how he had handled the truth of you leaving him, that, when it came to a certain point in his life, he was the one that caused you the suffering instead. His words did travelled into your ears, but it was not being processed properly as you were too occupied on thinking about how does one tell their long time lover that they had became a father without their knowing?

The both of you stood at the front of your door now, you praying quietly to yourself, hoping Rafayel would not freak out if he were to meet both of your twins upon stepping into the entrance. You imprinted your thumbprint on the scanner and the door unlocked with a crisp click. Two sets of footsteps were heard clomping towards where you stood and you looked over to Rafayel immediately to analyse his reactions towards your twins. “Mummy— who’s this?” The both of your twins immediately froze, being only a couple of steps away and their eyebrows were strewn together in confusion. The father of the twins stood frozen too, eyes darting in between the two toddlers, noticing the familiar and yet uncanny features of theirs.

When Rafayel got to the leader of the elite group, he was foretold that you were pregnant when you left but he supposed that he was unable to take a grasp of time after you had left. Both of the boys are a bit taller than kids of their age, both rocking the same purple locks as his, pallid and flabby cheeks that Rafayel was certain to own when he was younger back in the days and not to mention, the both of them got your lips. Every lip motion is a total reflection of you. “You were pregnant with them when you left me right?” You took the note that Rafayel does probably know of the existence of you having a child but maybe, he is still in shock, not expecting twins at all. You nodded in response to his question.

Rafayel got onto his knees and smiled, tears started jerking around in his eye sockets, tainting his purplish-pink eyes a glassy tint. “I am your father.” He opened his arms to the twins but your kids cautiously looked over to you, awaiting for the confirmation as they had never seen their father before. Upon noticing your nod and smile, the twins squealed in surprise and hurtled themselves into his arms. Just like that, a family reunion happened.

“You already got them to bed?” Couple of hours later, Rafayel had placed the two reluctant twins of his to bed. Given both of the kids had been longing to have a father figure in their life, a few hours of interaction with Rafayel are definitely not enough for them. However, bed time at 9pm came to be an obstacle for the twins. Yawns started replacing laughs and Rafayel knew it was time to call off play time and switch to story time. You would usually read them to bed and Rafayel thought it is a great idea to put the kids at ease by telling his story, portraying himself to be the main protagonist set out on a journey to save a princess and to rescue her minions as well. The princess being you and yes the minions are the twins.

“Yeah, they could barely listen to my story for five minutes.” Rafayel plopped down next to you on the couch and extended his arm across your back, an invitation for you to lean against his shoulder and you did just that. “I might have went a little hard on them for the tag game.” That explains the heavy stomps and patters of footsteps coming from the room and hallways just now as you were taking a rest. You settled your longing gaze on your fiancé, realising that years had done no harm to him. The same hairstyle that he wears without much styling, the same siren like eyes that only holds you as the apple of his eyes, the same moles that were dotted across his face and the same warm smile he could ever emblazoned onto his features when it comes to being around you. He never changed.

As your insecurity started to settle upon you, particularly towards your own looks. Where time and stress has taken a toll on you, imprinting its effects with fine lines and wrinkles on your face, painting dark circles under your eyes and causing you to constantly wear a fatigued smile. “Do I look different to you even after all of those years Rafayel?” You peered up to him.

“My love.” Rafayel’s warm hand came up to caress your pinched cheeks, you had indeed became much more thinner than he last seen you, before you left him. He knew you must have not suffered any lesser when you had to constantly be on the run while having to bring up both of the kids by yourself as well. But, part of him was grateful that you no longer had to run, for he had eliminated every single member of the damned association. “You still look the same as how you always were.” His eyes wandered, down your cheeks and to your lips and back up again, lust wriggling its way through his gaze. “I missed you dearly my wife. I promise you that no matter what happens ever again, I will not let anyone convince you to leave me anymore. For I, will take full responsibility for the safety of our family.”

Your eyes reflected like glass under the dim lighting, words of affirmation coming from your lover after such a long time seized all of the rumination in your head. You did not notice the streaks of tears till you felt the pads of his thumbs swiped across both sides of your cheeks, his hand now fully cupping your small face. “Now, may I take the responsibility to care for my wife and to make love to you all night to prove my love to you?” The words he spoke were laced heavily with romance and lust that he had held back for years and little did you know, he is going to give you another child and make up for all of the lost times with you and his children.

A request from @cherriejoyponce, fulfilled with my own twist. Hope you like it!

[gwilymz]

Crawling After You (Patrick Zweig x Reader)

includes: mutual pining, friends to lovers, secret relationship

Patrick was your best friend in the whole world since childhood. You both went to tennis camps together and then to boarding school. Your parents are best friends, and they all thought your friendship would fizzle out by the time you hit puberty, but you stayed close.

And both of you would be in your own respective relationships that would inevitably fizzle out when your partners couldn’t get past your closeness. The bona fide twinkle in your eyes when you saw each other, even when it had only been a day or two.

Your friends all have crushes on him; they giggle and twirl their hair at his matches. They say they’re there for you, but you see how they blush when Patrick grunts, when he peels his shirt off and throws his battered racket against the pavement.

“You’ve never thought about fucking him?” Your friend asked you after your match. You were pissed about losing; Patrick was in your peripheral, beaming with his own friends about his big win against an NCAA favorite from UCLA.

“No.” You took a gulp of water, shaking your head. “I haven’t.”

“Do you think he thinks of fucking you?” Another friend butted in. “I mean, how can you resist that?”

You repeated yourself. “No.” Another sip of water, to help you hold your tongue. You weren’t in a good mood. “Patrick does not need help in the dating department, I know he doesn’t think of me that way. We are friends and that’s it.”

Except, since last summer, you had been fucking. A lot. The problem was that you and Patrick hated being told, “I told you so.”

And every single person you had crossed paths with, from middle school teachers, to tennis coaches, to acquaintances in your class were convinced you and Patrick would inevitably end up together. The story was too picturesque, your interests too aligned.

So you kept it a secret. You kept your chin high when girls fawned over Patrick, and he bit the inside of his cheek when boys whistled as you entered the court.

Last summer, Patrick and you got in a huge fight. You had never fought before; your friendship was uncomplicated. Neither of you ever directly competed against the other in tennis, you had almost everything in common. But after a team dinner one night in July, he and you were seething.

“Oh my god, Patrick.” You shoved his chest, annoyed that he barely moved from the force. You were in the parking lot, leaning against his expensive Jeep, a gift from his parents. “All you do is talk about the most shallow, meaningless fucking things.”

It started after he began to complain about your piqued interest in politics. You had always been well-read, but as Patrick said, “You just don’t need to talk about it all the fucking time.”

“What the fuck do I talk about that’s shallow? Tennis? Because last time I checked we both do that.” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t fucking shove me.”

You mocked him. You knew that was his biggest pet peeve. “You’re mad because I care about what’s happening in the world? Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m mad because you sound like a piece of shit politician, and your fucking personality changes as soon as you start talking to a new guy. And you’re becoming so fucking pretentious since you started hanging out with that fucking douchebag Vincent.”

You scoffed. “I find it funny you call me pretentious when you grew up in a fucking castle. Ironic coming from a kid who had escargot and caviar served to him on a platter at age 6.”

“What are you even talking about? You’re just saying shit that doesn’t even make sense because you know I’m right!”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I don’t change my personality. I’m not even talking to anyone right now, and if I were, why does that even concern you?”

“Oh okay.” Patrick nudged you to move you away from the driver’s side door, letting himself in. “Get in, it’s about to rain.”

“No. What were you gonna say?”

He yelled your name. “I don’t want to get drenched. Just fucking get in!”

You crossed your arms. He was right, the wind was picking up, goosebumps peppered your arms all over and your hair blew into your face.

“Fine, then don’t.” He got into the car and started it. The headlights hurt your head and burned saucers into your retinas.

The rain began slow; fat droplets splashed against the curb and dribbled down your cheeks. And then it was faster, and the wind grew stronger, and you stood your ground. Patrick watched you, he watched your gray Stanford shirt get soaked, and your tennis skirt become plastered to your legs. Your hair was flush against your cheeks, eyelids heavy.

“Fucking get in the car.” He wasn’t yelling anymore. His shoulders were slumped, and you know he felt defeated as he got out of the car.

“Why don’t you tell me anything?” You started to cry. You didn’t know where this was coming from; this tantrum.

Patrick was soaked too. “I do tell you things!”

“Not as much.”

“It’s hard. It was easier when we were kids.”

“But what changed?” The engine grew louder, almost crescendoing in your ears.

"We aren't kids anymore. Everyone is always asking about me and you. There's no such thing as our innocent little friendship."

His words broke your heart. And he saw that as your shoulders slumped and your eyes welled with tears. "So what?" You asked. "What are you saying?"

Patrick sighed, pushing his wet hair away from his face. His white t-shirt was see-through, his broad shoulders rippling as the wind tore against his lean body. His voice was soft now. "Let's go back to the hotel. Stay in my room and we can talk."

The ride to the hotel was silent. Usually, Patrick would complain about water all over his leather seats, but he didn't say a word, and you wondered why, out of all the heartbreaks you had been through, why this conversation had chewed you up and spit you out so violently.

You sat on the bed with him and waited for him to speak first.

"Do you need a towel?"

You shook your head.

"What I was saying before," He began. "Why do we act like it's normal that in each of our relationships, the common denominator is that we are way too close?"

"We've never-"

"I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just saying maybe this friendship isn't really serving us anymore, and maybe it's causing more harm than good."

"You know what?" You stood up, grabbing your bag. "I've sat here and been your best fucking friend for twenty years, and now you're just taking the easy way out like you always do." You slung it over your shoulder. "I'll leave. Don't worry, I'll leave."

You wanted him to chase you down. He didn't. He didn't say bye or that he was sorry. One big fight during twenty years of friendship, and it would seemingly be your last.

The tournament was going on for another 3 days. After 2 nights of barely sleeping and going through the motions, of leaving the court whenever a mens' match was on, there was a knock on your door. You let him in; of course you did.

"I wasn't telling you I didn't want to be friends anymore." He whispered. Your back was against the door.

"Okay."

His finger trailed from the dip of your collarbones to your chin. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallowed, loudly, looking up at him inquisitively, waiting for him to finish his thought.

He fucked you with your legs over his shoulders, while your roommate was at lunch with the rest of the team. Patrick muffled your moans by spilling his own into your mouth. Sweat dribbled off his chest and your nails raked down his back as he thrust into you, over and over and over again. Twenty years of reserved angst and repressed feelings manifested in desperate whimpers and the sound of skin on skin echoing off the chipped taupe walls.

No words, at that moment, needed to be said. He was yin and you were yang. Your friendship began and ended where your bodies met. And it would never be the same.

He told you he loved you after he came, and you reciprocated those feelings. Something was so thrilling about the secret, though. Of people gossiping and speculating about the two of you. Of you both feigning disgust at the idea of fucking your best friend, only to ride him in the back of his car until the windows fogged up, and his chest was red and raw from your desperate scratches.

You loved the thrill. One whole year of sneaking around and nobody had a clue.

One year of pretending to get sick at parties, so Patrick would follow you into the bathroom and eat you out on the bathroom sink until your legs shook, raw from his stubble.

One year of Patrick tugging on the collar of his shirt during a match to signal he wanted you waiting in his car for him afterward. If he won, he made love to you slowly, rocking his hips, so his cock went deep, deep inside. When he lost, he spat on you, and left bruises on your ass that stung the next week as you sat on the metal bleachers.

It was hard to fit twenty years of love and pining into that one year without it bubbling over. At graduation, you and your friends threw your caps into the air and Patrick kissed you. Hands on your waist, tongue in your mouth.

The team gasped. They hadn't known your secret for the past year. But they did know it was only a matter of time.

[sevsdollette]

small little Sevika idea i’ve had bouncing around my brain:

nsfw, stripping, lesbian activity ;)

MDNI

You and Sevika both work for Silco, so the two of you hang out at the last drop together all the time. You’ve been together for a while, but some newbies like to flirt with you since they don’t know who you’re with.

There’s a pole and a stage on Saturday nights with the option for some of Babette’s employees to come dance on it for some extra tip money.

Most nights, you just sit with Sevika and play cards. You’ll sip your drink, either enjoying the sweet taste of a cocktail or taking shots with her. On Saturdays, you and her watch from a distance at the women who danced on the pole, but you never went too close

One Saturday, while Sevika’s being a bit too brutish than usual, you start getting ideas in your head about how to piss her off. If she’s going to make you mad, you’ll do it right back.

Now, you’re a bit drunk, but you stagger your way to the stage and take your place on the pole as the last person was getting off. You’re wearing sometime tiny, as your expectation for the night was to taunt Sevika up close. But now you’re going to tease her from across the room.

She thought you’d gotten up to get a new drink or another round of shots, but the commotion of viewers surely grabbed her attention pretty fast. As you spun and ground on the pole, you could feel her nasty glare on you. On every part of you.

Despite how upset you were making her, she wasn’t just staring out of anger. Perhaps that made her even more angry.

As you continued your dance, she got up from her booth, forgetting her cards, and slowly moved to the other side of the room. She stayed to the back of the crowd at first, watching but pretending she wasn’t, but you knew she was there and you kept playing it up.

You were insatiable to the audience and they kept calling you to do more and more. You let anyone slip a dollar in your cleavage or in the waistband of your skirt. Soon enough, Sevika was at the head of the crowd, mere inches from the stage.

She was staring up at you with crossed arms and a heavy brow, pretending to be angry. She flexed the thick muscle of her biceps and tug her thick fingers into her skin like she was tense. Even with that sharp glare, you knew you had gotten to her.

To the disappointment of everyone else in the crowd, you climbed off stage at the end of your song. Sevika helped you down, her hands sliding up your thighs, under your skirt, and over your ass. Just enough so no one could see, but you could feel her intention.

The two of you left quickly after downing one more drink. She had to get you home. She wasn’t speaking, but every moment was spent with her eyes on you and her hands somewhere lower.

As you walked home, she had her arm around your waist with two promising fingers creeping under the top of your skirt. Just to feel your skin.

“When we get home,” she whispered in your ear, “You’re gonna learn what actually defines the name stripper.”

Sat on the edge of the bed, Sevika leaned back on her hands as she made you take off all your clothes in front of her. She bit her lip as you unclamped her bra, nearly lunging to do it herself. She felt herself salivate as your lacy panties slipped down your thighs.

You approached her, standing just close enough to lean over her face and stare into her “angry” eyes. She was going to punish you. You knew that. But you weren’t going to let up that easily. The show had just begun.

sorry no smut unless y’all want it. i’ll make a part two. it’s been a minute for me sorry lesbians. but with season two happening soon 😨😨 i hope the community will come back and i’ll have more motivation.

but if Sevika dies in season two i’m quitting forever

[incogrio]

can you do idol!reader x idol!soobin and a fic of how the two of them catch feelings idk

c.sb - idol!soobin x idol!reader falling in love hcs

pairing: idol!soobin x idol!gn!reader

genre: fluff fluff fluff

synopsis: hcs on how u and soobin started dating :33

warnings: none! except for cat ears but nothing can be done there ☹️

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!! i hope you like it (this is very intimidating) and i hope you don’t mind that i made it hcs!! hope you enjoy and feel free to send in as many requests as u want hehehe

i think you guys would have had to meet at mnet, or something of that sort

he was a rookie, you had debuted a year before him, and he was always a huge fan of yours

he didn’t really know much about you, other than how talented you were.

so you may be asking, how did he catch feelings?

well…

all of the members had their own little introduction moments when you first debuted

you were all nervous and he was a trainee at the time and something about seeing someone he looked up to being nervous brought him so much comfort

and then he watched more and more of your videos. and performances. and interviews.

it may have started as a comfort thing, but then it turned into being jealous whenever your fans would talk about you

or when the members would make fun of him

yeah he has a few posters of you in his room what about it

so a little bit after txt debuted, he was the MC that year with arin, and was so excited to interview u!! until he was told that for the cat & dog promotion he had to wear dog ears. the. whole. day.

“i’m gonna end it,” “you’ll survive” “THEYRE GOING TO SEE ME IN DOG EARS!!”

cut to members laughing hysterically and him pacing back and forth

he was soooo red during the interview that you even went off script, pointing it out which made him laugh and cover his face (he wanted to implode on the spot)

but then… him being flustered made u laugh and…

yeah he got a little hard on stage SO WHAT??

after the interview and after he had calmed down he was walking with his members (all dressed in cat and dog ears) and he saw you and i think he actually died

tried to hide behind beomgyu (stupidly) and was immediately met w a “yahh!” and a shove into the wall

the loud bang of his back hitting the wall made you look over and he literally refused to look at you

you felt sad for him and wanted to make him feel better, so u tried to give him a compliment!

“nice ears!” you smiled, but his flustered mind immediately made him think you were making fun of him. he didn’t respond, just bowing slightly and shuffling away awkwardly

when you told your members, they were absolutely horrified

what do you MEAN you complimented the ONE thing they had been insecure about?? OBVIOUSLY THEY THOUGHT YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF THEM!!

oh. oh god.

the next day, you were absolutely mortified and had to make things right, especially since you were a big fan and had a raging crush on the long legged loser

this day, you had an interview with the mcs as a group, and after you had promoted your new album, you went up to him.

yeah no soobie was pissing his pants

“hello.. i just wanted to say that i didn’t mean what i said yesterday to be mean! i genuinely think it’s cute and i love your group so much!” you beamed at him

he literally reached to his arm and pinched himself

no fucking way dude

he smiled nodded and physically could not do anything else other than bow

you seemed overly professional with him, and that made him sad

“alright well, i have to go. fighting!”

bro just nods like 😦

on the very last day as a mc, he knew he HAD to get your number

he tried to talk to taehyun, since he has borderline gotten every idols number

taehyun laughed and said he didn’t have rizz.

so he decided to just wing it

yeah haha that didn’t go well

he found you after your performance, you were sweaty and WOAH brother he was having thoughts

“hello!” he bows, “you did so good!” you didn’t really respond bc like.. why is he talking to you?? you have a strictly professional relationship

you smile awkwardly and thank him, before falling into DISGUSTING silence (how soobin describes it)

“um… i just wanted to say that i really liked your… your performance? and… i really like… you?”

L RIZZ!! (it worked on you so bad)

he was stuttering and nervous and was basically ASKING you if he liked you

you decided to put him out of his misery

“thank you!” you bow, “i have to go soon, but if you give me your number we can talk more?”

soobin borderline got on his knees and thanked jesus personally

in reality he just nodded super eagerly and was shaking so bad he had to rewrite his name in your contacts four times

now, you’ve been dating for three years

you still make fun of him for that whole event, and he wants to die everytime but it makes you laugh so he doesn’t care all that much

he still hates how he needs to act super professional towards you on camera

he wishes he could kiss you in front of everyone so they’d stop shopping you with people other than him

and so everyone knew you were taken

physically pains him whenever he sees a fan try to flirt with you

or another idol even doing so much as talking and laughing with you

my bf crazy he kill people

you just need to reassure him with kisses to his little bunny lips and he’ll be fit as a fiddle

no guarantees if you’re getting anything done that day tho…

comment, dm or send in an ask to be added to the tag list!

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | Track 1: Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak, high school breakups, divorce, estranged parent/strained parental relationship, depression, high school drama, anxiety, mentions of drinking, mentions of hookups/one night stands, unrequited love, PTSD mentions/explanations of reactions and behaviours due to PTSD, mentions of addiction/drugs, smoking, swearing, best friend fluff, sorry if i miss any!

Here we go!! I’m so excited to share this. this story is very near and dear to my heart as all of these songs are very special to me in one way or another. I will warn this is a bit of a slowburn, and there’s a lot of flashbacks/memories in the chapters to showcase the extent of the relationship between the characters. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🤍 I can’t wait to hear what you guys think

I usually have a listen while reading section, and it’s mostly a suggestion, but it’s imperative that you listen to the song stated in the title at least before reading, as every chapter is directly related to each one. If that’s not your thing, at least give the lyrics a quick read over! Much love 🫶🏻

SIX YEARS LATER

“Holy fuck, you have a lot of stuff.” Your best friend let out a dramatic huff as she dropped an overflowing box to the ground. You looked back at her over your shoulder, letting out a small chuckle as she pushed her long hair away from her forehead. She was tired, that much was obvious, and so were you. Still, despite your aching bodies and worn down minds, the two of you persevered with faith that the end goal would be worth all of the suffering.

“So do you.” You reminded her, folding a t-shirt and setting it neatly atop a pile of clothes you had been focused on. “Don’t hear me complaining about it.”

“Yeah, as if.” She scoffed. You could hear the roll of her eyes in her tone, striking a small smile on your face as she took a step towards you. “All you do is complain.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it pisses you off.” You grinned, grabbing an old pair of jeans from the mound of clothes you pulled from your closet. You looked over the tired material, your lips turning down into a frown as you tossed them into a pile on the ground, knowing there was no sense in keeping them when they looked one wear away from disintegrating.

“I’m kidding, you know that.” She assured you, making it clear that she wasn’t truly as upset as her words seemed. She began moving another box from your bed to the hallway, huffing as she bargained with the weight of the item. She was stacking them outside your door to allow for some more space inside the already tiny room.

Despite the smallness and the outdated decor, it felt nice to be back, sleeping on the same comfortable mattress you’d grown so used to when you lived at home. In truth, the lack of space was mostly credited to your oversized bed; you had begged your mom for a king size, asking for it for every Christmas and birthday from the ages of ten to sixteen until she finally cracked and made the purchase. Turns out, it was a great purchase, because six years and a graduate degree later, you and your best friend were sharing it while you prepared to move into your own apartment a few towns over.

You had traveled to Mel’s hometown almost a month prior, tearing apart her childhood bedroom just the same as you were doing to your own. You packed boxes full of her belongings, spending some quality time with her parents while learning and laughing about the funniest of all her childhood stories. Just like her, her parents were fun, free spirited and more accepting than even you could comprehend. They took you in with open arms, extending their gratitude for loving their daughter so dearly while she was so far away from home.

In truth, the pleasure was all yours, because in your six years at university, you felt as though Mel was the reason that you not only survived, but flourished. The two of you clicked instantly when you met, finding each other during your first week of freshman year in an intro to classic literature class. You bonded over your mutual dislike for your monotone professor who had to make an effort to be so disinterested in her own syllabus, and from there, the rest was history.

“You know, I actually liked Jane Eyre before I took this class.” You muttered under your breath, casting a sideways glance at the girl sitting next to you.

Her dirty blonde hair hung over her face, her eyes focused on a piece of empty paper in an unused notebook as she clutched a black pen in her hand. Every time the professor would switch slides on her PowerPoint, she would jump to write something down, but stop once she realized that once again, the gray haired woman was spewing nothing of significance.

Her skin was sunkissed, like she had spent all summer on the beach (or in a tanning bed—who were you to judge?), and her clothes were cute, but comfortable. Her brown eyes flickered to meet yours, her head turning ever so slightly to give you a glimpse of her face through her thick locks of wavy hair. The warmth within them was familiar, like you had seen them before in someone else you loved so dearly. You swallowed hard, forcing the thought out of your head. You were nervous, yet still excited at the thought of making a new friend, wondering if your words held any value to her, or if she would tell you to shut up.

Since moving to town, you hadn’t found one person you clicked with. You met lots of rich boys who threw their money in your face in hopes of convincing you to sleep with them, and plenty of girls who turned their nose up at your jeans with holes in the knees. They all looked like they stepped out of a magazine, and you felt completely out of place as you tried to break free from your small town habits. You dressed the same as you did in senior year, barely understanding how to be a university student and definitely lacking in the fashion department. You wore makeup to parties, but never anywhere else, mostly because in the years prior, you never felt the need to impress anyone.

Your long term relationship in high school left you more than secure with yourself, happy if you were comfortable and confident without any external aids. Now that he wasn’t by your side, you realized just how dearly he loved you, because without a pristine outward appearance, all of the university-goers seemed to turn their heads as you walked by. You had yet to find anyone to make friends with, and definitely no romantic interests as you tried to mend the hole in your heart that formed when you left your boyfriend behind to start anew. You were lonely, and more importantly, desperate to find someone to talk to.

“UPenn, Ivy League with a 7% acceptance rate and an English program better than any of their competitors, if you survive it.” She cracked a small smile, keeping her voice hushed as she joined in on the joke. “Only place in the world you can pay 20k a year for someone to put you to sleep.” You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to swallow back the laugh stuck in your throat. You had sat beside the unnamed girl for your first three classes of the semester, but never found the courage to speak to her until that moment. She was the first person you had met that radiated a bit of life, something unique and alluring in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. More than that, when you looked at her, you felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. You were incredibly appreciative that she reciprocated any of your efforts at all.

“I think she put herself to sleep on Wednesday.” You confessed, recalling her slumped posture as she sat at her desk, waiting too long to engage in the group discussion after assigning an individual comprehension activity.

“Think she’s on her way there now, actually.” The girl nodded towards the front, suppressing a grin as she noticed the professor's drooping eyelids and extended bout of silence. The two of you shared a silent giggle, shaking shoulders and hurting bellies as you used all of your energy to silence yourselves in fear of getting caught. “I’m Mel, by the way.” She said, introducing herself after she calmed herself down.

“Y/N.” You replied, feeling better than you had in days. It felt nice to laugh, especially with someone who seemed to adorn the same sense of humour as your own. “Mel… is that short for Melanie? Or are you just ‘Mel’, cause that would be cool. Mysterious, even.”

“Neither, actually.” She chuckled, shifting in her seat so she was facing you a little better. “It’s short for ‘Mélange’, which is the stupidest fucking name I’ve ever heard.” She gave you a moment to digest the fact before explaining further, noticing your curious eyes as you held back another laugh. “My parents had me young, during their hippy-dippy era when they smoked too much weed and dressed like they were headed to Woodstock. Apparently it means ‘a mixture of dissimilar elements’, because I was made from different parts of them, or whatever. To me, it sounds like a really weird way of saying they had sex, and I really don’t think it meant that much to them back then. Probably just wanted to be the first to name their kid something, then realized how ridiculous it sounded so they had to come up with a story about it.”

“That’s… cool, though.” You stifled another laugh, finding her expression comedic as she rehashed the same story she used to explain her name every time someone asked.

“Yeah, cool unless it’s your own. Try growing up with that name and trying to survive the American public school system.” She shuddered at the thought, but a smile still lingered on her lips, telling you that she truly didn’t care that much anymore. “What about you? Your name short for anything, or are you just cool like that?”

From there, the title of best friends went without question. You did everything together, ranging from schoolwork to trips to the grocery store, hating the thought of being apart even while doing the most mundane tasks. You had made a pact to live together after graduation, unable to digest the idea of being apart when your university days ended, and you took the promise seriously. Since then, you did everything you could to ensure it happened, including travelling to her home state to pack up her shit so long as she promised to help you with yours. You both decided to go in the direction of teaching with your degrees, so you thought that if you lived together, you even had a shot of getting hired at the same school. Though, she seemed more keen on teaching younger students, and you leaned more towards high school.

There was lots still up in the air, especially without a solid job offer in line, but the two of you were determined to make it work, knowing that if you had each other, you could get through anything. Your mom was enough of a saint to house the two of you while you figured your shit out, and that’s what you were doing; packing, reminiscing, applying, and enjoying your life before things got too hectic again.

Despite it being manual labour, you quite enjoyed the experience of packing up your belongings, even though it did feel a bit melancholic at times. With every item you picked up, you were reminded of memories you’d shoved so far down that they were nearly forgotten. Although not all of them were the best, they were still important, and they showed you how far you had come when sometimes it felt like you made no progress at all. Mel was having a fantastic time for a whole different reason, finding your dramatic retelling of stories greatly comedic, and getting her first pick at the clothes you were planning on donating.

Being back at home with your family was different than it was all those years ago. Your mom, who had finally come to terms with the fact you were an adult, drank wine with you both in the evening as she got to know your best friend beyond what the surplus of FaceTime calls allowed over the years. You went on errands with her when you wanted to get away from packing, and enjoyed the things you once took for granted. Some nights, when she found herself a little too tipsy and reminiscent on the years that passed so quickly, she sat before you, weepy-eyed as she professed how proud she was of you. You felt like you were learning a whole new side of her, rather than the strict but loving one you knew all of that time ago. She was a woman who hurt and cried just as much as you did, who always put her kids first and held herself together when she was falling apart, just for the sake of being the rock in the house. You found yourself growing a whole new respect and a whole different kind of love for her, and you were grateful for the opportunity to see it.

Your younger sister, who was also staying at home for the summer, found herself hanging out in your room more often than not. There was much less arguments over who was spending more time in the bathroom, and no more mean words shared between the two of you that once flew so fast. In the early hours of the night, you finally had the chance to have the heart-to-hearts you missed out on when you were angry at each other over nothing important. She had grown up just as much as you had, and it almost pained you to see a woman standing in the shoes of the little girl you best knew her as.

Being in your hometown was different, and you had spent little time there since your studies began. Mostly for a few days during the holidays, and rarely any other time. When Mel pitched the idea of moving out of dorms and into an apartment, the visits grew much less frequent and when they did happen, it wasn’t usually for very long. You didn’t have many friends left in Frankenmuth, if any at all. The town was strange, a former village in which you had built a life that was now completely abandoned. Shops you used to love closed down for good and replaced with something new, old hideaways being changed into modern corporate hellscapes. Every year, there seemed to be new buildings lining the streets and different faces regularly appearing on sidewalks. It was home, for sure, but nowhere near as comfortable as it used to be. When you blundered around the town, you felt like a stranger visiting for the first time, learning everything all over again.

“Hey,” Mel caught your attention, pulling a cork board from your closet that had pictures tacked to the surface and small paper decorations in between. “Ms. Fishers sixth grade graduation!” She exclaimed, pointing to the banner of cardstock paper tacked to the top, the letters outlined with black sharpie and filled in with coloured marker. You laughed at the sight, realizing you hadn’t seen that board in years as you stepped towards her.

“That’s me!” You exclaimed, pointing to you standing in the mini-graduation gown at the very end of the front row. The class picture was sweet, but it made you wonder where everyone else in the class ended up. After all these years, were they nearing twenty five with no clue where they were headed, just like you? Or were they settled down with families, finding full time jobs and building lives with the people they loved?

The thought was saddening to you, making you realize how far away you were from getting to that point. A relationship was laughable, barely mentioning marriage and kids. In your six years of university, you had your fair share of hookups and flings, but never anything serious. You couldn’t seem to find anyone who you connected with further than physical attraction, and certainly nobody you would be willing to spend your life with. So far, the only compatible relationship for living was the girl standing next to you, and you were certain at some point, she would be ready to move on to something different.

“Look at this,” you stepped past her, grinning as you grabbed a cowboy hat from one of the handmade shelves at the top of your closet. Your dad, when he was still a good dad, made it for you so you could have some extra space. You placed the hat on your head, tilting it downwards over your face as you struck a pose. The dollar store gemstones you hot glued to the top glimmered under the light, making the sight even more ridiculous.

“What is that?” She asked, caught in a fit of laughter as she looked at the poorly decorated hat.

“I got really into spirit days at school.” You shrugged, tossing the hat in the pile of throwaway items.

“Loser.” She muttered, reaching for an old sports jacket suspended on a hanger. “Volleyball?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she read the words embroidered on the back.

“Yeah, tenth grade and never again. Coach was a bitch.” You explained, reaching for it to see if it still fit. As you made a move to slip it over your shoulders, you froze in place, knowing that even if it did fit, you would never wear it again. Instead, you threw it in the pile of clothes you were planning to drop off at the thrift store.

“Oh, cool!” You exclaimed, a shiny trophy catching your eye, hidden in the back corner of the top shelf. You brought it down, flashing it in her direction so she could read the gold panel.

“1st place…. Frankenmuth Middle School Relay?” She asked, unsure of what the award was for.

“Big race we used to do at the end of the year. Think the teachers got sick of lesson planning, so they brought us to the soccer field to do a bunch of activities. I was the fastest in the class that year.” You said, proud of the achievement as you placed it back upon the shelf.

“Is this a diary?” She asked, hauling an old leather bound book from a stack of papers and magazines.

“Yes,” you cackled, snatching it from her hands and flipping it open to a random page. “Let’s see… April 30th, 2010.” You cleared your throat for dramatic effects, beginning to read the entry aloud. “Today, in English class, Liam S. was totally checking me out. He’s definitely not the cutest guy in the class, but he’s funny, and he’s so nice. I hope he asks me to the spring dance, mom got me a new dress and everything!”

“And did Liam S. sweep you off your feet that night?” She asked, pulling her hands to her heart as she let out an airy sigh.

“No, but we did date.” You explained. “For three weeks, until I broke up with him for rating me too low on a hot or not list.”

“What!?” She exploded, her voice shrill as an echoing laugh boomed through the room.

“Yeah, apparently I only had the fourth best ass in the class.” You scoffed, quickly reading a little further into the book. You used to sit in your bedroom for hours at night, pouring your heart out on to the paper just for it to be forgotten in a mess of items in your room. “It’s funny, you know. I used to carry this thing with me everywhere, and I barely even remembered it existed.”

“Yeah, there was lots of stuff that I did the same thing with. Used to be a prized possession, now they just collect dust on a shelf somewhere.” She muttered, pulling out a large box sitting in the back corner. “And for the record, I bet you had the best ass out of anyone at that school.” She clarified, plopping the cardboard down on your mattress.

“No, I definitely didn’t.” You laughed, looking to the door as you heart a small pitter-patter of paws against the linoleum floor. The jingle of the bell around the collar signified your suspicions were correct, and when a fuzzy head peeked around the corner, you greeted him with excitement. “The man himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness!” You exclaimed, watching as the tubby black cat raised his tail and rubbed himself up against the doorframe. He let out a meow in response to your voice, happily trotting over to greet you.

“Don’t call him by his full name unless he does something wrong!” Mel scolded, reaching down to pick him up as he rubbed against her leg. “He won’t take us seriously if we use it all the time.” She plopped him down on the bed, the sound of his purring loud enough to reach both of your ears. He sniffed around the boxes a few times, nudging his face against the corner of the cardboard flaps to investigate the item taking up his place on the mattress.

“I don’t think he ever really takes us seriously, Mel.” You furrowed your brows together, looking from her to the small animal curiously meandering around the bed. “He gets treats and new toys every day, and we kiss him on the head after we scold him because we feel too bad about it.”

“Right, so don’t give away the last bit of power we have left.” She said, fixing the tag on his collar that somehow adorned his entire name in small print.

The cat was spoiled, loved so wholly and deeply by the two of you that sometimes you believed he was in charge. After a particularly rough exam week in your second last year of school, the two of you took a break from studying and took a walk downtown to clear your mind. You stopped at a coffee shop a few blocks away from your apartment building, where you found him, keeping content by playing with empty coffee cups in the nearby alleyway. Being two kindhearted people, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind. Within two weeks, he had made himself at home in your apartment, and not long after that, in your hearts, too. He went with you on every adventure; his harness being on more often than not. He tagged along in every road trip, and neither of you ever thought once about leaving him behind as you moved across the country again.

He was a witty and clever little thing, always sneaking into places he shouldn’t be and never allowing himself to go unnoticed. The minute you stepped in a room, he was squeaking at you to pet him, and never did he allow either of you to sit alone on the couch. He took turns sleeping with the both of you, and was happier than ever now that you shared a bed and he didn’t have to pick.

And yes, his full name was The Man Himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness.

Oftentimes, Ozz sufficed.

The cat actually went unnamed for quite some time after you brought him home. Neither of you seemed keen on the names being suggested, so for a while, he went by ‘Mr. Man.’ Or some odd arangement of classic terms of endearment that got stranger by the day. Then, when the two of you found yourselves a little too high off some weed you bought from an upperclassman, the name made its first appearance. You both took turns rambling ridiculous titles for him, until you took a leap of faith and rattled off the first thing you thought of when Crazy Train played from your Bluetooth speaker. The laughing was so intense it brought the both of you to tears, and from there, it seemed to stick.

Now, you couldn’t think of a better name to call him, even if it was a little ridiculous.

Careful not to disturb him, Mel reached forward into the box, lifting a few items from it. Ozz busied himself by chewing on the cardboard flap, not privy to the woman beside him at all. “What’s all this stuff?” She asked, looking over a few sheets of Monopoly money, a cracked mirror from the dollar store, and a deck of playing cards.

“That must be the stuff I cleared out of my locker in senior year.” You said, turning your head downwards and peeking inside. “Yeah, it definitely is.” You confirmed, pulling out a set of string lights with a battery pack attached. “It’s all junk, you can throw it out.” You dismissed it, ready to move on to something new.

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking between you and the box with great hesitancy. You casted another sideways glance, your lips pursing together as you wondered if it was worth your time.

Something in your heart told you not to jump so fast, to think about it a moment longer before discarding the memories away so easily. You tried not to be a sentimental person, because you found that sentiments only seemed to hurt you rather than bring you comfort. You used to be that type of person, so many moons ago when life was simple and the most you had to worry about was a surplus of homework and no pocket change to spend. Now, you thought it was ridiculous, and you did everything you could to draw a line between memories and objects. Items could not hurt, just the same as they could not be happy. They were objects, inanimate and unable to mean more than what you made them to be.

But there was something about that fucking box, like it was fate for you to rediscover all the things that awaited you inside.

“Let’s go through it.” You said, changing your mind as your skin prickled with curiosity. The emotion that took hold was unfamiliar, confusing and unsettling when you thought about throwing it away. It washed over you so quickly that you couldn’t even think of anything else, and you wondered if you were the very thing psyching yourself up for nothing, or if there was a reason you felt such a pull to the old items inside.

You sat on the side of your bed, your hands landing on the very corners as you gripped at the soft sheets lining the mattress. As you did so, a twang of hurt filled your chest, passing almost as soon as it came. You blinked hard, your eyes wandering the room as you tried to comprehend the sudden change in yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your mind racing as you looked at the old chestnut dresser that stood next to the door, standing prominently against the crimson paint on the walls. The scene was so familiar, just like the melancholic emotion that came along with it. The hurt in your heart seemed right as you sat on the edge of your bed, but you didn’t know why.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, also noticing the shift in your demeanor. Your head snapped towards her, your eyes glossy with the feeling that plagued you, but you nodded your head and tried your hardest to snap yourself out of it.

“Yeah, just a nasty little bit of deja-vu, I think.” You breathed, your eyes wandering back to the empty door frame. Whatever your brain wanted you to remember was pertinent to you, but you couldn’t seem to put it together yet. You felt like you’d been in the exact position before, but you couldn’t place it.

“I get it,” she empathized, taking a seat next to you and placing the box on the floor in front of her. “It’s a lot seeing all of your old stuff, like a lifetime you’ve completely forgotten about.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, the sound airy and forced. “I haven’t thought about high school in so long that it kind of just seems like a different world, now. I kind of forced myself to stop thinking about it, because it hurt too bad, you know? And I guess after a while, I blocked it out completely.” She knew what you meant, because in the entire time you’d known her, you had been unreasonably stingy with stories from your high school days. Every time she mentioned it, you seemed to go to a different place entirely, like you were using all of your energy to ensure the memories wouldn’t resurface. She respected you enough not to ask, but it was impossible to run away from now that you were standing face to face with the very things you tried so hard to stay away from.

“We don’t have to go through this, if you don’t want to.” She assured you, watching your face as your eyes fluttered towards the box.

“I do and I don’t.” You tried your best to explain how you felt, hesitant to reach out and explore the items before you, but gutted at the prospect of throwing it in the trash. “I feel like I’ve grown so much and I’m so different, and I don’t need to see any of this stuff again, but there’s something telling me I have to look through it all, that if I don’t, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.” She bargained with your words before she responded, carefully considering all you had to say.

“Seems like you’re looking for something, but you don’t know what it is.” She offered the idea with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Yeah, maybe.” You muttered, finally harnessing enough courage to reach forward and sort through the mess of items.

Underneath a pile of loose papers, you found your old graduation cap. You held it in your hands, your fingers drifting over the silky, light blue fabric. You let your hand drift downward, running through the red threads of the tassel that dangled from the top. You placed it to the side, finding little comfort in the item at all. Below that lay a tattered AP Biology textbook, the front cover frayed and littered with marks from the students who used it before (and remembered to return it). There was an old pencil case stuffed to the brim with writing utensils and erasers. When you pulled it open, you found a folded up note from a fellow friend that was much too faded to read.

The more you pulled out, the stronger the tugging in your heart felt. Photographs of you and your old friends, bent and torn, floated loosely around the box. You took the time to study every one of them, saddened at how estranged you’d become from them. You didn’t talk to anyone from your hometown, and although you thought cutting contact was for the best, it only seemed to hurt as you recalled the sleepovers and adventures you engaged in with people who didn’t know you any longer. It all hurt.

Why did it hurt so fucking bad?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, boxes packed and the lingering scent of your mother’s favourite lavender candle hanging thick in the air. The chestnut boards of the dresser that once stored your entire wardrobe, the tile underneath your feet, impossibly cold despite the summer heat radiating through the panel windows by your bedside. Reruns of Dr. Phil on the television downstairs, the hum of a song stuck in your head despite no tune playing at all.

You’ve been here, in this exact position, hurting over something with the same fervor as you felt in the moment. It was so far away. Why couldn’t you remember?

For once, six years after leaving the town, you were aching to remember the memories and the love that was contained within the walls of the home, but you couldn’t. You pushed it so far away that the life you once led in Michigan no longer felt like your own. It was hazy, fuzzy around the corners every time you tried to recollect a scene. The voices were warbled, echoing somewhere deep behind your eyes and not quite loud enough to reach your ears.

Why did you try so hard to forget? Why did you force it away so desperately?

Then, the world stopped.

No person beside you, no curious cat nudging your hand. Dr. Phil had gone silent, and the air wasn’t even filled with the sweet notes of vanilla laced in unison with lavender. The creaks and groans of the old house ceased to exist, and the mattress below you disintegrated to nothing. You were stuck, frozen in time, floating amidst a cloud of smoke that wouldn’t clear. Your lungs burned for air, your heart threatening to explode under the weight of emotion. Your mind was repeating the same thing over and over again, incessantly reminding you, forcing you to remember everything you had hidden away in hopes of closure.

Instead of your voice, it was his, saying the same words that were written in silver sharpie on the lid of the tiny, black shoebox.

So let’s make it last.

“Oh, god.” You wheezed out the words, feeling like you were suffocating from the plethora of pain encasing your body. In an instant, six years spent dedicated to forgetting suddenly dissolved into one, terrifying storm of reminiscing.

The box.

The box.

That’s why you couldn’t throw it away.

“What is wrong, Y/N?” Mel asked, urgent as if she’d already asked a hundred times.

Little to your knowledge, she had, but you were too busy listening to the sweet sound of Jake Kiszka’s voice, stored so pristinely in the deepest depths of your mind.

“The shoebox.” You squeaked, raising a shaky finger to point her attention towards the poorly painted over Vans logo.

“So, what? What is it?”

What is it? It was everything.

It was a box full of love, sealed so long ago and hidden away for safekeeping when you couldn’t part from the physical reminders of the boy who forever had your heart. It was years worth of memories, years worth of emotion you hadn’t let yourself feel since you locked it away.

“That should be everything, my love.” Your mom crooned, placing the last movie ticket stub inside the box and sending a sorrowful look your way. Your tear stained cheeks were too much for her to bear, but she loved you enough to stand witness to the biggest heartbreak of your life. She loved you enough to put her own hurt aside, just to ease yours, to alleviate you from being the one to close the book on the chapter that hurt you the most. “What do you want to do with it, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” You drew in a shaky breath, holding in a wail that was begging to escape you.

It had been 110 days since you had broken up with Jake, since you left him with sad eyes and a heart that bled only for you standing in your driveway, the ghost of his last ‘I love you’ still on his lips. It had been 110 days of the most gut wrenching, exhausting, and excruciating pain you had ever felt.

The snow stuck to the ground, the frost nipping at your nose when you stepped outside, and the Christmas tree standing tall in your living room told you that the season had passed and the world was still turning, but you felt stuck in that sticky summer day in August, tears on your cheeks and love on the tip of your tongue as you spent your last night with him. It was the first time you’d been home since then, the first time stepping foot in your bedroom after creating your most haunting memory within it.

You knew you needed to get over him, but you did not know how.

How do you move on from someone who loved you so completely and wholly? How do you stop lamenting about better days that have since passed and will never return? How do you keep going, knowing you would never hold his hand again, feel his touch, or appreciate the sweetness of his kiss? How could you move on when you did not hate him? When his memory still existed in your mind and he was still that perfect person?

The memory of him lived within the walls of your house still, his shampoo still lingering on your pillowcase and his love still in the air. The reminders of your relationship existed in every corner of your bedroom, on the walls, in picture frames, and in the threads of your sheets and blankets. Even now, with the pictures and love notes and dried flowers contained in a single box, you had no idea how to get him out of your head.

“Wait,” you sniffled, watching your mom begin to close the top of the box. You couldn’t stand to do it yourself. You tumbled down the stairs, a mess of tears on your face and a pain in your heart growing larger by the second, begging her to help you gut the last remaining proof of your relationship from the walls. “There’s one more thing.” You confessed, reaching down into your book bag. 

For 110 days, you kept it so close, carrying it with you wherever you went and playing it through the disc drive in your laptop every night to fall asleep. Now, you knew that you would never be able to move on, especially not if you continued to hold on to the memory so tightly.

With an unsteady hand and a heaving chest, you handed her the plastic CD case. Her eyes traveled over the faded writing on the disk itself, and her heart ached for you. Slowly, she placed it underneath the rest of the items, hiding it from sight to make it easier on you.

“I’m gonna keep this, and I’ll put it somewhere safe, lovebug.” She said, finally closing the top to the shoebox and sealing the memories inside forevermore. “Why don’t you go take a nice bath? I’ve got a bottle of wine downstairs with your name on it, but only this time.” She offered, reaching out and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Tomorrow, we’ll go out and do something, all three of us. That sound good?”

Of course she understood; five years ago, she sat in her bedroom, hurting just the same over a man who left her without a second thought. Who left all of you without a second thought. The only true healer was time, and right now, time was not your friend. You could lean on her, ask her for help, hold her hand, because she knew how you felt, and she’d felt that way many times before you even knew what it meant.

“That sounds good.” You breathed, closing your eyes and squeezing out the last of the tears brimming the lids.

“I’ll change your sheets for you, too.” She said, standing with the box clutched tightly in her hand. “It hurts right now, my love, but it won’t feel this way forever. I promise.”

It won’t feel this way forever.

Oh how wrong she was, even if the truth didn’t come in the way she meant it.

It did hurt forever, but it was not constant.

Four years it’s been since his name crossed your mind, four years of sleeping soundly and four years free of regret that plagued you so viciously. You were so tired of hurting that you forced yourself to forget; you erased every memory of him from your brain with the help of alcohol and meaningless hookups. You went home with a new guy every night, promising yourself that with new hands on you, you would forget the feeling of his. You buried yourself in school, studying so intently and for so long that your eyes crossed and you had a constant migraine. You deleted him and his family off every social platform, because despite going no contact that first ever week at university, you still stayed up at night, torturing yourself as you scrolled through Instagram and Facebook. You deleted every picture you ever took of him, knowing that if the temptation was there, you would submit to it. Worst of all, you vowed to never speak his name again, just so you could forget how good it felt rolling off your tongue.

You purged him from your life entirely, and it worked so well that he hadn’t been a passing thought in your mind in years. It was not because you hated him, not because you wanted to forget him. You did it out of necessity, knowing that every time you reminisced on the beautiful memories you made with him, it took a little more of your soul. For nearly two years, Jake Kiszka plagued every thought you ever had. You abstained from relationships and romance as a whole, because you knew nobody would ever be able to replace him. You needed to forget him, or else it would have killed you. You loved Jake so utterly and completely, even two years after you broke up, even after never speaking his name again, that it forced you to drown his memory. Every time you thought of him, you forced yourself to think of something else. Every time his face was pictured, perfect in your mind, you made yourself look at something else.

After so long, it became a habit, and now, it was a way of life.

But, even so, as you stared down at the silver writing, you knew deep in your heart that no matter how much forgetting you did, you never stopped loving.

“—earth to Y/N!” A hand waved in front of your face, breaking your staring contest with the Vans box decorated in silver sharpie. You could remember writing it, the sobs that shook your shoulders and the aching of your heart. The shakiness of the letters retold the story as clear as day.

After six years, you were still hopelessly in love with Jake, and one fear you always had remained true; nobody in the entire world could compare to him, and nobody else ever loved you in the same way he did.

Not that you let them, and not that they tried.

So let’s make it last.

How, after so long of refusing to think of the man, did he still have such a drastic effect on you? How were you still so caught up on someone you fell for when you were fifteen?

Out of all the questions, that one seemed the easiest to answer; you were still pining for him, because every version of you after fifteen loved him more than the last.

“Christ, you’re scaring me.” Mel tried again, her hand landing on your shoulder in a desperate attempt to pull your attention back to her. Your head finally snapped in her direction, your lungs searing from the lack of oxygen as you drew in a long overdue breath. “Are you okay?” She was panicked, her eyes wide and her expression coated with her fear. Never once had she seen you in such a state, and she was clueless as to why you were taken from her so quickly.

“I…” you trailed off, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind. It felt like a million memories were washing over you at once, stuck in an endless stream of thoughts that you forced yourself to ignore for so long. “That box.” You finally huffed out, your eyes shining with the same heartbreak you felt all of those years ago. Time did not change the intensity in which you hurt over losing him, even if you convinced yourself that it did.

“What about that box?” She asked, trying to pry it out of you. It was a rough subject, not only because it was hurting you so badly, but because aside from your mother, you had never spoken a word about Jake to anyone.

She was your best friend, your partner in crime and everything good in the world, but this was a heartache she had not touched, yet. It was one you stored so deep down that not even you touched it anymore, and in order to answer the question, you would have to tell her everything.

“What isn’t in that box?” Your rhetoric was full of refrain, like the words fought a daunting battle to even pass through your mouth. Your heartbeat was so strong that you could feel it surging through your entire body, under your skin and behind your eyes, all the way to the very tips of your toes. Your face was burning, your throat dry and your eyes sad as you finally reached forward. Your fingers grazed over the surface, collecting a layer of dust as they traced the words. “My whole life is in this box, Mel. The very reason my heart beats.” You whispered, picking it up and placing it in your lap.

“I don’t like it when you get poetic.” She let out a nervous laugh, looking between your face and the item in your hands as she awaited further explanation.

“I don’t know if I can explain it without showing you.” You admitted, your finger gently running over the lip of the cardboard where the cover sat flush with the rest.

“If it’s so important, how did you forget about it? And more importantly, why have I never heard of it?” She asked, trying to make sense of it all. You couldn’t blame her for being so confused—in all of the time you’ve known her, this was the only thing you had ever kept from her.

“You know when something hurts so much that it feels impossible to survive? Like if you don’t stop thinking about it, it will be the only thing you ever think about?” You began, your eyes fluttering closed as a sad smile crossed your lips.

“Yeah, I guess.” She replied, her tone softening as she realized the seriousness of the situation.

“This is one of those things. It was the most beautiful part of my whole life, but now that it’s gone, it’s horrible to remember. It took me two years to get over it, and even then, I never really did. I just got better at bottling it up and ignoring it, and eventually, it became a habit. This hurt so bad that I had to forget about it, because if I didn’t, I would have spent the rest of my life stuck in it, rather than making something new for myself.”

“Ooookayy.” She drew the word out for dramatic effect, her humorous tone usually uplifting you in times of crisis, but not even this time could it begin to ease the feeling of hurt in your heart.

With a breath of courage you did not have, you flipped open the lid. You did not look inside straight away, instead finding yourself staring at the empty section of wall between your door and your dresser, remembering the sight that was there so long ago. Jake, teary-eyed with flowers from his backyard and a CD he’d worked so hard to make, clad in a sweater that he wore only because you bought it for him. You wondered what he looked like now, if he’d recognize you if he stood before you again. You smiled gently to yourself as you recollected the softness of his features, the warmth in his dark eyes, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Where was he, now? Was he halfway across the world, living his dream and playing guitar on stage every night? He used to talk about it so often that you thought it would be a shame if he let that passion go to waste. Was Josh alongside him, still annoying him beyond belief and loving him in a way only a twin brother could? Was his hair long, flowing past his shoulders and cascading down his back, just like he told you he wanted it to? Was his smile the same, toothy and goofy enough to make you fall in love at the first glance?

There were so many things you wanted to know, gutted that Jake existed in the world somewhere and you were not a witness to the light he added to it. You were in agony knowing that there wasn’t just one, but so many versions of him you never got to know, just the same as he never got to experience the many different versions of you. You hated yourself for never reaching out, for locking up that part of your heart and throwing it away, but you had to. It was necessary for survival, and you didn’t want to lose yourself to a stranger who might not even be the boy you once loved so desperately.

Then again, a small part of you knew that no matter how strange Jake would be to you now, he would still be just as lovable and just as beautiful.

Your heart ached at the thought of him being grown, now, likely wrapped up in someone else’s arms who could love him more than you could at the time. Back then, you thought that letting him go was the best way to show how much you loved him, but six years later, you understood he was the type of person you never should have let slip through your fingers. You wondered if he ever thought of you, or if he went through the same turmoil that caused you to shut out his memory completely. You swallowed down the lump in your throat when you realized he likely didn’t, because Jake was always much too grand to be caught up on someone as mediocre as you.

Forcing yourself out of the maddening thoughts, your eyes trailed down to the items inside the box. Carefully, you picked out a pile of movie tickets, sifting through them and trying not to get stuck in every memory of every theater date the two of you had.

“In high school, I met a boy who turned my whole world upside down.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as you passed the tickets to Mel. “He was everything anyone could ever want. He was the type of person that made it impossible not to love him.” You explained, feeling the scratch of tears in your throat as you grabbed a ziplock bag full of dried wildflowers and petals from bouquets. “He was a real romantic, always buying flowers and writing love notes. He walked with me to school before he got his license, and drove me as soon as he did. He was my best friend, and unfortunately, probably the best love of my entire life.”

“What was his name, love?” Mel asked, taking the bag of flowers from your hand so you could continue the walk down memory lane.

“Jacob,” the name felt like gold on your tongue, the taste sweet and the warmth otherworldly. “I called him Jake.” You pulled out a torn journal page, folded neatly and begging to be read. Carefully, you opened it up, letting your eyes drift over the familiar scrawl of his messy handwriting. “We dated for three years. Liam S. had nothing on him, and I met Jake not long after the hot or not debacle.” You laughed quietly, your eyes crinkling in the corners as you realized how happy you were that Liam turned out to be an asshole. Because of his childish behavior, the best years of your life happened. “I’ve never been so thankful to have my heart broken by someone, because if I stayed with Liam, I never would have met Jake. I was skipping class one day because I couldn’t stand the thought of being near Liam after that god awful list, and I ran into Jake, skipping because he couldn’t stand the thought of being in History class. Was fate, I guess. We were inseparable after that.”

You took a moment, swallowing back the pain and blinking away tears as you pulled note after note from the box, each one more painful than the last. There were doodles, stick figures of the two of you holding hands, and hearts dancing around your heads. Jake always had a special way of expressing his love, and he did it in every way he could. It was always lighthearted, never too serious but always fully expressing the tellings of his heart. He wrote you love notes because he wasn’t good at saying it aloud, and he drew terrible pictures when words failed him. At the end of the day, he was a teenage boy, but he was so much better than the rest of them.

“We did everything together. So many days spent at the lake, and so many nights spent talking in this bed. We used to sneak out on the roof and look at the stars every night, because there’s a ledge on the attic window that makes it easy to get up there. He listened and never made me feel stupid, and he loved me so much that I never had to question it. He used to drive my sister to her basketball practices when mom was at work, and he’d sit with me the whole time, happy to do it. He was quiet, but everything he said was worth listening to. He was funny, and so kind. The biggest heart I’ve ever seen on anyone.” You felt yourself choke up, the surplus of emotion becoming too much for you to hold back.

“What happened?”

“Life did.” You responded, simple enough as you continued to sort through the box. There were tickets to school sports games, tokens from the local arcade, and all of the guitar picks that fell from his pocket into your bed. There were unopened ring pops, because he’d buy you one at the corner store every time you stopped, forever promising that it would be a real ring someday. Your entire relationship was in the box, staring you in the face with a ferocious grin as you recounted the mistakes you made. “Him and I were always different. He had a dream of being in a band. He hated school and everything that came along with it. He played soccer, he loved to have fun, and he smoked cigarettes. He wouldn’t listen no matter how many times I told him it was bad for him. I loved school, I was good at it, and I wanted to go to the best university I could get into. I didn’t drink all that much, and I stayed in more often than not. For three years, it never phased us, and we loved each other no matter how different we were. It still seemed right.”

“Until it wasn’t?”

“Not even then.” You chuckled, pulling out an old Polaroid picture.

As your eyes landed on the two of you, laying in the long grass in the field at the old park, you felt the knife twist in your stomach. He was smiling, the grin lighting up his whole face as he held you in his arms. You were between his legs, your back against his chest and your arms atop his, wrapped around you. You were in his clothes, your hair falling over your face that was nearly washed out from the flash of the camera. You could remember the feeling like he was behind you now, the rattle of his chest as he laughed and the warmth of his body against yours. The deep amber of his cologne lingered in your nose, and the sweetness of his kiss still remained on your lips.

In that moment, you thanked God that Josh was there to take the picture. Even now, even after all the hurt, the memory was so precious to you and you wished so badly to be there one more time, just for a minute.

“We talked about it for a long time, what would happen when I left for school. I knew I was going far away, and he knew he was going to stay here. Maybe if I went to school closer, the outcome would have been different.” You shrugged, acting nonchalantly about one of the thoughts that often plagued your entire life. “We decided long distance wasn’t right for us. I didn’t want to hold him down, and he didn’t want to hold me back. We loved each other so much that we let each other go, believing it was for the best. I can’t speak for him, but for me, it was far from the best. It was the worst, actually.” You explained, looking at a few other Polaroids in the box. “We broke up the night before I went to school. Or the morning of, I guess.” You corrected yourself, your fingers going in search of the only thing you truly wanted to see.

“And that was it? You never talked to him again.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Never again ‘cept for a few days after I got there.” Your fingertips found the hard plastic case, pulling it out from the very bottom of the box. Origami flowers went flying, the ones you made for him but never had the chance to give him, and a few guitar picks fluttered to the floor. “That night, he gave me this.” You flashed it in her direction. She reached out, taking it from your hands so she could read the words written on the disk. “I remember exactly what he said, and it fucking killed me, Mel.”

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

You recounted the memory aloud, the quiver of sadness in your tone too loud to ignore. “For three months, I listened to this every night to go to sleep. I carried the CD with me everywhere I went, until I came home for Christmas and mom and I decided it was best that I put all of this stuff away. I was torturing myself, loving someone I couldn’t have. That’s why when I met you, I never wanted to leave your side. I was recovering from this, and I had nobody.”

“So he’s the reason you listened to that Pearl Jam song on repeat all of the time?” She asked, thinking back on the state you constantly found yourself in.

“Yeah,” you laughed, nodding as a tear rolled down your cheek. “Black. That was the song.”

“Right, how could I forget?” She chuckled, humming the tune to herself. “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, I know you’ll be a star in somebody else’s…” she sang to herself, trailing off as she realized why the words spoke so loudly to you.

“Sky.” You finished, unable to leave it hanging. “But why can’t it be mine, right?” You forced a smile on your face, trying to joke, but both of you knew it was not funny to you.

“Why did you never tell me about him?” She asked, looking at you with sadness in her own eyes. She was grieving the love with you, like a true best friend would.

“Lots of reasons, I suppose.” You sniffled back another wave of tears, your voice now infiltrated with the sadness that once only ravished your heart. It was taking over again, like it did so long ago when you vowed to shut it out. “Guess I didn’t want to scare you away, and I didn’t really want to bring that memory to school with me. The dorm and the apartment walls, all of the buildings…. That sadness never touched that, you know? He was never there, his memory didn’t live in the place like it does here. I thought if I never talked about it, it would never hurt as bad there as it did here, that night.”

“But it did anyway.”

“It did.” You agreed, clearing your throat slightly. “For a really long time. I spent two years thinking of him, dreaming of him. I wanted him so bad, and it never went away with time like all of the Reddit forums said it would.” You laughed at your own stupidity, shaking your head at all the time you spent reading breakup advice from faceless strangers on the internet. “One day, I had to stop. I was my own worst enemy, listening to all the music we used to listen to together, living in the memories at night when I was alone in bed, picturing him beside me, holding my hand. I deleted him off all my social media, and his family, too. I erased all the pictures, and I drank and partied so much that I couldn’t think about anything, let alone him. I studied so much that I dreamt about Shakespeare, and every time I thought of his name, I shoved it so far to the back of my mind that I couldn’t possibly find it again. I forced myself to forget it all, to pretend it never happened so one day, I could believe it.”

“I told myself new memories would replace the old ones, and after a while they did. Christ, when we came here he wasn’t even a passing thought in my head, but I could feel this lingering sadness in the air, looming over my head all of the time. I didn’t get it until now, when I saw the box, and it all came back at once. I shoved it so far down that I tricked my brain into blocking it out, but when it’s in your face like that… it’s hard to keep it out.” You finished, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “That’s why you lost me for a while, I guess.”

“So you haven’t had any contact with this guy? Like, at all? You don’t know what he looks like, where he lives…?”

“Nothing.” You assured her. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s ignoring a problem so much that it ceases to exist.”

“But it does exist, and it still hurts.” She explained. “You don’t date, you don’t try to meet guys, you hate the idea of love, and this is why, Y/N. If it’s been six years and you still feel that way, maybe you should reach out.” She offered, looking over the CD once again.

“As if,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the idea. “He wouldn’t even remember me, Mel. It’s been so long, I’m sure he’s long moved past us. He’s the type of guy everyone loves, so I’m sure he’s found someone who treats him really well. He deserves that, not the girl from high school who broke his and her own heart.”

“Maybe we should just look at his instagram, just to see what he looks like?” She asked, pulling out her phone.

“No.” You said, reaching out and holding her phone down. “I don’t want to, Mel. I stopped keeping up with him for a reason. All it does is hurt me more.”

“Okay.” She conceded, placing her phone back on the bed. “Since we’re already sad, why don’t we listen to the music? Why don’t you tell me about the songs?”

“Nosy.” You snipped, but shot a playful smile her way.

“Obviously.” She huffed. “My best friend just told me about a boyfriend I’ve never heard of before, who is apparently the greatest love of her life. I want to know everything that I didn’t know I was missing.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, eyeing the messy handwriting on the surface of the disk. “I’d just be reopening old wounds. I don’t know if that’s what I should be doing while I’m trying to start my life.”

“Seems like they’re already open, Y/N.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Just one song?” You watched her face for a moment, your heart racing at the thought of playing that first track. At the same time, an overwhelming sense of calm washed over you at the idea, like an addict finally in reach of a fix. It had been so long since you let yourself enjoy the music that spoke his love for you, and the thought of hearing it again made your heart soar. It had been so long since you felt such an abundance of love like that, and you understood that it couldn’t hurt more than it already was.

“Yeah, okay.” You sighed, carefully placing all the items back in the box. You sat it beside you on the bed, slowly standing to your feet. You grabbed the disk from her hand, navigating through the mess on the floor and plopping down in the computer chair nestled in the corner of your room. You hunched over; searching through the drawers of your desk until you exactly found what you were looking for. “A-ha.” You muttered to yourself, pulling out the old CD player and the speakers you had to go with it. The cords were tangled, wrapping around all of them and knitting together to make the task even more daunting for you. “I haven’t used this in years.” You said, your fingers carefully unraveling the tangled mess of the cords.

“Used it? Y/N, I haven’t even seen one since middle school.” You chuckled, plugging the player into the outlet on the wall beside you.

“I only ever used it to listen to this.” You clarified, wiping the dust from the surface with the bottom of your already dirty t-shirt. You popped the top open, carefully taking the disc from its holder and placing it inside. You shut it, trying to read the faded white print on the black surface to find the play button. Eventually, you hit start, and the air filled with a static silence, the whirring of the machine the only thing filling your ears.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes as you braced yourself for the impact of that first note. Your palms were clammy, your chest tight and your stomach swirling with nausea. Even as horrible as you felt, knowing what was to come, the feeling was comforting, familiar even. You felt it so many times, huddled in that exact chair with your knees pulled to your chest. You felt it in your dorm room, tears clouding your vision as you tried to hide yourself under the covers and disappear from the world. You knew this feeling better than anything else, and you had every scratch and pause on the track memorized so well that you could recite it in your sleep.

Even so, it didn’t seem to stop the wave of grief that washed over you when the first strum of the acoustic guitar filled the air.

You nearly doubled over in your seat, struck with an invisible force that was stronger than anything else. Your bones ached and your body felt heavy, your eyes aching as you squeezed them shut so tightly it made you see stars. The music that filled the room was quiet, but it felt like it was screaming at you, beating you down and berating you for being so foolish.

“Childhood living,

Is easy to do

The things you wanted

I bought them for you.”

Four years old, Barbie doll in hand and chocolate stains visible on your neon green shirt as you stood at the entryway of the kitchen. Your hair was wild, messy from a full day of playing outside. The summer air was sweeter than it had ever been, the color of the grass so prominent in your mind. Dandelion yellow stained your knees from kneeling on the abundant petals in the backyard. The clouds in the sky looked like cotton candy, and you pleaded with your mother to let you stay outside for just a moment longer.

Of course, she picked you up by the arms, scolding you with a smile as she told you that you wouldn’t be able to play if you were hungry. Dinner was waiting for you on the table, your favorite meal to top off the wondrous day of being completely carefree. For dessert, you split an ice cream sundae with your dad, doused in chocolate sauce and rainbow sprinkles. As your mom did the dishes, you watched a cartoon on the couch. When the sound of the water stopped and giggles filled the air, you couldn’t help but investigate, dreading missing out on a moment of fun.

When you peeked into the room, the kitchen table concealing you as you stood at perfect height, you did not see your mom hovering over the sink. Instead, you heard the static hum of the radio, the familiar song playing quietly. Your mother was in the middle of the room, dish towel still in her hand and a blinding smile on her face. Your father stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck. A smile that matched hers rested on his own lips as they swayed slowly, and he was singing her the lyrics as they passed through the speaker.

Although it was out of tune, off time, and nowhere near as good as Mick Jagger had sounded, it was perfect. To you and your mother, it was the best sound in the whole world, because when your dad sang it, it was full of love.

“Graceless lady

You know who I am

You know I can’t let you

Slide through my hands.”

Eight years old with your little sister by your side, the words passed through your fathers lips, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. He was tired, withdrawn, singing the song with refrain in his eyes as he watched the hand your mother was holding. The love has lessened, the tune a habit rather than a gift. Things were different, and you chalked it up to age. One day you were certain your father would sing it again, with the very same love in his eyes he used to have.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

The familiar song played through the closed door of your parents bedroom, but it was not framing a sweet moment. It had been on repeat for a day, now, and your father had left late the night before. Something deep in your soul told you he was not in there, nor was he singing it to her. Sometimes, when the music lulled, you could hear a muffled cry pass through the hollow door, cementing the notion in your head for good.

“I watched you suffer

A dull, aching pain

Now you’ve decided

To show me the same.”

At thirteen, you stood at the door of your parents bedroom, a lump in your throat as you watched your mother sleep away another afternoon. Your sister continued asking when your dad would be home, but the longer you stared at the half-empty room, the more you understood that the answer was something she couldn't quite understand. The longer you watched, the more you understood you’d never hear him sing that song again.

“No sweeping exits

Or offstage lines

Could make me feel bitter

Or treat you unkind.”

“Oh, God. Jake, please turn that off.” You pleaded, the melodic sound filling your stomach with dread. He looked back at you, nestled in his bed and safe under his blankets. He turned around in his desk chair, his head cocked to the side as he abandoned his math homework.

“What, you don’t like The Stones?” There was a careful kindness in his tone, wondering where your sudden discomfort came from but nervous to cross a line by asking.

“No, I do, just not this song.” You clarified, your heart racing in your chest as the hum of Jagger’s voice began to fill your ears. You tried so hard to stay calm, not to retaliate and cover your ears so you did not look like a child throwing a tantrum. Instantly, he reached over and lifted the needle from the spinning vinyl, placing it back on the holder. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t listen to it.” You breathed, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as the song came to an abrupt stop.

“S’okay, sunshine. You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He promised, wheeling over to you as he noticed the discomfort in your eyes. He reached out, brushing your bangs from your eyes in an attempt to comfort you. “Why not?”

“Long story.” You whispered, your head sinking further down into his pillow.

“I always have time to listen to you.” He assured you, his thumb drifting over your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, the sight immediately calming your mind. You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch ever so slightly.

“My dad… he used to sing this to my mom. It was the best song in the whole world to us for so long.” You explained, fighting the distaste begging to leech into your tone. “They used to slow dance to it in the kitchen, and he’d sing it to us too, when we were sad. Then he fucking left, and mom listened to it over and over again, like it would bring him back. Guess it didn’t work out as well as she hoped it would.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I had no idea.” He hummed, his fingernails gently scratching over your scalp in hopes of soothing you.

“S’okay,” your eyes fluttered closed in bliss at the feeling. “Just sucks, ‘cause I used to love the song so much, and now it makes me sick.”

You didn’t understand back then, but now you knew why your mother played it so often. She was hoping it would bring him back, or hoping that it would make her feel close to him again. She was torturing herself in the same way that you tortured yourself with the exact CD you were listening to, then.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

“I have something to show you, sunshine.” Jake's hand in yours felt right, just as it always did. His voice rang through your ears as you walked up the stairs to his bedroom. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but you knew if he had anything to do with it, it would be nothing short of fantastic.

“I know I dreamed you

A sin and a lie

I have my freedom

But I don’t have much time

Faith has been broken

Tears must be cried

Let’s do some living

After we die.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, running like waterfalls down your cheeks as Jake softly strummed at his dads old acoustic. The rasp in his voice paired with the quiver of nervousness made his singing all the more beautiful, and the sentiment behind his actions made your heart swell with joy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on, and you couldn’t believe he loved you so dearly.

His playing slowed to a stop, his anxious eyes flickering up to your face. As he noticed the trails of mascara streaked down your cheeks, his stomach dropped, fearful that he hurt you more than helped. You wanted to speak, to commend him for his gracious gesture, but words were failing you. You had never been so full of love in your life, not for anyone or anything, but he continued to amaze you with every day that passed.

“I’m sorry, beautiful. I never wanted to make you cry.” He stood, propping the guitar against his desk as he stepped towards you. His hands reached out, gently swiping away any lingering sadness on your face.

“No, Jake.” You shook your head, still choked up at the sweetness of the moment. “It was beautiful. So, so beautiful.” A small smile crossed his lips, and he crouched down to eye level, dreading overlooking a single moment of time with you. “Nobody’s ever done anything so nice for me.”

“I just… you said you loved the song, but you couldn’t listen to it anymore because it hurt too bad. I wanted to make the song good again, to make it hurt less.” He whispered, his brown eyes seemingly staring into your soul. “I don’t know if it worked, but I’d do anything for you, sunshine. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”

“You do, Jake. You always do.” You felt tears falling from your eyes, but they were for a whole different reason than they were all of the times you heard the song before. He did exactly as he intended, and the song took on a whole different meaning. The bad hurt less, and the memory of Jake singing to you would be something you would never forget. He was everything, and you were so incredibly lucky to have him.

You reached toward, pausing the track before it could finish. Your chest was aching, your shoulders shaking with your tears as you felt Mel’s hands on your shoulders in support. She slid them downwards, and your hands raised in search of hers. Your head fell back, resting on her stomach as you tried to calm yourself down. It hurt the same every time; no matter how many years stood between the initial heartbreak, the thought of losing Jake had always been the worst one ever.

“Tell me about the song.” She whispered, pulling you out of your own head in hopes you’d share the sorrow with her, just to make it a little easier to digest.

With a shaky breath, you recounted the memories that you’d kept locked up for so long, finally allowing someone to help you carry the weight of them. She listened intently to every word you had to say, hanging on to the stories and keeping them as safe as you had the whole time. There was no one in the world you trusted quite like her, knowing that you could confess anything and she’d still extend a helping hand. You were lucky to have her, grateful to call her your best friend, but you knew that even she could not begin to ease the pain from this.

“I just… I wish things were different for us, you know? Like, I always knew we should have been more, that we shouldn’t have ended like that.” You let out a ragged sigh, finishing your retelling with the sentiment that haunted you for so long. “He tried to stay friends, and he tried so hard, but I had to stop. A few days after I got to school, I had to stop talking to him, because I loved him too much. Friends was torture back then, but now I feel stupid for cutting him off. Now I know that having him around would have been better than this.”

“Y/N, you have to reach out to him.” She urged, combing her fingers through your hair. “If it’s been this long and you still feel that way about him, you can’t let it go.” She tied your hair back in a ponytail, keeping it away from your face until you calmed down. Your cheeks were crimson, burning with heat as the sadness ran its course. Your eyes were swollen, your head aching, and you wished it could be that easy.

“After six years, Mel?” You didn’t mean to sound so condescending, but the tone slipped out without a second thought. “We’re totally different people now. I bet he doesn’t even think about me anymore.”

“You don’t know that, though.” She argued her point, squeezing your shoulders ever so slightly. “He could be sitting in his room, talking to his best friend like this. He might still be hurting, too, and maybe he’s scared to reach out because he thinks you forgot about him.” She let the thought hang in the air for a moment, not pressing any further until you responded. You blinked hard, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. The coolness of your skin felt nice against your face, bringing you back to earth for a moment. When the silence became too much for her, she spoke again. “You never know unless you try, Y/N. You can’t live the rest of your life wondering. Just reach out, say hi and ask how he’s doing. Even if he’s moved on, at least you’ll know for sure. Once that door is closed, you can move on too. Right now, you’ll be stuck thinking about him and wondering ‘what if’ forever.”

You didn’t want to tell her she was right, mostly because you were too afraid he would be moved on, in love with someone else and happier without you. You wanted it for him, because he deserved it, but you wanted to be the one that made him happy. The thought of someone else loving him made you sick, because you doubted that anyone could ever love him as much as you did. Actually, you doubted that anyone could love anyone as much as you loved Jake.

“I doubt he has the same number, anyway. I just have the one he had in high school.” You shook your head, finding yourself too hopeful already. You needed to shut it down before your heart broke even further.

“Try, Y/N.” Mel urged, unable to drop the topic. She wanted it for you, to see you happy and in love. She always wondered why romance never seemed to move you, and now she knew it’s always been because you were waiting for him. Instead of responding, you hit the rewind button on the player and pressed play again, already yearning to live in the memory of him singing it to you again. A sad smile crossed Mel’s lips, but she gave a curt nod, turning around and continuing to pack and move boxes of already sorted items.

You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin atop of them as you listened to the familiar melody. You wondered if maybe his number was the same, and if you reached out, he’d still have your contact saved in his phone. You wanted to know where he ended up, what he was doing and who he was doing it with. You wanted to know him, to hear his voice and have him say your name again. The need was pressing, and it grew harder to ignore the longer the song played.

Could he still feel the same? After this long, did he still think of you from time to time with hurt in his heart and regret in his mind? Was it possible that he was still hung up on you, or were you just an idiot who couldn’t comprehend letting go?

You had so many questions, the same ones that plagued you since the day you left. You didn’t know the answer, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to.

However, Mel was right.

You would never know unless you tried, and for him, you would do anything. As much as it would kill you to hear how happy he was without you, it would still be better than never talking to him at all. You needed to know the man he grew into, even if it was for a fleeting moment in time. You wanted to know if his hair grew out, if he still played guitar, and if his laugh was still just as sweet as it was back then. You wanted to tell him you graduated, that you finally did it after so long spent talking about it.

You couldn’t waste the rest of your life hung up on a man who loved you when you were young. You couldn’t be eighty years old and still thinking of Jake Kiszka when you tried to sleep at night. More than that, you couldn’t open yourself up to love if you were still so in love with him.

“I’m going to grab something to eat.” Mel said, hovering in the doorway of your room. When you didn’t so much as look her way, she turned towards the stairs and walked out of sight.

You needed to reach out. You needed to try, just like she said. Even if the conversation sealed shut the door you always wished to open again, it would give you closure, and you might finally be able to move on. Right now, moving on was laughable, and it was something you never believed you could do.

Mel was right, and so right that it was impossible to ignore her.

Even if his number changed, or if you were blocked, you would finally know for sure. You took a large gulp of breath as you stood to your feet, Wild Horses still playing softly in the background as you stepped towards your bed. You grabbed your phone from the mattress, unlocking the screen and clicking on your contacts. You gulped down the ball of anxiety stuck in your throat as you selected the name you never thought you’d speak again. There was still a red heart beside his name, something you couldn’t bear to change. You opened a new text thread, the empty screen sending a shiver down your spine as you recounted the endless ‘I love you’s’ once held inside the chat.

Your finger hovered over the keypad, your mind blank as you thought of what to say. There were so many things you always wanted to confess to him, that you were sorry and you missed him, or that you were wrong and never should have left. You wanted to be angry that he let you leave, and to be happy for all the love he gave you that carried you through until that very moment. You wanted to say everything and anything, but it wasn’t right. You couldn’t break the radio silence after so long with something so powerful, but you never knew how to keep it simple when it came to Jake. His name alone caught you in a storm of emotion, and the picture of his face in your mind nearly brought you to your knees.

You began to type, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. It wasn’t right. What were you supposed to start with? How could you rekindle conversation with the only man you’d ever loved, after so long of loving him silently?

You started again, letting out a sigh as the words seemed to come out wrong yet again. You felt like an idiot, but you still stood in place, staring at the screen. Somehow, no matter how stupid you felt, putting the phone down felt wrong. You needed to do it, but you just didn’t know how.

You typed and re-typed the message so many times that your eyes crossed and your head began to spin. Your heart was thudding against your chest so intensely that it began to hurt, and you hadn’t even hit send yet.

“Come on, coward. You can do it.” You huffed, furrowing your brows as you hyped yourself up. “Stop overthinking it.”

And you did; when you stopped thinking, it seemed all the more easy.

You - 4:53pm

Hey, Jake. It’s Y/N. I know it’s been a while, and I’m not sure if this is even your number anymore, but I’m back in Michigan again, for good I think. When I’m in Michigan it always reminds me of you. I hope you’re doing okay, and I hope that this isn’t too weird. It’s strange being home, and I guess I was just thinking of you and wanted you to know that after all this time, you’re still on my mind.

With little hope and a lot of courage, you attached a song from Spotify to the text. You hit send, watching the blue line at the top of the screen slowly begin to slide across, signifying it was much too late to change your mind. It was slower than usual, making you believe he truly may have changed his number, or blocked you at the very least. If he did, you couldn’t blame him, because you’d been tempted to do the same.

Before you could spiral too far, the small chirp let you know that the text was delivered, and the words underneath the bubble read as such. Your heart drummed even faster, and you expected a wave of regret to take over, but it never came. Instead, your mind was calm, a strange peacefulness washing over you at the sight of his name in your phone again. Soon after, the song delivered too, the link turning into a shortcut. The album cover showed in a small square, and next to it showed the name of the song and the artist underneath. On the very opposite side, a small little play circle appeared, letting him preview a snippet before he opened the app.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday

Wild horses

couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday.”

You listened to the song playing over your speakers, your cheeks flushed and your lips upturned into a small smile. You wondered if it was too much, or if he would think you were weird for sending him the song, but deep down you believed that even if he did, some semblance of the man you used to love so dearly continued to remain. Even after all this time, the song would still be important to him, and just the same as back then, even after all this time, not even wild horses could drag you away from him.

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf

[deathsbestgirl]

for the least favorite eps: Arcadia, PVB

okay let's go!!!

arcadia.

i watched this one last night and i felt like i had nothing to say. generally speaking, i think a few others have talked about it better than i can lol and they've kind of covered why i love it! and for me, i really have to step back from the general fandom view of it. this is one i have to look at the broader context of season six. if you just watch arcadia, i don't think it hits right at all. (also i think i need to dig into other episodes it reminds me of, but that might be a later separate post. we'll see. usually the connections i find make me love an episode more.)

season six is at one time one of the most msr seasons but also so tense. in the end, diana fowley shows up and it twists scully inside. this woman she knew nothing about, who was there when mulder found the x files & worked on them with him, who's been with him in the way she never has, and she shares mulder's beliefs. right into fight the future, where she may be absent but shes heavily impacting scully. to the point she's ready to walk away, believing mulder doesn't need her & she's only held him back. he gives her this whole speech, telling her how important she is to him, she saved him, made him a whole person. they almost kiss, before everything shatters & she nearly dies. but she's drawn back in. in the beginning, mulder's mad that that she couldn't hand over proof to the fbi, that she won't believe and she clings to what he told her in his hallway.

season six is very tropey, but most of it is also erased, they don't remember the events of dreamland or monday, triangle is a dream/the past. arcadia specifically, is taking a trope fandom usually makes fun or to bring two characters together, and uses it more like mulder & scully are working out some issues.

as kae says, mulder is peak annoying. almost insufferable. but it's these moments that tell us a lot. mulder says at the beginning that 'this isn't an x file.' he's not thrilled with the assignment, he's excited to get back to their work. scully disagrees, tells him 'it's unexplained,' and teases him. but it's tense. i think at other times it would have just been. funny. but he's making marriage jokes, 'not taking the case seriously,' and taking jabs at scully about 'fitting in here' — which is actually misunderstanding what it is that she really wants.

scully was also excited to get back to their work. she was just as bored without the x files, especially with the work they were forced to do. and maybe she did want to 'play house' but i think mulder ruined any fun she was having and her walls went up. so she started being annoying too lol

i love that this episode is tense, a little angsty. but their work partnership is still intact, even if a little strained. they go about their investigation in a fairly typical way, although mulder just tries to piss off the neighbors thinking this is simply human for most of it. i honestly love the way he tries to shake up the neighborhood. it's similar to mr. kline and is ultimately what got him & his wife killed. so he's on the right track (what a surprise). (and even when scully's right that it's an x file, i don't think she's right about anything else lol so classic.)

i always really liked @randomfoggytiger 's mulder analysis & this post lol, and i love the way kae connected the theme of this episode to a common theme running through the show.

i think fandom tends to view this through an msr lens, and not that isn't but it isn't the very in love & together phase of season seven episodes. it's them figuring out how to get there. not understanding what the other thinks or wants, what a relationship between them would like, or what it would mean for their work.

now for some scene specifics that i LOVE.

i love the way mulder reflects the man murdered in the beginning. mr. klein? is so fed up with the ccnrs & the uniformity. he's annoyed by win painting his mailbox. he's excited to get that weird lawn ornament. his wife is very accepting of his bothers, though she doesn't seem to care personally. it's just. it's very reflective of m+s through this episode.

and THIS moment. the way scully puts her hands up to be like 'okay enough, back off.' it's so funny. like. mulder & scully are affectionate. but it's mostly gazing, lower back / arm touches, hand holding...hugging is rare, it's reserved for deeply emotional & vulnerable moments. not just because. but here they have to. and i think that's uncomfortable for them even as they're soaking it up.

then after they're all moved in, as soon as they're alone:

this part says to me they were excited (personally) for this case, at the very beginning they're having a great time. i think scully is even amused by his "honeymoon" tape joke & his (bad) sandwich joke, i love when she throws the gloves at him lol

it's also just funny to me to see how they play these roles. like they just aren't good at it, they're not very subtle. but these people don't know them so it works. the neighbors are overly friendly and overly concerned, and mulder & scully are trying to find out why but they're not the easiest group to crack. despite the intense fear & worry cami clearly feels.

i also think this episode sets mulder up as a house husband, which is soooo fitting. i actually think this is closer to what he talks about in home than he's willing to think about. it's got a small town feel, close knit community, safety. it's just ... extremely suburban with too many rules. and he likes breaking rules atp more than following them. and this time, it actually is his job to break them. this was a perfect case for mulder, with or without the monster angle.

i think i've said this before in other season six talk, but from the moment i saw someone talk about how m+s don't have a blueprint for their relationship, it's the lens i see season six through completely. they start trying to communicate more clearly, not well but they're getting closer. here they're in a very particular limbo (especially after two fathers/one son), where neither of them can deny their feelings (but scully's are "the problem"), and their trust & partnership has been tested. agua mala was about reaffirming their trust & partnership and some off the clock bonding. arcadia is their first on the clock test, which undercover as a married couple is probably also kind of a nightmare for them given their circumstances lol

BUT GENUINELY they were both enjoying it at the beginning, and they have different moments throughout where one is and the other isn't.

one particular thing i love is the way scully puts up boundaries. because i think after a few jokes, and mulder telling her she fits in perfectly...she feels she has to. mulder isn't ready and he doesn't understand, it makes her retreat.

like after mulder sees the monster...scully asks him if he cares to hear what she thinks. he pauses, looking at her, before he tells her "always." they really getting back into step with each other but after hurt & confusion, all the tension...it takes time. they need to hit certain beats to get there and i think this episode does that very well. the moment when mulder thinks scully's been attacked by the creature, that he's about to find her eviscerated. it before that when he's searching the hole they dug, and she comes out speaking quietly & gently, telling him to come in and "call it a night." this is so domestic and partnerly it kinda kills me. he really does always listen. scully is the only person who can pull him back, keep him grounded. and she always give him the space to explore his theories and she investigates them seriously.

the way mulder is terrified when he sees the door and walks into the house. it's every time he's almost lost her flashing before his eyes again, not that long after tithonus. after he could have died in agua mala, before they even patched things up. to me, agua mala, arcadia & alpha build up to milagro, open the door for the unnatural & field trip. it's the perfect set up for biogenesis, the sixth extinction and amor fati. the final hurdle mulder needed. all of these things slowly build scully's confidence back up so that she's ready too. even though she still won't make the first move.

[naturesapphic]

Hey! I'm in love with your oneshots! I would like to know if you can do a Mommy!Rhea Ripley x Little!Fem Reader where they have play date with other Mommys and Littles ( Any other Wrestlers of your choice if possible ) where she has to explain that a new member is joining them today and that reader has to be good and if she is she will get a special treat but the new kid starts to make fun of readers things which Promps reader to tell Rhea and Rhea confronts other parent defending reader ( I'm Just alittle upset still from Monday I still can't believe It 🥺 ) Thanks you so much 😊

Meanies

Mommy!rhea ripley x little!fem!reader

Warnings: age regression, random oc wrestlers lol, arguments

You were having playdates today with your friends at your house and you were so excited. Soon enough all of your friends and their mommies were here but there was two strangers that were talking with your mommy. Rhea came in the living room where everyone was at and had the new guest following behind her. “Attention everyone! We have new guest Here today. We have Alexis and her little. Her name is Sophia so I want everyone to welcome them with open arms.” Rhea said as she introduced them to everyone.

Then Rhea came over to you and brought them to you. “This is my little one y/n. Y/n are you going to be a good girl right? And if you are I’ll give you a special treat okay?” Rhea said and you nodded your head excitedly. “I bes goods mommy I promise!” You told her. You were pretty excited to have more friends but when you looked over to give her a friendly smile, Sophia glared at you which made you confused on why she did that to you. You shrugged it off and continued to play with your friends. A few moments later Sophia came over and started playing with everyone, it seemed normal until she started making fun of your clothes.

“Dey ugly. Why chu wears dems?” She said and your face got red in embarrassment. “Cuz mys mommy bought its for mes.” You explained and she stuck her tongue out at you. You ignored her until it was pretty much the whole time she was here she was making fun of you and your things. The last straw was when she was making fun of how you were coloring because Rhea said you were great at coloring so when Sophia wasn’t looking you ran over to your mommy with tears visible in your eyes. “Mommy! Sophia keeps beings means to mes!” You cry out but not too loud.

Rhea looked at you with shock and worry in her eyes and she picked you up and went upstairs to y’all’s room so the two of you could talk privately. “What is she doing babygirl?” She asked you with a gentle voice as she holds you close to her as y’all sit on the edge of the bed. “She keeps makings funs of mys stuffs an mys Clothes. Den she keeps making faces at mes. Den she says mys coloring bads an den wen I told hers dat chu said it’s was goods she says dat chu lies an don means it…” you say sadly and Rhea felt her heart break at the information. “I’ll go talk to her mommy okay? You can avoid her if you want okay? You don’t have to play with her anymore today.” Rhea explained and you nodded your head in understanding.

The two of you went back down the stairs and Rhea went over to Alexis to tell her about what her little is doing to hers. Alexis couldn’t believe her ears at this information and accused you of lying. Of course Rhea was fuming and she defended you. No one was going to accuse her baby like that and by the end of it both caregivers were pissed and Rhea told Alexis to leave and don’t plan on coming back until they are both nice and kind. Alexis mumbled something and called for Sophia. Soon enough, they walked out the door and you ran up to your mommy and jumped in her arms. “Tank chu mommy. Cans I till has my treat?” You asked her genuinely wanting to know. “Of course you can baby but after the playdate is over okay?” She chuckled and put you down so you could continue to play with your friends. Then luckily for you and Rhea. They never came back.

A/n: hey anon I hope you enjoyed this and omg same I miss Rhea sm too :( I hope the rest of y’all enjoyed it too and remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)

[chaostroberry1]

I'm not sure how to do request but I saw that you're doing RoR, I wonder if you may do Beelzebub with dom M!Reader smut for me?

The scenario is up to you! But I'd like to imagine M!Reader being the strongest one even after Zeus, perhaps as a significant deity/ruler in the pantheon. I think that would somehow works out with Beelzebub curse unable to affect us since we're stronger??

—Thank you, I wish you a nice day and healthy schedule! 💕

There are quite a lot of beelzebub requests today haha😂 sur thing! • I'm going to re-use my idea from back then for (m/n)/reader's lore. Which I used back in my apollo fic.

If you'd like to learn more about (m/n)'s lore, look here.

Beelzebub × Dom!male!reader | smut

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(m/n) one of the very first gods to have ever existed, and had been Zues' guardian from when he was a baby. M/n the one and only male born from a seedling by Gaia, getting swallowed into the earth to rest until the titanomochy was finished, before being awoken to continue life as the god of destruction.

His name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of those who heard it, some even using it as a curse towards others they loathed. Even after zues had taken the throne as ruler, he still knew well not to mess with the god, for he was literally Zues' guardian, and trainer who prepared him for the fight between the titans and his father.

Everyone knew his name, and how incredibly powerful he was. He was horrible, or so they thought. Until a certain person stumbled upon him, wanting to fight.

That person being, Beelzebub.

Beelzebub only wanted to be trained under (m/n) to get stronger. But in the end, he instead got the god to adore him as time passed, he was being treated like some sort of princess. And then slowly used as a fuck toy at the same time. A pretty little thing to look at whenever the mighty ruler was feeling somewhat pissed.

....

The halls were empty, but it echoed with the footsteps, Ones that belonged to the lord of the flies, Beelzebub. Who was on his way to meet you. He had walked by Loki who was giving him a nasty wink, as if something was waiting for him ahead. "Are you looking for lord (m/n)? I didn't know little goth boys were his type~ hehe...is he big down there? I assume he is~" he snickered. He was one of the very few who knew about Beelzebub's personal affairs with the god. Due to there being one incident of Loki walking in on the two going at it.

Beelzebub ignored him, already irritated and embarrassed by the perverted comment. "You keep your mouth shut" he grumbled, continuing to walk. But is then stopped by a tall figure that stared down at him, giving a smirk that sent a chill down his spine. (M/n)..

"L..lord (m/n)..." He was interrupted by the gods thumb caressing his lips, before pulling him in for a kiss, which he accepted, still ignoring Loki's distant snickering. "Best greetings to you, Beelzebub...I'm glad you came. Shall we take it somewhere private?" He let out a soft blush, nodding as you held his hand gently, guiding him to your room.

You placed him on the bed, locking the door before looking down at him. Putting your strong hands on his lips once again,parting the bottom lip from the top, slowly opening his mouth. "Thank you for meeting me here...beloved." you growl lowly, knowing that his curse couldn't affect you in any way, due to you humbling it with your insane strength and overwhelming aura. Forcing it back into Beelzebub.

You entered your tongue into his mouth, making out with him as he took off his clothes, already getting into it, letting out muffled breaths while he drooled. You looked down at his perking tits, pinching and squeezing them, making his huff out a steamy breath in arousal.

You massage it in a good circling motion, before bending him over and then pulling his pants off, revealing his tight puckered hole. You slid your tongue inside, giving him a memorable rimjob to never forget for the rest of the week.

"darling thing...I'll stretch you out for a bit, okay? I'll make you cum real good.."

"ngh...put it in ...don't keep me waiting..."

You chuckled at his response, pulling your huge cock out your pants, making his mouth water. you inserted the tip inside, before half of the length slides in as well, making him cry in pleasure, "huuh...huu...lord (m/n)...lord (m/n)....pound it...pound me with that huge thing....please..."

You pounded his ass fast and ferociously, no mercy on his right virgin whole. Before lifting his butt higher and pounding it rougher, the room full of sticky fuck and echoing cries for more cock. "Lord (m/n)!!! Haa--!! Aahh~~!! Faster please~!!!" He moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his own cock squirted. Your pounding pace too fast to imagine. Leaving him panting and gasping for air.

You cummed into him around 5 times before pulling out, a sticky string of cum bridging between your cock and his hole. You left a huge gape. Then using your fingers to part it open, just to see how much space you filled. You then stuff your thick length back inside and fucked him full of cum once more, using his cum dumpster of a body to your liking. Not sparing a care to who'd hear from outside.

When you finally finished, you had him on his knees, mouth open while you stroked your cock, ahooting out strings of semen onto his pretty face while he took it like the good boy he was. It didn't take long before you guys were back on the bed, getting down at it once more, transferring from his ass to his mouth, not knowing that Loki was still outside, snickering to himself.

"it must really be huge then~"

The sheer force and speed from your fucking had caused Beelzebub's moans to vibrate, pleasing for you to go faster. "Faster...fasterr~~" he whined needily, spreading his legs further apart from each other, just to feel more cock hitting his hole.

•••••••••••••••

[skkfujoshi]

How lovely,how lucky I must have been

Dazai was quiet.That wasn’t something Osamu did.Ever.

Chuuya hated it…Hated how not normal everything was.It was bad enough that Rūyunosuke kept a distance from him since he found out..

Adam giving him that dumb sympathetic look as if he was…

Chuuya shook his head.

Adam was a robot,yes,but he was…He was at the very least a unique individual.

Chuuya could no longer hope to say the same.

But those two little things,he could live with…He’s only known Adam for a couple days,only known Akutagawa for a couple months…But he knew Dazai.Dazai knew him,the boy that Chuuya thought he was.

That was a lie now.His skin felt like an ill fitting T-shirt…A bad,visually unappealing choice that can be easily changed if one so wished.

One that wasn’t him…

“Oi,slug,speed up will ya?” “…You’re probably wondering why I’ve never told you…” “Eh?” “Why I never told you that I wasn’t human.”

A silent beat,followed by a snort.

“Dumb dog,why would you tell me something blatantly untrue?”

Chuuya could only gawk,shocked by Dazai’s lack of observation skills.

“Dazai…You know that I’m a clone,right?You were there when we found out ,weren’t you?” “Yeah.” “So why are you still acting like I’m human?”

Dazai turned to look over his shoulder and tossed him one of his typical ‘Is Chuuya stupid?’glances,before turning back around.

“You have a beating heart,right?” “Right…” “You bleed,don’t you?” “You’d know.” “Piss and shit?”

Chuuya tried to kick Dazai only for the brunette to dodge,with a chuckle.

“Don’t be gross.” “My point is…You do all that,so you’re human.” “Animals do it too.” “Humans are animals,Chuu.Biology 101.” “You know how much I hate it when you call me that,right?” “And that’s the joy of it,chibiko.”

Chuuya decided to ignore that even worse nickname and focused on his feet.

“You don’t get it,bandages…I don’t dream,I don’t have parents…I stole someone’s life and name…” “Stole?Chuuya,if that kid had lived a normal life he wouldn’t have gotten adopted by Mori,wouldn’t have been in the mafia,wouldn’t have-“ “Is there a point to this?!”

Dazai turned to pout at him.

“Maybe if you waited till I finished…”. “Get to the point,you fucking baby.”

Dazai huffed,indignantly,much to Chuuya’s chagrin.

“…Point is,your life is your own,Nakahara.A mix of circumstances,experiences…All that dumb mushy stuff.” “Shame my personality isn’t…Chuuya muttered

Dazai hummed.

“Ya think so?” “More like know so.The bastard told me as much.” “So that code accounts for everything,yeah?”

He turned on his heel towards Chuuya,who only shrugged in response,confused.

“Guess so.”

Steps very measured,Dazai walked over to Chuuya and after a few moments of silence and staring at one another,Dazai yoinked the hair tie off of him.

After a brief moment of Chuuya processing the audacity,he made chase after a laughing Dazai.

“Osamu!Osamu,give it back!” “Never!”

After a couple minutes Chuuya got sick of running,thus he decided to tackle the bastard instead.With much success,Dazai fell to the ground and the redhead retrieved the hair tie.

Even stepped on Dazai’s head just cause he could.

The brunette turned to lay on his back instead of his stomach,loose dirt on his face,laughing still.

“What the fuck got into you?!”Chuuya yelled “That part of the code?”Dazai asked,breathless from laughing 

Chuuya stared at him,part disbelief,part disgust,before he began to walk past the other,tying his hair.

“Fucking psycho…”he muttered “Oh come on Chuuuyaaa…Learn to take a joke”Dazai said,beside him lightning quick 

Will there ever be a way for Dazai to say his name that won’t make Chuuya want to strangle him?He doubts it.

“Maybe I’d find it funny if it wasn’t coming from you.Oh and if the world wasn’t ending” “Done and done.The moment we solve this I’ll have Adam pull the exact same thing.” “You really think we’ll pull this off?” “Duh.We’re Double Black after all.”

Whatever that meant now…

“What’s that suppose to mean,bandages?A suicidal maniac and his pet clone?”

Chuuya knew that’s not what it meant obviously.Might’ve if Dazai were the one to christen their little union.But it was Chuuya’s dad,so it didn’t mean that.They wouldn’t have been double anything if Mori didn’t value them in equal measure.

Still,it was so very easy to be mad at Dazai.It was like breathing.You just did it without thinking.A constant state.

Much harder was to be mad at Mori.Despite everything.

Despite the fact he knew Chuuya was a clone all this time.Never told him.

Chuuya had an explanation for that,almost ready and waiting.Mori wanted to spare him from the emotional pain.The plan was to keep internally repeating that till it starts sounding true.Flawless.

Dazai seemed to have thought so too,not seeming offended at the snipe.

“Do I have to steal your hair tie again?” “Try it and I’m punching your lights out,dipshit.” “Noted,your lowness…Say,Chuu…” “What!?” “I’m a lot colder than you,right?Physically,ya know?” “Like a damn freezer…”. “Right,right,right…And I go through life with seemingly no passion or joy at all,right?”

Passion was lacking yes,but Chuuya would hesitate to claim Dazai went through life with no joy.Joy at other’s expenses but still.

“Right…” “Does that make me not human?” “Huh?” “That.Going day after day without any survival instinct to speak of,barely fulfilling my basic bodily functions,skin cold as ice…Not even a particularly strong heartbeat.”

Dazai stared at him then.With the look at that.Chuuya called it the corpse glare.It was a look that was a mess of contradictions.Both judging nothing in particular and yet also  you specifically.Empty and flat and dark.Lifeless.

Maybe that was meant to provoke Chuuya.To dare him into giving Dazai the response he wants.

Still,despite that,Chuuya scoffed and said:”No.No of course not.” “Then how can somebody like you not be?”“What do you mean someone like me?!”

Dazai looked him up and down,giving Chuuya’s hair a stroke,causing the shorter to attempt going for Dazai’s face with his fist,the brunette backing away before Chuuya could punch him.

He continued walking,Chuuya catching up to him.

“What do you mean?” “…” “What do you mean,Osamu?” “…” “Osamu!” “…What I mean is someone warm.Someone who’s never taken a day of their life for granted,who goes out of their way to stupidly,irresponsibly throw their life away for the people they care about.”

He tossed Chuuya another glance,eyes more alive than earlier,even more so then they usually were much to Chuuya’s shock .

“Someone with a protective instinct so fierce it could burn down the fucking world…Honestly Chuuya,anyone who cares as much as you do is stupid to think they’re not a person.”

Chuuya would’ve never described Dazai’s smiles as warm.Cocky,disingenuous,mocking?Yeah.But even his most entertained expression never truly reached his eyes.He didn’t even know Dazai had dimples to be honest.

This one though…This one was different.His eyes crinkled in the corners,gums and dimples showing from the grin’s sheer size.Chuuya couldn’t help but stare at it.

He supposed it was a lot like a car wreck.Even if you knew that staring was non-constructive you just couldn’t help it.

Then Dazai’s leaned in way,way too close,Chuuya not flinching purely because it wasn’t the first time Dazai invaded his personal space.It was probably the most intense occurrence though ,Dazai’s mouth so close he could tell with certainty that the younger had been estranged from chapstick for a very long time.

The brunette’s eyes turned scrutinizing as he looked at Chuuya’s face,blinking and leaning away,looking him up and down.

“Not to mention some really incredible cardiovascular health with how red your face is right now.Your heart must be beating like half a mile a minute or something.”

Somewhat dazed,Chuuya pressed his hand to his cheek.Burning up.Because of Dazai!?Eww.

He pushed the brunette away and stomped off.

“Aww,is the chibi embarrassed?” “Fuck off!”

-

“Well….This is a really shitty situation,huh?” “No shit,asshat.”Chuuya gritted.

Dazai was tempted to take a look at the damage that Verlaine was currently reeking if only to approximate the cuts their paychecks would be taking in the future.From the corner of his eye he saw a bit of it and came to one conclusion.

He’s not gonna be able to buy the good crab for a long,long while.Crap.

“Well,no expensive wine for you for a while,chibi.” “That’s your priority!?” “Just looking out for you,that’s all.”

Chuuya punched him in the arm.

“We have bigger things to worry about right now,bandages!Focus!” “Right,right,right…”

The two sat there,on the highest point of Yokohama,the cacophony of destruction raging around them,banging loudly,not allowing Dazai even a single clear thought.

“No pressure,but…Hurry it up.Now.Right now.” “Right…”

Well there was always…But that would be risky.It’s not like Chuuya would be in reach for him to just grab onto…And he’s never used corruption for the amount of time that’d be required here…

Dazai turned to Chuuya,thinking back on what he thought of him when they first met.

He didn’t find his opinion that changed to be honest.Chuuya was still unfit to host Ahrahabaki.

He looked too much his age,too boyish,his eyes were too wide to look like someone who could,should handle a god.

And his bones tended to crack loudly when he stretched.Dazai wagered them breaking would be even louder. 

Maybe reverberate in Dazai’s head for the rest of time.

“Dazai?” “We’ll think of something else.” “So you already thought of something?” “Hardly a new idea if I stole it from your father.”

Instantly,Chuuya’s face was lit in realization.He turned to face Dazai fully.

“Corruption…”

Dazai nodded.

His partner blinked a couple times.Then,his gaze hardened, and jaw set,the boy started to get up,only for Dazai to grab him by the wrist and pull him back.

“What the hell are you doing!?”

Chuuya furrowed his brows and smacked Dazai’s hand away.

“What are you doing?!Aside from wasting our time?!Which,need I remind you,we don’t have!” “Trying to not get you killed in a sibling dispute!You could try helping!”

Chuuya leaned back,narrowing his eyes at Dazai:”We don’t have the time.Unless you come up with something better in like a minute…Just let me use it.”Chuuya said,matter of factly

The tone surprised him.Usually Chuuya hesitated,had to ask a couple times if Dazai was sure about going through with it…And even after that he’d take his sweet time taking the gloves off.

Stalling.

 “Why so eager to commit suicide all of a sudden?”

Chuuya leveled him with an unimpressed look as he pulled his remaining glove off with his teeth.He spat it onto the ground and said:”Eagerness has nothing to do with it.”

“…Then what does?”

With an eye roll,Chuuya flicked Dazai’s forehead.

“Ow.”Dazai deadpanned,closing his eyes “Because,Osamu,I know you’ll be there to wake me up.”

Dazai clutched his forehead in feigned pain and opened his eyes,only to see Chuuya giving him the most “No duh” look in all of the universe.

As if Dazai would manage to save him no problem,as if it wasn’t even a question in his brain.

Then,almost infinitesimally Chuuya’s expression softened and warmed,the ginger scooting closer to him and putting his hand on Dazai’s cheek.

“Don’t fuck it up or I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave.”

Dazai didn’t know why that made him feel anything other than apathy or annoyance.Perhaps it was the impact,the shock of skin to skin contact.

Chuuya’s skin was so much warmer without his gloves.Scarred hands stroked just barely at Dazai’s cheek,sweaty and moist.

Gross.It should’ve made Dazai recoil in disgust,but it didn’t.Maybe because Chuuya’s gaze was just that steadying and serious,maybe because his hair was blowing just so…

Chuuya stood up,letting go of the brunette’s face.

His partner climbed onto the railing with minimal and ,quite rudely,unappreciated help from Dazai.He straightened and stood up,turning towards his partner yet again.

Chuuya’s jaw was set,yet his lips didn’t press tightly together.His arms rested by his sides,hands surprisingly not balled into fists.

An expression of,Dazai realized,not nerves,not excitement,but a sort of settled readiness.As if he were about to break out into a sprint.

Chuuya’s eyes were blue.Obvious statement,but something struck Dazai about them now.The warmth of them.No,that was too passive of a verb.

Flame was much more accurate.

Only that could explain the firm expectancy,the intensity of those blue eyes.The certainty there,that Dazai would save him,despite the so,so very low odds.

Then,his partner’s lips curled ever so slightly upward,in a small,dare Dazai say,affectionate smile.

“Haunt you from beyond the grave,remember?”

Chuuya’s russet hair blew in the wind, the boy lit by the now  flickering city lights.

If the world weren’t ending Dazai would’ve called the sight of him downright angelic.

But somehow,even though the world was,in fact,rather imminently,ending…Dazai couldn’t shake the feeling that the adjective fit.

Somewhat in a daze,he took hold of Chuuya’s hand.He squeezed and…Chuuya squeezed back.

“I won’t give you the opportunity.” “Good.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Snapped

A/N: Ok, so, villain! Nanami isn't my cup of tea. For me, he's my comfort character, the one I go to at the end of the day for hugs and forehead kisses. However, as one of my moots said, with all the bullshit happening in my life at the moment regarding my job, Nanami would be so pissed off for me. Is this fic indulgent? Yes. And I don't care. However, it is my first time writing villain! Nanami and I'm not sure how well it's been portrayed. Pairing: Villain! Salaryman! Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader Warnings: MDNI, violence, gore, mentions of murder, death, general corporate shittiness Summary: In the midst of a layoff, your boyfriend Nanami snaps at his own office, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. Word Count: 2.7k

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Nanami’s jaw is tense, mouth set in a grim line as he exits his meeting. Another long day of listening to how the company’s profits didn’t meet the quarterly requirements, about how their stock value was plummeting, and how their finance experts must work harder at pushing their client portfolios into buying rather than selling.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, sighing, wondering how to combat this feeling churning in his stomach. The sense of repulsion, knowing what he did for a living, this constant hook behind his navel, yanking, pulling, warning him that all he was doing was making rich people richer, enabling a gluttonous corporate’s insatiable appetite for more money. 

He checks his schedule, a slight crack of relief filling his being when he sees it’s lunchtime and he exits his office, slumping against the elevator wall, running his hands through his hair. The sun shines brightly outside, indifferent to the gathering gloom inside him as he walks to a restaurant nearby. He gives his order and walks back to work, sandwich in hand when his phone rings.

Your name flashes on the screen and he answers quickly, hoping a quick chat with you would pull him out of this foul mood…only to be hit with your weepy voice, making his eyes widen.

“Ken. I-I.” Your breath hitches and he quickly tries to calm you down. 

“Take a breath darling. Are you ok?” 

Your voice shudders as you continue. “I walked in today. Completely normal. Ready to take on the day. Except when I got to my office, our HR representative was waiting for me near the door. She led me into one of the huge conference rooms, the ones they save for guest visits and symposiums. There were like, at least 100 other people in there with me.” You pause to take a breath, tears leaking from your eyes, and continue.

“We were logged into a Zoom call and told by our CEO that the company’s profits were not high enough to keep up with their budgets. They went on and on about all these different numbers but in the end, none of it mattered. They told us they had no choice but to do a layoff.”

Nanami’s heart tightens in his chest. Trying not to let his feelings seep through, he asks, “And then what happened?”

You sniffle and carry on with your tale. “The HR representative told us to open our work laptops and that we would receive an email officially notifying us of the termination. It came not less than a minute after we all logged in. I have two weeks left. They’ll pay me out for that time whether I go in or not. And after that…” Your voice trails off, tears choking your throat.

Nanami listens patiently, but there’s a quiet, simmering rage underneath. “They let you go?”

“Yes. Me and my whole team.”

“Even though you guys delivered on a project that brought in almost 2.5 million dollars in profit?”

“That’s what I thought too. HR insists it was arbitrary and that they were only retaining teams that they thought would maximize their profits. I guess 2.5 million dollars isn’t considered a profit.” You laugh, the noise filled with bitter irony. “I thought I was more valuable than that. 4 years at this place, Kento, 4 years! I could understand if I wasn’t meeting deadlines or refusing to be a team player-”

“You went in on Sunday for the last 6 months and no one said a word of appreciation to you.” The blond salaryman can’t keep out the bite of irritation in his voice, aimed not at you, but your employer. “When was the last time you slept in on a Sunday? When we were able to get brunch, or simply lie in bed together? They didn’t even compensate you for it.”

 You hear the harsh tone in his voice and sniffle. “I’m sorry Ken I-”

“No.” He cuts you off. “Don’t apologize. I’m not mad at you darling. Please understand that. I just hate that they used you and that didn’t matter to them when they chose to let you go.”

“I have some savings but... Kento, I don’t think I can afford my share of the expenses soon. Rent, utilities.” His heart almost breaks at your next words. “I understand if you don’t think we should continue living together under these circumstances.”

A lump forms in his throat, so painful, so intense, threatening to consume him like a tumor. You chose to follow him outside of the world of sorcery. You chose to study at the same college he did. You chose to get a corporate job despite the talent you had for jujutsu. You did it for him. He thinks back to the days of you sharing a college dorm, broke students picking up small jobs at cafes and delivering groceries. The ratty apartment you’d both found with your first paychecks, the celebration the both of you had in the cramped kitchen when both of you landed your first serious jobs. The move to the nicer neighborhood, with a coded entrance, toasting each other, thinking you’d made it.

Only to be worn down by corporate mundaneness. That chewing feeling of being a cog in a machine, a hamster on a wheel, ever-turning, never-ending, stuck until you die. Money. The big controller of the universe. The ultimate checkmate to everything. Money. Money. Money.

“No.” His voice is gentle. “Don’t even for a second think about moving out. I love you darling. You’ll find something else. I can tide us over till then. We’ll just cut back on some of our other expenses till then. Ok?” The thought of coming home to an empty apartment weighed down on him. Even back in the olden days, the dorm, the ratty studio that you’d both shared, you had always been there. The concept of living alone was long since driven out of him. The idea was unbearable, coming home and not seeing you there. 

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you too. Thank you.”

“No need.” Kento’s gruff voice calms you and you cling to it like a prayer. 

“I have to go. I need to surrender my laptop and badge. I’ll see you at home, ok?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

The line disconnects, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. Companies really didn’t care. It was all bullshit propaganda, the act of ‘being a family’. You were just a collateral statistic. With a groan he forces himself back to his own office, his cubicle, the appeal of the sandwich lost to him now. He forced himself to eat, knowing there was another block of meetings coming up and there was no guarantee about when he could catch a break again. To his displeasure, he sees his manager walking hurriedly in his direction, and averts his gaze, hoping to finish his lunch, but to no avail. 

“Nanami-San!” The man unctuously calls, putting both his hands on Nanami’s shoulders, setting his teeth on edge. A manila envelope is tucked in his armpit as his fingers dig into Nanami’s blazer. He had spent a grueling two hours with this person in an earlier meeting, where he had praised Nanami for being able to sell one of their poorer-performing stocks, raising its portfolio value. The celebratory way it had been said as if Nanami hadn’t conned their clients into buying mediocre stocks which wouldn’t fetch them any benefit in the long run, made the bile rise in his throat. The contempt he holds for this man is tangible, yet he swallows his feelings and pretends to look calm.

“Yes?” he asks politely, trying not to squirm away from his touch.

“Nanani-San, I have news! Very good news for you. Please come with me.” He pulls him away into a private meeting room, Nanami dubiously taking a seat and looking at the man wearily. His manager sits down opposite him with barely contained glee, setting down the manila envelope on the table. 

“They want to promote you Nanami-San!” he bursts out, as though the energy of containing this information was eating at him from the inside. For a second, Nanami’s face goes blank. Then he realizes what he’s just been told.

“A promotion?” he asks again carefully. 

“YES! You’ve been killing it with your clients, raising our stock portfolios, and our profit margin! Hard work deserves to be rewarded!”

Despite his distaste for the man, Nanami blinks and then feels his heart expand. It wouldn’t matter if you were laid off, with the promotion. He could take care of both of you, and you could be peacefully at home while you job-hunted. You wouldn’t need to be in a rush, could maybe take some time to yourself…make up for all those Sundays you went in. A weary smile touches Nanami’s lips as he imagines the life he could provide for you. Could it be, that there was a lining after all?

He glances back at his manager, who appears to have more to say. “Was that all…?”

His manager gives him a nauseatingly saccharine smile, and Nanami feels the temporary prick of joy vanish. 

“Well, the position you’d be up for is more of a leadership position. The higher-ups want to make sure you’re a man capable of navigating difficult situations. Sometimes, things must be done, even when they’re unpleasant.” Nanami’s stomach is roiling, but he swallows and looks at his manager squarely in the face.

“What do you need me to do?” he manages to clip out.

His manager pushes the manila envelope towards him. Feeling like he’s been given a sentence, Nanami opens the envelope, and from it, removes three employee dossiers. He recognized the names as he looked through them, three young men who had started here around the same time he had.

“We’re going to need you to tell these three people that they’re fired.”

His manager’s words fall into Nanami’s ears deafeningly. Swallowing, he looks at the man with narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry but…why?”

“They’re underperforming.”

“Their numbers are consistent.”

“Consistent is not the same as moving up.”

“So you want to fire them because they’re not bringing in more money? Is that all?” Nanami drops the dossiers onto the table, an acrid taste building up in the back of his throat. 

“Well, you would be firing them. Think of it as their three salaries combining to equal your promotion.”

A chill washes over Nanami’s body. “I refuse.”

“Don’t you want the promotion?” his manager cajoles him, like trying to mollify a child with a lollipop.

“How about I get the promotion first, then you ask this of me?”

“Ah…if only the world worked that way. But no. We need them removed first. And since you will be taking over the department they will be leaving…you have to do it.”

Nanami looks at his manager, at this greasy, servile man, who he has hated ever since he started working here. His smug face, as he waited to see what he would do. He thinks back to you, let go for no other reason than “it’s what’s best for the company”. A red haze fills his vision.

“You’re despicable.” Nanami says quietly, his hand curling into a fist, feeling a tremor of cursed energy flowing into his arm, something he hadn’t succumbed to since leaving Jujutsu High. A turquoise aura begins to envelop him. His manager appeared to have not noticed but continued to give him that leery grin. 

“It’s your life versus theirs Nanami-San. I imagine a wise man would do what he’s being asked.”

Nanami stands, his impressive height and build towering over the man. 

“Fuck you.” 

The blond raises his hand, which is glowing with cursed energy now. His manager stares at it, taken aback. With a swift moment, Nanami’s ratio technique hits him, cleaving his body straight down the middle into two halves, grotesquely falling to the floor with a splat, blood spraying everywhere, covering the walls, windows, and the door of the meeting room.

A terrified scream is heard outside. In a daze, Nanami leaves the conference room, indifferent to his coworkers who are now gaping at him and scrambling to get out of his way, several of them shouting in panic at his state, his crisp suit spattered with fresh blood.

He walked into the conference room where he knew the higher-ups were sitting for their next meeting, locking the door as he did so. The men all move away in shock, a few even call his name, but he simply doesn’t care. The meeting room fills with the horrified sounds of men pleading and begging for their lives, and in a spray of red…silence. 

Nanami unfeelingly walks to his car afterward and drives home. Later when you open the door, you gasp and cover your mouth.

“Kento! Are you ok? Did you get into a fight?”

When he simply sits down on your living room sofa, you try again. “Kento what-”

“Grab me the whiskey bottle, would you darling? Don’t bother with a glass.” Dumbstruck, you obey, and retrieve the bottle from your liquor cabinet and hand it to him. He takes a deep swig before setting the bottle down. His sharp eyes, the same color as the alcohol in the bottle, fixate on you.

“We need to leave. Now.”

“Wh-Why- Kento I need an explanation!” You take in his bloody appearance. “What happened?”

“I could get into details. But simply put, I killed my manager and all the higher-ups at my company.” He watches you intently, his sweet, innocent girlfriend, who deserved more than what life had handed you. Your eyes widen.

“Kento- you- you murdered those men in cold blood?” your voice is a hushed whisper, as you look at the man you had spent the last several years with. Not a capricious person at all, so there was nothing that could convince you that Kento snapping like this was a coincidence.

“Darling. There’s no point sugar-coating things. Yes, I killed them. Now the question is, are you coming with me, or staying here?” There’s no malice in his voice. It was a genuine choice he was offering to you. The murders were his cross to bear, and it wasn’t right to involve you if you didn’t want to be.

You cover your face, trying to organize your thoughts, trying to get your breath to even out. Kento reaches out and pulls you closer to him, leaving bloody fingerprints on your clothes. “We don’t have much time my love. If we want to disappear, then we have to do it now.”

You look at him, then, to his disbelief, you ask, “Where would we go?”

He takes a shuddering breath, relieved that you were in this together. “It’s not the police we need to worry about right now. It’s the sorcerers who will undoubtedly put two and two together and realize I’m the culprit. However, I’m hardly the first sorcerer to do a revenge killing against civilians.”

“You’re not?”

“There’s an underground network of sorcerers who went off the grid for similar reasons. It’s seedy, but darling…we’d be free. None of this corporate bullshit, or punching in and out on a clock. We’d take jobs only we wanted to take. Freelance assassins, essentially. We deserve this. Life is full of shit anyway. Might as well pick what we want to do right?”

His words hit you with clarity, and despite all the suddenness and ups and downs in the last ten minutes, your resolve steels. “How long do we have?”

“Not too long. Pack a bag, essentials only. I only have a vague idea of how to contact this network but I’ll figure something out. Now quickly.”

It takes less than 10 minutes for you to pack a suitcase. Your boyfriend slips out of his blood-stained garments and into fresh clothes, hurriedly packing another suitcase alongside you. You glance around the apartment one last time, a wistful look in your eyes as you remember how hard the both of you had worked to get here.

But Nanami was right. It was all bullshit. You hadn’t chosen to stay with him out of blind loyalty, but because deep down, you knew he always had the right reasons. The both of you look at each other, a deep connection of understanding passing between you both, and with a resolute goodbye to the past, walk out of your front door together, unsure of what lay ahead. 

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s2 episode 5 thoughts

boy. where this episode started out and where this episode ended were two VASTLY different spaces. come along while i undergo this journey.

the first thing we see is a dog! a doggy! it's a border collie, and it looks like it could be the same one we see in s1 episode 8- maybe dog actors are in short supply! but border collies are famously very smart and to me the cutest of all dogs, so i was pleased to see a friendly face <3

and then things escalated. aliens arrived to fetch the dog's owner.

thankfully they left the dog alone- perhaps they saw the threatening "ALIENS, STAY AWAY FROM THAT DOG" i had written in my notes- but whatever they are inflicting upon this gentleman seems. unpleasant.

(the aliens are obviously terrifying but they're always shown vaguely wiggling in some cold white light and it does make me laugh. ohhhh here they come. the wigglers)

so in the morning our gentleman- duane- was taken to a correctional facility and he hasn't been taking his meds... and then he hurts his doctor! they always find the kindest looking people to play doctors on this show and then make them suffer

THE NEXT THING WE SEE IS: a pool? the pool scene i wrote about seeing a while ago in my last post! the one where mulder emerges mostly naked from his exercise to face this new guy who looks like he covers his beer stench with a designer cologne!

i rewound to see whose pool it was mulder was swimming in but gained no clues. would be sick if the FBI had an in house pool.

breaking news: this SOAKING WET MAN is called to a HOSTAGE SITUATION!

(i do find it endearing that he swims recreationally <3)

next thing i wrote was "alex is pissing me off" and i don't even remember what he did but i stand by it

so mulder is at the scene, duane has four hostages, and claims to be abducted by aliens. now to mulder it makes perfect sense to ask about his abduction experience, and he's trying to do his homework and follow the rules for hostage negotiation, but duane knows all the tricks because he's former FBI which they DID NOT TELL MULDER!

he walks up to the head of the hostage situation and very angrily asks if she knows about how aliens will take your brains out and fuck with your ovaries and she tries not to laugh at him. mulder tell me what they do to ovaries i'll listen. i'll take notes.

and then alex is trying to be all sickly sweet puppy dog boy and asks if he can do anything to help. so the head of the hostage situation tells him to get her a coffee. HA! POINT AT HIM AND LAUGH.

cutscene to SCULLY CAM!!!! <3 she's gonna sleuth for his medical records

ohhh the power went out and duane started blasting. he shot someone so they're gonna send mulder and another guy in (an excuse for mulder to wear a paramedic uniform.......)

mulder's like nooo i won't tell him i believe in aliens (<- said by a man who is lying)

and off to the races, can you imagine it, he does JUST that, says he believes duane and trades himself for the guy who was shot... he says it happened to his sister OHHHHHHH sister mention

he's got the guy monologuing about his tortures from the aliens and honestly, these aliens are bitches. there is NO reason to do all of this. drilling holes in his teeth??? that's fucked

alex is on the phone with scully who is freaking tf out because duane is lying about who he says he is... when he tells her he traded himself for the injured hostage she says "WHAT!" so loudly and is filled with intense urgency

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! his sister was 8 when they took her

(for some reason i thought she was 10 when it happened, but the larger age gap between them explains a lot in terms of his instinctive level of Protectiveness towards all creatures big and small)

this next part had me GAGGED: SCULLY FLEW IN FROM WASHINGTON!!!! she is AT THE SCENE and she is YELLING at someone who isn't listening to her

alex made a VERY FATAL mistake in telling her to "calm down" while mulder is a HOSTAGE and she RIGHTFULLY told him off (and frankly she could have kept going and i wouldn't have complained) but she's a woman who gets things done so she finds someone who will actually listen to her

she says he has a very unique case of being shot in a specific part of the brain which happened to another guy before and then that guy became a pathological liar so she is basically saying "duane is the nastiest skank bitch i have ever met do NOT trust him"

so back to the scene. duane is saying the government is there while the aliens do all this. which i have no idea how to interpret so i'm just storing it here for later use.

SCULLY CAN HEAR HIM! she's on his secret wire mic and talking to him. duane can hear her a little bit but is going on about "the mountains"... it was at this point, with scully talking in mulder's ear, that everything was so tense i had a brief moment where i remembered that this is actually a tv show i'm watching in my free time and not an actual life or death thing

mulder convinces duane to let the women go and the younger one says she believes him which had to be impactful i'd think

but the snipers are closing in!!! mulder sees the line of fire on him and calls him over to get him out of the way so he won't get shot....

he asks duane if she was lying to distract him and now he's VERY VERY VERY ANGRY and he tries to calm him back down and say hey... you forgot to lock the door.... please go lock the door...

and he goes over to the door and bam. duane's shot.

we see scully and mulder watch as he's loaded into the ambulance and mulder looks deeply conflicted and once again has his sad wet eyes on because he still believes duane was telling the truth. scully tells mulder he did the right thing in getting him to go to the door, because we all know by now that mulder has a complicated set of feelings towards any loss of life.

"whatever you're feeling, you did the right thing" <- augh. scully loves him so much. oh to love anyone how truly and deeply scully loves this man

(shhhh i'm not getting into what kind of love it is. i don't know and whatever your answer for its flavor is, you cannot deny that she loves him. that she tries to find the exact words he wants to hear to soothe that internal Guilt he wears like a heavy jacket.)

later he smiles when the lead hostage negotiator calls him to thank him because he broke all of her rules and thought he was going to get yelled at LMAOOO that lil smile was very sweet

and he goes to see duane but the REAL reason she called him in was to tell him about the metal they extracted from duane's body... the doctors claim that the stuff in his teeth could not have been made from any current technology... alien life confirmed??

((i thought the episode would end here on a little cliffhanger that never gets resolved but boy. i was off))

no, instead of an episode's conclusion, we see mulder bring the metal pieces to scully, who once again has the most beautiful freckles in the world, and she says she'll take it down to be analyzed.

mulder leaves the room without saying a word which i thought to be cold in the moment and now that i'm typing this knowing what happens next i might actually cry.

she goes to the store and she's buying some stuff... we see kodak film in the background... sigh instant cameras i love you and your work... but she buys $11 of groceries and then sneaks the metal chip across the barcode reader and it makes the whole thing break down!!!!

the poor cashier is freaking out because the machine is going wild and she looks at scully like "did you touch it?" and she says no and awkwardly leaves LMAOOOOOOO i was howling because girl idk wtf i would have done in that situtation either

duane wakes up to more aliens and rips all his medical stuff off and runs like he didn't get shot very recently and he's on the prowl for something

scully's back at her place, calling mulder, telling him about how the barcode scanned, and she's really worked up about the whole thing, when she hears a rustle, but it's just a thunderstorm...

but she goes to the window and DUANE IS THERE!!! a look of horror passes over her face, and we hear her through mulder's answering machine, screaming for help while he takes her

(everything happened SO quickly, it transpired in my notes like this: WHAT!!! he's outside her window WHAT THE FUCK TO BE CONTINUED??)

yes. we get a "TO BE CONTINUED" on the outtro scene.

i sat there, baffled for a few moments, trying to process what i just saw.

but then i thought i noticed something else: her place looked different than it did in s1. at least, i thought it did- we didn't see it much, but perhaps she got fed up with folks showing up like eugene tooms did in s1 and bought a nicer space. i thought the old space was cute though, and maybe it really is the same space but from a different angle, but then i thought about how it looked like mulder's space also changed from s1, so maybe they both moved, or maybe i'm just not good at noticing things, but oh yeah, scully's in virigina now since she's at the academy, so she probably DID move, although i thought the drive from DC to virigina was doable, but maybe not?

none of this changes the fact that scully has been TAKEN.

(i won't lie, i knew this was going to happen at some point, because i read the s2 episode descriptions and saw something about her being "returned", which implies being taken in the first place. but still. it was very abrupt. they had thoroughly lulled me into expecting a vague sort of non-answer of an ending and then switched out the formula at just the right time so i never grew suspicious)

to be continued!!! this is soooo evil, especially because i don't have time to watch the next episode tomorrow. so i'm gonna walk around all day tomorrow at important work events thinking about what horrors scully must be enduring and get NO conclusion as to what they might be. duane i have fists and you are not real and i am small but i am unafraid to bludgeon you. stay away from her if you even LOOK at her ohhhh you're gonna learn a lot more than what it feels like when aliens take out ur brain just keep that in mind!

(and man. i'm sitting here typing. thinking about how mulder never said a real goodbye to her the last time they spoke. and i wonder if that's gonna haunt him. and i wonder if when he gets her back, he always always always makes sure to take the time for a goodbye. just on the off chance it might really be the last one. fuck.)

[ciderjacks]

ocd is weird bc I definitely still have it, I just got really good at identifying it and shutting it down. Like I was taking down a gross medical sticker on my wall that for some reason I stuck up there last year, and my brain was like “no don’t do it. You’ll die if you do that” so I put it back on and my brain was like “or…maybe life will get way better if you take if off. And if you leave it life will get worse. Want to make that choice” and I was like really stumped over it, then suddenly I was like ohhhhh ocd you tricky devil… and tore the sticker off. I go thru this exact experience about thrice a week.

[derpinette]

easily the ugliest years in fashion of all time have to be the 2010s (post-recession stagnation, embracing Poser attitudes, the [beginning of the] end of Sovl -> business casual, athleisure...)

[kithj]

fr how are there NO vampire rpgs that are actually good with cc and a fun story and that don't blow up my computer im losing my mind

[simcardiac-arrested]

was the social media site vk because h. hi I roleplayed warrior cats on vk when I was like 9🤝

oh no it was way worse than vk. it was ok (odnoklassniki)👍

[navramanan]

Today was supposed to be a better day than it was :(