#I posted chapter 6 and it has not a lot of love and I worked hard on it

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch6. the in-laws

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 6/x

ᰔ words. 12.6k

a/n. hiii my ihm lovelies!! hope you all had a great holiday season. i wanted to get this chapter out as a christmas gift but i failed and then i wanted to get it out as a new years post but failed and then i got food poisoning yesterday and while i was rotting in bed i ended up finishing the chapter LOL. it seems i can only write when i'm under duress? but anywho. hope you enjoy haha and see you at the bottom!

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“Alright, let’s head out,” you hear Gojo say from the bottom of the staircase, followed by the sound of dress shoes on the hardwood floor, and you glance over to see him clad in a navy suit with a white button up shirt that had one singular button undone. He’s messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way over to you. You catch the scent of his cologne, and it’s alarming how familiar it’s become to you.

Days go by shorter lately, mainly because it’s winter, and so the sun has almost fully set by 6pm. The sky outside is a dark hue of purple, seen past the windows of Gojo’s house, and the warm, dim lighting inside makes you feel strangely nostalgic. Like in a way that feels like home.

You tirelessly tousle with your hair at the mirror hanging above the foyer table that was snug up against the wall at the front entrance. Your hair wasn’t cooperating. You attempted to curl it, for the first time in forever given you can’t remember the last time you had enough time to do your hair, so you were out of practice. It was obvious, given the way some strands were curled outwards from your face, some inwards, some straighter than others, some curlier than others, and you were about to have a full blown mental breakdown before you remember your grounding exercises– 1, 2, 3, 4.

You turn to face Gojo, who you saw in the mirror was standing behind you and watching you with amusement, and you breathe in deep. “How do I look?” you ask, petting down the fabric of your dress as you face him. The thought occurs to you–why do you give so much of a fuck how you look right now? It’s just Gojo’s family. It’s not like they’re actually your in-laws. And from what Gojo’s mother had told you, it was just an intimate little get-together with Sana’s family. It’s really not a big deal. Yet the necessity to impress still consumes you.

Gojo threads his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilts his head to assess your appearance, and you watch his gaze trace the frame of you. “Nice,” he says, “you look nice.”

“That’s it? Just nice?”

“Well, I tried to call you hot earlier, but it got me yelled at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your purse off the foyer table, “okay, whatever, I’ll take it.” And then you head towards the front door. You hear the jingle of car keys from behind you as they’re shoved into a pocket.

The outside air is chilly in a way that’s almost sobering. Gojo opens the door for you to get inside his car and the warmth of your peach cobbler in your lap comforts some of the nerves you felt. By the time Gojo clicks his seatbelt into place in the driver seat, you realize you’ve never been in his car before, or driven anywhere by him before.

The interior smells of pine and something more familiar too, with sleek leather seats that are so comfortable they make you feel like you’re floating. You know it’s a Benz, you’re just not sure what year or model, and you’d usually ask most people out of a friendly curiosity, but for some reason your pride always got the best of you when it came to him.

“I seriously can’t wait to eat that thing you made,” Gojo comments after he’s backed out of the driveway, “it looks really nice.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you ask him, glancing over at him, and you try not to stare at the strong one-handed grip he has on the steering wheel as he corrects it. 

“Oh yeah,” he answers, “big time.”

“You don’t seem like it,” you mindlessly say, turning your head to glance out into the dim street, passing by houses that idly sit in this neighborhood.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“You seem to maintain a steady weight,” you politely comment.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just science. Hard to maintain a build if you eat a lot of sugar.”

He turns onto the mainroad, and you keep your gaze plastered to the outside. “I seem to manage.”

“It’s because you're tall. Tall people get to eat whatever they want.”

You see him nod his head once in your periphery, and you take it as some form of dismissal. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take terribly long to get to Gojo’s parents’ house, just a thirty-five minute drive without traffic. He kept surprisingly silent throughout most of it, and the few moments you did glance at his face, you could even say he looked like he was deep in thought. With a creased brow, a grip on the steering wheel that sometimes faltered, sometimes strengthened, but rarely fully eased. It was all so different from his usual impulse to talk. You know that you often wish for Gojo to shut the fuck up sometimes, but the silence seemed unsettling today.

His parents’ house is large, maybe twice the size of the homes in your neighborhood, but it’s tucked away in a slightly remote area, where the next closest house is about a quarter of a mile down the road. The driveway is long and runs downhill, so you stumble a little on the high heel of your shoe when you step down onto the pebbled pavement, but Gojo holds your elbow so you don’t fall onto your face. And also so you don’t drop the peach cobbler he so desperately wants to try. You’re not sure which of the two was the bigger priority for him.

As you two walk up the driveway towards the front entrance, you hear him sigh behind you. “Just so you know, my mom doesn’t really have any sense of boundaries.”

“Ah,” you comment, “nice to know where you get it from.”

He gives you an irritated look, seen in the corner of your eye, and it’s hard to fight the small amused smile that makes its way onto your face.

He sighs again as you two make it to the top of the steps. “Seriously, though. Chances of you wanting to leave me after this dinner are high.”

“Why? You’ve got a hot older brother I don’t know about or something?”

“I am the hot older brother,” he tells you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and then face him fully. “You’re not the first guy that’s warned me about his parents, okay? I’ll handle my own. What good is life if your in-laws–er, fake in-laws–aren’t at least a little strange?”

He lifts his finger to the doorbell, and just before pressing it, he says, “alright, then.”

It only takes twelve seconds for the door to swing open, the aroma of fresh herbs and something more sultry like vetiver arouse your senses, along with a warmth beckoning you from the inside of the home. 

Gojo’s mother stands at the doorway, surrounded by a halo of warm lighting, and her face instantly morphs into one of delightful glee.

“Oh! My dear, you’ve made it!” she exclaims happily, and just when you think she’s about to pull Gojo in for a hug, she pulls you in for one first instead, which startles you. “How lovely!”

“Oh—” you stutter, stumbling slightly as your nose becomes buried in the fluff of her silk pressed hair, but the delicate fragrance of lilac is somehow comforting.

She pulls you away to hold you by your shoulders. “You poor thing, you’re shivering! Come inside.” She hastily ushers you inside and you can feel the heat from Gojo’s body as he follows closely on your tail.

When his mother closes the door behind you, you find yourself surrounded by the kind of warmth only a house could provide. 

You take a small look around the foyer, noticing that it’s large with tones of deep wood and a bright white and golden chandelier that hangs daintily above in the cavity of the high ceilings. Leather, wood, velvet, silk, these are the textures that you see as you look around. It’s an old-fashioned taste, with a polished grand piano off to the right in the hall and display cases of vintage dolls and porcelain plates. So very different from modern, but it’s comforting. Like a wave of nostalgia, but from something you’ve never experienced before.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Gojo asks with curiosity lilting her voice as she walks up to you and points at the casserole dish you were holding.

“Oh, it’s peach cobbler,” you say, holding it up slightly with a small smile adorning your face, “for dessert.”

“How sweet! You’re an angel,” she coos, then twists her torso towards the kitchen, “honey! Come here, will you?”

Shuffling down the hallway from the heart of the house is, who you presume to be, Mr. Gojo. He’s tall, with his shoulders slightly curved forward as he approaches you all, and you note that he looks more aged than his missus.

“Ah, this must be my new daughter-in-law,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly from years of use. You smell the faintest hint of smoke from his clothing.

You glance at Gojo, who is watching you interact with his parents, an unreadable expression on his face as his hands remain shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

Mr. Gojo takes the peach cobbler from you and gives you a curt smile before taking it back towards the kitchen.

“Darling, I must say, you have a lovely figure—” Gojo’s mother begins to say, reaching her hand out to hover it over the curve of your waist, but just at that moment, Gojo comes up to stand in between the two of you.

“Alright, what time’s dinner?” he asks.

Mrs. Gojo glances up at him, her face immediately twisting into a frown. “Nevermind that. I want to take y/n with me back to the kitchen to help braise the chicken,” she says, grabbing a hold of your wrist and tugging you towards her.

“Oh—” you stumble slightly.

“Nope,” you hear Gojo say from beside you, and suddenly there’s a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back to his side, “she stays with me for the night.” You’d remember to blush at the feeling of being pressed flush up against him, but the shock overshadowed.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Gojo exclaims, rather loudly, and she lets out a hmph noise before placing her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m not gonna let you indoctrinate her into whatever multi-level marketing scheme you’ve fallen victim to this month,” he says, his hold on your waist tightening.

“How petulant!” she says, trying to manage a stern look but Gojo doesn’t seem fazed by it, “quit acting like I’m going to corrupt her! I’m not some witch.”

“Your track record would prove otherwise,” he comments.

“Oh please, the only other time was when you brought—”

She suddenly stops speaking, her eyes going wide, and she glances at you. You cluelessly tilt your head at her.

Ah. The other woman. This mysterious ex-wife. Would you be the other woman in this case? Seeing as to how his entire family seems to walk on eggshells about the subject around you. And they all seem to think that any mention of her would devastate you, when really, you and Gojo aren’t even actually lovers.

But there’s a small part of you,

A teeny tiny part,

Revealed from the way your heart sank at the realization of who his mother was referring to,

That actually does feel some type of way about it.

You want to know who this woman was to him. Does he still think of her? Does he still love her? What happened between them? Was she the one that got away? And how does he feel about the fact that he’s now here with you?

You shake your head vigorously to get those thoughts out of your head.

It was like method acting. You stepped into the role of wife this evening, and now you feel the way that they expect you to feel at the mention of your husband’s ex-lover.

That must be the reason, right?

You slowly push yourself out of Gojo’s hold, and you try not to become hyper aware of his eyes on you as you smooth out the fabric of your dress, then you glance at his mother.

“I’d love to help you braise the chicken,” you say.

There’s a brief silence as you find your voice in this house, and then Mrs. Gojo flashes you a grin.

“Come with me, honey,” she says before wrapping a delicate hand around your wrist and pulling you towards the heart of the house.

There are pictures hung up on the walls as you brush past every hallway, along with peeling wallpaper that is peppered with florals and striped prints, sanded off from years of shoulders brushing against their surfaces in a way that creates an old, dated charm. You learn quickly that Gojo has always been pretty tall, judging from the photo of him standing with, whom you assume are his middle school friends, out on a boat, holding a bass the size of a small child. 

There’s photos of the four of them together, like one professionally taken photo where Gojo and Sana are knelt in front of their parents, and your gaze fixates on the strong grip Mr. Gojo has on his son’s shoulder, digging deep in the bone, creasing the fabric, almost desperately. Gojo looks young in the photo, maybe a recent high school graduate, and his smile is bright but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And, God, the trophies. The trophies that adorned the surfaces of aged cedar wood dressers, seemingly random in the order they are sprawled across the display yet you know there was intention behind it too. Ballet, soccer, tennis, spelling bee, FRC, even dragon boat racing. 

“Feel free to take any of those home,” Mrs. Gojo says with a teasing tone, “you eventually get tired of staring at them.”

You wouldn’t know. Your mother never had much extra cash hanging around to take you to tennis lessons, or ballet lessons, or SAT prep, or whatever. You were lucky enough that you got into college with the cards you were dealt, but you sometimes wonder what your potential could’ve been if you had parents like Gojo did. Maybe the house you live in would be your own, and not something that your mother has spent the past forty years of her life trying to pay off. Maybe you’d have a freshly renovated kitchen and a pretty boat out on the street. But throwing a pity party for yourself right now wasn’t exactly going to get you through the evening.

Mrs. Gojo finally leads you into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh herbs overwhelms your senses. 

“Smells wonderful,” you comment.

“I know,” she cheekily comments, “will you turn the meat please?”

You grab a pair of tongs and attempt to sear the cuts that were sizzling on the stove.

“Sooooo,” she coos, wasting no time to playfully bump her hip to yours, “how is married life?”

“Nice,” you respond, your cheeks warming slightly, “it’s nice.”

“It won’t always be that way, you know,” she muses with some underlying sense of sincerity that isn’t lost on you.

When you remain quiet, concentrating on the searing sizzling noises coming from the pan, she decides to keep speaking.

“Eventually, you two will settle in a little too much…start to care less about your bodies…and then, oh gosh, when kids come into the picture, forget about having any time for yourselves,” she continues, “some days you’ll resent him, others you’ll feel like it’s the first time all over again.” She sighs. “Marriage is a funny thing—”

“Mrs. Gojo,” you interrupt her, turning to face her, “I—…I really appreciate you, I do, but, um, I’ve already learned a lot already about marriage from my own parents. Things are fine between Satoru and me.” You look into her widened eyes. “And…if something does happen down the line, and we choose not to be together anymore, then that’s okay too.”

After all, you had to prepare her.

“But that’s the thing!” she chirps, “your generation is too—…too impatient. Unwilling to work anything out! A marriage is supposed to be hard, but also it’s something you aren’t supposed to give up on so easily.”

It’s your turn to meet her with widened eyes in response to her preaching, and her posture immediately deflates before she holds you gently by your arm.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know it’s too early to be saying all these things to you,” she says, managing a small smile, “I always forget that I’m too old to be doting on my children like this anymore.”

Your expression softens and you wrap your palm over her bony knuckles, feeling the thinness of the skin that stretches over them. In a brief glimpse, you see your own mother in Mrs. Gojo’s eyes, something familiar, a universal expression of the love a parent has for their child.

“Well…” you say after clearing your throat, “for what it’s worth, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Gojo.” You try to manage a small smile. “I’m—…I’m really happy with your son.”

It was hard to lie to someone like this, especially from the way there’s relief that floods her irises, a genuine feeling that is so hard to come by in these days of false niceties. You often wonder how far a single white lie can stretch before it shatters against its own resistance.

“That’s a relief,” she says, managing her own prim smile, “I’m so glad.”

The two of you finish up in the kitchen, and when you circle around back into the hall, you see Sana standing in the warmly lit family room with Gojo and their dad.

Sana catches your eye, and you purse your lips together hesitantly before walking up to her.

“Hey,” you say softly and she returns the small smile you give her.

“Hi,” she says back to you.

“Um, where’s Juno?” you ask, looking around.

“Oh, she has a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight,” Sana says, “Jun’s dropping her off, and then he’ll come by here later.”

“Ah, I see,” you comment, itching at your elbow from the awkwardness.

“Well,” Mr. Gojo says, gesturing towards the dining room, “let’s eat, shall we?”

The three of you nod at him.

It’s fascinating to watch how the family falls naturally into their chairs, an assigned seating pattern that stays consistent among all dining halls and rooms and tables in the world, one that every family has. Mr. Gojo sits at the head of the table, his wife to his left, his son to his right. Sana sits quaintly to her mother’s left, and you sit across from her to Gojo’s left. The one empty seat is left for the presence of Jun.

“Food looks wonderful, darling,” Mr. Gojo says before leaning over to place a kiss on her bashful cheek.

Your heart does something weird at the sight. A simultaneous twinge paired with a warmer feeling that follows. You hardly witnessed any affection within your household growing up, not between your parents at least, probably because you were young when they got divorced and so the turmoils and tribulations started long before you had any higher order of cognitive discernment beyond the childish interest in Disney princesses and The Backyardigans. For you, the only memories that last of your parents’ marriage are those that feel like nothing more than the frigidity of a business arrangement. Ironically similar to the one you were currently in with Gojo. Except at least yours hadn’t been initially built on a foundation of love and a promise to be there for one another until death did you two apart.

Death was knocking on your mother’s doorstep now. But your father was nowhere to be found. So much for a vow.

Mr. Gojo pours his son a glass of whiskey, single malt as read on the label. Mrs. Gojo pours you and Sana a glass of red wine, and you try to hide the grimace, because you would’ve much rather had the whiskey.

“To y/n,” Mr. Gojo says, raising his glass up into the air, “for being our newest addition to the family.”

You all clink your glasses together, then in a variety of pairings, the last one being the tap of Gojo’s glass against yours, before you all take a drink.

“So…” Mrs. Gojo speaks up, “exactly how long have the two of you been married?”

You glance at Gojo for help, which isn’t exactly an unsuspecting thing to do.

“Four weeks,” he says.

You watch Mrs. Gojo’s eyes twitch. You can understand. Her own son gets married and doesn’t tell her anything about it for four weeks after the wedding. Well, in your case, a courthouse arrangement.

“Where did you two go for your honeymoon?” she asks, and Mr. Gojo clears his throat.

You look at Gojo for help again, and mentally pinch yourself for not being more discreet about how fake this whole thing is.

But Gojo surprisingly looks at ease. “Greece,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Gojo’s body language turns to you, clearly irritated by her son’s short and curt answers. “Did you have a fun time, dear?”

“Oh! Yes, it was a very fun time. Definitely did all the newly wed stuff. Just as normal newlyweds do, you know. Because we are newlyweds,” you say through an awkward cough.

“Like…?” Mrs. Gojo pushes, and you can tell that she’s asking out of a genuine curiosity over the itinerary you two had allegedly carried out, but you crack under the pressure.

“W—…We made love,” you say, “we made lots and lots of love.”

The sound of silverware clanking onto ceramic plates startles you out of the blissful ignorance you had to the words that you had just said. Like you were so caught up in your mind about wanting to seem like an actual real life couple to his parents that you almost forgot about the number one social rule when meeting your (fake) significant other’s parents: no references to copulation. 

You glance up to find Mrs. Gojo’s eyes are wide, a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks. The width of Mr. Gojo’s eyes match his wife’s except his expression is also duly accompanied by a furrowed, perplexed brow. Sana looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and trying hard to put on a poker face as she pretends like she didn’t just hear what you said.

You finally glance at Gojo, who’s looking at you with the most what the fuck? face you’ve ever seen someone make, and there’s concern on there somewhere too, like he’s not even fully convinced that you’re mentally sane at the moment because why on God’s green Earth would you say something like that at a family dinner table.

Trying your best to laugh it off, you say, “ah…ahaha, d-did I say make love? I meant–I meant that we–”

“Just–” Gojo interrupts you. “Just stop.”

Everyone are still stunned silent and the flush to your cheeks grows warmer. While clearing your throat, you set your lap napkin up on the table and clumsily scootch yourself out of your chair.

“Ex…cuse…me...” you mumble under your breath, knocking the table with your knee on accident, your wine glass almost toppling all over the pretty linen tablecloth but your reflexes catch the stem to steady it. “I need to…use the restroom.” And then you head straight down the hallway without sparing them another glance.

“Use the upstairs one!” Mrs. Gojo calls out to you, “the guest bathroom is under renovation.”

“Of fucking course it is,” you mutter under your breath, but flash them a polite smile before rounding the staircase pillar and then briskly walking up the stairs.

You quickly realize there’s more personality to the house upstairs, with some clutter in the theater loft and mismatching decorations that don’t reveal the careful deliberation of an indoor designer. The master bedroom is directly to the right of the top of the staircase and you glance across the loft at a narrow hallway that leads into the three bedrooms tucked away into the heart of the house.

One foot after the other, you float in that direction as if some force were compelling you towards it. Some trance of curiosity that no human being could ever resist. It’s fine. You didn’t actually need to piss anyways.

The first bedroom you walk past is rather boring, with beige tones all around. Beige bed sheets, beige wall paint, beige lamp shade, beige curtains. But the air smells crisp, and you notice there’s a shelf that has about half a dozen plants lined up in a variety of artistic pots. Similar to the set-up Gojo has in his house at home. You walk inside and brush your fingers across the dresser surface, rubbing fine dust over the pads of your fingers, and with your next inhale, you sneeze.

A guest bedroom, you think to yourself.

The next bedroom you walk past is sweeter, kinder, warmer. There’s pink hues scattered across, the most obvious one being the pillow covers, and there are some shades of a baby blue as well. But the furniture looks modern, sleek, and new. There were two identities at war in the room, like that of a little girl and a grown woman. Neither able to find its voice among the chaos of friendship bracelets sprawled across the desk and the Louis Vuitton purse resting at the foot of the bed. 

Sana’s room, you think to yourself. 

Childhood bedrooms are like time capsules if left untouched for very long. You’ve lived in your room at home for as long as you can remember, only recently having shifted to the master bedroom. The room grew up with you. It had no chance to become some entity of its own. 

The next bedroom you walk by feels familiar, even before you walk inside. There’s a comforting feeling that envelopes just from the lighting alone. You push the door open with a gentle palm.

The culprit of any young man’s room–navy blue sheets. Stretched taut against a made-up bed that has some sort of feminine flair to it, like it wasn’t set by Gojo, but rather his mother passing by his room one day to sit in his absence, only to needlessly mess with the sheets because it gave her a sense of purpose. You go eighteen years pouring blood, sweat, and tears into raising a child, protecting them, nurturing them, being the one they lean on for all of life’s woes, only for them to pack up and leave one day. You suppose that if you were a parent, you would find melancholy in that loss of responsibility too. 

His desk is a large expanse of cedar wood with a desktop monitor and some bookshelf speakers set up on it. The PC itself has collected dust over the years but there’s a small mechanical whirring noise you hear somewhere within. The rest of the desk is mostly empty except for some unopened mail tucked away with some books, the spines creased at the last few hundred pages, but never to the end. 

You pick one of the books up, flipping the pages open, and see sticky notes on some of them. Like English literature notes one would take in class, with studious words that over exaggerate the significance of the prose just to make a teacher happy. Who cares if the curtains were blue? Maybe the author just wanted them to be blue. Why does everything in life have to have meaning?

Setting the book back down with a sigh, you walk over to the bookshelf. There are some more trophies, some sets of comic books, some strange robotic-looking figurines. Small picture frames of foreign scenery are set up in different corners wherever there is empty space, like an afterthought. 

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself, tilting your head to the side to read the vertical spine of a thick black book that was tucked flush up against the shelf's side. 

West Valley High School. Class of 2007.

With your index finger hooking the spine, you slowly pull the book out from its comfy corner. It’s heavy in your hands and you notice that there are ink smudges across the tips of your fingers.

When you open the cover, you’re met with a page filled with a variety of colors and handwriting, and you realize they’re signatures. And to no one’s surprise, most of them are feminine. With hearts, some merely outlines, some shaded in with ink, scattered across the page. Bubbly handwriting, neat handwriting, cursive handwriting, a lot of it in pinks and purples and reds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was like those Valentine’s Day cards all the girls would sign in grade school to pass onto their crush, except imagine if all of them were intended for just one guy.

You roll your eyes as you flip the pages, seeing no end in sight to the signed ink. I mean, come on, how many signature pages does a yearbook even need? This was excessive. And, no, you aren’t bitter simply because your high school yearbook has maybe a max of fifteen signatures (four of which were from your teachers). It’s just frustrating. And confusing. Why does everyone on this planet adore Gojo except you? Is there something wrong with you? Are you the problem?

There are some signatures from boys too, most likely his friends. Otherwise, you’re not sure what random fleeting classmate you’ve only spoken to a couple times would be brazen enough to draw pictures of penises squirting in whatever empty space they could find in your yearbook, if not for his high school friends. These boys are probably in their mid thirties now, just as Gojo is, maybe with wives and kids they’re now responsible for. You wonder if they’d still find the drawings funny all the same today.

You flip the pages more, taking in image after image after image of smiling portraits. ABC…DE…F…ah, G. Hmm, there. There it was. 

Gojo Satoru.

Seems like his high school didn’t allow yearbook quotes, but you try to imagine what his would be. Probably something corny and lame, like See kids? I told you I was sexy in high school.

He looks cute though. With his hair fluffy, boyishly ruffled to pair with a charming smile that’s at ease. He just looks a little younger, that’s all. Not that much different. Perhaps a bit more scrawny, a bit more mischievous-looking. As opposed to his adult self, who appears sturdy. More serious. But you realize that cheeky part of him that comes out every now and then when he’s teasing you or pissing you off is that boy within him that looks exactly like the portrait in this yearbook that you trace with the pad of your finger. 

You close the book, suddenly a little out of breath, and then slip it back into place. Your eyes catch the shimmer of the trophy at the top of the shelf. It was shaped like a baseball glove mitt, and in the palm cup, there is an actual baseball in there with a black ink signature. You gently pick it up and turn it in your palm to try and read the ink.

Ichiro.

Your dad used to watch baseball. You’re familiar. Seattle Mariners, Ichiro Suzuki. The first Japanese player to ever make it to the Major Leagues. Ten time all-star, and tenth member of the Mariners hall of fame. He retired when you were just a little girl, but you still remember the look of awe in your father’s eyes as he stared at the box TV in the living room of your house when Ichiro took his last stand at the plate.

Gojo was also a boy at that time. Living in this house. Maybe his old man was watching that game at the same time. And maybe Gojo was watching the look on his father’s face, too. It’s the romance of life–you look up at the moon in the sky, and you know that there is someone else out there, someone that you’ll meet some day, maybe even someone that will mean the world to you someday, who’s looking at it too. But you just don’t know it yet.

Lost in endless, rather fruitless thought, you continue to turn the baseball in your hand to pointlessly assess the seams, but it slips out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor with a loud hollow thud that startles you, and when you attempt to bend down and pick it up, you accidentally push it with your toe and it rolls underneath the bed.

“Shit,” you mumble, getting down onto your hands and knees to look underneath the bed.

You see the ball rolled a few feet away, and when you reach for it, it becomes clear that you don’t have the arm span to grab it. You struggle and you struggle, the tips of your fingers barely tickling its seam, and the frustration makes you sweat a little.

“Come…here…you…stupid…thing,” you mutter. You’re sure your hair is a static mess now, too. 

You finally manage to roll it towards you a couple inches and then your palm wraps around it before pulling it to your shoulder, but not without something collateral that’s dragged along with it.

A photograph. Printed out, vintage. You pinch the corner between your two fingers and stand back up onto your two feet in order to better assess the image under the light of the floor lamp.

The first person you notice in the photo is Gojo. He looks younger than in the yearbook, but he’s wearing a suit and a tie. It’s a little big on him, ill-fitting as most teenage boys should look in a suit, like a rite of passage. His smile is less warm than the one in the yearbook too, more prim and stretched into a thin line that’s only slightly curved upwards. It’s only then when you notice the slender fingers sprawled across his chest near the collar of his undershirt, black nail polish blending in with the fabric of the suit. Your eyes trail the dainty hand, and your heart skips a beat when you see a girl standing next to him, pressed up against him, her smile much brighter than his. Pink braces line her teeth and her hair is that classic mid-2000s side-swept bang mess, but she’s pretty. Dressed in a pink-ish purple gown that almost looks like a bridesmaids dress, and you finally see the banner stretched across behind the both of them in the picture that reads Homecoming 2005. 

It’s hard to explain it, but you can just feel it somehow. That this person is important to him. Not just some last-minute date to Homecoming, or an old high school girlfriend he’s long since lost touch with. It seems larger than that, somehow. Unlike penises drawn on yearbook paper, this feels like something a person never outgrows.

Of course, people have lived fully-fledged lives before you’ve met them. Just as you have as well. But you’re overtaken by the insane curiosity to want to learn every single detail about this past life that Gojo has lived. Where did he and his friends hang out after school? When did he learn how to drive? When was the first time he got shit-faced drunk? When was the first time he snuck out of the house? And who was this girl in the picture? 

“Find what you’re lookin’ for yet?” a voice calls out, entirely startling you to where you almost jolt out of your skin, and you swiftly turn on your heel towards the entrance of the room. 

You see Gojo standing in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he levels his gaze at you. He has a blank expression on his face, although you would say it’s more serious than playful. 

“What–...I–” you stutter, shuffling the picture you were holding behind your back so he doesn’t see. 

His eyes don’t flit to the movement. “You don’t have to tear the room apart to find my illicit drugs. You could’ve just asked.”

 You roll your eyes. “As if you would do drugs.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

“So, then, if you’re not looking for drugs, what are you looking for?”

Your cheeks are warm. “I don’t know. Petty cash? Human body parts? Playboy?”

He snorts. “Playboy? Who still has a subscription to Playboy?”

“Maybe your teenage self did.”

“I’m not that old,” he says, “I was watching porn like the rest of my peers.”

“Ew, you freak,” you say, and you grab one of his pillows and throw it at him.

He lets out a laugh before catching the pillow with ease, and then walks up to you, placing the pillow on top of your head. You half-glare, half-pout at him.

“C’mon,” he probes, “tell me why you’re hiding away up here.”

“I embarrassed myself,” you confide in him with a sulk of your shoulders. “I mean. Seriously. What the fuck was that? What a humiliating thing to say in front of your parents. I just feel so weird pretending like this.”

His expression softens. “Sorry,” he says, “for dragging you into this dinner.”

“No,” you sigh, “I’m the one that did. I forgot you can’t necessarily fake a marriage without…doing the typical couple things.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he hums as his gaze flits towards the bed, “doing the typical couple things, you say?”

You roll your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, in my dreams alright,” he says with a grin.

“And if I strangled you? What then?”

“I like that. It’s kinky.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t have magazines lying around?”

“Brown box underneath the bed. You didn’t look hard enough.”

You give him a disgusted look. He laughs.

“I’m joking,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not convinced,” you say, turning your body away from him slightly to keep the photo hidden behind your back.

He tilts his head at you, gaze flickering down to your other hand. Your heart skips a beat. “I could’ve guessed that.” 

His hand reaches out and you flinch ever so slightly, something he thankfully doesn’t notice, and then he’s grabbing the baseball out of your palm.

“I always thought I could sell this thing for major money,” he muses, throwing the ball up into the air to catch it. And then doing so again a couple times.

“It’s authentic?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I caught it. First ball game my old man ever took me to, and it happened to be Ichiro’s last.”

Your eyes widen. Gojo was at that game. He wasn’t just watching it from home on some TV like you did with your dad. He was living in it.

“Wow,” you say, “must’ve been quite the game.”

“Don’t really remember too much about it to be honest, other than how stoked I was to just be there with my dad.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I’ll have to ask Mr. Gojo more about it when we get downstairs.”

His expression falters slightly, his smile dropping in the most subtle way that you wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been intently staring at his face. 

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe.”

Gojo continues to stare at the ball in his palm as he rotates it in inspection. There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of you, and you feel the burden of conversation has suddenly fallen on you. 

“My, um. My dad was a fan too,” you say.

His eyes glance up to meet yours. “How come I’ve never met him?”

The question catches you off guard. “Wh–...I’m sorry, what?”

“Your dad,” he says, as if it was something so casual. 

“That–...well, he’s–...I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in years,” you admit, “not since…not since my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

He stares at you earnestly, studying your expression, before he decides on saying nothing else except, “I’m sorry about that.”

You sigh. “Satoru, I–” you start, keen on the way his body stiffens slightly when you say his name, “I really don’t have the capacity for much else tonight. I mean, the questions. And the lies. And walking on eggshells around your mom.” 

“Well. I was sent up here to get you,” he says, “and I can’t exactly go downstairs empty handed.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with as fast as possible.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, “I’m with you on that one.”

You take a step forward to head towards the door, but then suck in a sharp gasp when you remember what was being held behind your back.

“Wait,” you say, “look away.”

“...huh?” he huffs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just look away for a second.”

His eyebrows furrow before he lifts one in a questioning manner. But he acquiesces and turns on his heel to face away from you. “Have I ever told you how strange you are?”

“No,” you say while discretely crouching down, playing along in an attempt to distract him, “you haven’t.” You flinch a little from the sound of your hip popping, but he doesn’t seem to notice and so you bend your wrist in preparation of flinging the photo back to the abyss underneath his bed.

But you stop.

And you take one more glance at the photo.

And your stomach flips the same way it did the first time you saw it.

If you asked, would he tell you?

But the more pressing question is,

Why are you so scared to find out?

You shake your head vigorously to get rid of all your pestering intrusive thoughts. It was the stress, you played it off. A hyperactive mind leads to hyperactive ruminations. And besides, it’s just silly. Sure, there’s your gut feeling that suggests otherwise. But this girl in the photo could really just be an old friend or girlfriend that had no significant impact on the trajectory of his life. Why be the crazy one and lose sleep over this? You’ve lost sleep over plenty of other things in your life, but not stuff like this. It’s just not like you.

You fling the photo across underneath the bed and then stand up just in time for when Gojo turns around to look at you out of curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, dusting your hands off, “let’s go.”

You walk over to where he stands by the doorframe, a slight warmth to your cheeks when he doesn’t move out of your way like he usually does, but instead he leans towards you slightly as you brush past him, and your heart jumps a beat in your chest when you feel his hand gently fall to the small of your back, softly urging you forward ahead of him. A feather of a touch, yet intentional, almost naturally so, like a curious test of the boundary between you two that he’s been dying to understand a bit better. And the fact you don’t turn on your heel to face him with that same undeserved and petty rage that you always do, and instead slightly shudder at the feel of his touch, means that somewhere along the way, you’ve moved the line a little closer.

He’s hot on your trail as you walk down the stairs slowly and when you turn around the post at the bottom then make your way back to the dining room, you see his family staring at you with wide eyes.

His mother stands up. “y/n! Come sit back down, dear.”

You nod meekly, and Gojo pulls your chair out for you to take a seat before he resumes his seat next to you.

The food is slightly cold by the time you finally get to pick at it. It’s not very seasoned, either. Not enough salt for your taste. But somehow Mrs. Gojo having a phobia of sodium is a study of character that makes perfect sense in your head.

Eventually, the awkward silence is too much for you to bear, and you set your fork and knife down on your napkin with a slight bit more force than you probably should’ve.

Everyone looks at you.

You sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier,” you say, “I’m…uh, I’m just not really used to these sorts of dinners…I don’t have much family here in this town, and it’s always just sort of been my mom and me. And I—…I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Wide eyes blink at you. Mr. Gojo shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat while Mrs. Gojo blinks her long lashes at you. Sana tilts her head, and you have no interest in seeing what Gojo’s expression looks like. You fear it’s the one you’d remember the most.

You were just being honest with how you felt. And it doesn’t take you long to realize something you probably should’ve realized earlier walking into a home like this where everything was perfect and on display with no evidence of the way a true family can crumble on the inside—a house like this does not value honesty. Your mother couldn’t afford you many luxuries in life, but you never felt like you couldn’t be honest in front of her. 

You glimpse up at Sana, and there is some knowing expression on her face. It’s almost sympathetic. As if you two were on the same page about something right now. When you glance at Gojo, you see him staring down at his plate with his brow slightly furrowed.

“It…it’s quite alright, dear,” his mother says through a prim voice, and in an attempt to change the subject, she says, “I do hope you are enjoying the chicken.”

“Ah,” you exhale, “yes. I am.”

“So!” Mrs. Gojo chimes in again as she dabs her mouth to a linen napkin. “Tell me about what you do for fun.”

You blink at her. “Oh, umm…binge watch TV? Occasionally I’ll go for a walk.”

“Ahh interesting! What about reading? Do you enjoy reading?”

“Well, the last book I purchased was a picture book about North Korean missiles…so.”

She lets out a laugh. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

You hear Gojo sigh beside you before he reluctantly sets down his silverware and then he turns to Mrs. Gojo. “Mom. C’mon. This isn’t a job interview. Just let her eat.”

There’s a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears from the interrogation interruption as she glances between the two of you. She looks over at Sana for help but finds nothing other than a gaze tipped down towards a plate full of picked-at food. Mr. Gojo folds a hand over her frail knuckles as if to silently communicate, but Mrs. Gojo retreats her hands to fold in her lap underneath the table.

Feeling somewhat bad for the two of them, you turn the face Gojo’s dad. “Um…Mr. Gojo, Satoru was telling me about how you were a big baseball fan and a big Ichiro fan…do you still keep up with the Mariners?”

The man’s eyes grow wide with a visible confusion and you swear you hear Gojo clear his throat beside you.

“Ah…that’s–” he starts before the sound of the doorbell ringing startles you.

Sana immediately stands up without a word of excusal or a glance in anyone’s direction and she heads straight for the door.

You all look around at one another before Mrs. Gojo says, “must be Jun.”

You were at least glad to find you would not be the only “in-law” at the table full of a tension-laced family dinner, especially given the fact that in most of the cases where you’ve met Jun, his penchant to talk overshadows any other energy.

“What’s up, y/n!” Jun shouts when he waltzes into the dining hall, a few steps ahead of Sana. He throws his jacket over the first surface he finds, body language matching that of someone twenty years younger than he actually is. You can’t tell if it’s overcompensation for something, or if he just genuinely believes he’s still in his twenties. 

To your surprise, he opens his arms out for you to greet him with a hug, and you hesitate before standing up slightly to give him a well-meaning wrap of your arms around him, but it lacks any warmth of familiarity.

“Welcome to the fam!” he jovially exclaims before patting your arm. He then hugs Mr. Gojo, then Mrs. Gojo (paired with those cheek kisses that the French do in greeting), then daps up Gojo (to which you notice Gojo is less than enthusiastic about) before he finally kisses Sana on the cheek and then takes his seat at the other end of the table. Your eyes are keen on Sana now, watching her intently, but she remains staring at the food on her plate. You had a feeling there was someone in this room that didn’t want to be at this dinner even more than you did.

“How was traffic, Jun?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“Oh it was nothing. Took a shortcut. Backroute off of Lake City Way. Full of pot holes though.”

Sana turns to him and scowls. “While you were taking Juno to her sleepover?!”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? We were running late.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to take that route to get into the city! Those pot holes are so dangerous.”

“Honey. Chill. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Just last week I saw news of three plot holes on the Mercer Street intersection opened up. Three people were injured, including a young boy.”

“Okay well if I also believed everything I saw on the news was going to personally happen to me too then we’d have never gotten this far in life.”

“Jun,” Sana deadpans.

“W-Why don’t I fix you a plate, Jun? You must be tired.” Mrs. Gojo chimes in. 

Sana breathes in deep and exhales slowly before slumping down into her chair. 

“Thanks,” Jun says, easing his brow as he sits back in his chair nonchalantly, before he turns to Gojo and starts to talk about mundane things like the stock market, the recent election, something about a new bowling record, and this one Thai restaurant he really wants to try on the other end of town, all within the span of time it takes Mrs. Gojo to set a plate down in front of him.

Mr. Gojo jumps in on conversation from time to time. Mrs. Gojo listens idly, sometimes placing a laugh where she feels appropriate. Jun gets particularly animated about this incident he ran into earlier last week when he was dropping Juno off at school, a story that you notice everyone at the table is for some reason entirely intrigued by, but you suppose it’s the most interesting topic of conversation you’ve all had tonight thus far. At certain critical points of the story, Sana jumps in with a that’s not what happened, Jun and you find yourself finally settling in somewhat to the evening.

Just as Jun’s story is ending, you glance up to Mrs. Gojo and find that she’s staring at you with a smile on her face. It makes you jump in your seat a little, luckily unnoticed by the rest of the table because of Jun’s engaging theatrical hand gestures as he attempts to keep his wife, his brother-in-law and his father-in-law engaged. You would’ve expected Mrs. Gojo to avert her gaze the second yours locked with hers, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look at you with a soft smile on her face and a slight tilt to her head, like she’s getting used to the sight of seeing you at this table.

Her gaze flits downwards slightly and you follow her line of gaze, tracing it to the ring that was adorning your left hand. 

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh–” you stutter, the words already getting caught in your throat, “I–...I forgot to say, it’s an honor to wear your ring, Mrs. Gojo.” The table suddenly goes quiet, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you, or if it’s because there was no more story left to tell. “It’s beautiful.”

It truly felt like for every two steps you took forward, it was ten steps backwards. Because you watch the way that soft smile of hers entirely drops, her expression replaced with one of confusion, brows knitted together as she looks at you like you’ve just spoken in a language no one on Earth can speak. 

She glances at Gojo, and you don’t have to look at him  to tell that he’s stiff in his seat. You could’ve felt the tension from a mile away. 

Mrs. Gojo looks at you again. “Oh honey, that–” She glances between you and Gojo. “That’s not my ring…”

Your eyes widen, cheeks already flush from whatever’s to come.

But suddenly, and to your surprise, Sana speaks up. “It was our mother’s ring.”

You look at her with confusion. And then you glance at Gojo. And then you glance back at Sana. And then at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo.

“But…” you trail off.

“Sumiko and Daichi are our aunt and uncle,” Sana says with a strained voice, “our real parents died in a house fire when we were younger.”

You blink at her in shock.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I–” You glance at Gojo and see that he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the glass of scotch he was twirling around in his hand.

“Of course he didn’t,” Sana interrupts, the bitterness in her voice matching the attitude she’s since displayed this entire evening. Her gaze is locked onto her brother’s face, and when his gaze flickers up to meet her eye contact, his expression is set with a tense jaw. “He never wants to mention them. He never wants to acknowledge their life. He never wants to honor them. He just wants to pretend like they never existed.”

“Sana,” he cuts her off, and a chill gets sent down your spine from the seriousness and rigidity in his voice. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“When is the fucking time?!” she spats at him, the simmering tension brewing over. Ah. Yes. The moment you had been expecting. After all, what family does not have its baggage? Sana abruptly stands up from the table, startling everyone with the clanking of silverware and ceramic from the motion. “When is the fucking time for you to admit that you never gave a shit about mom and dad dying? When is the fucking time for you to admit that we moved on to live with these people so fast? When is the fucking time for you to admit how wrong it was for you to force me to call the people here my mom and dad my whole life when they aren’t?” Her voice cracks near the end.

You glance at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, who both look shocked, hurt, even embarrassed as they gaze down at their food. Your heart stalls in your chest for them.

When you glance back at Gojo, you see that his gaze is hardened even further now. “You’re being rude,” he says, in as steady of a voice as he can manage from the way his brow is creased with disappointment. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Sana says as she wipes at the tears with her sleeves, and you notice that she looks young like this. Younger than the usual prim and proper self that she portrays. Too young to be a mom, too young to be a wife, too young to be an adult. Like someone propelled into a life that she never wanted. “That’s always what you say, isn’t it? No answers, you just claim that I’m being childish and rude.” Jun tries to reach out to hold her hand but she snatches it away from him. Under her breath she says, “I didn’t want to come here. I should’ve just stayed home.” And with a rough swipe of her sleeve across both of her cheeks, she suddenly storms off somewhere deep into the house. Jun immediately stands up to follow her, leaving the four of you here with stale, cold food.

The timer in the oven goes off, the sound heard in the distance like a lifeline, and Mrs. Gojo immediately stands up. “Ah, must be…the roasted potatoes. I’ll be right back,” she fusses, and you avert your gaze from her face so she doesn’t feel embarrassed over the streak of a tear you saw streaming down her face.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Gojo says in a small sheepish mumble before following his wife into the kitchen.

And then there were two.

You only have a moment to process the dramatic outburst and subsequent fall-through before you turn in your chair to face Gojo, your face narrowing in contempt. You see him running a hand through his hair, entirely ruffling out any sort of neatness he had combed it into earlier, and he undoes the top button of his shirt with an impatient thumb like he was letting go of whatever image he had been trying to keep up for tonight, because after what just happened, there was no use. 

“So when were you going to tell me that they aren’t actually your real parents???” you hiss at him.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They’ve raised us since Sana was just three years old. I didn’t think it mattered.” 

“Okay well if I had known then I wouldn’t have mentioned the ring??? Now everyone’s left the table because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he quickly corrects you, “it’s because of years of unnecessary drama of which I’ve still got no fucking clue why it still gets brough up at every. family. dinner. If you didn’t bring it up, then they would’ve figured out a way to bring it up somehow anyways.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback by how dejected he was by this entire conversation.

“Are you going to go check on Sana?” you ask him.

“No,” he says without hesitation, “she’ll calm down soon enough.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his dismissal, before you let out a huff of disappointment and disapproval. You pull your napkin off of your lap, setting it up on the table, and slip out of your chair to head into the house in the direction you saw Sana storm off into, leaving Gojo to himself at the table.

As you walk down the hallway, all those pictures you saw hung up on the walls, those photos of illusion that painted this pretty picture of a nuclear family fall apart in the narrow space, those firm smiles and hesitant postures making much more sense to you now. They aren’t even his real parents. Baseball and wedding rings. Those details belonged to a life he never intended on sharing with you. 

You walk past the kitchen, stopping briefly just beyond the entrance before backtracking and you find Sana standing near the sink with her arm across her chest as her other hand wipes at her cheeks. The soft sound of a sniffle echoes in the room and you’re surprised to see that Jun left her alone.

Tentatively, you shuffle your feet across the wooden floor. She seems to make note of you in her periphery but refuses to glance up. 

“Hey…” you start when you finally make it to the space in front of her, your hip leaning against the edge of the sink counter in parallel with hers as you face her.

“I—” she starts, shuffling her palms across her cheeks again. “I am so severely embarrassed.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the honesty. “Don’t be. It’s just family.”

“No but that’s the point,” she says through a crack in her voice, “I’m thirty-one, I’m married, I’m a mom, but they’ll always just see me as some immature little brat because I always behave like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You suppose if you were a therapist, or a priest, or a mentor, or a mom yourself, or any other person with an emotional IQ higher than yourself, you would know the right thing to say to her right now. But you don’t. So silence is all that you can offer her, and you hope that it’s enough.

It seems to work in it’s own magical way, as she slowly opens herself up to you within the next passing sixty seconds. A fleeting glance up to your face. The halt of pointless fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. The way she stands up straighter, her hip no longer leaning against the kitchen counter, and you find that you mirror the same movement.

She clears her throat, rubbing her nose with the knuckle of her index finger, her eyes no longer glistening with tears but the corners of them look puffy.

You glance down at your feet for a moment before inhaling deep and making eye contact with her. “Hey, listen…” you say, “I’m—…I’m really sorry…about earlier today. For overstepping about the bullying. Juno’s your daughter, and I really shouldn’t have given her advice before at least running it by you beforehand. Especially for something so sensitive.”

The delicate muscles of her brow lift in surprise at your words, lids fluttering slowly as she processes your words, and the wave of melancholy is contagious as it washes through you as well.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, “for how angry I got with you. It’s just—” she hesitates, and you see that semblance of her that you’re more familiar with. Strict, stern, rough around the edges but for a noble reason. “Y’know, with kids…we tend to get overprotective over them.” Her gaze drops to somewhere beneath yourselves as if she suddenly lost confidence in her train of thought. “I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.”

A silence settles between the two of you before you realize you ought to respond to her.

“I get it,” you finally say. “I mean—…I don’t. Because I’m not a mom. But…I’m sure that when I am one some day, I’d understand.”

She finally offers you a smile in return to your words, polite but genuine nonetheless. And a soft remnant sniffle makes her ruffle her nose.

Her expression softens, and she stares straight ahead to your collarbone rather than your eyes. “She really likes you, you know?” Sana glances up at you now. “Hasn’t stopped talking about your ‘blubbery’ pancakes since last week.”

“Aww.”

There’s a sad glint in her eyes when she turns her torso away from you slightly in resignation before some hint of optimism flashes by in her face and she turns to you again.

“Do you…think you could give me the recipe?”

You want to ask her if everything is okay. But instead, you say, “sure.”

The sound of footsteps approaching is heard near the kitchen entrance and the two of you glance in that direction to see Jun walking in. He offers you a fleeting glance before taking his place beside Sana, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him towards her before placing a kiss on her temple and saying, “hey honey.” 

You watch as she averts her gaze down to the tips of her toes.

“Feeling better?” he asks her but there’s this lack of warmth you cannot quite discern.

“Yes,” she responds, scratching at her cheek as a discreet way of getting rid of the last remaining wetness that had streamed down her face earlier.

He rubs her arm soothingly and then looks at you with a smile pressed into a firm line. “Doing alright?”

You blink at him. “Wh—…yes.”

“Say, y/n, how’s your mom doing by the way?” he asks.

“She’s…better. She’s in hospice now.”

“Palliative?”

“Well—” you say, “I guess. It’s just temporary.”

He shuffles inside the pocket of his coat and takes out something. A small card with finely printed black ink on it. He hands it to you.

“I can’t imagine how expensive that all must be,” he says, and you glance down at the card.

Carevest Capital est. 2016

Invest in a healthier you!

You glance up at Jun. Sana’s gaze has now shifted to the inside of the sink.

“I started this business,” he says, “where we’re revolutionizing the way healthcare costs are managed. In our platform, we basically invest our clients’ money into the stock market, leveraging our high-reward algorithm to maximize returns. But here’s the unique part: we partner with leading healthcare CEOs who match a portion of the profits as an incentive for stock purchases. Together, these funds go directly toward paying off hospital bills and easing related financial burdens.”

Your eyes widen at his words. The speech was practiced, one you can only assume he has pitched to many potential clientele. But there’s a hint of personable grace to it as well.

“I’m telling you, y/n, we’ve had clients who have overcome six figures of medical debt in just six months,” he says, “and you’ll only need a couple thousand dollars to start yourself up.”

You purse your lips together, your finger pinching the corner of the card. “That’s amazing, Jun.”

He smiles at you, releasing Sana’s waist. “Sorry if this kinda came out of nowhere, but I heard through the grapevine that things have been rough.”

Oh, like how your card has declined publicly at the grocery store multiple times, or how you haven’t been able to afford your insurance deductible to get that chipped off part of your bumper fixed, or the fact you haven’t paid your landscapers in over three months so your lawn now looks like a swamp? It was a small town. And people’s finances were always a topic of interest for most.

“I just wanted to offer any help I can,” Jun says.

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile, “I’ll, um, I’ll look into it.” You push the card into your pocket.

He offers you that same firm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he pulls Sana to him again, placing another kiss along her hairline and the PDA seems like overcompensation on some front from the way Sana is entirely frigid to his touch. 

Maybe it was a woman’s intuition,

But you felt like something was wrong.

“Kids,” you hear Mr. Gojo’s crackly voice say as he stands leaning against the doorframe near the kitchen entrance, “let’s finish dinner?”

The three of you exchange glances before nodding and heading back towards the hall.

Your peach cobbler was apparently very good, the only thing that seemed to cut through the tension of the night. But that was the thing with family, right? You can yell and scream and cry and lecture and mope and roll your eyes at each other all you want but at the end of the day, they’re still family. Sana still seems slightly dejected though, and you can see Gojo in the corner of your eye at the table glancing up at her every other minute or so. His own way of making sure she’s doing okay, you think to yourself. Sana refuses to meet anyone’s line of sight except yours, however, which makes you feel some slight burdensome responsibility of sisterhood you had never signed up for. Nonetheless, you try to offer her a soothing smile whenever she looks up at you, and it seems to put her at ease.

The news of Sana and Jun moving seemed slightly anticlimactic, as Mrs. Gojo mentioned that they had already had an inkling that Jun and Sana would be moving closer to the city. You briefly wonder if Mrs. Gojo knew all along, but decided to make the announcement into some big affair just so that she could see her niece and nephew over a meal.

You make no more embarrassing comments. Conversation dulls into anything and everything unpersonal to you all, such as the news and weather and gossip of other people. And somewhere along the night, you relax your knee, the ball of it pressing into Gojo’s thigh underneath the table. It was wordless, innocent contact that occurs when two people become more comfortable with one another. Only excusable due to the slight buzz you felt in your veins from the wine. He’s kissed you before, yet somehow the press of his thigh against yours feels even more searing. There’s a point along the night where you tip your head to the right slightly, daringly close to resting your head on his shoulder due to the tipsy dizziness weighing in your head, and it would certainly put on a convincing show of newlywed affection for his aunt and uncle, but you manage to catch yourself. And subsequently refuse any more glasses of wine.

“Thanks for having me,” you say to Mrs. Gojo at the front entrance before she pulls you in for a hug.

“Oh, anytime dear,” she says as she gently pats your back, “please.”

When she pulls away from the hug, she holds you by your shoulders before her eyes glance down towards your left hand and the shimmering diamond that sat on the ring finger. She holds your hand in hers and lifts it to examine the twinkle underneath the lights of the chandelier.

“It really is a pretty ring,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “It looked beautiful on my sister, and it looks beautiful on you too.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Please,” she says in response to the title, “Sumiko is fine.” But in less of a way in which she’s relaxing formalities, but rather in a way that acknowledges she never had the sovereignty to be called that in the first place.

You hear masculine voices approaching down the hallway as the three men make their way towards the front entrance as well. Gojo glances at you in the midst of their conversation, and he leaves the two of them to make his way over to you.

“Alright,” Gojo says, turning to face the rest of them as he stands beside you. “We’ll head out now.”

Sumiko pulls him in for a hug, then his uncle, and then obnoxiously by Jun as well. Sana fidgets with her fingers as she remains at the end of the line, and you catch a glimpse of surprise on her face when Gojo pulls her in for a hug too. You see him whisper something to her, and it’s only after she hears what he said that she returns the hug and wraps her arms around him as well.

You’re jolted out of your people-watching trance when Gojo walks up to you and takes your hand in his, shoving his other in his pocket. You glance down at the sight, the way his large hand engulfs your own. It’s warm in a firm hold, delicately squeezing your hand once right before you feel the cold air behind you when his uncle opens the door.

Well, you survived. That’s what you think to yourself as you sit in the passenger seat of Gojo’s car, watching the city lights twinkle as you two drive by. You don’t know what you were expecting. Drama? Ease? Tension? For a piece of the sky to fall and land on the roof? There was a part of you that wanted to impress. You want to be one of those daughter-in-laws that the in-laws just adore. You know, where they’re like, god am I so happy that she’s a part of the family now! The one that the mother-in-law is just so ecstatic to know that her son managed to hold down such a catch.

But any expectations and pressure dissolve with the reminder that this is all fake. Fake, fake, fake. And you’d do really well to remind yourself of that reality whenever you spent time with Gojo. Whenever you find yourself acclimating into his life for even a moment, just remember that it’s fake. Can you have a little fun here and there? Sure. Will you probably find yourself in even stranger situations going forward? Yes, because, well, that’s how life is. But it’s just fake. No obligations, no responsibility, nothing. Nada. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

But as you walk through the front door, staring straight ahead into the dark house at Gojo’s back as he sets down the keys by the foyer table, and even as you follow him further into the house towards the kitchen, that feeling inside you surges. 

A woman's intuition.

That something between Jun and Sana was wrong.

Not just routine marital issues,

Or the occasional argument,

Something worse. Something dangerous.

And it’s not something you would ever expect a man to pick up on, even Gojo.

Because it was from the way Sana’s eyes silently communicated with you from across the table,

Something so subtle, a silent plea across a shared dimension,

That she needed help.

“Hey…” you speak up softly, standing in front of the fridge. 

Gojo glances over his shoulder at you from the other side of the kitchen island, barely illuminated by the moonlight through the windows. He turns to face you. “What’s up?”

You blink at him. 

“Um, I really don’t want to overstep again, but—”

There’s a sobering thought that flashes through your mind when you recall that you have never seen yourself as the hero in anyone’s story.

Simply because you could never, ever, ever trust yourself.

You could never trust your feelings or your decisions.

Because you cosigned on hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical loans. Because you stuck around for five years with a man that didn’t love you anymore. Because you still feel naive enough to believe that your best friend who betrayed you still misses you somehow. Because you still foolishly believe your mother will be around to hold her grandchildren someday.

Because you thought that your best bet in order to pull yourself out of hell was to fake marry a man,

And then act as if it’s all real when his aunt looks you in the eye with bittersweet tears as you now wear her bereaved sister’s ring in honor, entirely unaware it was actually being worn in vain.

How could you ever trust your judgement when you behave this way? 

Never the hero. If anything, the villain.

“What is it?” Gojo repeats when he sees that you’ve been silent for too long. He tilts his head at you, his hair falling over his forehead haphazardly and he runs a hand through it to try to get it out of his face. Even in the dim light, his eyes shine a breathtaking blue.

You swallow hard.

“Um,” you say, and then glance down at the wetness you find at your heel. “The, um, the fridge is leaking again.”

He blinks at you for a solid ten seconds, and then the tension in his shoulders drops when he sulks and closes his eyes with exhaustion and defeat.

“Fuck. Okay.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. looool i really keep thinking i can post shorter chapters and them bam they be 10k+ words. but i swearrr it's just cuz i be yapping :(( anywho hope you enjoyed this chapter!! a lot of characters were kinda introduced and mm given a bit more depth in this chapter. sorry there wasn't as much romance or anything in this one though haha there will be more in the next one :0 big big thank you to my lovely ihm beta readers ayelin, jules, leni & mirl for helping me out w this chapter!! i believe i may have mentioned this before but i STRUGGLLEEEE with multi-character scenes (i'm much more comfy writing scenes that just have back n forth between two characters) so this chapter was challenginggg esp the whole dinner sequences and there were also a lot of complicated feelings at play, descriptions, stuff i wasn't sure if it was coming off the right way (and tbh am still not sure haha) but they really helped me work my thoughts out n gave wonderful suggestions too so tysm :'') much loveee!! hope to see you all in the next one <3 - ellie

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[jirsungs]

DRUM ME, STUPID! ☆ p.js

pairing: drummer!jisung x fem!reader

drum me, stupid! synopsis: a story about a college student enjoying her life in school perfectly fine, until one of her friends drags the group along to watch their school's band perform. little did she know that day would be marked as the day her whole world turned upside down because of a particular, nonchalant, and difficult drummer boy. a drummer boy who spilled his entire drink on her brand new outfit at a party and never came back.

genre: college au, social media au (some chapters will be written though!), music band au, slight enemies to lovers, unrequited love (for a bit), whole bunch of fluff, angst, mutual pining, silly humor

warnings: explicit language, college partying, alcohol consumption, A LOT of banter between characters including sexual/kys/death jokes of the sort, reader's kind of an ass (in the beginning), jisung ends up being a lover boy once the "nonchalant" wears off, yeonjun flirts like 24/7, overwhelming feelings that the characters can't handle

author's note: hi! since i've always enjoyed reading smaus and always get writers block with full on stories, i decided to make my own :] please excuse my bad knowledge on any of these majors or experiences and none of this reflects the real lives of the kpop idols! this was written solely for entertainment and fun! enjoy!!<3

comment if you wish to be tagged for the story's updates!

profiles #1 ☆ profiles #2

chapters will be added once they're posted!

episode 1: i did NOT agree to this gc name!

episode 2: costumers of ningcreates?!

episode 3: the universe is out to get me

episode 4: p.y.t (pretty young thing) (written)

episode 5: jisung's a coward, we all say in unison

episode 6: the latte lounge incident (written)

episode 7: hating each other era

episode 8: future uncles and aunt

episode 9: apologies & new beginnings

episode 10: what a lover boy!

episode 11: love like the movies (written)

episode 12: super obvious, but still not a confession

episode 13: my wonderwall, at least i hope so (written)

episode 14: she's going ghost mode on me

episode 15: ain't no way a girl got you like this

episode 16: i missed you

episode 17: i missed you (too) (written)

episode 18: finally mine!

episode 19: ningcreates (expanded) fan club

episode 20: she fr got him liking musicals

episode 21: drummer's girlfriend duties

episode 22: i fear yeonjun's loyalty to latte lounge finally paid off

episode 23: first mistake: letting y/n out of your sight wtf

episode 24: you maam caller

episode 25: wym drummer boy has a driver's license??

episode 26: only losers make wishes at 11:11

episode 27: pussy boy stand up

episode 28: no girls allowed at rockway rehearsals! (written)

episode 29: crashed ynsung's date lol

episode 30: ning bag that shit

episode 31: drummed her stupid!

END! started: 06.23.24 finished: 09.03.24

BONUS CHAPTERS:

#1: close to you (written) tba. . .

#2: the not-so-silly apple or orange juice debate tba. . .

#3: finally meeting the parents? tba. . .

© JIRSUNGS. ANY TRANSLATIONS/REPOSTS/PUBLISHES OF MY WORKS ON ANY PLATFORM ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED! ALL COMMENTS, REBLOGS, LIKES, & FEEDBACK ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I LOVE YOU, MWA! <3

[leoascendente]

PAC/ Your destined person 💘

Hi loves and welcome to this new PAC! I'll be taking a time from this blog to focus on another projects, it doesn't mean that this blog will be unactive, it is just that I won't post that much pacs or astrology, I'll be more focused in my Spanish blog for a while. Anyway, private readings will still be open and from time to time I'll post something over here because Tumblr is and always will be my safe place.

Take a deep breath before choosig your pile and pick the picture you feel called the most, because this is a general reading it doesn't have to fully resonate, keep what does and leave what doesn't for somebody else, you can always choose another pile :)

For private readings click here

My blog in Spanish here

Decks: Romantic tarot, dark wood tarot, tea leafs oracle, romance angels oracle, love oracle cards

All pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Pile 1:

Who is your destined person?:

(Cards: 6 of swords, 3 of pentacles, 6 of pentacles, moon, hermit, queen of wands, king of swords/ hermit rev, death, wheel of fortune, 5 of pentacles, sun)

This person probably comes from a very different backgroud than you, it will seem like you don't have much in common at first, they have probably moved from the place they were born and are getting used to the new place. They are a hard worker, right now they are putting a lot of effort in this area of their life, probably to help financially their beloved ones, I'm hearing to help their parents, they are so focused in making money that they are not nurturing other aspects of their life like socializing, the good thing is that they don't seem to care about it. They got the hermit with two different decks, once upright and another time on reversed, it gives me the feeling that they feel very comfortable in their solitude but at the same time they are craving significative connections and a reason to get out of their isolation, for some reason they feel very exhausted but they can't sleep at night, they are like an owl, by night they seem to be more active even though they should be super tired because their work is exhausting (I'm writting this at 13:31 on my clock, maybe it's a relevant number for you or this connection). This person has some emotional issues that keeps them up at night, it's like they need these few extra hours of the day that they are taking from their resting time to relax when the rest of the world is quiet, maybe it's because they are far from home or because they miss their family, because this is related to their emotional world but for what I see here they are thinking too much about others and not about themselves and their mental peace. Anyway, this person is really attractive, for what I see in the cards, they have some not-so-secret admirers that are chasing them or looking desperately for their attention, whatever they are trying is not working with your person, your person seems to be an introvert or at least, they need to feel emotionally connected to something or someone to invest their energy fully on it, I could even say that they are a little shy when it comes to interact with other people. this person has an strong masculine energy, also I keep hearing the word resilient so this may be the most noticable trait about them, the thing here with the admirers is that they are chasing your person, like taking the masculine role but only for their outside appearance, your person seems to need something more to connect with someone and they prefer to court that to be courted. Right now they are closing chapters, there's a massive divine intervention in their life even if they are not aware of this, this is happening for their highest good because they need to get out of this hermit mode and start experiencing good things. They seem to be a little apathic and their lack of rest could be affecting their health too, even if they want it or not, a change is coming to align them, there will be a shift in their luck very soon, especially to help them financially because they seem to be struggling in this aspect. your person is really calmed and peaceful, very goal oriented and commited to what's important to them, you'll love the kind of person they are and the peace they'll bring to your life.

Your connection:

(Cards: deception, new love, this could be the one, playfulness/ girl with a snake, heartbroken, the phoenix, heart with a key, wedding rings)

Okay, your person had a very tough relationship with a toxic person that played with their heart and left them in the dust, this might be one of the reasons why they are avoiding so much human contact, especially with romantic interests, their heart is still recovering from this heartbreak. When you appear in their life, everything will trasform, it will be so magical and unexpected that they won't know what to do, you'll catch them off guard, everything will feel different with you, it's like they've been in a grey and clouded place and you appear to make the sun shine again in their life. This past relationship marked them but knowing you will make them realize that not everyone is the same, you will make them gain hope in love again, it will happen naturally and your relationship will be blossoming peacefully but with certainty, from the first moments they'll know that you are meant for them and will work to make you know it. This is a soulmate connection so you'll feel very comfortable with eachother like you know the other from a very long time, I see a lot of funny dates together, like an exhibition of some kind (I'm translating directly from google but I mean those places wih a ferris wheel, bumper cars, cotton candy and those places where you get a teddy bear if you drop all the bottle from the shelf, something that sort, please comment me the correct name of this lol). An important thing I see here is that your person might be shy at first and will try to make things the right way, not forcing anything, but what I like the most is that even though they have their heart wounded, they won't pay this pain with you, in fact, you'll be a reason to stop thinking about the past pain and focusing on the precious future you could share together, you'll ignite them faith in life, they'll find motivation again, they might even realize that they weren't as comfortable in their solitude as they wanted to project. I see a fast commitment, I also see that they will leave you the key of their home so you can stay there even when they are working, they'll try to make you part of their day to day life and will be very honest with your from the start, you can ask them anything and they will respond with all the truth, even if the truth doesn't leave them in good place, they want you to know every detail about them, you can also trust in them to share whatever you want, they will be super understanding and compassionate.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: sunrise, woman, feather, bull, desk, scissors, caterpillar)

By the moment you are about to meet your person, you'll be finding out the true intentions of a woman in your life, I don't know why but the energy of this woman gives me really bad vibe, like a two faced person, is someone that you should put distance with in order to protect your energy because in terms of love she could often have bad experiences and she will not be happy for you when you find your soulmate. There also this message of not sharing your ideas about the future, not just in love but about your goals or plans in work too, if you are thinking about initiate something by your own just keep it private for a while, or at least just share it with your closest ones because this woman or femenine energy around you don't what you to thrive. The good thing is that you got the card of the sunrise, so you'll be having a lot of new ideas that will lead you to find success, I'd suggest you to write down those ideas,take time to organize them and start implementing them in aries season, at the beggining of the spring, energies will be at your favor. For your person they'll be working really hard, there might be a chance for a rise or getting a higher position in their work field and they'll be focused into that, for others of you there might also be the chance that your person will be getting another job with a better salary, I'm getting especially this second option because your person seems to be very unhappy in their current job and they need better conditions, it also seems like there is some opposition from someone in their work and your person has to keep themselves in a defensive position to deal with it and they don't want this no more, they know they deserve a healthier work enviroment, maybe there's an abusive boss here. There's the possibility that you are really close to meet eachother because of the cards on tarot and this message so be aware of your surroundings because your person is closer than you imagine :)

Channeled messages: a puppy, sexy but don't know it, romantic dates, strong arms, meet them in a public place like a park, a market or a place with art or literature involved like museums or book stores, gift giving, a soft pink or white dress, night dates, overthinking, financial struggle, 999, 1333, virgo, scorpio, cancer and leo, might be seasons for you two meet or your person's sign.

Pile 2:

Who is your destined person?

(Cards: 9 of wands, 4 of swords, 7 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles, justice, death, world/ devil, justice, queen of pentacles, judgement, king of wands)

Okay, lets start saying that you know this person but never had anything romantic with them besides a crush for some of you, they are someone that is familiar to you, maybe you have talked at some point or is simplier than that and you follow them on social media or something that sort, you know eachother but there's almost any interaction between you two. I usually say on private readings when I see that the consultant know their person that Universe has a wicked sense of humor and sometimes, this person can be so random as your crush on primary school, someone you talked once in a party, a friend of a friend and those kind of things, so don't be dissapointed when you see that you know your person because many times, even though you know them, they can be the most random person you could ever imagine. Right now your person is going through some legal issues, it can be a divorce for some of you but for others it might be more related to an spiritual awakening where they are taking resposibility over things they have done in the past, like paying some karma and realizing why they are paying it. The good thing is that your person is closing a chapter, this awakening can be hard, because of the devil card, but it also will bring them a big relief and a change in their reality for the best, there's also a change in their way to face life. For what I see in the cards, your person is wealthy or well positioned in life, probably has a high position in their work field, for some they can work in something related to laws but is an enviroment with a lot of competition and stabs in the back, you have to be a little ruthless to thrive in that area, there's also a chance that they already have a child or kids near them, if you have children, your person will get along very well with your kid too. Your person has an strong temper, the good part of it is that they are very protective of what they love and don't mind getting into trouble if that means keeping their beloved ones safe. The not so good part is that they can be too impulsive and irrational when angry, their passionate spirit can take the best from them sometimes, they will be your total opposite so if you have a natural calmed and peaceful temper this pile is for you. Your person is someone brave, a natural extrovert with a lot of charisma, they can draw all the attention of a room to them just with an smile, they are also very sexy, physically they are extremely attractive, they could also be a Libra or Sagittarius sun sign. Your person hasn't been an angel in their past, even though they are a nice person with a good heart, it seems like they did ot take the best decitions in their past and now they are regreting some mistakes. They are really handsome and charming, I see they haven't faced rejection in their past and that has led them to be too confident, they are the kind of person who always gets what they want, do you know Dexter from the show One Day? your person reminds me of him in the good and the bad traits. Anyway, they recently had an experience that made them realize the path they were taking and they want a diferent direction, they don't feel fulfilled and knows that can get something better for themselves, they are also facing the consequences of their actions si they might need some extra time to get into your life.

Your connection:

(Cards: this could be the one, trust, children, worth waiting for/ talking, golden mirror, sword and rose, self indulgence, love call)

You'll share a very special bond, I see trust issues from both of you but at the moment you start something together those issues will fade, it's like your souls will recognize that you both are meant for eachother, feelings will bloom naturally. I see different scenarios for your pile so take what resonates with you, for the people who already know who this person is, the cards invite you to keep hopeful but patient, just trust the Universe and focus on your bussiness meanwhile your person puts their life in order and solve the issues they are currently dealing with, you deserve to enjoy their best version. For others of you who can't figure out yet who your person is, the cards have a similar meaning, to stay optimistic visualizing your ideal relationship, you'll have to wait a little more than the other piles because your person is dealing with issues they need to resolve before meeting you, again, you deserve to enjoy their best version, your vibration is very high so having your person right now in your life with their current circumstances could affect negatively your energy, so this wait is a divine protection for you. Things will start by flirting between both of you, maybe some casual dates at first but for what see in the cards, there's a lot of communication here and it makes sense because through communication trust gets reinforced and that's what you both need. You both will be very different but will have so much in common, your experiences in life or even your tastes or hobbies, your favorite artist or the kind of music you like, it will start by something simple but then you'll realize how similar you truly are, you will mirror eachother in every aspect, for some with an spiritual development I see this person is your twin flame. A nice thing a like about your person is that they will allow you to stay in your femenine energy, the card of self indulgence gives me the feeling that they'll provide for the things you like, just as an example, if you are into a saga of books but you don't have enough money to afford everyone of them so you go buy it one by one, your person will buy you all the saga so you can enjoy your hobbies. For some of you I even see that your person pays for your beauty treatments like getting your lashes or nails done. I see that they'll like to take a protective role with you, if you are easilly stressed, especially in regards of legal matters or burocracy, your person will take care of it so you don't have to worry, if you have any dream or goal you want to achieve your person will also provide you a safe space so you can develop it, especially for those of you who are into arts or something that involves creativity

Signals:

(Tea leafs: teapot, mule, wreath, shield, stork, wedge, heart)

Your signs to know when your person is about to enter your life will be a dissapointment with a friendship of your same sex, you might have an idea of who this person is because you have been seeing red flags from them in the past but you have turned a blind eye with them, especially in terms of stubborness and not wanting to change their habits. I'm getting that they are the kind to mourn and complain over things that they could easilly change, even you could have given them advices in the past but this person is unwilling to change for the better so you'll have to take them out of your life before your person comes. The tea leafs say that this won't be easy for you because you love and appreciate this person but by having them in your life you have to stay in a protective state, the shield warns you that you need to protect yourself from this person because they are consuming your energies. For your person, they'll be in a process of creating something new, I'm getting that it will be related to work, they'll be moving in silence because there's someone near them that don't want your person to be successful in this new project, anyway the project will thrive regardless of what other people try to mess with it. Your person will be just about to get their victory when they get in a deeper contact with you, they'll feel like things are getting better for them after everything they had to go through, you'll be like their ultimate victory. They'll know it's you because they'll feel safe by your side, having in mind that they are surrounded by snakes, getting in contact with you will feel for them like being in precence of angels.

Channeled messages: protect yourself from evil eye, black turmaline, long term relationship, karmic debts, late night conversations, a lot of sexual energy, love letters, release the old so the new can enter, the goddess Kali, law of attraction, subliminal audios, stay in your femenine energy, the bee and the flower, trust the process, 1111, 222, sagittarius, libra, scorpio

Pile 3:

Who is your destined person?

(Cards: queen of cups, king of pentacles, queen of pentacles, 3 of wands, fool, king of cups, 10 of pentacles/ ace of wands, 8 of pentacles rev, 5 of swords rev, judgement, emperor)

This person is your soulmate/twin flame, they are your divine counterpart so you will notice it from the very first moment you meet them. Getting into who your person is, they come from a wealthy background, their family seem to be very rich to say the least, they have been a pampered child all their life, in fact, if they work is because they want to not because they need to. Your person has been raised by parents that are soulmates so they know what true love is and knows that they want that type of connection for them too, they are a romantic and are not afraid to express it, they are also very well mannered so expect them to be chilvalrous with you, they are a true gentleman. They are so open to love that is overwhelming, they fantazise an daydream a lot about you, how you look, your way to walk and your smell, they have you so much in their head but they feel frustration not knowing who you are and when you will appear, they look for you everywhere they go and in every person they meet, yu cold even feel their energy calling you, if you have romantic dreams with someone but you can see their face clearly it is your person calling you in, you can intuitively feel them, I'm also getting that if you are able to see the face of someone familiar to you in dreams like a famous person just check that person you dream about because they might reselble the characteristics of your person. They have a melancholic soul, like a poet from another century, they are very deep and emotional, they have so much love inside they want to offer but they feel frustrated because they don't find the right person to share it with, they don't want only to share love they want someone to share all their life with, they feel like they already have it all to live a happy life but there's this missing peace of wanting to share all their abundance with someone else. There's this phrase of the movie 'into the wild' (my favourite movie ever <3) that says 'happiness is only real when it's shared', I feel that your person resonates a lot with this phrase, they have people they love around but they crave a romantic connection to create a family with, btw, they are really into marriage and family, they also like children and animals and they love your person too. Your person has a sensitive heart and the pain of their solitude has led them to get involved with people with superficial intentions or toxic behaviors, mostly because of your person's money, they had a relationship in the past that left them feeling empty and that's why now they are giving themselves time to be alone and with their family, I see they have siblings that are playing a major role into your person's emotional healing. Idk if you'll know about this book, it's called fallen hearts by V.C Andrews, it is part of the Casteel saga but the character that reminds me of your person appears on the second book, his name is Troy Tatterton, I suggest you to read it or let me know if you already know them :). I also see that your person has traveled a lot, for some of you, you could even live at distanced places where you'd had to travel to see eachother, it may be in one of your person's journeys where they finally meet you.

The connection:

(Cards: true love, getting to know eachother, playfulness, wedding/ casette, hammer, camera, separation, twin flames)

Oh goddess, this is so beautiful it makes me want to cry! If it was up to your person they would marry you as soon as they meet you, after all their painful journey, when you appear in their life they'll feel like the skies will open up only for them, they'll know it's you and will court you from the very first moment, they will be flirty but charming at the same time, I see you'll feel the same too. Even though that feelings will be intense at first, you both will make the effort to get to know eachother on deeper levels to check your chemistry and compatibility, everything will feel light and easy, you'll get along super well, they'll make you feel like you are in a safe place, if you are naturally introverted they'll make you feel protected and, in case you are an hyper independent person, you'll feel like you can finally relax and release some of the weight over your shoulders. At some point you'll have distance between you two but it won't separate you, I see you will make the best of every moment you spend together and, after a little time your person will offer you a seious commitment so you can start your life together as a couple, it might also be a soon engagement. I see that you'll be watching the pictures and videos you make together, especially if decide to travel, I see a fancy cabin near a forest where you are staying together to spend some alone time with nobody else there to bother you. The time you spend separated will play a major role for you two to decide that you want to be together forever, I see that your person will have a harder time being away from you, that's why they won't hesitate at the moment of offering you commitment, probably they give you a promise ring or tell you to get married, it will happen sooner than usual but both of you will feel certain about this relationship and what you want from it, you'll fit like puzle pieces and you'll both will understand why things didn't work with anybody else in the past.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: gong, key, shark, caterpillar, dagger, camel, unicorn, carriage)

For you, you'll be receiving good news about something you have done, it will be something exciting for you, a successful outcome for something you put a lot of effort in, you could even celebrate it with your close ones because this will make you very happy. There's a little warning for you about being responsible with your money but also I see you could loose something important like a jewel or something with big material value like a phone or something that sort, so if you suddently loose soemthing important take it as a sign that your person is about to enter your life. For your person I'd confirm what I said before about the trip, the carriage means a journey either be a mental or physical but I feel that it's a trip for vacation. This journey is because they have been through a period of worries and stress, they just have solved a problem before making this trip, this solution will involve some changes in their life that will align them with their highest good so, overcoming this obstacle will finally lead them to you, their most desired wish. They'll be taking a time to release all the tension they've been holding, it is surely oon holidays so check the calendar just in case, they'll be with more people in this journey, probably their siblings, your meeting will be something spontaneous, neither of you will be expetiing it

Channeled messages: Water sign, earth moon sign, family money, colors red and green, divine counterparts, white doves and sunflowers, many options in love, send you romantic phrases or pictures that reminds them of you, settle down, a midset change, aries season, 777, 1818

Pile 4:

Who is your destined person?:

(Cards: knight of wands, 10 of cups, moon, queen of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, knight of swords/ 7 of cups rev, 9 of swords, queen of pentacles, fool, empress)

Your person got the queen of pentacles repeated with two different tarot decks, this gives me the feeling that they feel plenty with the current direction of their life, with the 10 of cups I'd confirm that they feel happy and fulfilled and everything is working out for your person. Besides that luck is on their side naturally, your person has fought to be in the place they are right now, they are following their passion and vocation and being loyal to their heart has lead them to success and recognition, they are also very optimistic and knows how to see the good side of things at every situation. Your person reminds me of Eli from Boy swallows universe (please watch the show, it's awesome and you'll love Eli), your person is brave, independent and resourceful, even daring sometimes, they are loyal to their truth and their heart, in fact I see they can be a little obsessed with finding out the truth of things so they could even be into conspiracy theories or things that sort. Your person is a wanderer, a curious soul but with a grounded spirit, they can be wild sometimes but they know their own limits and knows when to stop, they are really down to earth and mature on the important matters but very lighthearted and spontaneus when the ocassion requires it. They have been through seriouus things in the past, they may have some unresolved heavy trauma they didn't gave themselves the chance to solve it so they might act reckless sometimes, but the good thing is that they have an strong moral compass and value system they keep loyal at every moment, betray their values would feel like betraying themselves and that's something they don't want to go through. Your person can be an unintentional heartbreaker, they don't want to hurt anybody's feelings but it's easy for people to catch feelings for your person, is something about their aura or their energy, they are so warm and gentle that everybody feels drawn to them and can't help but develop feelings for them, they are easy to be loved. Your person is really smart, they could be air dominant in their chart because they also seem like having a talent with words or being a great communicator, they are also very funny so expect to laugh a lot with them, they might be younger than you or it's simply that they have a youthful energy, whatever it is they have this childlike energy that makes them lovely. Your person has this golden retirever energy that everyone likes, they are also very friendly and seems to have it easy to create friendships with other people, their sense of humor is a plus on this aspect too, they are a sweetheart with a loving heart but they are also very hard working and commited to what they think is right, you'll feel super comfortable by their side, even though they could be younger they will give off very mature and reliable energy.

The connection:

(Cards: Keep an open mind, retreat, flirt, love yourself first, chemistry/ the sword and rose, girl talk, cupid's arrow, sunglasses, engagement ring)

Okay, at first they might not be your usual type or the kind of person you would be interested in, for some, your person could be younger than you and that could be a turn off for you. Your connection will bloom progressively by creating a friendship first, besides the fact that your person will be very into you from the very first moment, they'll prefer to respect your times and show you they are worthy of your love, they will feel like they are out of your league for some reason. You might run from them at a certain moment because you get confused with your emotions, especially for those of you reading this that are a water moon, you'll need some time to reflect on your emotions and realize that there's an inmense chemistry between you two, maybe this distance you take serves you as a reassurance of how drawn you feel to this person, they'll have a bad time with this retreat but for you will be very healing and enlightning. I see that there's a female or dominant femenine energy in your life you trust so much, that person is very reliable and wise, don't doubt to ask them for advice because she will bring you clarity about the situation, I'm glad to say that you have an amazing support system, count on that female friend when you need mental clarity because she will be very honest, for some of you this person could be a sister. During this separation you might think that your person is focused into their bussiness but they'll be into stalker mode (positively, of course), checking up on you, they might even ask someone close to you how you are doing just to know about you, they'll also be checking your social media to know about you, they won't do it in a creepy way, they'll feel the same pull to you but they have a harder time trying to contain their emotions, the good thing is that you seem to be very intuitive so you'll know when their energy is trying to approach you. They'll be so in love with you, it feels like they fell first but you'll fall harder after a while, you both are soulmates so, even though you'll try to fight your feelings, you can't help but fall for this person, and after you see how much they are willing to offer and their true esence you'll fall for them (I'm writting this at 15:15 on my clock in case it's a relevant number for you). They'll wear their heart on their sleeve, they'll be very protective of you and won't allow any disrispect to you, they can be cutthroating if anybody tries to mess with you, tey'll feel so honnoured by you focusing on them that they will try to make you the happiest person ever everyday of your life, they can't believe their luck by finding a person like you and receiving love from you, this connection will be an equal give and take, you both will do everything for the other to make them happy.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: dolphin, windchimes, fox, broken ring, bull, needle and thread, ant, table)

For you, you'll be in a very nice moment of your life when you are about to meet your person, you'll be receiving a big amount of money because of something you did in the past, like a material reward. This material abundance will give you a feeling of peace and relief, you have the chance to have some vacations or free time by yourself, I see you a little secretive about this, like you don't want anybody to ruin this good time, you may also be silent about the amount of money you receive. For your person, they'll be dettaching from someone or something, the broken ring is usually associated with romance but I feel it more related to bussiness so they might be changing their job for a healthiest enviroment (if you felt called to pile 1 I suggest you to check it), it seems like their current work field is forcing your person to sacrifice themselves and keeps them in a defensive position. They'll have to work hard but it will bring them stability and security.

Channeled messages: Acts of service, getting a pet together, a cat person, sleep problems, full moons affect their mood, white horses and moths, vivid dreams, sitcoms, a lot of laugh, mental fog, meditation, 1212, 444, taurus, gemini, aquarius

[millersfinest]

untethered² | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 8.2 k

series: chapter one, chapter two (you’re here!), chapter three

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie flirting/teasing each other, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf, the millers, r is a writer, horndog ellie, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is very jealous of cat, hella angst, rich!abby (one of r’s evil exes), emotional cheating (from ellie), repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut, some corny time period song drops.

note: okay, i tried to fit a lot of stuff into this but it was getting too long wink wink. i’ve introduced rich!abby, she’s literally a generational surgeon purr. when i was writing this i was listening to some early 00s music and burn from usher came on… that’s ellie’s anthem ya’ll (for cat) lmaooo. i may not post another chapter before the new year, soo happy early new years to my moots, readers and followers (pookies) <3

After spending an extra hour, or so, with Ellie in the kitchen—laughing under your hands, stuffing bread into your mouths; you set an alarm for 6am. The same time clock that sat on your bedside table from your youth. Surprisingly, it still worked—waking you up with that same traumatic sound it used to for school.

You efficiently got ready; as in, you put on hearty jeans, cowboy boots, and a throw-away sweater because you had an obligation to fill on the farm. Every time you came back home, it was habitual for you to resume the responsibilities you used to have when the farm was your primary residence.

Around 6:45, you met your parents downstairs to begin prepping and planning who was going to go where. There was usually only three of you, but as you hovered over the black coffee on the counter—in your favorite antique mug—the screen door pulled open to reveal a sleepy-looking Ellie Williams-Miller.

She had a thick, black headband pushing her hair back from her forehead, and a low bun. The whites of her eyes were a little irritated and low-hanging, like she was exhausted. “Mornin’, Ellie.” Tommy spoke, rasping slightly. You and Maria parroted him—you standing up straight, instead of leaning over the counter.

Ellie settled across from you, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as a comfort. She rarely ever knew where to put her hands. “Didn’t think you’d jump in so quick.” You commented, wrapping your hands around the warm coffee in your hands.

“The sooner the better.” She shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Is there any coffee left?”

Before your mother could leap to helping her out, you set down your mug. “‘Course there is. Hazelnut or Vanilla creamer?” You walk over to the pot, not forgetting to pull down a mug from the cabinet. It was offhanded, unintentional—but the ceramic mug you grabbed happened to be hers from the past. An off-white color with her initial on the front in maroon. Ellie used to come over so much, she had her own mug.

She was the first to notice, a blush blossoming on her freckled cheeks. “Hazelnut…”

Pouring the hot coffee a quarter of the way, you added the creamer and dropped a spoon inside to mix it. Ellie wasn’t the biggest fan of coffee, so it was more creamer than coffee. Behind you, your parents began explaining and refreshing the jobs they usually do in the morning. They plan to handle the cows, goats and shipments; while you and Ellie can handle the chickens, horses and garden. “Now, Bug, she’s gonna be taking over your job— so, instruct her well, please.”

“You got it, dude.” You curtly nodded, after making a cheesy Full House joke, sporting a thumbs up. The only person to chortle was Ellie, while her lips were still parted over the side of her mug.

Tommy and Maria put their hands in the middle, slapping on top of each other. “Lets break out—“

“Come on, dad, do we have to?” It was so natural for you to complain at his antics, calling him dad, that you didn’t realize who you were doing it in front of company until much later.

When you were a teenager, every morning your broke out like a team—because, basically, that’s what you were. Splitting to conquer more ground; it took teamwork. “Honey, we always break out.”

Ellie set her cup down, amused. “Don’t be such a negative Nancy, y/n.” She put her hand on top of theirs, raising her thick eyebrows. “Come on, break out.”

Rolling your eyes, you place your hand over her’s. “We’re the Miller’s on three.” You dragged, shaking your head. They all grinned around you like hyenas, and it amusingly pissed you off. One. Two. Three.

“We’re the Miller’s!” They exclaimed, along with yourself. Unable to remove the mirroring grin from your lips.

“All right, team. Let’s get to work.” Tommy asserted with a smile, drinking the rest of his coffee.

The four of you dispersed on the back porch. You scribbling on notebook paper to keep track of your duties. Ellie leaned her back against the railing, crossing her arms, with her eyes trained on your focused expression. “Okay… We’re starting off with the chicken’s— do you remember how?” You glance up, raising an eyebrow.

“Ehm,” She clears her throat, pushing off the railing. “Uhm, yeah, totally. We get the food, right? The pellets?”

“Yeah, and…” You put a hand on your hip, a teasing smirk on your lips.

She chews on her lip, averting her eyes. “Scoop it into troughs?” Ellie questioned, slowly, knowing she was incorrect. The young woman just wanted you to correct her.

“I’m afraid you’ve gotten yourself a bit mixed up, Els.” The nickname slipped from your lips sweetly, but unpredicted. You were both shocked and did a bad job of hiding it. Your lips opening and closing like a gaping fish; Ellie licking her lips, still rocking on her feet. But to be fair, you were friends before everything—it shouldn’t have been weird. “Sorry…”

“Why are you sorry? It’s my name…” Ellie shrugged.

“Let’s just get to the chicken coop.” You chuckle, hiding the nervousness by trotting off the porch. Her name was Ellie, not Els—people who were close to her called her that, and they weren’t close anymore. It was just an example of muscle memory, really.

Ellie tapped her hand against the wooden post, following in your footsteps. “Feels good to be back…” She mutters, walking with her hands behind her back.

“You’re always welcome here.” You respond, approaching the shed that held the chickens food and such. Your fingers worked at the metal latch, pushing open the door. It creaking loudly from the rusted hinges. “Help me fill the buckets?”

She nodded with tight lips, crouching down where you were in front of a large bag filled with their food. You dug for the scoop, frowning at the smell. Ellie had grabbed a bright orange bucket, placing it beside you. Her eyes watching you, intently. Taking in all of your movements while scooping the pellets into the bucket.

Feeling her eyes on you, it was easy to start conversation—transition from that pier of tension. “You looked pretty tired… I hope that wasn’t my fault.”

Ellie hummed, switching an empty bucket with the one you just filled, putting it to the side. “Oh, no, of course not. I had an idea for a sketch… So, stayed up and worked on that.”

You grinned, peering at her. “Hey, the farm’s already workin’, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She chortled, averting her eyes.

Now, that was a clean cut lie. Ellie was a very smart girl—quick on her feet; she always has been. As she stood in that woody kitchen, munching on microwaved biscuits and giggling with her childhood ex-girlfriend… She had realized a fundamental truth. Or, more so, she was considering it. Perhaps, it wasn’t the farm she needed to sponsor her creativity.

It was you. In all of your self-made, manufactured glory. All it took was a glance for her to blossom with ideas—you were her muse.

That’s why she was up all night. She had propped herself on a stool, while her girlfriend slept, and began sketching where the both of you stood—by the shed. Ellie had drawn, scribbled, and shaded until the charcoal pencil fell from her fingers. Forcing her to rest, and by that time it was four in the morning.

Not without covering her work with a sheet, though. Your features were etched onto the canvas, that was too precious and vulnerable. Intimate. Telling.

Pulling her from her obsessive thoughts, you spoke. “Ellie, the bucket.” You bunched your eyebrows, with a tone insinuating that you’ve asked her more than once.

“Shit, my bad.” She stood up, picking one of them up by the metal handle. When she lifted it, she realized that she should consider weight lifting as a hobby—it was heavy. But, you held it in your hands as if it weighed no more than ten pounds. Ellie wasn’t right; the traits of a country girl never left you.

You began to walk out of the shed, toward the chicken coop, which was only a few steps away. “You know, I can let you off the hook if you wanna go take a nap, or something. We have, like, five more days for me to show you the ropes.”

“Really, it’s fine. You know I get a little spacey sometimes.”

“Yeah, when there’s a lot on your mind.” You pointed out, arriving at the coop. Opening the gate, you walk to another, slightly shorter gate to release the chickens. “Your breakfast has arrived!”

You set the bucket on the ground, Ellie doing the same, and you began to scoop out the pellets onto the dirt. They clucked and hopped around, pecking at the small pieces of food littered around. “Is there a lot on your mind?”

She hesitated to answer, dumping the rest of the pellets onto the ground. “Little bit…”

“Well, let this be a release from whatever you’re thinkin’ about. Not a distraction, but a release— it’ll keep you focused.”

Instead of pressing for what was on her mind, you responded with more thoughtful words. The fact that the both of you allowed your closeness to disintegrate or untether; you didn’t have much of a place to inquire. Asking too many questions could lead to fighting—if she were anything how she used to be. And you didn’t want to pry, even though a part of you assumed her exhaustion had something to do with Cat.

Ellie hummed once more, with her hands on her hips, watching you scratch their little heads. “Horses are next, right?” She questioned, blinking at you as if she were in a daze.

You chortle. “Yep. Excited to see Shimmer and Tokyo, huh?” A grin spread across your lips as you approached the gate. You paused, gasping, before you turned back to the auburn-haired woman. “Fuck, I have a surprise for you— almost forgot!” Rushing to grab her hand, you pull her out of the chicken coop. Keeping a firm grip on her palm; Ellie’s lightly holding yours as you pulled her toward the horse barn, glancing at her hand being embraced. It was a little ways so, despite the cool, morning air, sweat beaded between your palms.

But, since she was so enamored by your excited spirit, she held on.

When you arrived, that’s when you released her hand, unlocking the latch. Before your opened the door, you turned toward her faux lax expression. “Shimmer is, now, a mother…” You began, pushing open the door. Ellie gasped, grinning wide like a child before an arcade. “To a beautiful foal Tommy named Sarah.” You introduced coming up on their division.

“Holy shit,” She cursed, still grinning ear to ear. Her white teeth sparkling against the rays of the morning sun that peaked through the wooden panels in the barn. Shimmer peaked her head over the gate once she saw Ellie—like she never forgot about her. Nobody had. “Congrats, Shimmer.” She ran her hand along her strong jaw; the horse nuzzling into her touch.

Her olive eyes peered down, noticing the much smaller foal. Her coat was the same color as her mothers, but her hair had a blonder touch. “Can I?” She looked over at you.

“You don’t have to ask— she’s your horse, too.” You waved your hand. “I’ll go ahead and grab their food.” Leaving them alone, you hear Ellie marveling at Sarah. Causing a chuckle to leave your lips. You pet the other horses—Tokyo, Hamlet, and Ophelia—on the way to the other end of the barn.

Packing the buckets with differing pellets and chaffs, you filled their troughs and opened up their gates. Saving Shimmer and Sarah for last.

You walked over, leaning against the open gate. Sarah had nestled between Ellie’s crossed legs as she sat in the hay. Leaning into her gentle caresses. “I’m assuming she’s named after Joel’s daughter?” She asked, looking up at you from the ground.

“You assumed right.” You nodded, pressing your lips into a line.

“Does Joel know?”

“Not yet. It was a surprise for both of you.” You told, taking the liberty to join her on the ground. “I’m sure Tommy’ll say somethin’ by the end of the day.” Your fingers nestle through her course blonde hair. She was only about a week old, and the softness of her hair was already leaving. A sigh falls from your lips, glancing up at your old friend. Her eyes were already trained on your features, intently. Like she was trying to remember the intricacies of your face. “You think he’ll like it? Naming Shimmer’s baby after her?”

Ellie blinked, running her tongue over hr lips. “Uh, yeah— I think he’ll love it.” She chuckled, boyishly. The side of her lips curling up, as her eyes cast back toward the happy foal. “He’d probably want pictures of her everyday…”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking the pictures…”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t.” She affirmed. “If I didn’t, he’d blow up my cell.”

You laughed, backing up against the wall, leaning your head back as you peered at her. “He would wouldn’t he?”

A pair of footsteps caught your attention, and for a moment you thought it was your parents. You prepared to get up, but a new face came around the corner. Her brown eyes were sleepy, and she still was dressed in her pajamas. Hay clinging to the hem of her plaid pajama pants. “I was told that I’d find you here…” She spoke, mostly to the auburn-haired woman beside you.

“Mornin’,” You smiled, awkwardly. Standing up from where you sat. Cat smiled at you, but her eyes quickly moved back to Ellie.

“Ellie, can we talk?” She softly asked, fiddling with her fingers.

From the ground, she sighed, unmoving. “I’m kind of busy… Can it wait?” Ellie lifted her eyebrows, squinting at her girlfriend because of the sun’s rays. Her olive eyes practically glowing as the sun reflected through them.

“No. It can’t wait.”

“I can step out…” You offered, placing a hand on Shimmer. “She’s missing out on some grazing time, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine.” “Thanks,” Both Ellie and Cat spoke, causing you to pause in your steps. You bunched your eyebrows at Ellie, making an expression that read: talk to her! Ignoring the pleas of her beautiful features, you pulled Shimmer from her space. Leaving the two to talk.

It was always about saving face for you—you didn’t want to give the wrong impression to Cat. It was obvious that she knew about your past; you hoped that she did. Maybe, in a possessive way—in a way of I know her more than you. Or, in a way of context. That was something you were still trying to figure out.

Either way, your feelings for Ellie was private; something you were battling, as if it were a disease. Because it was wrong to hold onto a fragment of a memory—loving someone who was taken. It was childish. Letting them talk was putting a leash on yourself. There was nothing like some good ol’ fashioned self control.

While you contemplated, watching the horses meander around, getting their fresh air—conversation happened in the barn. Around the innocent, nuzzling foal, Sarah. “I just wanted to let you know… That I’m not mad at you.” Cat spoke, genuinely, leaning against the wooden gate. Her voice was firm and far from soft. “You know how I can get easily overwhelmed—“

“Cat, overwhelmed? You got pissed with me because I was asking her questions. That’s it.” Ellie retorted, narrowing her eyes. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in fucking years. Do you expect me not to be interested in what she’s doing?”

“Okay, Ellie. My fucking bad!” She slapped her hands against her legs. “My bad for considering your history with each other— I’m being a jealous bitch. There. I said it for you.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “Can we just stop acting weird? I don’t wanna fight. Not here.”

Ellie allowed Sarah to stand, walking from her space to where her mother was. Around the corner, entertaining you, although your peeving ear was open to their conversation. Even though, you couldn’t hear much.

She stood up, dusting herself off. “I’d never call you a jealous bitch…” Ellie muttered, approaching her, settling her hands on her jaw. “You have nothing to worry about, kitty Cat.” She spoke like a wish, leaning into the place a chaste kiss on her lips. Cat had shut her eyes, not noticing the glance Ellie made out the open barn doors at you—the back of you. Just before her lips met hers. She tried to keep Ellie, moving her lips against hers, but she pulled away, swiftly. “I have to get back to work, all right. No hard feelings?”

She sighed, pouting. “None at all… See you later?” Cat wondered, letting her hands drift down to her belted hips.

“See you later.” She smiled, pulling away from her.

Cat left the barn, waving at you on her way out. “See you, y/n!” She waved, wiggling her fingers. Her voice was sweet, but for some reason you didn’t like how smooth your name came from her mouth. But, regardless, you smiled back.

Ellie emerged from the barn with her hands in her pockets. She stopped where you were, watching the horses—mainly Sarah. “How’d it go?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You remember Dina and Jesse, right?” She changed the subject.

You scrunched your eyebrows at the random question, peering over at her. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“They’re going to a bar later… The Tipsy Bison, If you wanna—“

“Oh, I don’t know.” You interrupt, shaking your head. Chewing on your bottom lip, keeping your eyes trained on the trotting horses. The moment the relationship between you and Ellie was severed; that severed whatever bond you had with them. Jesse tried to stay in contact passively—when MySpace came out, he friended you. However, Dina was nowhere to be found. She must’ve hated your guts, right?

“What? You don’t drink either?” She chuckled, covering her nervousness.

Pressing your lips together, you narrowed your eyes at her. “It’s been too long…” You shook your head. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” She drawled, like a youthful plea.

“This is peer pressuring. Did we not learn about this is school?” Your feet carried you away from the horses, toward the garden. She followed after you with a sickening grin.

You pulled out your checklist, checking off the box by chickens and horses—clicking your pen with a smirk on your face. “Peer pressure… Shmeer Shressher.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Ellie, I don’t know. I might have something to write for my editor— let me think about it.” You made up an excuse on the spot, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if you opened up your email to see several messages from Isa Raymond.

“Don’t tell me you’re a workaholic, too?”

“I’m not.”

“Kind of seems like it.” Ellie shrugged.

You hit her arm with the back of your hand. “Whatever, Ellie. Think what you want.” The both of you arrive at the greenhouse. It smells of fresh soil and misty air—fairly comforting. When you were younger, it was the second best part of the farm for you. The horse barn being the first, of course. “This part is the simplest; just make sure all the veggies and plants are watered accordingly.”

You pick up a gallon half-full tin watering can, handing it to her. She took it from you with both hands, fingers grazing, lightly. “Oh, shit— I wasn’t paying attention with the horses. What do you feed ‘em?” Ellis began to stroll down the aisles, watering the soil.

“No worries, it seemed important.” You shrugged, mentioning the conversation between her and Cat. “I’ll just show you on the way back. It’s pretty simple— woah, not too much!” You place a hand on her wrist. She was pouring too much water into one of the potted plants. Her eyes locked onto yours, opened wide. “Sorry, I should’ve said this before… The potted plants need less water than the veggies.” She kept looking at you, the ends of her lips curling. “Carry on,” You urged, walking past her—in front of her, holding your own hands in front of you.

She couldn’t help but watch you go—hell, that’s all she’s been doing since she saw you. Watching. There was nothing wrong with that. Even if her eyes drifted to the way your hips were hugged in the jeans your wore. The sliver of skin that exposed when you bent down, or crouched, or even swayed your hips.

“So…” Ellie began, heading to your word and carefully watering. “Are you seeing anyone in Manhattan?” She asked, shamelessly with a perked eyebrow.

You pivoted, leaning your back against one of the aisles of vegetation. “Off and on…” Shrugging, you surprised yourself with how quickly you responded. “Dating in New York is like setting yourself on fire… And I don’t like getting burned.” You pursed your lips, flickering your eyes from her and the tomato’s. “Why? Is there someone you’d wanna set me up with—? I could use the help.” You joke, beginning to fiddle with the waxy leaves.

She snickered, approaching you with the tin watering can. Pouring nutrient liquid onto the carrot sprouts. “Dina, maybe?”

“Awe, you’re so funny.” You clap your hands together, sarcastically, leaning your chin on your hand.

“If you come out tonight, you can see just how funny I am.” She set the can down.

“I don’t have to go to a bar to see how funny you are. I’m laughing right now, aren’t I?” You mock a fake laugh, pointing at your mouth. Ha Ha. Ha Ha.

Wrapping your hands around the handle of the watering can, you pulled it from her to take over her job. “Just come, y/n! Wouldn’t it be nice to get the gang back together?”

A scoff fell from your lips. “It’s been a while since the gang was together, Ellie.” Occupying your attention with plants you watering. You fought to fight the frown attempting to grow on your lips, pressing them together and turning your body enough for her not to notice.

Ellie dragged her feet, following you. “It’s been eight years…”

Sighing, you slightly slam the can down, not enough to make a fuss but enough to signal your irritation. “Have you forgotten about what happened eight years ago?” You questioned, sternly.

She paused, inhaling, sharply. Ellie scratched her jaw, nodding her head. “Nope.” While she was taken aback by your sudden sternness; there was something that excited her about that pinched look on your face. The auburn-haired young woman has grown a lot since her youth.

“Okay, then.” You pouted. “Let’s just wrap this up, so we can reconvene with my parents— make sure all this stuff is done.”

And that’s exactly what the both of you did. The jokes and silly conversation ceased, and you basically finished in awkward silence. On the way back to the house, you showed her which foods to give to which horse, clinically. That playful look on your face was replaced with the one that exposed your unnerved feeling—from the horrifying mention of what happened eight years ago.

At the front porch, the pair of you separated. She waved a fiddly hand, peering over her shoulder as she walked back to the guesthouse. With a pair of shoulders that were slumped lower than they were from the morning.

Ellie didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—she should’ve never pushed you to hang out with her later. Perhaps, she got too comfortable too fast; but that’s just the type of person you were. Easily acclimatizing. It didn’t matter how much space could be between you and another person—you always found a way with making them feel at home. However, when you pull back, it’s a cold feeling. She just wanted to look at you some more, talk to you some more; be around you some more. Ellie couldn’t deny how refreshing it was.

You met with your parents assuring them that everything was done. They asked about Ellie, but you said she took all the information fine. She’ll probably just need a few days to really lock it in—but, you couldn’t stay long to chat. It was about nine in the morning, and you had to check your email and cell for messages.

First, you showered to get the smell of animal off of you. As much as you loved them, the stench was awful and you’d rather die than let it get stuck to the comforter of your bed. Then, you hopped onto your reading nook, and began going through your emails.

Scroll, scroll, Isa Raymond. Scroll, scroll, Frank St. James… Frank St. James—that was your editor! “Fuck,” You swore under your breath, clicking the bolded words, your heart grew nervous. What if he didn’t like it? You always took criticism much harder when writing the essay’s for your book because everything comes from your experience—your spirit.

Your eyes panned over the words, seeing nothing but: phenomenal, and powerful, and effective, and most importantly, this will be the perfect addition to your bigger work. “Fuck, yeah!” You shouted, pumping your fist in the air.

A head peaked through your door, dark brown hair crowded with grays, and aged brown eyes. “Are we celebrating somethin’?”

Looking up, you smile at Joel, pushing your laptop to the side. “Yeah, actually. One of my chapters got approved by my editor.” You sighed, happily.

“Looks like that book really is comin’ along…” Joel hummed, sporting a proud look on his face. “Good thing Ellie and I made some breakfast— hot and ready! Do your parents have any champagne, so we can celebrate with some mimosa’s?”

Standing to your feet, you waved a hand. “It’s not that serious, Joel.” You chuckle, letting your hands rest on your hips.

“You think mimosa’s are serious? Whew, you need to come back home more often.” He joked, leaning on the threshold of your door.

Rolling your eyes, playfully, a chuckle leaves your throat. He was always so supportive. For a moment you though you lost the opportunity to see that side of him a long time ago. “There might be some in the fridge… And some cranberry juice.” He nodded, pumping his fist—him and Ellie were so much alike. “Give me, like, five minutes and I’ll be down. I have to respond to some messages.”

“Of course, workin’ girl. But don’t let your mimosa get warm… Or your food get cold— we worked hard on it.”

“I won’t.” You smiled, watching him leave your door. Quickly, you pulled out your cell, checking your messages. Some complaining messages from Sierra, Isa Raymond complimenting you—which she didn’t do often—and, a message from a past love interest, Abby Anderson.

Abs: I’m gonna be in your hometown for a few days, seeing some friends. We’re going to a bar later, you should come!

You hesitate to respond, but you do.

You: Oh, nice! Which bar?

There weren’t many bars where you came from, it was fairly small. But, you were getting an inkling that it was the same bar Ellie had invited you to—the Tipsy Bison.

Abs: Tipsy Bison, I believe.

You: I’m totally in. Could definitely use a drink right now.

Abs: Want me to come by and pick you up? I drove the Jaguar ;)

You: As tempting as that sounds, I already have a ride. See you then, Abby.

You slapped your phone shut to meander downstairs to the breakfast that awaited you. On a hot plate, made by Joel and Ellie themselves—which, typically, was delicious. They were both wonderful cooks.

Stepping down the stairs, you heard a sound come from your silver cell. You flipped it open with a sigh, seeing Abs highlighted by a green line.

Abs: Oh, damn… Abby. We’re not on nickname basis anymore?

You pursed your lips, shaking your head as you reached the bottom step.

You: Be normal about this, because I could’ve said no.

Shutting your phone, you slid them into the pocket of your pajama shorts. To purposefully ignore the rest of her texts until later. Everyone was still building their plates, walking to the dining table—including Cat, dressed in jeans and band t-shirt. Muse. “Joel, where’s the mimosa’s?” You arrived in the kitchen; Tommy hand you a ceramic plate was already plated with food.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“Bug, the champagne in there has lost its bubbles— there’s no point.” He then grinned. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna congratulate you for the chapter approval!” Your father clapped his hands, causing the others to join in—Maria, Joel, Cat, and Ellie.

You kiss his cheek. “Thanks, dad.” A blush frosts over your cheeks—face heating up like a furnace. “I hope we can get some by tomorrow. Thanksgiving is in two days.”

“I’m actually running downtown for a work thing…” Cat began, setting her plate at the dining table, preparing to sit. “I could grab some on the way back.”

“That’ll be perfect, Cat!” Maria exclaimed, smiling, brightly.

Why the fuck was she so nice? You almost wanted to mock your mother—even though they all just celebrated you a moment ago. Of course she’d offer to get the champagne. “Thanks, Cat.” You gave a toothless smile. A smile that plastered and could easily be noticed as fake by those around you. When you heard a snicker come from Ellie’s mouth, you knew that she noticed.

You shot her a glare, but that only made her lips spread into a wider smile. Toothy. Trying. As she settled into her chair, fork in hand.

Conversation over breakfast was light, and lovely. Slight jokes were made about Ellie’s farming skills, but nothing too much. You interacted with each other by mainly through looks and offhanded comments—enough for your mom to take notice. Nudging you under the table with her leg, but you gave her no mind.

After breakfast, you offered to clean up. And, of course, so did Ellie. You argued for a bit on who was going to wash the dishes, and who was going to dry them—settling on you washing and her drying. Cat took a taxi to wherever she needed to go, kissing the auburn-haired woman on the way out. Maria, Tommy and Joel settling in the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a wall, catching up on sports. Your mother was oddly into that kind of stuff. Leaving you and Ellie all to yourselves, once more.

“Thanks, Cat. You’re so full of it.”

You handed her a wet, clean dish, rolling your eyes. “You have no idea what I’m full of.” A scoff falls from your lips, slightly curling at the ends. It’s not like you were upset, you were amused—you found her amusing. There was time between the scuffle from earlier and now; plus, you had a bit of a distraction for later.

You lathered the plate, running it under the hot water to rinse it off. “Your poker face is the absolute worst. Some things just never change— be okay with that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Some things never change. You’re still so fucking annoying.”

“And, I remember you also saying… Corny?”

You drop your hands in the sink, running your tongue over your bottom lip. Frankly, you missed this so bad. Meeting her eyes was like the tide rising on a beach—it always happened in way that was intertwining and overcoming. This was how Ellie Williams flirted; she was incredibly insufferable! Her voice dropped an octave, becoming a bit raspier than it already was. You were familiar because, well, she used to be yours. And, like she said, some things never change.

The only way you could respond was by peering at her. Inspecting her. Handing over the wet dish without sparing a glance at the ceramic plate. You watched as she primed her lips to speak. “All jokes aside…” She began, wiping down the plate with a turquoise towel. “I wanna apologize for the pressure earlier— coming out with me.” Finishing up, she set the dishes on the rack, leaning her lower back against the counter. Her arms crossed over her chest, the tattoo on her forearm coming into view—something you didn’t fully notice before. “I totally get the hesitation. Dina can be a… Handful at times.”

“About that…” You dried your hands, wiping the water off the counter. “I’ve actually decided to go. I could use some hometown socializing— and Jesse’s still pretty sweet.”

Her earthy eyes sized you up, squinting her eyes. “Oh, is that who you want me to set you up with?”

“Seriously, Ellie, keep your day job.” You rolled your eyes, fixing everything around the kitchen so it could look clean. “We kind of keep in touch on MySpace.”

She gasped, deepening her eyebrows. “MySpace! I don’t even have you on MySpace—! I’m friends with Jesse, I would’ve seen this.”

“Well, my username isn’t quite my name… It’s BugsWritersRoom, and my icon is a picture of a latte— I can understand the confusion.” You shrug, nonchalantly.

Ellie subtly clenched her jaw at the idea of Jesse keeping something like this from her. It was fucked up to keep her from BugsWritersRoom—Ellie needed to be in on that. Whether she was going to friend you or not. “I’m about to start writing a bit… What’s you username, so I can stalk ‘ya?” The tone of your voice insinuated that it was a joke, but you weren’t joking at all. However, it wasn’t that you couldn’t find her before; you just didn’t want to. Twenty-four hours ago you were keen on keeping your distance—that also meant watching her online.

But, since the rekindling of this stomped out fire, you might as well catch up. And she was planning to do the same.

“StarlighterWilliams…” She muttered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but wonder how she could shape shift from a semi-confident joker, to a bashful blusher within a few minutes—Ellie was one of a kind, certainly.

You hummed, lips curling at the sides. “Still a Savage Starlight fan, huh?”

“Yup.”

“At least all those comics and merch I bought for you didn’t go to waste.” You glance at the tall grandfather clock against the wall, huffing. Before you went out tonight, you wanted to get some words out of your head—there was plenty of time, as it was only nearing one in the afternoon. But you wanted some alone time, too.

She wanted to respond with how she’d never toss the items you bought for her—something cheesy like that—but, you spoke before her. “I guess the next time I’ll see you, I won’t be in old-as-shit pajamas. What are you thinkin’—? 9:30?”

“Yeah, 9:30s fine…” Her eyes ran over your frame. The tight strappy top that clung to your adult figure, and the loose satin shorts that hung low on your hips. A water stain had grown on the middle of your stomach from washing the dishes, and because the shirt was white your skin peeked through. If only it was a little higher—

“Cool. See you later.” You walked around the island, toward your parents and Joel. “If you guys need anything, I’ll be upstairs working. Just call me.” Ellie watched as you bent down to kiss their temples, including Joel from an old habit. She watched you laugh if off, but your pace quickened toward the stairs. Your eyes flickered to hers, a causal finger pointing in her direction. “That goes for you, too.” You winked.

It was like everything was in slow motion as she watched you. Especially, that fucking wink! Yeah, Ellie understood that wink was probably for weed—it couldn’t have been anything else. “I’m getting myself into some deep trouble.” She spoke under her breath, hanging her head low.

“Hey, guys!” She spoke to the three Miller’s on the couch, stalking toward the front. “I’ll be at the guesthouse.” She waved a few fingers, with her mind occupied completely elsewhere. In the gutter, as many called it.

Joel turned around, leaning his arm against the back of the couch. “You don’t wanna see the bets for the thanksgiving game?”

Ellie didn’t even pause at the door, she responded while walking through. “Absolutely the fuck not. You kids have fun, though!”

She basically ran to the guesthouse, leaning her back against the door once she was inside. In short, she was horny. Oh, so horny—Ellie was without a muse in many different parts of her life currently. And, don’t get her wrong; her girlfriend was smoking hot, but she wasn’t you! She couldn’t be happier that Cat was out of the house. So, she could lay her back against the bed they shared, with her pants off and her hand between her legs. Mind trailing with images of you.

Meanwhile, you sat crisscrossed on your made-up bed, searching for Ellie. StarlightWilliams, she said. You clicked and scrolled until you saw her user icon. It was a picture of her playing guitar. Her short side-bangs covered her face, arms draped over the guitar she’s had for years. At least, it looked like that one that you were familiar with. The one you carved your initials into the back when you were sixteen. Somebody had taken the picture, and you hoped to God it wasn’t Cat. That was your first thought.

You were beginning to make peace with the fact that you were an asshole. Your parents raised an asshole who’s jealousy raged in a passive manner.

With hesitation, you clicked the her name. Her account popped up and was coded to absolute hell. Did she do all of this herself? The side panels had a bunch of Savage Starlight png’s floating around. And, there was a silly picture in her bio of Kenny from South Park—of course, she liked South Park.

Her mood was recently updated: Conflicted.

Her bio was very concise: i’m ellie :3. Which is then preceded by a couple music videos: Hella Good by No Doubt and Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.

You found yourself smiling as you scrolled down her profile, causing you to click the friend button without a second thought. Skipping over the photos of her and Cat, which wasn’t that hard to do—considering there wasn’t many. There were photos of Ellie cuddled between Jesse and Dina, looking happier than ever. Some mirror photos taken with a camera in her bathroom. Her hair mussed and choppily cut, but nonetheless, she looked good. Small nerdy shirts and low-hanging jeans, accessorized with studded belts and carabiners.

Hot.

Breaking you from what felt like a spell, your roommate began ringing your cell. She caused you to shut your laptop, and roll all over your bed talking to her. You paced around your room, playing with little knickknacks, glancing out your window to see the view of the guesthouse.

Sierra demanded to know the details about being around your teenagehood ex-girlfriend, and you told her enough. Not the intrusive thoughts about being a homewrecker, but how easily they got along. How the past had only come up once, but not in the way you thought it would. You bickered and joked and teased like nothing happened.

Now, your roommate back in Manhattan, laughed at that. She claimed that she had psychic tendencies, saying: you guys are gonna fuck nasty! You refused, feigning sounds of disgust. That wasn’t the case—that could never be the case. To change the subject, you mentioned Abby being in town, and she grimaced on the other line.

It was girl talk like no other.

After the call, you decided to quit daydreaming over Ellie’s MySpace account and actually start writing.

The next chapter you were working on was following moments after the breakup—the sorry attempts at moving on, college, moving from home.

You spent hours outlining and rough drafting, cursing at yourself because nothing was coming out right. Sooner or later, eight o’clock came around—meaning it was time for you to get ready.

Sifting through your luggage, you threw clothes over your shoulder trying to piece together an outfit. You wanted to look good, but you didn’t want to appear like you were trying too hard. Abby was gonna be there, so you couldn’t slack. And, Ellie hasn’t seen you in anything other than comfortable clothes since you reconnected.

Jeans were your safety, and a black jean vest you were going to put over a white v-neck—not forgetting the leather jacket to cover your arms and a pair of boot heels to give you some height.

You were ready by 9:15, adding perfume to the pressure points on your body. Dressing your lips in a sparkling lipgloss that complimented your skin. With a baggy purse on your shoulder, you clicked your finger on the buttons in your phone, descending the staircase.

Abs: Always so feisty, babe. See you later.

Seeing her message from earlier, you puff a frustrated breath from your lips. Babe. God, that woman needed to pipe it down—it’s like she knew you were gonna give it up, or something. That was actually something you were still unsure about.

When you appeared in the living room, your heels alerted your family to your presence. Ellie leaned against the couch, coolly, swinging her keys around her finger. She wore low-hanging jeans, a plain top with a striped long-sleeve under it with a thick jacket layered on top—probably Joel’s. “You ready to go?” You raised your eyebrows, chewing on your bottom lip—nerves wracking through you.

Either because of Ellie’s soft eyes on you, or the anticipation of seeing Abby. It was hard to tell.

“Uh, y-yeah… Yeah, let’s go.” She stammered, standing to her feet.

Maria sipped on a glass of wine, eyeing your clothes. “You look cute, Bug— for any reason in particular?” She raised a blonde eyebrow.

“Mom, I’m going to a bar… Why wouldn’t I look cute?”

“She’s a single woman in her twenties, Maria—“

“Let’s not.” You wave your hand, cutting Tommy off. “Ellie,” You spoke, subtly pleading.

She nodded, catching the keys in her hand. “All right, we’re going.” Ellie opened the door for you, allowing you to push toward the screen door—the one you held for her.

“Be safe!”

“Of course!” The both of you responded, glancing at each other with semi-stern eyes.

Heels clicking on the porch, you walk down the steps into the gravel. “Where’s Cat? Is she not going out with us?”

Ellie unlocked her truck, clicking the button on the remote in her hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know…”She snickered, peering at you, unable to hide the glimmer in eyes from taking in your appearance. “Her work thing took longer than she thought. She didn’t feel like comin’ out.”

Yes!

“Ah,” You responded instead of jumping up and down, cheering. Getting into the car was a lift, hopping into the passenger seat.

Her copper truck had aged, but had that same old feel to it. Feeling the stitched seats, shamelessly, brought you back to when you were younger—sitting in her truck those first few times. It was kind of claustrophobic and intimidating being this tightly bound to Ellie.

She was less tense, shutting the door behind her. Ellie put the keys in the ignition, starting the car and turning on the radio. Blink-182, I Miss You, played low—the silence between the two of you speaking up. She scoffed under her breath, switching the radio to another station. “Too slow,” The auburn-haired woman muttered.

“I liked that song, though…” You look at her from the corner of your eye.

Hesitantly, she glanced at you, reached her hand back to the number to switch the station back to the alternative one playing Blink-182. Ellie pressed her lips into a line, putting the truck into drive.

The trip was no longer than ten minutes to the Tipsy Bison. A trip filled with radio music and glances back and forth. To occupy yourself, you played Tetris on your cell until you felt the truck slowing down in the parking lot. When she shut the car off, that’s when your nerves really picked up.

“They should already be inside.” Ellie pointed out. She inspected you the passenger seat, rigid shoulders and a clenching jaw. “You look good— great, even. It might be a little awkward, but—“

“How about this…” You run your tongue over your bottom lip, tasting the strawberry flavored gloss on your lips. “You go on ahead inside— I’ll meet you.” Pulling the handle, you hop out the truck. Your fingers rustle through your purse for the yellow pack of American Spirits and your lighter.

Ellie bunched her thick eyebrows, following you out the car. Locking the doors behind her. “What?”

“I can’t smoke inside… So, go ahead.” You popped out a cigarette, placing it between your lips.

“You sure? I feel like it’ll be easier if we walk in together.” She furrowed her eyebrows, seeing the uncomfortableness written all over your face.

“I’m sure, Ellie. Just go.” You avert your eyes, lighting the tip of the nicotine stick. Waiting for that first inhale to calm your nerves.

She stuffed her hand into her pockets, nodding her head. “I will see you inside, right?” Ellie questioned, fearing that you’d run off. Your only response was a released of smoke from your lips, and a pair of narrowed eyes. “Fuck,” She cursed. “Fine. See you inside.”

Ellie disappeared into the bar. You kicked a leg up against the wall, tapping the ash from your cigarette. Who knew what the feelings of one person could do. In your head, you played through every possible outcome of the situation—seeing Dina again. She could either be really sweet, like she used to be, or still be that grudging person that you familiarized yourself after that day.

The high beams of a shiny, black Jaguar came into your sights—blinding you. You hold up your hand, covering your eyes with arched lips. They were so bright, you didn’t realize who they belonged to until she got out. The blonde wore all black in the sleekest way possible—letting everyone know in this town that she was better than them. That was just the aura she had.

Her long blonde hair was pushed behind her ears and shifted against her black leather jacket. The high beams blinked off, as she approached you, pushing up a a pair of black sunglasses over her head.

“It’s dark out. How do you even drive with those things on?” You raise a skeptical eye, taking a drag from the cigarette between your index and middle finger.

“A hi or hello would be a preferred greeting.” Abby teased, lips spreading into a movie-star smile.

Pressing your lips into a line, ashing the rest of the cigarette out on the wall. “Hi, Abby.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder, really. Her strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into her chest. It was firm, but most importantly, warm and comforting. Your arms stretched around her back, nuzzling more into her embrace.

“I hope the cigarette’s the only reason why you’re standing out in the cold.” She pulled back just enough, to keep your bodies pressed together and to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You purse your lips.

Abby’s hand massaged your tensed shoulders. “Then, let’s get inside. Let me get you a drink to warm you up.”

Ellie already had a drink in hand, and a water for you, unsure of what you wanted. Jesse and Dina had visited her many times in New York—this wasn’t a rekindling. It was just a couple of friends meeting for some beers and a few laughs. Her olive eyes kept glancing at the door waiting for you to come through in all of your glory. And, you were being timed. If you didn’t push through those doors within the next ten minutes, she was going to come out and drag you inside.

As she were about to tell them that she was going to get you, threatening Dina to be nice, you walked in. But you weren’t alone. A tall, muscular blonde had her arm around your shoulders, pulling your tight to her side. And, fucking hell, she looked so much cooler than Ellie did.

She watched as her blue eyes danced around the bar, looking for someone. They widened, and a smile spread on her lips. Hand raising to the ceiling to wave at her friends occupying a booth behind Ellie, Jessie, Dina. “Who the fuck is that?” She spoke, arching her lip in disgust—which wasn’t entirely purposely.

You noticed Ellie, standing from the table she sat at. Waving your fingers, you gave a small smile. Until your eyes landed on an obsidian-haired young woman, with a resting bitch face worse than your own. Dina was leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. You allowed Abby to guide you to the bar, ordering your usual—a double vodka cranberry.

Something about this night was going to be very, very long. Good thing Cat didn’t come out.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt

[complete-clownery]

Hahaha okay rant about this amazing fanfic (you probably heard of this one already but still)

So whenever it comes to explaining and writing under my posts I just get lazy but I need to push through this cuz I need to talk

So the fanarts were made for the lmk fanfiction sunbreak, that a lot of you (probably mostly shadowpeach shippers) had read, and it is amazing, I read trough it as fast as my brain let me and as you can see it has pleasantly scratched my brain so much so that I even (attempted) to make fanart for it

Ngl if I wasn't a major pussy I would try to illustrate the whole thing or make covers for each chapter but Im unable to work on something more than 2 hours and I would want those to look good, but good looking art (if I don't mess up) takes 6 hours ughh--- annoying much---

Anyways I'm not good with literature but man is this fix a masterpiece *chefs kiss* its everything its amazing, I was unable to put it down once I started it

Okay i dont think I have the brain capacity to explain how much I worship the writer of this masterpiece @ladygreenfrisbee , so i'm just going to talk about the drawings a tad

So first picture with Red Son and MK its sort of like an au in the fic where the whole lbd plot is somehow nonexistent and after Macaque gets to his sisters domain they settle down and raise the kids together without much of an issue aside from assassinations keep happening and trying not to get in trouble with the heavens

Id like to think that Gongzhu still wouldn't let the court tailors to put any form of red or gold on MKs outfits and only allowed the yellow after when MK was old enough to declare that yellow was his favorite color, but even now she would insist on some form of purple and shadow motives to let others know who the mother is

We also got baby MK and toddler Red Son and sassy LIF and Mac

Third pic with the lion: I don't know what it was or why but I just love general Song so much--- he's a major dickhead but sgvshshsevkdididhr (actually I kinda love all the original characters in this one, from the generals to the old lady in the beginning of the book, (gosh I also wanna draw some scenes from those chapters I loved how Mac and she interacted hshsjsj))

so chapter 34 was probably my favorite so far I re read it about two more times cuz it was amazing to see Macaque being the schemer he is and try to piss of Song lol

Last picture: its a sketch/a wip or whatever (probably not going to finish it but im still putting it there cuz its somewhat decent looking)

Its the part where Wukong remembered of Macaque finally finding him and asking for him to come back to flower fruit mountain.

I tried to make Macaque look more unhinged on this one but since I didn't finish it I dont think its that noticable so fuck that but I also gave him a halo like the saints to symbolise his suffering and what not (thought it looked cool and fitting think whatever you want about it lol)

And that all ((((hollly mother))))

If you read this trough, thank you and congrats👏👏

[unhappy-sometimes]

a 2024 reading retrospective

so. i read a lot of fics in 2024. here are some of my favorites.

before i get started, please note that these are not in any particular order and these are not all of my favorites!!!!!!!! i wanted to include so many more but i just wasn't able to! also please don't roast me for reading stuff from more than two years ago :(((

anyway, here we go!!

1. Air by Cantare

as always, @cantareincminor knocks it out of the park. i'm a sucker for alternate first meeting AUs and Air is one of the good ones!! i find that it can be hard to find authentic sounding banter between yor and twilight, but cantare manages it somehow! they have such great and natural sounding dialogue. it's just a one chapter fic, but maybe if we ask nicely enough, cantare will continue one day 😏

2. like the wild geese by anonymous_viscacha

okay in all honesty, i read this for the first time last week and i scrambled to add this one to the list. it's a short one shot about a shared lunch break between yor and loid, but it's so sweet and endearing that i just had to put it on. i love love love it when people let loid and yor catch up on the childhood they lost because they deserve it. i'm kinda obsessed with this fic right now.

3. what happens outside by aerequets

it's kinda unfair that @aerequets gets to be a great artist and author but here we are. i'm not complaining tho because what happens outside is a delightful read. i enjoy exploring post reveal pre relationship twiyor and this fic is perfect for that!! it's also just really cute and reading things from yor's perspective is super endearing.

4. chaos theory by sarsaparillia

so ngl this one scared me at first because i do NOT like major character death fics and this one really seems like it, but this fic was unexpectedly wholesome and has a happy ending!!! it's short but bittersweet so i can't really talk about it without spoiling it any more. go read it! it's short!

5. eventually i fall into you, you attack my heart by princessguard

i know this is a controversial (and somewhat ironic) take but i usually really don't like eden AUs but. this fic is proof that there are always exceptions to the rule. this one is a short little story about a serious student at eden and the weird girl he keeps meeting in trees. i don't know exactly why i love this one so much but it do. it's cute and the epilogue got me grinning like a fool.

6. like real people do by Puolain

once again another alternative meeting AU. i dunno, man, it's just so much fun to see twilight and yor having the chance to be real people and accidentally fall in love which each other. i eat that up every time. great work @loveroma!

7. I'll Be There in a Minute, Dear by fluffmelange

i was SO CLOSE to putting fluffmelange's "Leave No Trace of Yourself" here because that one is SO FUNNY but alas, this delightful fic barely won out in the end. you know what you should do? read both. fluffmelange is keeping us all fed with short and sweet fics that are so much fun to read. this one is a favorite simply because the premise is so goofy and simple but i could 100% see it being canon lol. we are in your capable hands @fluffmelange.

8. I've Been Throwing Bricks At Your Window Like There's No Better Way To Say Hello by thesmallestfishinthesea

this fic has such a silly and simply premise but i love it so so so much. it's about the three times yor forgets her keys (plus one extra time loid forgets!!!!) and it's so cute to have a view inside yor's (often frazzled) mind. i don't know what else to say other than READ IT RIGHT NOW!!! great work @smallest-fish-inthesea!

this is not all!! i really wanted to include the wonderful works of @whateversawesome, @briefhottubcoffee, @spencer-is-alive, luinel, and more (ao3 literally went out just as i was typing this UGH what awful timing) but i wanted to do something to give back to this awesome community. fun fact, today is my birthday and there's a tradition in my family where the birthday person gives presents to others. so this is my present to everyone!! thanks for everything you guys and here's to another great year!

oh oh oh one last thing, i tried to link everyone's tumblr if they have one, so if there's an author on here who has a tumblr that i didn't link, let me know and i'll link them.

okay! thanks everyone!

(ALSO DON'T MAKE FUN OF HOW DIFFERENT SOME OF THE DRAWING STYLES LOOK IN SOME OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS, I WAS EXPERIMENTING WITH DIFFERENT TECHNIQUES AND THEY LOOK STUPID ALL PUT TOGETHER LEAVE ME ALONE😭😭😭😭😭😭)

[zorosnavigator]

Timebomb fics rec

A lot of timebomb fics are hiding through a lot of CaitVi/JayVik tagged works on ao3 (while many are also CV orJV centric) so i made this rec post for everyone who dont want to spent 1 hour scrolling or missing some of them bc you're filtering other ships!! (sorry for the short summaries/ i didnt write my thoughts as thoughtfully as i would have liked because.yk.time and all. update chapter count/add of new fics every week)

AU/crossovers fics

Je t'aime (Je t'attends) 3 chapter, WIP.

Hunger games x Timebomb/Arcane, the way the system of the games from the og novels are mixed in the Arcane universe is really masterful, the writer dont lose too much time explaining it but you understand the dynamics of the 2 cities and the characters perfectly anyway.

Where would you be now ? by enaven 5/6 chapters, WIP.

family/modern AU, timebomb feels, Ekko and Jinx are Isha's parents, CaitVi are just silly aunts and i'll never stop recommending this fic

you're the best thing to ever happen to me (but also the worst thing to ever happen to me) by grey_toiletpaper ( @greytoiletpaper ) 3/8 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Timebomb inspired by 10 things i hate about you.

We Moved Into a Real House (a Wild Field Behind it) by smokesatellite 3/10 chapters. WIP. Rated T.

Modern AU, Timebomb roommates/friends to lovers, Isha is a foster kid...you know where this is going .. (Ekko as a nurse is not something i expected but its surprisingly good. Also the in law feud between Jinx and Cait is very funny)

s1 fics

Silco is less of an asshole

The Heart of Zaun by 1ts_Br1tney_B1tch 8/ chapters. WIP.

or: Silco try to rally the Firelights to his cause (in this case, Zaun - he's much more involved in doing better for his city than in the show) but of course they're bound to have some..tension between them, since they hate him - and Shimmer. (it has the good parent Silco tag so i'd say that all in all, this Silco is a little less...Silco than in Arcane, but manage to keep some of the bite he has in canon...) i only read 2 chapters, and what i can say is that it does a good job with the general cast, the interactions between Silco/Ekko-Firelights are believable, i think the one thing that could have weird me out is the way Silco is said to be 'proud' of the Firelights in the summary (for me 'pride' is something he'd reserve for Jinx yk?? anyway i stop the rambling) . The Timebomb relationship has more or less the same push and pull as in the show, with Ekko thinking about the girl Jinx used to be/ Ekko being a link to the past before Jinx and all that entail...so yeah, i'm loving it!

Powder doesnt become Jinx

The Alpha Command by typewriter_in_galaxy 13 chapters. WIP. Rated E.

ABO/Reverse AU where Powder doesnt become Jinx and is raised by Viktor, Ekko is taken in by Silco. btw i dont read a lot of abo fic (im very nickpick) but this one does every characters justice, and actually dwelve in depth in the abo universe.. (everything by typewriter is good to be honest, but my favorite thing is how they write Powder, who even when she doesnt become Jinx, is still shaped by a very violent world/trauma and it shows through her mental health issues and very, very low self worth/need to prove herself. )

everything's better with a friend by typerwriter_in_galaxy 7chapters. Completed. Rated E.

Timebomb centric rewrite of Arcane, Jinx is Powder, she doesnt fall under Silco's hand (or in his arms precisely), Ekko is Ekko, and 1, i need to hug Powder, 2 she deserves the world and 3 the characterization of everyone, everyone is so brillantly written and the timebomb relationship (damn even the CaitVi one too) oh, the timebomb of it all... they feel so, so real and it hurts, Powder's insecurities, her mental illness, her guilt, her need to prove herself but in same time she doesnt feel herself worth of anything (or anyone) good... just.read it. read it, because i just did, after like 2 years of not doing that and. im like mad bc why didnt i??? but in same time so grateful to just discover it now, taking my sweet little time reading it; it rewinded my brain its amazing, (like this work in another fandom, the first time i read this rebelcaptain's fic A Love song by skitzofreak - did i just linked it for you to read even tho its a timebomb rec post??? yes. yes i did. thats how much i love, adore, worship this one guys - so everything's better made me think a lot of this TB fic, and also of RC (the abandonment issues, thinking that you have to leave first before everyone leave you, Jyn and Powder damn).

Shattered Web by Firewolf2132 1 chapter. WIP. Rated M.

you know how everyone make the comparaison between Ekko and Miles?? well, the author found a way for Ekko transform into a spiderman that feels right in the arcane verse (end of act1) and damn its so good. Ekko slowly morphing and gaining his powers while everyone still have some focus on them (mostly Powder), but it still manages to keep the suspense of the fate of other characters. fabulous. author note: [I have seen so many comparisons between Ekko and Miles and a lot of fanart. So it felt that I had to do this. I can't promise future chapters right now (busy), but I am eager to see if this inspires any stories with a similar premise.]

S2 fanfics

fics covering Timebomb moments between ep 8 Ekko saving her /they painted each other and ep9

Go Back For Her by A_Lily_In_The_Moonlight 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated E.

Ekko's pov -i only read 1 chapter - we see his thought's process on his relationship with Powder AU/ Jinx, and how he came to the conclusion he must go back to her. the moment where he help Jinx with his Z-drive comes a little differently than in ep8 (well, the aftermath) aaand another fic where Jinx's grief over Isha's death shatters me, the pain and the self loathing/blaming from Jinx really devastating.

I dont believe in God, but i believe you're my savior by mquesterminds One shot. Rated T

[summary: every time Ekko has to rewind time to stop Jinx it cuts to a different moment from throughout their love story because I'm allergic to happiness the moments covering their shared past really make their present 10 times sadder.]

I'm sure we're taller in another dimension by hallwayheart One shot. Rated M. i have nothing to say because i'm still processing what i just read.ty.

Fires That Were Set by ilophilia ( @ilophilia on tumblr) 1 chapter. WIP.

the conversation after Ekko helped Jinx in episode 8. Loved the banter, the emotions (the grief is there and its important to feel it but damn i want to hug them so bad). They tell each other what happened when Ekko was gone, and you feel the distance/the closeness, near intimacy building again and its beautiful..

Hope is a winged beast by Grey_ Unicorn 4 chapters. WIP. Rated E.

prepare you tissues because i was myself not ready for chapter 3 and the emotional wreck of Jinx processing her grief. but here we are.

fics from AU Powder pov/exchange between Jinx and AU Powder

what we left behind by re_dragon_rising 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated T.

Powder traverses to the og arcane universe 1 year after Ekko's visit. (the insight into her life after Ekko leaves is wholesome and also give the reader a glimpse of the Mylo/Claggor/Powder siblings dynamics + the impact of Vi's death on them. really great. a little sad too.)

The other Ekko by GrammarThyEnemy Oneshot. General audience.

Powder knows this Ekko is not her Ekko.

memento vivere by fuwaaa 1/2. WIP. General audience.

covering the AU episode, Powder knows something's up with Ekko.

See Ya On The Other Side by moth_dust 3/5 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Powder also travel to the og universe.

these forgotten faces by whippindippin ( @whippindippin on tumblr too!) 6 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Jinx and Powder body swap and its both the worst and best thing that could ever happen to either of them. great reading and their reaction on point.

Isha is alive

Astrantia by AelinCreativ ( @aelincreativ they're on tumblr too!) 5 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

canon divergence where Ekko saves Isha. a lot of angst. but also a lot of happiness. so we can cry while smiling along with them. great. ty author!!

Ankle-Biter by darkfire1220 8/9 chapters, WIP. Rated M.

Isha is Jinx's biological daughter, Silco is a not so bad (grand) father, and their mother/daughter bond is one a the greatest thing ever. (very slowburn timebomb). Also Vi. i love you Vi.

post s2

we made our peace with weariness (and let it be) by The_FlamingTiger 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated M.

Ekko and Jinx reconnect in Bilgewater..(and Jinx goes to therapy. that too. its nice)

I don't believe in God (But I believe that you're my savior) by yeonatsu Oneshot, general audience.

Ekko is mourning.

this hunger for love won’t disappear by Amuria Oneshot, rated T.

Months after the battle for Piltover, Ekko begins to dream of Powder. He thinks it’s his grief playing tricks on him. She has different theory.

Francesca (Do You Think I'd Give Up?) by PoetProlific 2 chapters. WIP.

Ekko tries searching for Jinx...(with the help of Caitlyn, yep. and its well done, because I think Cait would help, for Vi. And i love how Ekko-Cait's dynamics might evolve because of this..)

So I met him there and told him I believe by ijustwanttoreadinpeace 3 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Jinx begins a new life in Bilgewater but is forced to come back... (edit: be warned, this is now an orphan account so idk if there will be more chapters.)

all the 6 timebomb one shot by atabex (the other fics are not timebomb) they're all rated E and oh boy is it worth it. most of these oneshot are gut wrenching and do smut + characters so well... the most recent one is just Ekko and AU Powder ahem doing the boombayah on the rooftop, but yk, with bits of sad and tragedy here and there.

i'm a little ashamed i'm only adding it now but every TB os fics by @shroomystar is 🤌 nothing else to add because each one of them are good. so. (if you want the explicit one-shots it's here and if you prefer without, it's here )

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 7

Title: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel flies home, Yuri flies back, Jungkook can't stop thinking about the other night. And you? Gods, don't even get me started.

Warnings: T, language, fluff (?), angst, reader is ~not~ okay for a chunk of this, bye bye Nel! it was nice to meet you, Yuri being the bestie she is, playful antagonism, JK thinking a lot, some photography technical words but nothing scary, reader is painting again, shocker.

Word Count: 4,463

Release Date: July 9, 2024. 2:00PM

A/N 1: Hi this was supposed to be released like a month and a half ago but then i went to europe and my brain was anywhere but near electronics. Anywhooo here she is, as always thanks for waiting and I'll try to be more consistent now that post vacation depression has kicked in.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Sometimes life works out incredibly conveniently for you, like when Nel’s flight leaves a half hour before Yuri’s gets in at the same airport. 

But then it sucks again as your week with Nel flies by so quickly it feels like you’ve had no time at all while also having so much because of all the new memories you’ve both made. 

Currently in a rideshare and airport bound, because you will be in no way okay to drive back, your grip on Nel’s hand is strangling as you take in every last second of time you can get with him. He keeps giving kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, mouth; anywhere he can get access to really. 

He doesn't want this week to end just as much as you don’t. Fuck this fucking sucks so much.

The driver pulls up to the terminal drop off, and you both exit. Nel grabs his bag from the trunk, now filled with little mementos from your week as well as his clothes. A pressed flower from the greenhouse, museum postcards, a doodle you did for him while he was sketching, and more, all tucked away for safekeeping. All the only physical things he can hold onto until he sees you next. 

Walking into the airport, you make your way up to the check in desk, paperwork already in hand. Nel checks in and you request an escort pass, determined to spend every last moment together. 

There’s a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying to swallow. It’s thick, like a ball of unending peanut butter you can’t get down. And your chest feels like a black hole has opened inside of it, right where your heart is supposed to be. Every second that ticks away allowing another drop of the warmth you have with him to be sucked right out of your sternum.

Painful doesn’t even begin to describe this feeling. 

As beautiful as your week was, the reality of the present is setting in, and the closer you get to his gate, the closer you are to tears. You’re trying your best to blink them away, but you won’t be seeing him until winter break, and even then, that’ll only be for a day or two at most before you have to wait till summer to see him again. So it might as well be goodbye for those full 6 months.

It hurts. It hurts so bad to have to go through this over and over again, to have this separation from the one you love, even if it’s only temporary. Funny how temporary can sometimes feel like forever when you’re in the middle of it. 

Funny how the concept of temporary doesn’t make the gash in your heart open any less.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he has too. The faster he goes, the faster he can come back to you. 

You hate that he has to go in the first place. You just want him to stay. Please, just stay.

But he can’t. 

You reach his gate and before you know it, his flight’s being called to board and your tears refuse to stay inside any longer, the lump succeeding in its plot of victory. They spill down your cheeks in silent rivers, wet splotches on the neckline of your shirt forming as they flow. 

Maybe they’ll create a little lake in the hole he’s leaving you with. There’s certainly enough of them to fill it. Something to fill the void a little until you can see him again.

Nel takes one look before scooping you into a crushing hug, a desperate echo of the one from a week ago. His own tears now staining.

“I love you so much,” he says. You don’t see his eyes squeeze shut, nor do you see him memorizing your smell, as he kisses the top of your head. And his voice wobbles as he whispers, “It’s not forever, it’s just for now.” 

He says those words every time you two part, whether it was for a day or a year. Never goodbye or so long. Never see you later. 

They’ve always been a small comfort in otherwise shitty situations. 

“Just for now,” you get out through quiet sobs, gripping onto him even tighter as you shake. 

It takes you a couple deep breaths before you can say anything without breaking. “I love you too. Please be safe, message me when you land, and do well on your final exams.”

He smiles at that last bit, and your tears free themselves again. You’re going to miss seeing that smile in person.

Nel pulls you in once more, tighter. “It’s always harder when my good luck charm is halfway across the world, but I’ll manage.” Your sobs stutter with a broken laugh, and you’re pretty sure his sweater is going to have tear stains on it. “I promise I’ll message as soon as I can. And I’d wish you luck but you never need it. You always do well.”

The announcement for final boarding calls and both of you freeze in each other's arms. You don’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to go.

But he has too. 

You separate only enough to kiss. It’s messy and wet and gross, but you don’t care. It’s the last one you’ll have for a while and you never want it to end. 

But it does. 

Nel pulls away, and you reluctantly let him. He grabs his bag with one hand, the other holding onto both of yours as he backs away until he can no longer reach. Your arms drop to your sides with the traces of his warmth on your skin.

You watch as the boarding crew welcomes him on, and he takes one look back at you. 

You wave, mouthing ‘I love you.’

He mouths ‘I love you’ right back, and turns the corner.

You waited for Yuri at her terminal after dropping off Nel and taking five—okay ten—minutes to violently sob in the bathroom. 

She took one look at your half smile and puffy eyes and smothered you in a hug. Smelling like sunshine and ocean water, it was exactly what you needed. 

“It’s okay Sweets, you’ll see him again before you know it. This year will pass by so fast, just you see,” she tells you through your whimpers, the tears having returned the second her arms were around you.

They dry sometime on the way home. It was a thirty minute ride back to school, and they fell silently for a solid twenty before you even got in.

You hate goodbyes. 

But Yuri’s seen this three times now, and she always knew that a warm drink and junk food were in your immediate shared futures when she did. Screw healthy coping methods. It may be 9:30pm on a Sunday night, but that won’t stop you from downing a pint as you drown your sorrows in sweet, sweet cookies n cream. 

Yuri also knows you need a distraction, so she doesn’t hold back on telling you every detail of her vacation. 

The duke from a few weeks ago had been a dud. ‘Shit personality and even shittier sex’ according to Yuri. No consultation needed. 

But this new guy from the Ilcalos Islands sounds promising. He’s a Count of something she can’t remember but in her words, “big heart and even bigger dick.” 

That makes you giggle. And you’re happy for her. 

“Bitch, the second night he did this thing with his tongue and an ice cube and oh. my. god. I think I’m in love. That man could do whatever he wanted to me and I’d still say thank you afterwards,” she’s rambling at this point and you’re mentally apologizing to the driver for having to hear all of it. 

You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all; gladly welcome it actually. You want your mind anywhere other than the present right now. 

You don’t want to start crying all over again. By the morning you’ll be fine, you’ll have let out everything you needed too. But between then and now, it’s a matter of mentioning the wrong words or seeing an intriguingly designed building that could trigger those pesky tear ducts.

So you listen to Yuri go on and on about this guy, all his techniques and what she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since she last saw him. His number is already saved in her phone under a very inappropriate name, but you expect nothing less from her. 

You love her for it. For this. 

For knowing what you need to stay afloat right now and not allowing you to throw the anchor overboard with your leg chained to the end.

You really fucking hate goodbyes. 

You’re staring at him. 

Like, full on, no bars held, staring at him. 

And Jungkook’s pretending he doesn’t notice.

You’re sitting in your chair and he’s back in his beside you at greenhouse cafe. Your half done painting of pink flowers sits in front of you, his laptop screen’s filled with this week's newly assigned ‘Studio Portrait Techniques 1’ homework. 

His half finished coffee on his table. An empty pastry bag on yours.

His hands on his keyboard, yours gripping a brush.

And you’re staring at him. 

He’s hoping it’s because this is the first time you’ve seen him since Nel left. 

But it’s probably to do with the fact that he hasn’t looked at you once today. Or the fact that he’s barely spoken at all when he usually can’t seem to shut up when it’s been more than 48 hours since he last saw you. 

Because it’s also the first time he’s seen you since he was with Adaline, imaging she wasn’t Adaline.

“You’re acting weird,” you say.

“No I’m not,” he responds a little too quickly, eyes still focused on his computer.

Yes he is. He really, totally is. 

“Yes you are, you won't look at me and you’ve barely said two words since I got here.” Well your knack for observancy is still intact.

Normally that's a good thing, but right now?

“Did I do something wrong?”

No. No you didn’t.

He did.

He let his emotions get the best of him in a moment of weakness. He let himself become so overwhelmed with feelings he isn’t allowed to have. He let them win for a single night.

And now if he isn’t paying the goddamned consequences. 

After that night with Adaline, Jungkook had woken up filled with regret. He’d crossed a line he didn’t even know he should have drawn in very dark, very permanent ink.

For letting himself, just for one moment, imagine what it would be like to be with…

And things are harder than ever to shove down now. He can’t look even look at you without thinking about it. About what he did. What he wanted. 

Wants.

Fuck, he’s in over his head.

Jungkook forces himself to look at you, putting his years of social training and emotional masking to good use. It sure as hell came in handy during times like this.

Because you can never know. 

He can’t lose you because he's unable to get his shit together. It’s not your fault he feels like this. 

So he lies. Both to you and to himself, hoping it might help him believe it.

“Nothing’s wrong Dali, just focused on my work is all. We got assigned a big project on Monday and I’m planning out all my shoots.”

You look hesitant, like you can see right through his bullshit excuse that was only a half excuse because this project is massive. 

“If you say so,” your tone implying you don’t believe him, but thankfully, you let it go and lean closer to him to see. He pretends his breathing doesn’t hitch, “What’s the project?”

“It’s my final assignment for a class, I have to do a series of five portraits. Each one with a different style, capturing a different emotion, and they all have to be of the same subject to show the true versatility of my work. It’s easy to make things look different when it’s different people being photographed,” he explains.

Therefore, this assignment, and all of its working parts, is huge. He’s glad it’s due in the middle of December because it’s going to take him almost a month of planning to get it all together; backdrops, concepts, costumes, previsualization, focal lengths, props, equipment, lighting setups, etc. And then when the planning is over: to shoot, narrow down and edit. 

But that’s the point of it. To have the students demonstrate they know how to effectively expand on the definition of a ‘portrait’ instead of having one concept in mind and sticking to it. 

‘To broaden your creative approaches to seemingly simple constructs,’ as his professor would say.

He loves the way this professor does assignments. How she layers them so that not only does he learn how to shoot multi-concept ideas for the same project type, allowing him to add to his creative portfolio, but they also force him to break out of the expected conclusions for an idea and think outside the box. 

“Oh wow, that is a lot,” you say. Because you understand long running projects. 50 hour paintings don’t just happen in a day. “Do you have any ideas yet?”

“Yeah! I have them all already, actually,” he turns his computer towards you and you see a point by point list of summarized ideas.

- Bright and bold - happy, bright smile, colourful gels - Black and white, soft light: gel or bounce? Silk diffuser  - profile with water falling on face - relieved - Focused on passion - candid, regular colour. Diffuser? Or silk flag? - Normal colour profile, stark lighting - serious, front facing body, profile facing left, no visible clothing, “regal” _|(_*-*)>_. Flag.  - Mysterious - black background, white smoke, barely visible model, lower half of face painted black, upper half white, striking purple eyes (contacts?). Flags. Gels? 

“I’m really excited for this project,” he says, “it’s just the prep that’s going to take a while. Getting it all mapped and planned out. It’s mostly concepts right now.”

You nod, understanding once again. Though very different mediums, visual arts and photography are similar in many ways. 

“Adaline going to be your model?”

It doesn’t surprise him you think that, but he has no intentions of ever using Adaline for assignments or homework. 

“Actually, I… uhh…” he trails off. Jungkook’s trying to get the words out, he is. But they’re surprisingly difficult for some reason, and getting caught in his throat. 

Which makes his earlier anxious state come back in full force. 

It shouldn't be this difficult. It won’t be the first, second or fifth time he’s asked you.

Get the words out Jeon. Put on your professional face, this is nothing new.

He fails, instead, his voice comes out barely above a whisper as he says, “I was going to ask you if you would.”

You somehow hear him. 

“Me?” you look dumbfounded. 

“Yes, you.” He’s always used you for homework assignments before, so he’s not sure why all of a sudden this is surprising. Maybe because it’s a final assignment versus a weekly one? The effort will be greater? 

“But you have Adaline? I assumed that she would take up the position of model when you guys started going out.”

Oh. That makes more sense. 

But that is one mistake he won’t be making again, because he did ask Adaline. 

Once.

It was recent, Nel was still here and he didn’t want to disturb you because of that. Plus Jungkook was just trying to get a jump on his upcoming assignments anyway, taking a page from your book.

So he asked Adaline. And she leapt at the opportunity, like he expected.

What he didn’t expect, was when she essentially directed, staged, lit and posed every. single. shot. so that she would look her best. 

All he did was click the capture image button when she said too. 

And after the shoot, before he could even think to look at the pictures, Adaline was already there, holding his camera, going through them and deleting any picture she deemed ‘ugly.’

He was left with less than 20 images from the shoot where he was ordered to take over 200. And she even made him switch out one of the three he narrowed down for one she liked better. 

So no, he would not be asking Adaline to model. 

Ever again.

“Nah. You’re a lot easier to work with because you don't care how the pictures turn out, and let me do my thing. Adaline cares a bit too much, and has to have approval on all of them before I submit.”

You snort. “Seriously? Is she that self absorbed?” a quirked brow places itself on your face to match the smirk now on your mouth.

That’s new.

Your tone towards Adaline has always been neutral, if not a bit sharp when he talks about her. 

But this one? It’s like you know her, and knew she was like that, but didn’t know it was this severe. 

Adaline is very popular...maybe you two met and it didn't go well?

It certainly sounds like you don’t like her, if those six words were anything to go by. Which, he guesses they shouldn’t, but he knows you well enough by now to know the difference.

And if he’s honest, that wouldn’t shock him in the slightest. You two are nothing alike, and thank god for that. 

He covers for Adaline, like any boyfriend would. Though it stings a little bit.

“She’s just careful about what images could be leaked to the press. Can’t really blame her for that.”

Your face changes minutely, as if a second of understanding passes through before you turn to go back to your painting, and mutter, “no, you can’t,” placing a splash of pink on a flower. 

He returns to his work as well, switching the portrait assignment out for a different one. He needs to get his mind off it for a while before circling back. 

And the fact that you didn’t answer him. 

Deciding on a Design and Visual Culture assignment due next week, he dives in head first, resuming his earlier state of focus and avoidance.

Jungkook’s editing a picture when you stretch. 

You often hunch over your work, so you try to stretch every 30 minutes or so. Your arms are in the air and he catches a peek at the nearly finished floral study. 

They’re some kind of vibrant pink dangling flowers, and you’ve captured the likeness of them quite well, to no surprise of his, so he goes to compliment it but you beat him to the punch.

“Shots blurry.”

Jungkook does a double take at his laptop screen. He’d spent the better part of 40 minutes editing the image and hadn’t noticed that.

Because it’s not. It’s perfectly crisp and clear.

When he looks back to you, you have a shit eating grin on your face. 

Ah, he knows that look. 

You love to tease him about little things like that, giving him mini heart attacks. ‘Pay back for that first day,’ you claim. 

Well…

Two can play this game, so he plays off your comment.

“Oh, you're right. Thanks,” and he switches to another image. 

Your grin falters but you recover quickly.

“No problem.”

See, while you know how to playfully harass him about his pictures, Jungkook knows how…particular you are about your colours. How they need to be labelled correctly instead of by their umbrella terms like ‘blue’ or ‘red.’ Because blue or red could mean any one of the dozens of ‘sub colours.’

‘It’s not blue, it’s cerulean,’ you’d remark. 

‘That’s not red, it’s burgundy,’ you’d correct him.

You’re always correcting him, and it makes his pants tighten a little bit every time. But that’s on the other side of the line he does not cross anymore. A nice, big, fat, permanent, protective line. 

Jungkook settles for a more subtle method of attack. Using this little fact and your ridiculously extensive knowledge of flowers against you. 

He never thought the defense and attack lessons his father put him through would come in handy like this. But he’s glad for them now. It was the only time he could ever outsmart you.

He gestures to your canvas. “Those pink flowers are pretty, what are they called?” 

“Their common name is Lady’s Eardrop. And they’re magenta.”

Hook, line, sinker. 

He doesn’t even have to try, you walk right into it every time.

“Lady’s eardrop? That’s a weird name…do they come in other colours besides pink?”

You don’t look up as you reply. 

“Magenta, and yeah. Some are plum and magenta, some are a buttery white and magenta, and then some have this like, almost dark tangerine hue, but they’re a different type, longer. Not the same as those,” you point with the end of your brush to the greenhouse, where the fully magenta lady’s eardrop sits in the window. 

“And are these pink ones your favourite?” he’s really trying his best to keep a straight face as yours contorts with an eye twitch at every use of the word.

“They’re. Magenta. And sure, but the plum ones are pretty too.”

“Noted, the pink lady's eardrop are your favourite among eardrops.”

You break, turning to him, voice raising in minor annoyance. Jungkook bites his cheeks to keep a smile at bay.

“They are magenta. Not pink. Pink entails a lighter hue, there’s more titanium white in pink. That,” you point again, “is very clearly, magenta.”

He has to. 

He can’t help it. 

You’re sexy when you're assertive, he thinks. Tip toeing on that nice, big line.

But also hilarious. 

“Same difference.”

He can see the fire in your eyes blaze.

“No, not ‘same difference,’ they’re magenta!”

He’s leaning in. “Pink,” eyeing your lips as you speak. 

You lean in too, enunciating every syllable to prove your point. “Ma-gen-ta.”

Your noses are mere inches from touching. 

“They’re pink, Van Gogh,” he backs off before he does something stupid that he’ll regret, “Don’t get so invested.”

You back off too, sass still very evident when you reply, “They’re fucking magenta, asshat. Two completely different colours and you’ll label them as such around me.”

You’ve always had a mouth on you. One you aren’t scared to use when necessary, especially around him. So he doesn’t push any farther, knowing he’s already gotten what he wanted and then some. 

But also because sitting has become slightly uncomfortable. There was a stiff breeze, he tells himself.

Thank god for baggy, oversized hoodies. 

Returning once again to his work, he puts an elbow on the table and places his hand on the left side of his face to hide the massive smile that’s trying its best to turn into a smothered laugh.

Unfortunately for him, he lets his Princely guard down around you and so he forgets to force it down to an uncomfortable degree like he would at the palace. His laugh slipping out as a strangled noise and he quickly turns it into a cough, hoping you don't notice. 

But you do, because it’s you. Of course you do.

And the look on your face is priceless.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” he says way too high pitched. “Nooo, I would never, one hundred percent intentionally, say pink just to get back at you for pointing out the non-existent blur in my perfectly clear picture.”

He can see you trying to control your features, can see you failing and giving up by facing your canvas again, smiling to yourself.

“I was wondering how many times I could get you to say it. I think that was somewhere around ten? Gotta be a new record.”

You roll your eyes at him, but your quirked mouth remains. 

“You’re such a dick,” you quip.

“Yet, you like me anyways.”

You mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Awe, c’mon now. Fess up.”

A pause, before, “I said I just remembered I don’t know your favourite colour.”

No you most certainly did not, but he’ll let it slide.

“Black.”

“Ugh, boring.”

“What?”

“Boring,” you say again with absolutely no hesitation and proceed to grace his eyes with your own. “And technically not a colour. Black’s a shade.”

Jungkook offers up a non-smothered chuckle, saving his throat from further shenanigans.

“Whatever, Seurat, it’s still black. What about you? What’s Miss High and Mighty All Knowing of Colours’ favorite?”

“It’s still a shade,” you repeat.

“It’s still my favourite. Answer the question,” he presses. 

You give him an unimpressed stare. 

“Violet. Royal violet. The one your dad wears a lot,” your expression softens to one of wonder as you continue. Like you didn't just refer to the King of the nation you live in as ‘his dad’ so casually. “And when it’s not that, it’s this bright yellow. Like sunflowers or daffodils. Or the colour leaves turn in the fall when the light hits them from above just right.”

It’s Jungkook's turn to stare now. You look lost in your own head, envisioning the colours you describe, seeing them dancing in your eyes. And he can’t help himself, you glow when you speak about something you're passionate about.

“Why two?” 

“Why not?” you answer, still dreaming, colours swimming in oceans of thought. Your voice is almost whimsical. “Don’t you get bored of one colour for too long? It’s nice to switch things up every now and then.”

His reply brings you back down to earth, albeit slowly.

“Red.”

“Hmm?” you touch ground.

“If you won’t accept black, then red. The rich dark one, like blood.” He chose the first colour that came into mind, not really caring which one. 

He did like red. Red looked good in many ways. On cars, clothes, lips...

But he chose the first one that popped into mind because after hearing your favourite colours and the reasons why, he started to like them more than all the others too.

“Red’s a great choice, strong,” you say, allowing him the blanket term just this once.

“Thanks.”

There’s a moment of comfortable quiet between you before you break it.

“When do you need me for the shoot?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows find his hairline. 

That was a yes, right? You’re saying yes?

“Uhm…soon, I’ll let you know the specifics when I do.”

“Sounds good.”

He was going to leave it at that, but adds, “Thanks, Y/N.”

He hasn’t said your name since the assembly. 

Always nicknames when talking to you. Always. 

Never your name. 

Not once in two months. Almost three.

You—

An inhale.

You…like it.

The way it sounds coming from his lips.

Exhale.

Chapter Eight: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

A/N 2: She's shorter but chapter 8 is like 11k so far, so I hope that makes up for it!

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[sulumuns-dootah]

WHB characters boyfriend HCs

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Written mid October as a way to make myself feel better. Might turn this into a series, if anyone is interested ^^

Characters: Satan, Paimon, Beelzebub, Gusion, Michael

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Bike rides and bar dates - I can just imagine going for a drive through Gehenna's streets, tightly holding onto Satan so you don't fall off a the high speed (Just like Minhyeok when Juno drove him to school in chapter 6)

Okay, on the theme of bars: kinda funny but I imagne him holding his hard liquor much better than something with little-to-none alcohol

Lots of lovebites and hickeys

Despite stuggling to sleep normally, when you're with him, it's the exact opposite and whenever you cuddle, he's out within minutes

His love language is bullying

During his depressive episodes, you're the only one he'll let near him

NSFW HCs

That horn style might as well be called handlebars, bc you sure will be holding onto dear life ( joke stolen from Trixie Mattel)

He has a thing for when someone rides his boots

Kinda obvious one, but a lot of BDSM in the bedroom

If you're a monsterfucker, he wouldn't mind changing into his other form for you

    ༺☆༻

Shopping dates!!

If you wish to, your relationship can be fully off social media despite Pai practically living on them

Matching stuff!

Loves doing your makeup (even if you don't wear any)

Café dates!

Ultimatelly, you're their new photographer for their posts

Overall the vibe of your relationship really gives me the two best friends who also fuck vibes

Every night is a slumber party!

NSFW HCs

If you get periods, they'll make sure you have all the stuff in the world you might need

And if you require some special attention down there, they're more than excited to make you feel good

I can imagine a lot of roleplay with cute outfits for the both of you

    ༺☆༻

Even when you're not with each other, there's at least a fly following you around to make sure you're okay

His clones do prove useful for more than just sex - putting new fitted sheets onto your mattress? done and done!

Every date is in a new location you never even knew about

Despite his memory being shit, he'll remember all the important and small things: your favorite scent? favorite dish? flower? yep, all memorised or turned into a tattoo on his inner wrist!

Oh, speaking of tattoos... You two get a matching one to seal the deal on your relationship

Instead of proposal with a ring, Beel proposes with a piercing needle and giving you the choice of what he'll pierce (you can even pick multiple spots!)

NSFW HCs

Let's get the obvious out of the way: Yes, he loves eating you out so much he'd spend the next century between your legs

And yes, you can say goodbye to deodorants/perfumes

Surprisingly not into food play tho... If you look any more yummy, he might actually eat you :D

    ༺☆༻

Workaholic baby :(

Like seriously, you sometimes have to cleverly lure him away from his math problems

If you're a student, you've won the jackpot! He might not be an expert in your field, but he knows how to help you learn

Gaming nights with some insane hard puzzle games

A cute scenario: Gus taking off his glasses before leaning down to kiss you deeply

I already mentioned this in my post about confessing a crush to him, but he might neglect you a bit from being so into his work so make sure to sound off and let him know

NSFW HCs

Someone gets a bit hot and bothered after your study session together

Ooh! I absolutely can't forget a good ol' teacher/student roleplay

He's most likely originally from Gehenna bc of how horny he got from the thought of having a headache, so I HC that he'll come seek you out after getting one to fuck the life out of you

    ༺☆༻

His hair is 100% pure silk

Your relationship probably started with Mikey first seeing you and not being able to read you, so he decided to keep his remaining eye on you to see what's the story with you

Somehow ended up accidentally(?) falling for you

He's definitelly the most likely demon to get unhealthily obsessed with his s/o

A lot of attachment issues after loosing God and Lucifer

That mom friend for sure (even literally a mom - kinda makes me wonder how he'd react to all the lesser angels he made giving him Mother's day card)

One daydream plot i came up with is that if I were in Hell and Michael showed up, I'd just pretend to be fully delulu that he's into me, but isn't ready to tell me yet The whole "Aw, you came to see me? Does that mean...? that you're ready to confess to me...?" He'd just get disgusted and leave and then everybody claps

NSFW HCs

Kinda obvious, but he's iffy about sexual subjects at first

Still doesn't mean he hasn't thought a few times about breaking out of his chastity cage

Once you break down his restraints, he's maybe even freakier than some demons in Abaddon

Maybe there's a good reason God locked his angels up

Okay, hear me out: Michael x MC x Raphael (yes, death is almost guaranteed, but what a way to go!)

[disabled-dean]

Announcing Lebanon Fic Week!

In light of recent political events, @butch--dean & I have been talking a lot about the importance of fandom and transformative fanworks in building community and mutual aid.

We've worked in close collaboration on this project and have put our heads together to develop a short event at the end of December for the release of Ten Minutes from Home: Lebanon Coda.

I had planned to release the fic over the course of two weeks, but have condensed it down so that all of the chapters will be coming out between Christmas Eve and New Years, with the hope of adding some extra seasonal cheer to a fairly bleak time.

Lebanon Release Dates:

December 24th: Chapter 1 & 2

December 25th: Chapter 3 & 4

December 26th: Chapter 5 & 6

December 27th: Chapter 7

December 28th: Chapter 8

December 29th: Chapter 9

December 30th: Chapter 10

December 31st: Chapter 11 & Epilogue

On the days that each chapters release, I will be reblogging related content to @lebanon-wip with an optional tag to block if you don't want any spoilers (#lebanon fic spoilers). Anyone who wants to share related content is welcome to send it to me via ask or in DMs and I will share it! If you want to create original content, you can tag it with #10MFH (and/or send it directly to me). @butch--dean has pointed out that tags on re-blogs don't show up in the Tumblr search function (thank u taylor) so reblogging existing posts with the #10MFH is not trackable. You've gotta send them in asks or be so so brave and DM.

We've also got a couple of commissioned artists who will be sharing work inspired by the fic. I will be adding links to interactive bonus content on this master list and on the chapter announcements as they are released, along with a couple of low-barrier participatory events planned (like sharing a photo of your favorite holiday or seasonal mug). The purpose of this event is to be in community with one another, be ourselves, and have fun! Any and all original content is encouraged. Please come as you are <3 Lastly, thank you so so much for all of the excitement and support around this fic! She has truly blossomed from your love and encouragement, which has warmed my heart and made all the difference <3

Thank you for being so so so niceys to me! Please enjoy my little gift to all of you.

[kingcrow01]

DC x Marvel Fic Recs

@jas-per11 @letthedeadghostrest

Hello! I saw your post, and I've been meaning to rec some DC x Marvel fics anyways, so I'll do that here. I don't know what you've read, so I'll start with

Peter Parker / DC Series:

The Dark Matter Multiverse Series by @mysterycyclone

Dark Matter is the blueprint for most Peter Parker / DC fics, and it's also fucking fantastic. If you're reading a crossover and don't understand why, without explanation, Peter is talking to ghosts? Why he by default ends up living in a firehouse? Read Dark Matter.

Spider and Bat Friends Series by @emmacortana

So far, 12 well written and hilarious works from my all-time favorite author, Miss emmacortana. This, coming from someone with over 1,500 bookmarks. She's that good.

Bitsy and The Bats Series Series by @wibbwoby

Haven't read this one in a while, so I don't have much to say, but Rated T for Traumatized is an absolute classic.

Pizzaverse Series by Irisen

A heavier read, wherein Peter tries to keep his job, make rent, and has a lot of unfortunate run-ins with Gotham's rogues.

Peter & The BatBoys (Doctor AU) Series by @thepoppypress

Peter is the Wayne family's doctor. He has a... chaotic time. I've only read Part 1, but I am still including this here because it's a series.

Peter Parker needs a hug (From the BatFamily) Series by @true-blue-fool

Shorter fics about Peter bonding with the Batfamily. Part 3 is especially cute.

Spider and Bats Series by @superklutzkent

Peter Parker whump, featuring the Batfam. All of the whump.

Let's take a break and look at some DC x Marvel fics that DON'T feature Peter:

Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place Series by RavenclawAngel

After Civil War, Steve gets exiled to DCs earth and builds a new team.

from the nucleus flight Series by @blackkatmagic

Khonshu whisks (Comic) Moon Knight away to DC. Very well written and passionate. If it's not your thing, don't let the Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector tag dissuade you from reading; since it's unfinished, the ship hasn't happened yet, and it's too good of a fic to miss out on.

The Devil's in Gotham (Remastered) by @prince-link13

Matt Murdock moves to Gotham and befriends Jason Todd, his neighbor. Bruce Wayne/Matt Murdock

Marvel/DC Crossovers Series by @bamboozled-and-alone

What it says on the tin. My favorite, part 2, is Matt Murdock taking care of Damian Wayne.

Echolocation Series by Firecat23

Matt Murdock and the bats; though, part 6 does have Team Red, meaning Peter.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming:

Peter Parker slash fics:

Cassandra Cain/Peter Parker

Along Came a Spider Series by @rags-n-bones

Quiet Respite by @faeriekit

I'm not too far in this one yet, but it's Faeriekit, so it's bound to be good.

Peter Parker/Tim Drake, affectionately called redspider

a shining spider web by Selador

Needling by LaughingFreak

How dimension travel can lead to love. Series by Psychic_Queen05

My current Favorite Ongoing Peter Parker / DC Crossovers:

The Ones Burnt by This_is_lovin

After the events of No Way Home, Dr. Strange's magic sends Peter to Gotham. He wakes up in another boy's body, and has to deal with the consequences. Part one just ended with a bang, you all should be there for part two, it's gonna be awesome.

Arachnomaly by @songue85

The (Comic) Amazing Spider-Man, being neighborly in Gotham. Plus some sick art from the author.

time flies by (bye) by WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN

Two difficult years after No Way Home, Peter ends up in Gotham, but with a whole lot of introspection. One chapter left; you better be there.

All of the rest, that didn't fit in the prior categories:

Unforeseen Consequences by @mysterycyclone

Gotta Get to Rock Bottom! by @emmacortana

Read the initial notes first.

Set Naked on Your Kingdom by sassydandelion

Peter's Gotham Debut by BlankGeode, Leeavy

This Was Home by @emmacortana

The Peter Parker Theory by nicfics

and even though we are strange and exquisitely scarred by Wingfeather6913

What happens in New York by @violent138

A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back) by Vivia_wants_boba

Ignorance is Death by No_idea_what_Im_doing_lmaooo

One Dead Spider by Miellonek

If you do check out any of these fics, always leave a comment. Authors love those, it’s like catnip to them.

[chdarling]

As we’re getting closer to a truly awful day for America, I just wanted to check in on you. Things are bleak and about to get so so much worse, I want you to know I’m here and many others are here too when you’re ready

This is very kind of you, thank you. Honestly, I have not been doing great. Watching my neighbors elect a racist, fascist, Nazi-loving rapist triggered a pretty bad depressive episode on top of what was already the worst period of professional and creative burnout of my life, so….I’m struggling. Still trying to claw my way out of the dark. I’m deeply appreciative of the kindness of this community and am sorry that I haven’t (and probably won’t for a little longer) been able to engage the way I once did. I will again one day, and I am so thankful to know all you wonderful people online. <3

On a note that is completely unrelated to this gentle ask, I’ve been getting a ton of messages lately asking for a date when TLE3 is coming out and I don’t feel up to answering them (sorry) so I’m just going to tack this on here since I buried my last post on the subject under a mountain of despair reblogs: TLE3 is going to take a while.

I’m still planning to continue with my writing projects (be they TLE or other things), but right now I’m focusing on securing my own oxygen mask, etc. When I finished posting TLE2, I said that I would be taking a break and also that I would not be posting TLE3 until I had written all of it (like I had for TLE1). Even if I had been writing diligently every single day since I posted the last chapter, I still wouldn’t be done, so please understand that it’s going to take a while. It certainly will not be coming in the next 6 months, very possibly not in 2025. I know some people won’t be happy to hear that, but just a fun statistic: OOTP has 257,045 words and took three years to write/publish after GOF. TLE2 has (and this makes me cringe a little) 407,079 words and took roughly 3 years to write as an unpaid side hobby on top of full time work, education, etc. I don’t say this to toot my own horn (frankly, it just makes me desperately want to retroactively edit the crap out of TLE2 lol), but rather to reiterate that writing a book-length work takes a lot of time, energy, and love. I don’t want it to take 3 years (and I don’t think it will, TLE3 will be a more reasonable length), but it’s certainly not going to be finished in a few months. That would be insanity and I am not that talented lmao.

I do know that the requests for updates come from a place of love and enthusiasm and excitement and I really, truly appreciate that. I also appreciate all of the kind words of the asks I haven’t been answering. Please know that I’ve read them, I love you, and I will be back eventually. I just have to focus on my health right now, and unfortunately these days being online is pretty bad for that, so I'm going to try to be logged off for a while.

And finally, on another completely unrelated but perhaps mildly tangential note: if anyone has any books recommendations or resources on processing climate grief, I, uh, could use them. 🫠

[buckets-and-trees]

Bucky Barnes Collection

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my lovely wife @rookthornesartistry

Series & Collections

FINE LINE a near-future dark omegaverse AU DARK STORY, omegaverse dynamics, scenes of dubious consent, angst, manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping, explicit smut

↠ part one: Give Up ↠ part two: Falling Away ↠ part three: Every Minute Of It

DEVOUR - complete soft!dark mob boss!Bucky AU explicit smut with feels

SERIES: ↠ salt, non/dub-con ↠ fat ↠ acid ↠ heat

MORE STORY: ↠ what happens after you go out with the girls (a few days after heat) ↠ mint (a week or two after heat) ↠ chocolate (a week after mint) ↠ yeast (tbd point after the series) custard (first winter holidays together)

CHOSEN - complete a modern AU with soft!dark, mystical, and cult elements eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha x Reader scenes, Natasha x Reader x Steve scenes, Natasha x Steve SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut (with feelings and without feelings), dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, entrapment, natural sleeping drugs

INSTALLMENTS: ↠Arrival [3.4k] ↠Lunch [3.2k] ↠Consideration [4.4k] ↠Semantics [3.4k] ↠ Preparation [3.2k] ↠ Procession [4.2K] ↠ Offering [3.2k] ↠ Binding [2.9k] ↠ Transformation

WARM SHADOWS - complete post-endgame omegaverse series Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader, Alpha!Captain Hydra x omega!reader, eventual Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader x Alpha!Steve DARK SMUT, tw: non con, tw: dub con, fluff beginning

↠ chapter one: When You Fall On Me Like Night [2.5k] ↠ chapter two: Let All Light Go [7.5k] ↠ chapter three: Carving Through the Dark [14.4k] ↠ chapter four: The Working of Your Hands [15.5k] ↠ epilogue: The Dawn Has Come [5k]

THE BROOKLYN BOYS - complete a post-endgame where Steve stays in the present rom-com drabble series, slow burn Bucky x reader, Steve x reader, eventual Stucky x reader

SERIES: ↠ 1: Bucky and the Bench ↠ 2: Steve and the Sandwich ↠ 3: Bucky and the Books ↠ 4: Steve and the Skyline ↠ 5: Bucky and the Brief Brush ↠ INTERLUDE ↠ 6: Steve and the Ballet ↠ 7: Bucky and the Shelves ↠ 8: Steve and the Blindside ↠ 9: Bucky and the Situation ↠ 10: Steve and the Best Friend ↠ EXITLUDE

MORE STORY: ↠ First Night [takes place immediately after part 10] ↠ Idle Hands [first fall/winter] ↠ Big Red Bow [a few days after their first NYE]

LITTLE LARK a modern mafia AU with dark elements mean Mafia!Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader x mean Mafia!Steve

↠ Little Lark ↠ Bird on a Wire ↠ Bird Home in the Darkness

BUCK’S ELEVEN  a snapshot series, historical AU, Ocean’s Eleven-style heist premise mentions of ex-wife!Reader, Steve and many other Avenger cameos

↠ Buck's Eleven ↠ Bookings and Rings Steve x Pan Am Stewardess Reader [600 words, light smut] ↠ Good Luck the team [600 words]

DESPERATE TO DEVOTED a rivals to lovers post-TFATWS verse

↠ Desperate [3k] SMUT, dubious consent, sex pollen, kidnapping ↠ Uncertain and Sure [550] slight angst, feels, no smut ↠ Insatiable [1850] fluff and explicit smut ↠ Big Conversation [1.1k] little bit of fluff and sass ↠ Too Hot [700] light smut

Double-Shots

Sacrificial [3.5k] + follow up drabble: Do You Remember? Minotaur!Bucky x female!scientist!Reader modern/mythical AU, soft!dark, smut, monster fucking, tw: dub-con

Perfectionists[2.2k] + Test Play [1.8k] Game Designer!Bucky, modern AU, smut

What You Want [2.7k] + Now That I Saw You [4k] lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant!reader modern AU

Talk [2k] + Feel [2.3k] Pleasure Dom!Bucky (modern AU), smut, BDSM

Parking Lot Chem [6.7k] + Camaraderie [3.4k] modern AU, raunchy!Bucky, smut, hook up culture

IN THE OPEN AIR  Out of These Waters [7.9k] + That Shore Up Above [will be continued TBD] Gender Bend Mermaid AU

One-Shots

Into Cursed Pixie Dust [9k] morally grey Winter Soldier, smut, tw: infidelity, tw: slightly dub con

Poison Blood from the Wound of the Pricked Hand [3k] Post TFATWS!Bucky, sultry but not smutty

Silent Screams in Wildest Dreams [8k] dark, ignore Endgame/Steve stays, smut, unhappy ending

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays [3.6k]  modern AU, smut

He Bought a Studio [4.3k] Bucky x Natasha ignore Endgame Steve stays, 5 times x 1 time, smut and fluff

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have [2k] DARK FIC, dark!Wanda + Bucky x gender neutral!Reader, non-con/dub-con smut

Parking Lot Chem [6.7k]  modern AU, raunchy!Bucky, smut, hook up culture

The Pool Party Op [1.2k] post-TFATWS Bucky, smut

Meet Cute [2.2k]  modern AU, first piece in the Trader James Collection

Saturday Night Movie Marathon [2.4k] modern au, smut

Don’t Blame Me [<1k] smut, tw: infidelity

All the Pieces Fall [3.4k] unidentified male main character x female!reader modern AU, second chance, smut

Drabbles

Bound demon!Bucky x female!reader, smut, monster fucking

Tactics [650] TFATWS era Bucky, character study

Crimson Mornings [500] Bucky Barnes x female!Reader x Ari Levinson, smut

taking care of Bucky after a mission [400] gn!Reader insert, fluff

Christmas Eve Eve[1.1k] gn!Reader insert, fluff

Coffee Shop Meet-Cute Request [1.1k] post-TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader, fluff

Imagines, Thoughts, etc.

Nose-brush forehead kisses  post-TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader, fluff

Other Sebastian Stan Characters...

Nick Fowler, God the Bounty Hunter

[huellitaa]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨ feeling uncomfy in ur own skin

ok so this is something ive been struggling with for years. like i wake up some days and just feel Eugh way more than id like to. SO i decided i'd make a little guide on this! for me and for you 🩷✨

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 reasons why we could be feeling uncomfortable with ourselves and who we are

♡ having a shitty mental diet and consuming media and things that make you feel bad abt urself

♡ being in an environment where we're constantly being judged or put down, even over the most basic things

♡ hanging around negative people or negative places

♡ not giving urself enough credit for ur own achievements and accomplishments

♡ changing urself constantly for others and not having a clear sense of self to hold on to

♡ not having boundaries on how you and others treat you

♡ staying stagnant in the same place in your life and not changing (🎀🗒️also read: get comfy being uncomfy ♡)

♡ not paying enough attention to yourself and avoiding your genuine thoughts, feelings and emotions

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. be gentle with yourself!

pleasepleaseplease its ok to have bad days its ok to not feel great every day. treat yourself as you would someone you love. if you just aren't feeling good today, then you aren't feeling good! honour that and respect that and deal with that accordingly. even if you are uncomfortable with yourself right now or you don't like yourself right now, please try and treat yourself with care regardless, because no matter what stage you are in in your life right now you are and always will be the most important person in ur life, so TREAT URSELF LIKE IT🫶💖

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. inspiration, not comparison!

i know its often told not to go looking at people who are ahead of you in these times but hear me out. i think looking at and observing people you admire who are further ahead of you is very motivating to build yourself up and *become more like them* in your own way. you look up to them because of ___? what can you do to become your own version of that? thinking like this gets me more inspired to just get out of bed because i want to be more like them.

two words for this one - NO. COMPARISON. gaining inspiration from others to better yourself and comparing yourself to others are two completely different things. 🫶 (shameless self promo, but i have a post on this here! 🩷✨)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. analysis: detective work chapter!

journal and think and think to urself why u might feel like this or what caused this. when did it start? has anything happened lately that may have caused this? how does it feel, in depth? what can you do to combat this? how can you make it through the day & make it so you do even better tomorrow?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. channeling the mindset!

back to my point on our idols, thinking like them & thinking what they'd do in this situation helps me a lot. personally one of my idols is ada lovelace so whenever im really tired and unmotivated or insecure on my abilities or appearance or anything else i think to myself "what would she do?" and 9 times out of 10 im up at my desk in my cutest outfit hard at work. this is def one of my favourite points and something i use on the daily for like literally everything and 100% recommend 🩷✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. what would i do?

similarly, ask urself what the best version of yourself or the version of urself youre working towards would do in this situation. be your own inspiration. be ur own muse. would they stay in bed and rot all day? if the answer is no then ur up. out. immediately. ask urself what they would do. if ur feeling drained, would they take a day off to do some self care and recharge? if ur feeling sad, would they be gentle with themselves and let themselves feel sad for a little while & try to work to the root of the problem?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. understanding yourself!

make a list of the things that make you the happiest and most comfortable & productive and the things that make you the unhappiest and the opposite of those things. i mentioned this in my recharge day post, but figuring out these will help you find out which negative behaviours or habits are lowering ur vibrations and making u feel like this, and help u to engage more in the things that make you happy with yourself and everything around you 💗✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. pay attention!

pay close attention to ur internal landscape and your self talk throughout the day. note down every little thing you notice, even if you think it won't be helpful; for example, do you find yourself indulging in negative talk abt urself, negative talk abt others, constantly being pessimistic and expecting the worst, indulging in judgement and criticism of urself and everyone around you, getting distracted easily, and so on.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. what would i do, part 2

like i mentioned earlier, you should be your own inspiration. you should be your own muse. as much as it's nice to have idols, when ur trying to change something about urself and adjust and improve ur own behaviours, you should be mainly focusing on what you want to achieve by changing said behaviours. do you know who you're working towards being? do you know how you want to feel? do you know what you are changing these things you feel into? think about whether or not the person you are now lines up with the person you want to be in all aspects of ur life. if you feel like you aren't even trying to meet these standards then of course ur gonna feel bad about urself. of course don't be too hard on urself, but keep this in mind. 💓✨

finally, remember that these things are temporary and it wont be like this forever. ur beautiful and perfect no matter what and in these times u gotta show up for yourself even more and never give up! i believe in u 🫶🩷

all my love 💗💬✨🎀

[immortalmsmoon]

Naruto General Headcanons

A/N: i have quite a bit of requests but i have no motivation to write person 5 I'm so sorryyyyy it might be a while before i post them. if you have any other requests though please make sure to send something in!

Cast Line Up- Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi

Naruto~

This kid has SO MUCH energy, but at a certain point in the evening he crashes so hard. Like you cannot get him to do ANYTHING because he's half asleep. 

Has broken his arm twice. The first time when he was like 6 he fell off a tree while he was climbing it. The second time he was splashing paint on the great faces and as he was coming down he hit his hand on the ground too hard. 

When he can’t sleep he sits on the roof of his apartment complex and stays there for a while, usually until the sun rises. 

Likes to paint his nails frequently, usually bright colours, a big fan of bright oranges and greens.

Never has chapped lips. No matter how dry out it is he just never gets them.

After the chunin exams he holds a deep adoration for Neji, because he was able to change his point of view and become better and stronger, and Naruto finds it really impressive. 

Sasuke~

Likes to draw, while he was in the academy he often found himself doodling on his work. If someone ever approached him about it he would deny them and tell them they were seeing things. 

Sometimes when he feels really alone, he likes to turn on his TV for background noise and deep cleans/rearranges his bedroom. He does this usually once a month.

Can play guitar, and does sometimes. It reminds him a lot of his family, specifically Itachi, so he usually keeps it locked in the back of his closet. 

A very avid reader. Has tons and tons of books.

Loves to stargaze. Spends a lot of nights, especially rough ones when he feels alone, watching the stars, usually in a tree or clearing. 

After he left the village, for the first few months he actually missed being there, and missed Naruto and Sakura’s theatrics. He got over himself pretty quickly though. 

Sakura~

VERY good at makeup, but because she's a ninja she rarely gets a chance to do it, because she usually sweats it off. 

Used to wish her hair was blonde because Ino has blonde hair, and she was incredibly popular. 

Very very flexible. 

Also has a very large sweet tooth, and will take most sweet food over savoury or sour food. Can also handle spice VERY well. 

Her legs are stronger than her arms, and she tends to use them more in training and combat. One of her favourite people to train with is Tenten.

Kakashi~

Hates ramen. Cannot stand it. It's been like that since he was a kid, and honestly he's not sure why, he just really cannot stand it. 

Has very nice hands. They are usually fairly soft because he hates how his hands feel when they're dry. 

Once tried to read a book that wasn’t Make Out Paradise and couldn’t even get past the second chapter. 

Very lazy. His ideal day is staying inside his house in a comfy robe and soft slippers reading the day away.

Insomniac, and very good at hiding it. His bags aren’t obvious, and if they are he covers them up with makeup.

Hates being fussed over, but secretly likes to fuss over other people. He can’t really help it, he’s just lost so many people that he has to fuss over the people he loves.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 7: Heaven's Happiness

Note: As always, the love this story receives amazes me. Thank you so much for reading. Thank you for the notes, the reblogs, the comments and messages. Interacting makes this so much fun! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There will be a lot more time skips from here on out! So you'll all get to know the gang as adults. I will ask that if anyone wants to use my story as inspo for one of your own, or anything else, you let me know, it's more fun that way. I also don't post this or any of my other stuff anywhere else. Once again, hi to my best friend who now reads this story, love you miss girl <3 Anywayyy, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading <3

Taglist:@spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

Warnings: Some strong language

“She’s very gifted, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. The best I’ve seen at this age in my career. You could have a professional dancer on your hands.”

The three adults watch from the observing window as Heaven demonstrates Grand Adage for a group of her peers. Her little back straight and stomach tight as she accomplishes the move with a stern discipline that many adults struggle to achieve. 

“We know. So why is she playing Clara?” 

“Beatrice-”

“I’m just wondering, Luca, I mean I just believe it’s our right as her parents to ask Madame Sidorov why our 9 year old daughter is teaching the snowflakes that are twice her age the dance she doesn’t get to be a part of.” 

Madame Sidorov swallows hard as she brings her clipboard to her chest. She’s been running her youth dance company for over 20 years. Many of her dancers have gone on to be successful, working artists. But she’d never seen talent like Heaven Whitlock. The girl came into her studio at the age of 6, excited to show her that she already knew how to go en pointe even though children really shouldn’t and normally couldn’t do it until they were 11. Madame Sidorov had been overcome with excitement. She had a star on her hands. 

The older woman also learned that Beatrice Whitlock also knew what she had. The teacher has dealt with gunner parents before, but none like the stern young woman who trailed in behind her prodigy daughter with her nose in the sky and demands on her tongue. 

“Mrs. Whitlock, Clara is the lead role in the Nutcracker-”

“Bullshit, Sidorov, we both know that the prima dancer role is the Sugar Plum Fairy and the arguably most complicated dance is the Waltz of the Snowflakes, the dance you had my daughter demonstrating yesterday. So,” Beatrice’s heels click as she shifts her weight from one leg to another, hip jutting out. “Why is your best dancer playing the dumb little girl who spends most of the ballet watching everyone else dance?”

“I think my wife is frustrated because we all know our daughter is talented. So we’re having a hard time understanding why those talents aren’t being showcased.” Luca cuts, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist in an attempt to calm her. 

“Heaven is only 9. We need to allow the older dancers to play the more advanced roles-” 

“Then they should be better.” Beatrice interrupts, swinging her purse over her shoulder, pushing her shades up onto her head. “How about this, until your priorities are straight, we can take Heaven somewhere where things are fair and you can dust off your pointe shoes and start teaching again instead of using my child.”

“But, all of my friends go there.” Heaven whines as they speed their way down the highway for the hour drive back to their home. “I don’t want to find another studio.”

“I know, Stellina, but we want you to have every opportunity. Wouldn’t you want more chances to dance?”

Heaven is stubbornly silent in the backseat, her step father softly pats her foot, reaching back from the driver seat. Her mother turns to face her, a noncommittal look on her face. “Baby, when you came to Mommy a couple years ago, what did you say you wanted to be when you grew up?”

The younger girl bites her lip, tugging irritably at her seatbelt. “A ballerina.”

“Just a ballerina?”

Heaven huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, looking away from her mother. “The best ballerina ever.”

“The best ballerina. Ever. And Mommy and Papino have worked very hard to make that possible for you, yes? Practice everyday, paying for lessons, buying you everything you need. But you’re a big girl now. You’re going to have to learn how to work very hard too if you want to be the best, baby. We can only take you part of the way. You need to think super hard about whether this is what you want. You need to think about if you’re going to earn it.”

Beatrice’s voice is soft and kind, but her words are harsh. She turns around, not waiting for a response from her daughter, satisfied that her whines and complaints had quieted to obedient, stifled little sniffles. 

Heaven stares down at her hands through wet lashes, her bottom lip wobbling as she smothers her sadness. She does want it. She wants to be the best ballerina ever. She is going to be the best ballerina ever. And she’s grateful. Papino and Mommy had given a lot. And she won’t disappoint them. So she’d go to a new dance studio. She would make new friends. And if not, that wasn’t what she was there for. 

Luca Whitlock frowns as he drums his finger on the steering wheel, looking forward at the traffic ahead of them. “How about some ice cream, Stellina? Might cheer you up?” 

Identical sets of brown eyes meet in the rearview mirror. The little girl in the backseat simply sinks against the leather, forcing indifference into her voice. “No thank you, Papino, I’m…not hungry.”

“And you have your, um,” Heaven scratches her head, mentally scrolling through the list of items Tashi would need at home. She was going to spend the first few weeks post-knee surgery with her parents. Heaven had stayed with her girlfriend for the days following the injury, lying to her school and telling them she had a death in the family that required her to take some time away. She just wanted to get Tashi settled before she headed back to UCLA. 

The dancer had assumed that their boyfriend would emerge out of the shadows, and use his charm to weasel out of an apology, ultimately taking over Tashi’s care since he had the most free time.

Unfortunately, he continued to disappoint her. So, instead, she lingered. Slept in Tashi’s bed with her, unwrapped and rewrapped her knee. Cleaned her dorm, brought her any work she missed. The girls in the athletic dorm thought she’d moved in. But now, Tashi’s parents were here to take her home for a little while. 

“I have everything, Hev, you made sure of that.” 

Her heart aches. Tashi sounds so tired. So down. Heaven is so frustrated. She’s ready to move past this part. She wants Tashi to just be better. She tells herself over and over that the surgery would fix it. That once she got the treatment she needs and a little physical therapy, she’d be back to where she was, ready to take over the world with her. 

“I’ll see you when we open, right? You’re still gonna come?” Heaven rocks on her feet, careful not to bump Tashi’s crutch. “You don’t have to, you’ve seen me do most of the dances and I know it might be hard to travel-”

“Babe, I’ll be there. Okay? I need to go.” Tashi lifts Heaven’s chin, giving her a halfhearted peck before turning to climb into her dad’s truck, gesturing for Heaven to stop when she goes to try helping her into the high seated vehicle. “I’ll call you. Why don’t you have Art help you get your stuff from my room? He probably wants to say goodbye.”

“T, are we gonna talk more about that-”

“I told you,” Tashi shrugs, hand on the car door handle, her pajama pants poorly covering the large brace on her knee. “M’not mad. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Heaven isn’t stupid. Ever since Tashi and Patrick found out that she’d done…stuff with Art, Patrick has been radio silent, and all Tashi does is encourage Heaven to spend more time with Art who she was decidedly avoiding. She’d gotten…caught up in the infirmary. The combination of the heightened emotions and Art’s soft attention and care caused another moment of weakness. She’d accidentally said something that she’d been denying to herself ever since, and thanking the good lord above that Art had apparently missed. She was determined not to tempt fate for a…fourth time?

Which is why she’d gone back to Tashi’s room and started packing her stuff and straightening up without alerting the blond tennis player who’d been haunting her dreams as of late. And it’s also why she almost pissed herself when he’d somehow materialized in the dorm room doorway, rapping his knuckles against the light wood, in a failed attempt not to startle her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but, um, Tashi texted me and said you might need some help getting this stuff to your car.” 

He looks good. She can’t ignore that, but she can refuse to get caught up in staring at him as he leans in the doorway, muscled arms on full display as he leans in the frame, a poorly hidden pout on his face. 

“I’m good.” Heaven shrugs, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder, trying to lift her purse and her other two bags at the same time, only to have all of her belongings fall out of her purse. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, let me help you.” Art bends and starts grabbing the miscellaneous items from her bag.

“I can do it-”

“It’ll be quicker-”

“Art.” She huffs, tucking her hair behind her ears and sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “I meant it, when I said that I was done…Tashi might be trying to teach me a lesson in some kind of twisted way, and I’m sorry you’re getting mixed up in it, but I’m…I can’t be around you and be with her at the same time. Clearly, I can’t handle boundaries.”

“So…so what does that mean? Not talking at all? Is that what you want?” He asks, shoulders dropping, eyes filled with hurt as he inches closer. “Heaven-”

“Sure. If that’s what it takes for it to get you to get I can’t do” she gestures between them. “This, then fine, let’s say that’s what I want.” 

Art clenches his jaw, blinking quickly as he tries to think something he could say. Anything to change her mind. “Heaven, please, I’ll…we’d be friends. We can just, I can’t…please don’t.” he finishes, giving up on trying to articulate his thoughts through his panicked haze. Through all of this back and forth, chasing and running, he’d forgotten the chance that once Patrick was out of the picture, that he might get written out too. 

His eyes scan her face as she shakes her head, shoving the last of her stuff back into her purse and standing. “Art, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you. But stuff is getting too complicated. This shit is just too much. I haven’t been back to my school in days, Tashi’s leg is fucked and I don’t want to make things any harder for her, Patrick is just fucking gone and I really can’t handle anything more. So when you say we can be friends, I need you to mean it. I need you to tell me we can do that.”

Art finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He wants to be honest. He wants to acknowledge that he can’t see himself getting over her within the foreseeable future. He wants to tell her that he’s glad she’s probably not with Patrick anymore, and as bad as he feels about Tashi’s leg, he quite frankly does not understand why it has to change anything between them. 

But he’s desperate. Art is humiliated to admit it to himself but, he would do anything to keep the line of communication between him and Heaven open so if he had to appease her by saying that they would be platonic despite the fact that he quite literally gets dizzy standing next to her, fine. Like he’d told himself before, he was playing the long game, collecting the points that matter. So, offering her a tight smile, Art sticks his large hand out to her, encasing her smaller one and jumping to stand at his full height. “Friends. But, friends don’t ignore each other for days, Hev.” 

Heaven bites her lower lip, choosing to ignore the blue-brown eyes that drop to her mouth before looking back up at her and shaking his hand. “Okay. Yeah.” The pair slowly pull their hands apart, Heaven shivers as she feels the calluses on his palm slide across her hand. “As my friend, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is,” the girl rolls her eyes to the ceiling, releasing a heavy sigh. “Is she done? You saw it, and you obviously know more than me…is that something she can keep playing with her knee like that?”

He can’t bring himself to dash the hope she was clearly harboring on the behalf of Tashi but the girl’s recovery is…unlikely. Art tucks his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as he chooses his words carefully. “Tashi’s strong, and really fucking good, if anyone is going to recover from that kind of injury, it’s her.”

“So…no.” Heaven sits down on Tashi’s bed, staring forward at the wall that’s littered with pictures of some of the best tennis players in the world. A shaky breath leaves her as she stares at the professional posters, accompanied by the posters Adidas had made with Tashi on them. 

“You’re a really good girlfriend.” Art whispers.

“I cheated on her with you. I’m pretty much the worst girlfriend ever.”

“No, I mean, you’re really invested in her. In the thing she loves, like you care about tennis the same way we do, f-for her.” 

Heaven smiles softly to herself, grabbing Tashi’s pillow and hugging it to her body. “I fell in love with Tashi watching her play tennis. Just like everyone else does.” she jokes, poking Art’s leg with her toe. “When I’m watching her, it’s like I’m getting to witness something. It’s…corny but tennis is her calling. She goes to some other little world when she’s playing, and, even though I’m not a tennis player, she takes me with her. It’s this feeling of closeness that I can’t get anywhere else, you know?” Or at least, nowhere else I’m willing to talk about.

He does know. Art does know exactly what she’s talking about. He felt it. Once, when he and Patrick sat and watched Tashi play for the first time. It’s an all encompassing feeling. He was so caught up in watching her every move that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at Tashi. If he’d just looked three rows in front of him he’d have seen the girl in front of him now. 

The second time, the feeling was more intense, more of a sensation than a mere feeling. It was when he was sitting in an empty theater, watching Heaven dance, just for him. Art had never felt the things he’d felt before. He’d never had the thoughts he thought. He’d held his breath for the entire minute and 26 seconds that she gave him. He sat on the edge of the red, fabric auditorium seat, scared to blink and get left behind. He wanted to capture the feeling and keep it forever. And he has. He’s kept it. And everytime she gives him another taste, a smile, a kiss, a laugh, a touch, he goes back to being alone in the theater, experiencing euphoria for the very first time. 

If that’s the feeling Tashi gives Heaven, then he’s very jealous. And he wants it.

And that’s another new feeling the girls introduced him to. He’d never wanted something like her…or…uh them. 

Jealousy. Longing. Needing. 

Art knew exactly what Patrick was talking about when he said he liked seeing him fired up about something. Because, as much as he loves tennis, it didn’t make his blood boil. It didn’t make his stomach muscles clench with intensity. He didn’t feel that satisfying nervous burn. Not until…

Art needs to test a theory.

He scratches the back of his head, looking down at his sneakers before clearing his throat. “Uh, so, Hev, I’ve got a match this afternoon. And, I know things are weird right now, so you might think I’m a dick for even asking-”

“Arthur.”

“Come watch me play.” He blurts. Heaven’s eyes widen and he finds himself taking a tentative step forward as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I don’t know, I just figured…I mean, you might miss watching someone play, with Tashi taking a break and Patrick being…himself.” When Heaven continues to look unsure, Art puts himself out there again, trying to entice her the way he knows how. He moves to stand in front of where she’s seated on the bed, crouching to be just below her level. “When I win it will be for you. I’d like you to be there.” Art carefully tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, before grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger, moving her face around playfully. “As a friend.”

As a friend. That’s exactly what Heaven repeats to herself, over and over when she carries her bags over to the tennis courts, placing one foot onto the metal bleacher and opting to sit in the seats down on the front to rows. Just so she can see better. And it’ll be easier to slip out before the match is over. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to sit with the women’s tennis players towards the top. All she could think of when she saw them was that it should have been one of their legs cracking instead of Tashi’s and it didn’t exactly make her feel like a great person. 

She slips into the seat and crosses her legs, struggling as she pushes her overnight bag under the low seat.

“Hey, let me help you.” A blonde girl crouches beside her, pushing along with Heaven and getting the back underneath. 

“Oh,” Heaven offers her a bright smile. “Thanks, I have to head back to my school after this so I have all my shit with me, didn’t think I was gonna come.”

“No problem,” the girl chirps, plopping down into the seat next to Heaven. “Sara. Myles’ girlfriend, he’s playing after this first match. Whose girlfriend are you?”

Tashi’s name is on the tip of her tongue. She swears it is. But the girl is clearly talking about the players that were starting to filter in, with their red shirts that Heaven could see fitting Art perfectly from her seat. His blond curls flopping as his head moves side to side, she knows he’s looking for her. Heaven gives a soft wave to catch his attention and can’t help but match his smile when he spots her, waving back. “I’m not dating a player.”

“Well these are girlfriend seats, so don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” Sara says lightly, pulling her shades down over her eyes. 

Heaven turns to look at her, tearing her eyes away from Art stretching. “What the hell are girlfriend seats?”

“They’re seats…where girlfriends sit?” The girl sits up to get a pixelated picture of her boyfriend on her razor. “You know, the players’ girls sit, so they can see them. No wonder I don’t recognize you, you’re a plant.”

“I’m Heaven, I don’t go here, I’m just watching my friend before I go back to UCLA.” 

“Oh, shit,” Sara’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re Donaldson’s girl right? Myles’ cousin Kyle, trust me I know the names kill me too, but he was saying how Donaldson brought his hot girlfriend out with them the other night and was dick trying to show off for her.” 

“Again, we’re friends, m’not his girl.”

“Hey, Hev!” Sara ducks her head, watching out of her peripheral as Art jogs over, racket in hand, pushing up onto the fence so he could be eye level with Heaven. “Match is about to start, kiss for good luck?” He grins, holding his racket handle out to her. He playfully pouts until she gives in, leaning forward and pressing her glossed lips to the handle, looking at Art through her lashes. The blond wets his bottom lip and pulls the racket back. “Eyes on me, okay?” 

“Whatever, just remember you promised me a win.” Heaven giggles, crossing her arms as she settles back into her seat. Art beams even wider, hopping down off of the fence and jogging backwards back to where the players sit. “And spit out your gum!”

Faintly, she could hear Art’s teammates reprimanding him for ‘making the rest of them look bad’ and she smiles to herself, bringing a hand up to play with her name chain.

“Girl.” Sara snorts.

“Just friends.”

“Yeah sure.” the blonde girl shrugs, pushing her shades back down. “Don’t tell me, tell Donaldson.”

Art delivers a win, as promised. It wasn’t hard, really. One thing Patrick had gotten right was that college kids weren’t really much competition. And maybe he had some very good motivation sitting out in the crowd with her eyes locked on him. So he showed off a little, served a little harder, made the other guy run a little bit more than necessary. He could always explain that away as wanting to impress his coach and any possible reps looking to endorse him. And sure, he might’ve looked over at her for each point he wrenched out of the poor guy from Temple’s hands but…well he didn’t have an excuse for that other than it gave him a rush knowing that she is sitting pretty, legs crossed, perched with the other girlfriends, watching him, rooting for him, breathing heavy for him. 

When matchpoint is declared his, Art smiles cockily, strolling up to the net and shaking hands with his opponent before making his way over to Heaven again, this time climbing completely over the fence, leaving behind his tennis bag on the opposite side of the court. This time she stands, catching him a little as he lands in the small space in front of her and the fence. “Well?” he pants, lifting his hat to adjust his hair before placing it back on his head. 

“Well, what? You want me to say congratulations?” Heaven grins, sweeping some sweat that dripped from his forehead off of his cheek. “Congratulations, Arthur.” she hums.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” Sarah calls from her seat, smiling smugly up at the pair. “Good job, Donaldson. Why don’t you try to pass some of that mojo to Myles, huh? Getting kinda tired of coming out to these things just to watch you play.”

“I’ve got a lucky charm, that’s all.” Art nudges Heaven, wrapping an arm around her waist so she doesn’t stumble too far away from him.

“Yeah, so, lucky, or the other guy sucks and Art is good-”

“No, I think you’re my lucky charm, don’t try to ruin it-” Art laughs, taking his hat off again, his messy blond hair falling all over as he places it on Heaven’s head, holding her to him as she squirms.

“Ew, Arthur, it's sweaty!”

“It’s the fruit of my labor, Hev, that win was for you!”

Sarah scoffs, shaking her head as she watches the pair, leaning away to avoid getting hit when Art lifts Heaven, swinging her to the opposite side of him to help her get to the steps before grabbing her bags. As she sees him guide her by her waist down the bleachers, both of them cheesing as they chat as if no one else was there and she realizes that Art is leaving the courts before his fellow teammates play, Sarah commends her own instincts.

And then she makes a note to herself to start saving the returning girlfriend seat next to hers for Heaven. The other girls were sort’ve bitches, anyway.

“So, I should head back.” Heaven leans back against the driver door of her car, clasping her hands together behind her. “But, this got my mind off of things for a little, so thank you.”

“It’s what friends are for.” Art laughs, stepping in front of her, hand behind his neck.

“Pft, you’re such a dick. Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”

“I am nice.” he smiles, rocking on his feet, feeling his chest tighten as Heaven bites her rose petal bottom lip again. His eyes soften as he stares down at her delicate features and thinks about how right things feel when they’re together. How he hasn’t felt this good in…ever. “So nice, I���m not gonna say what I want to say. I’m just gonna say,” he takes her hand gently, toying with her fingers, pushing her thumb with his own, “goodnight.”

Heaven’s lips part, and looking up into his eyes, how kindly he looks down at her. What she can see in them almost does it. She almost got lost, just like that. But a buzz in her jacket pocket has her grabbing her phone and the message has her taking a small step backward and placing her hand on her door handle. “Goodbye, Art.”

“One two three, one two three, and Peter please keep up with Heaven, Heaven a little less hatred on your face, thank you, two three and up, I want her in the air-” Madame Fontaine claps her hands to the pace of the movements she wants from her two leads, following them as they move across the floor. Heaven holds her breath as she’s lifted into the air for two counts before she’s slid down Peter’s body, draping herself across him romantically as he kneels to accommodate her. “Yes, that is exactly it. Now kiss.”

Heaven feels herself wince, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels Peter’s lips press against hers.

“Still doesn’t look good, Madame.” Fallon calls from her seat. 

“No, no it doesn’t, does it? You two, what’s the issue, tu veux m'humilier et me faire me suicider ou quoi?”

“No, Madame,” Heaven huffs, swatting Peter’s hand away from her waist. “We don’t want to humiliate you or make you kill yourself, I don’t understand why we have to do the version with the kiss, there are plenty of variations without it-”

“You understood her?” Peter squints at the girl next to him before huffing, “Fine, whatever, MacMillan intended for there to be passion between Romeo and Juliet, and you curl your lip up everytime I kiss you.”

“I don’t like doing it.” Heaven shrugs. “I’m a professional dancer, not a porn star, and I’m playing a 15 year old girl, I don’t know why any sane, adult audience would want to watch me lay on top and kiss a grown man and then kill myself to be with him-”

“We open tonight. We are doing the ballet as we rehearsed, you two will kiss and you will tolerate it. Practice if you must, pretend he’s someone else, take a shot before you do it, I don’t care.”

“Madame, we’re 19.”

“Oh please.” The older woman storms off, her assistant behind her and the two dancers are left side by side. 

“So…should we practice?”

“Absolutely fucking not, thank you very much.” Heaven pushes past Peter, snatching her dance bag from the floor. “You’re gonna practice until your knees bleed for the next hour and then you’re gonna soak in the athletic building so you’re actually ready for tonight and I’m gonna go…I don’t know, pray.” 

As Heaven storms away, dramatically slamming the theater door behind her, she can recognize she was in a bitchy mood. She felt like she had a lot of shit to be annoyed about and was frankly pissed to feel her world collapsing around her on the first night of her first college role in which she’s the fucking prima. 

First, she once again demonstrated to herself that she has absolutely no fucking self control when it comes to Art Donaldson, a truth that she’s learned about herself that really agitates her. She discovered this as she struggled into the routine of only responding to the blond every couple of days and found herself sitting up in the privacy of her own dorm, reading and rereading every message she sent, the bright light of her phone shining brightly on her shame.

Second, she still hadn’t heard from her boyfriend (ex?), Patrick. She’d watched a couple of his matches while she was on the treadmill at the gym and as he does, he wins the first two rounds only to lose in the third. He found time to get lazy in his tennis playing but failed to pick up his goddamn phone and call either of his girlfriends.

Which leads to the third thing haunting her. Tashi is fucking irritable as shit. Apparently, surgery does not agree with her, because Tashi had been crabby for the last few days. It started with the day of Art’s match when she’d sent her perfectly timed message. 'Did he win?' It was like she was taunting her. Like Tashi knew Heaven couldn't stay away. It pisses Heaven off even more that she was right. Then Tashi had moved on to venting about how Patrick was absolutely wasting his talent, how the fact that he’s not winning pisses her off even more now that she can’t play. How she’s going pro as soon as she gets the chance because if this injury told her anything, it was that there was no time to wait. How now that she’s got time on her hands, she’s been thinking more about her plan for her life and Heaven’s.

And lastly, the real kicker, what had Heaven gritting her teeth as she did bar warmups this morning, was that fucking phone call. The one from her mother that she received at 5:00am when she was stretching. The one where her mother said she wouldn’t be able to make it to her first night of her first ballet in college in which she’s the fucking prima. And when she expressed her disappointment, Beatrice responded ‘It’s just a school ballet, I’ll come to your first professional one.’ 

So, yep, she was in a shitty fucking mood. 

But she wouldn’t let all of that stop her debut as an adult dancer. She was going to be a pro, she was going to do it her way, even if the 5 seats she had reserved in the front row were empty. 

So, she sits at the vanity backstage, putting her hair into Juliet’s first hairstyle. She listens to music that reminds her of when she was 15 to get into the right headspace as she puts blush on her cheeks. She offers Peter a soft smile when she sees him in his costume and forces herself to try to look at him the right way. Because the things that are pissing her off don’t matter right now. Right now, all there is is Juliet.

It doesn’t matter if Heaven’s smile is fake as the lights shine down on her when she first prances her way onto the stage. Juliet’s smile is real. It’s meaningless if Heaven’s tears are real when she squints and sees that her mother’s seat is indeed empty, her stepfather attempting to send her a thumbs up to distract from the woman’s absence. And so what, if Heaven can’t go to her happy place as she solos because she sees both Patrick and Tashi’s seats are empty as well. As long as she can still breezily get through her motions, as long as it looks beautiful for the crowd, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter.

And it definitely doesn’t matter, that as she came out of her fake balcony in her sleep gown to blow everyone’s minds with the most loving, fucking passionate pas de deux they’d ever seen, she accidentally caught eyes with Art in the audience, staring up at her intensely. 

So she doesn’t have to feel guilty that when she kissed Peter, she envisioned him with curly blond hair and heterochromatic eyes. Or the fact that Madame Fontaine told her when she stepped off stage to change into her next costume that it was the most romantic, realistic kiss she’d ever seen.

Does Art know he's stupid? Absolutely. He's never dared call himself intelligent. He didn't need the little voice that sounds like Patrick calling him pussywhipped. He knows. But, he still found himself on the highway, traveling at a breakneck speed, eyeing the bouquet of flowers that he has placed in the seat.

He'd known Heaven was serious about this whole friend thing. She's so good, and kind. And she cares so much about Tashi and Patrick. But Art knows he can treat her better. He's sure of it. Despite what he knows to be true, Art refuses to pressure her...anymore. He'd just rely on the fact that if they were supposed to be together like he believed they should be, they would be. Eventually. Soon. Hopefully.

So he came fully ready to play the dutiful friend. He was gonna stand politely by as Heaven leapt into Patrick's arms after the show. Art was gonna smile politely as she and Tashi shared kisses and exchanged giggles as they talked about inside jokes that they only understood. But then he got there. He'd been directed to the front where the two premier dancers families were arranged to sit and found three empty seats separating him from a man with peppered hair and smart looking glasses who had his own bouquet of flowers across his lap and a Chanel gift bag next to his feet. As he inches into his seat the man looks at him with a smile.

"You must be Patrick. I'm Heaven's stepfather, Luca Whitlock, I'm sorry I missed you at her birthday." The older man holds his hand out to Art with a kind smile. "Nice to meet you."

Art offers him his own awkward grin, accepting the tight squeeze of the man's hand. "Uh, no, I'm Heaven's friend, Art. It's really nice to meet you Mr. Whitlock."

"You as well." The man lifts his wrist to check his watch. "Show is meant to start in a few minutes, hopefully he will be here shortly. Stellina won't like for her boyfriend to be late.

Art shifts uncomfortably again, checking his phone. Patrick had reached out to him a couple days after Tashi's injuries. Mostly to make insults thinly veiled as jokes, clearly still pissed that he yelled at him. Art responded with short, one worded messages.

It's the least they'd ever spoken since they'd met.

The guilt he feels for his part in this fight they were having is very real. But it was currently heavily outweighed by his annoyance at the fact that his friend was seemingly punishing Heaven by not showing up for her big night. He knew Patrick didn't deserve her, and he was only proving his point.

"Is Tashi with Mrs. Whitlock or..."

"Oh, my, my wife couldn't make it. And Tashi is still...healing. Her mother called right before I was supposed to pick her up."

Oh. "Oh."

As much as he's glad he could be here for Heaven, he knows that Tashi and her mother being there would mean more. His heart aches for her as he settles back into his seat and the lights dim. The pain he feels for her only intensifies when he sees her step out onto the stage. She's beautiful. The perfect Juliet. If anyone would make a man fall in love within a few glances, ready to die at the thought of not being with her, Heaven would be it.

Her eyes are sad as she eyes the empty seats, using them as a tragic point of focus as she completes her expert turns. Behind him he could hear people whispering about how gorgeous the girl playing Juliet was, how talented she is. All Art can think is that they have no idea. They don't know how she's managing to be so elegant, so beautiful, so perfect, even as she's in the type of pain she's in.

Art would do anything to bring the light back into her eyes so they would shine the way the rest of her was.

He loves her.

He knows it. He feels it as her eyes finally make their way to his seat and her smile is a little more real. A little bit of light slips back into her eyes. She dances even more beautifully, more genuinely than before. And his mind is filled with the same thought.

Yes baby, that's right. Eyes on me. I'll make it better. I'll make you happy.

And he means it. Friends or not. Lovers or not.

It's on Heaven's first night of her first ballet in college where she's the fucking prima ballerina that Art makes a vow to himself.

He was gonna dedicate himself to Heaven Whitlock's happiness. No matter what that meant.

3 Years Later (California)(Age: 22):

Tashi shakes her head to herself as she watches Art pace in the kitchen. She brings her coffee to her lips, blowing at the smoke slowly as she observes him from the couch, taking a small sip before setting the mug loudly on the glass coffee table. She rolls her eyes when he doesn’t stop his steadily paced steps across the floor.  “You good?”

The blond finally pauses to look at her, jaw clenching and unclenching before he opens his mouth to speak. “This is just different, you know?”

“How? It’s still tennis.” 

“It’s pros, Tashi, I’m just nervous.” Art says, running his hand through his blond curls. “These guys are good.”

“You’re fucking good.” She asserts, crossing her arms. “Look, I can’t make you believe in yourself. If you can’t do this, please, let me know now, because I need to know if you’re not going to make this happen. We have a deal.” 

Art sighs, planting his hands down on the counter, staring down at the scattered marble with a frown as he tries to get out of his head. Suddenly, he feels a hand slide across his back and an envelope lands on the counter between his hands, into his line of sight.

“Something for you to consider while you decide if you’re gonna fuckin’ play like I know you can.”

With that, Tashi storms out, heels clicking on the hotel room floor and the door beeping as it slams shut behind her. Art stares down at the envelope, reading and rereading the name of the sender.His heart both clenches and races as he thinks about what the 4 little words on the small, insignificant piece of paper could mean for him. How those 4 words and whatever they’re hiding behind them will ruin his life. 

The Paris Opera Ballet