#The book community is in shambles

[shhhsoftnwet]

[youunravelme]

nothing happened in the way i wanted part 1

author's note: okay so let it be known that my FAV emily henry book is happy place (if you want a deep dive into my personality, if you want to know the inner workings of my mind, read the book) SO with that being said, this fic was inspired by that masterpiece. plus i've fallen down a matt rabbit hole as of late. just a warning, this is a LONG ass fic (74 pages and 30.3k words, not a brag, i kinda regret that it's this long bc my brain hurts) so pace yourselves okay? thank you for being the kindest people ever!! this is finished, but tumblr said what i wrote is too long. so i'm posting it in parts lolol.

summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something!

after

despite being back in st. louis for six months, summer still felt like it came too fast. your thighs started sticking to the seats from sweat about three weeks ago. summer used to be your favorite season because it meant you had unlimited access to the love of your life, you weren’t sharing him with his teammates or his crazy schedule.

but he wasn’t yours anymore. matthew hadn’t been yours in six months and some change.

the second you entered your parents’ home, you tossed your keys into the bowl and slid your shoes off. it’d been six months since you moved home, and it still didn’t feel like a space where you belonged. you walked into the living room without so much as a hello from either of your parents, both of whom were posted up on the couch. they weren’t talking to each other, just letting the noise from the news fill the room instead of conversation.

“hey,” you greeted, plopping down in the recliner.

“how was work?” your mom asked.

you shrugged, not quite having the words to convey how mundane it had been. you were working on restoring a piece for this rich couple who lived in the same neighborhood as the tkachuks. it wasn’t in too bad of shape, given the fact that you were the one entrusted to work on it. if it was actually something incredibly complicated, your boss would’ve found someone else more experienced to do it.

when you entered art restoration and conservation, you thought it would be mindless. art had always been an escape for you, a chance to remove yourself from your racing thoughts. you thought that by entering the art conservation field, you could add onto something, enhance the beauty that was lost over the years of damage, instead of creating something from your own experiences.

but no one told you how hard it would be after your breakup, that you would have to learn how to pour bottles of chemical solvent into a glass when your eyes were blurring with tears. no one said anything about how you would spend hours hunched over, fixing the problems in paintings that only served to remind you that while you could mend a masterpiece, you were unable to stop and patch up the problems in your relationship. no one spoke about how you would inevitably relate to the paintings that came to you in shambles, the only difference being that clients would pay thousands of dollars for their paintings to be restored to their former glory, your ex let you fall apart alone in a city where you had no friends outside of the ones you’d made through him.

but how could you communicate that to your mother? to your father? both of whom stayed in an unhappy marriage for the sake of optics? how could you tell them that it’s been months and you were still no more over your ex than the day it ended? how could they understand you? they stayed together out of convenience, out of a fear of ending their marriage only to never find someone else.

it had been six months since your relationship ended, and you were no closer to understanding why.

“just a mundane day,” was all you said instead. “nothing to write home about.”

both of your parents hummed.

“did you have dinner already?” you asked.

“was gonna order pizza,” your dad said.

your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “no alan, we had plans to see chantal and keith tonight for dinner.”

you wanted to throw up.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe some loyalty from your parents? though, they weren’t fully privy to all the information about the demise of your relationship with matt, so maybe you couldn’t expect them to stop hanging out with his parents, especially when said parents were such great people.

“oh,” was all you could say.

“you’re more than welcome to order takeout and watch a movie,” your mom commented, like you needed permission to make yourself at home when you were actively living there. “i’m sure ronald would appreciate your company.”

you glanced at the tabby cat who was perched on his cat tree. personally, you had no issue with ronald, but he liked your mom and your mom only. though on occasion, he would allow your dad to pet him. 

“i’ll figure something out,” you said.

your mom hummed before she stood up to go get ready while your father stayed on the couch. it was only another ten minutes before he got up to change quickly, and another five before they left the house without so much as a goodbye.

before

you were incredibly aware that you didn’t quite fit in. your mom drove you to school in a beat up 1997 toyota camry which looked incredibly out of place among the bmws and audis. your mom offered to walk you in, but she was wearing her scrubs from her night shift and her face looked tired, so you declined the offer and got out of the car yourself.

it shouldn’t have been as daunting as it was, but your old school wasn’t as prestigious as this one. your previous schools in cedar rapids had been public schools. no one was wearing a uniform, and most of the backpacks worn came from the same walmart in your old neighborhood. 

but your parents had decided they wanted a better education for you, even if neither of them had the money to fork out thousands of dollars for a private school. your mom’s parents, however, were loaded. they were more than willing to fork out a small fortune for your schooling under the conditions of your family uprooting your lives to missouri. you were too young to realize what a sacrifice that was, you didn’t notice the snide comments your grandparents made about your father’s choice of career or your mother’s choice in husband.

you didn’t see your grandparents any more than you usually did since you’d moved to missouri two weeks ago. they’d been out of town on a trip to rome up until three days ago and hadn’t reached out to have dinner or hang out at all.

not that you cared at the age of nine, you were more focused on unpacking your room. but now that you were standing in front of the giant school alone, you felt like you should’ve been more concerned with how nice your school supplies were.

a kind woman greeted you at the entrance of the school. she smiled and introduced herself, though you couldn’t hear her over the roaring in your ears. she stood next to a blond haired blue eyed boy who was your height.

“are your parents here?” you weren’t sure how you heard her over the noise in your head.

you shook your head. “my mom had to go home and my dad is at work.”

the woman blinked. “is today your first day?”

“mom, it’s everyone’s first day of school,” the boy groaned.

“i wasn’t talking to you, matthew,” she said, though her eyes never left your own.

“i just moved here,” was all you said, albeit a bit quietly. 

“well, you can walk in with us.” She placed a warm hand on your back and ushered you inside next to her son.

you took notice of her nicer clothing compared to your mom’s scrubs or your dad’s tattered khakis, though the woman’s clothing wasn’t as ostentatious as other parents���.

“do you know your teacher’s name?” the woman asked.

you nodded and showed her the crumpled paper in your hand. the night before, you were wracked with nerves and wrote your teacher’s on a blank sheet of paper and doodled around it. even at nine years old, you were concerned that you’d somehow forget. you couldn’t be more grateful for it now.

the woman’s face lit up. “oh how lucky! matthew look! you’re in the same class.”

matthew for his part, tried to look happy about it, but his eyes kept wandering to the hallways, like he was looking for people he knew. you felt bad for even being in this situation. you missed your friends from iowa and the light up shoes you used to wear before you were given a uniform.

matthew’s mom pointed out the classroom that was supposed to be yours and walked both you and matthew into the room. unlike her son, who immediately found his friends to do elaborate handshakes with, you stayed by her side. she was a stranger, sure, but she was more comforting that the classroom of fifteen other nine and ten year olds.

the woman sighed and bent down a little to look you in the eyes. “it’s gonna be a good day, sweetheart,” she said. “mr. terry is a great teacher, he’s really kind.” you weren’t sure how she would know that, but you weren’t going to call her a liar. “and if you need anything, ask matthew. he’s been going here since kindergarten, okay?”

you nodded.

mr. terry walked over and introduced himself. he had dark skin and a bright smile, showing you to your seat. your name was on a card with fun stickers on it. next to your seat, you saw matthew’s name. now it wasn’t necessarily an unpopular name, there were three matthews in your third grade class, so you weren’t holding out hope that it was going to be the matthew you walked into class with. but two minutes later, he was plopping down into the seat to your left.

matthew looked almost startled to see you sitting next to him, but when the shock wore off he gave you a crooked smile and stuck his hand out. “i’m matt,” he said, like you two didn’t walk into class together.

you shook his hand anyway and gave him a shy smile and told him your name, just in case he didn’t see it written on your desk.

if it was even possible, his smile widened. “pretty name,” he said.

after

you’d watched a movie and half of another one by the time your parents walked through the front door. ronald jumped off the couch to greet your mother while he ignored your father.

“oh,” your dad said. “you’re still up.”

“i’m about to go to bed,” you replied, though you didn’t move from the couch.

“dinner was great,” your mom commented. “chantal and keith said to tell you hello.”

your gut twisted at the mention of their names. you loved his family, you really did, but the mention of the family that was almost yours stung when you looked at how your parents acted like roommates on the best of days.

you remembered summer days spent in the tkachuks’ backyard, watching as matt and brady chased each other while taryn tried her best to keep up. you remembered your dad picking you up from their house, and how you begged the entire ride home for a little brother or sister. he looked at your through the rearview mirror and said “we already achieved perfection, why mess that up?”

but you were grown now. you saw how their marriage barely survived raising you, and they were probably being smart by not risking your upbringing just to have another child.

you bid your parents goodnight and headed up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. it looked less like the office it was converted into when you moved out originally. you didn’t fault your parents for taking advantage of your absence, you, like many people your age, had zero intentions of ever moving back in until an unfortunate set of circumstances happened to you.

and that’s what life had felt like lately:

unfortunate.

unfortunate shit just happening to you.

it wasn't late by any means, but you were surprised when your phone vibrated with a text message. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t really befriended anyone since moving back that had you flinching at the shock of someone other than your parents (or grandparents) texting you.

you unlocked your phone and opened the message, sighing when you read its contents.

emma:

hey girl! just checking in to see if you’re still good for this weekend? no worries if you can’t make it!

you dropped the phone on your stomach and groaned into your hands as soon as they made contact with your face.

years of dating matthew meant you’d grown closer to brady and taryn and by proxy, brady’s fiancée, emma. you’d already committed to being a bridesmaid and bought the dress before your relationship with matt ended. when emma found out, she called immediately and gave you an out, said she wouldn’t take it personal, that she understood if it would be too hard.

but you remembered the countless conversations had about planning your weddings while the both of you watched the loves of your lives try not to kill each other from your spots on the back porch. and you could hear it in her voice, how much it meant to her that you would be there even if she didn’t want to push it on you. it didn’t matter that only one of you was getting the wedding you planned. the bets made on who’d get married first were obsolete now.

you wanted to text her back and say you were busy, but you hadn’t seen her much since her and brady came back in town. when the senators’ season ended in april, he and emma spent some time with her family and attended the playoff games for the panthers. now that the panthers’ season ended two weeks ago, all of the tkachuks were back in town which used to excite you.

now it just filled you with dread.

no, it’s not like you lived in the same tax bracket as matt’s family. you didn’t go to the same grocery stores unless you were tagging along. no, there was a comfortable distance between your neighborhoods and st. louis was filled with two million other people that the odds of running into him were slim.

but your anxiety preferred zero odds rather than a slight chance, and it made the logic that was once screaming at you sound like a small whisper.

you sucked it up anyway, though. seeing emma and the other bridesmaids was better than staying in your room and staring at the ceiling.

you:

i’ll be there! can’t wait!!!

and maybe you used too many exclamation points. maybe you were trying too hard to prove something no one would believe if they took longer than a split second glance at your face. you were a horrible liar, that hadn’t changed. you were just hoping by the time the weekend came around, you’d be too busy to focus on any of the pain.

before

the summer after keith retired, the tkachuks took you and your family on vacation with them to turks and caicos. your parents were stressed initially about the trip, but you were filled with nothing but excitement at leaving the landlocked state you called home.

missouri had slowly wormed its way into your heart. when your family moved, there was never a thought in your mind that you would ever come to love it like you did with cedar rapids. there was no way you’d ever consider this place your home. but then you met the tkachuks.

it’d been nearly three years since you’d first sat in that seat next to your best friend in mr. terry’s fourth grade class. now, you were splashing around in the waves with matt and brady while your parents looked from the shore.

school had been different the past two years, with matthew going to an all boys school after fifth grade while you stayed. it took some adjusting to being without him the entire school day. you didn’t want to think of yourself as codependent, or clingy, but mat was your best friend. it was an adjustment, having to make new friends in the same school.

now that wasn’t to say that you never saw matt. after your initial introductions, chantal offered to take you to and from school if your mom or dad dropped you off at their house in the morning. both of your parents jumped at the idea. your mother, who worked as a night shift ICU nurse, reveled in being able to go home and go straight to sleep. your father, whose job as an electrician required him to be on job sites early in the morning, didn’t mind it either, he had to be up early anyway.

and sure, you had to wake up earlier than you used to, but you got to eat breakfast and pretend like you were a tkachuk most days of the week (with the exception of the days your mom was off). keith would ruffle your hair as he passed you in the kitchen. taryn would race matthew for the seat next to yours.

the tkachuks felt more like your family than your own some days.

especially now when your parents went on a date that keith and chantal paid for while they stayed back at the beach house with you and their children. 

all six of you were seated around the coffee table with the game of life laid out in front of you. the evening started out with a game of uno, but that game got out of hand quickly. it took brady reversing the order and hitting matt with a draw four before your best friend lunged over the table to tackle his brother. while keith broke up the boys, chantal cleaned up uno and instructed you and taryn to pick out the least competitive game you could find.

which is how you ended up playing the game of life.

even though life had to be the least competitive game you knew, matt and brady still managed to argue over it, even going as far to rant about how unfair it was that they had to pay for home insurance. keith and chantal had just chuckled and told them to enjoy childhood while it lasted.

you found yourself smiling and laughing along.

you weren’t quite sure who won, or how anyone ever really wins the game of life, but the moment mattered more. taryn went upstairs with keith to get ready for bed while brady helped his mom in the kitchen pop a bag of popcorn. you and matthew were responsible for cleaning up the game.

“are you having fun?” he asked.

your smile was so wide, it hurt your cheeks. “i’m having the best time. this is by far the best vacation i’ve been on.”

“really?” he smiled.

you nodded emphatically. “most of my family vacations have been spent with my grandparents.”

matt grimaced, already aware of the testy relationship your mom had with her own parents. “when’s the last time you saw them?”

you had to think for a moment, while your grandparents technically lived in st. louis, they were often out of town or ignoring your family’s existence altogether. with the exception of the last saturday of every month, when you and your parents were practically obligated to eat dinner with them. you didn’t notice their judgmental comments when you were younger and mesmerized by the giant dollhouse they bought for you.

but you were older now. you knew that there were terms and conditions attached to the cellphone they bought for you on your twelfth birthday. you heard the disdain in their voices when they talked down to your father and mother for their life choices. you weren’t an idiot, you understood that every compliment they gave you was a way for them to make your parents feel inferior in comparison.

you weren’t a child to them, you were a pawn in a game you never asked to play.

“we saw them about a month ago?” you shrugged. “they’re on vacation until halfway through august.”

matt hummed. “i think we’re gonna visit mom’s parents before school starts back again.”

to your credit, you did your best to look happy for him, even if it meant that you wouldn’t see him for a week and a half. you had other friends in town! in fact, you befriended a girl named simone when you started middle school. maybe you could call her when you get back to st. louis?

evidently, your little act wasn’t convincing enough. matt nudged your shoulder with his. “you’ll be fine,” he said. “you’re probably annoyed from how much time we’ve spent together this summer. you need a break.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “i could never get tired of you, matty.”

he blinked, almost at a loss for words, it felt like. but you should’ve known better, because he was holding up his pinky a beat later. “you promise?”

you locked your fingers together. “promise.”

after

it’s just emma and her friends and taryn, you thought. you already know all of these people. there’s no reason to be stressed out.

which, to be fair, your inner monologue was right. you had absolutely no reason to be standing in front of your closet debating what to wear for as long as you had. 

before you could stop yourself, you were hitting emma’s contact and putting your phone on speaker. the dial tone rang out through the room while you waited for her to pick up. you were seconds away from ending the call when her phone sounded through the receiver.

“hey! what’s up?”

you exhaled. “i don’t know what to wear tonight.”

emma said your name through a laugh. “we’re not going anywhere fancy, i swear. it’s just dinner and then we’re going to a bar.”

you frowned. “so taryn’s not joining us after dinner?”

“no, she has other plans after dinner anyway. she said she was meeting up with some friends from high school.” as if she could see the hesitance on your face, emma spoke up again. “but you know all the other girls, it’s not like you’ll be hanging out with strangers.”

and she was right, you were in a groupchat with the other bridesmaids and found all of them to be quite pleasant.

“look, if you’re still stressed about what to wear, just wear jeans.”

“okay, but how nice is this restaurant?” you were rummaging through your closet. “because i’ve worn jeans to restaurants that weren’t supposed to be fancy and i found myself criminally underdressed.”

“yeah well, i’m better at communicating than matt is.” a gasp sounded through the receiver, like emma had just realized what she said. “oh my god, i’m so sorry—”

“it’s fine, you’re not wrong,” you said, forcing out a laugh even as your heart painfully squeezed in your chest.

“i really didn’t mean to,” she sighed. “i’m sorry, that was rude of me to bring up.”

you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. “it’s fine, emma, i swear,” you said even though there were tears pricking in your eyes. “i’ll have to face the music eventually.”

“still, it was insensitive of me to say that.”

you cleared your throat. “don’t worry about it, i’m a big girl.” you pulled the phone away from your face so you could sniffle for a second without drawing any unnecessary attention. “so jean shorts tonight?” you asked.

there was a brief silence before you heard emma’s soft sigh over the phone. “that sounds perfect.”

before

matthew kissed you for the first time when you were hanging out with mutual friends after school in eighth grade. you’d been dreaming about that moment for years ever since sixth grade when you realized matt was handsome and the flutters in your stomach weren’t just from nerves anymore.

both of you were at your friend morgan’s house sitting in her basement. she happened to live in the same neighborhood as matt. so after school, you rode home with the tkachuks like you always did and then walked to her house.

morgan was the first of your friends to get a boyfriend and she wasn’t shy about telling everyone. it was easy to be jealous of her. while you hadn’t known her as long, your other friends had made it clear she’d garnered male attention since preschool. so there was no surprise that she’d announced at school earlier that week that she was dating someone from matt’s school.

hence the party in the basement.

morgan was the one who suggested truth or dare. she had all ten of you circle up on the carpet and sit criss crossed. you were keenly aware of how matt’s knee was touching your own, you could feel the heat even through your jeans. he was leaning back on his hands, with his right hand directly behind your back,in your delusions, you let yourself pretend he was doing it to be closer to you.

“alright!” morgan cheered. “who wants to start?”

no one said a word.

you made the mistake of looking around when you caught morgan’s eye. at the sight of a growing smirk on her lips, you quickly diverted your gaze.

“c'mon, no one wants to go first?” she hummed. “fine, i’ll go. babe,” she started calling thomas babe a week ago. “ask me, truth or dare?”

the only word you could use to describe the look on thomas’ face was besotted. without hesitating, he asked her the question, smiling when she grinned back at him. morgan chose dare, because she wasn’t “boring and lame.”

thomas dared her to kiss him. there was a collective groan when she leaned over and kissed her boyfriend. the second she pulled back, morgan’s eyes flitted over the rest of the group, looking like a tiger about to pounce. the two of you made eye contact and the corner of her lips raised in a smirk that was gone as quick as it came.

you prepared yourself for the worst, recalling how you let it slip that you have a crush on matt. and morgan, while she wasn’t intentionally cruel, had all but shrieked when you told her. so you didn’t think she’d out you to be mean, you wouldn’t put it past her to attempt matchmaking.

but her eyes skipped right over you and focused on simone. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” simone replied.

morgan rolled her eyes. “nerd,” but she cracked a smile anyway.

the game went on pretty effortlessly, you even got brave enough to do a dare (thankfully morgan never got the opportunity to ask you). it ended with morgan asking matthew. the smirk she had earlier, appeared as she made eye contact with you before setting her sights on your best friend.

“truth or dare?” she asked.

you immediately knew which option he was picking, matt never backed down from a challenge and had been choosing dare all night.

“matthew, i dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

your stomach dropped as did your gaze. you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, you didn’t want to see matt kiss another girl, you couldn’t. you wouldn’t do it.

a moment passed when you realized matt hadn’t moved an inch. he was still leaning on his hands, with one stretched behind you. all it took was a quick glance at matt to see him already staring back at you.

“no,” he said, eyes still locked on your face.

morgan blinked. “what?”

it was only then that his eyes left your face to look morgan dead in the eye. “nope. i won’t do it.”

she guffawed. “but you have to!”

matt shrugged. “i don’t want to.”

“but you lose if you don’t!”

he shrugged yet again. “oh well.”

your head snapped up to look at him in confusion. “matt,” you nudged him.

“we gotta go anyway,” he said, before he stood up and reached out to you. you took his hand, albeit hesitantly before he dragged you up the stairs and out of the house onto the street.

a cool breeze was blowing which inadvertently caused you to shiver. matt, who still hadn’t let go of your hand, tugged you further into his side. your heart sank when he dropped your hand, only for it to skyrocket when he threw his arm around you.

“why didn’t you do the dare?” you asked. the curiosity was killing you, even if you believed the real answer would be even worse than not knowing.

matt shrugged like he had been all night. “i didn’t feel like it.”

you blinked at him, staring at his profile while he guided the two of you back to his house. “you’re literally the most competitive person i know. you’ve never intentionally lost a game. last week brady dared you to drink that gallon of milk and run a mile, which, if i must remind you, you threw up not even halfway through.”

matt laughed. “that was funny. but what’s your point?”

“my point is that kissing someone is way less work than running a mile and throwing up. so what’s up?”

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze fell to the ground where he kicked a rock. “didn’t want it to happen like that.”

you blinked at him, refusing to move your gaze from his profile. “didn’t want what to happen like that? it’s just a kiss.”

he shook his head and stopped walking, grabbing your wrist when you kept moving. matt tugged your arm so you’d turn around and look at him. “it wouldn’t be just a kiss,” he said.

“would it mean more?” you asked, but he didn’t say anything. “matt?” your heart was beating against your chest. your hands shook at the idea of him wanting to kiss someone. you went through the list of people in that room. it wasn’t morgan, he’d told you weeks ago that he didn’t like her like that when you asked. could it be simone? she looked like a goddess on a bad day. her dark skin was flawless and free of blemishes and her faux locs were always perfectly styled. she didn’t even wear makeup on a regular basis.

oh god. did he like simone?

your gut twisted at the idea, of him falling in love with the closest friend you had at school. you could learn to be happy for them, simone was great and matt would adore her if she agreed to go out with him.

you snapped back into it when you felt matt’s thumb rub across your pulse. “matt, would it mean more?”

he shrugged again, still not looking at you, just the part where your hands were joined. “would it be a problem if it did?”

now it was your turn to be confused. “why would my opinion matter? i’m not the one you’d be kissing.”

matt blinked at you once, then twice. “you can’t be serious,” he said.

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t be that blind. there’s no way.”

“matt, what are you talking about?”

he dropped your hand to run both of his over his face and groaned. “there's no way you don’t know.”

“know what?”

matt fixed you with an intense look, one that had you squirming in your shoes a little. in all your years of friendship, you weren’t sure he'd ever stared at you that way before. a hockey game? sure, but you?

“matt what—”

“i like you,” he said as plain as day, like he didn’t just flip your world on its axis.

you blinked, you were pretty sure you stopped breathing. “what?” you whispered.

matt stepped closer to you, close enough that your shoes were touching. “i like you.”

“so why didn’t you kiss me when morgan dared you to?”

“i didn’t want it to happen like that,” he admitted. “didn’t wanna kiss you in front of everybody.”

you could feel the heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks. “and what about now? would you kiss me now?”

“would you let me?”

words failed you, you could only nod. matt hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. it was clumsy and awkward, and in the middle of the sidewalk two blocks away from his house.

but it was perfect.

after

you ubered to the restaurant before emma could suggest meeting at the tkachuk house. every single one of the bridesmaids knew you and matt were no longer together, all of them banding around you and offering support from thousands of miles away. so you didn’t think any of them would even hint at meeting at the tkachuk residence if they were as considerate as you believed them to be, but you wanted to avoid the sympathetic looks that would be thrown your way.

most of the bridesmaids were there by the time you arrived, the only exception being taryn. the entire table greeted you with bright white smiles, emma stood to give you a hug that you enthusiastically returned.

it felt great to be back in the company of people your age. despite being back in st. louis for quite some time, you still had yet to make any more friends outside of emma and taryn, both of whom you didn’t see that often because of who they were relationally attached to.

unfortunately, you’d lost contact with many of your friends from high school because of the distance. if you could go back, you’d slap yourself in the face for thinking matt was going to stick around longer than simone or morgan.

but how were you to know he would leave and wouldn’t want you to follow him?

you swallowed that question down and took a seat at the table. you sat next to a brunette named stacey, the other seat on your right was left for taryn, you assumed. there were already two bottles of wine sitting in a bucket of ice on the table. part of you considered pouring yourself a glass immediately, but you remembered the plans were dinner first, bar later. so you settled for water.

it was only a matter of maybe ten minutes before taryn was led to your table. you stood up with the rest of the girls and waited your turn to hug her. taryn saved you for last, smiling bright and wide when the two of you finally made eye contact. you squeezed each other tightly as you hugged, unspoken words being communicated.

“now, before anyone looks at the menu, i just wanted to let you know, it’s on brady tonight.” emma held up her hand as mouths began to protest across the table. “he insisted, and we won’t be taking no for an answer.”

and maybe you should’ve protested a little harder to look more sincere, but your job wasn’t paying you well enough to afford a 70 dollar steak and drinks.

the table breaks up into mini conversations while everyone was looking over the menu. you were doing the same when an elbow nudged you from the right. you glanced over at taryn who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she wanted your attention, it was something you’d always admired about her.

“long time, no see,” she said. but before you could respond, she spoke up again. “how have you been?”

you shrugged and moved your eyes back to the menu to look busy. “nothing has been going on really, just working.” you cleared your throat and hesitantly made eye contact again. “and you? what have you been up to?”

taryn shifted in her seat, a tell you knew was coming. you weren’t a stranger to where she’d been the past few weeks, you still followed her on instagram, you followed all of the tkachuks on instagram, even matt. so you knew she’d just gotten back after the panthers lost in game five of the finals.

you nudged her with your shoulder and gave her a small smile. “it’s okay, i’m not gonna burst into tears if you mention him.”

taryn smiled. “i’m exhausted, we were traveling everywhere for matt it felt like. it was cutting into my workouts.”

your jaw clenched at the mention of his name, mainly to distract you from feeling the ache in your chest, but you kept a pleasant look on your face anyway. “you still have the rest of the summer for your workouts, though. summer’s barely started.”

taryn nodded but she didn’t say anything for a moment. you started to shift in your seat when she reached a hand out and squeezed your own. “i miss you,” she said sincerely. “it hasn’t been the same without you around.”

“taryn...”

“you know, you’re still in, like, most of our family photos hanging on the wall. mom and dad haven’t taken them down.”

you weren’t sure if that made you happy or brought you pain.

“i begged them not to, you’re in too many memories for us to just forget you.” she cleared her throat and looked back at her menu, giving you a break from the sincere staredown the two of you were having. “they ask about you all the time, but they didn’t want to impose, mom especially. said she’d understand if you never wanted to see them again.”

you tried reading the menu through blurry eyes and pinched your lips together so no one would see them tremble. “i’ve been meaning to get coffee with your mom,” you said, though you both knew it was a lie. you’d made yourself scarce for a reason.

“she’d be happy to see you again, she just didn’t want to overstep.”

you nodded, still not looking at the girl you fully believed would be your sister one day. “i’ll text her.”

the waiter came by moments later to take your orders. thankfully, the tears had cleared up out of your eyes. as soon as you’d cleared your throat, you were telling the server your order without your voice shaking.

you bore the grief well, you thought. you laughed when everyone else did, smiled when appropriate, and asked follow up questions. socializing wasn’t hard, years of galas and charity events as matt’s plus one had trained you well for moments like these, so long as you avoided the eyes of taryn and emma, both of whom knew you better than anyone else at the table.

emma paid with brady’s card like she’d promised earlier. unfortunately for you, that’s when the anxiety started to come back. taryn was leaving after dinner, too young to go to the bars with the rest of you, and according to what emma had told you, she had plans with friends.

the group left together, with taryn waving goodbye as the rest of you headed to a bar three blocks away. your hands were shaking, so you shoved them in your pockets to hide the trembling.

it’d get better once you got a few drinks in you, you told yourself. you’d loosen up soon enough.

emma opened a tab with brady’s card and you immediately started going in. the group started with a round of shots, but you were quickly ordering more than just tequila. it was only a matter of time before your vision started lagging and your brain began buffering to keep up with what was happening.

you were on the dance floor, grinding against a stranger, who thankfully, was keeping their hands to themselves, when emma tugged your arm, giggling. “everyone else has left. and i think it’s time for us to go,” she slurred, a giant smile on her face.

you allowed yourself to be tugged away from the stranger. “how do you know?” you asked, fumbling over your words like trying to catch a bar of soap with wet hands.

emma smiled and pointed at the bar where brady was, you assumed, closing out the tab. seeing him in the flesh had your heart stuttering. the anxiety was kicking back in, hitting harder than it did when you were sober. you hadn’t seen brady since november, or was it december? the months had blurred together just like that one scene from new moon.

but now you were seeing him in the flesh, and he was getting closer as emma tugged you over to where he was. brady was just slipping his card back in his wallet when the two of you got to him. he looked up and smiled at his fianceé before he even realized you were standing there. the lovesick smile dropped but it was quickly replaced with shock before it was transformed into a smile you could’ve painted from memory.

“hey!” he said just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “i didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

if you were sober, you’d see that statement as a warning, preparation for what was to come. you would’ve noticed the way his eyes kept darting to the entrance of the bar, but you didn’t. you were just happy to see him for the first time in a while, feeling the semblance of home you’d been missing for months.

if you were sober, you would’ve remembered that brady and his brother were a package deal. you would’ve known that the nights brady wasn’t spending with emma, he was spending with your ex, and when emma had inevitably texted (or brady offered) her fiancé to pick her up, that he was more than likely already out with his brother celebrating his upcoming nuptials.

if you were sober, you would’ve noticed him walk through the door because your eyes were always drawn to him. you would’ve known it was him by the smell of his cologne, instead of waiting for him to slap his brother on the shoulder in greeting.

if you were sober, you would’ve made a break for it the second he started approaching you, emma, and brady.

but you were drunk off your ass, and all you could do was stand there like a dumbfounded idiot while matthew brendan tkachuk glanced around the room.

brady shifted on his feet a little, bracing for the moment you both knew was coming. the moment where matt saw you for the first time since november 29, when he played calgary. you’d imagine to brady, it felt like watching a car accident happen in real time. to you though, you were the accident. you were the one getting hit by a bus going full speed. you were rooted to the spot, taking in every feature of matt’s face that you’d missed over the last six months, waiting for him to see you.

if you were sober, you would’ve run away by now, knowing that being that close to him would do nothing for you.

but it was too late now.

matt finally glanced at emma, then brady, until his eyes landed on you. the smile on his lips from the song that was bumping through the speakers dropped almost immediately. he recoiled, took a small step back, almost as if he was shocked to see you there at all.

you felt like an idiot.

you weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other before you took a deep breath and stared at your shoes.

your hands were shaking again.

you shoved them in your pockets again.

matt’s eyes darted to your shorts at the movement, his eyes scrunched together in what looked like concern, but you brushed that thought off before you could convince yourself he still cared. but you could feel his stare on you, even as you looked around and avoided eye contact. you felt like an ant, with matt’s gaze being the magnifying glass that was burning you with a beam of sunlight.

“do you have a ride home?” brady asked. your head whipped back around to look at him and emma.

you shrugged, already feeling more sober than you were two minutes ago. “was gonna uber.”

matt scoffed. “not happening.”

out of nowhere anger bubbled out of your chest and out of your mouth. “excuse me?”

matt fixed you with a hard stare, one you didn’t shy away from. “you’re not ubering home on a friday night drunk as hell. it’s not happening.”

“i think you lost the right to make my decisions six months ago.” you refused to say his name, refused to know what it felt like to have it back on your tongue even though your heart was crying out to utter those two syllables again.

brady interjected before the disagreement could escalate. “i just wanna make sure you get home safe,” he said. “can i drive you home?”

you glanced at the man you used to know like a little brother. you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the concern.

and maybe it was the love for brady and emma that had you accepting. or maybe it was the alcohol. you nodded your head and let emma lock arms with you as you were led out by the tkachuk brothers.

you found yourself in the backseat where you used to hold hands with matt when you went on double dates with brady and emma. the two of you used to tease the younger couple when they did literally anything romantic. if brady so much as grabbed emma’s hand, the two of you were gagging in the backseat “choking on their pda” all while knowing brady and emma have caught you in more compromising positions before.

but it wasn’t like that this time around.

you slid into your usual seat in the back before emma could offer up shotgun to you. maybe if you were more selfish, you’d accept, but you weren’t going to let your friend sit away from her fiancé when you could just suck it up.

the space between you and matt felt too suffocatingly small and yet it still felt like you were on two opposite sides of the globe. you thought about taking a risk and throwing yourself out of the moving vehicle, but there was still a wedding you were both in. you needed to figure out how to tolerate being around him if you didn’t want to cause a scene later in the summer.

you just had to make it to the end of july, then you could go back and pretend like december 16th never happened, like the past nine years of your life never happened. like you never fell in love with your best friend, like you never met him and his mother in fourth grade, like your parents never moved you to st. louis. like there weren’t traces of your failed relationship in every scrapbook in your parents’ house, like he wasn’t tied to every significant moment of your childhood.

you felt like the bundle of christmas lights that you’d sworn you put back in an orderly fashion the previous year, only to pull them out and realize you had an entire project on your hands to detangle them all.

except in the end, none of the lights worked anyway.

you could hardly remember a time where your life wasn’t deeply intertwined with matthew’s. you thought it’d lead to something, to marriage, to raising kids together, to celebrating his retirement, buying a home close to his family, and growing fat and old together.

you hated the idea that you went down that road only for it to be a dead end.

brady pulled up outside your house. you were unbuckling your seat belt and throwing the door open before he’d even put the car in park. you were doing your best to get to the front porch before anything else happened, but as hard as you tried, you were still a little too drunk. you were stumbling up the driveway and to the front door, all the while trying to figure out which key was the key to your house.

a car door slammed in the distance before footsteps followed.

you knew the sound like you knew the sound of your mother’s sadness. you would’ve recognized his footfalls anywhere.

in your haste and anxiety, you dropped your keys. you squatted down and nearly tipped over at the rush to your head. matt’s hand shot out before you could grab the keys while his other hand grabbed your elbow and pulled you into a standing position. he led you to the front door and with ease, found your house key. he unlocked the door but didn’t move to open it. you could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you refused to look back.

his touch on your skin felt like it was burning, and part of you wanted to rip your arm out of his grasp, but you couldn’t.

you just—

couldn't.

matt said your name quietly, but you just shook your head, willing the tears to go away. he didn’t get to see you cry, didn’t get to know that his actions had absolutely wrecked you. he tried again, but you inhaled and jerked your arm out of his reach before you opened your front door, grabbed your keys, and shut it in his face.

you barely made it into your bathroom before you threw up.

before

you were bouncing on your toes at the airport. matt’s plane landed fifteen minutes ago, and you were anxiously waiting for him to round the corner.

matt’s first year with the ntdp made your relationship a little difficult, though, you thought it would be harder than it was. modern technology definitely made it easier on you. matt would call you just about every other night, and if he couldn’t, matt was texting you whenever he had the freetime.

the last time you saw each other was when you and the tkachuks spent your spring break in ann arbor to visit, and that had been over a month ago. thankfully, you’d managed to convince your mom to let you check out of school early to wait for him.

“someone’s excited,” taryn teased, bumping her shoulder into your side. 

“honey leave her alone,” chantal chided. “we’re all excited.”

“i’m not,” brady grumbled. not even a beat later, keith was slapping the back of his head.

moments later, matt walked around the corner with his bags in hand. you fought every urge to run to him, deciding he probably wanted to greet his family first. and he did, you watched as he hugged his mom and dad first, moving the taryn, before punching brady in the shoulder.

you were nervously playing with the hem of your school issued plaid skirt as you looked on, suddenly feeling out of place. but it didn’t linger because in a blink of an eye, matt’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his chest.

a sigh escaped your lips, one you didn’t even know was held hostage in your chest. maybe you were being dramatic (you were almost 16, after all), but it felt like the part of you that was missing was just returned.

“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.

you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips.

matt didn’t let go of you, even when everyone started walking towards the car where keith parked. your hand was tightly grasped in his own, forcing brady to carry the other bag matt couldn’t. to make up for it, you offered to sit in the back of keith’s escalade so brady could have more leg room. matt ended up grumbling about it, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let you sit in the back next to taryn when he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

“i ruined my perfect attendance streak for you,” you said as you traced the veins of his hands.

matt smirked. “i messed up little miss perfect’s squeaky clean record? how will you ever get into college now?”

you ripped your hand from his and shoved his shoulder, barely restraining yourself from cussing him out. “shut up,” was what you settled for because while taryn and brady had most definitely heard their fair share of curse words, you didn’t want to be the one on the receiving end of chantal’s disapproving look, even if it meant keith would be fighting for his life to hold back laughter.

all four of you, keith and chantal excluded, all but scrambled out of the car when it pulled into the garage. you and matt grabbed both of his bags before bum rushing into the house and up the stairs to his room.

“leave the door open!” chantal called from the first floor.

you didn’t need to see his face to know matt was rolling his eyes.

“i’m tempted to ignore her and just slam and lock the door,” he grumbled.

you dropped the bag you were holding and guffawed. “you wouldn’t. you love your mom.”

matt dropped his bag and immediately took the opportunity to grab you by the waist. “and i love you.”

you almost giggled, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself so you beamed instead. the first time he said those words was a few months ago over facetime and it still made you giddy as it did then.

matt pressed his forehead against yours. “you’re not gonna say it back?” he asked.

you blinked, still smiling. “what?”

“you're not gonna say you love me back?”

you shrugged, knowing it would get under his skin. you knew the consequences. “hm,” you hummed. “do i need to?”

matt rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might’ve gotten stuck in the back of his head. “quit being smart.”

and maybe you should’ve given up, maybe you should’ve let it go and say those three little words you’d said countless times before. but teasing him was way too much fun to pass up when you hadn’t seen him in months. so you pursed your lips and hummed again. “i seem to recall you saying you liked how smart i am. something about being the beauty and the brains?”

and out of nowhere, taryn popped her head in. “well matt for sure wasn’t going to be the beauty, and he’s never been the brains,” she smirked.

matt let go of you and marched over to the door, all but slamming it in her face.

“matthew brendan tkachuk! that door better be open!” chantal’s voice carried up the stairs had you lunging across the room and whipping open the door in a hurry.

“sorry mrs. tkachuk!” you called out before turning around and glaring at your boyfriend. “you’re a menace.”

matthew smirked and pulled you close enough that you were chest to chest. “but you love me.”

“i love you so much.”

after

the hangover you had the next morning was probably the worst you ever remember having. well, until you remembered the night matt broke up with you, that was the worst one.

you turned over in bed, picked up your phone, and saw multiple texts from emma and brady alike, both ranging from “it was great to see you” to “i’m so sorry about last night.” you groaned and dropped your phone back on the nightstand.

last night, when you thought about it, hurt more than it should’ve. you saw him for the first time in the flesh and it looked like he was fine, like he didn’t completely upend your life six months ago when he ended things. part of you wondered if he could see through you, through the illusion of your happiness and to the core where you were just as fractured as you were december 17th. 

the rest of the weekend continued with you doing little to nothing but eating and binging trashy reality tv shows. when your alarm went off on monday morning, you contemplated calling off, but got dressed instead.

“you look like hell,” was the first thing frankie, your mentor and boss, said to you. because of the nature of your relationship, you felt comfortable flipping him off, even as he passed you a cup of coffee. “rough night?” he asked after watching you take a hefty sip of the hot beverage.

“rough weekend,” you grumbled.

frankie gave you a small smile and patted you on the back as the two of you walked to the workspace. “wanna talk about it?”

you recognized performative kindness when you saw it. while you firmly believed frankie cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew he didn’t want to hear the sob story of how you ran into your ex drunk at a bar, at least, not at 8am. so you shook your head.

“i looked at some of your work on the bradshaw family’s piece so far, and i was impressed. i do have some notes, but for the most part, you’ve been doing a great job.”

you did your best to smile gratefully, but you weren’t sure it translated. “i really appreciate your guidance on this, and the trust you have to let me work on some of these projects.”

“you’re very talented,” he said. “you ever thought about creating something for yourself or someone else?”

there wasn’t a word to describe the noise that came out of your mouth. was it a nervous laugh? a squeak maybe? you didn’t know, and neither did frankie.

“what?” he asked. “why is that so scary?”

you shrugged as the two of you made it to the workspace. normally, you would start by pulling out the supplies you needed to begin working on the bradshaw piece, but if frankie met you at the door, it was because he wanted to have an impromptu meeting first.

“i feel like i’m good at fixing things,” you said. “maybe not creating something from thin air.”

“you have so much talent,” frankie replied. “i hate to see it wasted on fixing and preserving someone else’s work when you could be doing both. it could be your art that people hang in their houses and pay thousands of dollars to preserve.”

you nodded, but kept your eyes on the table, studying the wood grain and tracing the pattern with your finger.

“i don’t think i’m capable of that anymore.”

frankie reached over and squeezed your shoulder. “just think on it, okay? couldn’t hurt to just think on it.” he walked out a moment later, giving you space and time to queue up music and get started on the day.

you opened spotify and pressed the play button on your liked songs without even thinking about it. not even two seconds later, you regretted your decision. the soft tones and beats of frank ocean’s thinkin bout you echoed through the room and slammed against your chest. you immediately switched the song and found a classical playlist to listen to instead.

but the tune wouldn’t get out of your head.

not two minutes later.

not thirty minutes later.

not after your full eight hour shift spent hunched over your workstation.

not even on the drive home.

frank ocean’s voice permeated every fiber of your being.

it was simone who first showed you the song in high school. you remembered liking the melody enough, but you didn’t get the lyrics. and why would you? you were in love with your best friend who loved you back. even though you were fourteen and too young to even think about marriage, you knew matthew was going to be the person you ended up with. it was him or no one.

and now it was no one.

now, you listened to the song play over and over in your head, the lyrics resonating with you deeper than ever before.

you pulled into your driveway, completely unaware of what cars were parked in the street. they’d never mattered to you before. why would they now?

you sat in your car for a few minutes, taking a deep breath while you worked up the courage to go inside. when you finally got a grip on your emotions, you opened your door and grabbed your bag. you were too busy fumbling with your keys to notice anything amiss until you were on your porch and a pair of shoes came into sight.

“hey.”

it took everything in you not to scream. you dropped your keys and nearly dropped your bag. matthew stood on your front porch with his hands in the pockets in his shorts like he was innocent of any pain or suffering he’d caused you. he was in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and you hated yourself a little bit for thinking he’s attractive like that.

“what’re you doing here?” you hated how hoarse your voice sounded, like a low quality audio recording where things sounded muffled and broken.

“your dad wouldn’t let me in.”

“good.”

matt sighed and ran a hand down his face. “can we not do this?”

“not do what?” you asked. “not act like you ended things for no damn reason?”

“if you—”

“we dated for nearly ten years and you decided to end it over a five minute phone call. and you still think you’re entitled to my time?” and maybe you should’ve been kinder, maybe you should’ve been more civil. but you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months (until a few nights ago) and he just turned up out of the blue? expecting you to do what? forgive him? move on?

matthew said your name delicately, but not in the way he used to, like saying your name was a luxury he was honored to have. no, he said it like you were going to break, like you were fragile, like he wasn’t the sole cause of your pain. “please—”

the anger was draining out of you quicker. you were exhausted between work, and frank ocean’s stupid song, and the other night. 

“what do you want?” your voice cracked on the last word. “wanna ruin my life a little bit more? put the final nail in the coffin?”

“no,” he shook his head fervently. matthew took a step towards you and looked something close to devastated when you stepped back. but it didn’t make sense, he ended it, he had no right to look or feel that way. ��i just wanna talk.”

“six months,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice clear. “you had six months to say something. what could you possibly have to say now that you couldn’t then?”

“i know we didn’t end on the best of terms—” he started, but it was cut off by your scoff. you turned your head away and used your palm to wipe at your eyes before you crossed your arms over your chest. “—but i don’t think we should let this ruin brady and emma’s summer. we’re gonna see a lot of each other and i don’t want things to be tense around them.”

you took a minute to really look at him. blonde frizzy curls, blue eyes that wouldn’t leave your face. he hadn’t changed one bit.

one summer, you’d attempted to count the number of freckles on his shoulders. you got up to 87 before you gave up.

and yet you felt like you were standing in front of a stranger.

there were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you’d dreamt of screaming at him, but now that he was here, in front of you, asking something of you, you felt drained, tired. you used to crave his presence, now it felt like a leech.

you loved him, but he was sucking the life out of you.

so you nodded. you nodded and said “okay,” before you walked inside your front door and left your heart on the porch.

you pressed your back against the door and slid to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. there was no telling when you started crying, or when your dad joined you on the floor, hugging you as close to his chest as he could.

“why wasn’t i enough?” you sobbed into your knees.

your dad petted your hair before he pressed a kiss there. “you’re more than enough, honey. but you can’t make anyone love you if they’re not willing to.”

“he used to!” you wailed. “he used to love me!” then, in a smaller voice, “what changed?”

a beat of silence, then your father’s somber, quiet voice. “maybe he did.”

before

“so what are your plans for after high school?” ms. meyer, your high school guidance counselor sat across from you at her desk. her stare was kind, but unwavering.

you’d already applied to notre dame, knowing that’s where matt committed. so when you answered, it was confident. it had been your plan since matt said yes to the school. “i’m going to notre dame and majoring in art history.”

“do you have any back up schools?”

you nodded. “ucla and the art institute of chicago.”

ms. meyer pursed her lips. “you know all of those places are highly competitive, right?”

“my transcripts and resume are impressive and I did really well on the SAT and ACT. i think i’ll be able to get in.” and you were, you were pretty confident as they come when it came to academics. any school would’ve been lucky to have you, that much you believed.

ms. meyer nodded. “i understand ucla and the art institute, both of those schools have incredible arts programs, but why notre dame? it doesn’t seem to fit with your aspirations.”

“oh,” you laughed under your breath. “that’s where my boyfriend is going.”

your guidance counselor blinked. “you’re incredibly smart and gifted, i’d hate to see that talent wasted when you could be developing it elsewhere. what do you want?”

“i want to be with matthew.”

ms. meyer sighed and gave you a sympathetic smile, you weren’t sure why though. you’d never been more sure of anything. “honey, can i be honest with you?” she didn’t wait for your response. “you have so much talent, so much to offer, i’ve seen many girls come in here, putting off aspirations for their significant others only for that relationship not to last.”

“i know we’re young,” you started, already feeling the heat rise up in your chest. she didn’t know anything about you personally, she didn’t know about you and matt. “but we’re gonna make it, i swear.”

ms. meyer nodded. “of course you are.” she cleared her throat and adjusted the papers in front of her. “so, notre dame...”

after

you weren't exactly sure what compelled you to do it, but at dinner a few nights ago, your mom had asked about what happened to simone, your friend from middle and high school. so you reached out, though it made you feel like you were contacting someone to join your mlm.

it legitimately surprised you when simone replied to your facebook message. the two of you made plans to get coffee on saturday.

and now it was saturday.

you weren’t getting coffee until 9:30, but you were awake and staring at your ceiling at 7. you’d done the due diligence of stalking simone’s profile, so you knew she was married with two kids who looked just like her. she worked as a data analyst for kroger and her husband was a public defender. she met her husband in college and they got married shortly after they graduated from grad and law school respectively. 

if you were a better woman, you’d admit you were jealous. jealous that she got what she wanted in the end. but when you put that aside, you still felt overwhelming happiness at her station in life, regardless of how yours turned out.

you kept scrolling through her social media until it was eventually time for you to get up. you stayed to facebook, not even wanting to bother with going on instagram and accidentally stumbling across one of the tkachuks’ posts.

it was 9:10 when you finally finished getting dressed and ready. you came down the stairs and threw a goodbye over your shoulder before grabbing your crossbody bag and your keys and running out the door.

despite your sprinting and nearly running red lights, you were still five minutes late. you came into the coffee shop, gasping for air after sprinting down the sidewalk from your parking spot.

the second you entered the business, simone’s hand lifted and she smiled brightly, calling you over almost immediately. she stood to greet you, and like no time had passed, pulled you in for a hug.

“it’s so good to see you,” she said. “wasn’t sure if you still liked an iced chai latte, but i got one for you.”

“oh my god, yes,” you gasped before taking a seat and taking a sip of the beverage.

she kept smiling, which made you feel lighthearted for once. most people kept looking at you with pitying eyes, but simone saw you for more than the grief of the last six months. she had to know about it, she just had to, but you thanked her for not bringing it up in the first minute of your conversation.

“how’s work going?”

you shrugged. “it’s mostly tedious, but it’s been fine. what about you? working for kroger? that’s a huge deal.”

simone shook her head. “it’s just a means to an end, a way i can pay for my family’s lifestyle.”

“but are you passionate about what you do?”

she shrugged lightly. “it’s a job, it’s not my life. not everyone is going to work a job that fulfills them. my husband? he loves being a public defender, and he’s good at it. me though, as fun as analyzing data all day sounds and as helpful as it is, getting to have a job that doesn’t come home with me is probably my favorite part of it.”

you nodded along like you understood. and maybe you didn’t do a good enough job at being convincing because simone sighed.

“i wanted to wait to ask this, but i can’t hold it in any longer. how’re you holding up?”

it took you several seconds to answer her question. your mouth open and closed multiple times. “i— i don't know.” you sank back into your seat and picked at your cuticles. “it’s been a shitty few months,” you admitted. “you’d think i’d be over it by now.

simone shook her head and leaned in, arms braced on the table. “you two were together for a decade, what’s a few months in comparison to that?”

you shrugged. “i saw him the other night, when i went out drinking with the other bridesmaids. it was like, i don't know, i got dunked in an ice bath or something. he looked completely unaffected and i couldn’t breathe.”

simone whispered your name.

“but i’m fine!” you asserted. “i’m trying to be.”

simone nodded. “so what do you do now?”

you could’ve kissed her feet for the change in topic. “i’m working in the art restoration and conservation field.”

simone blinked. “you’re restoring art? do you like it?”

you shrugged. “most days, it can get repetitive, but that’s what i like.”

your friend sighed and fixed you with a soft, sympathetic look. “but is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? restoring someone else’s art? doing something repetitive? you are so talented, i hate to see you wasting that talent restoring someone else’s work.”

“it’s not a waste! it’s incredibly difficult and some things deserve to be preserved.”

“but some new things deserve to be created.” simone leaned in closer, her forearms braced on the table. “i think it would do you some good to start creating something again, even if it’s shitty. and you think you aren’t ready, just try something new. a new bar, a new hobby, a new man, something new.”

your stomach twisted at the thought of going on a date with someone other than matt, but simone was right. it had been six months and he seemed to be doing fine, it was your turn to start moving on, to find yourself again.

so you nodded. “we should do this more often,” you said. “i’ve missed you.”

simone smiled. “i’ve missed you too, i’m glad you’re home.”

you talked for another hour about everything the two of you had missed over the years of you being elsewhere before she had to leave and relieve the nanny at home. simone hugged you goodbye and texted you her new number before she left the coffee shop. 

the drive home was quiet because you were pondering the things she’d said. you weren’t sure you were ready for making your own art, you sure as hell weren’t ready to go on a date. but maybe you should try.

maybe you were ready to put yourself first for once.

before

the biggest argument you’d had with matt was after you found out he wasn’t playing at notre dame at all, he was going to play for calgary.

you felt so stupid for committing to that school when you should’ve known your boyfriend was talented enough to skip it altogether. maybe you should’ve taken a gap year, then you wouldn’t have to be doing even more long distance in two different countries.

the two of you never argued, or maybe never was too strong of a word. you hardly ever had a disagreement if you thought about it long enough. most of the time, you suppressed the disappointment and the anger, shoving it to the side because you were surely being dramatic.

but now you were standing off to the side, waiting for your name to be called to cross the stage at your high school graduation, and you wished you’d said something to convince matthew to delay settling into his new calgary apartment with one of his teammates.

but you swallowed your disappointment and pride and just dealt with the fact that he wouldn’t be there.

it was fine.

just high school.

you were snapped out of your reverie when your name was called. you smiled and walked across the stage. when you dreamt of this exact moment, you always thought you’d walk with grace, that all noise would cease to exist as you honed in on the sheet of paper you’d spent the last 13 years working towards.

but it wasn’t like that.

because you heard one specific voice above all the others. as your principal handed you the diploma, your eyes searched the crowd and saw him.

matthew standing up and yelling with his family next to him. he had a sign, the words you couldn’t read because there were tears forming in your water line. he was pointing at you and kept yelling and clapping, hooting and hollering like it was his full time job. your parents were smiling, though they were seated, and your grandparents were stone faced clapping like they were at the masters tournament.

so you kept your eyes on him, even as you walked back to your seat. you might have stumbled, tripped even, but all you could see, all you could feel was him.

you were back in your seat by the time the person calling out the names spoke again.

“please hold your applause until the end.”

you could hear his scoff, even from your seat.

your leg bounced for the rest of the graduation ceremony. you didn’t even register the turning of your tassel. you just couldn’t wait for it to be over so you could be in matt’s arms.

as soon as the ceremony concluded, matt was shoving his way past families, nearly taking out an elderly gentleman in his quest to get to you. on the other hand, you were being pushed to move farther away from him as the procession of students filed out of the gym. you kept looking over your shoulder to find him, but it looked like brady had caught up to him, wrangling his older brother to follow the crowds outside.

“outside!” brady pointed.

you nodded.

as soon as you got through the gym doors, you were booking it outside into the sunlight. it blinded you momentarily, but you whipped your phone out seconds later to see if matt had texted you where he’d be. you pulled up his contact and were seconds away from calling him when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up into the air.

a squeal left your lips until he set you down a moment later. you spun around in his arms and before you could say anything, matthew was kissing you like no one else was around.

when the two of you finally needed air, you pulled away. “i thought you were in calgary!”

matthew scoffed though there was a large smile on his lips. “you thought i’d miss my favorite girl’s graduation? calgary can wait, your high school graduation only happens once.”

“i’m glad you’re here,” you whispered. 

“me too, baby.”

unfortunately, matt pulled away so you could hug your parents and even your grandparents who were standing off to the side. taryn and brady pulled you into a group hug afterwards, with taryn going on a tangent about all the fun things the two of you would have to do before you left for school.

but brady was taking your graduation cap off your head to ruffle your hair as matt grabbed your purse and took your car keys out. keith and chantal were offering to pay for a celebratory lunch while your grandparents gave an irish goodbye. your parents were smiling, you were tucked into matt’s side, and brady and taryn were bickering and—

everything was perfect.

you wanted to freeze that moment, that sensation in your chest, take the saccharine feeling and bottle it up and store it on your bookshelf. 

and if you could’ve, you would’ve savored the sensation of matt’s lips pressed to your temple while both of your dads discussed the best route to get to the restaurant.

but you had no idea how the future would turn out.

you thought matt was forever.

after

you were on a double date, or at least, hyping yourself up to go into the bar and meet up with simone, her husband, and a friend of theirs. you didn’t want to be a bitch, but you also didn’t want to send yourself into a panic attack. simone had suggested just entertaining something with someone, didn’t even have to be serious, it could just be sex.

you could do that, right?

just casual sex?

the thought was nauseating. you’d only slept with matthew, no one knew your body like he did and—

you stopped yourself before you could go down that rabbit hole.

your hands shook as you stepped out of your car and locked it. maybe you should’ve gotten an uber, but then again, you weren’t really planning on drinking like that. you were hoping you’d still be sober enough to go home.

the music in the bar shockingly wasn’t as loud as you expected. it wasn’t the bass bumping, ass grinding bar like the ones matt used to take you to after games. even still, your palms started sweating as you looked around. you spotted simone’s natural hair across the room and made your way towards her. 

her husband, stephen, stood to greet you first, followed by simone, then lastly your date. a guy named andrew who was a partner at his firm, the youngest on his team.

his handshake was firm, but there were no calluses on his palm. his hair was slicked back with what you guessed was a pomade.

he was so unlike matthew it was alarming.

but maybe it was for the best.

you smiled and took your seat next to simone, you sipped on the water in front of you.

“we didn’t want to order drinks without you just yet.”

“thank you,” you mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“it’s nice to finally meet you,” andrew started. “simone spoke highly of you. she said you’ve been friends since middle school.”

you felt bad because simone didn’t really say much to you about him. if you were a gambler, you’d assume it was because she didn’t want you to back out. you barely even knew him and you were already comparing him to matt.

which wasn’t fair, you knew that. andrew deserved to be a human without the baggage of your last and only relationship determining how you viewed him.

you would try, at the very least for simone. at the very most, you’d try for yourself.

“nice to meet you too. i heard you’re a partner at your law firm? how is that going?”

oh god. you were so bad at this. asking about work on a friday night?

but he smiled. his teeth were perfectly straight and white. you'd bet your last dollar that he'd never needed braces, not like you did.

you hated yourself for thinking of the gap between matthew’s teeth.

“it’s going well,” he said. “lot of work, but i managed to get enough done this week that my friday was free. i wanted to meet the ‘best artist on planet earth,’ according to simone.”

“oh i don’t know about that,” you flushed.

simone scoffed. “don’t downplay yourself.” she turned to look at andrew. “you should see the art she created in high school as a teenager. it was so impressive.”

“what medium do you like working with the most?” he asked.

“mostly acrylic.”

andrew’s eyes lit up. “do you have any photos of your art? i’d love to see your work.”

you shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed at all the attention. “i don’t really paint like that anymore. i work in art conservation now, not a whole lot of time to create something new.”

“that’s such a unique career! what does your average day look like?” andrew leaned forward a little and took a sip of his water.

you told him a little bit about what you did. about how you spent hours hunched over a painting and fixing the smallest problems in hopes it would satisfy the client.

“you must’ve gone to some prestigious art school for that. if you don’t mind me asking, where did you go to college?”

your spine stiffened. “university of calgary.”

and just like you anticipated, his face twisted in confusion. there was no logical reason you should’ve gone out of the country for a regular school. it would be one thing if you went to an art institute, but you didn’t.

“why calgary?” he asked. “seems a bit random, if you don’t mind me asking.”

you shifted in your seat and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat in a sorry attempt to get the lump out, that you spoke. “it’s a long story,” you said. “thought i had a future in calgary.”

andrew, to his credit, knew when to not ask questions and changed the subject immediately.

the rest of the night passed in a blur. you were only halfway present, your mind reeling at how you wasted those years in calgary waiting for a man who would dump you as soon as he moved to a warmer state.

he, quite literally, left you in the cold.

andrew offered to walk you to your car, an offer you accepted because it was dark and st. louis.

“i had a great time tonight,” he said. “it was really nice to meet you. you’re even better than simone and stephen said.”

you gave him a small smile. “it was nice to meet you too.”

andrew shifted on his feet. for a moment, he didn’t look the part of the youngest partner at his law firm, he looked like a boy. “i was hoping maybe you’d want to do this again? maybe get some dinner?”

your throat felt like someone had force fed you cotton balls. but then you thought about how pathetic your life had been the last six months, how pathetic it was going to be when you flew to new jersey to be in the same bridal party as your ex.

you refused to be pathetic any longer.

which is probably why you smiled (albeit shakily) and said yes.

before

you were bouncing on your toes in the hallway as you waited for matt. it was a brutal game, and he spent a good portion of it in the penalty box, mostly for minor things, but one incident was for fighting. which wasn’t atypical, but you’d never seen him that keyed up before.

and given his reputation, there were any number of things that could’ve caused the fight itself. two weeks ago, matt had fought someone for being too forceful with one of his teammates, which after years of watching the game, was on par with the sport and your boyfriend.

because he fought so much, you weren’t necessarily surprised whenever he did. sure, you flinched when he was punched, knowing how badly it would bruise, praying to whatever higher power existed that he would still have all his teeth. but usually, matt wasn’t trying to fight everyone on the ice at all times.

tonight was different.

safe to say, you were a little anxious waiting for him to come out.

you weren’t exactly sure about what was said on the ice to get him so riled up. the worst you’d seen was when someone on the other team said something about taryn. you used to think that was the angriest you ever saw him. and it was.

until tonight.

you could feel the energy rolling off of him in waves as he exited the locker room. usually, after a win, matt is relaxed and easy going, but despite the victory from tonight, he was tense and pent up, frustrated even.

“hey,” you said, meeting him halfway.

matthew didn’t respond, just dropped his bag and wrapped you up in a hug, tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder.

“you okay?” you asked.

he nodded. he squeezed your waist once before letting go, taking your hand instead. “ready to go?”

the car ride was silent minus the music matthew had playing through the aux. his hand rested on your thigh, though the grip was particularly tighter than normal, especially after a win. part of you wanted to ask, the other part not wanting to spoil the rest of the night with your curiosity.

but this was the man you loved. and it hurt you to see him this upset.

normally, you would’ve left well enough alone, but you were going back to notre dame in two days and didn’t want to spend the rest of your time walking on eggshells around him. you couldn’t help him if you didn’t know what was wrong.

“what happened?” you asked when the car came to a stop at a light.

“nothing,” he grunted.

“your team won and you’re still grumpy, matthew. so tell me, what happened? i want to help you.”

“there’s nothing to help.”

“matthew,” you groaned. “i’m only here for two days, can you just be honest with me? i don’t wanna waste the rest of my trip with you being upset when i can help you—”

“then go back to indiana!” he all but yelled, ripping his hand off your thigh so he could shove it through his disheveled hair.

your jaw dropped. in all the years you’d known matt, he'd never talked to you that way. and you weren’t starting a bad habit by letting him think he could ever do it again. you unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed your bag. you tugged on the handle of the door. “i’ll see you at home,” you said.

matt scoffed. “don’t be dramatic.”

“i’m not being ‘dramatic,’ matthew. you’re being an asshole.” you braced yourself for the cold as the door opened and let in a cold breeze.

matthew called your name, but you ignored him and slammed the car door shut. it was a little petty, considering how matt had berated his siblings over the same thing.

a car honked, probably because the light had turned green and matt was still sitting at the light, looking at you.

a cold wind blew and for a moment, you thought about hopping back in the car with matt, but he was pulling away and your pride wasn’t ready to take a hit just yet.

his car sped away until, with an efficiency you only wish you had, he parallel parked in a spot just up the road.

“get in the car,” he called, slamming his car door shut. “it’s too cold for you to be proving a point.”

“and what point am i trying to prove, matthew?” you asked over your shoulder.

you kept walking.

“would you please stop walking and just get back in the car?”

you kept walking.

a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, you might’ve shrieked had it not been gentle, had you not recognized the scent of matt’s cologne.

gently, he turned you around.

“baby, just get in the car. you don’t even have to talk to me. don't even have to look at me if you don’t want to. i’ll sleep on the couch or something, but it’s not safe for you to be walking home alone.” he ran his thumb back and forth over your pulse point in a soothing manner.

you kept your eyes on his hand. “what happened during the game?

he sighed, shoulders sagging like they were tired from carrying the weight of the world. “they were talking shit.”

you blinked. “and that’s different....how?”

with the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “they were talking shit about you. saying you deserved better and shit.”

“matthew, you know that’s not true—”

“they called you names.” his voice was dark, angrier than you'd ever heard before. “things i’m not comfortable repeating.”

a shiver went down your spine, for matt to be that upset made you uncomfortable. you didn’t want to think about what they said, you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer.

“well,” you said, voice feeling small and weak in your throat. “well, we know it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter.” you tried to make your way back to the car, but matt’s grip on your wrist stopped you.

“but it does matter,” he insisted. “what they said, i get it wasn't true, you and i both know that. but i’m not gonna let anyone talk shit about you, i don’t care who they are.”

your eyes finally met his own and in the blue you saw determination and conviction there. you started towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“i love you, matty.”

he kissed the top of your head. “love you more.”

after

“where are you going?” your mom asked from the couch.

your dad looked up from his james patterson book to squint at your outfit: a square neck black dress. “are you going out?” he chimed in.

you felt sheepish, like the fifteen year old girl going on her first solo date, no parents picking her up because matt just got his license. “remember that guy i went on a double date with?”

“with simone and her husband?” you mom asked.

you nodded. “we’re going out again, just us tonight.”

your mother gave you a small smile while you dad kept staring. “have fun, sweetheart.”

your dad, however, put his book down and looked at you above the rim of his glasses. “are you gonna be okay?”

“alan, this will be good for her!”

but your dad’s eyes never left your face. “you’ll call if you need something?”

“andrew’s a good guy, dad.” or at least, you were assuming so. you’d only met the guy one other time and he seemed alright.

but you could see the look in your father’s eyes, you could hear what he wasn’t saying.

so was matthew.

you swallowed and nodded at your parents. your phone pinged with a notification that your uber was outside. “i’ll be back.”

the drive to the bar was silent. usually, you wouldn’t have taken an uber, but you were unsure how drunk you would get tonight. the date could go well, it could be everything you wanted, even if all you wanted was matthew. 

but you were prepared for the worst. you were prepared to drink until you couldn’t see straight just to get through the night.

andrew was a nice guy, but he wasn’t who you wanted.

and you hated yourself for it.

the uber pulled up to the bar. and simply because he didn’t kidnap or talk to you, you gave the driver five stars.

andrew was waiting at a high top table for you, a glass of water ready to go. you waved at him and carefully made your way across the room, avoiding people and drinks and people with drinks.

“hey,” he greeted.

you gave him a small smile. “hi.”

“was traffic bad on your way here? i wasn’t sure, given that it’s friday and what not.”

you shook your head. “not too bad.” 

c’mon, think of something. say something. anything.

“crazy busy tonight, huh?” you wanted to facepalm. that was what you came up with? all the words in the world and that was what you—

“yeah,” andrew cut off your mental tirade. “i think some famous guys are here tonight, heard murmurs of it.”

you nearly broke out into a cold sweat. “d-do you know who?”

andrew shrugged. “i didn’t ask, i just heard someone talking about it when i was getting a drink.” then, like he finally realized, he snapped. “do you want anything? i can grab it for you.”

you gave him your drink order with a smile. he tapped the table with his knuckles before promising he'd be right back.

you traced the grain of the table with your finger, allowing it to feel the grooves and water stains left from other customers. it felt awkward, sitting by yourself with no one to talk to. andrew said he'd be back, but the bar was busy, it could be ten, fifteen minutes before he'd come back.

your phone buzzed.

simone: 

how’s it going?

you smiled despite yourself. 

you:

he’s nice. he went to get me a drink.

you put your phone down to look around the bar. it was busier than normal, or at least, what you thought was normal.

you were scrolling through your social media feeds when andrew finally came back. he had your drink in hand with a smile on his face.

“sorry, the line took forever,” he said.

you glanced at the bar to see a small crowd of people. “doesn’t surprise me,” you said. “friday’s are usually busy.”

“yeah especially when there’s two hockey players in town. heard someone at the bar talking about it, thought you might wanna know. simone said you were a fan?”

your stomach dropped to your feet. you took a hefty sip of your drink to avoid andrew seeing a frown on your face. there was a chance that it was a blues player still in town, but your gut knew better. if you were a betting woman, you'd bet your last dollar on it being brady and matt.

you wanted to throw up.

instead, you chugged the drink.

“whoa, you okay?” andrew’s eyes widened a little, maybe in concern, but there was something about the smirk on his face that said otherwise.

you gave him a shaky smile. “just fine. can i get another drink?”

he smiled immediately and got up to get you another.

and another.

and another.

your vision was blurring a little when you tried to cut yourself off, even as andrew was sliding another glass in front of you. you threw the drink back again, not even blinking at it.

matt and brady could be here. it was too soon to see them again, you weren't prepared to see them again. maybe if you drank enough, you’d black out and forget all about tonight.

but then andrew was grabbing your elbow, he was leading you towards the door, encroaching upon your personal space. his lips were on your neck, whispers of what he had planned for you.

your skin crawled, you wanted him off of you, but your arms were sluggish, you were tripping over your feet and he was the only thing holding you up.

“no,” you slurred. “lemme go.”

but he either didn’t hear you or was ignoring you because he kept dragging you to the door.

then the panic set in.

it felt like it came out of nowhere, but maybe the surmounting panic was always there like a loyal friend. you tried squirming out of his grip, shoving at his chest, but the panic was building the longer he held onto you. your head was shaking furiously, your mouth doing its best to protest, but it was like the alcohol made your tongue heavy.

“lemme go—” you tried shoving one more time before you heard a shout in the distance. 

“hey!” you weren’t aware of the people around you being shoved to the side, you were unaware of the rage surrounding you. you were unaware until andrew was ripped away and you were being shoved into another body.

“matt hey—”

brady. you were right, brady was here.

god you loved brady.

“brady?” you slurred, smiling lazily up at him. “you’re here! why’re you here?”

with one arm, brady kept you pressed to him, but he wasn’t acknowledging you. his eyes were focused on his brother holding the collar of your date.

oh. your date.

there was no rhyme or reason for the feeling of horror that washed over you when you realized what almost happened before matt and brady showed up.

you were gonna throw up.

or pass out.

you weren’t sure when you started hyperventilating, but it felt like the walls were closing in. was the music always this loud? was matt always that loud when yelling? you wouldn’t know, he hardly ever yelled at you—

“hey,” brady’s gentle voice sounded it your ear, but it was like you were hearing it from underwater. “hey, breathe, it’s okay. you’re safe now.”

the funny thing about hyperventilating is no one wants to be hyperventilating. it’s similar to worrying in that telling someone to stop worrying is ineffective. brady telling you to breathe wasn’t helping because it wasn’t like you wanted to be light headed and struggling to get oxygen.

your mind was just racing with the thoughts of what almost happened.

were your hands shaking? or was the world just rocky? was it the alcohol? why did andrew give you so much? was he planning on—

oh god.

oh god.

“matt!” brady’s voice again sounding like a deep echo in a cave, one you could barely hear. “matt, i think he got the point, she needs you.”

did you?

but it didn’t matter what you thought, because you were being gently pulled into a pair of arms you would’ve recognized anywhere. you could be deaf, blind, and mute, you could’ve had your nose plugged so you couldn’t smell his aftershave and you still would’ve known it was matt. his arms were the only ones that felt like home.

maybe it was the way your head tucked under his chin perfectly, or the way you could hold your own hand when you wrapped your arms around his waist. maybe it was the way matt tried to fit you into his ribcage whenever he hugged you.

“hey,” his voice was quiet, hoarse from the yelling probably. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna hurt you, not while i’m here.” his lips were on the top of your head, mumbling the words into your hair.

“he—he was gonna—”

matt was shushing you, running a hand up and down your back. “do you wanna go outside? get some fresh air?” you nodded against his chest, a place you used to lay your head on at night.

matt walked you outside, brady not far behind. he was supporting most of your weight. you were still incredibly drunk even if the event that just happened sobered you up a little.

your hands were still shaking, your knees a little weak, though you weren’t sure what the original cause of that was. if it was from alcohol, the sleazy date, or just being held by your ex, you weren’t sure.

what a year tonight has been.

your heartbeat slowed down as you listened to matt’s. his hand continued to rub your back in long lines.

“you’re okay,” he continued to say. “i’m not gonna leave you. you’re safe right here, baby.”

your heart soared at the pet name until gravity kicked in and you were right back where you started.

rock bottom.

you pushed away from matt, now that your heart rate had decreased. you stumbled a bit from the lack of stability, but you managed to right yourself before matt could get his hands on you to help you balance.

“you okay?” he asked.

“no,” you mumbled, shaking your head despite the world feeling like it was spinning too fast already. “no. i’m not okay.”

matt took a step towards you, it was like watching a film in slow motion, seeing his face fall as you immediately took a step back.

“baby i—”

“stop! stop calling me that!” you yelled even as your words slurred, throwing your hands up in the air before pulling at your hair. “you—you don’t get to call me that, not anymore. and you certainly don’t get to ride in like some white knight coming to my rescue either!”

“what’re you—” he cut himself off before running a hand down his face. “he was going to hurt you, i wasn’t going to let that happen!”

maybe it was the alcohol that made you more honest than normal. “why? you don’t seem to care what happens anyway?”

“what the hell are you talking about? i would never let someone hurt you, not if i can stop it.”

“but you had no problem hurting me? leaving me in a country alone?”

matt’s jaw dropped. “you can’t seriously be comparing the two. he—he almost—he had every intention of—” but he kept cutting himself off. and by the looks of his clenched fists, it was hurting him more just thinking about it.

and he was right, what almost happened with andrew and what actually happened at the hands of matt were two different things, but it hurt more from matt, the man who swore he’d be at your side, to love you through it all. he’d dropped you like a bad habit and was expecting everything to be normal again? like you hadn’t spent over half your life completely in love with him?

you sighed, your shoulders sagged, all fight evaporating your body once more. “thanks for help, i’ll see you around.” you turned on your heel and nearly ran into brady, whom you forgot was even there.

“let me drive you home,” brady said. “‘s the least i could do.”

brady at least let you sit shotgun this time, with matt in the back. and when he pulled up to your house, matt was the one to walk you to the door like he had many times before.

“can we talk?” he asked. “sometime this week? or next? or whenever you're free?”

you looked at him, really looked at him. his hands shook at his sides and you longed to hold them in your own to steady them like he did for you earlier. “why’re you doing this to me? why can’t you just leave me be?”

matt stared at you before he pressed his lips together. he looked off to the side almost like he was looking at brady waiting in the car or a scrap of self control, or maybe just the right words to say. “i don’t think i’m capable of letting you go.”

your voice caught on the words in your throat. “i need you to try, matt. because i can’t keep doing this. you can’t call me baby when i’m not your baby anymore.”

he nodded. “just one conversation, i promise.”

you should say no. you should just let it go, but you didn’t think you could deny matt anything if he really asked for it. “okay,” you said. “just one conversation.”

[cleolinda]

I'm gonna admit that I got on Twitter like a big ol' dramatic dork last night and said, knowing full well that Elon Musk was doing exactly this, "If he changes the name to X, I'm out, I can't do this anymore."

Not because "X" is doofy and a terrible branding move, although it is, but because he wants to do THIS shit. Yeah, no, I am not hanging around for your global interactivity "everything app" bullshit. You want me to fucking BANK with you? YOU? You just lost about $30B running a platform into the GROUND by FIRING EVERYONE and doing whatever damn thing popped into your head between shitposts? Are you HIGH? I cannot hang around for this "tech king of the world, 420 blaze it lmao" bullshit. I could not stay at my beloved Livejournal after SUP said all the users would be subject to Russian law in 2017. I know The Moment when I see it. I can't do this.

I admit, I might go back every few months and say "Hey, I posted XYZ on any platform but this, please leave this godforsaken place," and I don't want to delete my accounts. I've been on Twitter since 2008, and I have a ton of livetweet threads (on my main and also on an alt for that purpose. Remember that time I livetweeted the Twilight gender-change book? That glorious trainwreck?). I've saved some of them via Thread Reader PDF downloads, but there are still more to get. I don't want to utterly destroy book and TV discussion we did over there.

I haven't used Twitter regularly since maybe 2016 (about the time the post-Gamergate alt-right really moved in), but the conversation and community, decentralized though it was, before that--we're going to lose the last vestiges of that, the way everyone on Reddit was upset about losing the collective knowledge over there. And I'm so fucking angry about it. I'm so angry. I immediately came back here the week he took over last year because I knew, I KNEW, somehow that Twitter would be destroyed. I just thought it would burn down in a smoking heap of rubble, not turned into a shambling tech zombie under a different name. I just. I can't do this anymore.

Also, shut the fuck up, Linda Yaccarino. Just because you can put Elon Musk's nonsense into coherent verbiage doesn't mean "a global social media/marketplace/banking system/walled garden that's basically X-Treme AOL" isn't a fucking nightmare. I hope the EU bans the fuck out of you both. See you in bankruptcy court.

[tjalexandernyc]

Say hello to Triple Sec, out June 4, 2024 from Simon & Schuster! (Art by Petra Braun.)

It’s queer! It’s poly! It’s cocktails!!! Official synopsis below the cut.

A jaded bartender is wooed by a charmingly quirky couple in this fresh and sizzling polyamorous rom-com, set in the exclusive world of high-end cocktail bars—from the acclaimed author of the “tender, decadent, and sparklingly funny” (Lana Harper, New York Times bestselling author) Chef’s Choice. As a bartender at Terror & Virtue, a swanky New York City cocktail lounge known for its romantic atmosphere and Insta-worthy drinks, Mel has witnessed plenty of disastrous dates. That, coupled with her own romantic life being in shambles, has Mel convinced love doesn’t exist. Everything changes when Bebe walks into the bar. She’s beautiful, funny, knows her whiskeys—and is happily married to her partner, Kade. Mel’s resigned to forget the whole thing, but Bebe makes her a unique offer: since she and Kade have an open marriage, she’s interested in taking Mel on a date. What starts as a fun romp turns into a burgeoning relationship, and soon Mel is trying all sorts of things she’d been avoiding, from grand romantic gestures to steamy exploits. Mel even gets the self-confidence to enter a cocktail competition that would make her dream of opening her own bar a reality. In the chaotic whirl of all these new experiences, Mel realizes there might be a spark between her and Kade, too. As Bebe, Kade, and Mel explore their connections, Mel begins to think that real love might be more expansive than she ever thought possible. With TJ Alexander’s signature “witty and insightful voice, complex characters, and full-throated celebration of the joy of queer community” (Ava Wilder, author of How to Fake It in Hollywood), Triple Sec is a passionate, thirst-quenching love story that will have you asking for another round…or three.

You know the drill, folks!! I am asking/begging you to please spread the word and help me out. This book is a VERY different kind of romance and I am desperate for it to find its audience. Here are some ways you can help me:

Pre-order. I know, I know, June 4 is forever away but it really is the biggest thing. Pre-ordering is a gift to yourself and to authors who would really like to hit some kind of bestseller list some day. If you don’t want to pre-order now, consider putting a note in your calendar to buy it on June 4?

Add the book to your GoodReads or Storygraph TBR.

Share my pinned posts on Instagram or tumblr.

Tell your local bookstore or library (or both!) to stock this book.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! Next round’s on me.

[thefirstknife]

My grimoire arrived and I'm in shambles. Partners in Light, aka a grimoire focused on Ghosts and Ghost lore. Ghost Stories is in here, and Lucent Tales. Luna's Lost as well, chosen lore tabs about Targe, Ophiuchus, Drifter's Ghost and Glint. There's a whole section about Sagira, which includes the entirety of Immolant and has destroyed me. Some stunning art from the book:

Ghost rezing us for the first time (this one was also recently posted by the artist)! Also yes, Thin Line lore tab is here as well. Next, from Ghost Stories, Cyrell the Ghost Hunter and YES, GHOST COMMUNITY THEATRE ART:

Eris and Brya (I'm in shambles), Zavala and Targe, Ikora and Ophiuchus:

Drifter and his Ghost (specifically the scene where he's dying of starvation, as you'll notice the scorpion by his feet, from here. Thank you for this emotional destruction):

The first Vanguard squad (portions of The Pigeon and the Phoenix are included), as I do believe the Hunter is supposed to be Tallulah, based on the fact that you can see The Bombardiers, her exotic pants (also I believe the bow on her back is Tyranny of Heaven, with lore of how she died):

Crow and Glint from the lore when he visits Venus:

I already posted the other Crow and Glint art because it was posted officially by the artist, I really can't wait for the rest to also be posted digitally because they're absolutely incredible. There's also more art in there, I only posted a few.

[lostinforestbound]

Do u have Any headcanons for an inexperienced (in relationship/intimacy) Tav x Rolan dynamic? Like how would Rolan, who is already awkward af and horrible at expressing his feelings, handle a unexpected situation as that…

Oh wow what a topic! I can certainly do my best! I personally headcanon as Rolan being a bit inexperienced so this kind of dynamic would be quite the mess.

Rolan with an Inexperienced Tav

CW: Suggestive (Last two bullet points)

Rolan is inexperienced himself, so I can only imagine what kind of mess it is to navigate his relationship with Tav. It's a disaster, but it's a disaster they work on together!

I can only imagine the thoughts running through his head as he realizes Tav is inexperienced too, and they're everywhere at once: "Should they be leading or should I? Who takes out who on dates? Both of them and I surely, but what is the expectation? What if I cling onto them? What if I fuck this up?"

His communication skills are terrible, and it's something he actively tries to work through, but early into the relationship it causes problems. One of them is Rolan working much longer hours.

He overworks himself all the time, with both the tower and Sorcerous Sundries. Everything is in shambles, at least in terms of organization. No, he doesn't have time to talk right now because all these spell books are in the wrong sections-

It causes a strain. A lot of this comes from Rolan feeling inadequate and undeserving of them. At some point, it boils over and they have their first fight. They complain about he never spends time with them while he argues back that he can't leave the tower a mess, and his studies are important.

After they both storm off, cool down, and have a serious talk, they manage to work through the issue. He promises to be more present; he truly loves them and wants this to work out.

They figure out together that his insecurities are driving him to madness, and one night they finally talk about everything. Over some Arabellan Dry (or tea, coffee, etc.) they set boundaries, expectations, likes and dislikes, the entire works.

Rolan feel more comfortable, after that. He starts being more affectionate (in private), spending his free time with them, cooking with them, going on walks and dates; it's incredible as it is nerve wracking.

In regard to more intimate matters, the first few times are definitely clumsy! He has no idea what they like, or what he likes for that matter. A lot of experimenting happens in this phase! Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but it's a learning process!

Whenever Rolan gets frustrated with it, more so embarrassed by some mistakes, Tav always finds a way to make him laugh it off. He's thankful for it, especially if he accidentally hurt them in some way. He still apologizes, either way.

[presleyheart]

Hello!! I was wondering if I could request a 70s Elvis X reader fic where before a concert, Elvis is really nervous(stage fright) and he doesn't usually tell reader that he is so after a bit of observing reader finally comforts him?

Take all the time you need, of course!

OMG OMG!!! Of course! I'd love to do this ^^ I feel like this is on par w/ Elvis having anxiety!! My first request!!! YAY! Sorry if it's bad lolol it's early in the AM but I'm so eager to write for you <3 So sorry if it's short, too.

"Walk A Mile In My Shoes" https://open.spotify.com/track/3TYiPU151GF7VASDPzk74Y?si=858262a5d85c419c Pairing 70s!TTWII!Elvis x gn!reader TW: mentions of !! Anxiety, light swearing, skin picking, throwing up !! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- It was 1970. Elvis was filming a new film, more-so like a documentary. Cameras were following you two around everywhere. No matter where Elvis went there was already a camera. He's absolutely been on edge. Every time you'd ask him, he'd say he was fine. You trusted him. What's the worst that could happen? Elvis has always sort've been a busy uptight man whenever it comes to concerts. This shouldn't be any different. ______ ______ You were tending to things backstage.

Everything was going perfectly. You saw Elvis come out of his dressing room; he decided the jumpsuit of tonight would be his Fringe Jumpsuit. No cape. Once he had exited, you could see by his posture something was off.

"Satnin." He had said, he went straight for you. "Hm?" You responded, looking at him. He was slightly taller than you so you had to look up to him a bit.

He immediately pulled you into a soft embrace. You could hear his heart thumping in his chest. "What's wrong?" Is all you could have mustered. He had you buried against him tightly.

He hadn't made a response. He was breathing lightly. He eventually pulled away after a few moments.

"Nothin'.. I just wanted to hold you'a moment." He responded. He was absolutely in shambles over something.

He had started picking at his face a bit and he looked almost queasy inside of his jumpsuit. He wanted to crawl out of his skin and hide from the looks of it. He was a mess. His eyes were red

"C'mon." You said. You had looked him up and down as you drug him to a spot to sit backstage.

"Y/N?-" "No." "Whad'dya think you're doin'?"

The expression on his face and posture said it all. You could tell how sensitive he was. His friends kept looking over but you shot a mean glare. They'd rather stay out of it rather than hear you "bitch up a storm" as they put it.

"Your heart is about to beat out your chest, Elvis." You answered. He looked around at the suffocating room pathetically, pawing at his seat. He twiddled his thumbs and just kept looking away shyly.

"Tell me what's going on." You demanded. Elvis failed to communicate his emotions too often.

You had been together for almost 3 years now and he was still nervous to express certain emotions. His past relationships had really caused emotional scarring on him.

"...'m anxious.. I-I..I don't understand why. I been doin' this for 'bout 16 years." He stated. He couldn't bear eye contact. He sighed softly. "It's all of these damn cameras, baby. I promise I'm okay. Jus' bein' a damn cry baby. Lem'me go"

You felt like you were ready to scream. He was very clearly anxious and tired. He looked ready to throw up, almost. He also couldn't bear to even look at you. Like he was ashamed to have feelings. It was heartbreaking.

"Look'ah me." You said, kneeling down in front of him. "What?" He says pitifully. He looks into your eyes. You could see how exhausted he was. There was no excuse for this.

You wished he could rest for only a moment, but sadly Colonel has him booked back to back. He had been acting off all week since his first concert of the month. It was like watching someone go insane, and it drove you crazier than him when he didn't even tell you.

"It's okay to be nervous.. It isn't okay not to tell me." "I-I know," He stammered; "Jus' hate bein' a burden.. y'know this"

You sighed and gently kissed him. You let him lean his head into your shoulder. He's always been a sucker for attention. He's needed someone like you after his mother had passed.

He needed love. And you were beyond certain you could give it to him.

"You're never going to be a burden. I love you so much. I understand how worried you must be, but just think.. All these people paid this money to see you. You have never let them down, and surely you won't let them down tonight." You knew exactly what to say to calm him down. You had learned quite a bit by being with him what most of the things were that he was insecure about. "Promise me?" He muttered into your shoulder "I promise." You responded, almost in a whisper. He pulled his head up fully.

"Look at'cha.. cheerin' this ol' man up." "Easy now.. you're hardly 30." "You're funny. I'm halfway through. 35." "30-shmirty. You're still a baby deep down." "Am not." "Are too."

He chuckled softly. "My baby. I love you most. Ever. Don't start tryna fight me on it, neither." He said to you. You just smiled, nodding at him. "Whatever."

He actually forgot about his anxieties. This was perfect. All you've ever wanted was for him to be happy. It was another thing to bring him happiness. Makes life a little worth living.

He eventually pulled away and nodded. He trusted you more than anything. Yet, sadly, your sweet moment was interrupted as one of his friends called over.

"E.P.! There is 5 minutes!"

You pulled away from Elvis softly. "Go on now, you'll do just fine." "I know, thank you." He says. Straight to the point. No hesitation. He had all the trust he could gather set on you.

His heart rate went to a normal speed for right now and he stared at you with adoring eyes. He kissed you on the forehead before getting up and walking towards the edges of the curtains, with his friends, coworkers, whatever. All of the fans were hollering as the lights dimmed.

"Shit, man.. I don't understand what took you so long." His friend made a snarky comment at Elvis. Even if Elvis wasn't even late. Elvis glanced over at you. He smiled a bit.

"Walk a mile in my shoes, Charlie. Then you'll get it."

The intro started and Elvis was ready to go, with a little help from his #1 fan. -----------------------------------------------------------------------

[emmyrosee]

@llovelykris I got your ask and I do enjoy it a lot, but please understand I did change the prompt slightly, so I could feel as comfortable I could with writing it ❤️

Tw // nightmares, night terrors, mentions of death

—-

It’s the fourth night in a row this shit woke you up.

Tonight, the nightmare completely had you blindsided, a deep-rooted terror that you should be completely accustomed to facing, but tonight for one reason or another, this one in particular was… aggressive.

Maybe it’s because Bakugou was right next to you. Maybe it’s because it’s been a few days since you heard from your family. Whatever the case, it snapped you cold out of a sleep, and you were far from being ready to sleep again, where as nights just prior, you'd been able to doze back off.

With a small grunt of effort you swing your legs over the side of the bed and toe on some slippers, letting your exhausted bones shamble you into the kitchen. You rest your pounding head against the coldness of the fridge and after waiting a moment for your world to stop spinning, you grab the container of grapes, letting the initial tartness ground you.

It was just a nightmare. Just a fucking nightamare, why is this the nightmare that's going to keep you up?

“The hell are you doing up?”

You turn from your bowl of grapes to face your interrupter, whose hair is somehow more wild and crazy, and his cheeks rosy from being pulled from sleep. You shrug and look back down at your fruit, “just… couldn’t sleep.”

“You were knocked out when I got up to pee an hour ago,” he says, voice grumbling. You chuckle softly at the silly phrasing, and you grab a grape, holding it up for him to take with his teeth. He does, and he opens the fridge to take a sip of milk straight out of the carton.

You scoff, “I told you not to do that.”

“And I told you that you’re not usually supposed to see when I do it.” You offer him a string of laughter, grateful for his attempts of making you at ease. There’s a low arm that wraps around your waist, and a forehead that rests against your temple. “You wanna talk about it?”

“You’ve got milk breath,” you tease. You earn a pinch to the ribs to make you yelp and squirm slightly away from him, and he chuckles before pulling you back and closer.

“Don’t be a damn ass. Don’t want you stayin’ up if it’s something we can work through together.”

Goosebumps raise over your skin and you gnaw at your lip, fingers messing with the container you’re holding. You take a deep breath, waiting for him to press and pry further, but he doesn’t. Katsuki never does, even if he wants to pretend like he’s not, he’s the most patient and understanding soul that you’ve had the privilege to know, and right now, you hate him for respecting your boundaries. You want him to jump to conclusions and make his own judgement about you and your struggles, but he doesn’t. He just lets out rhythmic breathing against your pounding head.

“I just had a nightmare,” you say, minimizing the magnitude of your distress. “It’s fine.”

He snarls softly in the back of his throat, “stop lying to me, fucking god. This isn’t my first rodeo, I can read you like a book. Spill, or we’re gonna keep our asses planted right damn here.”

You gnaw at your lip and gently pull away from him. You do anything and everything to avoid having to talk to him: putting the fruit away, filling a cup with water before chugging it down to relieve your cottonmouth, cracking your toes against the hardwood, anything to break up the silence.

But he’s not budging.

It’s something you both admire and hate about Katsuki, when his mind tells him something is important, he’s not moving from it. It’s a healthy form of communication, up until you literally would rather do anything but talk to him.

And even then, he’s unrelenting.

“You’re gonna love me regardless of what I say, right? This won’t make you unlove me?”

“I’ll give you a firm ‘probably,’” he says in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you don’t laugh. He sighs softly and nods, “of course not. There’s minimal you could do to make me not like you, unfortunately.”

That, finally, does make you laugh, and you nod softly as you try to find the easiest way to explain your trauma from these nightmares, your fears and concerns, yet familiarity with them and how sometimes, that’s the scariest part of them all.

They’re so familiar. They’re so vivid. Sometimes, you can’t tell which is real. And that’s terrifying, and something you never thought you’d have to face with Katsuki.

“They’re… theyre dark, Katsuki,” you say lowly, averting your gaze. “There’s a lot of destruction and death and shit I don’t want to face in real life, death and shit for people I love most, and they’ve plagued my nightmares for years and it’s just something I have to deal with now. And I try to keep them out of my life if I can help it.”

He says nothing, you almost wonder if he feels guilty for “forcing” you to say what happens- he never actually forced you to say it, but Katsuki roams in his own layer of insecurity for pushing you. You sigh and angle your head to look at him, his eyes soft and teeth sinking into his lip.

“But… but I can’t,” you snarl softly, brows furrowing slightly. “I’ve tried so hard for years, I’ve done everything I could do to break these damn terrors but nothing fucking works, and sometimes, I just need to not be near people when they happen because I’m terrified they’ll become real, okay?”

He moves his gaze softly, “you’re… you’re really strong for having to go through that.”

You snort, “yeah. Thanks.”

“I mean it.” He takes a small step back to give you some room, eyes gently flicking up and down as if to ensure you were alright. “That’s some traumatizing shit. And I wish I could make it easier.” His words have you softening, shifting to rest back into his arms. You burrow your face in the dip of his pec’s, and his arms tighten around you protectively.

You sigh, “it’s just… hard to tell people about it. This shit doesn’t make me a bad person, and it’s always taken so far-“

“Of fuckin’ course you’re not a bad person,” he grumbles, pulling back again to have you look at him again; there’s confidence in his gaze, and it has you reeling slightly. “You’ve got no fuckin’ say in what happens in your dreams, and anyone who’s made you feel bad about them isn’t someone who deserves your damn time.”

You swallow back your embarrassment and look at him pitifully, “you don’t think I’m… bad? Or scary?”

He rolls his eyes, “do I fuckin’ seem like I’m scared to you? I’m up at ass crack of morning, freezing my balls off to coddle you in the damn middle of the kitchen. You couldn’t scare a bunny if you tried, let alone my stubborn ass.”

His grumbles do have you laughing watery against his chest, closing your eyes and just letting the relief of his lack of judgement course through your heavy veins.

“You don’t have to worry about them becoming real. I’d never let shit happen to you, or your family, or friends, or anyone; especially the shit your mind conjures up. Never.” His words are firm and comforting, and they have your eyes closing as you’re soothed.

These terrors may haunt you. Who knows when they’ll break. But as long as you can talk about them, discuss them with someone you worship and adore, maybe, just maybe, you can gather the strength to get through a night’s sleep.

One of peace. One you’re convinced you now deserve.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Exhale Inhale

Gale x F! Tav (named)

18+ hurt/comfort, feelings of guilt/inadequacy, allusions to self-harm, mentions of sex work, rough sex (with safewords used), sub Gale/ dombrat Tav, dirty talk, endurance play, (light) gender play, restraint, handjob, pegging, prostate orgasm, aftercare, tenderness, porn w/ light plot

After Aurum took a hard hit in battle, Gale blames himself for a break in his concentration. Requesting they practice something a little rough for him to hone his skills...

Masterlist, More Aurum and Gale

-

His body bristled with anger across the room, hands clenching and snapping down on various utensils as he cooked.

"Gale's in a way tonight, isn't he?" Karlach remarked, clear concern in her eyes.

"I know what this is about." Aurum sighed, the ache under her bandages agreeing.

"Oh come on, that wasn't even that bad of a hit." Karlach scoffed, eyeing her hand gently cupped over her ribs.

"I agree, I've had far worse."

"Ohh man, do you remember that time in the Shadowlands when that Shambling Mound got your arm? Had to teach Shadowheart how to reset a dislocated shoulder in the field!" Karlach pantomimed pulling with two hands.

Gale slammed down a bowl across the room.

"Oh, whoops. Think I made it worse." Karlach rubbed her neck, voice lowering back to a private level.

"I'll settle him." Aurum patted Karlach's bicep in reassurance.

"You do have such a way with him. Go get 'em Sunshine." Karlach's warm hand urged her forward by the small of her back.

Aurum glided down the steps into the sunken room where the hearth lay. Passing Astarion who gave her a downturned stare, fluttering his eyes over at Gale. Communicating through eyes as they often did.

Loud... can you please...?

She tilted her head at him reproachfully, but gave a small lift of her eyebrows and sliding of eyes to assure him.

I got it, you asshole.

He smiled at her and returned to his book with a toss of his legs on the chaise lounge.

She shook her head at him ruefully and approached the tense back of her beloved wizard.

"Hello, my love." She hushed, sliding her hand up the middle of his spine, letting it rest between shoulder blades.

He leaned back into her instinctively, letting out a small sigh. Hand releasing the ladle he had been spinning onto the lip of the pot.

"You're still upset." A soft statement, her other hand coming up around his middle. Palm gently pushing at the crest of his ribs. Her hands an anchoring, her gentle force weighing his torso.

"Very." He started to bristle again.

She expected this, stepping up to rest her temple inside of his shoulder. Another weight to bring his body back down.

"I understand." She whispered. "You feel like you let me down today."

He nodded, his chest hitching slightly under her palm. His guilt keeping him from stepping back into her embrace as he usually would.

"Do you want to talk about this now or later?" She turned her head into the curve, nestling down.

He did step back into her then, letting out a slow breath. Pressing into the sunlight heat of her chest. Her hand at his back winding around to meet the other at his front. Encircling him. Palms overlapping along his heart.

"Later." He sighed, body relaxing into hers in a small heave.

She smiled into his shoulder, holding him closer.

"That's what I'd like too." She hummed. "Can you take a big deep breath with me?"

She expanded her chest in a breath against his back. Feeling his chest fill under her hands a little after hers. Letting it out in a soft purse of her lips against his shoulder. His following in tandem. Giving one more deep fill and release, feeling the tension in his back dissipate slightly.

"Thank you." She sighed quietly, rubbing a small circle into his chest.

His head bent forward, hands coming to cup over hers.

"I don't deserve you. Flowers bend to your light in prayer." His voice low in reverence, guilt sliding back under the words.

"You do." She hummed easily. Kissing the soft skin above his collar. "You still do, and you always did."

She wound her fingers into his. Pushing language into him.

Good. After. Talk. Relax.

He took another deep breath independently. Responding in assured fingers.

Know. Try. Thank you. I love you.

She patted his chest with her quiet hand.

I love you. Back. Work. Focus.

He laughed quietly, picking up his ladle.

"Loud and clear." He teased.

-

Aurum rubbed a small amount of burn ointment into the angry bubbled skin under her breast. Letting out a small wince of breath. The full force of Lorroakan's Lighting Bolt had struck through her chest, just below her heart.

She had said it wasn't that bad, but it had knocked her back into a wall. Nearly blacking out, ripping the breath out of her. The sunburst activated in overdrive, a near involuntary Sunbeam ripping from her. The shard of false sun protecting its vessel. Dame Aylin bringing two winding strikes over her head, bellowing out in rage at her expense, finally taking him down.

Shadowheart had worked her healing, but a palm sized charred semicircle still lingered. A smaller exiting wound sat at the edge of her spine, having to twist her elbow back to rub with the edge of her fingers. Taking shallow breaths that she forced slow and even.

Gale entered their private chambers behind her. His steps pausing short at the threshold after closing the door softly behind him.

She craned her neck, sitting on the bed facing the balcony. Fingers still struggling to find purchase.

"Can you help me, baby? I can't quite..."

He took a shuddering breath in, coming to her side. His weight taking up on the mattress.

She handed back the small pot of ointment and turned her back towards him. Folding her legs under her.

His breath filled as if about to speak, once, then twice. Fingers gently swirling cool balm into her.

"Take your time." She encouraged softly, reaching back to squeeze his thigh.

He carefully positioned the fresh bandage over the wound, pressing down with the palm of his hand. Pressing his sorrow into her.

"I'm so sorry." He shuddered. "I'm a better wizard than that, my concentration is better than that. I fucked up. Gods, it almost hit your heart."

His voice was descending slowly into restrained tears.

"I had you. I had Protection from Good and Evil covering. But that barrage of Magic Missiles..."

"I know," She hummed, thumb arcing in slow waves on his knee. "You got hit hard."

"He wanted to break my protection. He wanted Aylin, I know. But I think he wanted you too." His voice shook in anger. "He could see your light, I saw it. Under your covering. He had some fascination, I could tell."

She tilted her head, raising one eyebrow in agreement. She noticed too.

It was not the first time a powerful man had taken interest in the false sun in her chest. That was part of the reason she covered her chest in bandages in public, besides the obvious constant interruption it was in crowds.

She had left it open in the Shadowlands, if just for morale. Some point of light keeping a sense of sanity among them. It had helped the denizens at Last Light Inn too. Isobel especially finding it reassuring. Joking that she wasn't the only light anymore.

But in Lower City? She would be mad to leave it uncovered.

Gods, her father knew exactly what he was doing, making her a walking spectacle. An incredibly effective tool in his subset.

"Men like that deserve what they get." Gale growled.

She chuckled darkly. Knowing he was only referring to Lorroakan, but his wisdom ringing ever true.

"He's quite dead now, and both Aylin and I are safe, Gale."

"But not unscathed..." He hushed.

She turned, pulling her robe up around her shoulders.

"No, not unscathed. And not more wounded, with you there."

"I hate when you're so gentle with me when I hurt you." Holding his hand up to pause her rebuttal. "When I've allowed you to be hurt."

She wanted to argue, but respected the request of his hand still held in a bid for silence.

"I want to practice, so this doesn't happen again. And I want you to punish me."

Her breath drew in slow, heart pulsing in an ache. She had always known, on some level, that he sought pain. Not the exploring delicious kind found in bed, but true pain. The kind given to those who believed they deserved it.

"I can hurt you, Gale. If you want. But not like that." She slid forward, hand rising over his heart again.

"I can only do play pain, okay?" She hushed.

He took a shaky breath out, both disappointment and relief released in it.

"Okay... thank you."

"I started a bath for you." She smiled, kissing his jaw. "Go get clean and loose. I'll take care of you."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her tenderly.

"You always do."

She slow swayed her hips, eyes closed. Getting in the zone. Hand rising to rub up the soft side of her ribs. Rocking in time to the soft music playing on an enchanted crystal on the dresser. A deep winding beat carrying her away into a sensual wave.

Thinking about the brothel that had become her sanctuary in Waterdeep after fleeing the temple. How she had fallen at their step, seeking debauchery to dirty her sterile holy body. But finding cleansing instead. The working women gathering her and making her anew. Teaching her the spirituality of her sex. How to draw desire not only from herself but the rising hymn of finding it in others. Teaching her dance and velvet and the divinity of bruises and bitemarks.

When they had visited Sharess' Caress, she had bounded in, shocking her companions. Waving to the Mamzell, coming up to the stage, smiling up at a familiar face.

Rhol's eyes lit in recognition, smiling down brilliantly at her.

"No way! Golden Lily!" She whispered, leaning down to hug her before returning to dancing. "You're far from The Laughing Lass, aren't you? I've got to get back to work, but go meet the twins!"

How later that night, Gale had come to her uncharacteristically coy. Handing her a list of sexual endeavors he wanted to try.

What she had planned tonight was one of the many on the list.

She twisted in a small circle, pulling the pin holding her long hair atop her head. A wave of burning gold falling and bouncing to the curve of her waist.

"By the Weave, you're going to blind me with your beauty."

She smiled over her shoulder, turning to take him in. The towel tied around his hips a tease, running her hands up his stomach and delighting in the tense in the muscles there. Rising her fingertips up to his chest, fanning out over his broad shoulders. His nipples standing at attention.

"Mmm, your body missed me." She smiled, thumbs arcing playfully over the hard peaks.

"Unbearably." He sighed, hips angling out in an unconscious seeking.

The way his body seemed to remember her, driving forward almost beyond his command, was so endlessly delicious to her.

She hooked her fingers in the fold of the towel, looking up at him in question. Raising her eyebrows up in a playful tick.

"I'm quite ready for you." He rumbled, raising his hand to twist blue fingertips. "Same safewords, if it pleases you."

"It does. Cast away." She purred, watching his wide gorgeous hand sway in sure movements.

Dancing Lights appeared above her head, swimming in playful circles.

She smiled up at them, turning to his still raised hand. Kissing into his palm before he could lower it.

"Then we've started your training, I presume?" She sighed into his hand. Pulling him to her by the loop of towel.

"Yes..." He huffed, her tongue cupping the pad of his thumb.

"I'm not going to go easy on you." She hummed, running her nose up the arch of his pointer finger. "So you'd better focus."

She pulled hard on the towel, looking up at him under her lashes.

"Got it?"

He nodded, face flushed. Mouth hanging slightly open, lost in lust.

"Words, wizard." She commanded, giving the towel another yank.

"Yes, saer."

"Good." She purred, finally pulling the towel away. A pillar already sitting against his belly.

"You do like being directed, don't you?" She smiled appreciatively at him, eyes sliding back up to his.

"Yes, very much." He hushed.

"On the bed, on your knees."

He climbed onto the mattress, rising on knees. Hands folded behind his back.

"Oh, already assuming the position? You are eager tonight." She chuckled, circling behind him. Dropping her robe in a silky pile on the floor in her wake. The dancing lights following her like a halo.

"Yes, very." He sighed.

"Hmm, I'm going to leave you untied. But you keep those hands behind your back, or I stop."

He whined, but his fingers clasped obediently anyway.

"I know!" She giggled, kneeling behind him. "You do love to touch me, but you offered."

She wrapped her hand around his overlapped wrists and pulled. His shoulders arching back, a soft groan woven into his hard breathing.

"You've made your bed, now you're going to lie in it. Aren't you?" She hissed.

He nodded, glazed eyes sliding over his shoulder.

She wound her hand roughly into his hair, pulling his head back in a yank.

"Words. I won't warn you again."

His mouth opened in a wanton pant, hips starting to rock.

"Yes, saer." He gasped.

"Never thought I would have to coax you to talk." She teased. Knee sliding between his thighs, knocking them further open in two strikes. "But here we are."

She pulled his hair back into a ponytail in her palm. Kissing along his shoulder. Other hand rising with a flat palm to his mouth.

"Spit."

His eyes danced uncertainly to hers.

Her closed fingers tapped in warning against his cheek.

"Spit. In my hand." She ordered.

He paused, breath hard.

She smiled, seeing his objection for what it was.

"You want me to hit you again, don't you?"

"Yes."

She cracked her hand against his cheek. He moaned, pushing his shoulders back.

"Bad boy." She whispered into the shell of his ear.

"Spit. Now."

He leaned forward, trailing saliva into her palm. Licking up the curve of her fingers.

"Oh, trying to please me?" She hummed, sliding her hips up to his hand.

"No need." She chirped, pulling his hands down. "Feel."

She pushed her cunt into his curled fingers. His hand scrambling back to cup and dip into her.

"Fuck..." He shuddered, fingers pulling into her arousal.

"I know, you get me so wet." She whispered.

His fingers started seeking out her clit behind him.

"I didn't say you could fuck me. Hands down."

"Aurum..." He moaned, voice already dropping into a beg. "Please let me."

"No." She grasped his cock in her slicked hand, eliciting a whine from low in his throat. Starting to pump tight strokes.

"I'm fucking you tonight."

He froze, his hips rocking into her hand of their own accord. Then dropped forward, pressing his chest to the mattress. Presenting his backside, angling his hips up to her.

"Oh!" She delighted, still wrenching wet strokes from him. "Very good boy!"

"Just for that, you can have your hands back."

He immediately rose one to brace above his head, leaning on a forearm. The other to cup behind her thigh, fingers pulling hard into the back of her leg.

"Thank you." He gasped.

"You're welcome." She leaned forward to kiss the dimples on his lower back. "You're so cute, do you know that? Such a sweetheart."

He turned his head against the mattress, a soft smile pulling along his beautifully flushed face.

"And focusing so well for me." She looked up at the lights still twirling above her head.

Her eyes lowered back on his dangerously.

"But I'm not nearly done with you."

Her hand paused on his cock.

He whimpered, hips trying to drive into her hand. She gripped his hip, hard.

"Stop."

He bit his lip, looking back at her with pleading eyes.

"Oh," She laughed. "Giving me those eyes. You know what you're doing, don't you?"

"You know what, keep your eyes on me." She called a mage hand, appearing at the dresser. Pulling the harness up to her open hand. "I want you to watch me put my cock in you."

His eyes went wide, cock throbbing hard into her stilled hand.

"Shoulders up, you can't see from down there." She smiled, hand leaving his cock to pull up on his chest.

He rose back into a sitting kneel, turning slightly to keep his eyes on her hands. She stood on her knees to tighten down the straps, humming happily as she took her time getting it adjusted to her hips.

"Aurum, please..." He huffed, his hand hovering over his leaking cock.

She raised an eyebrow at him, tightening down the last strap with a snap against her thigh.

"Patience is a virtue."

She pushed hard between his shoulder blades, coming down to purr in his ear.

"But you aren't a virtuous man, are you?"

"No." He gasped, her faux cock rubbing into his backside. "Please, I want your cock in me."

"And what do you need?" She pulled back on his hair, his neck arching open for her.

"I need you. I need you to fuck me. Fuck me full, until I cant think."

"That's going to make keeping your concentration very difficult." She smiled.

"Hey, I love you." She whispered, kissing his cheek sweetly.

He rose onto his elbow, leaning back to kiss her. Seeking desperately as she pulled away playfully.

"Sussur." He commanded. Their word for pause, that he wanted a moment outside of the scenario.

Her face went soft, leaning back down to him.

"Are you okay?" She hushed.

"I need to kiss you, come back to me."

She smiled, pressing back down into his sweet lips. Sliding so tenderly against hers, pulling a soft moan from her.

He cupped his hand up to the back of her head, fingers pressing into the curve of her neck. Breathing in hard through his nose.

She allowed him to pull her under him, pulling up on her waist. His kiss intoxicated her, chirping out little moans into his mouth. Tangling up into him, pulling and pushing. Need tying tight, his tongue and teeth slowly driving her into a maddening haze.

"Fuck, you're a good kisser." She gasped when he pulled away to give her breath.

"Only with you." He laughed. "Gods, Rosa. I want to devour you."

"I can tell." She sighed, looking up at him with glazed eyes.

"You look like an angel with those lights above you." He sighed, cupping her face.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle smile when he huffed at her.

"Do you want to be on top?" She tilted her head at him.

"No." He smiled, eyelids lowering again. "I want you to fuck me into the mattress."

Her cunt clenched hard, mouth opening into a wanton part.

"Chianthor." He rumbled. The command to start the scenario again.

She flipped him onto his back, pushing his thighs up and pinning them under her knees. Grinding her faux cock into his.

His head fell back, huffing out a breath. Hips trying to grind up into hers.

"You look so good under me." She smiled, pushing a hand flat to his lower belly to force his hips down. "Boys should be on their backs, don't you think?"

He whimpered, eyes closing as she pushed hard into him.

"Oh, not talking anymore?" She pinched his nipple, rolling the bud in her fingers. "That's a shame. You usually have so much to say!"

"How will I know if you want to be my good little whore?"

His eyes flew open, precum spilling onto his belly. Face flushing in astonished desire.

"Ohhh, you really liked that." She smiled dangerously. "You want to be my dirty little slut, don't you?"

"Yes, dear gods, yes." He panted.

"You're going to take my cock, aren't you? Take all of it into your greedy cunt?"

"Yes, please-" He whimpered. "I want it so bad, saer."

"On your belly. Now." She growled.

He twisted under her, pushing his hips up into her. She sighed, snapping her hands down on the globes of his ass. Aligning behind him. Mage hand bringing her a bottle of oil that she lathered copiously onto the length and up his hole.

"You're going to fuck yourself on my cock." She planted a flat palm on his lower back. Gently leading his hips back. Pulling up on his throat to rise him against her chest. "Watch."

He twisted his face over his shoulder, slowly pushing her cock into him. Head falling forward in a tremor as it disappeared down into him.

"Good, go slow as you need." She rubbed his hips in soothing kneads. "Breath, baby."

His breath started back up, shoulders stretching out as he fell back forward on hands, pushing back. Seating himself to the base of her belly.

"That's all of it." She marveled. "Wow."

She saw the edge of a smile on his face. Bracing her legs into a wide stance.

"Begin." She commanded.

He began rocking back into her, tentatively at first. His ass slowly pushing to her hips.

"It's so sexy, watching you break yourself in." She smiled, grabbing his ass as he pushed back. "But you've done this before, haven't you?"

He nodded, letting out a whine. Hips starting to thrust back into her in earnest.

"Of course you have." She purred, gripping his hips as he picked up speed. "Only a good whore knows how to fuck into a cock like that."

She pulled up on his hair, hissing into his ear.

"Like a bitch in heat."

The lights sputtered out above her as he buckled forward onto his chest, ass still raised. Gasping loudly.

She smiled, reaching under him. "Did you cum?"

Her hand found him still hard, cock only slick with precum.

"No?" She hummed.

"Oh, I see..." She laughed. Driving her hips into him in one rolling thrust.

He moaned out, hands bracing next to his head.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" She rolled into him again.

He could only whimper, hips starting to fall down into the mattress as she thrusted into him in increasingly hard pulses. A chorus of choppy moans leaving him in time with each stroke.

She rose over him, locking her arms out under his shoulders. Snapping her hips down into him at a high angle.

His moans came out choked, head starting to loll.

"Thaaat's it." She drew her words in a long, satisfied hum, hips snapping faster. "I found it, didn't I?"

His hands gripped hard into the sheets, a deep shuddering starting to spread from his pelvis.

"Yes, yes," She breathed, bracing down on her hands. Driving hard into fast, rough pulses. "I feel that shake. You're going to cum hard for me, aren't you, baby?"

He nodded, face pulled into a tight grimace. Hands pulling desperately on her wrists. Bracing into himself.

"Come on, give it to me." She urged. "Make a mess, baby. I got you."

He cried out, pushing his shoulders up into a curl. Hips stuttering in choppy pulses.

She reached under him and pulled tight strokes on his cock, hips still driving into him. Pulling his orgasm to its highest crest by force.

He choked out pleading whimpers, hands scrambling above him. Hips rising up as cum drove out of him in hard strikes. Pressing his chest flat into the mattress. Crying out her name in half formed calls.

She marveled at the pool of cum under him as she slowed. Pulling the soiled sheet away and lowering his hips gently down to rest, kneading into them. Making to pull out of him.

His hand rose and pulled behind her thigh again, a silent request.

"Okay." She smiled, staying inside him. Leaning down to fold her arms on his back. Turning her head in the curve.

He reached back again, seeking her hands and twining them into his next to his head. Breath still utterly lost, gasping hard and shallow.

"Breath deep." She urged warmly. "Big full pulls."

She began her own deep breaths again, his picking up her rhythm. Chests rising and lowering in tandem.

She pulled the hair from his face, kissing his shoulder. Sliding her palms under his body to cup his chest.

Murmuring out against his back.

"Don't blame yourself for things you can't control. You are a great man, and I love you so dearly. I know it's hard to be kind to yourself, but please try not to treat someone I love so harshly, okay? It hurts my heart."

He buried his face in the pillow, turning his face from her.

"Hey," She hushed, rising from his back to slide under him. "Don't hide from me. Come here."

She pulled him to her, wrapping her arms and legs around him. His face smothering into her shoulder. Gripping to her, tears slipping down the back of her neck.

"That's it, let go." She whispered. Carding her fingers through his hair. "I'm right here. I'm here as long as you need."

"Thank you." He choked.

Taking a moment to ride the hitch of his breath, he whispered.

"Can you sing for me?"

"Of course." She smiled. Taking a breath in to call a sweet song that she had heard in a passing tavern out against his hair. Scratching soft lines into his scalp.

He relaxed into her, breath evening out slowly. Letting her sing him to sleep.

"The sweetest of all my visions

Paling to all the other dreams that I was given

I carried a bounty from the apple trees

To your caroling laughter in the kitchen"

~

[yujo-nishimura]

Shambles (Working title)

Took a creative break from my master thesis and had an idea about a devil fruit eater who could communicate with the dead. I also loved the Dressrosa Arc, let´s face it - Doffy and Law are hot and actually I have no idea where writing this will get me to - so this is a journey for all of us. ;)

Warnings: none at this point ;)

Note: English is not my native language, mistakes can occur

You had realized that you had become very valuable for a lot of people after eating the Talk-Talk-Fruit. This devil fruit made it possible for you to communicate with the dead, the deceased people who lived on as memories in other people's minds. The revelation of this power occurred during an encounter with your friend in the small village where you grew up. While playing a game of tag, you finally tagged your friend, and in that moment, both of your minds were flooded with memories of his deceased mother. Overwhelmed by emotions, you paused, witnessing your friend's tears as he desperately questioned why you had subjected him to such a sad memory.

Mastering this extraordinary skill took several years, beginning with the discovery of the fruit in the nearby forest, followed by its collection and consumption. The fruit's unpleasant taste compelled you to spit out half of it, marking the day where your arduous journey would start.

Now you were sailing the seas, you had left your home village where half of the population did not understand your talent and called you an evil witch or a sorcerer. 

You felt like you never fit in anywhere and you set out on your small boat to explore the Grand Line. In order to find not only people who could make use of your power and accept you as you are, but also the possibility of finding genuine friendship.

You had been sailing for several days as you arrived on an island with a beautiful town filled with citizens living together in harmony with toys who were able to speak and walk around. 

You had seen many things in your life  - such as speaking animals or the sad and sometimes comforting memories of the dead, however the sight of walking and speaking toys in this town amazed you. 

The country you had arrived at was called Dressrosa and their king, Donquixote Doflamingo was known as a war lord and savior of this country. 

Though you were too young to personally witness the event, historical accounts and books informed you that the previous king of Dressrosa had descended into madness one fateful day, mercilessly slaughtering his own citizens. It was during this crisis that the pirate Doflamingo and his family appeared, rescuing the town and embodying a sense of righteousness. This event instilled in you the belief that pirates, despite their reputation, could be inherently noble, protecting the vulnerable when necessary. 

If you just could make friends, maybe you could also have a crew and call yourself a pirate… You were deep in thoughts as you walked through the city, taking in the new scenery around you while contemplating your next steps. As you were not aware of your surroundings you accidently bumped into a young guy, he was standing in the middle of the street, holding a sword, his face half covered by a white hat. 

As you accidently touched him, pictures of a tall blonde man with a black feather coat flashed in front of your eyes. You saw this man lying in the snow, coughing blood. You immediately knew this man was not alive anymore. 

The man you unintentionally collided with spun around, his expression a mix of astonishment and anger. Despite his initial shock, he emitted an air of confidence and composure. His intense blue eyes peered out from beneath his hat, framed by his disheveled black hair.

Finally finding his voice, he mustered the question, "Who are you?" 

You recognized the emotions playing across his face—the sheer disbelief and wonder of a memory, encountering someone dear to him, someone who had already departed from this world - you knew this reaction so well by now. 

"I apologize," you responded, striving to maintain a sense of calm and composure. "My name is Y/n, and I believe my devil fruit powers accidentally stirred up an unpleasant memory within you."

He cast his gaze downward, concealing his eyes from your view. "It's alright," he uttered, his voice tinged with a note of caution. "Be careful in this town. Things are not as they seem to be." With those words, he turned around once more, gradually walking away. His movements betrayed signs of injury, but you hesitated to address it, not daring to provoke those icy eyes that had, for now, granted you forgiveness.

Shaking off the unpleasant vibes that lingered, you resolved to press on with your journey. You had made up your mind to meet the king and see if he had any use for your power. Being hailed as the savior of the country, he seemed like the appropriate individual to approach an outcast such as yourself.

[dino--draws]

para!Place and para!Ilse Relationship Headcanons — because I am mentally ill. Also I slipped in a little short written character exchange too

Tbh I think para!Place got manhandled as hell when brought to Site-43. That man was in complete shambles, frightened and sobbing his little heart out. No one is listening to what he’s saying, he can barely hear them over the ringing in his ears. They can’t wrangle him down to get the eyedrops in and end up having to sedate him to avoid 001-A killing the man. This is a horrendous first impression 

Fun fact?? Ilse was only a Year out of the incinerator when the Paradox hits?? She’s not doing too hot.

So they see this frightened, alone man and Majorly see themselves in him. She’s projecting when they first start trying to reach out and connect with him. And he vaguely knows of her from parascientific journals and such, which is better than knowing Nothing (see: not knowing a damn soul in 43)

para!Place is touch adverse as all hell due to the previous shit and para!Ilse is a very touchy-feely person due to being touch starved and this does clash a little initially

They keep trying to physically comfort him or just in general put a hand on him and it makes him flinch a handful of times. He’s bad at communicating discomfort but they pick up eventually and start asking permission 

Place takes a while to warm up to Ilse, but they both end up mutually latching onto the other. He tends to tail her like a lost dog because Ilse knows the site better at first

Him getting injured by 001-A and Ilse helping in his recovery majorly grows his trust in them back when they were still warming up

They are both so mid socially. Ilse stands too close to people and talks a bit too loud, Place will stare at you with wide eyes in dead silence

After a while Ilse ends up as like the only person on site that Place lets touch him, because he knows they’d never hurt him. :))))

You will often find them passed out in one of the labs curled up against each other.

They could have some sort of queer platonic relationship going on. Its moderately co-dependent and theyre not sure what to define it as but they act close. Its just all platonic

Place tells Ilse about all the stuff pop culturally and more mundane that they missed while in the Incinerator. Oh and books. TV shows. Movies. Media themes and modern tropes. They are usually very baffled or confused but the two of them loooove to yap its enriching for em.

They have moderately incomprehensible parascience discussions. They do not always Agree parascientifically and sometimes butt heads, but they respect the others opinions

AND THEN EVERYTHING GOES TO SHIT WHEN NGO DIES AND PHMD STARTS ISOLATING HIMSELF AND BREAKING UNDER THE PRESSURE ✨✨✨

He shuts out everything and everyone, gets some asinine shit thats been boiling under the surface in his mind this whole time and starts to crumble mentally.

It worries the Fuck outta Ilse, because they notice when he starts to deteriorate both physically and mentally but still can barely pry anything from him. They’re the one that prompts the “better story” line from him. 

They get Really strained 

When he abandons the timeline, when she realizes what he’s done and what he’s going to do, they are god damn furious.

Stealing this from Kiku, but Ilse basically jailbreaks her TAD jumpwatch and manages to jury rig it to follow him after some time passes. Taking the Cannon fucked everyone over, and they want fucking answers to what he’s doing.

She’s not going to like those answers.

Other tangential headcanons for these two

para!Place occasionally goes nonverbal. Sometimes stress related, sometimes he just Doesn’t feel like it. He’s gesture heavy or can use a text to speech to bridge gaps from time to time.

para!Ilse loves to draw. They’re mid at it at best and the drawings come out looking more like scientific diagrams, but they love to draw things that she sees in a little book. She looks back on the doodles she did of the outside world before the paradox with solemn nostalgia.

phmd has a damaged little rubiks cube but he struggles with it because half the colors are hard to see now with the red monochromacy 

Here actually have a little drabble because I am insane fun fact:

“How can you even solve that thing, with the monochromacy?” Ilse’s voice cuts through a silence that had previously only been broken by a quiet clicking. Placeholder jolts, and looks over at her. He’s sat on the lab’s floor, back against the wall, Rubik’s cube in his lap.

“Ah— well,” he rubs the bandages on his arm, winces, “truth be told, I can’t. The only colors that are still differential are these two—“ Place taps a darker square, and a pale one, “—blue and white, I think? I don’t remember well what they looked like.” The eyedrops make his vision blurry, anyhow. He can scarcely see, between them and the Paradox’s sensory effects. 

“So what’s the point?” There’s a shifting of fabric as Ilse plops down heavily next to him, adjusting her glasses on her nose. They’d long since popped out the lenses, but kept the frames for ‘nostalgia’. 

Place shrugs, “I like the sounds. I… I need to do something with my hands, HEAR something, or I fear I’ll go batty down here.”

“I can’t stand the silence either,” Ilse nods, she traces a circle on the tile with her finger, “the Incinerator was dead silent for all seventy-eight of those years, if I have to stand another second I may snap.” They give a harsh, bitter sort of laugh. Placeholder frowns,

“I… I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. If this shitfest is anyones fault, it’s Dougall’s, not yours — no matter what he tried to imply.” Ilse would almost rather this hell over their previous, if not for the fact this one affected more than just one person.

“…at least the Cannon works.” Placeholder sighs, “its given the others hope.”

“You say that as if it didn’t give you any,” Ilse arches her brow, “did you ever ask future you anything about what his situation was?”

Placeholder looks away. 

“Place?”

“I don’t remember. Our conversation fades more by the day. But I think he sounded… tired.”

“If YOU’RE saying someone sounded tired, it must’ve been bad.” Ilse frowns, they tentatively reach over to him — a silent ask of permission — and he nods. Ilse gently grasps his shoulder, tugs him closer and Place leans up against her, knees curling up to his chest. 

“And speaking of, you should rest, Place.“

He exhales softly, eyes drifting downwards.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

[keefessketchbook]

WISDOM SAGA THOUGHTS 🎉🎉🎉🎉

Guys, this saga had me in shambles. I had to wait til the morning of the 30th to listen so listening to it before breakfast WRECKED me.

Legendary 🐕

The instrumentals go so hard like it's so chill

In the first verse, Telemachus reminds me so much of Polites. like bring the world so light? open arms who?

the pre chorus has some of my favorite lyrics jay has ever written. like 'Cause I'm stuck with your stories/But no clue who you are/And no idea if you're dead or just too far/Somebody tell me, come and give me a sign/If I fight those monsters, is it you I'll find?

ALSO THIS SONG HAVING THE MELODY FROM FULL SPEED AHEAD THE "polites gear up, you and i'll go ahead" PART

the chorus i love because it references all the monsters Ody has had to fight

The second verse is so like real. like Telemachus is just singing his heart out about his problems

The suitors sound so much like the sailors, which hurts my heart. like these are the voices of the men that were friends with ody. now they are tryin to get his wife

Telemachus' last line is sending me like "If I fight this monster/Is it you I'll find?" like bro you find his old bestie, badass senorita

Little wolf 🐺

So this song sounds really good musically. I can see the evil sutiors from the "dark" and "evil" sounds jay uses

The chorus/ what the suitors are chanting is really cool

Athena coming to his rescue has my whole heart like its so cute

Telemachus is just a little baby like he's my little boy

love Love LOVE how athena turned the suitors chant into her own like she's in his corner rooting for him

Also Teagan's riff is so prettyyyyy

We'll be fine 👍

This is my favorite song in this saga. I just wish it was longerrr

Like Athena literally describing Ody and comparing him to Telemachus is just so sweet

Also the lyrics call back to my goodbye because ody said "What's a title that a goddess could lend/ If I'll never sleep at night?" and in this song Athena says "Maybe, if I helped you reach your goal/Life could be that bright/I could sleep at night"

Telemachus is just so gentle with Athena, I think that is what she needs because i guess she thought Telemachus would hate her because of what she did to his dad but Telemachus just has so much Polites energy like bro is precious

THIS LINE SPECIFICALLY "I don't think he'll mind/If not his friend, then mine" 😭😭😭😭😭

Both of their voices blend so well together like its so cute

"You're a good kid" AHHHHHHHHHH

Love in Paradise 🏝

Athena calling him old friend has my heart

The callbacks to the other songs is just amazing. they blend so well together, i kinda want to make it my ringtone

Calypso's beat is so good like its so beachy and calm

the "did you know you talk in your sleep?" line reminds me of the scene from PJO from the 4th book when Percy wakes up on Calypso's island

the silence after "she's my wife" is soooo funny to me

Calypso's verse is so good like the notes and beat are so pretty

the goddess can't die line beat is soo good like her laugh is so pretty

THE TIME JUMP !!!!!!

Ody calling back to the underworld lyrics is amazing to me

THE STAY IN MY OPEN ARMS LINE HAS ME DEAD LIKE DON'T DISRESPECT MY POLITES POOKIE

I literally was thinking last night, 'if i hear polites in the wisdom saga, i will be losing my shit' can confirm, have lost my shit

Polites, Eury, and Ody's mom's voices all blend together so well like OMG it hurts

and Ody calling out for Athena is so cute like for once he's admitting he needs help

So, this saga is officially my favorite. I'll post god games soon. That one has a lot more to unpack. I love this community sm. Kinda sad that we didn't get to hear any Penelope tho.

Stay weird, guys

[le-92vi]

Into each life, some rain must fall.

Geto Suguru x Reader

Genres/Warnings: angst, the reader is in the same grade as GJ, GT & SK, and was injured very badly on a mission, slight(?) hints of depression and anxeity, after the village arc, reader is (kinda) introduced to Mimiko and Nanako, not proofread

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: this is just a very random idea that popped up in my head and, i wrote it in a haze. hopefully, you enjoy it<3

(P.S. english is not my first language and this is also my first fic ever, so i apologize for any mistakes beforehand!)

____ Two days.

That’s all it took to turn your world into a shamble. Two days were all it took to turn your life into a complete mess.

The whole Jujutsu community had been shaken to shambles in the past two days. Everyone was stunned, unable to fathom how such an incident could've occurred. That too, at the hands of one of their own. The higher-ups were left dumbfounded like anyone else but still chose to feign indifference.

It hit you like a ginormous wave, demolishing everyone and everything in its path—a wave you could only hope to have been a nightmare.

But it wasn't.

Shoko sat beside your bed, holding your hand with both of hers. You realized something was wrong the moment you saw her face. The cool-and-stoic Shoko looked upset for the very first time. You knew she was preparing what to say to you, choosing the best possible words to break the news.

"What's wrong?" You breathed before she could even say anything. Shoko sighed, her eyes falling back on your injury-laden body.

"Tell me, Shoko. I can see it all over your face." You tried sitting up straighter to see her face better, but the gash running through the majority of your torso set your whole body on fire with every little movement. To no avail, you were forced to lay on your side, limp and ailing.

"Don't move!" Shoko's eyes widened as she jolted to your aid. She helped you adjust yourself. She fell back into her chair as you grunted in pain, getting used to the shift in your posture. You could see her hands clenched in tight fists, her nails cutting crescents through the palm of her hand.

"It's…Suguru," she began. "The mission Suguru was sent on recently—they're saying he has massacred the whole village. He summoned his curses and massacred a hundred people. He's been sentenced to death by the higher-ups, but they can't find him anywhere…"

Shoko's words began losing meaning. She was still telling you about what happened, but her words seemed to blur together; you couldn't understand anything anymore.

Suguru wouldn't do such a thing, right? He would never hurt a soul.

Shoko must've noticed the distress settling on your face. Her hand rested gently on your shoulder, drawing you out of your thoughts. "I think if we are able to talk to him, things might clear up. We still don't know for sure what happened in that village."

You remembered how just two days ago he sat in Shoko's seat. Late at night, he quietly popped up at your door with a copy of your favorite book. You sleepily listened to him go on about his very "mundane" day and then read you to sleep. He must've left shortly after you fell asleep, for you woke with only a tiny note stuck to the book he left behind for you: "I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."

That's when it dawned on you that Suguru had, knowingly or unknowingly, let you in on his plans before he went A.W.O.L. To you, what felt like a silly little, maybe even a little exaggerated, story of his recent missions was actually what his whole world was like in the past few months.

He was miserable. All alone.

And none of you could see it.

Nothing in the world seemed to matter anymore. You felt bile burning up in your throat. The weight sat heavy on your chest as you doubled over, gasping for more air. You had to see him. You needed to meet him.

"Have they been looking for him?" You manage to croak out.

Shoko stroked your back, trying to ease up whatever pain you felt, however little she could. "Gojo's been trying to find him before the higher-ups' do." Her voice was shallower and heavier, as if she was barely able to keep her emotions in check.

Everyone had already made up their minds about Suguru. They weren't looking for their student anymore. They didn't care about a kid they'd let astray. They never had. Suguru would only be made one of the two things if they found him; a criminal or a scrapegoat.

Much later at night, when everything was quieter, you snuck out of your room. Your wound barely hurt anymore since you found out about Suguru. Surely it wasn't anything that could compare to what he was going through, right?

Quietly, you slung your bag over your shoulders and made your way out of the institute. You couldn't leave even a slight chance of someone following you to Suguru, though you weren't sure he'd want to see you either. But you at least had to try.

Behind the Tokyo Institute of Jujutsu Tech, a tiny shack stood abandoned at the foot of the mountain. A local legend-- often the topic of many conversations among people, but it was never actually discovered until you and Suguru stumbled upon it by accident during a regular inspection. The seclusion of the shack made for a perfect, peaceful hideout. For the two of you, it was the perfect getaway. If he wanted you to find him, he'd be there.

And you were right. The lights in the shack were visible now that you were up close. You stood at the end of the makeshift entryway of the shack, trying to gather up the courage to finally face him. Your hands were clammy, no matter how much you wiped them against your side. You breathed in for a final time before knocking on the door.

It opened almost immediately, as if it were waiting for your arrival.

Suguru stood at the door. Disheveled and anticipating. He had been waiting for you. He grabbed your hand to pull you in and locked the door behind him. His breathing had obviously hitched as he whispered your name, almost as if he were reminiscing about the taste of your name. "I thought you'd... I wanted to see you one last time. I didn't know if you'd actually come."

His fingers laced with yours as the two of you stood stuck to the floor, unmoving. Both of you felt this insane amount of uncertainty. Sure, you had held hands with Suguru before, but it was always platonic. It was different—the way he held your hand this time. It was almost as if he wasn't sure of what to do next.

Was this how it went? Were you still his friend?

"Suguru," you began. "It's not true—what they're saying—is it? They're just trying to frame you for it. Right?" Your brows furrowed together as you looked at him, waiting for him to deny everything. For him to tell you that he was being wronged. That he was being framed.

But Suguru stood speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His grip on your hand loosened as his head dropped.

You felt confused and betrayed by his silence. It surged through you like a pain you had never felt before—your wound seemed like a mere scratch in comparison. But you couldn't let it show on your face. Not until you hear his explanation. "Suguru." You reached for his hand this time, holding it with a firmer grip. "Can you at least tell me what happened?"

And just like that, something visibly shifted in him. It was like a newfound trust that perhaps you wouldn't condemn him that much. Maybe—just maybe—you would understand why he did what he did. That you would comprehend his actions and why he did them. Suguru bent over, your body barely holding his as his knees gave out.

"I am just so tired of this life," he sobbed. His shoulder shuddered under your touch. "I'm so sick of living like this."

You braced his shoulders, trying to console him. "It's not too late yet, Suguru." You weren't thinking straight. You didn't even completely know what you were talking about. It only mattered that Suguru was breaking down in front of your eyes, and you couldn't do anything to hold him together.

"It's not too late to return yet." You pulled away slightly to finally look at his face. "Hmm?"

Suguru shook his head in disagreement. "I can't go back. Not after I... I did it. It is all true what they're saying. I'm a monster."

You felt the air knock out of your lungs at his confession. Now that you heard it from him, the realization finally sank in. Suguru had massacred hundreds of people.

There was no going back.

"Oh, Suguru," You choked on your words, not that you had any left. "What have you? No! I'm sure we can find a way. Gojo can. Right? He's the strongest." Your face twisted in fear and something else you couldn't quite pin.

Suguru called your name, pulling you out of your thought train. He was much calmer now, as if he knew nothing more could be done. The realization had set in for him too. "I can't go back anymore."

He stood up, pulling you along with him, and guided you carefully to the back of the shack. He lifted the room divider open just a little to reveal a glimpse of two little girls curled up against each other on the dusty couch. "I won't. Those people were monsters, no less than me."

You let out a gasp at the scene before you as he drew the curtain close again. "They're just kids. Like we were. Like they once were. So why did they have to live like that? What fault did they have?" He was barely keeping his voice even.

Your mind was sending you into a spiral. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. You swiftly made your way towards the front of the shack, where your bag lay, abandoned. Suguru followed after you, calling your name. Prying open the zipper, you pulled out some canned food, grabbing them in his hands.

"What are you doing?" He called after you, worry lacing his tone as he watched you pick up your empty bag, ready to leave.

"I need some time... to think, Suguru." You tried to keep your voice as unreadable as possible. How would he feel if you sounded terrified, repulsed, or anything at all? "I'll come by- I... Would I be able to see you again?" You stopped to look at him one last time, hoping he'd stop you. Hoping he'd ask you to stay just a little while longer.

He was hesitant. "I'm not sure." He looked as if he were stopping himself from holding onto you too. He'd be too selfish if he did that, right?

"Take care, Suguru." You whispered, choking back your tears and putting on your straightest face. Suguru only watched as you left, unmoving and unspoken. You'd just be a threat to him if you stayed, right?

No matter how close you were to him, he was still a criminal.

And you, a sorcerer.

[airrec]

will you ever make janitor ai or character ai bots out of any of the characters from your fanfics? if not.. can people make them? (please i’m dying to make a Dream Blob au bot i’m on my hands and knees begging here)

In short: no. Please, please, please do not.

In long: please do not feed my fics or posts to A.I. To do so would be actively against my wishes, and even the thought of it is upsetting and angering to me.

A.I. has a lot of potential to do good – in the medical field, in the sciences, etc. There is nuance to the subject of A.I. in general. Regarding specifically A.I. art, the technology is not yet advanced enough to be used as a tool in the way that a tool is meant to be used – it is not a brush you can download, or a digital model you can pose. It is “trained” through being fed lots and lots of real, human-created pieces of art, and copying that art.

It does not learn how to use specific brush strokes, or specific colours, or how or why certain details are included or left out. It is wholesale lifting from what it is fed and mashing it together into new configurations, Frankenstein style – there is nothing creative about it. Similarly, when fed fictional writing, it does the same: it copies and pastes common tropes, common story beats, common plots, common phrasings – there is nothing of creativity in there at all.

There are currently no legal protections for artists of any kind against A.I. algorithms; the technology is still too new, and already it is causing harm. Even just on the practical side, the environmental impacts of the excessive electricity usage needed to run the A.I. is immense.

A.I. generated art is theft, pure and simple. It cannot be currently described as anything other than that. And creative writing is a form of art. A book that you pick up in an airport, or a fanfic you open in a tab on your phone, or a well-thumbed novel you found on a shelf in a café – these are pieces of art. Perhaps you do not think of them that way, in the same way you might look at a painting and say, “Yes, that is a piece of art,” but they are.

I was talking to a friend of mine some time ago, and they said (and I agreed) that writing is often devalued as a form of art, because the idea that “anyone can write a book” is so pervasive. And, yes, anyone can write a book – or anyone can write letters onto a page in a specific order. In much the same way, anyone can draw a picture, or paint a mural. It doesn’t mean that there isn’t a creative process involved, and it doesn’t mean that there isn’t the development of skills and immense amounts of knowledge and experience going into story-crafting as much as there is visual arts. Quite frankly, anyone who says, “Oh, anyone can write a book,” has almost certainly never actually tried to write a book themselves.

My friend went on to say that very often books are considered objects, just things, not pieces of art that have been handcrafted just for you, just for someone to pick up and immerse themselves in and enjoy. In much the same way, fanfic has also become a commodity – perhaps even more so, because its content is based on a pre-existing canon that does not belong to the writer. But fanfiction is still art, in much the same way that fanart is still art, and the devaluation of it and its creators is upsetting and frustrating.

I am not a machine. I do not press some buttons, pull some levers, and start outputting fanfic. This is something I do for fun, because I enjoy it. It is something I post online because I want other people to come enjoy it, too, and for it to be an expression of art meant as a part of a fan community’s expression of love for a canon. That is what being a fan is all about.

I am a real human being, and I don’t deserve to have my art stolen from me, fed to a shambling corpse spouting out things it has “learnt” from both my art and from every other piece of art that has been stolen to feed it. Anything it would say – that would not be my story, because it doesn’t come from me. It would just be an amalgamation of thousands of people’s stories, cut down into something mainstream and palatable because the point of so-called A.I. art is not to create unique and interesting stories – it is to create generic ones that will sell easily under the model of late stage capitalism.

You know, I got the email notification for this ask last night. I have my email notifs on because I spent so long being shadow-banned on this blog, and I fear missing things in my inbox. I checked my phone in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep, and while I was reading the ask I could hear my mother breathing in her sleep just nearby – we’re in a caravan together, because it’s been a while since I went away with my parents. I am typing this answer up from that same caravan, and I’m squinting a little because the sun is reflecting off my screen. We’re going to have a barbecue later for dinner – we just bought the food for it not three hours ago. Did you think of that? Did you think about the way that I am a person, living my own life, and now I am being forced to beg for you to respect me as one?

Because that’s what you would be doing, if you did this: you would commodify me, and you would commodify my art. It would be just another machine-made thing, not something that’s handmade for others’ enjoyment; not something that work – my time, my energy – has gone into, that my passion and love has gone into. But I am not a thing, and I resent being implicitly treated like one.

If you really want to know more about people’s fanfics – talk to them! Leave a comment, send in an ask, engage with them in some way. Fanfic is created by fans for the enjoyment of other fans, and fan communities are still communities, which means there is a social element to them. Stealing from others, as one might expect, is frowned upon greatly – they gave that to you, for free. You pay nothing for it – and shouldn’t – and now you want to plagiarise and thieve what was shown in good faith?

I suppose that, ultimately, if you were truly determined, there is nothing that I can do to stop you. You could copy/paste my works into your A.I. bot creator and go on your merry way, despite how I’ve told you that such would make me extremely upset, and that it isn’t something I want. I can say, “I forbid you to do this,” - and make no mistake I do forbid you – and ultimately I have no power to actually stop you, because there is no law in place to prevent you from doing exactly as you please.

I can do nothing to stop you except this: I am asking you not to. Please.

[gold-rhine]

For the ask game :tell me why you love nuevi or kaeya! Feel free to talk A Lot I like your long posts

i also love reading my long posts, i wish i wrote them more asdfghjk its hard for me to just talk unspecifically about character without like pointed theme bc to me it feels like everything is obvious and everyone understands same things, why am i spelling it out.

anyway, KAEYA. my prettiest cursed princess. noble daughter of the fallen aristocratic family with generational curse coded. jon snow AND daenerys targaryen vibes at the same time. why noble daughter? bc instead of how heirs of nobles are kept close and taught to rule, his family treats him like pawn, like currency, his fate determined at his birth with no agency, sent away to another family he has to fit in. he's not a bastard, but he is half blood, and he cannot return. he's brother to diluc, but not equal, no matter how much they get along, like jon to robb stark. dawn winery is not his home, he's only welcomed conditionally, when diluc allows it. told to be "last hope", but what he's last hope of is a rotting cursed shambles of hubris. but even with how badly he was treated, he's still torn with loyalty to them, with duty, he still tried to ran away to khaenriah as a kid, just like dany wants to go to westeros. terrible prophecy hangs over him and he knows it. we don't even know if alberichs were really regents or if clothar is just delusional and sees himself forming abyss order as "regency"! he wants to walk off the stage, but he can't. and even if he could, he won't, not in the end, because against his will he still cares about people left on that stage who do not know what they are in

and he's coping with all of that by not letting people close even though he's lonely bc that curse and prophecies hang over him, bc he learnt from diluc he will not be accepted unconditionally no matter how loyal he is, no matter how good of a friend and brother he is, no matter how much punishments he takes for diluc and how he follows him like a shadow. he tried so hard to be a perfect child in dawn winery, polite and sweet and it didn't matter in the end. and now he's hating himself for secrecy and underhanded ways he was forced into as a child and deeming himself bad, finding ways to blame himself even for doing good deeds bc he's such a manipulator, treating relationships as transactions of favors to keep score, to keep in control.

mask worn for long, it grew into him and is impossible to take off now. "and they say my charm is fake" he IS naturally charming, he just had to learn to use it as a weapon. he IS sweet and interested in people, he just had to learn to get profit out of it. the worst thing he could be is himself. sad adult with a fake smile. and at the same time he's proud, he's talented, he's funny and sarcastic, he likes goofy jokes and slipping clever metaphors into silly stories, he likes writing books for people he cares about with advises on how to solve problems and deal with people, and also likes telling stories and can improvise a monologue on a stage. he should have been an actor and a writer, but duty to one father threw him into mond and duty to the other locked him into knights, so now he's just miserable, he's a hedonist, a cynic, he can't have real connections, so he will take pleasure and attention and use it for his greater means, he's coping with substance abuse, but he is so paranoid he will not be caught actually drunk bc that's weakness. he wants to belong so much, but think he's not allowed to. traveler finding him in the shadows after he tries to leave community event HE organized and dragging his reluctant ass by hand is THE theme for them tbh.

[mrfeenysmustache]

The Moon Turns the Tide

Chapter 3

Based on @crescent-dreams SessKag fest day 3prompt: Mountain

Summary: After a stroke of bad fortune, Kagome’s life is uprooted.

She is moved into an unfamiliar community where she expects life will be very different- and much more miserable- than she’d hoped. But luck, she’s learned, can turn on a dime.

Also read on: AO3

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One day, while hiding from the chores her mother liked to make her do to keep her “grounded and humble,” Kagome found herself in her father’s personal office.

In there, he kept his account books for the estate, things he’d picked up on his travels, old, antique maps, and an assortment of books on interests too niche to keep in the main library that anyone could access.

She was not often allowed in his office, and never when he wasn’t already in there himself, as there were far too many priceless and important things to risk to a child’s clumsiness, but since she was often a very well behaved girl, she knew this was the last place they would look.

So slowly and quietly, she’d crept up to the large wooden desk on the far wall and climbed up up up into the tall, leather chair.

In the middle of the desk sat a stack of new books. New books always started in her father’s office. He read them first and then decided where they needed to go.

It looked like finally, for once, she would get to see them first.

She pulled the first one off the top and looked at the gold, embossed lettering scrolled across the deep, leather cover.

Mountain Climbing Adventures

Tilting her head in curiosity, she opened it somewhere in the middle, flipping quickly passed several pages of endless words until she found an illustration.

A man, hanging off the side of a mountain by a rope tied around his waist.

“Oh my…” she whispered to herself, turning back to the beginning to read from page one.

The idea that anyone would want to climb something so big and tall and treacherous as a mountain amazed and terrified her. She lost herself in harrowing story after harrowing story, falling rocks, fraying ropes and wild animals and all the other misfortunes this man found himself in as he spent his time climbing up to places people probably didn’t have any business going.

And though she was riveted, Kagome decided that mountain climbing was best read about in books.

At least until now.

Her first ball had been a disaster.

City manners were so different from the ones that had gotten her through in the countryside, and she fielded many snide, judgmental looks as she fumbled her way through the night.

She didn’t eat right, sip right, stand right, wave her fan right and the dances they did were entirely unknown to her.

The second ball had not been better.

The third had been worse.

Now she sat in the carriage on her way to the fourth, wishing she could choose to climb to the tippy top of a high, storm cloaked mountain with a random husband on top if it meant she didn’t have to suffer through another stuffy, snobby ball.

But alas. This was all there was.

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“I’m not going to another one!” She shouted, ripping the feather out of her perfectly coiffed hair and tossing it on the floor. “I’m not going and none of you can make me! I’ll be a seamstress before I try and make these stuck up, pompous, snobbish, self important nobodies like me!”

She was being immature and she knew it. Her mother had done all she could to prepare her in such a short time but it had not been enough and now she was worse off than when she’d first arrived. Her reputation was in shambles as she was seen as a clumsy, bumbling country bumpkin trying to infiltrate their sparkling society, and she’d had enough of trying to play their games and gain any ground.

“Dearest, it wasn’t that bad!” Her mother tried to soothe, but in answer, Kagome ripped a fine, silk glove in her haste to take it off.

“AAAHHGHHH!! You see? I can’t do this! I can’t be one of them! And after spilling red wine all over the host tonight, they certainly won’t let me try anymore.”

“She said it was fine.”

“She was trying to be gracious, but anyone could see the contempt in her eyes. And besides, everyone laughed and gossiped the rest of the night. I don’t even get sympathy dances anymore!”

With a sigh, Kagome’s mother gently pushed her hands away from where they flailed behind her back to lace her dress.

As she helped her undress, she hummed softly under her breath.

Hearing her mother hum or sing had always had an instantly soothing effect on her tempers and nerves. And it worked even now, despite how disastrous the entire evening had been.

“Here’s some good news then,” she said, pushing Kagome’s dress to the floor to work on her undergarments. “We’ll be going in a few days to the mountains. Your aunt’s late husband has a distant relative out there.”

“The mountains?” She asked, and her mother hummed in confirmation.

“Yes, they have a nice cabin in a quiet community. Your aunt pays a visit a few times a year to check on her aging in-laws, and she’s bringing more etiquette books for you to study. So we’ll get out of this stuffy city, breathe some clean air, and come back better than we left. How does that sound?”

“Good,” Kagome said, mind distant as her thoughts began to turn. Etiquette books aside, being anywhere other than where she was sounded like heaven.

But her earlier thoughts about mountains returned, and an uneasy feeling settled into her soul.