#Why have I been so existential lately?

[roses-are-blue-1989]

Ya know, sometimes I can't help but wonder how much different my life would be if I hadn't become SpiderRose. Would I be chilling at home instead of ontop of a tower watching for another rogue baddie trying to start shit?

Or would I be far from the city and living my life with someone I married, or maybe my family?

Should I get off my high horse and go see the resident spider therapist?

(Probably.)

[floral-hex]

Hey, do you got doctors appointments you need to schedule but haven’t for whatever dumb reason (for me, laziness. probably. no no, complacency. That sounds better)? Well, go do it! Now! or soon! You need to just hurry up and schedule that shit! I’m sorry! Make the call! You gotta! You’re probably gonna have to wait multiple weeks for the appointment anyway, so if you wait until the problem is really bad, then you’re just condemning yourself to waiting extra long to get checked out. Jeez!

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[dreamlogic]

...

[fataldrum]

Dorian Gray is queer art, period.

Apparently Netflix has decided to make an adaption of The Picture of Dorian Gray with Dorian and Basil as siblings. Unless they're planning to go the gothic horror incest route, they've completely missed the point of the relationship between these characters.

If you haven't read the book, Basil is a painter who becomes infatuated with a beautiful young man, pouring his feelings into a painting. Dorian becomes jealous of the painting's beauty, realizing that he will never be as young and unspoiled as the version of himself on the canvas. He finds himself wishing that the painting could age instead of him. His wish is granted, allowing him to stay young and beautiful until the end, with his moral and spiritual decline reflected only in the painting.

I cannot overstate how queer this book is. Dorian is so beautiful that their first meeting inspires a wave of existential terror in Basil. Dorian changes Basil's entire understanding of art and beauty. This book is so queer it was used as evidence at Wilde's sodomy trial.

The existence of the portrait itself is tantamount to a confession of queer desire. Basil tells his friend, Lord Henry, that he can't exhibit the painting because "I have put too much of myself into it.”

Lord Henry (who will later lead Dorian into a life of vice) laughs, but Basil explains:

“[E]very portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. [...] It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself. The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul.”

This is how he describes meeting Dorian:

When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself. [...] I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then—but I don’t know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.”

Notice that turn of phrase--it was not conscience but cowardice that made him attempt to flee. Why would conscience factor into his decision? Because he felt shame at his reaction to Dorian's perfect, beautiful face.

Lord Henry is shocked to discover Basil cares for something besides his art.

“He is all my art to me now,” said the painter gravely. “I sometimes think, Harry, that there are only two eras of any importance in the world’s history. The first is the appearance of a new medium for art, and the second is the appearance of a new personality for art also. What the invention of oil-painting was to the Venetians, the face of Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, and the face of Dorian Gray will some day be to me.

Basil goes on to confess, "I see everything in him. He is never more present in my work than when no image of him is there."

Lord Henry still doesn't understand why there is too much of Basil in the painting, so Basil explains:

“Because, without intending it, I have put into it some expression of all this curious artistic idolatry, of which, of course, I have never cared to speak to him. He knows nothing about it. He shall never know anything about it. But the world might guess it, and I will not bare my soul to their shallow prying eyes. My heart shall never be put under their microscope. There is too much of myself in the thing, Harry—too much of myself!”

Lord Henry asks how Dorian feels about Basil, and his response is absolutely tragic.

The painter considered for a few moments. “He likes me,” he answered after a pause; “I know he likes me. Of course I flatter him dreadfully. I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said. As a rule, he is charming to me, and we sit in the studio and talk of a thousand things. Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughtless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain. Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to some one who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer’s day.”

Any adaptation that ignores the way Dorian's existence and beauty utterly destroyed Basil is doomed to be shallow and insipid. This is not just a book about a magic painting. It's a monument to queer longing.

[wheeboo]

tell me that you love me | joshua hong {part two}

SYNOPSIS. in which you and joshua are simply different in more ways than one, yet only seem to find a common ground in struggling to chase your dreams. so why does life keep throwing you two at each other, despite your different worlds, and why does it feel so terrifyingly right? PAIRING. musician!joshua hong x deaf-artist!reader (ft. cafe owner!jeonghan, musician!seokmin, best friend!seungkwan, best friend!wheein, producer!jihoon) GENRE. fluff, slice of life, kdrama romance-esque, mild angst, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn WARNINGS/TAGS. cursing, shua and reader has some self-doubt issues :(, someone makes insensitive comments about reader, mention of alcohol (beer), mention of cigarettes, everyone ships them, kissing, terms of endearment, Softie Domestic Joshua™, it conveniently rains when they're together, this is 85% fluff and 15% plot and the brainrot was giving me an existential crisis, honestly there's not much warnings it's just a love story <3 WORD COUNT (FOR PART TWO). 17k WORD COUNT (FOR FULL FIC). 37k

notes: for some reason even tho this whole part is almost as long as the first part it still feels rushed asf lmao. there are a bit of time skips between most sections, and prob a noticeable decline in quality the more u read HAHA. idk what else to say other than i hope you all enjoy and thank you for joining me on this journey <3 your feedback and reblogs mean the world to me !!

part one | part two

The taste of the salty breeze is sharp on your tongue. Sand raids onto your sandals and crawls playfully up to your ankles as you step foot on the expansive beach. 

“Ahh, it’s been a long time since we’ve gone to the beach!” Wheein exclaims proudly while running up to you and locking arms with yours, her hair tied back in two french braids, the carefree grin to her face infectious as ever. “No sad thoughts today. We’re here to have fun, ‘kay?”

She grabs you by the shoulders and eagerly shakes your body before you have the chance to respond. Wheein is right𑁋no sad thoughts today, it is. Seungkwan dashes up from behind as well, carrying with him two plastic bags full of drinks and snacks when the three of you stopped by the convenience store earlier. You carry a large blanket in your grasp as you all make your way to a spot a good distance away from the water. Ah, and you’ve brought your camera along too. 

It turns out that Wheein and Seungkwan had planned a surprise trip to the beach solely to celebrate your art being selected for the museum. But even though that didn’t happen, they still wanted to cheer you up and lift your spirits (meaning, they stood by your front door for nearly half an hour and constantly shone their phone flashlights to get your attention inside, practically dragging you out of bed. You still love them either way). 

The beach isn’t that busy at this time in the late afternoon during a weekday, so finding a quiet spot is easy. You lay out the blanket on a patch of smooth sand, making sure it's free of any debris. Seungkwan sets down the bags of snacks and drinks, and Wheein helps arrange everything neatly.

The water laps calmly up the coast, stretching for miles under the soft glow of the sun. As you settle yourself on the blanket, you catch sight of a trio of seagulls flying peacefully overhead while feeling the warmth of the sand below you and the cool breeze hitting your skin. 

It’s hard not to look at the picturesque scene right before your eyes. A sun, sunrise, or sunset on the beach is something you’ve painted many times before, but you probably wouldn’t tire of it. There’s a variety of colours that the sky contains𑁋from fiery oranges and bright blues to soft pinks and purples𑁋and many people would say it’s the easiest background to capture on a canvas. But you know better. 

Taking a hold of the camera around your neck, you adjust the lens and frame the seemingly endless skies right within the small viewfinder. The shutter clicks a few times as you capture the vibrant hues of the sunset slowly but surely beginning to take its course, freezing a moment of beauty in time. 

After taking a moment to review the photos, you bring the camera back up to your eye again and whip your head around with the intent of taking some candid shots. However, you certainly don’t expect to capture the face of Joshua mid-laugh. He's not looking at you, or the camera, but at Wheein and Seungkwan who seemed to have quickly dropped their belongings in order to greet him. There’s two other boys behind him too𑁋Jeonghan was one of them, the other one you weren’t able to put a name on, but the wide grin on his face was enough to tell you all that you needed to know. All of them are too far for you to be able to read what they’re talking about.

Happiness looks good on them, You think. 

Zooming out just slightly, a singular click is all you need to capture. It’s like everything that you need in a small, rectangular frame𑁋an encapsulation of pure joy. You lower the camera and take a few seconds to admire the candid show, the way the sun casts a golden glow on their faces, and the unguarded expressions of happiness that make the photo more than just perfect. 

Bringing your camera back around your neck, you stand up from the blanket and slowly approach the group. Joshua is the first to notice you come up, as he always is, and his face doesn’t shy away from seemingly brightening up. He’s wearing a plaid button down shirt with a few of its buttons undone, a seashell necklace around his neck, and a pair of black shorts. You also notice his guitar case slinging on his shoulder. 

You muster up a surprised look towards Wheein and Seungkwan about the guests you weren’t aware that were invited𑁋not that you’re complaining at all. 

Wheein waves a hand in front of your face, directing your attention towards her. 

“They’re here to sing!” she tells you, signing animatedly to you.

You lift a brow, letting your hands move in the air as if you’re conducting. “Sing?”

“I thought it would be a fun touch!” Wheein exclaims, then she steps closely right in front of you, seemingly lowering her voice and signing briskly so the others wouldn’t see, “I’m doing you a favour here.” 

“Y/N! This is Seokmin,” Seungkwan gestures to the boy who finally has a name standing right next to Joshua, spelling out the letters of Seokmin’s name with his hands.

Immediately, Seokmin switches whatever he was holding in his right hand𑁋a microphone stand?𑁋to his other hand before extending it out to you for a handshake in perhaps the most humourously, gentlemanly way possible. The goofy grin on his face is enough to make you giggle as you shake his hand firmly. 

“Nice to meet you,” You sign to him, and Seokmin’s eyes light up in awe at the way your hands move. He turns towards the others with a questionable look, and when they tell him what you signed, his grin widens even more. 

“It’s nice to meet you too!” Seokmin exclaims, the enthusiasm bouncing off him. Then he briefly glances between you and Joshua, wiggling his brows and adding, “I’ve been told a lot about you.” 

Glancing over at Joshua, you notice the way he brings his head down to his feet for a moment, but then he lifts himself back up and meets your gaze with a fond smile.

“Okay, you guys can go set your things up. Seungkwan and I will set up the snacks and drinks,” Wheein says. “I say we go in the water after the performance. Who’s in?” 

Right away, the remaining five of you come to a simultaneous agreement. Jeonghan, Seokmin, and Joshua begin to move towards a spot a little further down the beach where they can set up their equipment. Wheein and Seungkwan grab the bags with the food and drinks to set them up near the blanket, leaving you behind to soak in the sight of the beach once more. 

“Right here is good.” Joshua motions to a spot on the ground where Jeonghan sets up the speaker for the microphone. “Did you bring the extension cord?”

Jeonghan pleasantly rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he whips out the extension cord and connects it to the speaker with ease. “You really don’t believe in me, don’t you?” Then he glances past Joshua’s shoulders, smirking faintly to himself. “Target incoming. Six o'clock.”

Joshua turns his body around, wiping away the sand from his hands, and his eyes land straight on you approaching up to him. The corners of his mouth turn upward at the sight of you, dazed eyes lingering on the way you carry yourself quietly toward him. The sunlight catches in your hair, and the backdrop of the ocean makes you appear like a painting that had come to life. He quickly clears his throat.

When you come up to him, you hold out your phone towards him.

Didn’t expect to see you here today

Joshua stifles a half-hearted laugh, plucking the phone from your grasp to type right below your line. 

Is that a bad thing? 

As you read the message, you could only scowl playfully, before taking your phone back.

How did you even know about this anyway?

After scanning your message, Joshua glances around before pointing at something behind you𑁋to Wheein and Seungkwan, who were both dashing away from a wave that was washing onto the shore. 

“Your friends are really adamant about cheering you up,” he remarks teasingly. “I couldn’t just say no.” 

You could visibly see the utter panic in Wheein’s face from afar when Seungkwan nearly stumbles into the wet sand, her hands coming to grab the younger boy’s arm to pull him up. Then their faces shift into a fit of laughter. You really don’t know what you would do without them, honestly. 

“Thank you,” You sign to Joshua when you turn back to him. 

Joshua’s eyes roam over your face with a soft, contemplative expression. Then he motions down to your phone that was in your grasp, and you hand it to him, your fingers briefly brushing against each other.

A thoughtful look spreads across his features, before he types a response on your phone, fingers moving swiftly over the screen, and you read his message:

You look beautiful today.

The words on the screen seem to glow brighter than usual, and you feel a rush of affection flood into you like the waves at high tide. Your hand nearly goes limp, almost dropping your phone into the sands below, your heart stuttering in your chest as you regain your composure. For once, even communicating with your hands feels clumsy, inadequate. 

But before you can say anything, a damp hand lands at your shoulder, and you whip your head around to see Wheein standing there, hair dripping wet and chest heaving with exhaustion. 

“If we don’t start, I’m going to kill Seungkwan,” Wheein says while exaggeratedly signing, face scrunched up in annoyance. 

You scratch the back of your neck bashfully before turning off your phone and averting your eyes away from Joshua. You drag Wheein away to help her dry off while the others set up the rest of the equipment. 

By the time everything is set up, there’s a small gathering of curious beachgoers nearby who seem to be drawn by the preparation going on. Some were sitting on blankets spread out on the sand, while others stood in small groups at a respectful distance. 

You find yourself sitting on a blanket with Wheein and Seungkwan right next to you. The two of them were conversing with each other, and all you could do was watch Joshua. He takes out his guitar from the case before sitting on a folded up plastic chair. He runs a hand through his hair and seems to strum a few notes, probably checking the sound levels𑁋Jeonghan sends him a thumbs-up from the side. Seokmin also sits down in a chair right next to him, adjusting the microphone to his mouth and tapping a few times on its head. 

“Hello, everyone!” Joshua announces into the microphone. He’s too far away for you to read his lips properly, but he’s still signing for you, for you to understand even when you’re not directly in front of him. Did he practice all of this beforehand? “Thank you all for stopping by to listen.” 

It’s hard to fully catch what he signs next. He might be nervous, you think, but that’s still endearing in itself. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the beach, as Joshua begins to strum his guitar. Seokmin fixes himself up to the microphone, fingers tapping beats against his thigh. His face shifts into focus, eyes closing to the music taking over that you can feel reverberate through the fresh air. 

Joshua's fingers dance across the strings, then Seokmin's voice joins in. You watch their performance unfold, catching glimpses of their expressions𑁋Joshua's focused yet occasionally glancing your way with a reassuring smile, Seokmin's eyes closed in immersion with the music.

At the corner of your eye, you see Wheein and Seungkwan swaying to the music. When Wheein turns towards you, she reaches down to grab your hand into hers and lifts it up into the air with a grin, swaying your hands together from left to right. She also does the same with Seungkwan, and it’s just the three of you moving your bodies enthusiastically to the music as it swarms throughout the lively atmosphere of the beach. The small gathered audience around seem caught in the moment too. 

When the first song ends, you clap along with the others, feeling the exhilaration of the performance blossom within your chest. Joshua lets his eyes roam around, briefly settling in your gaze for a moment, and the sight of your genuine joy only encourages him even more. He nods to Seokmin, who flashes him a thumbs-up, and then they dive into the next song.

It’s an emotional one this time. You could tell from the pensive looks on everyone's faces𑁋Seungkwan seems like he’s even about to cry𑁋and it only makes you think what they’re singing about. But you don’t let it bother you; instead, you still slowly sway your body, closing your eyes and letting yourself immerse in the moment. 

Grains of sand slip through the cracks of your fingers. The sun has almost fully set at this point, merely just a golden half-circle sinking into the horizon. Water drips down your hair and skin onto the towel below you, goosebumps crawling its way up your arms from the night breeze that was beginning to settle in. You have no idea what time it is right now𑁋the beach is probably going to close soon, you think. 

The others are still wading in the water, except for Jeonghan who might be passed out on another blanket not that far away from you. The events from the past few hours have started to rain down on you, a small yawn leaving you as you use the towel below to dab at your legs. 

However, you feel something encase around you suddenly, and you perk up to the warm feeling of a towel being draped over your shoulders. Looking up, you see Joshua standing right above you, a towel of his own in his hands. He places himself down right next to you as if it was the most natural thing to do, and you let him. You like… being close with him like this. 

Joshua dries off his hair with the towel, and you have to take your gaze away from the fact that his arms are exposed because of the sleeveless black top he was wearing. His hair comes out in a loose mess, wet strands sticking to his forehead. He glances over at you for a second, sending you a brief smile, and again, you avert your eyes away, moving your neck around to ignore the heat creeping up your body. 

You don’t suppress the smile passing over your own face, though.

A light nudge at your side blinks you back to reality, making you turn to see an illuminated phone screen right in front of you.

Tired? 

That was all to make another yawn leave you once again. Joshua just chuckles at the way you angle your face away from the phone screen, trying to hide your weariness. He brings the phone back to type something else before showing it to you. 

Feeling happy though? 

You almost want to scoff at that, but you don’t. It’s hard to not notice the way you feel happy right now. Maybe you’re glowing or something, maybe the pain that you feel in your cheeks is from all the smiles that was plastered on your face throughout the day. Whatever it is, you can’t deny it𑁋yes, you feel happy. 

Joshua sees it too. There was probably no use in asking. The answer blooms on your features, perhaps brighter than the first stars beginning to twinkle above. 

And so, you simply nod. 

When Joshua retrieves his phone back, there’s a subtle shift in his face that was noticeable in the light. His fingers start typing across the screen, but then it stops, starts again, and stops. 

He turns to you, expression turning serious. “Is it okay if I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.” 

You huddle more into the towel and meet his gaze with a curious tilt of your head. His eyes flicker between you and his phone. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, he hesitantly shows you the screen.

Have you ever wished that you could hear again?

For some reason, Joshua expects for you to be taken aback by the question, maybe even awkward or offended. But, instead, a relaxed look graces your features, a subtle curve at your lips, and you shake your head. Then you take the phone, typing out: 

Not really. When I lost my hearing at 7, I used to cry to sleep knowing I won’t be able to hear my parent’s voices again. But over time, I didn’t let it bother me. It’s a part of who I am. It doesn’t make me any less than anyone else. It doesn’t make the world any less beautiful than it is now. There will always be challenges, like missing out on a joke or an important announcement. But I’ve learned to find beauty in the little things. Like feeling music through vibrations, or how sunlight hits my skin and tells me that the day is beautiful. I could read people’s faces and feel their excitement or their sadness. These are sounds in their own ways. So no, I don’t really wish I could hear again. I’ve found my own way to listen and be heard. 

You even feel out of breath after typing all that out, but you feel lighter. Your heart feels completely vulnerable right now, all the thoughts swirling around you seem easy to catch in another’s hands. But Joshua is gentle with those thoughts, as if he’s placing them back down on the ground for you to navigate them together. You notice a flicker of something akin to awe wash over his features as he quietly reads your words to himself, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows. Then, he starts to type. 

For me, I’ve been surrounded by sound all my life. Voices, instruments, the noise of the city. It’s kind of hard to imagine going through life without it. I’ve learned to grow up analyzing tones, pitches, chords, and notes. And because of that I get afraid of being the one off-key. But I like being quiet with you. And I like talking to you. And I like getting to know you. There’s a part of me that thinks I wouldn’t get tired of looking at you. I don’t know if it’s the silence that helps me focus, but I just know it helps me focus on you. 

You swear you don’t even blink when you read over his words, once, twice, five times over. There’s a tugging at the strings of your heart, a sweet ache spreading through your chest, a sensation much to the pull of the ocean’s tide. When you draw your eyes away from the phone and to Joshua, his gaze meets yours in the middle, a hesitant question lingering painted over his features. 

He brings his hands once more. He points to himself first, then faces his hand towards his chest, putting his thumb and index finger close to his chest with the other fingers extended out. Next, he slowly moves his hand forward, bringing his thumb and index finger closer together. And finally, he points to you, like you’re the last piece of the puzzle.

“I like you.” 

A lump forms in your throat, and that familiar flutter of butterflies takes flight in your stomach, but it’s demanding this time and impossible to ignore. Letting your eyes drift over his face𑁋from his somewhat damp, tousled hair and down to the curve of his lips𑁋you know exactly how you feel.

Without hesitation; without doubt, you kiss him the next moment. It’s a tentative touch at first, making Joshua’s eyes widen in surprise and you pull away with uncertainty. For a second, he could only gaze at you, but then an adoring smile blooms across his face, an admiring sparkle in his pupils. Then he tilts his head just slightly, almost in a teasing manner, and leans back in to capture your lips against his once more. 

Even when your eyes flutter to a close, you still feel his smile against your skin, matching the warmth that spreads through you like strokes of paint on a canvas, like music that fills a silent space. Something comes to cover over your hand on the towel𑁋Joshua’s hand rest over yours, warm and securely, thumb coming to reassuringly rub over the skin there. 

When you pull away, you have the urge to bury yourself in the towel wrapped around you or run away in a fit of panic. You end up doing the former, burying your face further in the soft cotton. But Joshua doesn’t let you completely disappear, a shy chuckle of his own leaving his lips as he reaches out to gingerly tug the towel down just enough to reveal your eyes.

“Hi there,” he says softly, before some worry stretches across his face. “Are you okay?” 

You loosely release yourself a bit more from the towel’s grasp around you and meet his eyes with a small, reassuring smile. 

“I meant what I said,” Joshua continues. His hand still rests on yours while he lifts the other one to sign again, “I like you. I really do.” 

Glancing down at your laced hands, you absentmindedly brush away a few grains of sand that stuck to his knuckles. His skin is warm to the touch, and the intimate gesture makes you take a shallow breath. You lift your gaze back to this, and he follows the way you bring your hand up. 

You stick out your pinky finger, almost like a promise, and extend out your thumb as well, before moving your hand back and forth to sign,

“Me too.” You continue to run the tips of your fingers over his hand. I like you too.

“Did Seokmin tell you about Jihoon?”

Joshua sprays a bottle of disinfectant on a table before grabbing the rag that was hanging loosely on his shoulder. “Who?”

“The producer guy.”

The smell of the chemicals sends an unpleasant crinkle to Joshua’s nose. He pauses his cleaning for a moment. “Haven’t heard of him.”

“Well, he’s a producer apparently. A fairly new one. I think Seokmin mentioned that he went to high school and university with him𑁋wasn’t entirely close to him, though. Just a name that was sort of tossed around.” Jeonghan stops to take a loud bite out of a bag of chips. “But I’ve heard he’s got a studio opened now somewhere. So maybe…”

Joshua lightly chuckles. “You know I’ve gotten scammed from this type of stuff, right?”

“I’ve done my research.” Jeonghan promptly sits up in the chair (yes, he’s not helping with cleaning at all). “No heinous crimes have been committed. If anything, the only thing I could find on him is𑁋”

“Yo, Jeonghan! Where do you want this box of shit?” 

Jeonghan turns somewhat annoyedly towards the source of the voice: this guy named Wonsik that he had hired recently since having Joshua as the only other worker around was proving to be insufficient. Joshua can’t say he’s exactly a fan of him though. His attitude is a bit… brash, to say the least. 

“Just leave it in the storage room,” Jeonghan says, pointing in the direction with a chip in his hand. 

After wiping off the final corner of the table, Joshua feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. As he takes it out and catches a glimpse of the notification, he can’t help but smile to himself.

Joshua takes off the apron he’s been wearing, neatly hanging it up on a hook by the door that was designated for staff.

Jeonghan catches him mid-chew. “Curfew time?” 

“Yep.”

“Gross,” Jeonghan mumbles sarcastically while crumpling up his bag of chips. “You know, just because you’re in a relationship now doesn’t mean you get to slack off on closing duties.”

Joshua rolls his eyes playfully. “Whatever, I’ll make it up tomorrow.”

Wonsik emerges from the storage room, catching Joshua’s attention with his loud, assertive footsteps and nearly running into him, the scent of cigarette smoke trailing behind him. He mumbles something about finally finishing taking in all the boxes, carrying the last one labeled with supplies, his expression a mix of boredom and disdain as he spots Joshua preparing to leave.

“Finally taking off, huh?" Wonsik sneers, eyeing Joshua up and down. “Off to be the hero for your little deaf partner?”

Whatever politeness Joshua had to his features had faded away in an instant, his jaw clenching tightly to the words. He adjusts the strap of his guitar case on his shoulder and meets Wonsik's arrogant gaze evenly.

“Watch your mouth,” Joshua says sharply, a warning edge to his voice that cuts through the room like a knife. 

“What? I’m just saying it must be hard to deal with them, that’s all. Like how do you even communicate? Doing your little hand stuff? Must be an ass to handle all that shit.” 

Joshua's nostrils flare at that, sensing his patience wearing thin at Wonsik's blatant insensitivity. His fists clench at his side momentarily, but he keeps in his anger, knowing that losing his cool most definitely won't help the situation at all. Taking a deep breath, he meets Wonsik's eyes with a steely glare.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Joshua replies firmly. “Don’t you have some human decency and respect in you?” 

Wonsik just scoffs haughtily. That dumb, conceited smirk on his face widens even more as he leans casually against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. "Hey, I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking. It's not like I'm wrong, right? You could do so much better, man. You’re just pitying them because you feel bad.”

Just at that, his words strike a nerve in Joshua. “Y/N is more than capable of handling themself. They don’t need anyone else’s pity, least of all mine. So why don’t you mind your own business? Learn some respect while you’re at it, asshole.”

Wonsik shoots Joshua a final contemptuous glance before turning on his heel, shoving past Joshua, and disappearing back into the storage room, muttering something under his breath that Joshua isn’t bothered to decipher. 

Heading back into the main area of the café, Joshua stops right before the door to turn towards Jeonghan. “Do me a favour and𑁋”

“Don’t worry,” Jeonghan interjects, waving him off dismissively. “He won’t come back tomorrow.”

Joshua’s shoulders visibly relax at that. “Thanks,” And when his hand lands on the door handle, he stops again. “I’ll do that thing, by the way.”

“That thing?”

“Mhm.” Joshua just nods. “I’ll ask Seokmin about Jihoon.”

Joshua hums quietly after every pluck of his guitar string, twisting the tuning pegs at the head of the guitar with every note deemed off-key. The sounds leaving his guitar bounce off the walls of your apartment and blend with the smell of leftover ramen that lingers in the room. 

You sit across from him with two steaming cups of tea in your hand, carefully placing them on the coffee table in front of him. He glances up from tuning his guitar, eyes softening as they meet yours. Resting the guitar against the arm of the couch, he gratefully takes the mug that was waiting for him on the table, taking a quick sip of the jasmine tea you had prepared.

You peer at him worriedly, forming a claw shape with your hand and moving it downward to sign, “Hot?”

Joshua shakes his head, sipping once more and setting it back on the table. 

“It’s perfect,” he tells you reassuringly. 

Placing the guitar back on his lap, he positions his arms comfortably over it as if preparing to play something. Yet he catches the way your eyes watch his fingers glide over the strings. Joshua fixes his posture and presses his back against the couch behind. 

“Do you want to try?” he asks. His fingers rest lightly on the strings, demonstrating a chord before letting them hover, waiting for your response.

The hesitation within you is shunned aside from the subtle hope of his invitation. Warily, you shift closer to him, settling between his legs as he positions the guitar in your grasp. His hands cover over yours, guiding your fingers over the frets and showing you how to press down on the strings. The wood of the guitar is smooth under your touch, vibrating weakly as you pluck the strings a few times tentatively.

His breath fans over your skin as he leans closer to help adjust your grip on the guitar neck. You have to turn your head in order to see if he’s saying anything to you. His face is so close to yours now that you can see the fine details in his expression. There’s a slight tiredness in there too, but you don’t comment about it. 

Joshua's fingers move dexterously as he shows you another chord. This time, you press down with more confidence, and the sound resonates more clearly. He watches your face light up, and you can feel the vibrations of the strings through your fingertips. It’s a bit ticklish and you can’t help but giggle softly at the sensation. His hands still hover over yours for a few moments, but then he pulls back to give you a bit more space.

The chords you're playing aren't perfect𑁋they come out off-pitch and you aren’t able to tell, or the strumming patterns are a bit uneven𑁋but Joshua doesn’t mind. He doesn’t seem to notice or care about the mistakes. 

After some time, you cautiously set the guitar on the floor, letting it lean back against the couch. By the time you finish taking another sip of your tea, Joshua is already holding out his phone to you.

If I wanted to get your attention without accidentally scaring you, how could I do that?

A feeling of déjà vu slithers down your body at the question, and you could tell Joshua feels it too. Briefly, you think about the first time the two of you met. It’s quite surreal how far you’ve come already. 

You grab his phone to type:

I wouldn’t worry about scaring me like before, since I know that it’s you. I’m familiar with you. A small tap on the shoulder is okay, or you can flash your phone light. Wheein and Seungkwan do that to get my attention if they’re outside the door

Joshua reads your response, then shoots an understanding look, a thoughtful curve to his lips. The next thing that you catch is a yawn leaving him, which he tries to cover up with a sheepish smile.

“Tired?” You sign to him. 

“A little bit,” he replies meekly. “Just some things on my mind.” 

You tilt your head slightly, curiosity piqued at that. 

Joshua practically melts into the couch, the exhaustion in his posture evident as he stretches out his legs and lets out a soft sigh. 

“Work has been picking up a bit, people are ridiculous sometimes,” he starts, a twinge of frustration to his features. “I haven’t been able to go busking recently either, but… I think an opportunity came up. For music.”

Your eyes widen with interest, and you lean forward slightly, encouraging him to continue.

But he only hesitates. “I just don’t know if it’s worth pursuing. There are so many people out there who make big promises, but not all of them deliver. I don’t want to get involved in something that could turn out to be another dead end.”

A frown crosses its way across your lips. You can sense his apprehension and understand the reason behind it, but you also recognise the glimmer of hope in his eyes. Slipping out your own phone, you type:

You should go with what your heart is telling you to do. I’ll be there to support you either way :)

Your words drip of care and affection, feeling the uncertainty in his heart soften when he pinpoints the sincerity in your eyes. For a brief second, his gaze flickers down to your mouth before returning back up to your gaze. Without another word, he leans in, letting his lips brush against yours in a fleeting kiss. 

Even in the few weeks the two of you have been together, moments like these will take some time to get used to. It’s both intimidating and exhilarating, comforting and thrilling all in one. But it’s undeniable that it feels… right, natural. 

As cheesy as it sounds, that is what his heart told him to do at that moment𑁋to kiss you as a way to say thank you. A shy, boyish grin tugs at the corners of Joshua’s mouth when he pulls away. He takes a visible deep breath, as if drawing strength from your closeness, attentive eyes roaming over your face for any discomfort, but he finds none. The tips of your ears feel like they’re on fire, if anything. 

“Cute.” He lightly taps the bud of your nose, causing you to scrunch up your face in response. “Thank you. I mean it.” 

You only smile and nod under his gaze, signing with a simple, “I know.”

You lose track of time in front of the canvas when a yawn of your own leaves your mouth. Admittedly, it’s been hard motivating yourself to paint lately ever since your rejection at the exhibition, but somehow this time around, the colours on the canvas look more… livelier. 

You glance between the unfinished canvas and to the candid picture that you took that day at the beach of your friends’ smiling faces. If this is how you’re going to encourage yourself to get back into painting, then so be it: painting a moment that you could simply define as happiness. 

When another yawn leaves you, you swirl your paintbrush in a murky cup of water to clean it off before setting it aside. You stand from the chair and stretch, feeling the stiffness in your muscles from sitting in one position for too long. When you shift your gaze behind you, the sight that appears before you sends a leap of surprise through you.

Your eyes land on a sleeping Joshua, whose head rests against the arm of the couch, relaxed body slumped against the cushions, and one of his arms dangling off the edge. Tiptoeing over to him, you grab a blanket that Wheein had crocheted for your birthday from a nearby armchair and drape it over him. He shifts slightly at the movement but doesn’t wake, instead settling more deeply into the couch with a soft, contented sigh. 

You don’t have it in to wake him up, because this feels right𑁋him at your place, falling asleep, and a sense of peace floating through the air. 

If Seokmin didn’t come along, Joshua would probably have turned around on his heels by now and declined the offer. 

Apparently Jihoon’s studio was located in a somewhat sketchy part of the city, and it took only one tumultuous month later to finally set a date to meet up. Joshua glances around the area, taking in a few worn-down buildings and graffiti-covered walls, wondering if this is really the right place.

“This place better not be a dump,” Seokmin mutters under his breath, scanning around nervously. “I swear, Jihoon has always been a bit of a mystery, but he’s got talent for sure. He was practically the maestro of the entire music program back then.”

“And you reunited with him… how?”

“At the gym,” Seokmin answers, but it’s more under his breath as if he was a bit embarrassed by it. The sly laugh that leaves Joshua makes him jut out his bottom lip. “I wanted to know his workout routine! I didn’t even recognise him after all these years.”

Joshua just rolls his eyes, the lighthearted banter lessening some of his nerves. 

It would be his first time to walk into an actual studio. Somehow, Jihoon’s place was a good size to accommodate a variety of sound equipment and a living space at the same time. Compared to the gritty exterior, the inside certainly had more of a calming ambience. Neon lighting illuminated the room, casting a warm glow over the sleek equipment and musical instruments. Records lined the shelves and posters of artists decorated the walls, all bringing more character to the place. 

Jihoon himself was the epitome of calm and collected, bringing an aura of meticulous confidence that caressed every inch of the studio. He’s been working independently this entire time, and according to Seokmin, he's been steadily putting a name for himself in the underground music scene right after graduating from university. 

“So,” Jihoon starts, spinning around in the chair he was sitting on. Even when he was wearing a simple pair of sweatpants and a black tee, he still appeared effortlessly cool. “you’re a singer?” 

Joshua looks down at himself for a moment as if questioning his own presence here, fingertips gliding steadily over the strings of his guitar. “Yeah. Been busking for the past year or so. Played guitar for my entire life. I’ve written some of my own songs, too.”

Surprisingly, this is enough to convince Jihoon. “Alright, then. Show me what you got.” 

In its entirety, it was a surreal experience, and there’s just this inkling, this pinch of hope in the space between the tips of Joshua’s fingers whispering to him that he’s finally on the path to accomplishing his dreams. He’s never heard the sound of his voice so clearly before. Unlike the studio, there are no walls surrounding him when he busks𑁋only the open air, the street sounds blending with his music. But in the studio, the environment is different. 

It’s as if his music is finally being given the space it deserves to breathe and thrive, just like he had always wanted for it to do. 

The excitement is even evident in the way he’s gripping your hand as the two of you are walking back to your place together later that same night. Walking together has always been routine between the two of you, yet now there’s a certain lightness in the air knowing you both share the same love for these moments together. 

Joshua feels the way you squeeze his hand, and when he looks at you, you’re holding out your phone for him to read.

So are you planning on seeing him again next week?

A contemplative look crosses his face, but it doesn’t take long for the corners of his lips to curve up. 

“I think so,” he answers, eyes lighting up with optimism. “I think I might be getting to where I want to be, you know?” 

The excitement that trickles down his body flows through your interlaced hands, and you find yourself smiling alongside him. You love knowing you get to be a witness of this pivotal moment for him. You love seeing him happy just as much as you love being happy around him. 

When you reach the entrance of your apartment building, your hand still hasn’t left his. Joshua gazes past your shoulder towards the door, and then back to you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” he asks, a teasing tilt to his head. “Even for just an hour?” 

You wiggle your eyebrows at him, only giving him a simple shake of your head. 

“Hm, am I that much of a distraction?” he muses, stepping just a tad bit more closer to you, and you know you’re digging yourself more into the ground at this point. “I love watching you paint though.” 

You attempt to power through the way his words send a jolt through you, stubbornly standing your ground with the most serious expression you could muster. It’s not that you don’t want him to stay with you a little longer𑁋because you might quite possibly set everything aside for him without a doubt𑁋but you’ve made it a goal to get back into painting on your own terms and slowly but surely regain your confidence. 

After putting on a small pout, Joshua’s gaze just softens. “Promise me you won’t stay up late?” 

You nod, feeling the warmth of his concern and signing, “Promise.”

He still doesn’t let go of your hand, his thumb coming to caress tenderly over your knuckles. Joshua’s eyes flicker to your lips, and he leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you don’t. Then he leans in and pauses once more, nose briefly brushing against yours, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Goodnight,” he signs when he pulls away, running a hand down your arm before reluctantly stepping back.

You could never get over the satisfying wave of relief that hits you whenever you complete a painting. 

The first time you finished a painting was when you were eight years old. It was a simple watercolour painting of your family house, distinctively placed on a large hill instead of being surrounded by your neighbouring homes. Your mother had stuck it on the refrigerator for as long as you could remember alongside other family photos until it got too worn out from being taken down and put back up so many times, even being forgotten at some points when other mementos covered it. The fridge seemed so empty without it.

Seeing that painting every day reminded you of the joy of creating something with your own hands𑁋filling a space with something beautiful and meaningful, just like you had envisioned it in your mind. It’s not just about copying the photograph you used as reference; it’s about translating those fleeting, joyful moments into something real. You want people to look at your painting and feel the same happiness, the same warmth that you felt in that moment. It’s about capturing a moment in time and making it last forever. This is what art means to you. 

“This is stunning, Y/N!” Wheein exclaims when you stand right next to her. “You made the sand look so real! And you used such a gorgeous gradient for the sky. You gotta give me some tips later! Have you thought about showing this to your teacher?”

You frown a little at that. You haven’t exactly been putting in the effort to show up at all. The sting of that rejection at the exhibition still lingers, making you hesitate to put yourself out there again. You’d rather put on a show for yourself before determining whether or not it’s worth sharing with others. 

“I don’t know,” You answer.

“That’s okay!” Wheein says brightly. “But whenever you’re ready, let me know. We can make a killer portfolio together.”

You let out a laugh at that, mentally taking note of her offer for the future. Wheein just nudges you lightly on the hip with her own.

“You seem so much happier lately,” she acknowledges teasingly, a sly smirk crossing her face. “probably because of a certain someone…”

You feel a light flush creeping up your cheeks, and you glance away with a smile that you can’t quite hide. It hasn’t even been that long since you and Joshua have been together. Yet even though you can call him your boyfriend, he still gives you the space to grow, to dream, and to be yourself, just as you do with him. And in those times you two are together, reveling in the quiet language of your hands, letting your guard down has never felt this easy. You could share a simple smile with each other and the world seems a little brighter, a little more colourful, and a little more hopeful and meaningful. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re smitten!” Wheein exclaims amusedly. “If that’s not love in your eyes, I don’t know what is.” 

Love. What a silly, little word𑁋so small, yet carries so much in between its letters. 

You just chuckle to yourself, savouring the way the word swirls around you.

[07:15 PM | y/n] are you nearing the place? I’m waiting by the front 

You turn your phone off and bring it down, searching around for any sight of Joshua. Passerbys fill up your field of vision, all of them rushing past or casually walking by with their own different lives, but you don’t see him among the crowd. You check the time again, noting that he’s already fifteen minutes late, but you remind yourself that he’s been at Jihoon’s studio for the majority of the day and has probably been busy. 

As you continue waiting, the slight chill of the evening air runs through your bones. It’s getting noticeably colder outside as winter is approaching closer and closer. You glance at your phone again, but the screen remains dark. Another ten minutes pass, and you could feel the worry creeping up your spine. It’s not like him to be this late without a reason.

The vibrant evening around you slowly begins to lose its charm, the excitement within you boiling down into a pit of disappointment, and the thought of standing alone any longer becomes unbearable. So, with a heavy sigh, you decide to walk away, pushing away the disappointment with every step that you take.

[07:28 PM | y/n] I’ll be heading home. let me know when you’re finished at jihoon’s 

You slip your phone into your pocket, feeling a twinge of sadness as you start walking towards the nearest crosswalk. Above you, the streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement below and swallow the lively colours of the evening. 

Approaching the crosswalk, the signal light shines a deep red, instructing you to stop and wait. A crowd of people all stop behind you as you wait for the light to change, and you become acutely aware of their presence surrounding you. 

Your eyes wander across the street, where the traffic light turns red, and cars begin to slow down. Anticipating for the light to signal for you to cross, a sudden flash catches your attention from across the street. It looks like a flashlight, and it was flickering in a deliberate pattern.

The moment the signal light turns green, the flashing stops, unraveling Joshua standing on the other side. People brush past you in order to cross the street, yet you can only find yourself frozen. There’s a flash of urgency you catch to Joshua’s features, and your focus narrows on him as he dashes across the street toward you. 

He’s breathless the second he reaches you, and his face is flushed with relief and desperation. 

“I’m so sorry,” he apologises, signing frantically to you. “I lost track of time. I tried getting on the bus to get here faster but the traffic was bad. I…” His shoulders sink in dismay. “I’m sorry.”

You just shake your head dismissively, but it’s not hard to miss the subtle hurt in your face and the way you sign back to him. “It’s okay. I know your music is important to you.”

“You’re my top priority,” Joshua says quickly, eyes intense with sincerity. “Let me make it up to you, okay?” 

His words send a flutter that makes your heart ache in your chest. Joshua reaches down and takes ahold of your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. You feel a warmth spread through you as he intertwines your fingers.

“Would you like to have dinner back at my place?” Joshua offers, his lips curling up in a hopeful smile. “Jeonghan is staying at a friend’s place tonight, so it’ll just be us.” 

You look up at Joshua, your heart racing at the thought of spending the evening with him. 

“Okay,” You sign to him. 

It’s been years since the last time you saw a record player. Your parents used to have one in the corner of the living room. It was a vintage piece, and you remember how your father used to meticulously handle the vinyl records, placing them carefully on the turntable before lowering the needle. You didn’t hear the music that came from it𑁋the music that they played before you lost your hearing was vague to memory𑁋but you loved watching the way the needle danced across the grooves of the records.

Joshua has an entire vinyl collection, and you look through each one curiously. You see names like Amy Winehouse, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, Elton John, Frank Sinatra, Nirvana, The Beatles, and even some contemporary artists like Billie Eilish, Boys Like Girls, and Lana Del Rey. The covers of each one are like pieces of art themselves, with their vintage charm and intricate designs. 

When Joshua turns away from the stove, he looks at you, where you’re already peering at him.

“Do you want to play something?” You sign to him, thinking that he might want to listen to something while you’re here together. 

Joshua’s eyes only soften as he takes in your question. “You don’t have to play anything.”

You smile bashfully. “I want to.” 

He feels a tug at his heart at the pleading expression to your face. He briefly checks the food cooking on the stove before walking to where you’re sitting on the floor, his vinyls scattered in front of you. 

“Okay,” he tells you. “Pick whichever one you want.” 

Joshua watches as you carefully pick a vinyl𑁋you end up picking The Beatles, a classic𑁋and with practiced hands, he helps you place the record on the turntable and lowers the needle. You watch as the record starts to spin and the needle settles within the grooves.

You turn toward Joshua, signing, “Is it playing?” 

The sound that comes off the record player is a bit distorted at first, but after some time, it manages to smooth out. Joshua just nods, his face lighting up with a smile at the way you appear so engrossed by the spinning record. 

Dinner comes by in a jiffy. The singular kitchen light hangs above the small table that you both are sitting at, the aroma of Joshua’s cooking wafting through the air. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but the simplicity of the meal𑁋steamed vegetables, grilled chicken, and fluffy rice𑁋makes it all the more comforting. You definitely would have preferred this over restaurant food. 

You eat slowly, savouring the flavours of each bite. You can feel Joshua's eyes on you, and you can't help but smile.

“Good?” he asks. 

You give a few enthusiastic nods, and the sight lights up Joshua’s face even further. 

The record player was still faintly playing music in the background, yet the quietness that he gets to share with you is what he cherishes the most. It’s not awkward or forced; it’s a comfortable silence that pleasantly wraps around you both. The occasional pop or crackle from the record player blends in with the sounds of your contented chewing and the soft clinking of utensils.

Afterwards, you find yourself settling on the couch in Joshua’s living room as you wait for him to come back to the bathroom, and you take the time to peer around his space.

You already know that he’s living with Jeonghan too, so you love how you’re able to easily distinguish the small snippets that belong to Joshua. Apart from the collection of vinyl records, you also see a few microphone stands and a keyboard set up in one corner, as well as an empty guitar stand where you know his guitar belongs. 

Letting your eyes drift, the coffee table in front of you catches your attention. There’s a couple of coasters, the remote for the TV, a cute succulent in the middle. But then your eyes land on something else. 

On it, you spot a book laying flat on the table. Curiosity piqued, you reach over to examine it. The book is a sign language dictionary. You open it to find that it’s filled with detailed illustrations of hand signs, and throughout the pages you see Joshua’s handwriting scattered throughout. Some of the pages are marked with sticky notes, others you spot silly doodles of smiley faces in the corners. 

You hardly ever thought about the amount of effort he put into learning how to talk to you, to understand you. A small part of you feels bad that he has to go through all this trouble to learn sign language. But then you remember that he chose to do this, that this was his decision, not yours.

The spot on the couch right next to you dips down slightly as Joshua sits down. He glances at the sign language dictionary in your hands and glances at you with a soft, curious look, and it makes you look away sheepishly.

Dropping the book in your lap, you fumble for your phone, typing out:

You did all of this for me?

When Joshua reads the message, a small chuckle leaves him. 

“I wanted to get to know you better,” he tells you, your eyes flickering between his hands and his lips. “I don’t regret it at all.” 

As his words wash over you, you feel your fingers struggle to put together how much this is affecting you. You type after a few thoughtful moments. 

It must have been hard. I’m sorry

Joshua only shakes his head. “It was worth it. I promise.” He pauses for a moment, gears turning in his head. “Do you want to know the first word I wanted to learn?” 

You watch as he picks up his right hand, opening it up so that his fingers pointed up and his thumb toward his cheek. Then he fans his fingers across his face, and closes his hand in a relaxed fist to sign the word beautiful. 

“You’re beautiful,” he finishes, his fingers gracefully forming the sign again. “I happened to have thought that the first second you walked into the café.”

You could only stare at him incredulously. Even though it isn’t the first time he’s expressed this kind of affection in your few months of being together, it still takes you by surprise, still sends those surges of flutters shooting down your limbs, still makes your mind go blank and your hands go limp.

Cowering behind a hand of your own, you motion a shy finger at him, before rolling your hand over your face, then forming a Y-shape with your hand, and shaking it slightly.

“You’re beautiful, too.” 

Joshua purses his lip together at that, suppressing the giddiness threatening to stretch across his features.

“Well,” he starts, cocking his head to the side endearingly. He won’t ever get over how adorable you are when you’re flustered. “I say we compliment each other quite well then.”

From there, the two of you let out some shared, heartfelt laughter, and it sounds like absolute music to Joshua’s ears. He shows you the pages he’s gone through in the book𑁋from the alphabet and grammar, to basic common phrases, and to more, nuanced, complex sentences𑁋and it looks like he’s more than halfway done with reading and annotating through it. He eagerly points out the words and phrases he's already mastered, and the ones he's still struggling with. It's cute seeing the little doodles and notes he's written in the margins.

When he places the book back on the table and turns to you, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“I can teach you,” You sign to him, a willing passion in your hands. 

Joshua lifts a brow, copying your movement. “Teach me?” 

When you nod, his face morphs into a pensive look. After a few moments, he brightens back up.

“How about the seasons?” he suggests. “We can start with those.”

You begin with spring. Your hands move as if they’re opening up to new life, the gesture mimicking the blossoming of flowers. Joshua watches intently, his eyes following your movements carefully, before mimicking the motion a few times. 

Next, you move on to summer. You form a fist with your palms down at your forehead, before taking your index finger and drawing it across your brow a few times, almost as if you’re wiping away a drip of sweat. 

For autumn, you use your hands to mimic falling leaves from a tree off your non-dominant elbow, making a gentle fluttering motion. 

Finally, you teach him winter. You simply make a shivering motion, as if you’re cold, and Joshua chuckles as he imitates the sign. You watch in awe as he successfully goes through the signs a few times without a hitch. Giving him a few rounds of claps, he gives a shy, pleased smile, clearly proud of his progress.

“I hope we…” Joshua starts, some unsureness flowing through his hands, but he signs the seasons so easily (unbeknownst to you, he already knew them). “...we get to see spring, summer, autumn, and winter together.” 

Perhaps he could feel the way your heart swells in his hands, because he’s cradling it so preciously as he speaks, and he looks at you with such hopeful eyes.

You want to spend every single season with him. 

Later that night, you find yourself standing in front of the sink in Joshua’s kitchen, washing the dishes because you lost him to a game of rock-paper-scissors. 

As you’re rinsing off the final dish, a light tap lands on your shoulder, making you wince for a second before quickly relaxing. A pair of arms then sneaks around your waist, pulling you close and causing you to nearly lose your grip on the plate. 

Joshua gently rests his chin on your shoulder from behind. His breath hits your neck as he wraps his arms around you. He stays like this for a few moments, simply savouring the closeness of your presence against him. Then, with a mischievous smile that you don't see, he brings a finger up and slowly begins to trace your back lightly with the tip, almost like a whisper against your skin.

I…

Curious and slightly ticklish, you crane your neck slightly to look back at him over your shoulder, scrunching your face up as you try to focus on deciphering what he’s trying to write.

… l… o… v… e…

Joshua pauses momentarily, sneaking a glance at the way you’re standing so still in his hold, before tracing the final letters.

…y… o… u.

Eyes widening, you shift around in order to face him, and Joshua rests his arms on either side of you, hands gripping onto the counter behind and practically enclosing you in. 

He leans in, and the world seems to narrow altogether. His half-lidded eyes flicker between your eyes and lips, as if asking for permission, and you could only anticipate what’s coming next as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Chuckling softly, Joshua inches even closer to you, and you feel his nose lightly brush against yours. But instead of pressing his lips against yours, he first kisses your forehead softly, making you shoot your eyes open in a bit of a confused daze. 

But before you can fully process everything, he’s leaning in once again, and this time, his lips gently meet against the tip of your nose. You crinkle it back as a pout runs across your mouth, and Joshua’s grin widens even more. 

“What’s with the face?” he teases, feigning a hurt look. “Is it because I haven’t kissed you properly yet?” 

You answer with him a shy, petty tug at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Give me a smile then,” Joshua insists impishly. “Please?”

Just from that alone, a shy curve sprouts at your lips, and Joshua just watches with a satisfied look. 

“Hmm,” he hums skeptically, but is leaning in closer anyway. “I’ll take it.” 

Then he finally kisses you, mouth moving with an ardent sweetness against yours that renders you breathless. He playfully chases after you as you manage to escape out of his grasp. But he’s quick to catch up to you anyway, the sounds of your giggles mingling with the soft crackling of the record player as you both collapse on top of the couch. 

You tentatively trace I love you on his back when you’re both settled on the couch together, legs intertwined and your head perched at the crook of his neck. He’s asleep, you consider𑁋you can tell by the way you feel his chest rising and falling against yours. 

Yet after you write those words, a shaky, relieved exhale leaves him that you don’t hear.

“All you have to do,” Jihoon starts, offering a seemingly heavyweight set of headphones in his other hand towards Joshua. “is press play right here, and tell me what you think.”

Joshua takes hold of the headphones as Jihoon scoots a bit of his chair away to give him some room. He places it carefully over his ears, feeling the soft cushions envelop them. Then after taking a deep breath, he reaches over to press the play button on the keyboard, and Joshua can feel his heart racing in anticipation. 

Upon playing, he’s greeted with the familiar sounds of his guitar filling his ears, and then his voice comes in. Hearing himself in such a professionally produced track and not just as raw vocals bouncing off the walls of his room is absolutely unbelievable. He could also pinpoint the subtle layers Jihoon has added to the track𑁋a faint drumbeat and soft vocal harmonies. 

It was a song that was once simple lyrics in a dusty journal and a few rough guitar chords. It wasn’t meant to be anything grand; it was originally a personal project made on a whim in the middle of the night just to channel his feelings and his dreams into something palpable. 

But now, hearing it with such rich yet attenuated production for the first time, it feels as if the song has taken on a life of its own. 

“Holy𑁋wow,” Joshua says the moment he takes off the headphones, staring at Jihoon with disbelief. “Are you sure this is my song?” 

Jihoon chuckles at that. “Positive, man.”

Joshua’s eyes remain wide. He holds the headphones in his hands, turning them over and inspecting them closely as if trying to decipher the magic hidden within. 

“I never imagined it could sound like this,” he admits meekly. “I mean, I’ve always dreamed about this, but... to actually hear it like this? It’s incredible.”

Jihoon nods encouragingly. “You had the foundation; I just built on it. I’m telling you, with the right push, it could really connect with people.”

Joshua leans back in his chair, still holding the headphones in his grasp like it's a sacred bar of gold, and lets out a deep breath. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“The recording will be on this USB drive,” Jihoon shows off a tiny, ruby red drive in his hand. “I’ll work on polishing it up a bit more, but this is essentially it. You could also gain some attention from your busking gigs. What do you say?”

Well, it’s not like he can say no to that. 

“I’m in,” Joshua replies with a grin.

The minute that he steps out of the studio later that day, a breeze of cold air suddenly nips at his cheek. Joshua brings his head up to see the sky thick with clouds, and to his amazement, delicate snowflakes begin to fall, gently drifting down and settling on his hair and shoulders. It’s the first snowfall of the season.

There’s something almost magical about the way the snow falls, he thinks. As he continues to walk through the streets, there’s a sense of renewal that washes over him, a fresh start, just like the song he’s worked so hard on and the dreams he's held at the tips of his fingers. He takes a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs, and pulls out his phone to text you. 

[05:39PM | joshua hong] Still have time to meet up later? 

Your reply comes in almost instantaneously. 

[05:41PM | y/n] just left the museum :) it’s snowing outside!!!

[05:42PM | joshua hong] Dress warmly ❤️ I’ll meet you at your place?

[05:42PM | y/n] I will. see you soon ❤️

Chuckling to himself, Joshua pulls the jacket tighter around his body and stuffs his hands inside his pockets, quickening his pace at the thought of seeing you.

When the season of spring rolls over, trees are budding with beautiful, bright green leaves and flowers are blooming in a vibrant array of colours. Spring has always been one of your favourite seasons, and this year is no different𑁋especially if you get to see it with the people close to you.

You’ve been coming back to attend your art class at the museum, and you’ve decided to pick up a small side role as a teacher’s aide to earn some extra money since more people have been enrolling into the art programs. So far, it’s been very rewarding and fulfilling, and meeting new people who share your same passions has been a joy. 

Plus, you could proudly say the spark for painting has been getting stronger and stronger each passing day. 

Wheein greets you with enthusiasm when you walk out of the classroom, explaining with annoyance about how one of the girls in her classroom was someone she heavily despised back in high school. Seungkwan shows up when you both step out of the museum, and you have to remind them that you can’t sacrifice your plans with Joshua to hang out with them at the arcade that just opened down the street. 

“They’re in their honeymoon phase,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes teasingly. 

“They’ve been in their honeymoon phase for, like, half the year now,” Wheein grumbles, though her irritation is more playful than serious. “It’s not like they’re going to stop anytime soon.”

“And Y/N is practically dating a celebrity at this point. Have you seen the way people are talking about his music online?” 

Your best friends are boasting about your relationship right in front of you, making you roll your eyes. But you can’t help the way your cheeks colour with a tad bit of embarrassment and… a hint of proudness too, because they’re right. 

Joshua has had a few more songs released under his name, and performing at the busking centre has become a regular part of his schedule, his days working at the café lessening as he’s been focusing more on his music. His performances have been slowly drawing more attention, both locally and online, and it’s clear that his passion is shining through. You’re incredibly proud of him𑁋you’ve always had been.

Your footsteps are as light as a feather by the time you reach the busking centre. There’s already a good size crowd gathered around, and you can see Joshua sitting in the middle, propped on a stool with his guitar. Seokmin is there too, sitting on a stool of his own with a microphone in front of him, and there’s one more person. Judging by the small details that Joshua alludes to𑁋with the man’s distinctive button nose and laid-back stature𑁋you could only assume it’s Jihoon sitting behind the keyboard with a calm and focused expression. 

As you, Seungkwan, and Wheein find a spot at the edge of the crowd, he seems to spot you almost immediately in the midst of singing a song, his eyes lighting up the moment they meet yours. He gives you a small smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth spread through your chest. Joshua looks completely at ease as he tunes his guitar, his fingers moving cleverly over the strings.

He looks really, really pretty. The sun seemed to be shining down on him in all the right ways, the sleeves of the white collared shirt that he was wearing pulled up to reveal his forearms, and a dainty pair of glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. The subtle spring breeze rumples his hair just enough to make him look effortlessly handsome. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

The entire crowd is captivated, yet it's as if he's singing directly to you, and in a way, he is. The vibrations fly through the air and hit every inch of your skin and into your chest, each note reverberating in your heart. You watch the way his lips move, the way his eyes light up, and the way the crowd responds𑁋it all tells you just how special this moment is.

As the song comes to an end, the crowd erupts in applause once again, and you find yourself brightly clapping along with everyone else. He looks over at you, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still. Then he stands up with Seokmin and Jihoon following, the three of them taking a bow together, before he sets his guitar down and makes his way toward you. 

Seungkwan and Wheein give you knowing looks before stepping aside to give you two some space, leaving to approach Seokmin and Jihoon. 

“Did you like it?” he asks while signing to you. 

You purse your lips together, shooting a musing glance up at the sky, before signing, “You already know what I think of it.” 

“In fact, I do not,” Joshua responds playfully, stepping a bit closer to you. “That’s why I’m asking you, love.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, feigning mock suspicion, and he seems to already know what you’re trying to point out. 

“Of course I’m fishing for compliments,” he adds on with a cheeky grin, endearingly wrinkling his nose that his glasses slide down just a bit. “Your opinion matters the most to me. Winning your approval means that I’ve accomplished the world, you know.” 

You can't help but laugh faintly at his words, though his earnestness warms your heart. Tentatively, you reach out to adjust his glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose. His gaze follows your movements as you pull away from him slightly, the corners of his lips twitching up even further.

“It was wonderful,” You sign back bashfully. A blush creeps up your cheeks as you realise how cheesy it sounds, but Joshua’s features only soften as he reads your hands and catches a glimpse of a twinkle in your eyes when you look at him. 

He reaches down and takes one of your hands into his. “That was all that I needed to know.” Then he glances at the time displayed on his phone and looks back at you. “The aquarium is still open, right?” 

Your eyes widen at that𑁋that’s right, you were too caught in the moment that you nearly forgot about your plans𑁋and you give an eager nod.

“Perfect,” Joshua chips eagerly, his hand squeezing yours encouragingly. “The painting you did the other week reminded me of the jellyfish exhibit.”

“This awfully feels like a break-up.”

Joshua furrows his brows at that while folding one of his shirts and placing it inside a box. “What are you even talking about?”

“You’re breaking up with me,” Jeonghan retaliates jokingly, fauxing a sulky pout. “and moving out. I thought we had something special going on here.”

“You were the one who wanted me to move out in the first place.”

Jeonghan sighs dramatically, slumping his body against the doorframe of Joshua's now half-empty room. “That was before I realised how lonely it would be without you here. And now you’re spreading your wings and flying off.”

As sarcastic as that sounds, the corners of Joshua’s lips turn up fondly. If it weren’t for Jeonghan taking him in as his roommate from the very beginning ever since moving away, he wouldn’t lie about feeling a little sentimental. 

After packing up the remains of his clothes, Joshua stands up from sitting on his ass on the floor for two hours straight, crossing his arms together and shooting Jeonghan a pointed look. “You know I’m only going to be living like… fifteen minutes away, right? And I’ll still be working at the café.”

“I’m officially putting you as full-time then.” Jeonghan’s lips quirk up in a smirk.

“Screw that,” Joshua huffs with a laugh. “I’ve already got enough on my plate.”

“Right, because you’re so famous,” Jeonghan remarks exaggeratingly. “Heard you signed a napkin for someone the other day.” 

Joshua snorts at that in response. Okay, he’s certainly not as famous as Jeonghan depicts him to be, but apparently famous enough for someone to approach him and ask for his autograph on a napkin. Apart from the gigs in the busking centre, he also has a few social media accounts set up where he can post song covers on occasion and drop updates about his music. 

All he has is his presence, a guitar, and a dream that’s slowly taking shape right before him. He knows it’s a long road ahead, but even with the small progress that’s been made so far, he’s hopeful, determined.

The new apartment is small but cozy. It’s not much, but it’s a place to call his own𑁋his own little corner of the world. He decides it’s not worth the energy right now to unpack everything and instead settles on top of the lone mattress that’s currently on the middle of the floor, feeling both exhausted and oddly content. 

He stretches his body on top of the soft surface and lets out a sigh of relief as he sinks into the mattress, gazing aimlessly at the barren ceiling above him. The remnants of packing are scattered about the place, with boxes sitting in corners and unopened bags lying around. His guitar sits on its stand right next to the window. There are still many things to figure out𑁋how to decorate the place, where to put everything, what this all means for his future. 

But for now, he allows himself this moment of stillness; this brief, quiet pause before turning the page to the next chapter.

After nearly nodding off, a few knocks at the door jolt him awake. He blinks in surprise, pushing himself up from the mattress. Stretching out his tired limbs, he makes his way to the door, opening it to find you standing on the other side. 

You stand there with a bag clutched at your side, suspended under the singular hallway light that highlights the fondness in your eyes. You shake the bag lightly.

“Food?” You sign to him.

Joshua swears his heart drops down to his knees just from that alone, his exhaustion melting away from your simple offer. Then his stomach rumbles, as if in agreement, reminding him that he hasn’t exactly had a proper meal the majority of the day from how busy he was with moving in. The nod he gives you makes you chuckle.

As you step inside his new place for the first time, you take a moment to gaze around at the barren walls and scattered boxes. Like any new, fresh canvas, the space holds so much potential and possibilities. If it’s home for Joshua, then it’s also… home for you too. 

The two of you sit down cross-legged on the mattress while unpacking the bag of its contents. The aroma of takeout food travels through the air. You spread out the food between you, and Joshua seems to light up upon seeing the familiar, comforting dishes.

Sharing a meal together feels a bit different now. You don’t exactly know why, but there’s a subtle shift in the air you haven’t noticed until this very moment. There’s a sense of beginning, of making this place feel like home, and it’s oddly intimate. It's a blank slate waiting to be filled with new memories. New memories that you can’t wait to make with him. 

Joshua feels a nudge at his knee while chewing on a sushi roll, seeing that you’re holding out your phone for him to read. 

Can I show you something? 

He swallows his bite of sushi and looks up at you with curiosity, taking a second to clear his mouth while giving a nod.

Shrugging off the nerves, you set your plate of food down to reach into the bag. You pull out a small canvas, and when you turn it over to show him, it shows a beautifully painted scene of a sunset casting over the horizon. The vibrant hues of yellow and orange blend seamlessly with soft blues and purples. Along with that, the silhouette of a couple sitting together𑁋with one leaning their head on the other’s shoulder𑁋under a tree completes the picture. 

Joshua reaches out to touch the canvas, letting a fingertip caress over its coarse surface.

“This is beautiful,” he tells you. “Did you make this for me?”

You nod, and he watches closely as you type on your phone.

I wanted to give you your first piece of decoration for your new place

Joshua’s eyes soften as he reads your message, the warmth in his chest spreading to his entire body.

“It’s perfect, honey,” he says. “I’ll be sure to hang it somewhere special.”

In your eyes, you can already imagine it hung on the empty wall beside the window, where the morning light will cast a gentle glow on it and bring the colours to life. In your eyes, you can imagine your easel sitting right below it, with Joshua’s guitar propped right beside it…

“I should have the stuff to hang it in one of the boxes. I’m not sure which one though.” Joshua’s eyes flicker between the unopened boxes standing intimidatingly in the corner of the room, letting out a small, airy laugh. “But I’ll find it soon, I promise.”

You give him a warm, reassuring smile, as if conveying that there wasn’t any rush in finding it right now. 

When you both finish eating and cleaning up, you find yourself sitting on the mattress, body turned so that you are staring out the window of Joshua’s apartment, reveling in the stillness of the summer night and the way moonlight filters on the wall. Your silhouette is quickly joined by another one as Joshua settles closely beside you, your shoulders brushing lightly. 

At the corner of your eye, a glowing phone screen catches your attention, on it displayed a message from Joshua. 

What are you thinking about? 

The question almost seems silly somehow, yet you ponder for a few moments, before taking the phone to type back: 

I made a big decision today

Joshua lifts up an intrigued brow, and he tilts his head inquisitively at you, the soft brown tones of his eyes glistening like honey. It makes you lose your train of thought briefly as your fingers drift clumsily across the screen.

I’m going to participate in the upcoming exhibition at the museum. I’ve been thinking of trying again for a while now

“You are?” Joshua’s eyes widen. “When is it going to be?” 

“During fall,” You sign in response.

Fall isn’t that far away. The reminder seems to gnaw uneasily at your nerves, and Joshua notices it right away. 

“Feeling nervous about it?” he asks. 

You nod slowly, the weight of your decision settling heavily in your chest.

“It’s okay to be nervous. I know it didn’t go well last time,” Joshua continues. “But, well𑁋you already know what I’m going to say, right?” 

Now, the nod you give is a bit more confident. You bring your hands up to sign, “I believe in you.” You wonder if it’s his favourite phrase, since he’s said it to you so many times before. It holds a special place in your quiet conversations. 

“Exactly.” He wiggles a playful finger in front of your face, the moonlight makes his eyes twinkle with reassurance. “I believe in you. I’ve seen the way you pour your heart into your art. No matter what, you’re going to shine, love. And you have to believe in yourself too, okay? That’s the most important step.”

Joshua reaches over to grab your hand into his, squeezing firmly, before bringing it up to his lips to place a kiss right at your knuckles. You melt at that𑁋probably into the mattress at this point𑁋and hang your head down bashfully. 

When the silence rolls over again, you lean your head on Joshua’s shoulder, your silhouettes intertwining together on the wall.

Maybe this is where you belong, after all. 

There’s a quiet comfort you find in the palette of fall: the colours of leaves changing to warm oranges, reds, and yellows, the subtle crispness of the air that reminds you of the sweet taste of cinnamon rolls, and the way the sunlight feels a little softer on your skin.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the racing thoughts in your head. This is it. The moment you’ve been dreading and anticipating for weeks. You toy anxiously with the sleeves of your cardigan as you walk into the museum, the grand hall stretching out before your eyes. 

It’s all familiar just like last year𑁋the same setup, some familiar and new faces. More people are probably participating than last time since the art program has grown exponentially, and the thought fills you up with trepidation, if anything. Wheein is also here too engaging in the exhibition, Seungkwan was going to come later, and Joshua had already texted you that he's on his way after ending his performance at the busking centre early (though you insisted he didn’t have to… yet he did anyway) though you’re unsure when he’s going to arrive.

Along with the other artists in the room, you take a seat as you wait for the exhibition to finally begin. Then you feel a tap on your shoulder, and you perk up to see Wheein quickly engulfing you in a hug before pulling away.

“Jeez, there you are! You’re sitting like a wallflower and I couldn’t find you anywhere,” she rambles quickly that you don’t entirely catch what she’s saying, but you could tell she’s nervous too. She takes a visible breath, and brings her hands up. “How are you feeling? Heard there’s more competition this time.” 

You offer her a small, reassuring smile. “Nervous, but excited. I feel more prepared.”

Wheein nods, her eyes lighting up at that. “Good. You've got this.” She glances around the room before turning back to you. “See you on the other side?”

“Definitely,” You assure her, feeling a surge of confidence flow through you. 

Wheein squeezes your hand with a firm look one last time before moving off to find her own spot. A short while later, the exhibition officially begins with a long speech by the museum director once more. There’s still no sign of Joshua anywhere, but you tell yourself that you got this. 

Ignoring your sweaty palms, you spot your artwork hanging on the wall. It feels like a small part of you is now on display. And for the first time, there’s a feeling of pride that wraps around you comfortably. You feel more prepared than last time; with the help of Wheein, you wrote down some written statements you could present to the critics and the visitors who come by if they ever ask about your piece. 

A few minutes later, an interpreter approaches you𑁋one who isn't late this time, thankfully𑁋and you greet her with a friendly nod. She offers a kind smile to you, and you feel a bit more at ease, knowing that you’ll be able to communicate effectively with any critics and curators. 

As people start to crowd around the extravagant hall, you find yourself observing their reactions from a distance. Some pause to study your piece closely while reading the written statements you prepared. Others seem to take in the scene with thoughtful silence and then move on to the next artist after you. However, before you know it, time seems to slip away fairly quickly, and you’re surrounded by a sea of curious faces willing to engage in discussions about your painting. 

It’s a bit overwhelming having to explain and answer to so many people at once where you can feel their eyes practically boring into you, but you’ve rehearsed this part so many times that you feel yourself becoming more comfortable, more natural in the way you’re confiding in your work. 

As much as art can be interpreted, reinterpreted, and misinterpreted, you know that in the end, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. Your work is supposed to continue conversations, not end them. And you hope that yours does just that.

After talking to a sweet-looking old couple, you take a moment to catch your breath. You can’t tell if the stars have possibly aligned for you or if it’s just the magic of the night that’s making everything feel so right.

Just as you're starting to relax a bit, a familiar, comforting sight at the corner of your eye captures your attention. And when you bring your head back up to welcome the next visitor, you find Joshua right in front of you, coming up with his arms behind his back and a playful look on his face. He’s dressed in a comfortable navy blue sweater and a pair of beige jeans, appearing effortlessly handsome and soft as always. 

“Hello,” he greets warmly before stopping in front of you, letting his eyes trail past you in order to roam over the large painting that sat behind. So this is what you’ve been keeping a surprise all this time. “Your painting is beautiful. Can you tell me more about it?” 

You blink in surprise at his sudden performance on being a visitor, biting back a smile creeping up your lips and the affectionate flutters bursting in your stomach. 

Gesturing to the painting, you start to explain as your interpreter steps in to translate to Joshua. You start with the basics of your piece: the inspiration, the styles and techniques you used, and what you hoped to convey, and Joshua listens attentively, though he seems to be more focused on you than anything else. For some reason, him being the only one standing here is making you more nervous than the group of people you talked to earlier. 

“I could see the passion you put into your piece,” Joshua says softly. “It’s admirable. It was the first thing that caught my eye when I walked in here and I could tell that there’s something truly special about it𑁋that there’s a lot of heart in it. So thank you for sharing this part of you to the world. You have a gift, honestly.”

You find every ounce of wanting to thank him shy away as a blush rises to your cheeks. Instead, you give a small nod, head hanging down as if the floor was the most interesting sight in the world, feeling overwhelmed by his words. If you look at him, you’d feel like you would melt into a puddle on the floor.

Joshua chuckles quietly at your reaction before giving you one last lingering look. You watch as his shoes walk out of your line of sight, his presence leaving behind a comforting feeling to settle in your chest, right by your heart. You feel like you can conquer the world right now. 

When you finally bring your head back up, you don't spot him anywhere. For a moment, you scan the large room, looking for the familiar navy blue sweater, but you assume he’s already moved on to another part of the exhibition. 

You let out a breath you hardly noticed you were holding until now. 

As the evening winds down and time is getting closer to the dreaded announcement of results, the atmosphere in the museum starts to shift from the excitement of the exhibition to a more anticipatory hush as everyone returns back to their seats. The tremble in your hands returns back once more as you peer around anxiously, hoping to see some sight of a familiar face𑁋of Joshua, of your best friends, of anything. 

Minutes later, Wheein and Seungkwan run up to you with wide, beaming grins. Joshua isn’t with them, though. Your shoulders deflate slightly.

“They’re about to announce the results!” Wheein exclaims, signing to you with more enthusiasm than you can ever have right now. “How do you feel?”

“I swear I saw so many people gathered at your painting earlier,” Seungkwan adds in. “That’s got to be a good sign, right?”

“Not all the time,” Wheein reassures him with a disappointed tone, but she keeps a light-hearted smile. “Usually it just means people were interested, but hey, it’s definitely a good sign! You should be proud of yourself, no matter what happens, Y/N, okay?”

You force a smile at that, trying to hide the nervousness that’s crawling up your spine. You're not sure if you're ready to hear the results, yet at the same time, there’s a pang of excitement that’s hard to not acknowledge too.

The museum director steps up to the podium once everyone scrambles to return to their seats. You shoot glances around the room, spotting familiar faces, some looking calm and composed, others nervously tapping their feet or fidgeting with their clothes. You can hardly catch up with the way your heart is racing like it's running on overdrive, but you attempt to readjust your focus to the director. 

“Now, I would like to formally express congratulations to all who have claimed a place in this year’s annual exhibition. We had an outstanding number of participants and submissions this year. It was a very challenging time for the judges…”

The director’s voice is steady, yet each word that you watch leave his mouth seems to stretch on as your nerves make the second feel like minutes then to hours. Your palms have become clammy, and you grip your hands into tight fists, your nails digging into the skin of your palm. 

“…the judges have taken into consideration to select the works that stood out in originality, technique, and emotional impact. And now, for the results…”

Your breath catches as the director begins to announce the winners slowly but surely, one by one, heartbeat thumping stronger with each one. The names come and go, each following with a few moments of applause erupting around the room that you echo along with as the artists hop onto the stage to retrieve their certification from the director. It’s like a momentary pause of time before the next. 

The moments that pass feel as if a small weight is being lifted from your shoulders, only to be replaced by a heavier, more pressing sense of anticipation, of dread, of doubt. Déjà vu starts to seep into your thoughts as you bite at your bottom lip and bring your eyes down from the stage, feeling your chest tightening with hopelessness. There’s no point. 

And it’s because you’ve become so attuned to your thoughts that you don’t notice the collective murmur of excitement that ripples through the crowd right before you. You pick up to clap your hands for the name was just called, only to be met with quite literally everyone’s faces on you. Nothing but confusion clouds your mind. 

Are they… clapping for you?

The realisation hits you hard, and for a few long seconds, you’re caught between disbelief and elation. Your body feels absolutely frozen in place; everyone’s mouth is moving too fast for you to fully process; the world around you feels like it’s spinning. The moment seems to stretch into an endless void, and you can barely believe what’s happening. The crowd’s faces blur into a sea of smiles and congratulations… for you. 

Your name𑁋your artwork𑁋had been recognised.

You nearly tumble on the way to the front at the way your legs feel numb underneath you, each step feeling as if you’re floating on air. Perhaps this is really just one, long, tortuous dream, but the way your trembling hands clutch the certificate as you receive it from the director feels startlingly real. 

The director offers you a handshake and an acknowledging smile, but you hardly register it all in your mind. In those short moments, you take the opportunity to swiftly scan the room, catching sight of Wheein and Seungkwan clapping happily for you, and Joshua standing right next to them. He’s clapping along too𑁋is that a bouquet of flowers in his hands?𑁋with a warm, proud smile painted across his features. You consider it more important than any of the applause around the room; more important than the award itself, ironically.

You make your way back to your seat, the certificate feeling both heavy and light in your hands. Every congratulatory smile that the other artists send to you is like a burst of warmth against the cool autumn night.

As the last of the names are called, you find yourself drifting among the crowd, eyes in search of your friends. But it isn’t long for your body to be engulfed by the arms of Wheein and Seungkwan who have managed to squeeze their way through the crowd to find you, their faces glowing with uncontainable excitement.

“Y/N, you did it!” Wheein exclaims, her eyes glistening with joy as she shakes you by the shoulders. “I knew you could! I’m so proud of you!”

“I told you it was a good sign!” Seungkwan remarks to Wheein before facing you with a wide grin. “Shit, I’m about to cry again𑁋I’m so happy for you, Y/N!”

As their words sink in, an overwhelming bubble of triumph grows within you. A shaky laugh leaves you as they continue to shower you with their happiness, heat beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes from how much your heart feels so fully right now. 

Wheein drags Seungkwan by the wrist to greet the other artists, and you’re left standing at the very side of the museum, gazing wandering around through all the faces within your vicinity. You don’t see any sign of Joshua anywhere. Did he get lost? 

With that, you pull your phone out to text him, before your eyes widen in surprise at the way you missed a message from him sent five minutes ago. You were a bit too distracted by everything else that you didn’t feel the notification of his text.

[09:03PM | joshua hong] I’ll meet you outside ❤️

Without any hesitation, you slip your phone back into your pocket and make your way toward the exit of the museum, leaving behind the lively inside and into the peaceful night. The cool autumn air greets you with a refreshing embrace as you step outside, the sky painted with the soft hues of dusk.

Joshua isn’t standing that much farther away from you, spotting him waiting idly by the small gate at the entrance of the museum, a singular spotlight shining down on him from above. As you start to approach him, he seems to notice and turns his body toward you, a smile spreading across his lips. 

“What are you doing out here?” You sign to him curiously.

Joshua’s lips form a thin line in thought, signing back expressively while answering, “Too noisy in there, and I thought you deserved some fresh air. Plus, I wanted to give you something.”

After that, he pulls out the bouquet of flowers from behind his back and extends it toward you with a sheepish look.

“I know you probably already saw them, but I couldn’t hide it any longer,” he tells you. “Congratulations, my love.”

The pleasant fragrance of the flowers float to your nostrils as you take them into your grasp. The flowers themselves are a perfect assortment of colours you find dear to your heart, like each one was personally handpicked for you. The thought and everything else has heat prickling at the corners of your eyes. It’s all too much and just enough at the same time.

Joshua grabs ahold of your hand, pulling you close to him so that one of your arms is wrapped around his waist. He places a small kiss on the top of your head before leaning down to look into your eyes.

“Look at you,” he coos softly, perhaps a pinch of tease behind his words you detect. “You’re glowing.” 

You nearly laugh at that, coming out as a shaky and probably ugly snort instead that makes you bury your face into Joshua’s shoulder. Maybe you are glowing, maybe it’s just the spotlight hanging over, or maybe you’re just too happy to even care. You feel his chest lifting and receding from the laughs of his own as you cling to him. For a moment, everything else fades away𑁋the museum, the crowd, the nerves.

When you pull away slightly, he’s still looking at you, taking the chance to let a finger slowly caress the skin of your cheek. There’s stars in his eyes that you could pinpoint, ones that seem to shine brighter than even the largest of constellations. You feel like you could get lost in them, in him, and for a moment, you do. Your breath hitches in your throat. 

A gentle breeze carries the scent of fallen leaves, the soft rustling of leaves surrounding the two of you. It's as if the world has paused, giving you a moment to simply be with each other.

You bring the arm that was around his waist back to your side. He still holds you by the hips as you bring a hand up to sign.

“I know that I can’t hear,” You start to sign slowly, his gaze flickering down to your hands curiously. “but I can feel your voice when you hold me.”

Joshua nods thoughtfully. He seems to contemplate something for a moment, before bringing his hands from your hips and up to sign. 

“How does it make you feel?” 

You purse your lips in thought, trying to find the right signs to express what you're feeling. It's hard to put into words, or even signs, the way you feel when you're with him.

“Safe… loved…” You draw your fingers graciously through the air, and Joshua’s eyes soften with affection as he watches. “...heard… understood…”

The words fly off your hands and swirl around like a planet orbiting its sun. As you peer into Joshua's eyes, you know he understands. He's always understood.

“I want…” You begin hesitantly, somewhat feeling silly at what you’re about to ask from him. “...to feel you say something to me.” 

Joshua’s eyes widen slightly, and he tilts his head intriguingly, waiting patiently for you to continue. 

You start with taking the fingertip of your hand touching your chin, before drawing it away in the form of a small arc. Next, you point to yourself, then you point towards him. Taking both arms, you cross your arms over your chest as if you were hugging yourself. And then finally, you point back at yourself. 

“Tell me that you love me.” 

A faint hint of a smirk crosses his features, before it softens into a simple look, a simple smile. Joshua just steps back forward and takes you back into his embrace, letting you press yourself against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close enough that you could possibly even feel his heartbeat. You love feeling that as well.

You swear that if there was one place you could stay in forever, it would be in his arms. And right now, it was only the beginning of something beautiful.

“I love you,” he tells you. For the first time, you don't read his lips to know he said it, yet you feel those three words resonate through your entire being and down to the very core of your heart, just where they belong.

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[simplygojo]

What Was I Made For?

Authors Note: Soooo I am not sure where your request went in my inbox...but this one is for you @maryhyun254!!

I lovedddd this request. Thank you so much for submitting my friend!! I actually rewrote it a few times, I wasn’t sure what approach to take with it, so I hope it is up to your standards!! I am always open to feedback so let me know! Have a superb day/night ;)

P.s. I did have to play “What Was I Made For” twice while reading the fic, so maybe put the song on repeat while reading too (for the vibes).

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Word Count : 2.1k

Warnings : Just some existential thoughts and some intimacy…

The silence of the night felt suffocating, blanketing the Jujutsu High grounds in an eerie stillness that you could never quite get used to. No matter how many nights you spent here, the emptiness always pressed in on you, threatening to crush the air from your lungs. You found yourself wandering again, your thoughts heavy, your steps aimless.

You didn’t know why you felt this way—so out of place, so lost. Lately, it seemed as though nothing made sense. Every mission blurred together, each day folding into the next until all you had left was this hollow feeling in your chest. You couldn’t shake it, couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it clung to you like a shadow.

You reached the courtyard, your feet stopping of their own accord. The cool breeze bit at your skin, but you welcomed the discomfort—it reminded you that you were still here, still alive. But for what?

What was I made for?

The thought had been gnawing at you for days, echoing in your mind like a haunting song. You had been taught that as a sorcerer, you had a purpose. To protect, to fight, to uphold balance. But somewhere along the way, you had forgotten why any of it mattered.

You slumped down onto a stone bench, elbows resting on your knees as you stared at the ground. You didn’t even notice the familiar presence approaching until you felt his gaze on you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold sitting out here like that.”

Gojo’s voice was light, teasing as always, but you could hear the undercurrent of something deeper. He wasn’t here by coincidence.

You didn’t bother looking up, your voice low, defeated. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” His tone softened, and suddenly he was there beside you, sitting so close that his arm brushed yours. For a man who could always command a room, Gojo had a strange ability to slip into these moments as if he belonged there, no questions asked.

You shifted uncomfortably, still not meeting his gaze. “Why are you here?”

Gojo tilted his head, watching you carefully. “You’ve been distant lately. Something’s up.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Distant? No. I’ve just been… trying to figure out why I’m even here.”

There it was. The truth. The question that had been eating away at you for days, weeks, maybe longer. You weren’t like him—like Gojo, the strongest sorcerer. The one who always seemed so sure of himself, so certain of his purpose. You were just you, and lately, that didn’t seem to be enough.

Gojo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, gazing up at the night sky as if contemplating your words. You could feel the weight of his silence, pressing against you, urging you to continue.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I feel… empty.”

Gojo shifted beside you, turning his head to look at you fully. “You think I don’t feel that way too?”

You blinked, finally glancing up at him. His eyes, though hidden behind those familiar dark sunglasses, seemed to burn with a quiet intensity. “What do you mean?”

He let out a soft sigh, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, mirroring your posture. “Being the strongest… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re Gojo Satoru. You don’t get to complain about being the strongest.”

Gojo chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “That’s where you’re wrong, y/n. You think being the strongest means I don’t feel lost? Like I don’t question why I was given this power? I ask myself every damn day.”

His words hung in the air between you, sinking into your skin, wrapping around your heart. You hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not from the man who seemed invincible, untouchable.

“Then why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why do you keep doing it?”

Gojo turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Because there’s more to it than just being strong. It’s about what you do with it. Who you protect, who you fight for. That’s what keeps me going.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you in ways you weren’t prepared for. Protecting. Fighting for someone. It sounded so simple when he said it, but for you, it felt unreachable, like a distant dream you could never quite touch.

“But I don’t know what I’m made for,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “I don’t feel like I belong here. I’m not like you. I’m not strong enough.”

Gojo’s gaze softened, his fingers gently brushing against the back of your hand. The contact was brief, almost fleeting, but it sent a shiver through you. “You don’t need to be like me. You don’t have to be the strongest to matter.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes searching his for any hint of deception, but all you found was sincerity. It was rare to see Gojo like this—unguarded, open. Vulnerable, even. It made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

“But what if I can’t do it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m not enough?”

Gojo’s hand slipped fully into yours then, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the moment. “You are enough, y/n. You’re here. That’s enough.”

The simplicity of his words made your heart clench, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the weight of everything finally catching up to you, or if it was just Gojo—the way he always seemed to know what you needed to hear, even when you didn’t know yourself.

You swallowed thickly, your gaze dropping to where your hands were intertwined. “I don’t know how to feel right now.”

Gojo’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, a gentle reassurance. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Or tomorrow. Just… let yourself feel. Whatever it is.”

The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, and you hated how vulnerable you felt in front of him. But Gojo didn’t pull away, but instead, he held you tighter, his hand warm against yours, grounding you in the quiet comfort of his presence. The tears fell freely now, and you couldn’t stop them, even if you wanted to. All the doubts, the fears, and the weight of your own self-worth came crashing down, and for once, you let it happen. You let yourself break.

Gojo didn’t say anything, didn’t offer platitudes or try to fix you. He just sat there, silent and steady, his hand never leaving yours. It was enough. His presence was enough.

After what felt like an eternity, your sobs finally subsided, leaving you feeling lighter, though raw and exposed. You wiped at your eyes with your free hand, sniffling as you tried to collect yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” Gojo interrupted softly, his voice unusually gentle. “You’re allowed to feel this way. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

You glanced up at him, his face closer than you realized, his bright eyes locked onto yours, no longer hidden behind his sunglasses. The way he looked at you—so open, so real—made your breath catch in your throat.

Before you could stop yourself, you asked, “Do you ever feel like you weren’t made for this? Like… maybe you weren’t meant to be a sorcerer?”

Gojo let out a soft sigh, his gaze drifting to the night sky for a moment before returning to you. “Every day. There’s always this pressure to live up to something, to be someone… but no one ever tells you what happens when you don’t know what that ‘something’ is.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. Gojo—the strongest sorcerer alive, the one everyone looked up to, relied on—felt that way too? It was almost too much to believe. But as he spoke, there was no trace of his usual teasing tone, no cocky smirk. It was just him, raw and honest in a way you rarely saw.

You leaned in a little, your forehead almost brushing his shoulder as you stared at the ground. “Then why do we keep going?”

Gojo’s hand tightened around yours, and when he spoke, his voice was low, serious. “Because none of us were made for anything, y/n. It’s the path we make that matters. We choose who we become, what we fight for. The rest… it’s just noise.”

His words seemed to reverberate in the stillness, sinking into your heart and filling the empty spaces. You swallowed hard, his gaze now fixed solely on you. The vulnerability in his voice, the quiet strength behind his words—it was all so different from the Gojo you thought you knew.

Without thinking, you shifted closer to him, closing the small gap between you. You could feel the warmth of his body, his breath on your skin. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, then back to his eyes. The air between you was charged with something you couldn’t name, something that made your heart race.

“Gojo…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He didn’t wait for you to finish. In one smooth, deliberate movement, his hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His touch was soft, reassuring, but there was an urgency to the way his eyes searched yours, as if he were asking for permission. And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

The world around you seemed to fall away in that instant, leaving only the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, the way his hand cradled your face like you were something precious, something worth holding onto. The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t about desire or passion. It was about understanding—an answer to all the doubts and fears you had shared tonight.

You kissed him back, your free hand instinctively reaching up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. He responded with a soft sigh against your lips, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss just slightly. It wasn’t hurried or frantic, but there was an undeniable intensity to the way he kissed you, like he was trying to tell you something without words.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin. You stayed like that for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

His voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something soft and unguarded, that made your chest tighten. You had never seen him like this before—so real, so human.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession.

Gojo’s hand moved from your face to your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Me too,” he said softly. “But being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re alive. And you’re not alone in this.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from relief—from the quiet comfort of knowing that even in your uncertainty, even in your fear, Gojo was there with you. That maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to have all the answers.

“You’re not alone,” he repeated, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him.

Gojo’s lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more certain. It was a promise, a reassurance that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring all of your doubts, your fears, and your hope into it.

When he pulled away again, his eyes locked onto yours, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Step by step.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as the warmth of the night wrapped around the two of you. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the question that had been haunting you—what was I made for?—didn’t seem so overwhelming.

Because maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about being made for something.

Maybe it was about choosing your own path. Maybe it always has been...

---

Author's Note II: THIS IS VERY POORLY EDITED, PLEASE FORGIVE ME ILY THANKS FOR READING

[visenyaism]

Sorry if you’ve been asked this but what do you think of all the rot in asoiaf? Obv some of it is related to the problems with monarchy but I feel like a lot of it isn’t and it just leaves me curious. Like cold hands or people killed by the others idk what that symbolizes there. Jon is in a land in which rot is in stasis from the cold and it’s creepy as shit. And then there’s stuff that could have multiple interpretations like dany by proxy of selmy experiencing bio warfare with the corpses like I know some people see it as the fall of old ghis but I wondered if maybe it was a sign to dany about breaking the wheel and doing as her ancestors did. Idk I know it’s a nasty series and sometimes grrm is just doing stuff so that it’s gross but I feel like rot comes up SO much and I people are usually talking online about like Tywin when it comes to rot.

Oh one of my favorite things about the asoiaf series is how heavy-handed george rr martin is with the rot symbolism. and (at the risk of sounding like an mfa vomited on my keyboard) the way that the political, pestilential, societal, and climatological aspects of the rot symbolism all interconnect.

In a society founded on so many feudal evils that has perpetuated for centuries, something has to give. It is a recurring theme in these books that violations of human decency under feudalism cause cataclysmic societal collapse represented through literal and metaphorical pestilence.

There’s the sociopolitical collapse in the riverlands caused by war of human decency and norms like guest right and prohibitions on kinslaying or cannibalism just dedicating away as times get hard. broken men. bodies left to rot in the sun for the crows to feast on. There’s the fermenting wildfire under every major street in Kings Landing. There’s the familial/relational decay of incest especially the targaryens and the lannisters. The people who hold power and that society rot, despite everyone’s best efforts at keeping up appearances: Robert Baratheon the “war hero” dies of a very nasty festering stomach wound he got in a drunken hunting accident, Tywin gets shot on the privy and his corpse putefies in the sept.

The climate stuff is also very salient. The series starts during late summer and as things get worse and worse in the world declines into the autumn where the summer fruit and all of the abundance is literally rotting through the hands of the characters. (see: renly’s peach vs doran’s blood oranges!) The cold up at the wall keeps the rot at bay for a while, but it does not entirely stop it. Coldhands’ hands are still blackening. Things are still unraveling at the hinges of the world. that’s pretty representative of the way that the violence of the border wall and the penal colony stationed there to patrol it are not sustainable. The decline of the night’s watch from a once proud order to a penal colony full of cruel and often impoverished convicts dropped off there by circumstance is a symptom of the society that sends people up there. But something still has to give. The wall will fall down and the existential crisis will come, it’s just slowed.

Critically, there is also the forgotten parable of Old Valyria: a society founded on extreme cruelty and slavery which eventually experiences cataclysm coming up from the very tunnels they send the enslaved into to die for the empire. A lot of what Daenerys experiences in Essos is an extension of that commentary on slave societies to me. Like. as the slavers try and reconquer places dany has liberated, people fleeing the violence, bring disease like the bloody flux with them. The rot creeps back. (important: disease and rot in the series is not always something people get for being morally bad. it often happens to people who just have no choice but to live in these places.)

But that’s why I think the way Volantis is described really ties a lot of those elements of the rot symbolism together. This is a society that has founded itself up from out of the corpse of old valyria. The city maintains some veneer of old glory, but the fountains are dry and the paint is chipping. The people there eat food that is so sweet it literally causes your teeth to rot out if you were to consume it every day. In terms of climate, I think it’s relevant that it is described as extremely, almost disgustingly, humid, and everything is excessively perfumed to cover up a tangible smell of decay.The air is quite literally cloying and difficult to breathe. You feel dirty after walking through it. The evil of slavery is rotting the city to its core in the same way that the evil of feudalism and the wars for the iron throne is affecting the city of king’s landing.

To wrap allllll this up. Rot is a signal that obviously societal collapse is coming, but it’s also transitional: the empire of old ghis brought about its downfall, and then valyria found itself on the same principles which brought about its own downfall, and then the Targaryen went to westeros and engineered their collapse in Kings Landing while the freehold did the same essos. I think the climatological and disease aspects of it are really heavy-handed symbolism that something has to give in the societies and we’re at the point in the series where that’s about to happen.

I think the ultimate arc of the series ends in some form of significant societal collapse, but instead of building upon a rotten foundation again people are going to have try and hope for something new and gather the courage to build that.,quite literally dreaming of the spring.

[hedgehog-moss]

Some news that made me smile today

1. There was a funny article in Le Monde about French people's existential questions as to what to do with their trash in these times of garbage collectors' strikes (in various cities not just Paris). Some started storing their trash on their balcony so there wouldn't be so much in the streets, then started feeling embarrassed because now all your neighbours know you're a class traitor. True enemies of the reform divide their trash into several bags to make the piles in the streets more imposing. "They're asking their friends what their strategy is, talking about their trash bags like they're ballots." The article quotes people as saying: "My gesture of support for the revolution: putting my trash bags outside so they've got something to burn." "I'm thinking of putting my trash in the boot of my car and driving up to Paris to add it there."

The strike has been going on long enough that more complex reflections are arising: "why are we piling the trash on the pavement, bothering pedestrians, rather than putting it in the middle of the road to bother cars?" Also some people are driving their trash around to go put it in the streets of the strike-breaking districts where trash is being removed by private companies. The commitment. The conclusion of the article is that people who don't close their trash bags properly "cannot be said to be doing this out of any political strategising" and should stop doing that.

2. The garbage collectors' strike in Paris was due to end tomorrow (I think) and I was wondering if they would be able to extend it, and I just learnt that garbage collectors in the private sector are taking up the torch, they'll be on strike starting tonight. They handle different arrondissements of Paris—the 1st, 3rd, 4th, 10th and 18th. No big deal, just the Louvre, the Palais Royal, Rue de Rivoli, Montmartre.

3. I'm late for this one but some football fans attending the France-Netherlands match at the Stade de France in Paris chanted "Macron démission" at the 49min3s mark... Apparently they had organised it because Macron was supposed to be present for the match, but he wussed out cancelled at the last minute.

4. Our ministers are cancelling things too—they've been told to "postpone all non-imperative official visits" within the country because Macron's finally running out of cops I guess and if you send them to protect ministers you won't have enough to intimidate Parisians. The Minister of Labour is quoted as saying "our security forces are exhausted." So it seems we've grounded our government for the time being.

[cassiopeiasdaughter]

mirrorball

Theodore Nott x fem!reader

warnings: language, mentions of stress and an existential crisis? not proofread

summary: you are stressed and tired from being the one that takes care of everyone, and a concerned Slytherin boy wants to help

this was requested by @lalalenka and Paula 💛 for my celebration Theodore masterlist

When did life get so heavy? When did play dates turn into study sessions? When did begging your mom to check for monsters under your bed, turn into you crying into your pillow over your worries and fears? When did reality start feeling so real?

You think about that often, especially at nights, when your friends are asleep and you can remove the mask you wear, the face of happiness and optimism. You don’t have to play the part of the person who has everything under control when you are alone, you can be yourself, lost and afraid.

You are currently sitting in the Great Hall, waiting for your friends to come down for breakfast, start yet another busy day together. You woke up earlier today, exam season is coming up and sleep is something you struggle with, during those times. You know, your friends always wake up too late, that’s why you’ve grabbed their favorite pastries from the breakfast table, so you can hand them later on your way to class. It’s peaceful like this, sipping your coffee alone, planning your day as you eat; quietly going over everything you need to do-

“Are you alright?”, you hear a voice interrupting you from your thoughts

It’s Theodore Nott, you realize as you raise your head. Theodore, Theo is not a friend of yours. He is a boy from your year, a Slytherin, that you occasionally talk to during class. 

You see him at the library almost everynight, you two are always the last ones to leave. Your study dates, as you like to call them, began during 5th year; when you were hunched over a tome of Arithmancy begging yourself to understand, what the passage in front of you was saying, but failing miserably. That’s when you felt his hand on your shoulder, asking, if you accidentally cast a spell on yourself.

“I can’t understand anything.”, you remember whining and he spent the night tutoring you. You offered him help in DADA, in return and you ended up studying together for your OWLs. You like to think that you passed with good grades thanks to him, but he doesn’t agree.

Theo, is someone you feel calm and safe enough around to not fake your feelings or thoughts, most of the times, at least. Again, he isn’t your friend, but he isn’t a stranger or a mere acquaintance either. What he is exactly, that you can’t answer.

“I’m fine, why?”, you reply looking at him confused

“You’ve run out of bread for your butter.”, he says taking a seat across from you.

You stare down and see that you’ve been spreading butter on a slice of bread for so long that you’ve made a hole in the middle, with crumbs all over your plate.

Before, you can say or do anything he places a large piece of toast in front of you, with butter and blueberry jam, just how you like it.

“See you later.”, he calls out as he leaves, not giving you the time to thank him.

You spend breakfast with a smile on your face, your day suddenly feeling warmer and brighter.

“Goodmorning!”, you hear your best friend singing, while she wraps her arms around you and takes a seat.

“Morning to you too.”, you say laughing and hand her her favorite chocolate cake the one that always runs out first.

“What would I do without you?”, she says cheeks stuffed and crumbs falling everywhere- a sight that makes you laugh and always reminds you how much you love her.

“Probably still wandering around the forbidden forest.”, you say laughing, and cutting a corner from her cake

“That was ages ago, please let it go.”

“Never, now come on, we’ll be late.”, you giggle at her protests and drag her to class.

Theo isn’t brave or daring, if he were, his friends wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time about his crush and his approach, the lack of action mainly.

“You keep going like that, you won’t be in the friend zone, you’ll be in the study buddy zone, which is far force.”, Blaise warned him. But what was he to do about that? You had different friend groups and your schedules didn’t match. Was he supposed to just ask you to Hogsmeade out of the blue? 

“Yeah so this is the proper movement for the spell, now what are you doing Saturday?”, no way would he ever say that.

“Yeah, you’ll be associated with Ancient Runes Theo, no one finds that hot.”, Pansy commented- to which he responded with an eye roll.

“Maybe, I don’t want to do something about it.”, he said to his friends 

“Keep pining then.”, Draco replied 

“Maybe I will.”, and with that he stood up and left, wanting to take a walk and clear his thoughts, ignore his friends and their unfortunately correct but not practical opinions. It was fine, he would get over it and he would be fine. 

He would not be fine, he told himself as soon as he saw you, second time for today; laughing with your friends- pestering them to drink water- running around with bottles in your hands. 

His eyes light up by the way you giggle as you talk to them, maybe you are telling a story- he can’t understand, but your gestures and facial features- the way you look; alive and loud and beautiful, they send shocks down his spine. 

He knows it’s cheesy and stupid, but to him you are the sun. You are warm to others, always making your friends laugh- you take care of them, sometimes to the point of neglecting yourself. But, you are loving and kind and you light up any place you step into. It’s a shame, really, because he is nothing like the sun- he is dark and reserved, but still, your light doesn’t blind him, it could never.

“Hi Theo.”, you wave as he passes by, in a much better mood than you were this morning and he waves back with a smile, taking longer strides to leave your eyesight and maybe hide in a broomcloset?

It was getting really late and you were still in the library studying. You had so much homework and revising to do, and at some point you needed to tutor third years and prepare for dueling battles. Everything was too much, and you had no one to help you. You didn’t know how to ask your friends for help, you’d spent the past six years being the responsible one- the mom friend, you had everything under control and cared for others. The roles couldn’t be reversed now. But, it made you feel so alone, the alienation adding another weight on your chest.

“Hey.”, you hear Theo’s voice, in a soft whisper and raise your head to look at him, his books are closed and stacked in front of him, signaling he is getting ready to leave.

You spent all afternoon studying together, and it had started fine- you felt productive for the first hour, but after a while, words had stopped making sense.

“It’s really late, do you want to leave the rest for tomorrow?”

“I have one chapter left, you don’t have to wait for me, g-goodnight.”, you dismiss him with a smile

But he doesn’t leave and you look at him with eyebrows raised high. 

“One chapter.”, he whispers innocently lightly holding his hands in front of him, before he opens up a book, pretending to study.

You scoff at that and lower your head once more, to the passage in front of you. Letters are dancing in the page taunting you- catch us, they say, try to make sense of this. You are tired and Theo looking at you, concerned, isn’t helping your brain focus. You wait five, maybe seven minutes before you let out a quiet groan and say, “Fine, lets go.”, meeting Theo and the stupid satisfied look on his face.

The way back to your dorm is quiet, you are both tired from schoolwork and the lack of sleep is another crack on the mask you wear near others. You bite down at your lip nervously, as you think all of the work you didn’t get done, and all the extra homework you’ll have to finish tomorrow. You think of your friends and the parties they are begging you to go to and the Hogsmeade outings you’ve missed due to being exhausted. You think of their grades and how easy it is for them to succeed, while you spend hours in the library and still fail. You think about the future and how you don’t know what you want it to look like, and you think about life and how small you seem compared to the world.

You don’t feel the tears that slide down your cheeks, or the water in your eyes- blocking your sight. You understand you’re crying, only when a sob escapes your mouth, one that has been begging to come out for the longest time. After that, it is inevitable for you to break down, not caring about Theo and what he’ll think of you, or about the prefects who’ll come running thinking there’s been an accident in the hallways. But he calls your name, and that ruins you even more.

“‘M sorry.”, you whine- crying and turn your body away from him, lowering yourself on the ground wishing you could disappear.

“What is it? Is it that stupid Potions chapter? I’ll help you with that, don’t cry over that.”, he says panicking, kneeling behind you.

“No, no, it’s not- it’s everything. It’s all too much.”

“What is?”, he asks calmly, placing a hand on your shoulder hesitantly- you don’t tense at his touch, your body relaxes and you turn around- your face wet and red staring at him.

“Everything; school, life, everything.”, you whimper, “I have so much to do, but I can’t- I can’t. And everyone expects me to have everything under control, but I don’t, and I can’t do it anymore.”, you exclaim placing your head in the palm of your hand.

“No one expects you to have everything under control, it’s- it’s impossible to do.”

“Yes, they do! If I am not there for everyone, if I let them see how lost I feel, they-”

“They'll what? Leave you?”, he asks shaking his head at what you’re saying

“No, yes, maybe, I don’t know. They won’t be able to handle it- I am sure.”

“Even if that were true.”, he says slowly, releasing your head from your hands, urging you to look at him, “If you can’t let your friends see, then you can show me. You can talk to me, don’t keep all that inside. There are enough self-sacrificing idiots in the Gryffindor Tower, we don’t need one more.”, he jokes and you let out a small laugh

“Why would you want to be bothered with my issues?”

“I- you, you don’t have to always be the person who cares for everyone, you can-should be the one cared for.”

“Why?”, you ask again, the air shifting between you into something different. Something that moves the pain from your chest and turns it into butterflies in your stomach.

“Ah- well-“, he let’s out a breath, “- because I- I like spending time with you, and I want to be there for you, besides, I can handle anything you shoot at me.”, he finishes; his face red and sweaty.

You have stopped crying now, your vision is still blurry and your breath uneven- but something inside you has changed. As if, a bright light has found it’s way inside, providing hope and something new- something you haven’t felt before, but desperately want to keep. 

“Thank you.”, you say softly and let him help you up, you two resuming your walk but with a different destination this time.

“Come.”, he says and offers his hand- which you gladly take, letting him guide you wherever.

You walk outside, and let the cool air hit you- ground you. It’s late at night, you are at Hogwarts, near the lake, you are at your 7th year and next to you, stands Theodore Nott, your study partner Theo. The Slytherin boy- that looks handsome but has no clue, the brilliant Theo, who always helps you out and is willing to listen. Theo, who is still holding your hand while pointing at stars and constellations with his other. Theo, who smells like pine and fireplace, as you lean against him and listen to his voice. Theo, who you can count on and thanks to whom you know it will be okay. Everything will be okay.

A/N: life will be okay with or without Theo Nott, you all deserve to be happy and loved, just needed to remind y'all :)

Theo taglist: @avalynlestrange @spacecadet16 @lucy-is-never-logical @aleviia @marina468 @annaisabookworm @liarajoah @notasadgirlipromise @pariseffer @unlikelysadgirl @ktz-bb @lizisthecoolest

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! Would you be able to do a hero x villain scene where the villain catches the hero doing something he's not supposed to and the villain uses that to blackmail the hero? I love your snippets, i could literally read them all day like a book lol

"Tsk. Tsk. What have we here?"

The hero froze. They ran through a million different versions of how screwed they were. Then, they swore quietly, and turned. "Is there any small chance that you're not going to make a big deal out of this?"

"You graffitiing the side of parliament? On-" The villain's gaze raked over the colours, the style, clearly matching it to the other acts of vandalism that had been making the news of late, "-multiple occasions." Their eyes it up. "Oh, they'll have your head, hero."

The hero's stomach sank. It wasn't even an exaggeration. "So no biggie. Right? You love a bit of chaos?"

The villain smiled. It was not a comforting smile.

The villain might appreciate chaos, but not so much as power.

The hero folded their arms across their hoodie, like that would somehow cover the bloody scrawl of 'inaction in the face of evil is evil, you bastards' behind them. It was complete with a rendition of the head minister's face with a moustache and devil horns and a list of the dead.

"Why are you even here?" they snapped.

"Consulting with him of the devil horns."

"Of course you bloody are."

The villain shrugged. "This administration is evil, as you say. It's very convenient. They're oh so eager to get me on board, yada yada."

"You in government?"

"Mm. It's horrifying, isn't it?"

Horrifying seemed like too mild a word. The villain was already powerful, with legal and official backing - however unjust - they would be unstoppable. Never mind that...

They were probably using the villain. Or, at least, trying to. The idiots didn't realise that the villain was a different sort of beast entirely; difficult to tame, malice not contained to cabinets and board rooms and cruel detachment. Or, maybe, they knew but were simply too greedy for what the villain could give them.

There was no way it would end well either way.

And now...

The villain's smile broadened, at the hero's expression.

"Relax, hero," the villain said. "I won't tell anyone."

"...you won't?"

"Not if you do a little something for me."

The hero stared at the villain, flat.

"Oh, come now," the villain purred. "I'm being nice."

"By blackmailing me?"

"By giving you a chance to avoid being executed on the front steps. By not instantly taking away the last hope that all these poor..." The villain swept forward, "downtrodden," they captured the hero's chin, "peasants have."

Their eyes met. The hero swallowed.

It didn't need saying that the villain could. Which meant that whatever they were after must be awful, for them to give up the chance of their ultimate victory, of the chance to get rid of the hero forever.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I have no doubt you're aware of the dance tomorrow."

"The one that costs an obscene amount of money that could be used on public infrastructure or the welfare of people who live here."

"That's the one," the villain cooed. "Come with me."

"Excuse me?"

"Come with me to the dance."

"As your accomplice to what?" The hero's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to kill them all, are you?"

"As my date."

The villain dropped their chin.

There was a long pause. The villain was implacable. The hero was having some sort of internal seizure. Emotional whiplash. Possibly an existential crisis.

"...you're blackmailing me to be your date."

"Astute observation."

"I notice you didn't say you weren't going to kill them all."

"I notice you didn't say no."

"Well," the hero huffed, face hot. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"I was half-expecting an 'I'd rather die', I'll admit."

"I mean, it was a close shout. It is..." They looked the villain up and down, then quickly looked away from the disgustingly perfect body. "You."

The villain smiled again. Wild. Savage. No politician's curve of the lips.

The hero wet their dry lips, resisting the urge to clear their throat. "And if I do this...you won't tell anyone about..." They waved a hand at the wall. "I have your word?"

For what is was worth, and the hero had never expected it to be worth quite so much, the villain always kept their word. Unlike some people.

"You have my word."

The hero felt dizzy as the adrenaline in them bottomed out. Shaky. They realised abruptly how clammy their hands were around the cans.

It still seemed too easy. The villain could have finished them. It was a stupid, ridiculous thing to be murdered for...but exactly the kind of thing the current administration didn't tolerate. That along with free speech, empathy and the other hallmarks of a caring society.

The villain turned to look at the vandalism, attention roaming over the names, the words. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking.

"Go on then," the villain murmured. "Finish up."

"You're going to watch?"

The villain didn't deign that with a response. The hero tried - and failed - not to feel self conscious as they got back to work. They'd, for obvious reasons, never had an audience before.

After what it had cost, though, they couldn't leave the job half done.

They felt the villain's eyes on them the whole time, intent and electric. It made the hero feel like they were stripping.

By the time they were done, the hero's hand was shaking.

"Very good." They felt the villain's chest pressed against their back, their breath against the hero's ear. "Remember to wear something pretty for me."

Then, they were gone.

The hero had to get out of there.

[monthly-raining]

characters as adults

i sometimes throw up in my mouth thinking about my old art style im so much happier and expressive except i havent figured out how to add color lmaooooo

im thinking these are everyone in their early 30s

i think sophie would become a keeper... bc its literally in the series title... maybe emissary too? anyway i dont think shed be the happiest in her position but i think when she grows up she'll start to resemble oralie a lot. maybe some people will put two and two together but this might be eons after oralie resigns from the council and it becomes a little irrelevant at that point

sophie WILL go bald at a certain point when she has the biggest existential crisis

i dont know how to draw dex in general because i just dont have a clear image of who he is this late into the series... bc its been such a long time since book 9 and i havent preordered 9.5 yet

i think he might actually be the most successful out of everyone bc everyone seems to agree that he's a very talented technopath and he worked with the council when he was only a level three??? even if it was making sophie's circlet???? very impressive accepted into harvard 10/10

i love drawing biana shes just ugh. very gorgeous. cant tell if she'll live a celebrity life in the elven world or shed just mysteriously disappear for the longest time and have everyone speculate on what happened to the youngest vacker and she just comes back with like a billion luster book deal to write an autobiography of what she was up to and its basically her freaking out over the ugliest fashion trends ("i leave for three centuries and you guys make THIS a trending item of clothing????") bc biana will always stay biana

linh will cut her hair along with the silver tips. still do not know how the silver tip works. i love drawing her moles, i feel she just has to have a lot of them around her face. she volunteers for animal rehabilitation. she gives free seminars for young hydrokinetics to teach them how to control their abilities. what a woman

im the iffiest with his rendition but he probably grew out the silver tips with his sister and he toggles between keeping his bangs out of his face and keeping it down

weirdly, i think hed be a teacher of some sorts. maybe tutor for 5-10 year olds? i feel like hed be good with small kids

they get their ears pierced together. keefe's a little sadder as an adult. he also grew out his hair

fitz hasn't changed his style much

not sure why keefe is sad. i feel like the older he got in the series, the more sadder he got. it makes sense-- id be sad too. later on, he'll be happy again but i think seeing how long an elven lifespan is theyre probably still considered babies. he has time to figure it out

it'd be really nice if fitz became an author or journalist. i think alden should quit his job as emissary and write an autobiography. i think all the vackers should start journaling and not join evil organizations as a mode of therapy.

[jq37]

Just to throw my two cents on the Rat Grinder discourse: They weren't worth the Intrepid Heroes' time. We didn't get the full picture of what's going on with the Grinders until the last quarter of the season. Before that they were just this other clique that hate the main characters, so in-character why would the Bad Kids bother giving them so much attention when they've got so much of their own crap going on. Kristens quest to get Cassandra back and her presidential campaign, Gorgugs courseload, Riz's million and one plates that he's been spinning all season, Adaines financial problems, Figs curse and her doubts about what she wants to do with her life. Fabian's the only one who might have had the time, but he had to be Maximum Legend. There genuinely was no time or even an incentive on the IH's side to develop the Rat Grinders characters.

I still think it's fucked up that these teenagers got taken advantage of by adults they trusted, but we didn't learn any of that until we only had two roleplay episodes left. Too little too late to even try anything diplomatic even if they didn't spend all their time after the Last Stand in hiding.

And a thing about Ivy that no one is roasting her about and really should: An elven archer? Really? Wow, never seen that before.

Yeah totally. Like, from a meta level, I see where the players themselves could have been more curious about the Rat Grinders. There are obvious plot threads that could have been teased out there (though, in fairness to the cast, the adult manipulation aspect didn't become clear until way later in the season--the rivalry and foil aspects were more obvious). This final confrontation could look really different if they'd played that all the way out all season.

But in character? The Bad Kids really didn't have a good reason to waste time on the Rat Grinders. They came into this school year already burnt out from their Night Yorb quest and wanting a break. But they don't get that because they immediately are beset by problems they have to deal with--Kristen's god is on death's door from neglect and she's on the brink of expulsion, Riz is running himself ragged trying to boost his resume for college, Fig is having a whole ass existential crisis, Adaine is struggling with money issues she doesn't want to talk about, Gorgug is taking FOUR YEARS of school at the same time, and Fabian is multiclassing and dealing with his empty house/not having parental support (or Cathilda's support) for the first time. They are dealing with SO MUCH high stakes, personal stuff before the plot even kicks in. And, mechanics-wise, this is represented with the downtime system that means that any time they spend on the RG's is time they can't spend on something that matters more to them. IMO, not prioritizing your haters is actually pretty mature. Like, they weren't proactively using their free time to bully them or anything (except for arguably Fig). They were snippy with them when they crossed their paths and that was it. As opposed to the Rat Grinders who literally had to be told by Jace to stop antagonizing the Bad Kids (though they must have been pretty ineffectual at it because the Bad Kids hardly noticed, which I bet stung considering they were so obsessed).

And also, it's not like they didn't try at all with the Rat Grinders. Early Insight checks on Kipperlilly just got, "This is a polished steel orb of a personality" which doesn't sound very worth interacting with in a sympathetic way if at all and then the next big thing they learn is that she had hated Riz since Freshman Year and that she wants Riz and Kristen dead. And that's AFTER we saw her smile and kill her party cleric. In their position I'm not spending further time trying to empathize with this person, I have made my judgement and it's up to the Jawbones of the world to find if there's something in there to be rehabilitated.

And that's not the only case. Adaine straight up saved Ruben from disintegration during the Frosty Folk battle when she easily could have saved the spell slot, but that didn't soften him towards the Bad Kids any. Adaine also was really keen to Scry on the Rat Grinders to find out what was happening at their meetings. But, in scene at least, she was never able to do that so we never got a scene of them, huddled together, clearly unsure about the path they're on but not feeling like they can walk it back or say no to the authority figures in their lives. She didn't get anything humanizing that would cause her to rethink their position on them the way that she did with Aelwyn for instance. So why would they think they're anything but gleeful co-conspirators?

Hell, the one RG Adaine was even slightly curious about was Oisin and now we know that he was feigning interest in her which, man, can you imagine how much worse that would have felt if she'd actually taken the bait and pursued him beyond just thinking he was cute? Of course, it's possible that her interacting with him more along with some good charm rolls could have changed the narrative in some way but we can only go off of what we know to be true in canon and those facts are (1) He tried to get closer to Adaine while actively planning the downfall of her and her friends, (2) he (along with Ivy) was mean to Buddy behind his back while tricking him into a plan that would force him to go against his religious beliefs, and (3) he called his KVX related dragon ancestors to try to kill the Bad Kids and endanger the entire student body population. Three strikes, you're out. If I'm a Bad Kid I'm not super interested in whatever else is going on with him. And again, literally all of Adaine's friends (except Riz) gave her help to do an Insight check on him during their confrontation in the hallway so she was looking for something there worth engaging with, but she didn't get much.

Fig was fully doing CIA, MKUltra, Fantasy Geneva Convention violations on Ruben to try see if she could get information or flip him. I think she did it in an objectively insane way so I'm not entirely shocked that it didn't yield the exact results she was looking for. But she never found the smoking gun (or whatever the opposite of that is) in his head that would absolve him/show the Rat Grinders were being controlled and her messing with his dreams never flared his conscience enough to make him try to break free (as far as we know) which is what I assume she was going for. If I was Ruben looking for a way out but scared of the repercussions, I might go to Adaine who saved me from certain death earlier the same year and has helped saved the world 3 times with her party and their friends in high (and low) places. Maybe that's what Fig thought might happen but it didn't so from Fig's POV? Gave him a chance. Time to start blasting. And again, at that age, if I walked in to the first day of class and the first thing this random boy does is sneer at me and flaunt his musical success, I'm popping up on his Nemesis Alert at that moment. Doubly so after he tries to trick me and my friends into doing drugs so we get expelled. I'm surprised she tried at all with him.

Fabian absolutely tried to interact with Ivy--in large part for self interested reasons of course, but that doesn't change that he did it. And she came across as callous and unkind from the jump. Their final conversation before the latest episode is the one where she talks about wearing Mazey like a sweater and then says that Fabian missed his chance with her before stalking off. That's a pretty open and shut interaction. No way 17 year old me is like, "Hmm, but why is she acting so mean? Perhaps I should examine that more closely to further understand her." Nah, I've decided she sucks.

And Kristen has tried with Buddy literally up until the last moment. She rolled an Insight check on him right before the fight started and she got a 1. She got nothing from him.

Mary Ann is actually the only Rat Grinder who hasn't done anything to make a bad impression on the Bad Kids--the only thing she did was have a really good Bloodrush tryout. So no reason to hate her specifically (and, in fact, she is also the only Rat Grinder that at least half of them are positively obsessed with), but no reason to explore her further. And Kristen still tried giving her a stuffed animal and her response was that she already had that one and that she was going to give it away. What are they supposed to do with that?

Even when they tried, they didn't get information that was worth chasing when they were so busy and had to manage their free time. Gorgug didn't even slot in downtime to talk to his bio parents when they visited. Why would he spend any time on Mary Ann to figure out her deal? Maybe if they were given more explicit opportunities to interact with them in passing. If Mary Ann was shown at Bloodrush Games. If during class time Oisin tried to interact with Adaine. If Kristen ran into Buddy and Bucky talking. If any of their forays into talking to them or looking into them yielded anything actionable or that piqued their interest--they opened the door for Brennan to give them something more than once. But they never got anything that was worth investing more of their limited time into.

(And also, they didn't learn that Porter was involved until WAY into the last quarter of the episodes. Which absolutely could have changed things since, as far as they knew the RG's were working alone to raise this god which isn't crazy for them to think because Kristen literally did that last year and it was of her own free will. If they knew early that the RG's were smaller players in Porter's plot then maybe they would have been in more of a rescue mindset--especially since Fig has always mistrusted him--but that's not information they had and by the time they got it, the RG's were in deep hiding, like you said.)

And so, coming into the last few episodes, that's who the Rat Grinders are to the Bad Kids. A group of kids who they first heard about in the context of, "they famously hate you," even though they'd never interacted before. A group of kids who they already thought sucked even before they tried to kill the entire study body an hour ago. A group of kids who are trying to doom all of Elmville to eternal rage and who are willing and ready to kill them to do it.

With that context, yeah I think their actions are pretty understandable.

(Also, lmao. Yeah, I think calling Ivy basic would probably hurt her more than most things you could say to her.)

[casuallyimagining]

Two Hours || myg

otter hybrid yoongi x female reader

Summary: Your neighbor invites you to a work picnic that he's nervous to attend. You promise to only stay for two hours. Word Count: 2,870 Genre: slice of life, fake dating, friends to ???, fluff Warnings: none

Notes: Thank you to @park-jimin-isnt-real for the moodboard above, and to @rec-me-bts for the moodboard below that I used in the teaser. I had so much trouble deciding which one to use where. Also many many thanks to @oddinary4bts and @madbutgloriouspond for beta-ing this for me and for their endless sympathies while I basically had an existential crisis in their dms. Thank you for not telling me I am annoying 💙

The elevator dings and you step onto your floor. Your arm stings from carrying the grocery bags from the garage–they aren’t particularly full, but it’s just heavy enough and just long enough to get your out of shape muscles angry at you. The closer you get to your apartment, the more you notice a banging noise. And when you finally round the corner, you see its source.

Your across-the-hall neighbor, Yoongi, stands outside of his own apartment rattling his door angrily.

“Stuck again?” you ask, fishing out your keys with your free hand.

Yoongi grunts, the small ears on the top of his head pressing into his hair in frustration. Silently, he takes the bags out of your hand while you open your door. 

“You should call the landlord again,” you tell him. He follows you inside as if it’s natural. Which, really, it is. This is the fourth time this month his door has jammed, effectively locking him out of his home until a locksmith showed up.

“I’d fix it myself if he’d let me.” He sets the bags on your counter and starts to hand you items. Strawberries, a bottle of coffee creamer, cucumbers and celery. He picks up a box of frozen fish sticks and flips it around to read. “You know this stuff is garbage, right?”

You ignore his commentary on your groceries. “You know Krolmeir’s never going to let you fix it. He’d have to lower your rent.”

He hums, and you can hear the underlying ‘jackass’ in the tone. 

“Do you want me to call him?” you asked. Krolmeir–your landlord–likes you way more than he seems to like Yoongi. You’re almost positive you can guess why. But you aren’t afraid to use his skeeviness to your advantage.

“I called him just before you showed up.”

“And he said…?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Yoongi imitates Krolmeir’s voice–a high-pitched nasally whine more than anything. He rolls his eyes. “So he’ll be here sometime between five minutes from now and next Tuesday.”

You hum sympathetically. “Hang out here until he comes? I’ll make dinner.”

“Are you making fish sticks?”

“Thought about it.” His face scrunches up in disgust, a massive frown parts his lips, revealing his longer than human canine teeth. You laugh and roll your eyes. “I was actually just going to order something. Want to get sushi?”

His eyes light up, but when he speaks, his tone doesn’t match how excited he looks. “Whatever you want to do. I’m the one crashing your evening.”

You wave him off. He should know by now that he’s not imposing. You’ve been neighbors for a few years now. You’d started off just going grocery shopping together–it’s easier to carry groceries when there are two of you–and quickly progressed to taking refuge in each other’s apartments when something went wrong in your own. First, it had been your air conditioning crapping out that had driven you to Yoongi’s apartment to avoid the late-summer heat. Then, his oven stopped working, and he’d hidden in your living room while the landlord and the handyman made the repairs. Back and forth until a friendship had formed.

The sushi arrives and you settle in together on your couch. You prop your door open so that you can hear if the landlord arrives. He takes two bites of his sashimi before Yoongi hums urgently, causing you to pause the show you’d turned on for background noise.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “So we’re having a potluck picnic thing at work, and someone decided it would be a great idea to make it mandatory.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. But I get a plus one, so I was wondering if maybe you’d go with me? Make it a little more tolerable?”

“You want me to go to your dumb company picnic with you?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Nervously, he pokes at a grain of rice that had fallen off one of his nigiri.

“Sounds like it’s going to be not a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.”

You shrug. “I’m in.”

Yoongi is a ball of nerves as you shift into park. You’re definitely not the first ones here–there’s like ten other cars in the gravel lot, and you can see a large-ish group of people milling about the pavilion just up the hill. He alternates between patting his thigh and picking at the skin around his thumbnail. His ears press into his hair so far you can’t even see them. You know he doesn’t care for his coworkers, but you didn’t know it was this bad. Maybe it’s the crowd, or the fact that so many of his coworkers will be here. You aren’t sure, but you don’t like how affected he is.

You reach over and gently cover his hands with your own. He freezes. “Let’s make a game plan,” you say softly. He hums. “We’ll stay for how long? Two hours? An hour and a half?”

“Two I think. Since it’s mandatory.”

You nod. “Stay for two hours. We’ll talk to people, but if it starts to be too much, let me know.” 

For a moment, he’s quiet. But then, he nods. “Let’s do this.”

You carry the dessert Yoongi made–partially because you’re a little worried he might drop it from nerves–and he sticks by your side. He’s got one hand in his pocket, but he’s so close that the other brushes against you every few steps.

The closer you get, the more the people in the pavilion notice you. You watch as one by one, then a few at a time, they watch you approach. And suddenly, you understand why Yoongi’s uncomfortable. Eventually, someone comes scuttling toward you.

“Hi Yoongi!” she calls, waving enthusiastically as she approaches.

“Oh. Hey Liz.” He presses closer. “We uh… we brought tiramisu.”

The woman–Liz–takes the container out of your hands. You make a small noise of protest, but she’s already gone, back up the hill to the pavilion and everyone else.

“Yoongi and his girlfriend brought dessert,” you hear her announce.

“Oh, tiramisu? Nice!” someone else–you can’t see who–says.

“No way. I thought he was going to bring something fishy.” Someone else, you can see them and you make a note that you hate them, laughs. A few others chuckle, too, and you also hate them.

They’re still laughing when you get to the pavilion. You’re introduced to each of them by finding out what they brought, and honestly, you don’t remember most of their names. It’s David that made the comment about the fish, so you’re sure to memorize his name so you can hate him fully. David’s dating Yoongi’s manager, Marcus, who apparently brought chicken that is very good. There’s Alison, who brought naan, and Rabia who brought chutney to go with it. And Donghyun brought some sort of seven layer dip.

For the most part, none of them talk to you. It quickly becomes clear that these people aren’t friends. Certainly, they aren’t friends with Yoongi, but they aren’t friends at all. They talk to each other, but it’s clear that this is just another mandatory work thing for them, and they don’t want to be here. You’re honestly a little glad that they leave you alone. None of them seem particularly nice. Or interesting.

So you grab food. And you sit together at a table far away from where the rest of the group is lingering.

“One hour, 45 minutes to go,” Yoongi mumbles, and you snort in laughter, almost choking on the naan you’d just taken a bite of.

“Maybe it won’t be so-”

“Mind if I sit?” You’re interrupted by a bright voice, and when you look, Liz is standing beside Yoongi, holding a plate of food.

You look to Yoongi and he makes a face that says he really doesn’t want her to sit with you. But he says nothing, simply gestures to the other side of the table. Which, of course, she takes as an invitation to sit right beside him. He practically squeaks in distress and scoots slightly over so that there’s a bit of space between them.

“I have to be honest,” Liz begins, oblivious. “No one really expected you to bring anyone. We kind of all just assumed you were single, you know?” He hums, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge what she’s saying. Briefly, you consider correcting her–you aren’t dating–but she continues before you can even consider a polite way to address the situation. “How long have you known each other? How’d you meet?”

“Years.” He doesn’t even look at her to answer her, his focus on pushing his food around on his plate. His current victim is the seven layer dip he’s stabbing with a tortilla chip.

“We’re neighbors,” you add, hoping that maybe if you answer her questions, she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

Liz nods enthusiastically. “That’s so cute! You guys are cute.”

“I’m going to grab a drink,” Yoongi announces suddenly, standing up. “Do you want anything?”

“Surprise me.”

He nods and leaves you alone with Liz. “I’m serious,” she laughs. “When we were all told we could bring a plus-one, I don’t think anyone expected Yoongi to bring someone. He’s usually so quiet around everyone at work.”

You’ve lost patience with her quickly. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but every time she opens her mouth to speak, it grates on your nerves. “Sometimes, he only talks when he thinks it’s worth his time.” You shrug and make eye contact with her. 

Her smile falters very briefly, but then she recovers and it’s like nothing changed. “He talks to me, though,” she continues, as if you’d said nothing. “Mostly about new album releases and stuff.” You work at a music store, you think. But you let her keep talking. “He knows so much about music. He played the piano for me once.”

You hum and say nothing, craning your neck so you can look around her to see where Yoongi’s gotten to. He’s at the end of the pavilion, distracted by Marcus, his manager.

“He’s really good,” Liz gushes. “Like, really good. He used to want to be a music teacher–did you know that? He told me-”

You tune her out. Of course, you know that he plays the piano. You’ve seen the brown upright that sits in his living room, never dusty because he plays it too much. You often hear the soft melodies that travel through the walls at night when he can’t sleep. He’d even told you about wanting to be a music teacher–a long-dead dream that he’d abandoned in his early 20s. You wish he hadn’t, he had the patience of a saint and he was one of the smartest people you knew. But you also understand how needlessly cruel the world can be sometimes.

Finally, Yoongi returns, balancing a plate and two bottles of beer. He sits one of the bottles in front of you and, with a flourish, places the plate between you. “Someone made hotteok,” he says gleefully, nudging a pancake in your direction. “They aren’t hot, but Marcus said they were really good.”

He picks one up, gives it a satisfied pat. A wide, gummy smile spreads across his lips and his eyes crinkle in delight. He pats the pancake again a few more times, before nudging the plate toward you. It’s got one more hotteok on it, and a scoop of the tiramisu trifle Yoongi’d made. 

Liz makes a noise of annoyance, and the look on her face says that she’s not happy she’s being ignored. But she plasters on a smile when Yoongi looks over at her.

“Oh. Liz,” he says softly, one hand still gently patting his hotteok. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

Her face falls. “I was just leaving.”

She leaves her plate behind.

He watches after her, eyes wide as she goes to join the group currently surrounding a bluetooth speaker. It’s blasting some sort of 90s pop song–you assume they’ve got a playlist going on someone’s phone. 

“That was weird,” Yoongi says finally. “She’s normally really nice.”

You hum and lie. “Maybe she’s having a bad day.”

And as tactless as you think Liz is, you want to believe that’s true. You’ve heard plenty of stories of her, how she’s the only coworker that Yoongi actually likes, how she’s nice to him, how she actually seems to be interested in what he has to say. You don’t trust her, but you hope for Yoongi’s sake that she’s just off her game today. 

Maybe if he clarified that you weren’t dating, it would help.

He doesn’t make any effort to do that, though, not even when Rabia brings around a QR code for you to scan to add songs to the playlist they’ve got going.

“Thought maybe you and your girlfriend would want to add some songs,” she says, offering a small smile. She waits patiently while Yoongi scans the code on her phone, and then she disappears again, back to the group over by the speaker.

“She seems nice,” you say, watching as he types into his phone and picks a couple songs.

Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve met her like twice? She works nights.”

After a second, he hands you his phone, open to some music website you’ve never heard of. You carefully consider what you might want to add. The site doesn’t let you see what else is in the playlist, so you aren’t sure what songs Yoongi picked, let alone what the others have queued up. But you pick two of your favorites that you think would be fun and hand him his phone back.

Apparently, the playlist is on shuffle, because a few songs later, you recognize the opening beats of one of the songs you chose. Immediately, Yoongi perks up, his little ears on alert as he listens. It takes all of about three seconds for him to break into a grin. 

He’d introduced you to this band back when you first started grocery shopping together. You were driving, he was playing music on his phone. They were his favorite, a small hip-hop group made up of three dog hybrids. It wasn’t common for hybrids to make it in really any industry, so the fact that these guys did and their music was good? You couldn’t deny they had quickly become some of your favorite artists, too.

He sways a little with the music, his eyes closed. He looks content. You smile watching him, rest your chin on his hands. You’re happy you came, you determine.

Two hours fly faster than you thought they would. And when you point out that you’ve hit your promised limit and ask if Yoongi’s ready to go, he immediately nods. So you stand, say your goodbyes. His coworkers make a big deal of you leaving so soon. Liz tries to hug Yoongi before you leave, but he dodges her by grabbing another hotteok–though whether it was a purposeful deflection or just a happy accident, you aren’t sure.

He barely speaks until you’re in the car and halfway back to your apartment building. He shifts around in his seat, digging around in his pocket. He pulls out a rock–his favorite rock, you note–and rolls it around in his hand.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “For coming with me. I uh… I’m sorry I didn’t tell them we weren’t dating.”

You frown, and when you slow to a stop at the next redlight, you turn to look at him. “You don’t have to apologize for that. If it made the situation even a little easier, it’s totally fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, when am I going to see these people again?” The light turns green and you hit the gas. “Let them think whatever they want. You wanna come back in eight months and tell them we’re married? Go for it.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

He nods. “I appreciate it.”

The car falls silent, the only sounds coming from the radio–Yoongi’s phone connected to the aux cord. He continues to toy with the rock, rubbing it between his fingers and tapping it against the armrest on the door. It takes only minutes to pull into the garage under your building, and even less to find a spot.

While you’re waiting for the elevator to return to the garage, he says your name so softly, you almost don’t hear it over the whirring of the cables and machinery.

“Here,” he says, reaching out and grabbing your hand. Carefully, he presses his rock into your palm.

You look at him, confused. “Yoongi, I…” He loves this rock. He’d never said exactly where he found it, but it’s a little round and very smooth, and you’ve seen him pat his pockets down on numerous occasions to make sure he has it with him.

“Take it. Please. I… As a thank you.” He doesn’t look at you, his face flushed a shade of light pink.

You nod and close your fingers around the rock. You’ll have to find somewhere nice to put it. And maybe, someday, you can find him a new one to replace it.

I'd love to know what you thought! I had been considering making this longer, but I thought leaving it open might be a little more fun. if you're interested, I may do a part two later? idk let me know if you're feeling a part two. thank you again to yav and jay for the moodboards. they're both so pretty.

[callsign-venus]

For the Love of Love | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader | Part I

Summary: You are dreading your grandparents' 60th anniversary. While you love them, along with the rest of your family, you're tired of being "the single one." So when your friend Bradley Bradshaw offers to accompany you to your grandparents' Tahoe cabin for the long weekend, your tipsy self agrees. The problem? Only that you're hopelessly in love with him.

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, fake dating, reader is supposed to be young, so age gap?

a/n: this is my first series, yay! Let me know if you'd like to join the taglist! I hope y'all enjoy x

The night before you were expected – along with the rest of your family – at your grandparents’ Tahoe cabin, you called up your childhood best friend to help you drown your sorrows at the Hard Deck. The air in the bar was dense with a steady throb of ‘80s music and the slur of dozens of drunken conversations. There were so many people that, even though you immediately shed your jacket, a bead of sweat rolled down your back before you even reached the bar. Still, the Hard Deck was like a second home to you, and its chaos enveloped you with all the warmth of a hug from a friend who was a little more drunk than they’d admit.

Nat was already at the bar. She had a beer in one hand, another waiting for you in front of the empty barstool next to her. You smiled. She must have put up quite a fight to keep that seat for you on such a busy night.

You hopped up on the barstool and snagged your beer, relishing in its coolness more than its taste. How long until Nat gave up on trying to get you to like IPAs? At least this one was potable, unlike the last one she tried to get you to drink.

“You’re late,” she said.

“Sorry, I was packing.” You had to yell over the clash of noise between you. “Do you know how hard it is to pack winter clothes? I have, like, three suitcases. Full.”

Nat laughed. “Excited much?”

You slammed your bottle of beer down on the counter like an inebriated judge making a ruling. “I’m actually not going to go.”

“To your grandparents’ 60th anniversary?” Nat arched her brows.

“Yes. Think about it.” You sat up straighter. “I’m alone with my family in the mountains. I’m the only grandchild not in a relationship. We’re all there to celebrate love. My grandma tells me fourteen times that she had two kids by my age. Auntie Marnie will get wine drunk and ask why I’m not dating anyone when I’m such a catch. All the cousins will bring their partners and they’ll hold hands and make googly eyes at each other and kiss each other in the kitchen. Everyone will be so in love, and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And I can’t even bring you with me because you’re working. Ugh, this is going to suck.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Nat took a swig of her beer.

“Didn’t I tell you about Sabrine’s wedding?” You knew you had. Your cousin’s wedding was sweet and intimate, and of course you were happy for her and Matt. But there were moments that sent you teetering toward something akin to an existential crisis. And the constant comments from your aunts, the snide remarks from your brother, and the oppressive sense of love in the air definitely did not help. Slightly buzzed in your aunt’s backyard the night before the ceremony, watching everyone declare their love in a thousand small ways (an easy brush of the hands, a fork of pasta held up like an offering, a future planned by spoken word), you couldn’t help but draw up your feet and stare at the stars like they had an answer for you.

Nat shrugged this off. “Then bring a date. There’s plenty of eligible bachelors in this bar right now.”

As if her words were a spell, a seaman tapped on her shoulder. Nat was in civilian clothes, so her high rank wasn’t visible to ward him off like on most other nights. She snapped around. Her teeth must have been barred because she sent him skittering into the crowd in record time.

“Oh yeah,” you sipped your drink, “plenty of eligible bachelors.”

“Shut up. I’m not the one leaving on a flight tomorrow morning, desperately lonely, heading for a fate as terrible as celebrating love.”

“Who’s celebrating love?” Jake appeared like a demon summoned straight from hell.

When Nat first introduced you to the Daggers, they had all been intimidating. But only Hangman had you on edge. You’d softened up to the guy in the years since, but you didn’t need him knowing about how “desperately lonely” you were. In fact, there was only one man in the world who you wanted to see less than Jake in that moment. And if Jake was there, it was only a matter of time before he was, too.

Nat tipped her beer toward you. “She doesn’t want to be the only single person at her grandparents’ 60th wedding anniversary this weekend.”

God. There he was. Popped up right as you expected – and dreaded. His loud Hawaiin shirt poorly concealed his heavily muscled arms. His aviators hung off his undershirt, and they rattled against his chest as he laughed at your predicament. You couldn’t even look at his face.

“I just know my family’s going to give me a hard time,” you said in panicked defense. “Even if they don’t mean to.”

Bradley draped an arm over your shoulder. He’d done it so countless times in knowing you, like it never fazed him. It probably didn’t. He did it to Hangman and Phoenix and Bob, too. However, you had never gotten used to the feel of his skin against your own. Your face got hot, and you hoped he couldn’t feel the sweat spreading under your shirt

He brought his mouth close to your ear to ensure you heard him over the ruckus of the bar. “Whatever your family says about you, just know that they’re right.”

You wriggled out from under his arm, and he doubled over laughing. So did Hangman and Phoenix.

“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Nat said after collecting herself.

You rolled your eyes. He was already under your skin. Had been from the moment you first laid eyes on him. Spread like an itch that was always there, but one you could never scratch.

“C’mon, let’s play some pool.” Jake vanished into the crowd, knowing the three of you would follow.

You had never been so thankful to be around the pool table, even though some nights you dreaded it. Every one of the Daggers could outplay you in pool; you always felt bad for whoever was unlucky enough to be your partner. And normally, you felt a little awkward when the conversation turned to work. Fighter jets and naval bureaucracy were not things you were well versed in, but that night, you were grateful for the work conversation to overshadow the conversation about your lack of a love life.

Unfortunately, when you and Nat were down three-nothing, somehow your love life took center stage again.

Jake sank the cue ball – such a rare occurrence the four of you stood still against the wave of bar patrons for a solid five seconds before you and Nat cheered.

“Nice going, Seresin.” Nat patted you on the shoulder. “Set her up real nice.”

Jake scoffed.

Bradley winked at you as you set the cue ball on the table. He mouthed good luck, and you – along with your chances of winning – were a goner.

You had a perfect opportunity to sink the ruby red 7 ball. You lined up your shot, pulled back on your cue stick, took a shallow breath – that did not calm your nerves – and completely missed. The cue ball jumped around the table, smacking into solids and stripes alike. Everyone leaned in as it collided with the 8 ball, sending it hurtling toward the corner. By some small miracle, it missed the pocket by a breath. Both the 8 and cue balls rolled to an unceremonious stop.

“Well, that could have been worse.” Nat sounded like she was trying to reassure herself.

“Jesus,” Jake said. “No need to worry about your boy troubles if this is how you play pool after two years of practice with the best.”

Your cheeks warmed. Usually, you could at least hold your own. Your partner would have to do a lot of heavy lifting, but they could count on you to sink a few balls. At the very least, they could count on you not to do whatever the hell that just was. You could feel everyone staring, Jake’s mishap long forgotten. You could especially feel Bradley’s gaze on you. It was hotter in the bar than when you first arrived. You crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing a thumb against the sticky skin of your upper arm.

“Don’t you think she should just bring a date to the anniversary?” Nat asked the two other aviators as Bradley lined up his shot. “That would keep her family off her back.”

You dug your nails into your skin to keep from lunging at her over the pool table.

Hangman grinned, his teeth flashing against the neon lights. “Sure. Any luck with those dating apps?”

“Ha ha,” you said. “It’s no use. Besides the fact that they suck ass, my plane leaves at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”

Bradley sank two stripes in one shot. Before taking another, he gestured around the bar. “And these fine men don’t meet your standards? They are members of the American Armed Forces, after all.”

“I’m not taking a stranger on my grandparent’s 60th anniversary trip, thank you.”

Bradley shrugged. He missed the 15 ball.

Nat leaned over to take her shot. She looked up at the boys, flashed a smile at you, then said, “What if she took one of the Dagger boys?”

Your hands flew to the edge of the pool table for support, otherwise, you might have gone down.

“What, should she take Bob?” Jake’s voice was laced with alcohol and utter delight in your misery. “He’d have a heart attack trying to keep up a ruse like that.”

Jake and Bradley shared a good laugh, only to be quieted when Nat went on a run and sank four solids before finally missing.

She straightened and used her cue stick to point at them. “Y’know, I was kind thinking about one of you two.”

Your blood just about froze solid in your veins. What the hell was Nat thinking? You’d rather die than spend a long weekend at Jake’s side – you just couldn’t bear a constant barrage of snarky comments and showboating. And you’d actually rather die than have Bradley at your side, touching you in his casual way, his shit-eating grin dawning under his mustache, and god forbid his winking.

Jake smirked. “Surely there are easier ways to ask us out.”

“Yeah, we don’t bite.” Bradley laughed. “Before I consider the offer, how nice is this cabin?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I’m dying to go out with the both of you. How could you see right through me?”

You prayed that no one could see right through you. Especially as your heart rate quickened when Bradley’s gaze settled on you, clouded with thought.

“Assholes,” Nat grumbled as Jake sank the rest of the stripes and the 8 ball in three easy shots. You two were down four-nothing.

Your night of drinking with Nat was ruined. You half-hoped Bob would pop up, offer to be your date, and whisk you away for a respectful and very platonic weekend. Your heart sank like the 8 ball when you remembered he was deployed for three months somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

Reality settled in and you figured you might as well get a good night’s sleep before braving the cold mountains and your family.

“I think I’m gonna head home.” You hugged Nat. “Sorry for being a shitty pool partner.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less of you.” She dropped her voice and whispered in your ear. “Sorry for pimping you out like that.”

You shook your head. As much as you had wanted the ground to swallow you, you appreciated her efforts to make your weekend less miserable. Even if she was a little out of line.

You said goodbye to the boys, gathered your purse and your jacket, and left. The noise of the bar melted into the cool, quiet night. You pulled out your phone and ordered yourself an Uber. A slight breeze chased away the sheen of sweat on your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment’s respite under the moonlight.

“Hey.”

You spun around. Bradley was standing there, his hands in his pockets.

“Hey.” Your voice was a little too loud. You’d been yelling all night over the noise of the bar, after all. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I just wanted to say sorry.” He smiled. “For teasing you about the whole no date thing.”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” Goosebumps raised on your arms.

“Y’know, I’ve never been to Tahoe.”

“Oh really?” You started to struggle on your jacket to fight the chill. Bradley held a hand out, and you gave him your purse so you could slip your jacket on easier. “Thanks. You’ve never been to Tahoe?”

“Nope.” He handed your purse back.

“Thanks,” you said again. “That’s a bummer. It’s beautiful, especially at this time of the year. A late snowstorm just rolled through, it should be a winter wonderland up there.”

“Well,” he took a step closer to you. “I was thinking. I’ve never been to Tahoe, you still need a date, I enjoy your company…”

You swallowed hard. Were you dreaming? “Bradley, my flight leaves early tomorrow.”

“So? I’ve got leave. I’m used to early mornings.” His smile was nearly blinding in the full moonlight.

“Did Nat put you up to this?” You tried to catch a glance of her through the large windows, but the Hard Deck was just too packed.

“A little. But to be honest, I didn’t need a lot of convincing. I think it could be fun.”

You fiddled with a button of your jacket, unable to look at him. Before you could think of an excuse to reject his offer, you blurted, “Pick me up from my place?”

“Of course. That’s what a good boyfriend does.” He pulled you in for a quick hug. A completely platonic, pat-on the back, ends-quick-as-it-started type hug. So why did your heart almost stop?

“I’ll book your ticket,” you said over the jackhammering beat of your heart. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Just be at my apartment at 6:00.” 

Your Uber pulled up to the curb.

“I’ve gotta go.” You edged toward the car. “But, just – thank you so much. I know this is weird, but I really appreciate it.”

He winked. “Anytime.”

As you settled in the back of the Toyota Camry, you took a deep breath. What the hell did you just get yourself into?

Read Part II here!

[duskyvenus]

Super Blue Moon: What you need to hear right now

This is a general intuitive reading meant for entertainment purposes. Take whatever resonates. I am still practicing my intuitive ability so feedback would be really helpful :))

Pile 1

You might be wanting peace, a quiet life. I'm seeing walks in the nature, consuming healthy unprocessed food, lots of fruits. You might like red or orange colored fruits (could be any). I'm sensing changes in lifestyle. Maybe you will relocate or renovate your home (changing your aesthetics and style). Your soulmate(romantic) or current partner or future partner(whatever resonates) is sending you messages of affirmation. Also they might like to stare at you and admire your features lol. I'm hearing: It's all about the little things. Maybe this is something you believe in or it is about to become a theme in your life in the near future. A short trip or holiday might soothe your nerves a bit, preferably somewhere cooler. Overall, I think change is coming your away; there's this picture of letting things go and relaxing in a lodge in the mountains while sunlight creeps in through the window. Yeah lots of sunshine imagery in this pile. It's about how the sun slowly warms you up. Slowly and surely you will be moving to the next stage.

Pile 2

Similar to pile 1, I think you might be in need of some sunlight lol. I'm seeing something about hobbies, so maybe you need to get back to them? You might not have completed a previous painting, book, blanket or whatever. I'm also seeing cakes which means some kind of celebration. It might be your friend's birthday soon. Yeah I'm hearing about a dear friend, someone you think is your soulmate (for some of you, they are :] ). Or maybe a connection where either person has romantic feelings and the other feels neutral. Some of you might be studying hard and preparing for your future job and you're trying to keep a positive mindset. I see so many drawings and scribbles in a notebook. This is the student pile. I'm also seeing baked food and the aroma of cafes. Maybe you like to do your work in a cafe with a cup of coffee and some cake. Also you might be secretive and like to keep things to yourself. Might be a homebody. You are working to chase a reward and you're feeling frustrated because the path is so long. Don't be too hard on yourself. Set small goals and reward yourself for finishing them.

Pile 3

Whimsical and airy vibes for this pile. I'm hearing that you might have witnessed something paranormal? Or something that just can't be real. Hmm existential crisis? Questioning the universe? Questioning yourself? I'm seeing wings. You might be wanting to just fly away lol. Or they could be angel wings. You might be feeling lonely. Recently you might have ended a friendship or relationship OR you might have lost someone so you feel empty. I'm really sorry for your loss :( A big phase of your life suddenly came to an end so you're feeling lost. Old memories flashing in your head. Though I also feel that someone wants to approach you with hopes of making new memories with you. They seem like a very doting person and also calm. 'Calm'; your head is a mess and you feel like you're not able to think clearly. You might be asking yourself, "Am I seeing/hearing things?", "Why am I not able to do such a simple task?" Maybe your spirit guides or guardian angel want(s) to communicate with you and for that I'm hearing lavender and mint. Meditation may also help you to sort out your thoughts.

Pile 4

This is the happy-go-lucky pile. I'm seeing you have so much fun with your friends! You seem like the type to uplift people's moods. It feels empty when you're not around. You might feel pressured to keep up this cheerful image. Lately someone might have been rude to you or accused you of something or just bad-mouthed you. You might have felt taken aback because of this and tried to reflect on yourself. Don't worry, they're just jealous. Maybe you started thinking about the time when your demeanor was very different from now; you were not a cheerful person to begin with, but you started acting this way because you wanted to be treated differently. Now that there has been a sudden rejection that is asking you to re evaluate your choices, you are considering reverting back to your old self. Or maybe you think a lot about your friendships and just feel overwhelmed by the love :( This is so wholesome. You feel deeply and often wonder about the outcomes of your actions. I think that's why you wanted change, you genuinely wanted to be of help to someone. Your friends really appreciate it even though they won't admit openly (for some of you, your friend is a tsundere lol)

Pile 5

An ethereal energy in this pile. Stargazing and being mesmerized. You know that feeling you get when you look up at the stars and wonder if someone is watching you? I think your guardian angels want you to know that they are always there for you. If not a guardian angel then a deceased loved one. You have big aspirations but you often feel intimidated. You may have doubts about the path you're choosing. I just want to say that you have the star quality and you're blessed. I'm hearing fate and good luck. If you have been manifesting, try using candles or star shaped objects. You can even use them as a lucky charm. "You drew stars around my scars" - this may apply to you and someone you know. Something about light at the end of the tunnel. 'Hope' ; someone or something gives you hope to keep going. You're working really hard, you just wonder if you'll get the results. This kind of reminds me of pile 2 so you might want to check that out. "Funny how all dreams come true"

Pile 6

You might be talking to someone and you don't really know where this is going? You can say it's a situation-ship. Or you're crushing hard on someone. Either way this is making you giddy. You might also be transforming yourself and so all the changes are making you feel giddy. A very new feeling. You're trying to look at things differently. You're trying to concentrate. You're craving some form of affection. The message I'm getting is that self care will help you get that faster. Also I'm hearing that you have a vibe that is easy to mesh with. People often find you attractive even when you're not doing anything. "Aphrodite's blessings" - you may get the glow-up you've been waiting for. Similar starry night vibes as pile 5. You're also really good at giving compliments and appreciating the beauty of the smallest things. You are a very loving person if you are given the space to do so. "Hang in there baby." - your future partner could be very devoted to you.

A channeled message for everyone: Please eat well !! And have some good sleep!! Take your vitamins!!