#isn’t she the perfect april??

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 13 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: college anxiety, angst, Gabrielle, Lisa, alcohol, cursing, mentions of cheating, a frat party, explicit content: implied sex

☆word count: 8.9k

☆a/n: more angst oop- I hope you guys like it :') thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, August 30

Summer came and went. Like everything in life, it became just a moment in time, a short movie consisting of flashing scenes of friendship and fun and sun, of pools and tanning and hikes. Summer was perfect, summer was healing, yet summer couldn’t heal everything.

Summer hasn’t healed a doe-eyed boy from your heart, but you think it’s okay. You think, perhaps your love for Jungkook is just everlasting, another one of those memories you know you’ll cherish for the rest of your life.

You reckon, if you were to have kids one day and they’d asked you who your first love was, you wouldn’t be able to answer their father.

It will always be Jungkook, no matter the bitterness and the pain of the ending.

It’s his necklace you wear on your heart every day after all.

You’ve worked all summer, amassing money to cover your expenses for the year. You’ve gone back home with Taehyung for a week your mother had off, and you spent it camping like you did when you were kids, gaze getting lost in starlight and sun rays on the water, reflections of light that left afterimages on your retina.

Much like Jungkook is an afterimage on your heart. Never fully erased, yet the pain isn’t as sharp anymore. Like the time soothed its edges, reminding you of the good part, allowing you to let go of the bad.

The first news you had of Jungkook this summer was stories posted on a Saturday evening, of him and Lisa and friends in New York City. Turns out Lisa landed an internship at an architect firm in New York through her father’s connections, and turns out it was all she needed to be welcomed into Jeon Jungkook’s world over there.

You’d been jealous back then, bitterly so. Yoongi, bless his heart, had forced you to hang out at his place, claiming the empty room needed to be repainted before Namjoon moved in for the semester. It’d been a good distraction, and by the end of the weekend, you’d realized that Jungkook was allowed to have friends, to move on from your idyllic moment in his life.

It hurt, but it was a sign of healing.

You got closer to Yoongi over the summer. Learned all about his past, about his high school and how his parents were supportive when he came out, yet reluctant when he brought his first boy home. He’d told you how he met Hoseok in his last year of high school despite not attending the same school, and how their friendship had immediately blossomed.

Only to wither in April, when Hoseok had chosen to leave. None of you or your friends have had any news of him since then, like he wiped his existence from all of your lives like it was nothing. It’s been hard for Yoongi, harshly so, so you’ve made sure to always be available for him, too.

Namjoon and Nabi’s relationship didn’t suffer such a fate. They’ve only been growing stronger over the summer, proof that despite Namjoon getting out of his relationship with his ex and jumping in the one with Nabi right away, they were meant for each other. In truth, you’ve never seen anyone love each other like Namjoon and Nabi do, and maybe that most of all has healed your bleeding heart.

There has to be someone out there who’ll love you like you’re the one who paints his every sunset. 

Seokjin wasn’t on the receiving end of such a relationship. He’d confessed to Ria halfway through the summer, telling her that he couldn’t do the see-saw anymore, that he needed everything or nothing, and in good Ria fashion, your friend ran. She ran and ran, until Seokjin told her he was ashamed of having believed she deserved to be loved.

The blow has been hard on Ria, and she hasn’t been with anyone since then. Hasn’t mentioned Seokjin once either, but you know that, whenever you go out, he’s the one she’s looking for. 

The strangest part of this summer happened on a random Tuesday evening when you’d just come home from work. Taehyung and Ariane, ever so the lovebirds, had been hanging out in the living room when you’d crossed the threshold. Taehyung’s gaze had shot to you, and he’d uttered words you think have been carved into your brain.

“Did you know Jungkook is the heir of JJS pharmaceuticals?” 

You did. You knew about his father’s company - he’d told you once when you’d been lying with your head on his chest, one of the rare times he’d talked about his family after your weekend escapade to New York.

But you knew Jungkook’s existence had been mostly a secret, his father refusing to announce his existence to the world because Jungkook had refused to study at an Ivy League College.

At the confusion on your face - or rather, the masked pain you’d been hiding for weeks and months - Taehyung had added, “There was a conference press, and he’s all over social media.”

He was. You found out quickly enough, articles and articles about him showing up on your Instagram as well. You’d seen pictures from the press conference: though his father had been smiling wide, Jungkook had only been staring at the camera, like he’d wished he could disappear.

You don’t know what led him to accept a position at his father’s company before he’d even graduated, but you knew then and know now that it had to not have been his choice.

So indeed, summer came and went until it became just a memory, and the new semester now looms over the horizon, a reminder that though your skin might have been sunkissed these last few months, it’s now time to return to reality.

You’re sitting in the kitchen, indulging in Buldak noodles as you read a book about Faes and High Lords and a Night Court. You’ve started reading again over the summer, another way to escape that helped fill your breaks at work when you didn’t go out for lunch with your coworkers. It was nice to reconnect with your previous love for reading - indeed, you’d spent years in middle school and high school getting lost in fantasy and dystopian worlds, and recovering this part of you might have been another way to heal.

It’s reminded you that every story is worth telling, even those that don’t end well.

So you sit at the kitchen table, halfway done with your noodles, when the front door opens and closes. 

“Hello!” you greet out of reflex.

Taehyung and Ariane were out shopping for groceries, and though they haven’t left a long time ago, you assume it’s them coming home.

“Do you need any help?” you ask as no one replies, which is strange.

They’re always talking about everything and nothing, joking around like they’re the only people in the world. It’s something you do find cute, but that always grates your nerves in all the wrong ways.

Where Nabi and Namjoon have been making you feel hopeful when it comes to love, Taehyung and Ria have made you jaded too.

The silence prolongs, and you don’t even hear them taking off their shoes. You furrow your brows, wondering if they’re trying to prank you. So you put your book down even though you are in the middle of a good scene, and you push up from the table, heading towards the kitchen’s doorway.

You reckon, maybe you should have expected it. You’d known he was coming back at some point - he still has a year left of college. But you didn’t think he’d show up on an early Friday evening, clutching his duffel bag and standing by the door like he’s a guest in his own home.

He’s changed. The first thing you notice is that he’s changed: he doesn’t have the eyebrow piercing anymore, his hair is shorter - almost entirely shaved at the sides - and though he still has the lip piercings, he looks different than what you remember.

As if a few months was enough to blur your memories of Jeon Jungkook, and the wound you’d thought to be healed over the last few months reopens, pouring liquid lava on your entire body until you think you’re burning, and not in a good way.

He’s dressed in all black, like some things don’t change after all. He looks more built than he was last semester, like he’s gone to the gym a lot more over the summer. His tattoos have also changed - they’ve been coloured, some of them, as if he tried to put colours back into his life.

You hope it worked. But when you hold his gaze, the heaviness making you want to disappear through the floor, you think maybe it didn’t work at all.

“Y/n,” he greets.

His voice has changed too. Or maybe it’s just the emotions, maybe it’s just the fact that the last thing he ever told you were those words in the letter you keep hidden in your night table, words you’ve romanticized every night trying to fall asleep.

Not that you would tell anyone.

“Jungkook,” you reply in the same tone.

He nods once, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he takes off his shoes. You watch him, dumbly standing in the doorway, and he shoots you a look once his shoes - black boots that look far too warm for the summer - are off.

“How are you?”

His three words throw you off. They make you feel like last semester might have been a construct of your imagination, but then again you hold that letter too dearly, and the memories of him have been your favourites for months now.

“I’m okay,” you reply, nodding once. “How are you?”

He pulls on his piercings, the gesture familiar yet so different than how you’ve been imagining it every night. “I’m chill.”

He starts to walk towards his room, but he stops halfway there, glancing over your head into the kitchen. 

“Want something to eat?” you ask, and you wonder if he hears your heart as it picks up in your chest.

You see the moment he spies the Buldak noodles on the table. He smiles softly, with his eyes first, and you think maybe this is it.

Maybe he came back home.

Came back home to you.

But then his features fall, the smile vanishing and darkness invading his gaze. He shakes his head no, nodding towards his room. “Thanks, but I gotta unpack.”

You watch him walk the rest of the way towards his bedroom. He turns the knob, pushes the door open, yet he freezes there. His shoulders tense, and even though you don’t see his features, you know he wants to say something else.

You hope he will, hope he’ll say something that might mend the bridge between the two of you. That might erase this abyss between you and him until the ending disappears.

You know it’s because you haven’t seen him in a long time. Know that, when it all comes down to it, you wouldn’t go back to him - he broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to return to him. But you like to imagine that you would as he stands there, that you’d run to him if he turned and said the right words.

But he doesn’t. He sighs, and then he walks into his room, shutting the door softly behind him. And as he disappears from view, you feel yourself stumble, like you’ve taken a hit right to the chest. You lay a hand over your beating heart, almost expecting to feel blood trickling through your fingers.

As if he’s just broken your heart all over again, torn it from your ribcage. Yet it breaks - you didn’t think he still had that power over you.

Hell, you thought you’d been moving on.

You walk back into the kitchen, the room spinning around you. You drop in the chair you were sitting in before, eyeing your book. And though you want to get lost in the fantasy world again, you’re bleeding out on your chair, pain burning along every single one of your nerves.

How are you supposed to share a roof with the one that broke your heart?

The answer is easy. You can’t.

You need to get out of here, and quickly.

Monday, September 2nd 

Your first day back to college is long. You’ve got two classes - a morning and an afternoon class, both of them three hours long. 

When the second one ends - luckily half an hour early ‘because it’s the first day’ as the professor said - you make your way out of class with Nabi. She’s typing away on her phone, likely asking Namjoon when he’ll be home, yet she follows you as you head to the dorms.

You’ve been crashing at the girls’ dorm over the weekend, as you try to figure out what you should do. You haven’t figured anything yet - Taehyung’s been telling you that you shouldn’t move out, asking if it’s because of Ariane moving in, and though you’ve been good at avoiding mentioning Jungkook, there’s just so much you can do before you burst and admit that it’s because of him.

But it’s okay - Nabi’s been staying with Yoongi and Namjoon, so you have her bed all to yourself, and Ria and you have been treating it like a massive sleepover, doing face masks every night and getting mildly drunk on Saturday.

Nabi sighs as you walk towards the dorms, and you throw her a look. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel like this semester is about to be the worst,” she admits, slightly shaking her head. “Namjoon basically confirmed it.”

You hook your arm with hers, resting your head on her shoulder. “Baby, it’s fine. We’re in this together.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re the top of our class.”

“And you’re the second,” you remind her. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”

She nods, heaving out a heavy breath again. “Is it bad that I’m already anxious?”

You don’t reply right away, as you pass through a group of engineer students gathered in front of a class, most likely getting ready for an evening class. An evening class on the first Monday… 

You feel bad for them.

“It’s not bad,” you reply once you’ve finally walked past. “It means that you care about your grades. You just need to not let it eat you alive.”

“I think I’m just realizing that getting into med school might be harder than we thought,” she says with a sigh.

You stop, tugging on her arm so that she stops too. “No, I’m not having any of that,” you tell her. “We’ll both get in, Nabi, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, folding her arms on her chest.

“Yup.” You nod forcefully. “Dead serious. And after that, it’s smooth sailing until residency. And then we get a residency together, and we become sexy doctors.”

“Bruh,” she lets out, and she chuckles.

You’re happy your distraction works because you truthfully didn’t know where you were headed with it. “I promise!” you insist. “Give us a couple of years, and we’ll have our own practice.”

“You want to be a surgeon, and I want to be an ophthalmologist,” she reminds you. “Not quite sure we’d practice at the same place.”

You shrug, and you start walking towards the dorms again. “To be fair, we’ll probably both end up at a hospital. We just need to find a way to work at the same one.”

She purses her lips. “That sounds doable.”

You smirk mischievously. “Damn right.”

*****

Nabi ends up staying with you and Ria at the dorm for a couple of hours after class, and you order takeout that you eat sitting in a circle on the floor like you usually do when you do pre-drinks before a party. It’s fun, more chill than a pre-party gathering, and Ria tells you all about how she ran into Seokjin on campus today.

“He didn’t even look at me,” she admits. “What a dick.”

You exchange a knowing look with Nabi. “Maybe he didn’t see you,” you try.

“He ignores me when we all hang out together too,” she points out. “He’s doing it on purpose.”

Nabi scrunches up her nose. “Yeah… you did lead him on for months.”

“Not my fault if he fell in love,” Ria grumbles, her gaze dropping to the rice bowl she’s eating.

“It might not be your fault, but you still led him on,” Nabi pushes.

Ria huffs a breath, scoffing, but she doesn't say anything. She never really does when it comes to Seokjin anyway.

“Why are you so against the idea of being with him again?” you ask.

The scalding look you earn would put a dragon to shame. “Because I don’t want to be in a relationship,” she says, sounding like you a year ago when your friends had been pestering you about Hoseok.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“We all know he’d treat you like a goddess though,” Nabi says. “The guy’s a hopeless romantic.”

Ria rolls her eyes. “Cringe.”

You playfully push her, and she bursts out laughing. You don’t miss the way her cheeks have dusted with pink though - and neither does Nabi - but you don’t mention it.

You have a feeling Ria is lying to herself more than she’s lying to the both of you, but you’d never dare tell her. She’ll figure it out on her own or not, and that’s what being in college is.

You try stuff; some of it works, and some doesn’t. 

Jungkook invades your thoughts, your chest aching all over again. You reach for the peach at the end of the chain, playing with the pendant mindlessly as if that can tame the ache, push it back to the back rooms of your mind.

It barely works, yet you manage to be able to let go of him after a few deep breaths, and a prolonged silence of Nabi staring at Ria while the latter is solely focused on eating. Your unease went unnoticed, which you reckon is a relief.

Confiding in them about Jungkook has helped over the summer, obviously, but there are some things you want to keep to yourself. Because Jungkook deserves the centrepiece in all of the secrets you’ve ever held - he was the grandest of them all last semester after all.

Still is, considering you’ve been lying to Taehyung about him all summer. Not that you really had to lie. You just avoided mentioning Jungkook, staying vague about your semester while Taehyung told you everything about Paris. 

And so you end up saying goodbye to Nabi when she decides to go over to Yoongi and Namjoon’s apartment - Namjoon was quick to take Hoseok’s old room, seeking to leave the dorms once and for all - and you and Ria watch Demon Slayer, her favourite anime.

Coincidentally one of Jungkook’s favourite animes too, not that it matters.

You sigh - reminders of him are everywhere lately, and though you have been moving on over the summer, the ache has been revived. You wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he at home, watching anime or playing video games? Is he hanging out with Taehyung, with Jimin and their other friends? Or is he locked up in his room like he was all of Friday, before you fled the apartment?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Because Jungkook will always matter: he meant too much to you. Still does, and you don’t know what to make of it.

Ria sighs, pulling you out of your thoughts as the episode finishes. You glance at her - you’re lying side by side on her bed, a laptop in between you to watch the show.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

She purses her lips, shrugging, though it proves to be awkward considering the position. “I don’t know. It’s just… Is something wrong with me?”

A concerned crease appears between your eyebrows. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know…” She pauses, gaze still focused on the laptop screen as if she can’t bring herself to meet your own. “Why am I so opposed to relationships? To love in general?”

Oh. 

“Oh Ria…” you let out.

“Don’t,” she warns. “I don’t want to be pitied.”

You press your lips in a tight line, nodding once. She chuckles, and then she starts the next episode, like she needs a moment to collect her thoughts.

“It’s just…” she says as Tanjiro fights a demon, the fight continued from the last episode. “I’m aware that Seokjin would be good for me. I enjoyed spending time with him too. But the second he mentioned feelings…”

“It turned you off,” you complete for her.

She nods. “It really did.”

“Why do you think it did?” you ask, even though you know it has to be because of her ex.

She sighs deeply. “That’s the thing. I really don’t know. I had a loving family growing up, so I can’t blame it on that. I had friends too, good friends, but then when my ex cheated…”

“It broke the part of you that could trust easily,” you say. “And it’s understandable, and totally valid.”

“I guess so…” she trails off. “I just feel like letting someone in is too much of a vulnerability.”

“That makes sense,” you say. “You like being in control, and you feel like being in a relationship would make you lose control.”

She glances at you, eyes slightly narrowed. “Sometimes I swear to God you sound like a therapist.”

You laugh - it’s not the first time you’ve been told that. Yoongi said so last semester too, when you’d helped him get over Hoseok.

“Don’t ask me for advice though,” you say, scrunching up your nose. “I don’t think I’d have any good advice.”

“Not to be mean, but after what you put yourself through last semester, I don’t think your advice would be really helpful,” she teases.

You widen your gaze. “That was mean.”

She pouts, offering you puppy eyes. You push her on the shoulder, and she rolls on her back, laughing. “No, but seriously,” she says. “I don’t blame you. You fell in love, and that’s not your fault, is it?”

You remain silent, not wanting the conversation to turn to Jungkook. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes after a few seconds of silence. “You’re right, that was mean.”

“You’re not wrong, though,” you reassure her. “I saw all the red flags and chose to ignore them.”

Ria turns on her side again, facing you. “That’s love for you. Everyone ignores all the red flags the moment they start having feelings for someone else.”

Like Seokjin, but you don’t say it. You highly doubt she needs to hear it.

“Cheers to that,” you say, though you are void of any beverage at the moment.

You’ve left your water bottle on the floor, too far to reach from where you’re lying in bed.

“You know what we should do?” Ria says a while later, when the episode is coming to an end. “We should go to the party on Friday. The one Dave’s frat is hosting.”

The name Dave rings an extremely distant bell - you think you went to a party hosted by his frat last semester, but you’re not quite sure.

“I thought we were already planning to go.”

Ria looks at you, mischief slowly filling her gaze. “We should go and find some cute guys to forget about all of our problems with.”

You laugh. “Men aren’t the solution to everything, you know that, right?” you tease.

“Oof. They’re the root of the problem most of the time, I know.” She pauses, purses her lips. “But we’re due to have fun. You know Nabi and Namjoon will come for an hour or two and disappear anyway.”

“What about Yoongi?”

“We’ll find him someone too! He deserves it.” She nods, clearly convinced that her plan is the best she’s ever come up with.

And Yoongi does, you think that out of the three of you, he’s the one that deserves a healthy relationship the most. 

So you nod your head, saying, “It’s going to be lit.”

You can only hope that it is and that you don’t end up crying because of a certain doe-eyed man you should have let go of months ago.

Friday, September 6th  

[11:17 am] bröther👽: just letting you know that Gaby is in town so Ari will be staying with her [11:17 am] bröther👽: come home

The texts Taehyung sent to you in the morning sit unanswered on your phone. Mostly because you didn’t know what to say - he still firmly believes you’ve decided to move out because of Ariane, and you think it might have killed a possible friendship with her in the bud.

If only they knew why you truly left. It likely wouldn’t be any better - Jungkook would be dead in a ditch somewhere, and you’d be grounded by your older brother like you were when you were in high school.

You know Taehyung is likely only going to grow suspicious if you ignore him, but you really just don’t know what to say. He’s likely going to be at the party tonight - you’ll make an effort to speak to him, to reassure him, and then you’ll disappear with your friends.

That is, if Jeon Jungkook isn’t with him. Because if Jungkook’s there, you’ll avoid Taehyung like the plague, no matter if that might make him even more suspicious.

“I literally cannot physically wait,” Ria says next to you, and you shoot her a quick look as she puts mascara on.

She’s going all out tonight, and you wonder if it’s because Yoongi mentioned Kim Seokjin will be in attendance. Obviously, you don’t want to attract her ire, so you don’t say it, but you reckon Seokjin has been a ghost in every conversation since last Monday.

Much like Jungkook has been, but you’ve been good at pretending he hasn’t.

“I really hope they’ve stocked up on free alcohol,” you say, knowing you’ll need it, mostly because if Taehyung is in attendance, then Ariane will likely be, and so will Gabrielle. 

Your heart sinks in your chest at the thought - you haven’t told Ria, not wanting to ruin her enthusiasm. 

“Do you want to curl your hair?” Ria says as she finishes with the mascara. 

You shrug. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it natural,” you answer. “But you should curl yours.”

She narrows her gaze, staring at herself in the mirror. “You know what, yeah, I should.”

You chuckle, and then you both busy yourself getting ready. You apply more makeup than you usually do, only because you know it’ll be a mask you’ll use all evening.

Does Gabrielle even know about your existence?

You finish getting ready, stealing from Ria’s closet to get dressed. You settle on a pair of black leather pants, along with a black crop top t-shirt that hugs tight to your frame, revealing just an inch of the bird tattoo you got done on your right ribs in May.

You stare at the ink, thinking about Taehyung’s reaction. He’ll likely be pissed at you, but you’re done caring. If he wants to be mad, then so be it.

“Your ass looks amazing in this,” Ria compliments from behind you, and you snort as you turn to look at her.

She’s wearing a sage green corset that leaves little to the imagination. You compliment her in return, and she winks at you, before suggesting to down a couple of shots before leaving. You immediately agree, and you’ve got a light buzz by the time you leave the dorms, heading to the frat house.

It’s already crowded by the time you get there, the loud music having attracted all the party-goers on campus. The front lawn is cramped, and Ria grabs your hand, pulling you through the crowd to head to the house proper.

You make it to the hall, and luckily enough, there aren't as many people here. You’re able to navigate to the living room, where Dave - he really is the guy from last semester - finds you, offering drinks to the two of you.

You grab a beer, not trusting the questionable punch that Dave claims was prepared earlier today. Ria follows your lead, and you clink bottles with Dave, who admits he has no clue what’s in the punch when you’ve all taken your first sips.

“Bruh, why were you trying to sell it to us then?” Ria asks, eyebrows raised.

Dave laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Colton said it was good.” 

Colton… you wonder if it’s the same Colton that had warned you about Jungkook once.

“And we’re supposed to trust Colton?” Ria teases.

Dave winces. “Not really, no, he’s already drunk.”

Ria nods as you take a sip of your beer, the bitter liquid heady on your tongue. You turn your head to the side, noticing a very distraught Yoongi walking into the living room, followed close by an even more distraught Seokjin. You wave them over, and Ria and Dave both turn their heads towards the new arrivals.

You notice Ria tensing from the corner of your eye, and Seokjin looks just as uncomfortable as he stops next to you. You hug Yoongi hello, and he doesn’t let you go right away, whispering in your ear, “This place is a shitshow, I don’t think we’ll stay.”

You pout as you pull away. “We said beer pong,” you remind him.

He rolls his eyes, though you know he’s always liked playing beer pong. So you manage to convince him to go for at least one game, though you know you’ll have to wait in line for a while before it’s your actual time to play. It makes for an awkward waiting - Ria and Seokjin are both ignoring each other, and Yoongi and you are standing in the middle, trying to engage in conversation.

You’re finally on the side of the table when you recognize your brother’s laugh, a sound you were sort of hoping not to hear in this crowd. You look to your left - he’s by the garden doors that lead to the backyard, Ariane cuddled up against him, and you think the girl standing with her back to you has to be Gabrielle.

“Shit,” you let out.

Yoongi furrows his brow at the sudden curse. “What’s wrong?” You motion towards the door, and his eyes widen. “Is that who I think it is?”

He knows about Gabrielle. He’s stalked her with you, during one of your many downward spirals, and Gabrielle has that kind of aura that is all too recognizable, even if you’ve only seen her once in a picture.

“I think so,” you reply, and Ria finally leans in to join the conversation.

“Is that Gaby?” she asks, loud enough for the people around you to hear.

You tap her arm, giving her a warning glance, though you’re pretty sure no one’s actually listening. Even Seokjin didn’t glance towards you at the outburst.

But Taehyung notices you, and you quickly turn away, pretending to be focused on the game unfolding on the table in front of you. There’s one cup on the left, three on the other side, and the girls playing are clearly more talented than you: they both shoot it in the lone glass when their turn comes, hugging as they shriek in happiness from their victory.

“Let’s go,” Ria says, and she pulls you to one end of the table as soon as the girls have moved. 

Yoongi and Seokjin take the other side, even though Seokjin truly does appear like he wishes he wasn’t here, and you put the cups back into their spot, reorganizing the table.

Your brother appears next to you before you start, and you offer him a tight-lipped smile.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. 

“Me?” you let out, your voice uncharacteristically high. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says through gritted teeth, the typical Kim temper flaring up.

You grab the neon orange ball Ria hands you, shrugging your shoulders. “I haven’t. Just been busy.”

He clenches his jaw, yet remains silent as you focus on the table, preparing for the first shot, the one that determines who between you and Ria or Yoongi and Seokjin will play first.

You’re against Yoongi, so you know you’ve already lost when you shoot. To your surprise, Yoongi misses, his ball bouncing off on the side of a cup. Yours flies way off the table, and you wince.

“That was trash,” Taehyung comments.

“Thanks,” you fire back.

Ria and Seokjin throw, and Ria surprisingly manages to get the shot. You clap your hands as she offers you a thumbs-up.

“Seriously though,” Taehyung asks, handing you the ball that Seokjin threw. “What’s wrong? Why did you move out?”

“Hold on,” you say. 

You take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety of his questioning away, and you throw. The ball stays on the table this time, bouncing right next to one of the cups.

“Honestly it’s just so that I can spend time with Ria,” you answer, motioning to your friend. “She’s going through shit.”

Ria tenses next to you, offering you a quick glare before she focuses on shooting, unfortunately missing the cups.

“Oh,” Taehyung lets out. “I thought it was because of Ari.”

Speaking of Ari, you don’t see her anywhere near. You wonder where she went off to - are you lucky enough that she and Gabrielle left the party?

“Not at all,” you reply, and then you focus on the game as Seokjin and Yoongi prepare to throw. They both make it into a cup, and you clink your almost empty beer with Ria’s, taking a long sip before you move the cups to the side. “Ari’s super sweet.”

“She’ll be relieved when I tell her so,” Taehyung admits. “She was saying she could leave if it was an issue with you that she moves in with us.”

“It really isn’t,” you reassure Taehyung, feeling momentarily guilty for making Ariane feel like that. “I’ll probably come back eventually too.”

Taehyung’s eyes light up. “That’d be sick. We need to start doing Taco Tuesdays again.”

Taco Tuesdays. You’d forgotten all about them last semester - you’d spent every Tuesday last fall eating tacos with Taehyung, Jungkook joining once in a while. It was a tradition you’d had growing up with your mother too - when she wasn’t too busy working.

“I’m down,” you reply, and you get ready to throw.

To your surprise, you make the shot, landing it in the first cup at the front. Ria throws hers, and it bounces on the rim of one of the glasses before Seokjin catches it expertly. 

“Is Jungkook coming tonight?” you ask.

Everything stills inside of you. You don’t even know why you asked - you didn’t even think about it before the question fell. But then again, you think it makes sense that Jungkook would invade your thoughts now. 

When does he not?

Ria throws you a curious look at the question, though you don’t miss the disapproval in the furrow of her brows. 

“JK?” Taehyung says, as if he wasn’t sure. “I don’t think so. He says he wants to focus on college this semester.”

You nod curtly, getting ready to defend your cups as Seokjin and Yoongi throw. To your luck, they both miss, and you let Ria shoot first as you focus on Taehyung again.

“Makes sense now that he has to work for his father’s company, no?” you say, trying to sound as if you don’t care.

As if Jungkook is not the center of your universe, still to this day.

“I guess so,” Taehyung comments, and you throw, entirely missing the table again.

Ria lands hers in a cup though, which leaves four cups in front of the boys and three in front of you and Ria.

“I still can’t believe the motherfucker is rich and he never told us,” Taehyung adds.

You get the feeling. You still think New York was a fever dream - even more so now that you’ve lost Jungkook. The thought makes your heart ache in your chest, and it trickles down your body, burning all along the way.

“It’s crazy,” you let out, and it sounds just as flat as you feel - like maybe your heart just flatlined in your chest.

Taehyung makes a non-committal sound, and you’re able to focus on the rest of the game without any interruption. You evidently end up losing to Seokjin and Yoongi, and you shake hands with the boys, congratulating them for their win, even though you’d all expected it. 

“I’ll go get something to drink,” Taehyung says when you finally glance his way again. “Stay away from the punch.”

And then he leaves, and you mimic him as he walks away, raising your middle finger to his back. Ria snorts next to you, and you laugh along with her.

“He’s making me want to have some of the punch,” she says, and you laugh harder.

“Hard pass,” Seokjin says, and Ria stiffens next to you. “I tasted it, and it tastes like piss.”

“Wouldn’t even be surprised if someone pissed in it,” Yoongi says. “This party is…”

“Juvenile?” you provide.

Ria laughs, though it sounds a little forced. “It’s fun, stop.”

She sounds just as unconvinced as you think she seems, yet you all don’t mention it, which you reckon happens a lot around her lately. 

“I think we’ll head out,” Yoongi says after a few seconds. “Want to have a beer back at my place?”

“And disturb the lovebirds?” Ria answers. “No thank you.”

Indeed, Namjoon and Nabi chose to stay in tonight, and you don’t have to use a lot of brain power to imagine what they might be doing right now, when they finally have full privacy in the apartment.

“Right,” Yoongi lets out. He winces, then shrugs his shoulders. “Guess we’re stuck here for a couple of hours, then.”

He says that in Seokjin’s direction, who runs a hand on his forehead before nodding. “Can we at least go outside?”

“Sure. You girls coming?” Yoongi asks, motioning to the backyard.

Ria doesn’t even wait for you to reply, instead tugging you towards the garden doors. You stop her, glancing over your shoulder. “I actually really have to pee, but I’ll join you guys outside?”

She narrows her gaze in suspicion, and you furrow your brows. She leans in, whispering, “Are you trying to leave me alone with Seokjin?”

You snort. “Not at all,” you reply, patting her hand on your arm. “I genuinely am just about to pee myself. You know how I am with beer.”

She fake-gags, and you playfully push her as she bursts out laughing. “Ayt, we’ll be outside.” 

You wave them goodbye, and Seokjin awkwardly waves back before following Yoongi and Ria. You chuckle at the sight before heading to the bathroom, which you think is probably on the second floor.

So you make it towards the staircase you see in the corner, squeezing through the crowd and apologizing all the way, though most people are too drunk to even notice you. You successfully make it to the staircase, and you walk around the group of girls sitting on the steps, making it to the second floor unscathed. 

“Bathroom?” a guy who clearly looks like he belongs to the frat asks you.

You almost startle at the unexpected question, though you recover quickly, nodding your head. 

“Last door on the left,” he tells you. “I think someone’s in there right now though.”

“Should I not wait then?” you ask.

He chuckles. “From what I saw when I exited it was just one girl alone so, you should be good.”

“Thanks,” you answer, offering him a small smile, and he nods once before heading down the stairs, though he quickly realizes that it might be too big of a feat. He indeed just plops down on the stairs, striking up a conversation with the girls there.

They look like they know him, so you walk away, heading to the last door on the left. You lean against the wall outside, pulling your phone out of your pocket. 

No notifications greet you, so you push it back into your pocket, right as the door unlocks, and then opens.

You freeze, just as much as she does. Both of your gazes widening, until she lets out a small, “Hello”, the word heavy with a French accent.

Of course, the girl in the bathroom had to be Gabrielle.

“Hi,” you reply, and you try to smile, though you’re not sure it works.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister, aren’t you?” she asks.

You nod curtly. “The one and only.”

She smiles. “Thought so.” There’s a pause as she doesn’t move from the doorway, and you just wait, awkwardness filling every inch of you. 

Her next sentence throws you off the axis you’ve been spinning on for months now, and you just stare at her in disbelief. 

“You’re not with Jungkook tonight?” she asks.

You feel hot and cold at the same time, your heart rate picking up uncomfortably in your chest. Your palms turn clammy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if sweat appeared on your temples.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She frowns. “I thought Ari said…” she trails off, and then she shrugs her shoulders. “Whatever.” She smiles gently. “I’m happy he’s got you now.”

You think your eyes are bulging out of your head. They have to - the conversation isn’t making any sense, and you aren’t drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol.

“What?”

Her frown reappears. “Aren’t you two dating now?”

You laugh. It’s a sad, pathetic laugh, and Gabrielle looks at you like you’re crazy.

“He cheated on me with you,” you say. “Why would I be dating him?”

The frown falls, replaced by utter surprise. Her mouth opens on a silent ‘Oh’, like she wants to say something but doesn’t know what to say. It takes her a few seconds to collect herself, and then she says, “Non mais putain qu’il est con.”

You don’t speak French, so all you can do is cock an eyebrow quizzically. And then she lets out a small disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

“I told him to tell you,” she says, and she closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose. “But he’s really stupid sometimes.”

“I’m sorry?”

She offers you a small smile bordering on pity, and you brace yourself for what she’ll say next.

“Fille, I’m gay,” she says. “Jungkook was always only pretending to be my boyfriend so my family wouldn’t know. I didn’t know about you when I kissed him in Paris, and I only kissed him because Ari was growing suspicious.” 

You think you’re frozen in place. Like, stared into Medusa’s eyes and turned to stone frozen in place. All you can do is stare at Gabrielle, unblinkingly, as her words spin round and round in your head, caught in a dizzying tornado you can’t follow.

“I told him to tell you,” she repeats, and she sounds far too apologetic for the erratic beating of your heart. For the realization that she just hit you with.

You think she hit harder than a physical slap would have.

“What?” you say, voice small and weak and oh so broken.

Months. You’ve been breaking for him for months… and for what? For a promise he refused to break, one that would have explained everything in a way that would have made you work.

You would have forgiven him, no hesitation. Hell, you reckon you would have told him you loved him, would have told him you wanted to be with him from now on until you turn to dust.

But he had to choose to respect a promise he made years ago, to an ex that wasn’t really an ex after all, was she?

Just a friend from high school.

She was, after all, just a friend from high school.

She nods. “Yeah. He told me all about you.” She smiles again, though this time it’s just sad, like she knows just how shattered you are over this man. “I was rooting for you two.”

“He didn’t tell me,” you whisper as if Gabrielle hadn’t already pieced that together. “Why?”

She sighs. “He’s stupid,” she says as an explanation. “He’s the kind that’ll sacrifice himself if it means helping someone else. I suppose you know that already.”

You nod, because you do.

He sacrificed himself for you last semester when you got home crying on Valentine’s Day. And he sacrificed countless parties over his promise to Taehyung to look after you.

And he sacrificed you to protect Gabrielle’s secret.

“Holy shit,” you let out.

“Talk to him,” she says softly. “Go talk to him now. I’m not letting him lose you over me.” She scoffs, the frown she’d sported earlier returning. “I should have realized before. That he didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze widens, and you shake your head no. “Oh, no, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

It’s not your fault if he broke my heart.

It’s always just been his fault, hasn’t it?

But then again… you know now. You know that he never cheated on you, that he was right when he was saying that it wasn’t what you thought it was. 

You know that he was there, with you. That he felt for you what you felt for him, that he was chasing cars around your head, too.

And if there’s a chance you can salvage that, repair two hearts in one stone, you know you have to do it.

“I have to talk to him.” You say the words with quiet conviction, and Gabrielle nods, offering you an encouraging smile. “Fuck.”

“Go to him, fille,” Gabrielle says. “And tell him he’s an enfoiré for me.”

You highly doubt you’d be able to repeat that word, yet you still say, “Will do.”

And then you take off, entirely forgetting that you had to pee. You have one goal in mind, and it’s to run home, where you know he has to be according to what Taehyung said. You don’t even stop to text him, to confirm that he really is.

No, you run down the stairs, through the crowd and outside. The front lawn isn’t as crowded as earlier, and you easily make it to the sidewalk, skidding to a halt just long enough to change direction. 

And then you’re running home. Running home to him, your heart beating wildly. For the right reason this time. And as you run, lungs struggling to get enough oxygen in, thighs burning with heat, you feel infinite. You feel like you’re a star in the sky above, or maybe the moon returning to her lover. You feel like a bird soaring high, like a dolphin riding the waves.

You feel young and old and small and big, all at once. Like nothing is ever going to stop you again. You feel in love, you are in love, and after all the months of suffering, you reckon it’s the most beautiful feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You didn’t know you could sprint like you are right now, yet even though your body is straining, you’re not slowing down. You’ve pulled your phone out of your pocket to make sure it doesn’t fall as you run, yet you don’t slow down.

You can’t slow down anymore, not when your gravity finally aligned with his again.

Like it was always meant to be. Because it’s always been meant to be you and him, hasn’t it?

You make it home in a record time, climbing up the stairs… only to realize you don’t have your keys. They are back at the dorms, but it’s too late.

You try the door, and to your surprise, the doorknob turns, and you barge into your home, barge into this life with him.

You catch your breath as you stop in the hall, doubling over when you realize you’ve actually ran - sprinted - for nearly a mile. You’re lucky the frat house wasn’t further away - you highly doubt you would have made it home if it was any further.

“Y/n?” Jungkook says from his bedroom.

You straighten, trying to catch your breath. And the second your eyes land on him, you know it was all worth it.

Every single second of suffering was worth it to be here with him tonight.

“Jungkook,” you say in between two heaving breaths.

He’s shirtless, his honey skin just as warm as you remember it to be. He’s in fact only wearing grey joggers, and his hands are lost in his pockets like he’s trying to look nonchalant.

The concern on his features tells you he, as a matter of fact, isn’t as nonchalant as he’s trying to appear.

“Shit,” you let out. “Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

You laugh. You know you might look crazy, but you literally just ran a mile for this man, and each foot was worth it. 

The grandest journey of your life, wasn’t it?

“She told me,” you say.

He cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Gabrielle told me everything.” You surprise yourself by blinking away tears, and you let out a small laugh as you go to dry them.

Jungkook remains silent, just staring at you with horror slowly inching into his gaze. You don’t know how, or why, but it only occurs to you then that he might not be alone right now. 

“Kook?” you whisper, unable to say it louder.

Not when you’re slowly crashing down from the high.

“Y/n, I…” he trails off. He closes his eyes, head hanging low. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

You gulp as you swallow. “Yeah, huh.”

You look down, noticing a pair of sneakers you’ve never seen before.

It takes all of the courage you can muster up to look back up when the door of the bathroom opens, revealing a dishevelled Lisa, in only a t-shirt you recognize all too well.

You’d used to sleep in that t-shirt, too.

Lisa sees you after you see her, turning beet red. She’s naked under Jungkook’s shirt, or at least you think she is.

You assume she is considering that he’s shirtless too.

“Oh,” you let out.

Choke out might be a more appropriate word. Because you’re crashing, and you’re crashing hard. Hitting the wall at 120 mph, splattering on it until there’s nothing left of you. Nothing left of that hope you’d found at the party, the hope Gabrielle had so kindly gifted you even though she owed you nothing.

Someone’s screaming. You think someone’s screaming - is it just in your head?

“Hey, Y/n,” Lisa says awkwardly. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“I live here,” you reply, voice empty of any emotion.

She purses her lips, nodding once, and then she hesitantly walks out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry I… I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

Neither did you. Neither did Jungkook - it would have saved everyone a whole lot of breaking if you’d known. 

If you’d known that having hope for Jeon Jungkook was futile and useless. 

How could you even think you were meant to be with him? There is no universe for you and him out there. Just different worlds of breaking. Because it’s all your soul knows how to do - all your soul knows is to break for him, to shatter and crash and fracture for the man standing in front of his opened bedroom door.

“No worries,” you say, though this time your voice does wobble.

This time, the pain does colour your tone in heartbreak blue.

Jungkook just remains silent, like he’s suddenly gone mute. You think it’s better like this - if he were to say anything right now, you think you’d likely break down here. Instead, you take a deep breath, pat your pockets and say, “I think I forgot my keys at the party.”

Unable to help yourself, you glance towards Jungkook once. He meets your gaze - he looks infinitely pained, the heartbreak stark on his features too. There’s some reassurance in knowing that he’s breaking, too. That you’re doing it together. 

Heartbreak isn’t as lonely when you’re doing it together. 

“How did you…” Lisa trails off, but she doesn’t finish.

She falls silent, clearly hearing the screaming in your head too.

You’re outside a second later, carefully closing the door behind you. Carefully severing the rest of your relationship with Jungkook, until all that is left is the memories.

You take a step back, looking at the door, thinking he might open, might come see you.

Thinking he might be your home after all.

But he doesn’t, the door staying stubbornly closed. You get the message - your souls were never meant to merge. The songs that you thought were about him, about you, about the two of you together, they were never about you. You were never meant to lie down and forget the world with him. 

Or maybe you were, but it came with an expiration date.

You reckon you and Jungkook have always had an expiration date. You just forgot tonight, became blind to it thanks to false, treacherous hope. And so you leave, walking down the stairs as you blink away the tears that are clinging to your waterline.

You embrace the heartbreak, let it sweep through you until you think it’s all you’ve ever known. And like a true companion, the heartbreak carries your steps through the night.

Prev | Chapter 13.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

do I feel bad for the amount of angst I wrote into this story? Maybe a little. I promise one day things will get better for these two, but in the meantime, what did you guys think?

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[antoncyng]

౨ৎ the one he loves — p.sh

synopsis - after spending a day with your bestfriend at the beach, you realize he really is the one you love.

warnings - tooth rotting fluff, bestfriends to lovers, maybe a few kys jokes??, kissing, cursing, fem!reader, reader can’t swim lol | wc - 500+

release date - 04/13/24

notes - first fic with the new theme.. what do we think (*´∀｀*)

friday, april 12th, 2:47 was the day and time you found out you were in love with your bestfriend.

how did this happen? you two were just at a beach, and now you two were back at sunghoon’s house, in each others arms watching a movie.

——— 4 DAYS AGO

“yn, you know sunghoon has the biggest crush on you, right? how could you not see it?” one of your bestfriends, ningning, argues back to you. it was almost the end of lunch break, you and your bestfriends were in a group around you and giselle’s desks.

“he doesn’t like me, we’ve been bestfriends forever.” you argue back, gently hitting chaeryeong’s arm when she shakes her head and sighs in defeat.

“looks like you’ll just have to wait and see if he confesses..” she mumbles after hearing the bell, all your friends making their ways back to their own desks.

- DING -

you heard and felt your phone vibrate on your desk from the notification, picking it up and seeing 3 texts from sunghoon.

hoon (dni..) : ynynynynyn

hoon (dni..) : can we go to da beach dis weekend

hoon (dni..) : answer my texts woman

you just chuckled at his texts before unlocking your phone and tapping your keyboard to respond.

you : yes we can go

you : sorry i was talking to my friends

hoon (dni..) : u have other friends than me??!

you : kys

you laughed quietly again before shutting off your phone and putting it away, picking up your pencil while your teacher walks back into the class, perfect timing.

——— PRESENT DAY, APRIL 12TH, 12:35 PM.

lying on your stomach while resting your head on your arm, in a bikini, while sunghoon sat up with his hands behind his back for support. “isn’t that boring to you? why don’t we go into the water like real fun!” sunghoon whined once again, only having around 10-15 minutes between each complaint.

“it’s called tanning, it makes me look better! we can go in the water in.. 5 minutes..” you bit back at him, earning a groan from the boy next to you. “you look pretty tanned or not..” he mumbled, turning his head so you couldn’t hear what he said clearly.

5 MINUTES LATER

still tanning, you soon felt arms lifting you, making you flinch. “sunghoon! put me down right now!!” you exclaimed, squirming in his arms while smacking his shoulder, only gaining laughs from your bestfriend.

“it’s been 5 minutes!!!” he fought back, finally reaching the water and sinking the both of you into the cold, clear ocean, finally putting you on your feet. both of you hissed at the cold, stepping backwards and still facing him, you went deeper into the water.

but you felt a rock hit the back of your ankle, tripping over and almost falling, but you felt sunghoon’s arms catch you by your waist before you hit the cold water with the top half of your body.

you opened your shut tight eyes, seeing sunghoon’s face closer to yours than you expected, making the both of your faces flush a shade of light red.

“sorry.. i know you can’t swim so i didn’t want you to fal-“ he started to ramble after stabling the two of you, being shut up by your lips on his. he stood frozen for a few seconds, before slowly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

pulling back from the kiss, you both smiled at each other. your arms still around his neck and his around your waist, you could just close the gap between you two and hug him tightly.

“you talk too much when you’re nervous, hoon.” you mumbled into his shoulder.

maybe ningning was right, you really were the one he loves.

tags ; @ilovetaroo @wonifullove @lilacnini @naespas @copyhanni

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL OR REPOST

thank you for reading ✌︎('ω'✌︎ )

[spidermaninlove]

Are TZ Married?

I spot a yellow-diamond ring (at least five carats, maybe six), from Bulgari. “This is my splurge, my treat-myself,” she smiles. “I do get a little employee discount,” she laughs shyly. “It feels like it’s gonna be an heirloom, like one day I can give it to my grandchildren.”  -- Zendaya for British Vogue, October 2021 (Interview conducted on July 1, 2021).

According to a Bulgari representative, Z's yellow diamond ring is an "engagement ring."

Rewind to November 2017 when Z posted this to her Snapchat account:

Then she immediately followed up with this Snapchat post:

Z's fondness for yellow diamond engagement rings obviously predates 2021. So did she or didn't she buy the Bulgari yellow diamond engagement ring for herself? That is the question. After reading the following statement in her interview in the October 2021 issue of British Vogue, I have serious doubts.

In February 2021, when asked during an interview if Tom would settle down now, he said he would do. x Five months later, on July 2, 2021, Page Six confirmed Tom and Zendaya were a couple.

But Z preferred to keep her dating status private during her interview on July 1, 2021 with British Vogue -- the same day the paparazzi photographed them kissing:

...dating her IRL is, she insists, a tall order. The list of approvals is long – “my dad, my brothers, it’s a whole thing. Good luck to whoever wants to take that on,” she scoffs. Perhaps her Spider-Man co-star Tom Holland, who has long been rumoured to be her boyfriend, is up to the task? After all, the following day (July 2, 2021), photos appear of the pair kissing in a car after our lunch (on July 1, 2021)."

August 2021

TZ attended their friends' wedding in August 2021. While at the wedding reception, Z did not participate in the traditional bridal bouquet toss. She watched the toss from their nearby table and then shared a kiss with Tom after the bouquet was caught. x

On September 1, 2021, TZ finally acknowledged they are a couple via Tom's Instagram post.

In November 2021, Tom told GQ that he and Z will talk about their story and what it is when they're ready.

"This isn’t my story. It’s our story. And we’ll talk about what it is when we’re ready to talk about it together.”

In June 2023, during an interview with BuzzFeed, Tom said, "I'm locked up, so I'm happy and in love..." x

In July 2023, during a podcast with Jay Shetty, Tom stated, "My relationship is the thing I keep most sacred. I don't talk about it. I try my best to keep it as private as possible. We both feel very strongly that that is the healthiest way for us to move on as a couple." x

September 2023

Miss Nicaragua allegedly shared during a live that she had met TZ in Oakland and that she hopes Zendaya's marriage goes well (post blogged on September 18, 2023). Note: TZ were in Oakland August 25-26, 2023.

Three days later, on September 21, 2023, Darnell went live on Instagram to adamantly deny Zendaya is engaged.

If she's not engaged, is she married? 🤫

October 2023

Law and Darnell were on the bridal floor in Vera Wang's store in Beverly Hills on October 13, 2023. I believe it's safe to assume Z was there as well.

February 2024

During a BBC Radio 2 interview, Z stated that British people are her family now.

April 2024

In a Vogue article dated April 9, 2024, Z described her perfect future which includes a protected life with her family.

Speaking of a protected family life, TZ recently adopted a dog named Daphne from Protection Dogs Worldwide.

And speaking of dogs, Z left her beloved Noon with Tom in London while she went to California. Tom even took Noon to work at the Duke of York's Theatre several times while Z was far from home (pun intended) for a couple weeks during the months of June and July 2024.

Note: Tom recently posted Noon, along with Daphne, on his Instagram account. x

April 2024

An Atlanta paparazzi posted this to his Instagram account and then deleted it.

And then he posted and deleted this the following week:

February & April 2024

Dom Holland attended Z's London premieres for both Dune 2 (February) and Challengers (April). Is this considered father-in-law behavior?

May 2024

According to Ashley Perez, her notary instructor "insinuated" TZ may have gotten a confidential (non-public) marriage license.

Note: Ashley attends a college near the Bay Area.

California Confidential Marriage License Requirements:

The participating parties must be at least 18 years old to apply for a confidential marriage license. ✅

There are no CA state or US residency requirements.  ✅

The couple must state to the notary or county clerk office that they have been living together, as husband and wife or partners ✅ - not as roommates - at the time they apply for the marriage license, and must sign an affidavit on the license attesting to living together. There is no time requirement as to how long the couple has lived together.

You are not required to get married in the county where you purchase the confidential marriage license; however, you must be married in California.  You must file the license in the county where it was purchased.  

No witnesses are required to be at the ceremony, AND no witnesses sign on the marriage license.

The marriage license is a confidential record and is registered at the County Clerk’s Office in the county where it was purchased. A notary public with special authorization may issue, sign, and file a confidential marriage license.

Secret, Civil, Private, and Traditional Weddings

It's not uncommon to have a civil wedding ceremony and then have a traditional or destination wedding at a later date. Celebrities Joey King, JLo, and Elizabeth Olsen have done it. Anya Taylor-Joy originally eloped in New Orleans in 2022 and then had a wedding in Italy the following year. Millie Bobby Brown had a private family wedding in May of this year and is in the process of planning a second wedding for family and friends. Robert Pattinson and Suki Waterhouse recently had a secret wedding ceremony. Beyoncé, Kerry Washington, and Margot Robbie had secret weddings as well. Did TZ have a civil/secret/private wedding ceremony and are they planning a traditional/second wedding in the future? If so, it wouldn't be the first time they've kept their relationship status a secret.

Disclaimer: The opinions stated in this blog post are for entertainment purposes only.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 1: I'LL BE YOUR PLASTIC TOY

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: angst, suggestiveness, making out, light bullying

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i am here to ruin everyone's lives. apologies in advance

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

March, 2008

“Hey, Twigs. Wanna see something cool?”

His honeyed voice chills your spine, his breath warm right by your ear. You roll your eyes as you turn to face Satoru, grinning with all his teeth as he tugs at your wrist. 

“What is it, Satoru?” you sigh.

“You have to follow meee,” he sings, pulling you away from the table you’re setting and towards the side of the porch. It’s secluded. Private. “Bring the spoon.”

With furrowed brows, you oblige. It isn’t like you have a choice. You had followed him around like a puppy ever since you’d met him as a child. You continue to, regardless of your determination to separate yourself from him.

His favorite shadow. His little pet.

The two of you aren’t as close as you were when you were children, but it’s still impossible to refuse him when he has a request. You blame it on your mother and her professionalism. You figure you had inherited it from her. That hyper-politeness. You find that you blame the ocean blue of his eyes more often. Always sparkling. 

He walks a few feet away from you, still grinning. You blink at his tall figure. He's currently dressed in a baby blue dress shirt (sleeves rolled up, of course) and black slacks. His Sunday best for the fancy brunch at the Gojo Estate. Every April, your mother summons you to help set up, then rewards you with a plate and time to play with the other kids. She would continue her work, serving the family and their guests. You would pretend that you weren’t part of the staff.

There hadn’t been a point in you staying for the afternoon in years. Only if Satoru begged you to, and even then, he hadn’t bothered to do so since junior high.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” you huff, crossing your arms. You wipe your sweaty hands on your smock.

“I’d never let you get in trouble, you know that,” he smirks. “Now, throw the spoon at me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“I want to throw way more than a spoon at you right now.”

“Relax, Twigs. Do this for me. Please?” he pouts. You can see his bright blue eyes peeking out of his black sunglasses, framed by snow-white lashes. It was unfair how pretty he was. How easily he could persuade you. 

Sighing, you throw the spoon in his direction. It stops right in front of his face as if there’s an invisible wall. He laughs in victory when he sees your confused expression. 

“What was that?” 

“My Infinity. I’ve perfected it so that it’s automatic. Took me a lot of willpower before but now it’s as easy as breathing.”

“Congratulations,” you reply dryly. 

It was typical of Satoru to be invincible. Untouchable. It had been a quality of his since birth, now manifested into a literal power to aid him against threats. You’d been on the outskirts of such threats when you were younger, but Satoru would always spare you the details.

Watching him grow in his adolescence had been like watching a sprout bloom. It shot toward the sky exponentially until it became a tree in record time. You, meanwhile, were still a sprout. A window, they’d called it. Able to see the horrors produced by human nature but unable to do anything about it.

Your head snaps up, alert when you hear your mother yelling your name from the porch. She points a hard gaze at you, then softens it when she sees Satoru.

“Satoru-kun, do you mind if I steal her for a minute? I need some extra hands for the tamagoyaki.”

Satoru nods, expressing his courtesy to your mother in his usual charming poise. It used to work on you before, but it often irks you now. The way he dazzles people to get what he wants. You would rather die than admit it was a characteristic of his that you envied.

He tugs at your braid before you walk away.

“See you later, Twigs,” he calls after you. A playful lilt to his voice. 

“You won’t.”

Satoru has you memorized. Since the two of you were five years old, he considered you his mirror image, though you never believed him. 

Often, when he sees you now, his heart leaps the tiniest bit in his chest the same way it did when he was thirteen. He’s gotten better at ignoring it. He’s perfected the art of ignoring you ever since high school started.

He likes to indulge during times when you’re not looking. At the moment, you’re concentrated on a flower arrangement, a blush painted on your cheeks from the heat. He’d watch you do this when you were kids, too. Your face would be in a concentrated frown, tongue peeking out. Nimble fingers perfecting an ikebana arrangement. 

Sometimes he missed it. He decided long ago that it would be better if he didn’t.

You two had been inseparable since the day the Gojos' hired your mother as a maid. He remembered you hiding behind your mother’s legs, chewing on the end of one of your braids. You would stay in the guest house of the Gojo estate with your mother, and you would become Satoru’s best companion. 

Both of your mothers would arrange playdates. Satoru’s mother wanted him out of her hair. Your mother wanted to work without your constant interruptions. You were needy, an only child, but Satoru would always please you with his company. It was why you adored him.

He’d show you all his toys and teach you all the games that his extended family would show him to make you feel included. He’d have you sleep in his bed, which would go under the radar until the two of you were fourteen. It would be innocent and wholesome. Satoru would show you the stars he’d learned about and you would look at him as if he’d hung them in the sky himself. 

Satoru often reminisces about the shape of your body to this day. Sometimes, he misses it when he’s alone in his king-sized bed in the winter. Even with the heat on, there’s still something missing, and then he thinks of you.

When you were kids, you’d sleep together, legs and arms intertwined. Drool on the same pillow. Wake up to an abundance of pancakes from your mother.

You had been half a friend, half a plaything. Satoru’s counterpart. Feet kicking each other under the breakfast table. 

At age five, you’d seen the same curse together. A harmless thing, chameleon-like, with eight legs on each side. It had a nasty face, one that you had recognized from your nightmares. It had been exciting at first, knowing that you shared the same ability as your best friend. You believed that you would grow with him and become as talented as him.

But that was an exaggeration. Satoru's parents knew how isolating it would be for their son to be the strongest. Your technique never came.

Satoru acted as your protector, then. Expelled the small, vicious curses in the corners of your room like they were bugs. You’d watch him train, his body overgrowing with knobby knees as you sat on the sidelines. And while you grew up with him, you only got smaller in his periphery. Always lesser. Always weaker.

It’s the reason you’d grown apart. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

Satoru had grown into a tall, arrogant child. He treated school as a hobby and still made the highest marks, which angered you to no end. It didn’t matter to him, anyway, knowing that he’d become a company's CEO or the best jujutsu sorcerer in the world. He had his future in the palm of his hands. You were not a part of that. You weren’t even sure of a future of your own.

Sometimes he would have nightmares of you dying in his arms at the hands of a curse too big for him to control. During adolescence, he experienced many threats to his safety. He knew he couldn't live with himself. He couldn’t bear to see you endure the same. 

So, without explanation, Satoru Gojo pretended you didn’t exist. He exchanged the necessary niceties in school and when you'd come over with your mother, though he'd never ask you to stay the same way he had when you were kids. He was often occupied with new friends, anyway. Often busy working on his technique. Nothing that was your business, of course.

You resented him for it. 

Now, you’re enduring your last year of high school with him, and you are trying so badly to be good. You should aim to make good enough marks to attend a decent university on a decent scholarship. God knows you aren’t fit for the world of jujutsu sorcery. 

In a way, you’re okay with the mundanity of your life. Satoru’s absence in your heart convinced you of that. 

Satoru’s attendance at school is only an illusion of normalcy for his parents. His mother insists on it. Barely a sorcerer herself, she had wanted to give her son the option of living a normal life. With his grades and wit, she knew that he could easily be successful as a businessman or a doctor. 

Despite this, Satoru knew he would enroll in Tokyo’s Jujutsu Technical College with Suguru. He had met Suguru when he was fifteen, trying to exorcise a curse that only got snatched by a dark-haired thief, one who would end up as his best friend. 

Satoru saw Suguru as his only equal. He had no one else to relate to about jujutsu sorcery. 

Certainly not you.

But still, he was closing another year of high school, his last. Then he could be free from his parents’ restraints. It was easy for him to be the best and make the most friends. It was a shame that he’d have to leave them all behind. 

You’re a ghost in Satoru’s wake. Always near, never faltering yet never consuming too much space. As the school year progresses, he ignores you like a mosquito bite. Harmless but still itching his skin. Always reminded of your presence even when you do nothing to draw attention to yourself. 

And then there are times that you do.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” you mumble, stunned in the doorway of the classroom.

It’s a nondescript weekday in May, one that’s wet with rain, which explains your damp hair and clothes. Your appearance conjures a succession of snickers. The sound of low laughter taunting you and whispers gossiping about you.

You’re too tired for it. You don’t want to be here at all.

“I’m disappointed,” your teacher relays. “You’re usually never tardy.”

“It won’t happen again,” you muster.

You hear more whispers. It hangs on your shoulders as you sit in your seat, still and heavy as you attempt to take notes.

Should’ve worn something more sheer, than she’d get the attention she wants, huh?

Nah, not like her tits are even good enough to be seen like that.

Bet she’s hiding something from all of us. Maybe we can get her to strip in the girls’ locker room and give us a show later.

“Shut the fuck up,” a voice growls. You hear it, turning your head, and your eyes fall on Satoru’s fiery blues. 

You wonder if the feeling of his gaze searing into the back of your head is worth mentioning. It makes your face hotter, the flush of humiliation warming your neck as your peers snicker at you.

You manage to get through class without crying. Haru, a boy you were closer with in previous years, offers his sweatshirt to you as you collect your things. 

“She’s good,” Satoru interrupts as you strip off your damp sweater. Within seconds, he has you under his arm. He ushers you out the classroom door. His oversized jacket drapes over your shoulders.

“Gojo,” you hiss. “He was just being nice.”

“Or he wanted to see you in a wet t-shirt. I don’t think white was the best move for today, by the way.”

Your face heats up when you look down. You realize the extent of skin that’s visible from the sheerness of your damp white shirt. It mortifies you more when you realize that Satoru had caught it first.

“Right. Thanks,” you mumble, hiking up your bookbag tighter on your shoulder. 

“So helpless sometimes,” Satoru sighs. He shoots you a devilish smile that combats your scowling frown. “Why don’t you call me by my first name here?”

“Because we’re in school and it’s polite.”

"Twigs, are you scared of being associated with me?"

He blocks the door of your locker, leaning against it and towering over you. Satoru had always taken up as much space as possible without a care in the world. You were the opposite -– always compartmentalizing yourself to be smaller. Malleable. Amicable.

He’s too close for comfort, nearly breathing down your neck. He only moves when you kick him pathetically in the shin.

Satoru’s smile only grows bigger as you ignore him. He wonders if he could get your fuse to blow in front of him right now. This place is usually where you’re composed, regal, and expedient. One of the school’s top students. 

He knew you had an edge to you, wild as you were when he had known you as a child. But you had only grown to be responsible and sensible. He thinks that his mother would be relieved if he acted more like you.

“Coming home with me or what?” Satoru quips. The way he says it makes your stomach stir. It's an almost salacious suggestion despite its innocence. Satoru always made everything sound more exciting than it was.

“Why would I?” you raise a brow.

“My mother would like to see you. She told me she had some hand-me-downs for you to try on." You know I’d love nothing more than to see you parade around my house dressed like my mother in the 70s.” He grins in amusement.

“Okay, sure, whatever.”

“Yo, Satoru!” 

His head whips around to see one of his buddies, crowded around other jocks. Satoru is quick to leave you without so much as a goodbye. 

July, 2008

After your semester, you end up second to Satoru. It’s no surprise to you despite how much it infuriates you. You are never anything more or less. 

"Congratulations, Twigs," Satoru murmurs to you. He startles you from your thoughts. You slam your locker closed.

“Why are you still calling me that?”

“Because you’re my Twigs,” he pouts.

Yours. It’s a funny lie. Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

He pouts childishly like he always does. There’s a devilish spark in his blue eyes underneath his sunglasses, though you can barely make out his irises from his height. Satoru’s growth spurt had him at over six feet tall by the time he was sixteen. It was obvious that he’d only grow taller. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the nickname. If you were in middle school again, the notion would warm your heart. It had been a stupid nickname he’d tease you with ever since you were both ten. You had been angry at him for reasons that escaped you, climbing up the tree in the backyard of his estate as high as you could until he begged you to come down.

You wouldn’t, of course. You were always stubborn like that, and Satoru loved it. 

You were also much clumsier when you were ten, slipping your foot as you attempted to climb a different branch and falling into Satoru’s arms. It had been a miracle you didn’t break any bones, but thanks to Satoru’s freakish strength, you were unharmed. Only disheveled with leaves and twigs stuck in your frizzy hair. He had called you Twigs ever since. 

“I’m not your anything. Even if my mother is still your fucking maid.”

“Aren’t you my maid, too? My little servant?” he teases. 

You wonder if he knows how cruel it is, even if it’s a little joke.

“I’m nothing to you,” you mumble. You attempt to hold a faster stride on your walk home. Maybe you’d advance enough to leave him in the dust. You could be the best runner on the track team if you managed that.

But you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t. Not a chance.

“What was that?” Satoru calls after you.

“Nothing!”

“Slow down,” he whines, running fast enough to follow your stride, much to your annoyance. Him and his stupid, long legs. His taunting smile. “Don’t you wanna come over?”

“Why would I?”

“Your mom’s probably there. And we can celebrate the end of exams.”

“I have… stuff to do,” you stammer.

“No, you don’t,” Satoru chuckles. “The semester’s over. Summer’s here, baby.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He laughs again, the sound twinkling in your ears like a beloved song. It makes your cheeks warm. You don’t want him to see it. 

Yet, he wraps his arms around you, chin nestled to your collarbone as if you were joined together. In a blink, the two of you are in his kitchen, with whiplash only an after-effect. You still hadn’t gotten used to his ability to warp.

“I hate when you do that.”

“You like it, I know you do,” Satoru taunts. “It excites you. I can tell because your cheeks get all flushed.”

“They do not!”

“Sure, they don’t, Twigs.” 

“You’re annoying,” you huff, dropping your school bag on a chair.

Satoru greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek as you follow behind him. She has tea prepared in the sitting room for you and him, along with dorayaki and matcha Swiss rolls.

“Your mom’s the fucking best,” he muses as he gobbles down a third roll. You watch him in feigned disgust. Sipping your tea, you mumble something unintelligible in agreement.

“What, you aren’t hungry?”

“No.”

“Try this.”

“I have. She’s my mom.”

“C’mon, Twigs, open up.” 

Satoru leans over the table with a Swiss roll between his fingers, waving it in front of your face. There’s no point in protesting -– he’d probably knock something over from his eagerness to annoy you. You part your lips to take a bite, and at the same time, he shoves it into your mouth.

“Satoru!” you groan.

“Stay still.”

You swallow your bite and he wipes his fingertips on the corner of your mouth. He’s close enough to feel your breath on his face, licking up the frosting on his thumb nonchalantly. He chuckles at the flustered look painting your face into a scowl.

“I’m done. I’m going to do the dishes.” 

You excuse yourself to retreat to the kitchen before you can so much as make eye contact with Satoru again. He has to be teasing you with his small touches. It’s something he would’ve done when you were twelve, yet the notion now would be different. 

The two of you were in completely different social spheres. He had separated himself from you years prior. It would be a rare sight for him to be so touchy with you in public, acting as if you were like him. 

Someone who had a big kitchen. Someone who didn’t have to think about expenses.

It’s a miracle that he leaves you alone as you clean the kitchen, washing dishes to keep your mind occupied. After you’re done, you decide to cut up a bowl of strawberries. You knew they were Satoru’s favorite. Knowing him, he’d still crave something sweet after demolishing all the desserts.

You nick yourself. A careless act — you aren’t paying attention, mistaking the sharp side of the knife for the dull one. It slices the inside of your thumb. Cursing under your breath, you hover your hand over the wound. You heal it within milliseconds without so much as a second thought.

This is when Satoru kicks at something. The wall or a potted plant, you don’t know. But it’s a plea for attention and it brings your focus to him, your head snapping up to meet his gaze and his childish pout. 

“I saw that,” he says, lowly.

You freeze under his scrutiny. You don’t say anything.

“So you’ve been lying to me.” It’s a seething accusation instead of a question.

He gets so close to you without you even noticing. He towers over you again, swallowed by the whole of his shadow, and his betrayed frown is petulant like a child’s. 

“Satoru—”

“You said you didn’t have a cursed technique.”

“I—I didn’t. Not until later—”

“When?”

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hands trembling. He takes a step forward, taking up more space. It reminds you of your worth. The mere fact of him belittles you in that way.

“When I was thirteen. My kitten, Aki. The stray. You remember him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“He got hit by a car one day, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. And I was holding him in my hands all bloody. And then, I brought him back to life. It just happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You search Satoru’s face. There’s a bit of betrayal in it, mostly surprise. It boils your blood in the slightest bit — because why is it so shocking that you ended up with a cursed technique? You may have hidden it from him for a few years, but was it something so unimagined for you?

You assumed that you would always be a plaything in Satoru’s eyes. Something so easy, so useless.

“It wasn’t enough,” you exasperate. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it does, Satoru. It’s so—”

Insignificant. Small compared to you.

He waits, swallowing the lump in his throat. Eyes flaring like comets.

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat. “I don’t even want to be a sorcerer, and even if I wanted to be, I could never keep up with you. I don’t see the point in pursuing this if I’m better off just studying at a normal university—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your technique is amazing. It’s like Shoko’s! You could’ve —”

“Satoru,” you emphasize. Your tone shuts him up, your hardened gaze, the lightning in your eyes bright and sharp. Menacing, even. You can sense the sound of him swallowing, a lump lodged in his throat loud enough for you to hear.

White lashes flutter. A frown is still displayed on his face. It’s now that he notices the slight bags under your eyes. Evidence of burden, of nights spent awake under the unforgiving moonlight.

You look at him in a way that feels damning — like you’re coaxing something from him. He knows better — knows that his anger is misplaced, that you’re right.

You having a healing technique is nothing compared to him. Even then, he knows that you probably aren’t interested in combat or the world of jujutsu sorcery in general. It doesn’t affect him so negatively. So what is he so angry about?

The question is in your eyes, pleading. He already knows the answer despite not admitting it to himself. He knows that the prospect of you having a cursed technique doesn’t mean you’re stronger than him. He assumes you wouldn’t surpass him, and wouldn’t think you to be someone who would even think about it. 

Satoru knows he’s angry because he feels very close to you. He had at least thought he was close enough with you to know about your cursed technique. It was finding out that you were hiding it from him that made him angry. Learning that you had it manifest in front of you and didn’t bother to fucking tell him about it.

He can’t voice any of these frustrations. He knows you’d yell at him, and criticize him for thinking he’s entitled to you. It’s inappropriate and unfair, but in his younger years, he often felt that he was entitled to you. He’d known you since you were so very little, so vulnerable. He had protected you from all those curses, hadn’t he? He held you in his arms in his bed for years. That had to have meant something to you. It certainly meant something to him. 

“Sorry. I just wish you told me earlier,” he says softly. 

You apologize. Meek beneath him, eyes avoiding him. 

“I know,” you sigh. “I have to go. I’ll see you later, Satoru.”

You don’t see him for a week and a half. It should be typical to you. It’s not like him to reach out or go out of his way to see you. He’d always been like that, giving you no expectations. And yet, his radio silence had crawled under your skin.

It’s stupid to expect him, anyway. There’s no reason for him to show up at yours, much more of a reason for you to show up at his, but you don’t need to. Your mother does that for her job and it has nothing to do with you.

There’s a Tuesday that’s so quiet, so plain that even the rain falters after two hours to only grant the town wet pavement. You’re curled up with a book in your living room when you hear a succession of knocks on your door. An erratic rhythm, the same as the special knock you would use with Satoru.

It’s him, of course. He smirks at you, an oversized t-shirt loose off of his lanky figure. You try not to fixate on the sweat of his exposed collarbone. You look him straight in the eyes through his pitch-black sunglasses.

He has a large bouquet in his hands. He grins at you. For the first time in a little while, you feel brave.

“Confessing your love to me this afternoon, are you?” you pester, a brow raised.

Something like that, Satoru thinks.

“You wish.” 

He walks past you, brushing your shoulders much to your annoyance. He sets the bouquet on your kitchen table in its little jar, peonies drooping despite how hard he tries to fix them.

“It’s from my mom to yours. As a thank you and a birthday wish and stuff.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “That’s very sweet of her.”

He hums in agreement, rocking his heels back and forth as his eyes roam your house. It isn’t his first time here, but he acts the part, hands buried in his pockets as he observes you like a wild animal. 

“Will that be all?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugs. “What were you up to before I showed up?”

You shrug, too, attempting to mirror his nonchalance. You had long ago buried your paperback in a drawer, promising to return to it by the time Satoru left. But still, he lingers, in front of you, taking up unnecessary space in your childhood home. Too tall and too pretty.

“Just cleaning my room,” you lie. 

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“Been a while,” he shrugs. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s a mess right now. I didn’t get very far.”

“Like I care,” Satoru chuckles. 

He stares at you for a bit, heartbeats passing the time in your head. Fuck, he’s serious. He’s already leaning towards the staircase.

“Okay.”

You’re hyper-aware of him behind you, eyes exploring the length of your body. If you had known that he would show up unannounced, you would’ve changed into one of your long dresses or a pair of jeans. At the moment, you feel too bare in your tank top and corduroy shorts. You feel like a child outgrown.

Satoru takes up as much space as usual, long limbs splayed over your tiny twin bed. You don’t permit him to sit on your bed, but he does it anyway. He looks at the pictures on your wall, takes in the sweet smell of your sheets. It’s similar to your clothes, your flesh. Your hair. He’d live in it if he could.

“How cute.” He gestures to a cat plushie by the head of your bed. 

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Satoru laughs. “It is cute. It’s so you.”

A certain fervor blossoms in your gut at that. The image of him stretched out on your little bed. Despite your closeness with him when you were younger, he had never spent much time at your house. It took you a few years to understand why.

“You should invite me over more often.”

“I don’t invite you over ever.”

“Well, you could start.”

“Why?” You stand by the wall, shifting your weight towards it as you lean backward. You cross your arms in defense, even though he hasn’t said anything to provoke you yet.

“It’s comfy here. I like it.”

“Thanks?”

He sings your name, beckoning you to him. You take three steps at most, holding your breath. Standing in front of his knees.

“Come sit, Twigs.”

“Told you not to call me that,” you breathe.

“Don’t care,” he grins. 

He reaches out to you, pulling you between his knees with a hand on your waist. He smirks at the sound of your gasp as he tugs at your wrist. 

“In my lap. C’mere.”

It’s difficult to refuse Satoru Gojo. His eyes drink you in, ocean blues glimmering and reflecting the afternoon sunlight. You’re still between his thighs. He tugs you without much effort, making you stumble into him. Your hands hold onto his shoulders as you settle into his lap. He holds the small of your back as you straddle him.

“Wanna try something.”

You say nothing. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel his fingertips grazing your jaw.

There’s a softness against your mouth. You don’t dare open your eyes.

You sense a sharp inhale behind the lips that kiss you, but they stay. Wetting between your mouth with the slight of a tongue. Tasting sweet like honeysuckle.

You whine, opening your mouth a bit more. You swallow down divinity. It's misguided affection that you had wished for when you were so much smaller. It might mean something bigger to you now if you thought about it for longer. You don’t want to. You refuse to.

But Satoru kisses you hard, excited and eager. His tongue peeks into your mouth and you taste strawberries. Lips soft and supple and melting against yours.

He groans, fisting your hair in his hand as he deepens the kiss, falling more and more into you. He smiles against your mouth as he coaxes a small sound out of you. It crawls out of your throat for him to taste with satisfaction. He’s always dreamed of you in his lap, but he could never tell you that.

You’re breathless, weak, and melting into him as he wraps his arms around you. Caging you in so that you can’t escape. So fucking warm in his embrace. 

It takes a second for you to notice the hardness growing underneath you. It prods your center as you mindlessly grind into Satoru’s lap. When you realize, you squeak in embarrassment, and he clutches you harder.

You sigh into each other, eating the other up. Heat surges through you, from your forehead down to your core, to your weak, sensitive legs. Hot from the feeling of him in your mouth. Hot from the proximity of your core to his.

You pull away, exhaling unevenly as you try to catch your breath. You’re shy under his gaze, unwrapping yourself and covering your body as if you’re naked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re so cute,” he chuckles. “Acting like that was your first kiss.”

“What if it was?”

He raises a brow as you look away with flushed cheeks. You’re still on his lap and he takes the opportunity to remind you of this, shifting you in his lap and causing friction. Your eyes are wide as you quickly attempt to untangle your limbs with his.

“That was your first kiss?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes at the sight of his leering smile. God, you knew this would happen. Satoru would never let you live it down.

“I’m going to kick you out—”

“No.” 

He grasps your wrist in his hand. It’s small compared to his palm, engulfing you. His other hand grips your hip firmly but softly. He only moves it to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

“How was it? Tell me.”

“Good,” you breathe. “Felt good.”

For the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you have invented something new. There’s a bit of astonishment. Wonder and admiration. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. You were easily deluding yourself with the expression of his sapphire blue eyes. 

“Felt good for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do that?” you ask, giggling nervously. 

“Just wanted to.”

“I want you to kiss me again,” you whisper.

“I want to do more than that,” Satoru mumbles. But he knows better. It’s the best decision for him to get you off his lap right now before he loses composure.

You both hear the sound of your front door opening as if it’s timed -- your mother. 

“I’ll kiss you later, okay?” Satoru murmurs.

“You will?”

“My parents will be gone this weekend. To Okinawa. You should come over on Saturday.”

“Okay. I will.”

[thelightsandtheroses]

when the rain washes you clean, you'll know

Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Secrets can’t stay hidden forever, not with these rainy days anyway … Warnings: 18+ blog, MDNI, secret relationship vibes, sexual tension, passing mentions of sexism and work, flangst (is it a lolabee fic without this?), copious references to rainy seasons and rain, poor communication, elements of rivalry if you squint maybe? Notes: This is my entry for the very lovely @undercoverpena’s April Showers challenge and I would like to thank this event for giving me some Javi P inspo. The fic title is from the brilliant Fleetwood Mac Dreams. Word Count: 2.7k

April brings the rain in Bogotá. You hear that in Cartagena, they get an extra month of dryness, but you’ve never minded water. You’re used to it.

If you were at your apartment now; with rain pitter pattering against glass windows, steaming coffee in your cup and a whole evening away from the office ahead of you, it would be better, you’d enjoy this moment. Instead, you’re desperately searching your handbag in the vain hope that this time around you will find an umbrella.

The embassy has a few umbrellas near the entrances and exits, but these have already been purloined by people leaving work before you. That will teach you to work late, to try and impress Messina again in vain.

This job isn’t what you expected. You wanted to expand your horizons, to do something wild and reckless with your life while you could. It seemed sensible to do this now, before mortgages and future commitments and expectations made it too difficult to be spontaneous.

The post in Colombia, working for Claudia Messina, seemed like a perfect opportunity. When you were told about it, all you could think was how it would certainly be a change from your small-town world and to learn from a woman rising in a male-dominated field was a dream, as well as a chance to stop the bad guys? You said yes almost automatically.

The reality is different to the images you’d let run wild in your mind. You’re not an active agent, you’re mostly doing translations, paperwork and shadowing Messina. The DEA’s office is dark and dank, illuminated by artificial bulbs and full of cigarette smoke. Your apartment is small and loud. Work takes so much of your time that you feel like you never explore this beautiful country or city and now it’s the wet season.

You feel like your adventure hasn’t yet started. It’s been weeks since you moved here and despite your best intentions, this isn’t what you had hoped for.

“Where are you parked?” a voice asks softly behind you. You turn around and see Agent Javier Peña - the source of most of your late nights of work as you try and untangle his messes or work on a better case for Messina to present.

When you had first joined the DEA office, one of the women in the office had taken you under her wing and shared the gossip and news about all of your new colleagues. She told you that Agent Peña has been in Colombia for years though, longer than most of the other active DEA agents.

He has a reputation. It’s all she’s needed to say to you about him.

Your few conversations with Javier have been professional, concise and fine. You’ve tried to notice his smile, the way he slightly changes his voice when he speaks to you, or any women. You refuse to be a notch in an already impressive bedpost, or to be the woman people talk about.

He might have a reputation, but from what you’ve heard, he’s one of the ‘good guys’. It lowers your guard; lets you point vaguely in the direction of your car. Javier smiles.

It’s a good smile. You can understand the rumours with a smile like that.

“We haven’t met, have we? I’m Javi” Five words. It takes only five words for Javier Peña to ruin everything. “I’d definitely remember seeing someone like you. Which uh, office are you in?”

You stand stonily silent, listening to the water running off the umbrella. Javier looks at you, brow furrowed as you extend the silence.

The rain does sound beautiful.

You open your car door and get in. Part of you wants to leave Javier right there, standing dumbfounded in the rain, his clothes getting damper by the second, the rain pouring over his stupid umbrella.

“I work for Messina, Peña, in the same damn office,” you say finally before slamming the door shut and starting your car engine.

“You changed your hair,” he says, hands on his hips defensively as he stands over your desk. “What’s your problem, Agent Peña?” “You changed your hair, that’s why I didn’t recognise you.” “Right.” You’re proud you manage to avoid physically rolling your eyes at his excuses. “It’s true,” he argues, shifting his position slightly. “Uh huh.” You remember that Colleen has boasted about him noticing her damn nail varnish so this feels weak at best so this hardly feels plausible, but as you look up you notice that Javi appears genuinely disturbed at your reaction. You take in his appearance further, now he’s not at the end of another busy day, isn’t fighting away rain in a damp suit and shirt, with curls peeking through his hair. Today he’s wearing a white shirt with a black pattern on it, his hair slightly scruffy, but moustache carefully sculpted. He smells like cologne and cigarettes. Sweet, woody notes trying to mask smoke and drawing you in like a siren’s song. “Look, this has been … delightful, but do excuse me, Agent Peña,” you say coolly, focusing on each syllable of his surname because you at least remember his name, at least you remember meeting him before yesterday. “I need to get back to work.” “Oh, well, please don’t let me keep you,” Javi replies with a sardonic tone, one eyebrow raised and his arms folded. “I shan’t.” You don’t move. “Must be very important work,” he says pleasantly, a slight smirk at your lack of movement. “Well, someone has to actually work around here,” you reply sweetly.

You don’t need to be a special agent to know that everybody has secrets. It’s a fact of life. There will always be things we keep from others, especially at work. Most of them will be mild and harmless, but some of them won’t be. It’s a constant.

There’s a reliability to this idea that perhaps you’re never getting the true person in front of you; just the shiny version that they want to project, the one that masks all the little secrets like they can’t quit smoking, or they drink milk straight from the carton.

It’s you too. You have a secret.

Your secret is wearing a light blue shirt today. Your secret is walking down the hallway arguing with his colleague. Your secret is the smell of cigarette smoke, whispered words and so much heat.

Your secret now is Agent Javier Peña.

He’s been your secret for weeks; weeks since the teasing banter developed into something else, to lingering touches, to kisses that you need like breathing and hands that map your body in a way you can hardly describe. You spent the month break from rainstorms in between yours and Javi’s apartments under the cover of night and cloud. Now it’s raining again, the wet season truly living up to its name.

Down in the DEA office, you can’t hear or see the rain outside. The windowless, dimly lit basement is a world away from the bustle of Bogota’s streets, yet somehow still is damp. Colombia’s wetness permeates through poorly maintained vents, through wet umbrellas in the bucket by the office door that hint at a world outside.

Steve and Javier are arguing. It’s not subtle, not a quiet disagreement between colleagues. It’s hands on hips, hands in the air, shaking heads and barely concealed curse words.

Maybe you should say something.

Or maybe not.

You try and return to your paperwork and the steaming mug of coffee you’ve been anticipating ever since your morning cup. There’s a coffee shop a few steps from your apartment building and you’ve finally convinced them to sell you some of their coffee blend. It’s not quite the same, but it’s close.

You think of breakfast this morning. The ghost of Javi’s lips on yours.

There’s a noise, a clearing of a throat and you look up to see Steve and Javi standing in front of your desk.

“Messina’s in meetings until five.”

“I know,” Javi says.

“It’s you, we want to speak to.”

You raise an eyebrow. Whatever this is between you and Javi relies on the two of you barely acknowledging one another in the office.

“You’re fluent in Spanish, right?” Steve asks directly.

You nod, still perplexed at how Steve’s Spanish is . “Why?”

“Firearm trained? You’re not just a desk jockey, right? You’re qualified?”

“Came third in my class.” You may have been a little higher if not for a terrible argument with your parents two days before your final exam. It hadn’t been your finest hour. You still carry it with you in every awkward phone call, every stilted letter home.

“Okay. That’s good. So, I don’t see the problem, Javi.”

“She came third. Who came first?’

“Really?” you ask incredulously, hurt and anger raging. How fucking dare he? You’ve told him about how hard it is to be taken seriously in the department, how the sexist roots prevail even with Messina in charge. Institutions can’t change overnight - they need people like you to fight them. Javi had emphasised, talked about his own barriers, the presumptions people had from his surname, his heritage.

He has the decency to look away, eyes abashed and fixated on the floor. Good, you think, that’s the very least he could do.

“I can get one of my informants -” No, you think, no, not one of Javi’s informants. You’ll do it, whatever Steve needs, surely you can do it instead?

“What do you need, Steve?”

This morning feels a world away now, but you let the memory take you away from this moment, from Javi’s inscrutable look when you said yes to Steve, from the fact you’re doing something this brave, this dangerous. You remember the coffee on the stove, its rich aroma seeping through the room as you wander out of Javi’s bedroom. Hands behind, wrapping around your wait and turning you around to meet his kiss. His hands move down your nightdress, teasing at the lacy hem as he moves them underneath. Laughing between kisses. “It’s raining,” you say. “I noticed,” he teases, tracing kisses down to your neck and then back up your jaw. “I think of you when it rains.” “Oh, yeah?” Javi stops for a second and looks at you quizzically. “Of how we got talking, of how we got from there, in that moment to here.” “Well ,I’ve never been more grateful to be caught in the rain.”

You’re starting to wonder if there was ever a time in Colombia that it wasn’t raining. The stormy clouds add to the greyness and foreboding of the street you’re currently parked in.

“Don’t,” Javi says quietly, the rain hitting the car windows and roof, echoing loudly around you. “Please don’t do this.”

You chance a look at him. “Do you not believe I can do this?” you ask, the concealed firearm heavy on your side, the wire Javi had put on feeling all to visible to you. He’d swallowed as he did it, featherlight fingers trying not to linger, you wondered if he was also trying not to default to the usual way he’d touch you.

“Oh, baby, I know you can.” Javi swallows. “But I want to be selfish and tell you not to do this. This isn’t a game, it’s not a drill -”

“I know that. I’ve been through the same training -”

“It’s different. You’ve not seen what I’ve seen.”

“I can handle it,” you reply simply.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Don’t be a sexist.”

“Don’t be so naive then, goddammit!”

“I’ve read the reports, studied the intel. I am not some naive ingenue here, Javi, fuck you for saying that. You made out I was stupid earlier, like I was some -”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear the apology is genuine.

You don’t reply, letting the rain speak for you instead. If you’re honest, you are nervous. This is your first undercover assignment and is so beyond the comfort and safety provided by your windowless desk.

It’s the job though, it’s what is needed.

“I’ve got this, Javi, whether or not you believe in me,”

“I do believe in you. I am sorry. I just - I don’t like it out here. I don’t like me out here, I don’t like who I am or who I become and I don’t - you’re still you. That’s part of what I love about you.”

You raise an eyebrow, meet Javi’s gaze. “Love, huh?”

You expect him to walk his words back, to huff or not say a word. He just shrugs.

“You ready?” Steve asks through the walkie talkie.

You nod before catching yourself, pressing the button and saying, “Yes, yeah, I’m ready and in position.”

“Okay, keep it to what we agreed, nothing else and keep it quick.”

Next to you, Javi looks at you pointedly, reinforcing Steve’s words.

“Understood,” you say and you can’t help but chance a smile at Javi as you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car.

Rain hitting your skin.

Your heart’s racing, it’s so loud you can feel it in your ears. The incessant beating and drumming of adrenaline coursing through your body.

You should be cold, but you’re not. Not as they load them into the van, as Steve pats you on the back to congratulate you on a job well done.

You wish your undercover persona was the type of woman who wore a coat on a rainy night. You wrap your arms around yourself.

You can still hear the gunshot. The shouts.

There’s a weight on your shoulder, the scent of cologne, cigarettes … Javi permeating through your haze.

He stands next to you, leaning against the wall, a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“I’m fine,” you say urgently.

“I know.”

“It’s just … a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought they had made me towards the end.”

Javi pauses, taking a long drag of his cigarette before offering you it. You accept it with surprisingly shaky hands.

“I did too,” he admits in a low voice.

“But they didn’t.”

“They didn’t.” Javi pauses. “You did great.”

“You haven’t.”

“I haven’t, what?” he asks playfully, turning to face you. In the dim streetlight, you notice each feature of his face, how it’s illuminated in yellow light and how deep brown his eyes really are. His brow is furrowed, hair slightly dishevelled in the way you normally associate with a good night, but you know from his bad days in the office is from running his hand through his hair too many times.

“Changed,” you say. “You said you don’t like who you become, but you’re you, Javi. I like you. All of you.”

“You say shit like that, I’m going to end up kissing you right here.”

“Dare you,” you tease.

He smirks. “I would,” he replies in a low voice.

“It’d be romantic, with the rain and all. Maybe less so with our colleagues around though. ”

“Is that what you want?”

“Do you?” It’s the first time the two of you have broached this subject. For months, you’ve existed in peace with the parts of Javi he can give you out of an assumption that was all that he could offer. Today seems to have changed things though.

Javi swallows.

“Take away the job, or who you’re hunting, take it all away for a moment. Would you want - would you want to be with me like that?”

“If we were in Texas, if none of this was going on, then nothing would stop me.”

“I’ve never been to Texas,” you muse.

“When this is over, we can go,” Javi says and the vulnerability in his eyes is so alien.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Looks like it’s still raining,” Javi says, noticing your attention at the view outside.

“Yep,” you say, “I suppose we should head back to everyone else, right? Finish the paperwork?”

“I didn’t say it this morning, but I think of you too. When it rains, I always think of you.”

Tag List

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Baby Fever [Emily x Reader]

Photo Credits Left and Right (@meditando-en-paris) Center (@emily12o1970)

Prompt: The reader asks Emily if she wants to have a baby together. While this is a surprise, Emily has a little question of her own for the reader.

Pairing: [established relationship] Emily x Non-BAU!reader. The Reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: fluff/comfort

Word Count: 6.8K

Content Warnings: Slight angst, talk of getting pregnant, food and alcohol are mentioned, implied intimacy, discussion of politics. If I missed any, please let me know.  

A/N: Hi all! I’m so sorry it’s been a while since I’ve posted any fics in a while. The end of the semester has been wildly busy. However, I return with an Emily fic for @imagining-in-the-margins March and April writing challenge. I made my own prompt that is, a member of the couple isn’t sure they’ll make a good parent; they are reassured by a friend that they will be perfect. This is a continuation of my Moschino and Muddy Water series. You can find parts one, two, three, and four here (linked) You can read this as a stand-alone as well, you just need to know the reader works for a senator. This story kind of humbled me and challenged me as it took a long time to write and I needed to do lots of edits on it. But that is a good reminder for me. Writing can be hard, but it is worth the result to see you can come what you can come up with. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/s/t = your skin tone 

_y/f/s_ = your favorite scent

Emily walked into the living room of her apartment. y/n and she had recently repainted it a neutral beige that Derek had described as “sad sand” at brunch with Penelope, Spencer, JJ, and Will last month. y/n had nearly choked on her drink as he made the remark. It had been y/n’s idea to repaint their space to a more relaxing color. When y/n had suggested it, Emily had said, “Oh, what brought this on lover? Wasn’t it you last week who mentioned the security deposit on this place?” Em liked teasing y/n about these things because y/n was always a little more impulsive about things. Their dynamic remained light despite the hectic nature of their jobs. The ability to relax and joke in their off time kept both y/n and Prentiss sane. However, they were good at reading each other, most of the time. When things felt heavy or the job was pushing them to the edge of a breakdown, the jokes and teasing went out the window. 

Only once had y/n made a joke in poor taste about a case that Emily had not yet fully described, and the tall brunette had snapped. y/n had looked at her girlfriend with shock. Prentiss never spoke to her in this tone nor with the angry expression she had on her face. The silence in the room after Emily's outburst was deafening. Emily instantly felt guilty for how she had reacted. Prentiss cleared her throat and tried to apologize, but y/n said, “Save it. I need a minute.” y/n had moved back to their room and closed the door, and burst into tears. ‘A minute’ turned out to be a long sleepless night for the couple. y/n tossed and turned and wondered if she was overreacting and what she had missed about Emily when she came in with her go-bag. She had seemed fine to y/n as she came in with a smile and normal attitude. Meanwhile on the couch, Emily wondered why she had reacted with such venom. y/n was only trying to lighten the mood, and she hadn’t said how horrible she felt. If she had, Emily knew y/n would hug her and kiss her and make her feel better inside of cracking a joke. Prentiss sat up and looked out the open window onto to the street as a few cars drove by. Emily wondered what brought those driving out so late. Who were they and where they were going? She wondered if they were happy. She slumped back into the couch cushions and missed the warmth of y/n’s snuggled up in front of her and the cool feel of their sheets over them. 

In the morning, both Em and y/n had gotten up at the same time. Prentiss moved into their room which she found unlocked. y/n looked up at her. Em could see that she had been crying and the lack of sleep on y/n’s face. Before Prentiss could say anything, y/n stated, “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m sorry for how I acted. Immature and like a child. You didn’t deserve that.” Emily dropped her head and replied, “I’m sorry too. It was wrong of me to shout at you like that. You were just trying to make me happy.” y/n swallowed and said, “I was, but I must have been missing something. Would you tell me about the case, or what caused you to act like that?” 

Prentiss nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed taking y/n’s hand in hers. “Yes. Let me explain. Thank you for giving me the time and care to listen.” After a long conversation, the pair set up some boundaries about not keeping things inside after cases for Emily and taking time to check in after she got home for y/n. y/n knew Emily had been acting okay, but in reality, she wasn't. y/n noted that if she was in Emily’s shoes, she might want to laugh after work and a case and y/n thought Emily might feel the same way. So after they had talked and kissed and made up, they both felt a bit crusty and decided to take a shower together. 

It felt wonderful as Emily’s strong hands moved down her y/s/t’ed shoulders and back. The soap suds moved down y/n’s back and Prentiss rubbed them over her lush behind and thighs. y/n sighed into the touch. When Emily had finished rinsing y/n off, y/n turned and had Em face the water. y/n placed a dollop of her shampoo that smelled of rose and juniper berry in her palm. Prentiss smiled as y/n’s fingers brushed through her silky dark strands of hair massaging her scalp and then making sure that all of her locks were coated in shampoo before turning Em to rinse off her shoulder-length hair. After a few more minutes the water started running tepid, and y/n and Emily got out and dried off. They spent the rest of the Saturday morning lounging around and getting coffee from the fancy place two blocks over. It felt lovely to be back and not have an argument hanging over them. As y/n opened the door for Prentiss, she thought about how they worked together. They had their moments and arguments like any couple, but all in all, they were steady. It seemed that steady was something new to both of them, and it made them happy and secure in one another. It had made y/n so happy and secure that it had got her thinking about roots, about the future. 

A few weeks later, y/n woke up early and realized that Emily was up. She snapped her laptop shut. The sound had Em turn around and look at y/n with just a hint of concern in her dark eyes. y/n smiled and got out of her seat saying, “Good morning, baby. How did you sleep?” Emily’s face broke into a soft smile and she replied, “I slept well. I love it when you’re the big spoon. It makes me sleep like a baby.” y/n got up and wrapped Em in a hug and whispered in her ear, “Well, I’ll have to do that more often then.” y/n inhaled her smell and tried to hide the blush on her face before pulling back and saying, “Do you want some breakfast and coffee? Or maybe a mimosa. I feel like cooking something if you want.” Prentiss nodded and said, “I think I could go for some blueberry or chocolate chip waffles if you’re down to make them.” y/n nodded and replied, “Of course. What are we feeling for drinks?” Em let out a small laugh and said, “Well, how about I make us lattes and you pop open some prosecco? We’ve still got juice in the fridge too. I’ll get the glasses.” y/n nodded knowing that Emily didn’t like popping corks --  a quirk that y/n thought was so cute. Em turned away to get the fluted glasses for the mimosas and while her back was turned she considered how y/n had been acting the last few days. It was like she was holding some secret. When y/n’s computer was in front of her, y/n always seemed to close it quickly or move it so she couldn’t see the screen. It wasn’t only that. Sometimes she was on the phone and talking quietly to someone she didn’t know. The pit in Emily’s stomach grew. And yet when she looked back at y/n who was humming her new favorite song while pulling eggs out from the middle row of the fridge. 

This was so unlike y/n to hide things from her. When it had first happened, Emily thought that maybe y/n was cheating but that wasn’t something that y/n would do unless she had really misread her girlfriend and their relationship wasn’t going anywhere. This bothered Prentiss because she was planning on asking y/n to marry her in a month on their second anniversary. Even if things weren’t good with them, which y/n’s behavior indicated otherwise, Prentiss was uncomfortable with y/n hiding things from her. Em had a good way of feeling out people, and y/n had seemed more excited to be with her recently, so all of the messages both verbal and nonverbal were throwing her for a loop. Prentiss was going to talk to JJ and Penelope about it on Monday to see if they had any insight into what was going on. At this point, y/n and the rest of the girls on the BAU were thick as blood. Em took a breath and decided to not let her self-doubt ruin their relationship. She had let that happen before, and even though it had turned out to be a good thing, Emily didn’t want to do that here. She loved y/n, and she knew y/n loved her. If y/n needed to tell her something, Emily knew she would, even if it was something difficult to hear. Prentiss fixed her face and took a breath before setting the glasses on the counter for y/n who leaned in and gave her a kiss before she moved to the coffee maker. 

y/n started mixing up the waffle batter. y/n didn’t like keeping things from Emily, but this was such a big subject to even bring up, and she wanted to have all of the facts beforehand. Not so that she could try and argue her point with Emily, but so she was sure it was what she wanted. But the more y/n looked at their options of getting pregnant, the firmer y/n was about her desire to start a family with Em. It was a conversation they had had before. A shared desire to have kids and raise them in a house full of love and tenderness that neither y/n nor Emily had had as children growing up on opposite sides of the globe. So the topic of wanting kids wouldn’t be a shock, just how quickly y/n was bringing it up. And if Emily said she needed more time, y/n would wait, but she couldn’t deny that her baby fever was growing thanks to JJ’s pregnancy and some recent laws passing. The whole idea made y/n’s stomach flutter in both delight and worry. Thankfully y/n was almost ready to tell Em, and again there would be no secrets to hold, just a future to plan, whatever that looked like for them. 

         The following Monday at work, Emily found Penelope in her office with its room full of screens and trinkets. Prentiss smiled at how Garcia’s personality shone through wherever she was. Em found the tech whizz inspirational in that way and many others. Garcia was busy typing something on her laptop and Emily had called her name twice already. Without any other options apart from pulling the plug on one of Penelope's babies, Emily tapped her on the shoulder instead. The genius shot out of her seat and Prentiss was eternally grateful that Gacria wasn’t holding one of her large cups of soda. “My God Emily, are you trying to get me out of my skin?” Penelope retorted when she had caught her breath. Em smiled and said, “It was that, or pull the plug on your computer. I thought you’d appreciate the latter. I did call your name twice.” Garcia let out a shaky laugh and said, “Okay, well lord, I have to stop listening to music so loud when I’m at work. Hotch got mad at me for it once already and somehow he’s always right because I don’t want to be scared like that again. So what brings you to my cave today dear? Need me to cast a love spell on you?” Prentiss laughed and replied, “Well I’m okay on that front. A clarification spell might be more in order. Are you back on the RPG game again?” Garcia blushed and said, “Maybe, maybe not. Anyhow, does the team need my presence?” Em nodded her head no, sat down on the ledge of Penelope's table, and said, “Not right now. I was just wondering if y/n had talked to you recently. She’s been acting kind of strange in the last three weeks and I just wanted to know if she has something planned?” 

Penelope was buzzing in her seat because she had an answer but had promised y/n that she wouldn’t say anything to Emily about it. y/n had discreetly asked around the office if anyone knew someone who had IVF treatments before and would be willing to talk candidly about the process, how much it cost, and the pros and cons of the procedure. The only other person who did know someone who had gone through In Vitro Fertilization was Rossi, but Dave didn’t think that person would want to discuss such an intimate part of their lives with a stranger, even if it was a friend of his. However, Penelope had a good friend named Shayla back from her college days who was now a happy single mom and had moved to the Virginia area last year for a new job with her little boy. y/n had met Shayla once before, and when Garcia brought her up as a possibility, y/n almost begged her to ask Shayla if she was comfortable talking about the long process. When Pen brought it up in their next catch-up call, Shayla happily agreed to share her knowledge. She had done plenty of research before deciding to move forward with having a child on her own, understood the great sacrifice and fears that could come with it, and was happy to give any helpful information she had. Of course, this conversation had prompted Penelope to ask y/n why she was asking and y/n had revealed that she was thinking of asking Emily to have a baby with her. Garcia had freaked out, jumping up and down in excitement. y/n had to stop her from running out of the room and shouting at anyone that her friend was getting pregnant. Once the blonde analyst had settled down, y/n took a breath and said, “Now Penelope. I know you’re excited but I’m just in the research stage which sounds calculated when I put it like that, I haven’t told Emily about this yet and I need to be sure I feel confident before I spring this on her. Could you please please, please not tell her?” Garcia nodded seriously and said, “My lips are sealed. I pinky promise.” y/n let out a sigh of relief. 

But as Garcia was faced with Emily now, it wasn’t as easy as telling y/n her secret was safe. It was threatening to burst out of her seams and she needed to come up with an excuse fast or risk losing a dear friend in y/n. Penelope cleared her throat and said, “Hey, Em. I kinda stayed up all night playing that game and well as you can see I’m running numbers for Stan’s team….” She gave her best pleading eyes that seemed to work on everyone. Prentiss let out a soft laugh and replied, “Alright, What flavor do you want grape, Cola, or orange?” Pen smiled brightly and said, “Orange, please. You are a lifesaver!” Emily patted her on the top of her blond head and said, “Well just hope Hotch or JJ doesn’t call a new case while I’m gone. You should get someone to install controls or something on your system at home to stop you from staying up twenty-four-seven.” Garica scoffed, looked at Emily’s retreating form, and said, “Baby, if anyone could crack into my harddrive, I’d let them.” As Emily moved out of the office and toward the 7-11 to get Penelope’s soda, she felt relieved. Not that she fully believed nothing was happening with y/n, but if the team hadn’t noticed anything, then, it made her feel better. Once Emily was out of sight, Penelope whipped out her phone and texted y/n: “Emily is asking questions, baby girl. I’d start thinking about asking her soon or she might find out what you’re doing.” 

The week moved by quickly with lots of paperwork for Emily and the start of a new campaign cycle for y/n who moaned about it as much as possible without being annoying to Em. It didn’t help that the senator y/n worked with had gotten themselves into another scandal that was rocking their office and party. When y/n was going on a rant about corruption on Friday night Emily hugged her from behind, kissed her temple, and said, “I’m sorry sweetheart. I know it’s annoying, but you're good at your job even if it’s a bad system. But that doesn’t make you bad.” y/n relaxed into Prentiss’s embrace. y/n let out a sigh and said, “I’m sorry for going off. I know it’s annoying.” Emily nuzzled her face into y/n’s neck to relax her further as she whispered, “Don’t apologize y/n. Work can be agonizing sometimes, I know that as much as anyone. If it bothers me I'll tell you. Now, how about we do something fun tomorrow? We could get brunch at that place we like in midtown. You know the place where you asked me out officially?” y/n’s face broke out into a smile and she said, “I’d love that Em. Sorry if I’ve been a little distant right now. I’ve been thinking about some things and I want to share them with you in the morning. It’s nothing bad or anything, but something I just want to discuss with you. You’re everything to me love, and I’m so happy we’re together.” Prentiss’s heart fluttered knowing that y/n was finally going to tell her what was going on. Her words were reassuring, that it ‘wasn't’ bad’ or ‘anything bad about her,’ but even so, her nerves sang inside as they both headed to bed. 

In the morning, y/n woke up slightly early for a Saturday and got into a hot shower. She washed her body in _y/f/s_ed body wash. She then moved to her hair and shampooed and conditioned it. Lastly y/n shaved so her legs were smooth. When she stepped out of the shower, Emily was up. y/n walked into their room in a towel, and Em looked up from the bed, Her brown eyes got wider and she said, “Well, good morning, love?” y/n smiled and said, “Morning sweetheart.” y/n dropped her towel, and lazily crawled on the bed. Emily followed her with her eyes and her tongue slipped out of her mouth and wetted her lower lip subconsciously. y/n grinned and moved over Emily’s body and kissed her gently at first and then with more passion. Em snaked her hands around y/n’s hips. Once y/n’s tongue was slipped into Emily’s mouth, her fingers moved to y/n’s hair and tugged it gently at the root. After y/n and Prentiss were desperate for air, y/n pulled away and moved onto her knees before saying, “Maybe we should get dressed or we’ll miss brunch sweetheart.” Emily whined and said, “Do we have to?” y/n laughed and replied, “I think so. I’m in need of a good mimosa and waffle. Plus, we can get right back to this when we get back if we want.” Emily sat up and brushed her thumb over y/n’s jaw before saying, “Alright love. Give me a few minutes to get ready and we can go. It’s good if we go sooner though because you know how crazy that place gets after 11:00.” y/n nodded in agreement as she moved to the closet to pick out a spring dress and some matching jewelry while Emily used the bathroom and vanity to get ready. Emily chose a pink jumpsuit that fit her curves perfectly and was strapless showing off her lovely shoulders and neck. 

y/n and Emily got to the restaurant before the big rush and were seated outside at a quiet corner table surrounded by a fence and hedge that gave the space a cool and calm feeling away from the bustle inside and the rush of cars outside. A waiter came and got their drink orders and while he was there, Emily and y/n also ordered pain au chocolat. Emily got a glass of white wine and y/n got a pomegranate mimosa, and they both got coffee. The lean man noted what they wanted and moved away. The wait time at this spot was longer giving people time to relax and talk. y/n looked at Emily wondering if she should start the conversation. Emily returned y/n’s smile, her face looking radiant in the glow of the midmorning sun. Prentiss shifted in her seat and said, “You’ve been looking so happy the last few days. Whatever it is you have to tell me I just want to say I’m so happy to see you like this. I wish every day could be like this. That there wasn’t the stress or worry of our jobs looming over us. But you make me feel safe and seen every day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Once Emily said the words aloud, the idea in her head sprang so full and bright that she felt like she might be bowled over by a small breeze. The idea had been there for a few months but she hadn’t planned it. Certainly hadn’t even dreamed of it being like this, but it felt so right. When she looked over at y/n who was clearly saying something, Emily thought for a brief moment that she might be looking at the sun, blinding it it’s light and radiance. Prentiss cleared her throat and mind and finally heard y/n repeat, “Are you alright darling? You were in your own world there for a second.” Emily nodded now knowing what she was going to do and said, “Yeah I’m good. I just had an idea. So I suppose I have something to tell you too. But you go first. What was it you were wanting to tell me today that you’ve been so secretive about?” y/n blushed and felt better now that they both were going to say something, though she had no idea what Emily had up her sleeve. y/n replied, “Well why don’t you go first.” Prentiss shot back teasingly, “No you first.” They repeated this one more time before they both blurted out at the same time: 

“I want to have a baby with you.” 

“I want to marry you.” 

When Emily and y/n both registered what the other had said they were stunned into silence. y/n felt her chest tighten with emotions that threatened to bubble over. She composed herself first and asked in awe, “Emily Prentiss, are you proposing to me right now?” Emily took a shallow breath in at what y/n had said about wanting a baby and y/n’s question and, she said, “I am, sweetheart. It just felt right right now. I don’t want to spend another day without you being mine in the most real way possible. Time just goes by so fast and as soon as we know it we’ll both be grey and have bad knees. We’re both gone so often from each other so I’d like you to be mine if you’re willing to be. y/n, will you marry me?” Emily got out of her chair and onto one knee. Again she was glad they were in a quieter part of the restaurant. y/n nodded her head yes and fell to her knees next to Em embracing her in a hug and saying, “Yes, Oh of course I will. I love you so much, I want my whole life with you.” They both stayed there for a moment on the brick floor before Emily raised her head from y/n’s shoulder wiping her own eyes of the salty liquid at her corneas before pulling back and helping y/n to her feet. They hugged properly with a tight embrace that said they would never be apart for longer than they had to be, and even when they were apart, they would still be together. Em pulled back and said, “I’m sorry I don’t have a ring for you, but it just felt right to ask you now. I promise I’ll get you one that’s just perfect.” y/n smiled and said, “I know whatever you pick out will be perfect love.” She leaned in and planted her mouth on Emily’s and they both let go of each other with a feeling of lightness and ecstasy that neither had expected this morning in bed. Just as they both sat down, the waiter returned with their pastries and drinks on a tray. He set all the plates and glasses down and said he’d be back in a bit to see if they needed anything else. 

Once he had gone, y/n and Emily raised their glasses to their engagement and y/n said, “To the best fiance I could ever ask for!” As they clinked glasses Em added, “And to my favorite person in the whole world.” They both took sips of their drinks and what y/n had said resurfaced to the front of Prentiss’s mind after the euphoria of y/n saying yes to her proposal dimmed slightly. Em leaned forward and asked, “y/n you want to have a baby?” y/n flushed and nodded sheepishly. Suddenly talking to Emily about this made her feel nervous. With a steadying breath y/n replied, “Not just a baby Em. I want to have your baby. I’ve been researching reciprocal IVF. Looking up what the procedure is like for both parties, how expensive it is, and where there are clinics nearby that we could visit and consult with. I even went as far as talking to some people who’ve done it before to see how their experience was for them. That’s what I’ve been researching for the last few weeks. And I know this sounds so fast. Like I’m rushing. I don’t mean to pressure you into making a choice now or next week or month or even year. I just want you to know that I’d love to build a life with you. A life that might include children in the future if that’s something you're interested in. I just wanted to have all the facts I could about what that would possibly be like before springing something this big on you” Emily absorbed the information and took a sip of her drink. She said with a smile, “Look at you doing your research. Not that you don’t research, but I think we’re rubbing off on each other. You’re making me more comfortable in making big moves like proposing while I’m making you research a topic as much as possible.” y/n laughed and said, “Well, I guess that makes us pretty compatible, huh.” Emily chuckled and continued to think about what y/n had just said. 

It wasn’t something they had talked about recently, but children was a topic of discussion they had had and it made Emily relieved to know that y/n left that secure in their relationship that it was something she was seriously thinking about. Now that they were engaged, it only made more sense, even though y/n couldn’t have known that coming into today. For a moment Emily pictured y/n cradling their baby, and then a toddler running around their apartment, and the child grown up and going off to school. Prentiss pulled herself from the film playing in her head. As lovely an image as it was, it was a lot to think about. She lifted her eyes up to y/n’s nervous gaze. Prentiss moved her right hand to y/n’s and held it across the table saying, “I think that’s a beautiful idea y/n. It is a lot to think about. I do appreciate that you’re comfortable enough to tell me something that’s really important to you. Would you mind if I give it some time to think through?” y/n squeezed Emily’s palm and replied, “Take all the time you need love. There’s no rush.” Prentiss felt a surge of warmth move through her not associated with the fact that she was sitting in the sun. Having someone as passionate and who understood her so well was the best thing that could have happened to her. Emily did wonder if something had prompted y/n into her desire for children. She’d never been one to have baby fever before now and the shift was interesting to her. 

Emily watched y/n sip her drink and relax in her chair a bit. Prentiss asked, “Sweetheart, what sparked your desire for kids if anything? Or did it just sort of happen?” y/n sighed and said, “It’s been coming for a while I think, but things have made it speed up for me I suppose.” Emily nodded her head as if to say, “Keep going, love.” y/n placed her palms flat on the table and continued, “I guess that so much crazy stuff has been happening in the country recently. I know you know that. We both do as we work in the government, but the upturning of Roe V. Wade and all the crazy abortion bans popping up all over the place. I suppose I just don’t want to be too late. Like one day we both decided it was time and by then we didn’t even have that option. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic or to push you in any way, we have time, it’s just made me prioritize some things in my life that I hadn’t given too much thought to before now. I mean if Alabama can almost stop IVF then I’m afraid of what might come after that. I suppose having a child became more important to me the more things like that happen here.” 

Emily gave a soft smile, she could more fully see where y/n was coming from and it made sense with her personality. Em moved her hand across the table and stroked her cheek gently before saying, “That makes sense darling. I’m going to have to think about it for a while before we do anything, but maybe when we get home, you can tell me a bit more about the process, and the cost. If we commit to something like this we’re going to need to be saving for some time.” y/n chuckled and said, “Take all the time you need darling. We can save money for that and a wedding too.” Emily paused and said, “Do you mind if I don’t tell the team right away about the engagement? I just want to get a ring and have it be a bit more put together because once I tell them, we’re going to be swamped with questions from JJ, Garcia, and Rossi.” y/n snorted and covered her mouth at how accurate Emily was. She could picture that conversation happening and how Garica would pounce on Em and then how she’d get ten calls for Penelope and then some texts and another call from Dave congratulating her. Since y/n had gotten to know the team more, Rossi had become a father figure which made her heart warm. y/n replied, “Yes, of course sweetheart. That will be a day to remember. Almost as exciting as getting to say yes to you Mrs. Prentiss.” 

Shortly after this their waiter came back and got them a second round of drinks and they ordered some plates to share. The weekend flew by as always, and Emily showed up at Quantico with an excited air about her. The team slowly rolled into the bullpen on work days like they normally did. Em and JJ passed through security at the same time, and JJ who was now very pregnant asked Prentiss, “You seem preoccupied today. Is something up?” Emily tried to stay cool and said, “Nope, well apart from the fact that y/n and I had a late night last night.” Em gave JJ a wink and JJ shot her a sly smile replying, “Well that would make you pretty tired I suppose.” Emily laughed and the two women moved up to their floor. Prentiss hadn’t been lying about y/n and her last night. They’d spent a few pleasurable hours both in the shower and the bed solidifying their bond. Telling one truth and omitting two others felt better than a flat-out lie. Emily was a mix of emotions today and it did make her feel and perhaps look different which she was trying to hide. She was incredibly happy about the unofficial engagement but nervous about y/n’s question. It was more than a question, it was a whole new part of their life if they pursued it. Emily spent a good deal of the morning telling Spencer and Penelope that nothing was wrong and that she was fine but tired. Even Aaron gave her a look saying that he knew something was up. But Hotch didn’t always have the time for gossip and he trusted and knew Em enough that if she was having a serious problem, she could come to him anytime night or day. By lunch time, Prentiss felt a little bit more emotionally drained than she had coming into work. She hardly noticed Derek sneak in behind her to use the microwave when her leftover pasta was finished reheating. 

Morgan said over the hum of the microwave, “So you told Spence and Garcia everything is fine and you gave Hotch that look that it’s all cool and they left you alone, but you're one of the most put-together people on the team and something is off. Keeping secrets is a burden and I’d think you’d like at least one person to know what’s playing in your mind on repeat. Listen if we go on a case or something then it might make you slower. Would you please tell me what’s going on? I won’t tell anyone else. You know I’m also good at keeping a secret.” Derek’s appearance startled Emily, and she jumped at his first few words but calmed quickly as she listened more intently to what he was saying. She bit the inside of her lip. The problem was she knew Derek was right and somehow that bothered her. However, Morgan would be as good a person to tell as any. Their bond was strong, but not as interwoven as the rest of the team. And he was good at keeping quiet. Prentiss deflated slightly and decided to be honest with Derek saying, “Okay but this stays between us, please?” Morgan nodded his consent and indicated for Em to continue. Emily thought of the proposal but knew the issue that was bugging her was what she should say. Finally, she stated, with a slow caution, “y/n wants to have a baby with me.” 

That response was far from what Derek had been expecting, and he blinked a few times just to ensure he’d heard correctly. Slowly a smile crept to his face replying, “That’s amazing, Em!” Emily nodded lightly and Derek was confused as to why she wasn’t showing the same joy he was. He cleared his throat lightly and asked, “Do you not want that Emily?” Prentiss let out a long sigh and said what she’d been thinking about since last night: “I do think I want kids in time. And y/n and I have talked about that before now. We talked about it before we became serious.” Derek was confused by her hesitation and asked, “Is y/n like, rushing you into this?” Emily nodded no and replied, “No not at all. She knows me too well for that. She did a bunch of research beforehand and told me there wasn’t any rush. And also that if kids wasn’t something I was interested in she and I could talk about it.” This reply left Derek even more confused and he scratched the back of his head. Finally, Morgan asked, “So, why are you upset exactly?” Em came out with it and said, “What if I’m a bad mom? I can see y/n being the most loving and caring parent in the world, but my track history with my mother just doesn’t indicate that I’m going to be that competent a parent.” 

When Emily got to the point of contention, Derek couldn’t help but chuckle, and Prentiss lightly slapped his board arm and said, “Don’t laugh at me, Morgan.” Derek managed to stop his chuckling and say, “I’m mainly laughing at your wording, Em. I don’t think any parent would say they are ‘competent.’ And if you’re going to question me on that, ask Hotch if he thinks he’s a competent parent with Jack or JJ with her baby. I swear no one has it all figured out.” Emily was still hesitant and Derek continued, “Emily no matter what you decide it’s going to be the right thing. I know you and y/n won’t jump into anything, but if you ask me, I think you’ll make a fantastic parent.” Emily could tell that Morgan was no longer joking and she asked, “Why do you say that?” She was genuinely curious to hear how he would answer. Morgan leaned against the wall and replied, “Well you could just call it intuition, but the other sign to me is how in tune with yourself and y/n you are. You notice things about everyone, especially y/n. If you decide to have a kid together that will be the most loved child ever. You may not have it all figured out, but with how much you care about each other, I know you and y/n will figure out the rest. You’ll be a great Mom Em.” Emily felt her heart warm slightly and the original image of a child running around her and y/n’s apartment, or the park, or a variety of other idyllic scenes came back in a rush. She knew this wasn’t always going to be the reality, but she felt encouraged and replied to Morgan, “Thanks, Derek. I appreciate that. And thanks for letting me ramble.” Derek smiled again and was happy to see Emily happy. He said, “You got it Em. And my lips are sealed.” Emily felt much better the rest of the day having one person know what she was thinking about. It helped so much that after she had talked about it, she found it much easier to work. 

It was a few weeks later as Prentiss had found the right ring for y/n, and she and y/n had talked about breaking that set of news to the team that Emily came up behind y/n who was standing at the kitchen counter. Prentiss hugged y/n gently from behind and said softly in her ear, “y/n, I want to try. I want to try for a baby with you.” y/n froze and then turned around slowly in Emily’s arms and said, “Really?” Emily nodded and replied, “Really baby. I want some time before we go for it, but I want to be with you.” y/n felt her eyes well with tears of happiness. Her life had felt so empty and barren before she met Emily. Now life felt so full. She was getting married to the best woman ever, and they were planning a family. A lot was yet to come in their journey, but for now, everything was perfect. As the tears started rolling, y/n mouthed, “I love you so, so much Emily,” as she leaned in with her tear-stained face and kissed Em with all the love she could give. Emily wrapped her arms around y/n and kissed her back. Yes, time went quickly, but together they would make the most of every minute there was between them and the family they were planning.

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[leveloneandup]

For Christen Press, the Joy is in the Journey

Progress isn’t perfect.

That’s been Christen Press’s motto over the 781 days since she last played in a soccer match—and not just when it comes to her recovery from the ACL tear she sustained in June, 2022, but also when thinking about life as a whole.

“You have to accept that things won’t go the way you think they will, but maybe they’ll go better,” she explains. “Progress isn’t linear. It’s up and down and back and forth. But in that movement there’s more than what you ever imagined. So the imperfection—the struggle, the setbacks—those are actually the greatest gifts as you get to learn about yourself and you have the chance to grow.”

Press has had more than her share of setbacks over the last two years, as an initial surgery turned into two, then three, and finally four.

“I think every single time that I was told I’d have to have surgery, from the first ACL reconstruction and the three scopes that I had, I always thought I would be on the quickest timeline possible,” said Press when she returned to Angel City training in June. “I think that's part of who I am. I'm just relentlessly optimistic. I'm naively positive, and just thinking that everything's going to work out for me—and I never want that to change, you know? And I got off course of all of those timelines so many times that I finally had to actually relinquish that expectation of myself.”

In her two years off the field, Press says she’s grown and healed in more ways than just physically, but the goal was always to return, even if that possibility felt far off at times.

“I never thought about giving up,” says Press, “but there were moments that I thought I’d have to accept that I wouldn’t make it—or that ‘making it’ might not look how I expected.”

One of the hardest things about this process has been accepting that the outcome was not fully under her control. “I’m able to do a lot of suffering for success, and I’ve been that way since I was a child,” she says. “The question I had to answer was how to accept and be open to things I cannot control.”

Press had access to the best medical and rehabilitation care in the business—first at the Meyer Institute of Sports, an El Segundo rehab and performance facility specializing in elite athletes, and then with Angel City’s training staff, including VP of Medical and Performance Sarah Smith, Head Athletic Trainer Manny De Alba, Head of Sports Science Dan Jones, Director of Rehabilitation Sarah Neal, Performance Coach Michael Roman, Assistant Athletic Trainer April Seymon, and Senior Physical Therapist Joscelyn Shumate Bourne.

Ultimately, bodies don’t always heal the way we hope they will. All she could do was show up every day and try her best.

“I had to make decisions that centered my well being and full personhood,” she says. “To start to find my inherent value outside of excellence in the pitch.”

In part, that meant finding joy in other areas of life. She worked on her business, re–Inc, including starting a podcast with (business and life) partner Tobin Heath, initially focusing on the 2023 World Cup, then branching out to cover women’s soccer more generally. She went to the beach. She spent time with family.

In some ways, this time away from the game Press loves has been freeing. “The last two years have been the first of my career that I wasn’t evaluated on my performance,” she says. “I showed up for PT every day with a smile on my face and gave max effort. That’s all I had to do.”

Press’s return comes at a perfect time for the club: they’ve begun to build momentum with two convincing Summer Cup wins, against Club América and Bay FC, as they look ahead to the back half of the regular season. Playoffs are still well within reach heading into this stretch, a fact that Press’s return can only make more tangible.

“Her quality is inevitable,” says First Assistant Coach Eleri Earnshaw. “Last week in training, she scored a couple of goals that we haven't seen anyone else do yet this season in training.”

Returning to play after such a long hiatus isn’t easy for anyone, but Earnshaw says there’s a point the coaching staff have emphasized both to Press and to other injured players eyeing a return to the field: “your ability doesn't change overnight,” she says. “There are some things that just stay with you. Her chance creation, her separation from defenders—you’ve got to be in the right physical and mental place to be able to perform those things, to be confident to do it, but she is building those things up every day.”

“If we can get that quality onto the pitch for any number of minutes, great,” she concludes.

As Press anticipates her return to what she calls “the real world of professional sports”—one “filled with stress and pressure and often angst,” as she puts it—she’s going in with a fresh perspective.

“I’m determined to enjoy it,” she says. “I know who I am as a player and person, and I see this opportunity as a chance to do what I love. I told my teammates today: football is a miracle. It’s a miracle we get to do the thing we love.”

[aloysiavirgata]

Some kinky/m-rated post-revival headcanons for msr, please?? ☺️

1. Her moisturizer is obnoxiously expensive. It comes in a fancy little purple jar that he always winces at seeing in the recycle bin because he feels as though even the empty vessel must be worth money that he does not need.

Scully runs her fingers down her Vespucci throat, fingers slick with obscure polymers, and he remembers why he doesn’t care.

“Can I help you?” she asks, massaging nightingale shit or snail venom or some other unholy thing into those impossible cheekbones. Into eyelids taut and fine as dew-jeweled spiderwebs. Watching him in her Edwardian silver-glass mirror through lashes like opera curtain fringe.

Decades of touching her, but he cannot say she has skin like the finest vellum without sounding like Ed Gein. He cannot say, “I want to bite your calla-lily throat until it bruises into a violet,” without sounding like Ted Bundy.

“Nothing,” he says, his lip between his teeth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your ablutions.”

He bites at his tongue like a cherry in April, almost ripened but not quite. He twitches a little in his faded yellow pants, twitches and considers, but isn’t fully hard yet.

Scully watches him in the mirror. Runs lotion between her high, bare breasts with her Rodin hands; studies him with her tourmaline eyes.

***

2. His forearms. She fell in love with restrained sexuality - no. No, she had a concept of it after she watched Casablanca one afternoon home from school with a stomach bug. Catholic girls fall in love with restrained sexuality very young, only they don’t know it. They iron their kilts and they pray and they confess to all the wrong sins. They fall in love with dark wool blazers and satin ribbons and the brave wilted starch of hand-me-down blouses.

The muscles below his elbows, woven like a braid. Like a scourge.

He’s past sixty. He’s past sixty and if she’d met him now at the same age she was then she still would have bitten her lip and said “Jesus H. Christ” and quietly, secretly, shamed her father.

Let him finger her in a Ford Taurus. Called her sister and said, “Ohh, Missy, I think I fucked up.”

Daniel, Daniel. She thought that was love.

Mulder smirks, a five-o’clock-shadow on his disparately perfect face. Mulder with his squinty eyes and his too-short chin and his beestung jigsaw mouth like the reason kissing was invented.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, tapping his nutmeg fingers on the scarred kitchen table.

“You don’t make very much money,” Scully notes, running her thumb along his brachioradialis. His skin is the color of sand castles, of the the edges of chocolate chip cookies. “With your blog.”

Mulder pouts. “I made it the old fashioned way,” he says, his thumb against her philtrum. Her lips. Her tongue.

“You certainly didn’t marry it,” she teases. “Living in sin.”

He nibbles the fleshy pad of her thumb. “I inherited.”

***

3. Her waist is sister to a Stradivarius. Her waist like Maud of Wales. He knows he shouldn’t obsess over this, her taut palimpsest belly, especially after the birth of a child they can no longer even claim. He knows it’s a quirk of genetics, like her startling eyes and her amber hair and her glorious brain. He knows she was born to be someone’s muse and that he has thwarted her destiny of Gauloises and pouting silver-nitrate immortality in a coffee table photography book.

She could still launch a thousand ships, she could bring Rossetti to his knees. He does not realize that the muse she is - a Perugino angel, a Lovelace polymath - remains his alone by her desire.

Scully, nearly sixty. So soft and so hard and angular and curvaceous. How had he ever waited, her waist and breasts and hips all bound in wool and gabardine and fitted black poplin? How had he let her beg off the lyric of “If I were the king of the world/Tell you what I'd do/I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the wars/Make sweet love to you.”

He curves his hot palm below her rib cage with his left hand, thumbs her tailored blouse open with his right.

He sucks at her rosy-brown nipple, her clavicles, her pale calf; he a ucks at her like Eve drinking in the first sweet juices of the apple.

***

4. Mulder should have been a pianist or a surgeon, she thinks. Should have been conducting an orchestra with fingers that beautiful, but instead he’s massaging a focaccia into a lazy rectangle.

He’s a tactile animal, her love, with his rangy hands and his absence of physical boundaries. Mulder has loomed and leered and poked and prodded for decades. He’s touched her in wildly inappropriate ways since Monica Lewinsky could legally drink. The 90’s, what a goddamn time, with his wholesomely filthy calendars and his flagrant innuendo.

Scully’s watched him squeeze limes and kill terrible people and braid challah and still - shameless - she sucks her bottom lip when he unbuttons a cuff, grips the gear-shift in their Highlander.

Mulder slices a tomato, chiffonades the basil.

“How long to rise,” Scully murmurs, cupping her palm around the tender juncture between his thighs.

Mulder sucks in his breath, arranges a flower garden on his dough. Adjusts an olive slice with the precision of Michelangelo.

“Twenty-four hours in the fridge,” he says, pressing deeply into her hand. “I hope you haven’t got plans.”

***

5. He licks at it like someone’s elderly aunt, like a mother cat, like a judgemental yiayia, bubbie, meemaw.

Scully swats at him, irritated. “Stop it. It’s not schmutz.”

“No,” Mulder says, tenderly. Stubbornly. “All those years, who did you think you were fooling?”

She scowls, too thin and too pale and too aristocratic for his comfort. “When I was nine Aunt Olive said it cluttered up my face.” Scully presses a forefinger to the birthmark above her lip. “It made me self conscious.”

“Je suis coquette,” Mulder says, his tongue teasing her lips apart, pleased with his own cleverness. He took three semesters of French, traveled there, but studied Les mouches independently.

A gentle swat to his nose. “It’s a cluster of melanocytes.”

He would absolutely love to slap Scully’sAunt Olive. Scully's dreary biology professors. “Tell Marilyn Monroe,” he mumbles against her fleur-de-sel mouth. “Tell Cindy Crawford.”

Scully says nothing, but her skin warms. Softens, loosens. She melts, midway cotton-candy at the State Fair, into his waiting mouth.

[alrightstartingscene]

This may be a controversial opinion but we need to normalize and have more “bitchy” girls in media who aren’t complete assholes but labeled bitchy by everyone else because they have a rougher attitude than most people. We need more girls who don’t have to become nice by the end of the story to get their happy ending.

I don’t owe anyone niceness. I owe them respect and decency. Those things do not equate to niceness. Maybe it’s the depression talking but I cannot be upbeat and happy all the time. I shouldn’t be expected to greet everyone with a hello and a smile at my workplace. But especially in retail if you so much as say hi with a straight face you’ve got attitude or are being mean. Take it from a childhood people pleaser, I lost my sense of self trying to be nice and perfect for everyone. Doing so was one of the reasons I got so burnt out at my last job. We don’t owe you niceness.

The few girls in media I can think of off the top of my head who fit this:

Kat in 10 Things I Hate About You

Tibby from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Paris Geller in Gilmore Girls (I haven’t finished this show and while Paris is irrevocably horrible to people in some instances she still isn’t made to be nice to everyone and people accept her even when she’s not happy).

Julie Powers from Scott Pilgrim

April Ludgate from Parks and Rec

Wednesday Addams from The Addams Family/Wednesday

Edit: MAEVE WHITMAN from Sex Education also!

Any recommendations people have with women who fit this as main/sub protagonists would be greatly appreciated!

[rq-producerperson]

Hi April!

I have some of questions about the public-facing transcripts of Magnus Protocol.

They have a very “shooting script” vibe. Are these the same as what’s given to the cast, a very close derivative, or something else?

If they aren’t what’s given to the cast, when in the process do they get made?

A weird copyediting question: What drove the change from the monospaced font (I think Courier New) to the bolder sans serif font? And is there a reason the headers and footers are the old style?

An esoteric “my masters is in rhetoric” question: The scripts contain quite a bit of content that isn’t in the audio. In the other hand, I hear that The Magnus Protocol is a podcast. Are you able to talk about your personal opinion on their relationship to the text? I’m not asking for an answer on authorial intent or the “on high” answer, but I’m curious how various people involved in making Protocol think of them. (As an example, I’ve been thinking of them, to go back to the as “apocrypha”; I think of them as true, but also not as part of the text, if that makes sense. More like annotations or marginalia.)

Anyway, welcome to the public Tumblr stuff! It’s cool to have you here.

Oooooh very happy to answer this, mostly because I think it’s a neat example of how we work as a team.

The short answer is yes the transcripts are derivative of the shooting scripts but they aren’t the same.

Alex and Cathy are both very sensitive audiophiles who have worked together to make those layers and layers of interesting audio bits some people catch but others don’t (the lie glitches are an example as well as the whispers in episode 10) Conversely, I have mild progressive hearing loss and handle the transcription.

As I am also the producer, I know all of the plot points, beats, and important bits that need to be communicated for the story to work. I use the shooting script as a guide and listen to the final release audio along with the shooting script and make edits as I go. Sometimes different takes are used, sometimes audio cues change etc. I also try to obfuscate information that’s not yet revealed in the timeline.

I will admit I don’t catch everything, and definitely make mistakes, but ideally the transcripts are designed in such a way as to make sure people who may not be as keyed in to the highly detailed audio execution can get a similar experience by reading the transcript. I have such respect for Cathy for the work she puts in artistically, we want to make sure people know what they’re hearing.

Our audio team are exceptional in such a way that they are constantly trying to balance creative narrative with accessibility. You can get all of the information in the audio, but we recognize that’s difficult and we are often people’s first experience in audio drama, so we balance it with the extra information in the transcripts.

The layout and design of the transcript was influenced by external guidance for the visually impaired who recommend 14 point bold Ariel as the most readable. We also release Word versions so people can use dark mode or adjust font size and style if needed. Accessibility is different for everyone, we do our best to make sure we have options available.

—

For amusing behind the scenes mistakes I know I have made:

People may have remembered the old pilot had ‘Norris’ labeled as ‘Martin’ this was because we changed Norris’s name so many times I didn’t know what to call him and accidentally forgot to change the Martin placeholder. 😬

So yea. I’m not perfect and nor are the transcripts but we try our best.

[ju1cyfru1t]

the hourglass ⏳ (rise! leo x reader)

prologue

pt.1

rottmnt x reader (Leo centered)

gn reader, platonic???, arguing, leo being stupid 🤞

takes place in the turtles finding mystic metal era 🤭

Today had just not been your day at all. From the moment you woke up, everything was going wrong.

You woke up late because you had stayed up last night to study for a math test, April was sick so you were alone in most of your classes, and you had so much homework to do tonight. You know when you’re having a bad day and all the little things just seem to add up? It was one of those situations.

Now you’re walking home through the busy, noisy New York streets, absolutely exhausted but you knew you weren’t going to get to rest anytime soon.

That’s when it caught your eye in the window of an old, run down antique shop; an hourglass filled with pink sand a golden frame. It had a glow to it, willing you to go into the shop and look at it. There was just something about it…

You picked it up and observed every detail, turning it over. That’s when you saw the small piece of mystic metal wedged into the base. You knew you couldn’t just rip it out or you would damage it. Ugh.

You whipped out your phone, listening to it ring a few times.

“You’ve got Donatello.”

“Hey, Donnie,” you looked around to make sure you were alone except for the small old woman behind the counter but she was deep into a magazine, “listen, I’m at this crusty antique shop and I think I found a piece of mystic metal.”

“Perfect! Great!...What’s the catch?”

“Uh…Well, it’s wedged into the bottom of this hourglass.” You sighed.

“Hourglass?...Hm, just bring it by and I will extract it.”

“What? But I’d have to buy it and it’s…” You searched for a price tag, “Oh my god, it’s 20 dollars!”

Donnie laughed on the other side of the phone, “Don’t even worry about it! I’ll reimburse you…Maybe.”

Oh, the things you do for them. You thought for a second and took a deep breath, “Ok, fine. But you owe me…See you soon.”

The old woman set down her magazine as you placed the hourglass on the counter and digged through your wallet, praying you had enough to buy it.

“Alluring, isn’t it?” She smiled at you with a wink. You had a bad feeling about this.

“Oh, yeah…Haha.” You laughed awkwardly.

You looked very awkward as you carried your newly-owned, oversized hourglass down the sidewalk and you were definitely getting some weird looks. Hey, it’s New York City, right? Surely, they’ve seen weirder things anyway. I mean, you certainly have.

The worst part of visiting your mutant friends is having to crawl down into the sewer and hoping to god no one saw you. But…I guess if it would help them then it’s fine. They definitely owe you though.

You didn’t even bother to knock and just let yourself into their underground lair, which both you and them were used to by now. You looked around, but you didn’t see any of them around. Alright, guess you’ll just head up to Donnie’s lab and see if he’s there. Honestly, you just wanted to get this over with and go home. You loved visiting them, of course, but you were undeniably overwhelmed and not in a good mood at all.

“Whatcha got there?” You jumped and swiftly turned to face Leonardo who had a curious expression.

You sighed in relief, “It’s just you.”

“What is that?” He snatched the hourglass from your hands.

“Hey!” You reached to grab it back, but he moved it out of your reach, “Be careful, Leo. That’s not a toy!”

Leo smirked at you, raising an eyebrow (that he doesn’t have but you know what I mean), “Uh huh, I’m very careful, trust me.” He tossed the hourglass from hand to hand, observing it like you had in the shop.

“I’m serious, Leo, it’s fragile. Just give it back, ok? it’s got a shard of that metal you guys need in it and I need to give it to Donnie.” You groaned in annoyance.

“Come on, lighten up!” Leo scoffed, “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

“Sorry,” you breathed out, “I just…Had a rough day at school.”

There was silence for a moment before Leo burst out laughing, “Seriously? School? Rough? Yeah, ok.”

“What?” You narrowed you eyes at him, confused. What the hell was he laughing at?

“I’m just saying…What’s so rough about it? You go to school, you learn or whatever, you go home. Seems pretty easy if you ask.” Leo snickered.

Now it was your turn to scoff, “And how would you know, Leon? It’s so much more than that. I mean, it’s so socially draining! All the work at school, and then the homework when you get home. It is hard. I don’t get to just relax all day like you. And put down the damn hourglass before you break it!”

“Woah, woah, woah! Protecting the city don’t just happen on it’s own, you know. I train super hard, I wouldn’t have time for pointless schoolwork. I just don’t see what’s so important about it. You act like school is all that matters to you” Leo’s smug smile faded and he shrugged, still carelessly playing with the hourglass.

“It’s not that easy! I have to care. I mean…God, you couldn’t walk a day in my shoes.”

“Oh, yeah? I’d love to see you walk a mile as a hero.” Leo challenged, smirking.

“If you knew what I go through and how hellishly unfair it is for you to even say that! Put that down!” You grabbed the other handle of the hourglass, trying to yank it away only for Leo to yank right back and leaving you in a tug-of-war.

“Puh-lease! I’d love to be in school all day without a care in the world besides some homework!” Leo’s smile turned into an annoyed, offended look.

“If you only saw the world my way for one day.” You laughed in disbelief at his dismissive, arrogant attitude, “Let go!” You pulled harder at your side of the hourglass, closing your eyes tightly.

A bright pink light filled the room and there was a buzzing sound, but you both were too angry to pay much mind before it faded away.

The hourglass hit the floor, but the glass didn’t shatter. The only part that broke was the small shard of glowing mystic metal, it fell out onto the floor with a small clink.

“Look what you did! I swear you act like such a child!” You groaned, looking back up and seeing…yourself?

“Oh, really, Y/N? I’m a…” Leo looked up and saw…himself?

You both rubbed your eyes and looked back up, blinking a few times, but you were seeing correctly. Whether you believed it or not, you had switched bodies and were staring back at yourselves.

“WHAT THE FU-”

[highlordofkrypton]

ACOTAR FANDOM ANALYSIS

…because apparently I miss academics?

PART 1 - CONTEXT & FACTORS TO CONSIDER

This was originally supposed to be an addition to @praetorqueenreyna’s post, but it started to get long and I didn’t wanna clutter your post. If you haven’t seen her essay on ACOTAR fandom culture, please do check it out because she made amazing and very valid points that I’m just gonna ramble on top of.

OKAY, APPARENTLY, THIS IS GONNA HAVE MULTIPLE PARTS. AFTER I WROTE THIS I REALIZE THERE’S SO MUCH.

I do want to disclaim that this isn’t targeted to any one part of the fandom, merely observations from someone who is relatively new to the ACOTAR fandom (around April-ish). I’m also way too lazy to get sources and stuff. I’m also missing a lot of fandom history.

ABOUT FANDOM CULTURE

At its core, fandom culture is niche. It’s strange, it’s not cool in a popular way, it’s geeky, it’s awkward, it’s community-oriented and a place detached from the mainstream. Hobbies, interests and discussions that you couldn’t really have these conversations with anyone in your day to day because they needed to engage with the piece of media and even then, they needed to care about it enough to create, deconstruct, reconstruct, and contribute to the fandom.

Fandom comes with a sense of belonging. It’s about liking the media, yes, but it’s about liking the media enough that you want to immerse yourself in it. You want more than just the book, the show, the song, etc.

With fandom, especially on Tumblr, there are subcultures within fandom, based on a character, a ship, a spinoff, etc. Fans can find (or create) a community to connect with on specific parts of a media, and that’s a beautiful thing. While fandom is not perfect, and it has its dark, embarrassing, painful moments, over the years it’s developed its own unspoken rules. Most of the ‘subcultures’ stay among them, and even with drama, the overlap isn’t as constant as ACOTAR. Usually, it comes in waves, and evens out eventually.

Most importantly, fandom is a place where you can just be yourself. You can shake off the weight of the outside world, and just do your thing! There are so many politics at play and rules in your day-to-day life, why not get a little weird? Fandom is a place where you find your other weirdos, and the judgmental people are usually a minority.  It can also be really small and you know everyone in the fandom—shoutout to my other 4 Orm Marius homies!!

POST-PANDEMIC CONTEXT AND THIRD PLACES

When the pandemic hit, in places that were locked down, habits needed to change and there was nowhere to go. You couldn’t really escape, so online was the best place. You had people returning to old hobbies, such as crafts, gaming, reading, etc. You also had people searching for new things to partake in. Either boredom, coping with the new way of the world or just finding people to talk to, those are valid reasons.

I’d like to introduce the notion of third places. Third place is considered to be a place that is not home, work or school. It is a place where you can get out of your routine and decompress. Libraries, coffee shops, going to the bar, or anywhere else where you can just step away from the grind and the routine. These are social spots that help alleviate the weight of your daily pressures. For some, their third place was strictly an in-person event.

With the arrival of the pandemic, these third places became inaccessible and even after lockdown was lifted, some of these places were irrevocably changed—either they closed permanently or the hours changed in such a way that they were not accessible. For example, I used to spend a lot of time in my favourite bookstore because it would open at 8AM and close at 10PM. After the pandemic, it opens at 10AM and closes at 5PM. For someone who works, I can no longer use this as my ‘third place’.

For many fandom members, their third place was online. They already know the rules of etiquette from observing, and joining out of their own curiosity. Time spent in fandom teaches you the unspoken tenets of interaction. ‘Don’t like, don’t read,’ is one example. Additionally, being part of a small fandom, but loving something so much that you want to connect with someone, anyone, teaches you to be a lot more respectful of the space you’re entering. You may not like everyone all the time, but ultimately, your enjoyment of your fandom should precede everything else.

Joining a fandom on your own, or with a small group, is completely different from joining en masse. Now, you have many people seeking a place to ‘connect’ coming in with their preconceived notions learned from other places. Maybe a different subculture that isn’t fandom. Maybe an assumption of how fandom should be. 

BOOKTOK VS. FANDOM - CLIQUES VS. COMMUNITIES

I’ve heard the argument that the ‘popular kids’ joining fandom is ruining fandom. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, trying to look at the demographics of BookTok and the patterns of behaviour that are associated with BookTok vs. fandom. I’m on BookTok, but I look for smaller communities, but I see all the drama, all the time.

Here are a few of my assessments:

All social media platforms allow you to cater your page and feed to what YOU want, but not all social media is community based. It is geared for content to consume, and feeds the algorithm to keep you on the platform, so that companies can pay the platform for advertising.

Most other social media encourage you to use parts if not your entire identity (photos, video, name, etc.) and I believe that creates a direct correlation to a person’s sense of validation when receiving likes, comments, engagement. Tumblr, on the other hand, rarely focuses on the identity of the person behind the screen, but rather you build your identity through what you share, the posts you make or reblog. It has shifted to be more similar to other social media (for moniessssss) but it wasn’t like this years ago. Over a decade ago, Tumblr used to be the only place where I could get fandom stuff and Deviantart.

Other social media platforms emphasize that you are the product. With the success of influencers, many people try to replicate the same success by using themselves, their talent and most importantly, their opinions on social media. BookTok is essentially an online book club, which means that it’s mostly sharing thoughts, and less about creation.

Content on social media, put out by influencers is created not with the intention for interaction, but rather, reach. People aren't used to the pushback and continuous discourse that happens on Tumblr where many people can chime in at once.

The desire to belong compounded with the impact of influencers on social media naturally sets people into two categories: creators and consumers. Content creators who have achieved success are placed on the same pedestal our modern society places celebrities on. Due to their following, some people might believe their opinions are more valid because there is a large number of people following them. Some people might be influenced by the ‘majority’ they see following an influencer, which is part of the course. That’s why they’re called influencers.

As a former marketing specialist, I’d like to assert that there are so many more factors in play than a valid take. Aesthetics are a big part of it, and charisma. Both of which fall under the same attributes as the ‘popular’ kids in school. As someone with a lot of charisma in person, I know for a fact that if you package something prettily enough, you can get away with anything.

The problem is: fandom doesn’t work like that.

Fandom is a place where unpopular opinions and niche things thrive. It’s the place where no one cares if you’re cool, and the pretty things come in forms of art (crafts, visual art, writing, etc.). It’s also a place for discourse for those who enjoy that, digging deeper into themes and what not.

The problem is: you have a subculture that is largely an echo chamber and largely one-sided 'community' entering a space with an established dynamic with a lot of back and forth. Sometimes, the rule in fandom is that the rules don’t apply. 

I believe that this isn’t the root of the toxicity, but elements to consider when speaking of the ACOTAR fandom which, like Reyna said, feels like an amplification of the worst elements of fandom.

It's super late here, so I'll come back to actually start saying something LMAO CAUSE THIS FEELS LIKE A WHOLE LOT OF NOTHING.

[morgana-larkin]

Hey peeps, so this is an idea that randomly came to me, especially since today April 26 would have been my dog Toni’s 17 birthday who passed away a year and half ago. I based the puppy’s appearance off of her as she was a blonde miniature poodle and she also loved cuddles too.

Now here’s the summary: You and your wife Melissa get a puppy for the first time. The puppy and Melissa form an instant attachment but slowly the puppy starts taking over all of Melissa’s time and attention and leaving you behind.

Now don’t yell at me and say I turned up the angst too much, I may have gone to the extreme but stuff like this does happen, especially with dogs who were found on the street or born with anxiety and they tend to overly bond with one person.

Puppy Crazy

Warnings: lots of angst but happy ending I promise *pinky swear*

Words: 3.3k

You and Melissa stare at all the puppies at the shelter. You both have always wanted one and now you’re here to adopt one.

“Any catching your interest?” You ask her.

“That blonde one who seems to like cuddling the other.” She says and you look at the one she’s talking about.

“You want a little cuddler?” You ask with a quirked eyebrow.

“Ya, that way they’ll like me cause I like cuddles too.” She says and you pout.

“I thought I was your little cuddler.” You tell her and she giggles at your response.

“You are, and there’s always room for another in the house.” She tells you and gives you a side hug.

“The blonde one is cute. What would you name her?”

“Eleanora.” She says and you look at her.

“It’s beautiful, what does it mean?” You ask, knowing her family only picks out names carefully due to their meaning.

“Shining light.” She says and you look at the little blonde cuddler and then back at her.

“It’s perfect.”

The person at the shelter goes and picks up the blonde miniature poodle puppy carefully and brings her out. The little puppy is a bit shy, understandable, but she lets you take her home, deeming you’re not a threat.

You stop at the pet store though and little Elea (her first nickname) was so excited. She met a few other dogs there and she attempted to play with them, a couple of them played with her. You got her a collar that fit and a name tag, you got a leash for her as well. You brought her down the toy aisle and Elea picked out a bunch, pretty much whatever she grabbed or pawed at you put in the cart. She helped pick out her new beds, although you drew a line at the ones that were meant for large dogs as you doubt Elea will be more than 15 pounds. You then got her food, food bowls, a toy basket and treats. You also bought a thing of pee pads as she isn’t housebroken yet as she’s 10 weeks old and some poo bags.

Elea stayed on your lap, cautiously, for most of the ride home. It was a nice day so you ended up putting the window down at red lights and she stuck her little nose out and she started sniffing the air.

Once you enter your home, Elea stayed near you or Melissa as it was a space she didn’t know. You guys got to work and you put out her food and water bowl, you filled the water bowl first. The worker at the shelter said she’ll need to eat as she’ll be skipping her dinner time, so you also filled her kibble bowl. Elea munched on her puppy kibble happily as you and Melissa got her things set up. You put the toy basket beside the couch and put most of the toys in there and brought the rest upstairs. You put the leash near the door with your keys and you put her name tag on the collar. You put the treats and kibble in the pantry, and you put 2 beds downstairs, one in the living room and one in the dining room, and the third one upstairs in your bedroom. You then placed a couple pee pads around but knew you’d put them down where she decides to pee later on.

Once Elea finished eating, she started sniffing around and found her toys and pulled most of them out. Melissa found the sight so cute as her little tail was wagging the whole time. Melissa got on her knees and stuck her hand out and Elea came up slowly and sniffed her hand before giving little nibbles on her hand to play with her. Melissa took a toy and started moving it around the floor and Elea chased it around. You couldn’t tear them apart so you made dinner instead. When dinner was ready, Melissa came in holding Elea in her arms and she was fast asleep.

“Aw. That’s so cute.” You whispered.

Halfway through dinner, Elea woke up and Melissa put her down as she got a burst of energy. You both ended up playing with her for most of the evening, although she seemed to go more towards Melissa.

At nighttime, Melissa carried her up the stairs as she got too scared to do it herself, and Melissa put her on the floor at the top and Elea explored the upstairs while you two got ready for bed. When you were ready, you called Elea but she didn’t come, Melissa called her and this time she came.

“That’s favouritism.” You complained and crossed your arms and Melissa giggled.

“Oh Amore, don’t hate me because she likes me more. You’ll always be my favourite human.” She tells you and you glare at her then get into the bed. Melissa ends up bringing Elea into the bed and you roll your eyes. Honestly you would do the same. Melissa spooned you and she whispered that Elea is cuddled into her back and you let out a little “aw”. She may prefer your wife but she’s too cute to hate.

The next day, Elea jumped in the shower with you two and then immediately jumped out and let out little puppy barks and ran around the bedroom until you got out. When Melissa was cooking breakfast, you filled Elea’s food bowl with some kibble and she inhaled her kibble. When she was done she went over to the dining table where you were eating and she sat down between you two and begged but mostly looked at Melissa. Melissa did end up caving and put a piece aside for her to which she put her bowl when she was finished.

After you decided to go for a walk with Elea. You and Melissa were both teachers but it was the beginning of summer break so you could stay at home and train and bond with Elea. Melissa ended up holding the leash and brought a couple treats to give to Elea and you held on to the poo bags. One Elea peed outside, Melissa pet her and gave her a treat right away. Elea wagged her tail when Melissa was petting her and swatted her little paws around as she hasn’t grown into them yet. She got on her back when her and Melissa were playing and she kept pawing at Melissa and giving her playful puppy nibbles. To which you took a bunch of pictures. You got her less than 24 hours ago and you already have 30 pictures of Elea on your phone, you realised that’s more than you took of Melissa when you were dating her for 4 years. But you shrug it off, I mean it’s probably accurate for all animal owners.

When you got home from the walk, Melissa carried Elea in her arms while she was sleep and went to sit on the couch. You brought Melissa a cup of water to which she thanked you for and drank the whole thing. 20 minutes later, Elea woke up and bounced out of Melissa’s arms and on to the couch. She got down after 2 minutes of trying and ended up slipping off the couch but Melissa congratulated her either way. Elea walked around and decided to drink some water then pulled the majority of toys out of her basket that you put away last night and you groaned.

“Why bother with a toy basket or putting them away.” You complained and Melissa laughed and came up to hug you. Elea saw you two hug and wanted in on it too. Melissa of course complied and went and picked her up, then you three had a little family hug. During the hug Elea licked you both on the face and you both laughed. You both played and ran around with Elea for most of the day. You then fed Elea her dinner kibble while Melissa got dinner ready.

“You fed her so many treats today, I’m surprised she still has room.” You told Melissa and she just shrugs.

“She’s a growing puppy, she needs to eat.” Melissa says and you laugh.

“I love you, you know. Never change.” You tell her and you wrap your arms around her waist.

“I don’t plan too Amore. And I love you too.” She tells you then turns around and gives you a quick kiss on the lips then finishes getting dinner ready.

And just like at breakfast, Elea begs, at Melissa mostly, for some human food, and again, Melissa caves and gives her the piece when finished in her food bowl.

After dinner, you both settle on the couch and Melissa picks Elea up when she whines and you put on a Disney movie. You chose the little mermaid and you kept glancing over at Melissa petting Elea’s head while Elea nuzzles her head in Melissa’s lap and falls asleep. You lean your head on Melissa’s shoulder and she wraps an arm around you. Halfway through the movie, Elea wakes up and starts barking. You pause the movie and get her leash to take her out. You take Elea out as Melissa did it before supper and she does her pees. You bring her back in and she goes right to Melissa to get picked up again, which Melissa does and she goes and falls asleep on her lap with Melissa scratching her head.

The rest of the month goes like this, and you end up bringing her to puppy class and teach her some commands, go to a dog park to introduce her to other dogs and introduce her to some family members that you’ll see multiple times a year.

Melissa and Elea end up spending a lot of time together and while it shouldn’t bother you, it is taking a lot of your Melissa time away. You knew you wouldn’t spend as much time with Melissa when you get a puppy but Elea is demanding ALL of Melissa’s attention and it’s started to make you a little jealous. Like you couldn’t have sex without Elea demanding Melissa’s attention. You’re starting to think that dog just wants Melissa away from you, cause maybe she doesn’t like you.

Like when you’re having sex, at the beginning, when Melissa is kissing your neck, Elea comes over on the bed and starts biting Melissa’s hair and doing her little puppy barks. Melissa eventually gives in and gives her attention to Elea and you end up having to use the vibrator.

It was cute at first but not being able to touch your wife, like sometimes not even a nice long kiss of like 10 seconds. Cause everytime you do, Elea comes over and gets Melissa’s attention. You’ve tried to get Elea to like you more but her and Melissa bonded exceptionally quick and you don’t know why.

Melissa thinks it’s funny when you complain that Elea is getting all her attention, everytime you bring it up.

“I swear it’s like she doesn’t even like me and is just separating us. Like she gets all your attention and I get the scrapes.” You complained one night and she just brought you to lean on her shoulder while Elea laid on her lap. Melissa rubbed your arm while she scratched Elea’s head. She loves her 2 girls, y/n and Elea and she wouldn’t change it a thing.

“Y/n, if you think about it, Elea went through a lot. She ended up at the shelter cause she was found on the street. When she was like 3 weeks old and spent 7 weeks at that shelter. Then she comes home with us and everything is new. She just bonded to one of us and wants comfort to help soothe her.” Melissa explains and you take a deep breath.

“I know, you’re right, it’s just a little annoying right now cause I can barely touch my wife, without little sunshine here interrupting us. And you always give her the attention.” You say and cross your arms. “Like I wanted a puppy too and I barely get time with either of you individually.” You say and before Melissa can say anything, Elea gets up and starts barking and Melissa gets up to take her outside as it’s her turn. You huff as Melissa carries Elea downstairs then outside.

When Melissa gets back, you’re asleep so she just climbs into bed with Elea, puts Elea in front of you, turns off the light and cuddles you. She sees Elea go to nuzzle her head into you and you unconsciously move your arm and she climbs underneath. Melissa smiles then falls asleep.

The next morning you wake up and Elea is underneath your arm and Melissa on your back and for a second you think you’re dreaming. You then fully wake up and realise that it’s real. For one, Elea and Melissa stayed apart and two, Elea is cuddling you instead of Melissa.

“I told you she likes you.” Melissa says quietly and you smile.

And as if knowing you’re awake, Elea wakes up and demands to be taken outside.

“I’ll take this one while you wake up.” Melissa tells you and you nod.

“Thank you.” You tell her and she picks Elea up who wags her little tail.

Another month goes by and it’s more or less the same, Elea cuddles and plays with you sometimes but still is overly bonded to Melissa. It’s starting to really frustrate you and you’ve ended up starting fights with Melissa to which you apologise to her later, and she always forgives you.

Melissa does start to clue in that Elea is taking a lot of her attention away from her wife but can never say no to those sad little puppy eyes.

When school starts back up, Melissa spends 10 minutes saying goodbye to Elea while you wait in the car on your phone. She finally leaves when you threaten to drive there without her, even though she knows you won’t. Due to barely being able to be physical with your wife or any physical touch, any kisses at school dropped drama from last year and even the Abbott crew notices and questions you about it at the end of the week.

“Melissa has a new wife now.” You grumble out and they all look at you confused.

“She’s talking about the puppy and she’s gotten a little jealous that Elea prefers spending time with me.” Melissa explains and they all have their mouths shaped in an ‘O’ form.

“That’s not what I’m angry about and you know it. I’m angry because she takes away all your time, I can barely kiss or hug you.” You grit at her and then you get up and walk out of the break room. You hide away in your classroom the rest of the day, you didn’t even let Melissa in when she came to check on you a few times.

Melissa was starting to get worried about you but doesn’t know what to do. So she went to Barb.

“I mean I don’t know what I should do, I mean we can’t give Elea back to the shelter because she’s our dog now and I know that no matter how angry y/n is, she’ll never agree to give her back anyway.” Melissa complains and slumps back to the wall.

“Melissa, you’re missing the point. Y/n isn’t angry she’s upset cause she feels she doesn’t have a wife anymore.” Barb states. “I’ve noticed how detached you both are from each other since you got the puppy. And I know that puppies require a lot of attention and time, y/n knows that too. But maybe you spend a little too much time on Elea.” Barb states. “Like Elea is like a child right. And sometimes you just have to let children do things themselves.” Barb explains and Melissa sighs.

“I know, I guess I got too wrapped up with Elea.” Melissa says.

“I know and I know y/n knows too. If she didn’t then she would be a lot more angry right now.” Barb says and Melissa chuckles.

Melissa plans to take you out on a date tomorrow to spend time with you but you immediately decline and Melissa frowns.

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Elea instead of me?” You tell her.

“No, I’d rather go with my wife.” She tells you and you scoff.

“Like I said, wouldn’t you rather go with Elea.” You repeat and before she can say anything else, Elea comes running in and barks to go out. “Oh look, your wife is calling you.” You tell her and go upstairs.

When Melissa returns she sits on the couch and thinks about how to change things. She gets an idea and goes upstairs to where you’re on the bed, on your phone pouting. She brings Elea up with her and she sits on the bed and puts Elea on your lap.

You refuse at first and then Elea whines for your attention and you start petting her a bit but then she nuzzles into you and she falls asleep.

“Look y/n, I’m sorry that I put all my attention on her. I didn’t notice and I was so excited about this puppy and that she bonded to me more. I guess I didn’t kinda forget about my wife. I mean we did basically only accomplish sex completely probably 4 times this summer.” She says and you glare at her.

“It was never just the sex, I mean ya it’s part of it but I would like my wife back.” You tell her and cross your arms. “You’re gonna have to start giving less attention to Elea or I might leave.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Isn’t that a little dramatic?” She says. You whip your head at her and glare. You then pick Elea up and place her in Melissa’s lap then you walk out.

You end up sleeping in the guest bedroom the entire weekend, to Mel’s very reluctant begging. She even tried sneaking in during the night but you caught her and was sent back to the main bed. She then realised that nighttime is pretty much the only physical contact you two still have, cuddling at night, and you're asleep for most of it.

So she decides to make some changes. She starts putting a fluffy blanket down at the foot of the bed and Elea starts sleeping on that, while you two cuddle. She got anti anxiety beds for Elea and you two are able to have sex and cuddle on the couch. She goes on walks everyday with Elea and you, and insists you hold the leash while she has an arm around your waist. If you two are kissing and Elea barks to get Melissa’s, you at first pulled away, thinking Melissa will give her the attention but Melissa’s starts pulling you back and ignoring Elea for a bit until giving her attention.

Little by little you start to get your wife back and Elea’s overly attached bond with Melissa starts turning into a normal bond and Elea even starts bonding with you now.

By end of September, Melissa has you back in her arms, where you should be and a cute puppy with a normal relationship bond with both of you. She fully admits she went a little puppy crazy and forgot about the other important person in her life. But now she’s back to holding you in one arm while Elea is snuggling on both of you.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

Let me know if you want to be added!

[muffinapologist]

Hey, hey, look at me. Look me in the eyes. Listen.

Ace Attorney au where everything is the same up to Turnabout Sisters at which point things go wildly off the rails and Redd White succeeds in getting Phoenix convicted for Mia’s murder

And theoretically Edgeworth should be satisfied another criminal in prison and his record is maintained. But something keeps bothering him about the case. And he convinces himself it’s the motive, they never figured out *why* Phoenix Wright would kill Mia Fey. (Spoiler alert it’s actually bc deep down he knows Phoenix didn’t do it and he’s got, you know, unnecessary feelings)

So he goes to visit Phoenix in detention, to ask him what his motive was. And Phoenix is like"You want my motive?" "yes?" "i'd love to tell you, really I would, but since I didn't fucking do it; that's kind of a tall order"

But Phoenix is also kind of in a bind because he’s in prison and Redd White isn’t and now White knows that Maya knows who he is. And Phoenix is worried she’s going to be his next target.

So he strikes a deal with Edgeworth. Edgeworth investigates Redd White (not for Murder but for his many financial crimes) and Phoenix will give him access to his entire life basically, his apartment, Mia’s office, etc, so that he can figure out Phoenix’s motive

Featuring (but not limited to):

Edgeworth’s slow descent into a morality crisis as he realizes Phoenix is innocent and White isn’t; therefore also throwing his previous cases into doubt

Maya and Miles worsties to besties with Maya helping Miles with his investigation with the goal of helping Phoenix and eventually bonding with him through their shared family trauma

Guilt nightmares and general spiraling

“Everything I’ve learned about Wright has been against my will” -Edgeworth, lying

Phoenix’s depressing personal life and Mia being Important

Edgeworth having Phoenix consult on the Will Powers case while in prison and Phoenix of course finding the key contradictions

Demon prosecutor Miles Edgeworth breaking his own perfect record by helping Phoenix file an appeal and being a proxy in his retrial

A surprising amount of April May character development as she turns on White and testifies in Phoenix’s retrial

Eventual wrightworth because you know how I be

[heartsfromia]

be my date — h. joshua

pairing: non-idol! joshua x f! reader

word count: 3,961

genre: fluff, minor angst

warnings: reader has social anxiety

author's note: reader is 18 ! dont call the cops on poor joshy, they have a two year difference too in this ;__; THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS BTW 🤍🤍🤍

It was that wretched time of the year, the time where you dreaded throughout your entire high school journey. As the winter air clears, flowers begin to bloom and April showers pass by, finals were ending soon and in a month, you’ll be receiving your diploma as a mark to the end of one chapter in your life.

However, it meant one thing, and this thing you hoped would pass by without your attendance.

Yes, it is Prom season. Capitalized for emphasis.

Dress shopping, various incidents of “promposals” taking place within the two weeks between finals and the date of the dance, you dreaded this time of your high school journey because of one thing: the dance.

You understood the appeal of prom. It was the one time when a lot of peers felt was a special closing before they enter adulthood, and college. It was the perfect occasion for everyone to go all out without worrying of whether they’re overdressed for the party, it was an event where couples could take this time to take a further step into their relationship, using the slow dancing portion of the party as a commemorative dance to a hopefully long-term relationship. Everyone would be there as a last hurrah with their high school friends, the same people that watched you glow up through your teens, and eventually bloom and flower on that one single night. It was special.

Unfortunately, you didn’t care. You got the appeal of prom, doesn’t mean you had to like it.

To you, prom is a nightmare. Your school isn’t exactly small, so imagining your entire year being in one, closed off space (albeit, the gym is spacious) sounded like a disaster. A clump of sweaty bodies, dancing to the DJ’s mix of school-friendly songs with lackluster beats—overcrowded, smelly, and just completely unappealing. Don’t get started on the huge possibility that someone would spike the fruit punch when the teacher chaperones weren’t looking.

Sweaty, drunk, overcrowded, you shiver at the thought.

Alas, your distaste and overall reluctance to join prom would be futile because you’re an introvert that, unfortunately, was adopted by a renown extrovert and party-goer.

“Have you bought your ticket to prom?” Yunjin asked, moving to sit on the empty seat beside you. You both had just finished the last exam of the day, and while everyone were packing to leave, you were waiting for Yunjin who was in the class next to you.

“I’m not going,” you uttered, grabbing your bag. “I thought I told you I don’t plan on going, dude”

She looked at you bewildered, eyes wide and mouth agape. “You can’t not go, Y/N. It’s prom.”

You glanced to the side, raising a brow. “So?”

She gasped dramatically, and you rolled your eyes. You anticipated Yunjin pestering you about prom. Ever since your senior year started, prom was the only thing she ever talked about. She raved about the dress she had been eyeing at one the most popular dress boutiques in town, you’d spot her by her desk, scrolling through Pinterest photos for makeup looks to go with her dress, and she even ranted about how her boyfriend had asked her to prom before finals began, just so she’d be at a peace of mind to study.

“Why don’t you want to go, Y/N?”

“I just don’t… like them,” you answered a bit unconvincing and it was evident with the way she rose her eyebrow at you. “I’m not a party person, Yunjin.”

“You don’t have to party, you can sit by the table and people watch,” she offered, causing you to snort. “Hey, people watching at prom is fun, and when I’m tired of dancing, I can join you and we can predict who will end up as what in the future after leaving high school.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” you began, pressing your lips together and shrugging, “I seriously just want to stay home, dude.”

“But it’s our last night together,” she pouted, her big eyes pleading. “It’s our only prom, Y/N.”

“It’s just prom, and it’s not like it’ll be the last time we see each other,” you reminded, “we’re still going to the same campus.”

“Come on, Y/N,” she whined, following behind you as the two of you made your ways to your car, planning to head over to Yunjin’s for a girl’s night. “Be honest with me, because I just don’t believe that that’s your reason.”

Yeah, because the real reason is because I have terrible social anxiety and an overcrowded prom doesn’t seem the most ideal situation to be in.

You wanted to tell her, hell, she’s your best friend, but you knew deep inside that the reason wouldn’t be enough to keep Yunjin from dragging you to the prom. It’s not that she wouldn’t understand, it’s just that she’ll find a way to accommodate to you to ensure you won’t have a panic attack, and by doing so, she’ll be more focused on you, rather than having fun and you knew Yunjin only went to parties because she wants to have fun, not babysit her friend.

So, you uttered the first thing in your head. “I don’t have a date. It seems pathetic to go to prom without a date.”

“Seriously? No one has asked you out?” You only shrugged. Unbeknownst to her, there were a few, but none extravagant—mainly through letters or asking you casually, but you declined, you seriously did not consider going to the end-of-school-year event. Her brows furrowed, the conversation seeming to end there as she scrolled through her phone, replying to messages from her boyfriend as you drove to her house.

“Is someone else home?” you asked as you pulled into her driveway, a car you didn’t recognize it being either of her parents parked in front of the house. Yunjin looked just as confused, shaking her head as the two of you climbed out and headed in. A new pair of shoes were at the front of the door, and from the looks of it, you assumed it to be owned by a guy. “Visitors?”

“Maybe,” she responded, kicking off her shoes and you sighed, arranging your shoes neatly. “Eomma, I’m home!”

“Yunjin, how were your exams?” Mrs. Huh appeared by the doorway of the kitchen, wiping her hands dry. “Y/N, hello to you, too. Did you guys do well?”

“We’ll know when the grades come out,” you responded with a warm smile.

“We didn’t recognize the car in front, is someone here?” Yunjin asked, and her mother’s eyes widened, nodding.

“Ah yes, I almost forgot.” She smacked her forehead gently. “Your cousin is staying here for two weeks, your cousin Joshua.”

“Joshua’s here?” Yunjin exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Yes, he’s upstairs, but he’s tired from the flight here, so you can say hi when he comes down.” Yunjin nodded in understanding, turning to face you, a metaphoric light bulb brightly lit atop her head as she grins at you.

“You’re going to prom with my cousin.”

What?! “What?” It came out less shocked than you anticipated; your tone dead, but as you stare back at her with uncertainty, it was clear you were taken aback, as if you didn’t hear her correctly.

“You’re going to prom with Joshua.”

You glanced around the room, no one but the two of you present in her living room. “Is the Joshua in the room with us?”

“He will be,” she gleamed, sparing a glance at the stairway that led upstairs. “He’s awesome, Y/N, a true gentleman and he can be your date to prom.”

It was your turn to stare at her in bewilderment. “You are talking as if he’s already agreed, Yunjin.”

“He will, trust me,” she began, heading towards the stairs and you following. “He’s a part of the pandemic generation of students, so he never got a prom, and our school is his alma mater.”

“And how does that matter?”

“Because, I know a few other people asking our seniors to prom, some going with their older sibling because they want to have an experience they missed out during their time,” Yunjin explained, plopping down on her bed. “Joshua’s also told me how much he wished he went to his prom.”

“And how are you sure he’ll agree to this?” As if on cue, the sound of the door adjacent to Yunjin’s creaked open and she grinned mischievously at you.

“Joshua!”

“Yeah!” Your heart dropped at the deeper voice on the other side of the door, Yunjin is seriously not backing out this plan of hers.

“Can you come into my room for a sec?” A beat passed and the door to her room swung open, a head peeking through. Light brown, floppy hair was the first thing you noticed from Joshua. Your eyes moved down to his doe-like eyes to his uniquely pursed lips as he looks to his cousin before acknowledging your existence, his pouted lips stretched into a warm smile. “Come in, please.”

Waving a nonchalant hand to you as he entered, he turned to Yunjin, raising his brows. “What’s up?”

“This is my best friend, Y/N,” she began, putting an arm around you. “And she doesn’t have a date to prom.”

“Oh… that’s sucks,” he responded, sounding a bit unsure which caused you to chuckle lightly and Yunjin to smack her forehead.

“You never got to go to your prom, right?” Joshua nodded, Yunjin’s plan finally clicking. “And a bunch of your friends are going to mine, right?”

“Yeah, a couple of them—I think Jeonghan is going with his little sister, and Seungcheol also has a cousin that goes to your school,” he explained. “Don’t you have a date already?”

“Yes, but this is not about me, it’s about—“ she held onto both your shoulders from behind, leaning into you, “—her.”

“I don’t mind taking you to prom, Y/N.” You could only muster a smile. It’s not about taking me to prom, Joshua, it’s about me not wanting to go, with a date or not.

“We’ll be preparing for prom starting tomorrow, you’re free to be our chaffeur for the week,” Yunjin jokingly offered, to which Joshua threw his head back in laughter, his laugh echoing through your head. The way he smiled, his entire demeanor—admittedly, you didn’t mind having him as a date to prom, he’s attractive and the way he so easily clicks with your best friend, it’s clear his intentions are pure, nothing to fear. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t have a nagging feeling at the back of your head, a feeling that comes in a tightly packed gift bag with your social anxiety.

When Joshua left the room, you turned to your best friend, staring deep into her eyes as you deadpanned, “I regret sitting beside you when we were freshmen.”

This ensued a fit of laughter from your friend as she pulls you into a hug.

The following week was busy, Joshua had obliged to Yunjin’s request of being your chaffeur for the week as he drove you all around town to clothing boutiques, makeup stores, and cafes as both Yunjin and you occupied yourselves with prom preparations.

You used the excessive time spent together to get to know Joshua a little bit more than just his name, the fact that he’s a sophomore in university, and that he was two years older than you.

Your conversations never lasted too long because of your duties as Yunjin’s prom advisor, and you had to focus on making sure you advise the best clothing to adorn your best friend on one of her most awaited nights—second to her wedding, of course.

There was an opening for a conversation to occur between you and Joshua when Yunjin and her boyfriend were busy getting their measurements in for a few altercations on their outfits, both Joshua and you seated in the front, watching as the seamstress wraps a measuring tape around your friends.

“You’re going to same campus as Yunjin, right?” Joshua strikes up conversation, expecting that the two of you will be for a while as your friends get their measurements in.

“Yeah, both of us are taking business administration,” you told him, and he nodded. “What are you taking?”

“Economics,” he answers, his lips pressed in a straight line—a habit you found that he does every so often when he’s unsure of how to continue the conversation.

“I’m really sorry, by the way, I don’t think I got the chance to apologize,” you began, your face contorted in guilt as you looked at him. “I didn’t plan on going to prom, but Yunjin’s very… convincing.”

His laughter shook his body slightly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, she can be that way.” Both your eyes focused on the girl of the conversation, laughing as she jokingly smacks her boyfriend’s chest. “But I seriously don’t mind, since a couple of my other friends are going as well, I thought it would be fun to, you know, make up for lost times.”

“Yeah… it must’ve sucked to have a lot of traditions be taken away because of the pandemic,” you uttered absentmindedly, “but that means we were in school together around the same time, no?”

“Yeah, but because of the pandemic we never got to meet,” he explains, “but Yunjin has told me a lot about you.”

“That’s nice to hear, I’m sorry I can’t say the same for you.”

“She probably referred to me more often as her ‘cousin’ to you, since after high school I lived near college and rarely came here.” You nod in understanding.

“I just feel bad because you probably planned on spending your semester break doing something else, but you’re here… babysitting us,” you apologized once again, an endearing smile breaking out on Joshua’s face—a smile that caused heat to spread to your cheeks, and your stomach to turn.

“I really don’t mind, I’m enjoying myself here,” he answers honestly, the sincerity clear in his tone and you couldn’t help to mirror his smile, finally feeling at peace with this whole fiasco that Yunjin had brought onto you.

Maybe having Joshua as your date would make prom more enjoyable then.

Joshua did make your prom more enjoyable, that is, until you arrived at the venue.

Apparently word that a lot of former students were joining through their own insiders had spread throughout the school, the representative from each year reaching out to the school and eventually, a bigger venue was rented out for the prom.

If you heard correctly, there were at least three different batches, including yours, joining prom this year, and the venue would accomodate the estimated 350 students. The venue they had chosen was a hotel ballroom, that specified in big events like international conferences, and weddings, but either way to you, the place was big, meaning that there will be a lot more people than you had anticipated.

You thought that having yourself get ready with Yunjin, songs blasting from her bluetooth speaker as the two of you did each other’s hair and makeup would be enough time to calm yourself down. It did help ease the anxiety that was slowly crawling up your throat, but only temporarily.

At some point before arriving, the dress felt light and wavy as it encompassed your body, and the makeup felt almost nonexistent, bringing out your features in the most natural way, while emphasizing the depth of your beauty. But, as you arrived at the hotel venue, all of it changed immediately the second your heart dropped to the base of your stomach.

All of a sudden, the dress felt too tight, clinging to you in the most uncomfortable way possible, sweat began forming at the palm of your hands and the pits of your arm, and the makeup felt too much, overcrowding your face and accentuating the flaws beneath. All of a sudden the room felt too small, and the people too many.

“Hey, are you okay, Y/N?” You didn’t know who was talking to you, but you felt their hand clasp onto your elbow gently upon seeing your paling face.

“I… I can’t…” Breathe, I can’t breathe, you wanted to scream, but the air felt thin as your heart raced against your chest. It felt as if everyone’s eyes were on you at that very second, their stares filled with judgement, looking you up and down as if you were some clown for showing up to this event. You knew if you stayed there another second, you’d either faint, cry, throw up or all of the above.

“Bathroom,” you forced out as you turned on your heels and maneuvered your way through the crowd and towards the ladies’ rest room, where more girls were found, staring at you in shock before you disappeared into one of the stalls.

I can’t cry. I can’t cry. I’ll ruin Yunjin’s $40 mascara if I cry. But it was futile, and tears began streaming down your face as you tried your best to inhale and exhale at a normal rate.

“God, you’re so stupid,” you cursed yourself through gritted teeth. You were sure Yunjin would be too worried to have fun, but Joshua, who wanted to make up for lost times with his old friends, can’t have fun, too because you’re having a panic attack.

“Y/N?” You sit up straight at the familiar, deep voice. “Y/N, I saw you run in here. It’s Joshua.”

You wanted to call out for him, reassure you’re fine but the bile in your throat kept your words from leaving your lips.

“I’m coming in.” Your eyes practically bulged out of your head when hearing his statement before you quickly stepped out of your stall to make sure no other girl was in there, before Joshua entered. Luckily enough, it was completely empty and Joshua stood there, staring at you, worry written all over his face when he sees you.

“Y/N, oh my gosh,” he approached you, not thinking as he holds your face in his hand, his thumb swiping at the black-tinted tears staining your cheeks.

The weight of the night returned and your breath was caught in your throat. Joshua’s eyes widened, pulling you into his arms, pressing your face into his shoulder in hopes it’ll calm you down.

A gentle hand stroked your back, as he cooed, “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay, Y/N. Just breathe.” Once you had calmed down enough, you pulled away and a tender smile adorning his lips as he wiped your cheeks. “Do you want to step out for some fresh air?” Wordlessly, you nodded and he clasped your hand, pulling you out the rest room, and out the hotel.

The hotel had a small convenient store near the lobby, and the two of you ventured in that direction, Joshua allowing you to sit on the available chairs as he bought you water and a snack, since you hadn’t had the chance to feast on the food provided inside.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately apologized when he sat beside you, placing a bottle of water and a melon bread in front of you. “You’re supposed to be in there having fun with your friends, but I’m ruining it.”

“It’s not your fault you had a panic attack, Y/N,” he reassured, placing his hand on top of your head in an endearing gesture.

Stunned, you stuttered, “H-how did you know?”

“I know a panic attack when I see one, and from how pale you were, it was clear you were going through it,” he explained, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay? What triggered it?”

“Prom,” you answered, scoffing slightly at how ridiculous you must’ve looked earlier.

“Is that why you didn’t plan on going?” You nodded. “Then why did you pushed yourself?” His tone wasn’t accusing, he sounded genuinely curious to why you would purposefully put yourself in a situation that you’re uncomfortable with.

“Like I said a few days ago, Yunjin can be very convincing,” you sighed, tearing open the bread’s casing.

“Still, though, you didn’t tell her?”

“I didn’t want to make her feel like she had to watch over me,” you answered truthfully, chewing on the insides of your cheek. “I thought—if I told her—then she’d go out of her way to make sure I was okay, and couldn’t focus on having fun, like…” You glanced up at him, “like you right now. I’m sorry… again.”

“I really don’t mind, Y/N, I feel a part of being your date is to make sure you’re okay,” he reassures, reaching over to open the bottle for you. You mutter a ‘thank you’ taking a big gulp, the cool water refreshing against the heat from your crying session in the bathroom.

“She was worried about you earlier, Y/N,” he informed, his brows pulled together slightly, “when you feel comfortable, it’s alright to tell her about your anxiety.”

“I don’t want her to feel terrible for putting me in that situation, though, at the end of the day, I still went along with it.”

“Knowing Yunjin, yes, I agree she might feel guilty,” he begins, nodding in agreement, “but we’re still not responsible over how people because, I mean, what they’re feeling is their thing to deal with. What we shouldn’t do is allow ourselves to be put in situations that make us uncomfortable just because you don’t want someone else to feel bad.”

“It feels like I’m listening to myself whenever Yunjin gets herself into trouble,” you muttered, hoping it would ease the tension you felt.

“I’m just saying, Y/N, it’s alright to tell Yunjin about this, I’m sure she’ll be understanding next time.”

You only smiled, nodding before taking another bite of the bread. A beat of silence, and you swallowed your bite to talk again. “If it means anything, I had fun despite what happened.”

He chuckled lightly. “I did, too, Y/N.” Another beat of silence. “Although I can’t say so for right now, I’m a bit… disappointed.”

“Disappointed how?”

“I had a lot of fun with you the past week with your prom preparations,” he began, followed with a sigh, “it just sucks that we never got to do one significant thing for prom.”

Your brows furrowed. “Which is?”

“The promposal.” Your lips formed an ‘o’ as you nodded. “We just suddenly became each other’s dates.”

“That is true.”

“What if I proposed something else to you, though?”

Your eyes widened with shock, leaning a bit back to create distance between the two of you. “No offence, but I just finished high school, Joshua. If this is marriage—”

“No, no, no, what?” He quickly denied, his cheeks reddening as a nervous laugh escaped his lips. “I’m barely through college, and I’m surviving off of ramen, I don’t think either of us are ready for that.”

The two of you laughed at that. You then asked, “Then what do you mean?”

“I was thinking of a less… life-time commitment requiring proposal, Y/N.”

“That is…?”

“I have tickets to the festival downtown,” he starts, eyes bright with anticipation, awaiting your answer. “Would you like to be my date again?”

Your cheeks flushed upon hearing his question, a smile adorning your features as you began to fee giddy. Joshua chuckled along with you, rubbing the side of his neck, “I’m sorry it’s nothing grand.”

“No, it’s not that, I… I’d love to be your date to the festival, Joshua,” you accepted, and his grin only widened. You then added, “But does that mean it’ll be our last date, though?”

His eyes gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, shaking his head, uttering, “Not unless you say otherwise, Y/N."

[theartofeverything]

Favorite April

I know she gets flack in the fandom, but I love this half alien girl who’s doing her best and isn’t quite sure what she wants. I love that she can hold her own right along with the boys. I love that she’s not cut out to be a perfect love interrest. I love her snarkyness. I love that she’s part of the team and the family.

Thanks @tmaynt for hosting all this!