#jingle bells wedding bells

[gacmediadaily]

Two of Great American Family‘s major stars are teaming up for a new holiday movie.

TV Insider has learned exclusively that Candace Cameron Bure and Cameron Mathison will star in a new original holiday film, Jingle Bells, Wedding Bells. It will premiere in November as part of Great American Christmas 2024. The holiday event is in its fourth season.

In this upcoming film, Bure plays Gracie, who is Peachtree Inn’s perfect wedding planner and whose mantra, “No problems, only solutions waiting to be discovered,” makes blushing brides’ dreams come true. When Charlie (played by Mathison) brings his sister and future brother-in-law to their former hometown of Butler, South Carolina, expecting to create a magical Christmas Eve wedding at the Inn for Lindsay and Josh, the trio is stunned when Gracie stubbornly declines the job, saying it is not possible to pull off the perfect wedding two weeks before Christmas. Eventually, Gracie relents and agrees to plan the wedding, only to discover there are more hurdles to overcome than expected.

In addition to starring in Jingle Bells, Wedding Bells, Bure serves as an executive producer. Also executive producing the film are Holly A. Hines, Eric Jarboe, Jeffery Brooks, Ford Englerth, Gerald Webb, Paula Elle, and Trevor McWhinney. The film is produced by Mick MacKay. Supervising producers are Michael Shepard, Jonathan Shore, and Robyn Wiener. Serving as associate producers are David Oland and Trudi Thorwaldson. Jingle Bells, Wedding Bells is directed by Elle from an original screenplay written by Katie Main.

This isn’t the first film Great American Family already has set for its Great American Christmas 2024. Others include A Vintage Christmas starring Merritt Patterson and Christopher Russell; Love at the Kettle (working title) starring Carlos PenaVega and Alexa PenaVega; and A Christmas Less Traveled starring Bure and Eric Johnson.

[skill7spark04]

MC's Speech Checks

[milunalupin]

— all-american

james potter x reader ★ 869 words

"Can you two stop giggling? People are staring."

The boys followed the tallest Marauder through the streets of muggle London, on their way to some American diner Peter had told them about. The purebloods couldn't help but 'ooh' and 'ahh' at all the unusual things they didn't have back in their world. A large neon sign came into view, the 'C' in 'Nick's Diner' flickering on and off. The loud jingle of the bell as they opened the door announced their arrival, only a few other patrons scattered around the diner. A voice from somewhere back in the kitchen called out.

"Welcome in, take a seat anywhere you'd like!"

They decided on a red leather booth near the back corner, a 'Taxi Driver' poster plastered right above the table. The black and white checkerboard flooring and jukebox made it feel like they were in that film 'Grease' their friend Lily makes them watch every other week.

"Evening boys, how's everyone doin'? My name is Y/N, can I get anyone started with a drink?"

James thinks he must've gotten hit by a muggle car crossing the street to get here because he believes he's seeing an angel in person. You just look so pretty, in your little red dress and white apron, curly hair tied up in a ponytail. Your smile. Merlin, he was going to need to get his eyes checked again after dinner because your smile was truly blinding. Were those wedding bells he was hearing?

"I think James over here is good, all that drool should last him a good week or two."

A hard slap on the back took him out of his daze. His eyebrows pinched together and he was about to say something back to Sirius when he realized he was drooling, quickly wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater before turning back to you with red cheeks and a sheepish smile.

"A Coca-Cola for me, please."

You think the blushing boy before you couldn't get any cuter. You grinned and nodded, telling them you'd be back with their drinks as you strolled back to the kitchen.

Once James finally took his eyes away from your swinging ponytail, he was met with three shit-eating grins. He glares back but their smiles do not falter, causing James to scoff with furrowed eyebrows. "What."

Dinner goes by in a flash with the friends enjoying their meals and sneakily changing the music from the jukebox, wands hidden under the table. The boys notice they just so happen to have a very attentive waitress, your lovely self coming around to their table often. It was interesting that even after they'd finished eating, you would appear to fill their almost overflowing cups with water or drop off extra napkins. James did nothing but send a dopey grin your way, and he does consider talking to you but freezes the second your big brown eyes stare back at him.

Remus groaned as he watched his friend be so pathetically consumed by you, setting down his now empty mug. "Prongs, tell me. Are you going to ask her out or just sit there with your tongue out like Padfoot begging for someone to throw him a bone?"

"I do not beg!" The dog animagi sputtered, hitting the dirty blonde beside him, "Tell 'em Pete!"

"Piss off Moony, it's not that easy. She's perfect."

Your shift was over, and truthfully it could've been worse. The table of four boys really made up for the more sour customers you had earlier in the day. The disappointment on your face was obvious when you had gone to clean their table and there was no number left behind on any of the napkins.

After finishing your closing duties you walked out the back door and turned the corner to find a large eagle owl perched upon the diner's bike rack. It wasn't too common to see owls in this area, but the shine of its feathers and well maintained claws tell you it's not from around here. Taking careful steps towards the bird, you offer your hand. It expanded its wings and flapped them twice at you before butting its head against the palm of you hand. You smiled and smoothed the beautiful creature's feathers back, now realizing there was an envelope sitting between the owl's talons. Taking the envelope and opening it up, you find a letter written to who you presumed to be yourself.

Dearest Y/N,

You have me infatuated with your beautiful smile and killer table waiting skills. I'm pretty funny and can show you a good time. Not like that though, unless you wanted t

What I mean to say is, I would throw all of England's tea in the ocean again if it meant I could win the honor of taking you out. On a date that is, not like killing you. I promise to make the night magical. I'll come by the diner next week with flowers and hopefully you don't punch me in the face for being a creep.

Yours,

James Potter

Smiling to yourself, you gave the owl one last pet and a thank you before pulling your wand out and disapparating home.

[deliciousangelfestival]

You're The One - 3

Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.

Character: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Words Count : 1,654

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky stopped the car abruptly in front of an outdoor gear shop, cutting the engine with a purposeful click. He turned to you, his intense blue eyes meeting your confused expression. “We’re stopping here.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your hands smoothing the delicate fabric of your wedding dress.

“You need to change your clothes,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

You crossed your arms defiantly, leaning back into the car seat. “No.”

He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as if summoning patience. “Do you really want to go skydiving in that dress?”

You looked down at the intricate gown you wore—a masterpiece of lace and silk, designed by a famous designer and stitched by twenty skilled hands. It was beautiful, the one thing about this doomed wedding you truly appreciated. “This dress is stunning.”

“It is,” Bucky agreed, stepping out of the car with a smooth, deliberate motion. He shut the door with a firm thud and walked around to your side. His leather boots crunched against the gravel as he moved. “But it doesn’t say anything about you.”

Your brow furrowed as he opened your door. He leaned down slightly, his posture commanding but his tone gentle. “The dress owns you, not the other way around.” He extended his hand.

You hesitated, your fingers brushing against his hand before accepting his help. His grip was warm and steady as he helped you out of the car.

Together, you walked into the shop. The heavy door creaked as it swung open, and a bell jingled above. Heads turned immediately. Customers and employees froze mid-motion, their eyes widening at the sight of you in your elaborate wedding gown.

You felt the weight of their stares, instinctively clutching the skirt of your dress. Your cheeks flushed, but Bucky walked confidently ahead, completely unbothered. His broad shoulders cut through the crowd as he scanned the racks with a laser focus.

“Here.” He plucked a practical outfit from the racks and handed it to you with a decisive motion. “Put this on.”

You held the outfit at arm’s length, giving it a skeptical once-over. “Who’s paying for this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t bring my wallet—or anything, for that matter.”

“Me,” he said simply, adding a pair of sturdy shoes to your pile without even checking the price tag.

Your brows shot up in disbelief. “Since when are you so generous? The Bucky I know pinches pennies.”

His lips curved into a small smirk, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’m rich,” he said, pointing to himself.

“You?” You folded your arms, tilting your head at him, clearly unconvinced.

“Yes, me,” he replied, leaning closer until his face was inches from yours. His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Now go change. We’re on a tight schedule.”

He stepped back and gestured toward the fitting rooms. You sighed dramatically but did as he asked. Inside the small, dimly lit room, you carefully slipped out of the wedding dress, taking your time to fold it neatly. Despite everything, you still hoped to return it. The new outfit fit perfectly, even the shoes, though you wondered how he’d known your size so precisely.

When you stepped out, Bucky was waiting, leaning casually against a rack of jackets. His eyes lit up as he saw you, and he gave you a playful double thumbs-up. “Much better,” he said, his voice warm.

You hugged the wedding dress to your chest. “What should I do with this? I want to return it.”

“Give it to me,” he said, stepping forward. His gloved hand brushed yours as he took the dress. “I’ll have someone deliver it to the church. Trust me.”

You hesitated, your fingers lingering on the fabric before letting it go. “Okay,” you said, though doubt flickered in your eyes.

“Now go pick out a jacket,” he said, his tone lighter as he nudged you gently toward another section of the store.

As you walked away, Bucky’s smile faded. He pulled out his phone and murmured something low and quick. Minutes later, a man appeared, dressed in an unassuming black jacket. Bucky handed him the wedding dress without a word. The man gave a curt nod and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

“Take it to goodwill. Now,” Bucky muttered, his eyes darting to where you were browsing jackets. “Don’t let her see you.”

“Sir…” A timid voice interrupted him. A young part-time employee stood nearby, her wide eyes darting nervously between him and the now-absent wedding dress. “Why… why was she wearing a wedding dress?”

Bucky turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Life’s complicated,” he said, his tone leaving no room for further questions.

“I’m ready,” you said, returning with a jacket in hand. He turned to you, his smirk softening into something warmer as he helped you slip it on.

“Perfect,” he said. With a hand lightly resting on your lower back, he guided you toward the exit.

As the two of you left, the employees gathered near the counter, their voices hushed but urgent.

“Why was she wearing a wedding dress?” one whispered.

“I don’t know, but they didn’t seem like strangers,” another replied.

Then the television behind the counter blared a breaking news alert. “Bride-to-be of the Jordan heir kidnapped on her wedding day!” Your photo flashed across the screen. Gasps filled the room.

“Oh my God, it’s her!” a cashier exclaimed. “And that guy—he’s her kidnapper?”

“They seemed… close, though?”

“Should we call the news?"

Unbeknownst to you, the breaking news of your disappearance was plastered across headlines. But you and Bucky were completely oblivious as you headed to the skydiving site, the tension between you giving way to cautious curiosity.

In the car, you stole a glance at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel casually, his jaw set with a quiet determination. Finally, you broke the silence. “Where have you been all this time, Bucky?”

He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, his lips quirked into a small, almost mischievous smile. “Around.”

“Around?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s not an answer.”

“I’ve been... working.” His voice was deliberately vague, but the slight tilt of his head as he glanced at you hinted at something more. “Made some money.”

You frowned. “Made some money how?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, brushing off your question with a shrug. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Before you could press further, the car pulled to a stop at the skydiving facility. The sight of the towering hangar and parachutes on display made your stomach flip. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you stepped out, staring at the planes in the distance.

“This was on your bucket list, wasn’t it?” Bucky said, walking up beside you. His voice was teasing, but his eyes held a knowing gleam.

“Yeah, but…” You glanced nervously at the sky. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, clapping a hand on your shoulder. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you despite the nerves swirling in your stomach.

Inside the hangar, you were fitted with a jumpsuit and harness, your nervousness growing with each passing moment. Bucky, already suited up, looked completely at ease, his confidence almost irritating.

On the plane, the hum of the engine filled the cabin. You sat next to Bucky, your fingers fidgeting with the straps of your harness. The plane vibrated slightly as it ascended, and your anxiety reached a peak.

“Wait…” You looked over at him, realizing something. “Why am I being tied to you?”

Bucky smirked, securing the straps that connected the two of you. “Because I’m already a certified instructor.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. “Since when?”

“Now.” He grinned just as the plane door opened, and without another word, he jumped, pulling you along with him.

“KYA!!” You screamed as the wind roared in your ears. Your stomach dropped as the world below turned into a blur of blue and green.

“Relax!” Bucky’s voice cut through the wind, calm and steady. “This is skydiving, Y/N!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, clutching at the straps holding you to him. “This is terrifying!” you yelled back, your voice shaky.

“Open your eyes!” he said, his tone softening. “Look around.”

Tentatively, you did. The endless expanse of sky stretched in every direction, the sun casting a golden glow over the clouds. It was breathtaking. The fear ebbed away, replaced by a quiet awe. The wind carried you like a whisper, and for a moment, it felt like freedom.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Bucky smiled, though you couldn’t see it. “Told you.”

Moments later, he deployed the parachute. The sudden jolt made you gasp, but then everything slowed. You floated gently toward the earth, the view below growing clearer with every passing second.

When your feet finally touched the ground, you stumbled a bit, your legs still shaky. Bucky steadied you, his hands firm on your arms.

“That was cool, wasn’t it?” he asked, his grin boyish and triumphant.

You glared at him, your chest heaving. Then, without warning, you shoved him hard. “You jerk! You scared me to death!”

Bucky chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “What? You survived, didn’t you?”

“You didn’t even warn me!” You jabbed a finger into his chest, which he didn’t even flinch at.

“Hey, I did tell you I was certified,” he said, still grinning.

“Certified idiot, maybe!” you shot back, crossing your arms.

He laughed at that, leaning closer. “But you had fun, admit it.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use!” you said, but the corners of your lips betrayed a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” he said smugly, clearly enjoying himself.

Before you could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Y/N!”

Both of you froze mid-banter, turning toward the source of the voice. Your eyes widened as you saw a familiar figure storming toward you.

“Clark?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Clark didn’t stop. His face was a storm of fury, his fists clenched at his sides. Without hesitation, he swung, landing a punch squarely on Bucky’s jaw.

Bucky staggered back but caught himself quickly, his head snapping toward Clark with a cold, steely glare. His tongue darted out to swipe at the corner of his mouth, checking for blood.

“Nice to meet you too,” Bucky said, his voice low and sardonic.

🔔💍🔔💍

Present Day

“Oh my God! He hit you?” Jade exclaimed, her eyes wide as she leaned forward in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his jaw as if recalling the punch. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “I let him have that one.”

Jade tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “Then what happened? Did Mom follow him?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His gaze grew distant for a moment, as though replaying the memory. Finally, he met Jade’s eyes, his smirk widening.

“Well… that’s the end part of the story,” he said, his tone teasing, leaving her hanging on the edge of her seat.

Jade groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Seriously, Dad?”

Author's Note:

What kind of wedding dress do you think she wore? Everyone reading this might picture something different. Share your ideas with Pinterest photos! 😊

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[roxxie-spirt]

The Goblin King wants the baby

THE LONG AWAITED POST‼️‼️ ( not the sk one… ) IM FREE FROM THE SHACKLES❗️❗️Anyways if you get why I named the post this then I like your taste in the classics. ( honestly IT REALLY FITS THE VIBE IM TRYING TO GO FOR ) the rest is close ups including some lasso lore!

Reference : if you choose to rewatch this scene it’s at the end of ep 43 S1 warning, Jess’s voice acting does not do the scene I’m going for justice

The sheer terror of your baby boy who isn’t old enough to walk suddenly walking outside of the building you brought him to to watch and seeing the self proclaimed Casanova who you left in the shadow realm, so you can save some crazy Shaman. IN MYSTERIOUS ARMOR HOLDING A GOLDEN LASSO BY YOUR BABY BOY. I dunno about you but that’s pretty scary

The golden lasso! The easiest relic to create if you have a basic understanding of magic and soul harvesting. The bull soul must be harvest ethically or the lasso or string will not work ( usually there’s a farm of bulls and they’re taken care of until the day they die) in order to lasso someone they must being consenting towards it or it just doesn’t work, as for baby’s it’s tricky and sadly it’s very easy to kidnap a kid like that which is why there’s the bell kids are taught a jingle when they’re young so they can alert someone that they’re trapped in a lasso, but as I said babies kinda are up for the napping SO WATCH THEM ‼️‼️ as for the golden string it doesn’t trap someone it binds the souls of the wearer ( usually wore in weddings)

[seresinhangmanjake]

Oh, Baby Universe: dad!Jake Seresin x female reader

You might not have been his girlfriend, but when you left town one night a month after sleeping together, it completely broke Jake’s heart. Now, a year later, you’ve returned and you’re not alone. You have a new little companion that just so happens to bear a startling resemblance to Jake.

Oh, Baby: Jake learns he’s a dad

In the Night: Jake has nightmares that you leave him again

His Girls: A domestic moment with dad!Jake

The Other Mother: your mother comes to town

Birthday Boy: It’s Jake’s B-Day and you have a special gift for him

It’s What You Make It: Jake’s mother makes an unexpected visit

And Honey, I’ll Make It All Okay: Jake’s Dad shows up.

Nothing Better than What We’ve Got:You’re finally ready to have a ring on your finger

I’ve Promised You Forever: Jake and his Honey are married

The Prequel:

Oh Honey: Part 1

What Once He Had: Part 2

Gone: Part 3

Related Fics (jump around in the timeline):

Everything and All of It: Reunion...stuff;)

A Little Love: cuteness during a family grocery trip

Daddy Knows Best: Eve says her first word

Oh Wow: Flashback to when Jake first sees you

Methods of Love and Trust: Jake lets his mother babysit for the first time. 

Jingle of The Bells: Eve is worried Jake won’t make it home for christmas

That’s Definitely a Name: Eve helps name her baby brother.

The Favorite: the Daggers meet Eve for the first time.

Drabbles:

Eve is upset when Jake has to leave

the rules of Disneyland

Eve learns about Baby #2

Eve’s got a new guy

First Night Home

AUs:

Your Way Back to Me: Oh, Baby AU. What if you didn’t return after Eve was born and it was decades later before you met Jake again? And how would he feel to find out his best student might be a bit closer to him than he initially believed? 

Now that I have you (Part 2 of Your Way Back to Me)

Because You Stayed: What if you never left?

Moodboards:

Jake x Honey

Jake x Honey with Eve

Jake x Honey Elopement

Oh, Baby Wedding

Eve’s First Birthday

Coach Jake & Jake x Honey in Texas

Oh, Baby Christmas

Baby Boy

Jake Seresin Masterlist Main Masterlist

[weirdlookindog]

The Bells

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

I.

Hear the sledges with the bells—                  Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells!         How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,            In the icy air of night!         While the stars that oversprinkle         All the heavens, seem to twinkle            With a crystalline delight;          Keeping time, time, time,          In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinabulation that so musically wells        From the bells, bells, bells, bells,                Bells, bells, bells—   From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II.

        Hear the mellow wedding bells,                  Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!         Through the balmy air of night         How they ring out their delight!            From the molten-golden notes,                And all in tune,            What a liquid ditty floats     To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats                On the moon!          Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!                How it swells!                How it dwells            On the Future! how it tells            Of the rapture that impels          To the swinging and the ringing            Of the bells, bells, bells,          Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,                Bells, bells, bells—   To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III.

         Hear the loud alarum bells—                  Brazen bells! What tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!        In the startled ear of night        How they scream out their affright!          Too much horrified to speak,          They can only shriek, shriek,                   Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,             Leaping higher, higher, higher,             With a desperate desire,          And a resolute endeavor          Now—now to sit or never,        By the side of the pale-faced moon.             Oh, the bells, bells, bells!             What a tale their terror tells                   Of Despair!        How they clang, and clash, and roar!        What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air!        Yet the ear it fully knows,             By the twanging,             And the clanging,          How the danger ebbs and flows;        Yet the ear distinctly tells,             In the jangling,             And the wrangling.        How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—              Of the bells—      Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,             Bells, bells, bells—  In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV.

          Hear the tolling of the bells—                  Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!         In the silence of the night,         How we shiver with affright   At the melancholy menace of their tone!         For every sound that floats         From the rust within their throats                  Is a groan.         And the people—ah, the people—        They that dwell up in the steeple,                  All alone,         And who tolling, tolling, tolling,           In that muffled monotone,          Feel a glory in so rolling           On the human heart a stone—      They are neither man nor woman—      They are neither brute nor human—               They are Ghouls:         And their king it is who tolls;         And he rolls, rolls, rolls,                     Rolls              A pæan from the bells!           And his merry bosom swells              With the pæan of the bells!           And he dances, and he yells;           Keeping time, time, time,           In a sort of Runic rhyme,              To the pæan of the bells—                Of the bells:           Keeping time, time, time,           In a sort of Runic rhyme,             To the throbbing of the bells—           Of the bells, bells, bells—             To the sobbing of the bells;           Keeping time, time, time,             As he knells, knells, knells,           In a happy Runic rhyme,             To the rolling of the bells—           Of the bells, bells, bells—             To the tolling of the bells,       Of the bells, bells, bells, bells—               Bells, bells, bells—   To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

Illustrations by Granville Perkins (1830-1895) and Alfred Fredericks (1853-1926)

Engraved by Jas. W. Lauderbach, 1881

[its-time-to-write]

Ohhh love to see you’re back! 💜💜💜💜

How about a Jaime x baker!girlfriend? Maybe she doesn’t really know who he is so when he acts all arrogant she just throws him out of her bakery? And he’s like “her! I want her! I’m in love! 🥰 🥰🥰🥰”

Still feeling a bit rusty lol. Next on the docket is the married at first sight fic. Not sure how long or short it’ll be but I’m doing my best!! Thanks for the requests🩵🩵

god, it’s brutal out here

“How many cakes do we have?” you mutter. “Four. Four cakes. I should’ve stuck to pastries. But nooo, I had to show off my fancy decorating. Fuck me.”

The door chimes, signifying the first customer of the day. You sigh, slap one more sticky note on the wall, then head to the front.

Today will be like every other day, which is nice; a revolving door of customers, some looking for a quick bite and others placing larger orders for weddings, birthdays, dinner parties. 

Baking is a ritual; you wake up early every morning, make a fresh cup of coffee, then begin mixing, kneading, and measuring. It’s a dance; you weave between the fridge, the oven, and the counters. It’s a science; you slice with precision, check temperatures for perfection, bake until golden.

Late in the afternoon, after you’ve closed, you’ll bring leftover bread and desserts to your flat for your friend group’s weekly dinner. Everyone will contribute something, from appetizers to mains to drinks. The weather is nice enough that dinner will be in your backyard and you mentally choose dishes as you take customer orders. 

Your bakery closes in five minutes when the bell jingles once, twice, three times. You sigh. Three fucking closers. 

The last is a man around your age and you won’t lie, he’s objectively good looking. But his teeth are just a little too sharp and his clothes are just a little too flashy. He’s like one of those frogs, brightly colored so you know they’re poisonous.

He rattles off a long order without giving you a moment to really take it down and then just stares expectantly at you when you tell him the total.

“Cash or card..?” you ask after a beat. The man tilts his head.

“Neither..?” he replies, mirroring your tone. “I’m Jamie Tartt.”

You grimace. “And you expect free pastries because your last name is on the menu?”

“I’m Jamie Tartt,” he says again. “I’m like, really fucking famous.”

He has a stupid grin plastered on his face and you really can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

You stare at him in disbelief. “I don’t have time for this. I think you should go.”

Jamie’s a little shocked. It takes him a moment to actually register your words but he does. He turns on his heel and you lock the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief. Any thoughts of his beautiful face are distorted by his shit, entitled personality.

—

“I brought tequila,” says Dani with a grin. “And a friend.”

The dinner party is already in full swing but this is classic Dani. Always late, always with tequila, always with a surprise.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of ours,” you reply. “Everyone’s out back. Flo’s grilling and Ed’s in charge of music.”

You and Dani shake your head. Ed should not be in charge of music. 

“I will go fix this,” Dani says and then he’s off, leaving you alone with his friend.

You turn to introduce yourself and see-

“Jamie Tartt,” you state. It’s all you can do to hold in a snarl.

“Hey,” he says, and at least he’s sheepish. How someone like him is friends with Dani is beyond you.

It does make a little bit more sense, though. Dani is a footballer (you know that at least) so you’re assuming Jamie must be in that world as well. You should have known, he was the exact type of pretty and stupid you’ve found most footballers to be, professional or otherwise.

“What’s your problem?” you ask bluntly. “You’re friends with Dani, but you’re an entitled dick. How does that work?”

The tips of Jamie’s ears tinge red. “I- it’s not like that. I mean, it fucking was like that but not anymore and besides- was flirting.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“It’s true!” he hastily continues, “just were doing a piss-poor job. Didn’t come out like I meant it to.”

“You can say that again,” you agree and Jamie flinches, slightly.

“I am sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to be a prick. Roy says it’s just the way I am, it’s in my fucking bones or something. I’m working it though,” he adds. “I can tell you about sometime. Maybe over dinner?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

Jamie shrugs. “What have I got to lose? You already look like you fuckin’ hate me. Can’t get much lower than that.”

“Maybe,” you reply. “Going to ask need a drink first though. If you’re friends with Dani you’ve got to have something going for you, but I still think you’re a bit of a prick.”

Jamie smiles. “I can work with that, love. Let’s get you that drink.”

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter two || extortion

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. will have a happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 6.1k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

The smell of cherry blossoms brought a smile to your face as sunlight spilled through the beautiful buds. It was your favorite time of the year and while you and Miriko didn't often share thoughts without intending to, you could feel the enjoyment and relaxation absolutely brimming from her soul. You didn't have it in you to cut her off completely during moments like this, even for both of your safety. Especially when in truth, this was what she enjoyed the most about a domestic life.

Your shoes scuffed quietly over the paved surface on the way to a small coffee shop. Nothing would hit the spot quite like tea on a day like this one.

A bell rings over your head as you push through the door of a small local shop. Smiling politely at the cashier, you order a London Fog. In a few short moments, you were sitting at a small table in the corner, browsing your phone while you quietly sip your tea. Every so often the small door bell would ring but you paid it little mind, sitting in your own world.

Every now and then you found yourself reflecting on the strange life you lived since Miriko awoke. It was too dangerous for you to live in the city, too dangerous for you to hold a normal job. You had gotten lucky that a wedding flower business had worked out at all for you, and even luckier that Miriko had graciously offered her gift to you to aid with that.

Even luckier was Miriko herself. What would have happened had she been a malicious curse? Would you have been put down by Gojo like so many other curses? Would Miriko have killed you? Would she have forced you to search for the remaining cursed object to awaken her after all these years? You often wondered why she seemed to have no interest in such a thing, but you weren't about to test your luck in asking. You trusted her with your life, and yet sometimes you found yourself fearing her. You often referred to her as a miracle, but there were moments that reminded you she was a curse.

The bell above the door jingles once more but you pay it no mind, focused on reading a book on your phone. That is, until Miriko’s warning of a curse-user catches your attention.

Raising your head, you lock eyes with an all-too-familiar white-haired man. At least, you assumed you were staring at one another from behind his black blindfold. A lump forms in your throat as he makes his way towards you without hesitation.

“Well if it isn’t miss y/n,” he greets you with a smug grin, pulling out the chair across from you and taking a seat without asking permission. He leans forward on the table, paying no mind to the frown you now dawned.

“I can’t help but feel like nothing I say to you ever seems to matter,” you grumble quietly, eyes narrowed behind your pink sunglasses. You cross your arms over your chest, setting your phone down on the table before you.

With a chuckle, the cocky man shrugs and leans back with arms crossed behind his head. “How’ve you been?”

Perplexed by the question, your features twist in confusion. Small talk? You didn’t know Gojo well but you knew well enough that he wasn’t one to seek you specifically out to chat, unless- oh shit. Had he come looking specifically for you? You swallow the lump in your throat at the realization that there was no world where he casually happened to stroll into your favorite coffee shop on the other end of town.

“What do you want, Gojo?”

His eyebrow raises at your hostility, though he’s quick to brush it off. “I want to know how you’ve been.” He grins as he pushes the two front feet of his chair off the ground.

“I was better five minutes ago,” you retort venomously, your eyes narrowed behind the tint of your rose glasses.

“Ouch,” he feigns hurt, “and here I thought I was reconnecting with an old friend.”

Shaking your head incredulously, you barely manage to keep your eyes from rolling. “Friends don’t kidnap each other.”

“Touché,” he hums, his smirk never once fading despite the topic. He leans forward, grabbing your tea and taking a sip to your complete and utter disbelief. The way he so confidently strode circles around you, how were you meant to make heads or tails of his actions? Could he possibly believe he had any good will left with you? Surely he knew he was in no place to be making requests of you after your last two meetings with him. And yet-

“Do you need something?” Your eyes widen slightly and you take in your surroundings, searching for other sorcerers, but there were none. Of course he had come on his own, this wasn’t a coincidence. Before he could respond, you questioned him further. “Wait, how did you find me? Did you follow me?” You lean forward as you accuse him of following you.

Matching your energy, your adversary leans forward on the table. “No, I didn’t follow you,” he grins, “I came to get coffee.” You had to fight the scoff in your throat at his blatant lie. “But now that I’ve got you here, I do have a favor to ask.”

This time you don’t fight the urge to roll your eyes, leaning back as you stare out the window. It’s too nice of a day to be getting harassed by Satoru Gojo. “You’re joking,” is all you mumble in response.

The white-haired man clicks his tongue. “Listen, I teach a group of students and one of them is just like you,” he says, his voice growing more serious. You dare to turn your gaze back towards him, examining the way he takes a sip of your tea as he leans in further. “The higher-ups want me to kill him when it comes to it. That’s not the world I want for this kid. That’s why I’m here.”

Given the Shibuya Incident a few months ago, you’re well aware of Sukuna’s vessel. Miriko was familiar with Sukuna and had filled you in on the details of the king of curses and his twenty cursed fingers.

“Gojo, if anything, you owe me after you showed up uninvited,” you respond exhaustedly. Gojo’s smirk falters as you rub your eyes in disbelief, blinking your eyes back open to see him still overly joyful. He was some asshole, expecting anything more from you given your current feelings towards him. “This isn’t my problem anyhow.”

“It will be,” his voice lowers. You stare discontentedly at him as he moves a hand through his snowy locks. “If he can’t control Sukuna when he gets the twentieth finger…” Gojo trails off, frowning. “I’ll win, of course,” he grins, narrowly missing your eyes rolling back into your head for what felt like the twentieth time this morning. His silence speaks volumes, the serious frown he dons all the information you need to know what he’s thinking.

“I’m not killing a kid,” you hiss, your voice low in the extremely public cafe setting. “You can tell me over and over it’s Sukuna, I am not-”

“I’m not asking you to,” he interrupts, letting out a long sigh. “It’s my job to prevent that outcome.”

There’s always a but.

“But,” he begins, leaning in further. “If I fail, if I can’t find a way to separate or defeat him,” he pauses again, lips parted. “I don’t think there’s anyone else capable of defeating him.”

You could only blink as you took in the information. Clearly he cared a great deal about his students. He was an asshole, not heartless. That became abundantly clear when he showed up at your door. You had to figure that he likely also believed that Miriko was whole, which you didn’t plan on correcting him about any time soon. On top of that, he was asking you for something that he didn’t understand the cost of. Sukuna’s death at the cost of your own life, of Miriko’s? Was that something you were willing to give?”

No. Do not humor him, y/n.

Miriko has been practically screaming since the moment he’d made the request, and you could do little more than ignore her despite the headache her outcries were bringing on.

“Let me get this straight,” you tell him, laying out the facts. “You want me to train the vessel to control Sukuna, or figure out how to separate them with my knowledge of being a vessel,” you glance up at him from where you were staring at what was once your London Fog. He nods, his carefree smirk returning. Oh how you hated that smirk and blindfold- “and if you fail, I have to kill him.”

“That about sums it up,” he grins all-too-cheerily.

“And if I say no?”

“Well, if Sukuna’s free you’ll end up fighting him at some point,” he shrugs slyly.

“So you’re extorting me,” you state blandly. “I agree and run the risk of having to kill someone, or I disagree and I run a bigger risk of killing someone.”

He shrugs, barely reacting. “Unless I succeed on my own,” his voice grows darker as he pulls his blindfold up just enough to see the sly glint in his eye. “But this is Sukuna we’re talking about.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you sigh. You weren’t left with much choice and between the draconic curse in your mind uttering obscenities at the man sat before you and the person in question both about to give you a headache, you could only rub your temples to attempt to alleviate your oncoming headache.

“If we both fail?”

He sits forward, nodding slowly. He had clearly considered the possibility whether he believed he would fail or not. “It’s a risk,” he admits. “But I have better odds this way.”

You ball your hand into a fist as you watch him take another sip of your London Fog. The audacity he had to walk in, take your drink, extort you, and all for what? An act of self-preservation? So that he stood a chance against Sukuna? He was using you. Your jaw clenches as you sigh, trying to contain your anger, your cursed energy flaring like a stoked fire.

That seems to be all he needs to see to realize he’s won as he gets to his feet, pushing your tea back across the table. “Careful, y/n,” he teases with a tilt of his head. “Wouldn’t want to lose control now, would we?” Miriko’s anger boiled alongside yours in your stomach, and you had to consider him incredibly lucky given that you were able to keep your own curse at bay. “Be packed, a driver will be at your place by noon,” he tells you as he strolls out the front door.

He never even ordered a coffee.

Liar.

–

You’d been dragging your feet on packing, debating the concept of leaving before a car could ever arrive. When it came down to it, he’d found you before and he would find you again. In fact, you had grown more and more certain over the past twenty four hours that he’d always had an eye on you, though you didn’t know enough about him or the Jujutsu Society to know exactly how.

The least you could be thankful for was that you rarely, if ever, used your technique beyond growing flowers for your business, a reversed version of your usual technique.

Your heart drops at the sound of tires rolling over the gravel path beyond your gate. Although Miriko didn’t say anything, you could feel her irritation growing. You didn’t share all of your thoughts or emotions with her unless they were strong, though with every encounter involving the head of the Gojo clan, you knew exactly how she felt at all times.

A knock at your front gate pulls your attention back to reality and with a wistful sigh, you make your way to the noise. Standing at the gate is a tall man with short black hair and glasses. He greets you kindly, introducing himself as Ijichi, and you greet him in return. He offers to take your bags and opens the back of the vehicle for you, turning with wide eyes as you begin to lead Taro into the vehicle.

“Oh, um, I don’t think-”

“No dog, no sorcerer,” you hiss unintentionally, feeling bad the moment it comes out. You sigh, composing yourself. “Sorry,” you grumble as he nods finally. He seems uneasy, though you suppose someone with as low of a cursed energy output as himself driving someone like you around would do that.

Each moment staring out the window left you longing for it to last longer. Just one extra moment back in your cozy cabin running your business. Anything to keep you away from Jujutsu Tech.

The school was tucked in the trees just on the outer edge of Tokyo, well-hidden by a barrier that seemed to allow your passage. As the car slowed to a halt, Gojo’s presence irked the curse hidden within you and you struggled to keep down the growing feeling of irritation, unsure if it was your own or Miriko’s emotions that were influencing you.

“Look who made it!” Gojo called excitedly, much to Miriko’s dismay. You had her on a short leash, choosing to suppress your cursed energy on the school grounds. You could only hope Gojo was keeping the majority of your secret beyond what was necessary to know about you. You shoot him a grim look before forcing a more agreeable smile to the woman who stood alongside Gojo. She wore a cute blue turtle neck with a long lab coat over it, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders. A toothpick hung from her lips, her tired eyes wrinkled at the corners as she smiled at you.

“Shoko, this is our newest special grade sorcerer, y/n,” he waves his hands in the air towards you. “This is Shoko,” he introduces you to her, “our resident doctor.”

She waves kindly at you. “Satoru mentioned you’ll be joining us for a bit so we set up a private cabin for you,” she tells you, waving somewhere behind her to where the cabin was set up.

As she speaks, Taro hops out of the car behind you, his happy demeanor changing in an instant to a growling one as he bares his teeth to Gojo. He’s a good boy. Still, you tell him to relax and he sits happily beside you.

“And who’s this?” Shoko greets your dog as her tone changes to one more fit to speak to a dog. You chuckle at the site, laughing.

“That’s Taro,” you introduce him. His tail happily swings from side to side as Shoko leans down to scratch behind his ears. Beyond you and Miriko, he wasn’t too familiar with other humans so the interaction was thrilling for him.

“Well isn’t he just the best? Yes you are!” She stands once again, composing herself as she gestures for you to follow with a calm smile. You spare a glance at Gojo as you gather your bags, who grins slyly at you. Choosing to ignore him, you snap your fingers as a signal for Taro to follow as you fall into step with Shoko.

Your eyes wander the length of the school grounds before you, mostly open fields with several massive buildings extending at their length. There was a group of six students sparring towards the end of the field, though the sight of one of them in particular caused you to pause.

“That’s a panda,” you state in bewilderment, hearing Shoko’s amused hum.

“He’s a student,” she tells you as though it’s completely normal, gesturing for you to continue following her.

“What have I gotten myself into?” You whisper quietly to yourself.

“So, where’d you come across Gojo? He mentioned you’re special grade, not many of you around,” Shoko comments casually, quietly eyeing you. 

“I’m pretty sure he kidnapped me last year,” you bite your lip at the thought, “and then he extorted me.” Grimacing, you meet the shocked face of the woman who was leading you in the direction of a small cabin tucked away in the trees.

“Wow.” She gapes, shaking her head. “That’s a new low, even for him.”

“So he’s not always an asshole?”

Shoko laughs with a shake of her head. “No, but he could certainly do with a lesson in manners. He’s always been like that though, you get used to it.” She stops in front of the small cabin, turning towards you. “Wait, so how exactly did he convince you to help us if he’s kidnapped and extorted you?”

Shrugging, you set your bags down now that you were stopped. “The extortion was a part of this arrangement,” you state plainly, though you knew at the end of the day there was at least some bit of irony to this entire situation that Shoko couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Well, Gojo’s a dick, but I promise he does have good intentions,” catching your raised eyebrow, she continues. “Either way, I’ll give him a good smack for ya.”

You sigh with a small chuckle. “Thanks, Shoko.”

She gives you a tour of your small cabin, letting you know where she and everyone else would be situated should you need them. Shoko’s infirmary was in the building just across the field from your cabin, while Gojo’s own cabin was in view of yours. Turning to leave, you hesitantly stop her.

“Hey, what’s special grade?”

Her eyes widen in shock that you aren’t aware, uncertainty flashing momentarily in her eyes as she explains to you the meaning of your assigned grade and how few other sorcerers had such a class.

You thank her quietly as she makes her way out to the infirmary, turning back to your new house. Your new home. Light sifts through the sheer curtains that hang on the window above the kitchen sink, a warm glow illuminating the wooden interior of the small cabin. The cabin had a full kitchen to your right, a dining table placed towards the back of the kitchen area and a small living room with a television and couch to your right. Stairs cascaded up from the corner behind the dining room table to a loft with a queen bed and a small night stand on either side adorned with a lamp. There was even a dog bed in the corner of the room.

In all honesty, it left you a bit shocked. Although tucked away in the trees, there was lots of space for Taro to explore and even for you to grow flowers should you desire to.

On top of that, Shoko seemed nice which you were grateful for, and figured should you need any help you would be able to go to her rather than Gojo, which you were grateful for. The only difference that was beginning to get to you was how lonely it felt in comparison to your home. Despite the amount of people here, Miriko had grown very quiet. It was unnerving, but you weren’t about to push her given how uncomfortable you both were with the situation.

Maybe she would come around later.

–

Holding your hand out, Taro excitedly drops his favorite ball into your hand, his tail wagging wildly. Giving it a toss, you smile as he dashes away after it. The golden rays of the setting sun shone on the Rottweiler’s gorgeous black fur, and you were so caught up with his enjoyment that you didn’t notice someone approaching.

“Do they have a name?”

Jumping in surprise, you stare in shock at the tall blonde man standing at the edge of the steps you were sitting on.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, no longer focused on Taro. Examining the blonde, you notice he’s wearing a light blue button up with slacks, as well as a yellow tie. From the way he’s standing, you can only see one side of him, but the straps across the side of his head tell you he’s got an eye patch as well.

“No worries, I wasn’t paying attention,” you forgive him quickly with a dismissive smile. “That’s Taro.”

The blonde turns his head to face you and you’re able to see his entire left side appears to be covered in scar tissue. Is this what it’s like to be a sorcerer?

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself, watching with mild amusement as your dog barrels excitedly towards him, doing small spins as he drops the ball he’d been chasing at Nanami’s feet.

You introduce yourself in turn and Nanami nods, committing the name to memory as he adjusts his sleeve and throws the ball for Taro.

“I hear you’re-” Nanami begins, though you interrupt him.

“Yeah, I’m special grade.”

“-Quite the flower connoisseur.”

You stare at one another, your mouth agape at how rude you had accidentally been. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed-” you desperately try to backtrack, but Nanami shakes his head.

“I understand,” he shoots you a lopsided smile. “Gojo did also inform everyone of that, to my knowledge.”

“Right,” you mutter wistfully. A breeze ruffles Nanami’s carefully coiffed blonde hair as he carefully observes you. The way his deep brown eyes quietly examined you should have sent a feeling of unease through you, but his presence was oddly calming.

“You should make use of the yard,” he motions to the grassy area Taro was barreling around, vigorously shaking a toy. “It’ll be a nice change of scenery around here.” He tells you before curtly waving and heading on his way. 

He seems nice, you think to yourself, leaving the thought open for Miriko to respond, although she doesn’t. You head back inside to get settled for the night, only managing to throw your hair up into a bun before someone is already at your door.

Your visitor calls your name and you groan in response. No matter how hard you tried, there was no escaping Gojo.

If I ignore him, will he leave? You ask Miriko, hoping that maybe just this once she’ll respond.

Surely, to your surprise she does.

Continuing to clean and unpack, you ignore the sing-song tone Gojo uses as he calls your name and continues to knock.

“C’mon, I know you’re in there,” he calls as he knocks again. Completely suppressing your cursed energy, you begin moving slow and quiet in hopes he’ll get the message. “Cursed energy doesn’t change the fact that you’re in there and you hear me.” With an irritated sigh, you stop suppressing your cursed energy, able to connect to Miriko again.

I will kill him.

You chuckle at the Death curse, sighing as you open your door.

“What do you need?”

“I need you to come with me,” he grins from where he’s leaning against your doorway. He no longer has on his blindfold, his blue eyes peeking at you from over his black shades. You glance at the clock, shaking your head. “No chance, I’m gonna read and go to bed. It’s already eight.”

“How old are you? Exactly, it’s only eight, you’re coming with me.” He beckons you along with him, turning to wait for you on the steps. You grimace, flipping your gaze back towards the cabin to find an excuse, but Gojo catches on too quickly. “Nuh uh, c’mon,” he beckons again. Silently complying, you let out a breath and lock your food behind you, keeping a small distance between you and him.

“How’re ya settling in?” He asks, glancing in your direction.

“Been better.”

Gojo wasn’t a fool. He knew you were being short with him. He was well aware you weren’t his biggest fan, though he had done what he needed to do in order to keep an eye on you and put in place a contingency plan.

“Aw, c’mon!” He grins, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he turns to face you, walking backwards. He catches the way your eyes narrow at him from behind your own glasses, choosing to ignore the look. “I’m doing you a favor if you think about it.”

“I’d love to hear how you think you’re doing me a favor. Really, amuse me,” you spit out, rolling your eyes as Miriko’s anger fuelled your own. It was hard to ignore her emotions when they were practically running through your veins when they were strong.

“Well, for starters you’re surrounded by just about the best there are for bodyguards,” he motions cockily to himself. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You could potentially save some lives,” he muses, “and to top it all off, you have a great cabin and don’t need to hide anymore.”

The audacity that this man had to suggest that you, a vessel that no one knew of, who lived a life in a beautiful cottage of your own creation outside of town, had the option not to hide in the cabin you didn’t want to be in to begin with. You hadn’t realized your feet had planted themselves on the ground as you stared at the white-haired asshole in disbelief.

“You’re kidding, right?” Your words come out far more hurt than you intend. “You took my safety from me over a year ago. You, single-handedly, took my safety, you took my life, and now-” you find yourself choking on your words as anger bubbles in your throat. You step forward, pointing a forefinger straight at Gojo’s chest, though it never connects with him due to a force you can't see. “Now I’m in more danger than I ever have been! I’m surrounded by people who don’t know what I am, who don’t know what I can do, who don’t know why I was hiding to begin with, and it’s all because of you!” You growl, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight tears now that you were full-on yelling at the taller man. And that only makes you angrier, what person wants to cry when they’re yelling? “And you know what, Gojo? To top it all off, the only reason I’m here at all is because you decided if someone had to kill a child, it may as well be me,” your words drip with venom, shoving your finger nearly against his chest. Your body begins to shake but you don't waver, burning red eyes looking for a sign that he felt even a little bit bad.

The sign never came, though. He stood before you, letting you vent your anger at him with little more than a frown. He doesn't respond, just stands before you in silence. The worst part is that you want him to react. You want him to yell back. You want him to feel something about what he had done to you. You want a reason to leave, a reason for him to let you leave. But still, he stands in dead-still silence. His piercing blue irises are hidden by his sunglasses in the darkness that surrounds you both and you can't make out anything about his expression.

Letting your hand hang back at your side, you drop your gaze to stare at your feet. Your chest heaves as you struggle to regain your composure, teeth gritted furiously. Silence surrounds you both, only interrupted by the sounds of summer cicada and the occasional whistle of the breeze. The cool night air is brisk, but a welcome feeling against your warm skin.

Taking one last glance up at Gojo, you watch as he simply turns to leave, heading along in the direction he was leading you.

“I- I’m going back to the cabin,” you stammer, stumbling back in the direction you came, struggling not to cry. You didn’t catch him turn back towards you, hands in his pockets again.

“Look, I don’t care what you do,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “but Shoko sent me to get you. She put together a fire with faculty staff.” Your gaze falls to the ground, though you were listening. Your brow furrows when you realize he almost sounds hurt. “Besides, you should probably meet the people you’re workin’ for.” And with that, he turns away from you and begins walking back to the fire. Holding your head in your hands for a moment as you let out a deep sigh, you wipe the tears from your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself down and very slowly follow Gojo, keeping enough distance that he wouldn’t talk to you. Admittedly, you hadn’t realized it wasn’t him you were working for, so it did make sense to meet everyone while they were all gathered.

You approach a corner towards the back of one of the buildings, light dancing across the ground the closer you get. Fire licks at the night sky, sparks disappearing among the stars above as you pause with a wry smile.

“Y/N!” Shoko calls, waving you over to her. Relief washes over you as she drags a camping chair close to her. You’re glad to find Gojo settling opposite the fire to where Shoko beckons you. Several other voices of different faculty members greet you as you pass by, the only person rising to greet you was a man who appeared older than the rest of you were.

“Yaga Masimichi, nice to meet you,” he bows, pleased as you introduce yourself and bow back. “Thank you for your assistance, I’ve heard good things from Gojo.” You nod, forcing a smile at the mention of Gojo’s name. The man sits back down and allows you to take a seat beside Shoko. Nanami’s to your other side, and as parties weren’t your usual scene, not to mention that you weren’t in the greatest mood, you were grateful for the two somewhat familiar faces.

You were quickly introduced to Choso, Nitta, Ijichi, and Atsuya, although you were familiar with Ijichi from the ride here. You introduce yourself only for your heart to drop as questions are immediately thrown your way from the faculty members you were just meeting.

“I hear you’re special grade,” Nitta comments.

“So I’ve been told,” you sigh, trying to mask your tiredness.

“Special grades don’t pop up outta nowhere,” Yaga comments, eyes narrowing. “‘Specially not at your age. How were you unregistered for so long?”

Heat creeps up your neck to your ears and you shoot Gojo a glance, unsure of what he had told his boss. Your boss. You gingerly move a strand of hair from your face, a strange sensation of being in trouble creeping up on you. The feeling was reminiscent of being back in school, something you certainly didn’t miss.

“She’s from outside the city, not many curses out there,” Gojo explains casually, which you’re thankful for. Given what he’d put you through it was the least he could do.

A waterfall of questions poured from the group at that, your eyes wide as you tried to get to everyone’s questions. Questions about where you were from, your hobbies, how you met Gojo, and your technique (which you did your best to avoid), were thrown at you from left and right. Nanami, Shoko, Choso, and Gojo stayed mostly quiet though Gojo smirked through the interaction. You were just relieved he kept his mouth shut for once.

Sensing your exhaustion at the onslaught of questions, Nanami tilts his head towards you, speaking only to you rather than the broader group. They had finally moved on to a topic apart from yourself and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You don’t need to stay here, you know,” the blonde quietly tells you. You meet his careful gaze in surprise, noticing now that he looks as tired as you feel. He leans back in his chair, looking equally as thrilled to be at the fire as you were.

“I mean,” you worried your lip between your teeth, “I should probably stay,” you reason. “After all, Shoko set this up as a welcome.”

Nanami’s brow furrows as he curiously tilts his head. “Satoru organized this for you.”

You stare blankly at Nanami, sparing a glance at Shoko who was deep in conversation with Choso. Gripping the arms of your chair, you shoot a nod at Nanami, getting to your feet and thanking everyone for the warm welcome before excusing yourself. Your gaze briefly lands on Gojo from behind your tinted glasses. Although you weren’t able to see his full expression from behind his black glasses, you noticed his smirk falter when he found your stare.

You turn back to Nanami, who was standing as well and he nods as a signal for you to lead the way.

“You don’t want to stay back?” You question curiously.

He shakes his head. “No, I have work tomorrow,” he explains. “And while I do often work out of Jujutsu Tech I’m not a part of the faculty staff.” You nod slowly, uncertain of how the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers works. “I don’t usually stick around past five,” he tells you, his eye fixed straight ahead.

“Sorry you’re here so late,” you apologize, though he shoots you a small smile.

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. A comfortable silence falls over you both as he walks you to your cabin in the dim moonlight. You tilt your head to get a better look at him, noticing that not unlike Shoko, he had a rather gaunt look to him as though he hadn’t slept in a long time. Even so, he carried himself in a much different way than Shoko did. He had a much more somber and serious attitude than it had seemed the rest of the faculty did.

“How long do you plan on staying?” He interrupts your thoughts, catching your stare. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’d been caught.

“However long Gojo needs me, I guess,” you sigh quietly.

Eyebrow raised, Nanami turns his head to face you fully. “You aren’t here by choice?”

“You could say that,” you laugh dryly. The cool breeze blows through your hair as your cabin comes into view. “Gojo didn’t leave me with much of a choice.”

“I see. I suppose that was you arguing with Gojo earlier, then?”

You freeze, nearly tripping over your feet. “You heard that?”

Nanami stops, facing you as he quietly examines your features. “We couldn’t hear what you were saying, but we did hear the argument,” he explains. His vision follows you as you take off your sunglasses for a moment to rub your eyes before replacing them on the bridge of your nose. They didn’t make it easier to see the man in front of you in the dim moonlight but you certainly didn’t need to raise any suspicions regarding your eyes that weren’t unlike Gojo’s. Interrupting your thoughts, Nanami’s voice brought your attention back to the sorcerer in front of you. “May I ask you a question?”

You nod cautiously, almost certain he would question you about your technique.

“I recognize that it wasn’t your first choice to help Gojo and I can’t blame you for that,” he hums as he earns a wry smile from you. “However, do you plan on helping Itadori?”

“Itadori? Sukuna’s vessel?” Nanami nods. “Oh, um, I do.” You shuffle uncomfortably. “I don’t mean any harm.

“I didn’t assume you did,” Nanami turns back to continue leading the way to your cabin. He adjusts the tie around his neck to hang more loosely as he clears his throat. “Itadori could use a more reasonable mentor than Gojo. He’s brash and needs to learn when it’s best for him to stay back. He could use someone like you,” Nanami’s gaze softens and you catch a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “He’s a good kid.”

You smile softly in return. “I’ll do my best.”

Nanami hums, clearly satisfied with your response.

You come to a halt at your door, turning to face the kind sorcerer. “Thanks for walking me back.”

Nanami had stopped at the edge of your porch, nodding. “Here,” he holds his hand out, “let me leave you my number. Send for me if Gojo gives you too much trouble,” he offers. Heat rises to your cheeks, dusting your ears a rosy red that you could only hope he didn’t see in the moonlight.

“Oh, sure,” you agree as you hand him your phone. He has it for only a second before handing it back. “Thanks again,” you smile, turning to part ways.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || Thank you for all the love on the first chapter!! I've written and even finished more fics than I'd like to admit but just never seem to have the courage to post them so I appreciate all the love ♡

[hunnylagoon]

hey! I want to request a fluffy one shot about ellie being a parent with the reader. The rest is in your hands, write what comes to ur mind!

Small Hands

Summary: People say that the magic disappears when you have children, that never applied to you and Ellie, you are just as hopelessly in love as the day you were married. You celebrate Christmas with your friends and family despite a few bumps in the road.

A/N: I usually don’t fuck with kids but this concept actually seemed really cute to me. This chapter is a bit shorter, sorry if it’s rushed, I wrote this while studying for my exams. Thank you for requesting! If anyone else has requests, feel free to leave them and I will get around to them! There is the smallest teensiest weensiest smidgen of a angst in the middle but it comes from a third party. Warning for mentions of postpartum depression

-

The air was infused with the spicy aroma of gingerbread and the warm glow of twinkling lights as a group of friends gathered for their annual Christmas party. The cozy living room, adorned with tinsel and stockings, echoed with laughter and the jingling of bells. The adults, each holding a mug of steaming cocoa (with a splash of Bailey's), exchanged stories of the year gone by while the children, eyes wide with wonder, eagerly awaited the arrival of Santa Claus.

The living room sparkled with the joy of reunion, as friends who had become family over the years shared in the holiday spirit. You being the hostess of the party, had a flair for festive decorations, you had turned your home into a winter wonderland, complete with a towering Christmas tree and a crackling fireplace. "Levi, get away from there!" Your eyes went wide and you slammed your mug onto the coffee table before you ran to retrieve your son who was wearing an elf onesie and had been attempting to pull out bottles from the wine rack. Your friends and family laughed at the scene "Geez," You grabbed him from beneath his arms and scooped him up, quickly bringing him close to your chest. He had just turned four and was rapidly getting too big for you to carry him. You put him on the ground and ushered him toward the game room telling him to go play with his sister while all of the children were playing some kind of board game or watching the Polar Express. "Where is your mother?" You mutter under your breath, gaze suddenly focusing on the sink full of dishes, you sigh and walk towards them, figuring it easier to get them done now as opposed to when the part has ended and you're too exhausted to do so.

In the tranquil kitchen, the rhythmic cadence of water splashing and the clink of porcelain against stainless steel create a melodic backdrop as you diligently tend to the post-dinner ritual of washing dishes, humming along to the song 'Last Christmas' which you could hear ever so faintly rise above the busy chatter of the living room. your hands, adorned with soap bubbles, move with a graceful choreography, navigating each plate, glass, and utensil with practiced efficiency. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminates the dance of water droplets, casting a prism of reflections on the gleaming surfaces. The scent of citrus-scented dish soap permeates the air, as you, lost in thought, scrub away at remnants of roast chicken and mashed potatoes.

"There's my girl," You feel a pair of arms snake around your waist, you didn't need to turn around to tell who it was; it had of course been your wife, you looked down at where her hands rested on your midriff, her silver wedding ring glistened beneath the warm overhead lighting in the kitchen.

"Are you aware your son is trying to get into the wine rack again?" You turn around to face her, her hands changed from their spot on your waist to the edge of the kitchen sink, leaving you stuck between her and the counter, faces inches apart.

"What can I say? He's got drinking problems," She teased, gaze flickering to your lips for a minute.

"That's all you," You said, your faces were so close that you could've sworn that you could count every single freckle on her face. Without warning, Ellie puts her hands back onto your waist to pull you close, she plants little kisses on your neck, earning a giggle from you "Really?" You laugh "Is me washing dishes really that attractive?"

"Oh, absolutely," She thought you were so incredibly stunning, even in something as simple as a red cable-knit sweater with faded mom jeans and hair tied up sloppy in a claw clip. You had only bought the claw clip in the first place because your daughter told you they were trendy.

"Okay, seriously, there are kids here," You laugh, gently pushing Ellie away from you "We can save that for later."

"You just look so beautiful," Ellie wears a goofy smile on her face.

"In mom jeans?"

She shrugs "As beautiful as the day I met you, if not more."

You can't help the huge smile that consumes your face. You and Ellie had met in college, she was a bartender and you went to her bar every single Friday just to see her, all of your friends sat in a booth but you would always push for them to sit at the bar when they refused, you sat alone just to talk to the pretty girl behind the bar. "Do you remember how we were spending Christmas in College?"

"One bottle of peppermint schnapps and a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels."

"You're forgetting a game of strip poker," You add.

"That's probably because I was hammered off my ass," She says bluntly and it makes you laugh. Back in college, the pair of you made plans to fly home to see your families but a snowstorm had other plans, with arrangements cancelled you went back to each other, cozying up on Ellie's beat-up couch and dumping schnapps into eggnog, god it tasted awful but the sound of Ellie laughing, her cheeks and nose pink from cold air almost made it taste better.

"You know..." You say, drawing Ellie's attention "I think it might be time to start the gingerbread house contest."

Ellie is way ahead of you, she leaves the kitchen and enters the game room, you can tell the exact moment she announced it by the kid's reactions all you heard was cheering before a dozen kids stormed out of the game room and gathered around the dining table where you had meticulously placed a gingerbread house decorating kit at each chair as well as little bowls full of several colours of frosting and miscellaneous candies lined down the center.

Parents sat next to their children or stood behind them, either rooting for them or guiding their small hands along the gingerbread, aiding the decorating process. Ellie sat between both of your children "Levi, you can eat it after you build it," She chuckled, gingerly moving the plastic butter knife of icing to the edge of a wall for the gingerbread house, "See? You put icing along the edges and then you stick it together and then when it dries, you have a house!" She explained in simple terms to your youngest, turning her head to look at your daughter who was too busy conversing with her friend to decorate "You should be listening to this too, Kenna, useful tips," She teased. Kenna rolled her eyes, she was ten years old and at that stage where she was starting to get embarrassed by her parents. Ellie laughed at your daughter's reaction, locking eyes with you from your spot by the doorway where the two of you share a look of understanding.

"Uh oh, looks like Papa's intervening," Dina said, she stood next to Jesse, cradling her baby, JJ, in her arms, watching the scene unfold.

"Alright, kiddo, here's what we're gonna do." Joel shooed Kenna's friend away, replacing her. Under hushed whispers he explained a plan to Kenna, the two were discussing a layout to win the gingerbread contest.

"Oh, it's getting heated now," Ellie said, now moving her focus onto Levi's sloppy gingerbread house.

Everyone was in the festive dining room, laughing and talking, truly in the Christmas spirit, all except for one; you heard what sounded like faint sobs coming from the kitchen. With furrowed eyebrows, you followed the sound and found none other than your friend, Catherine crying into her hands.

"What happened?" You break the silence, catching her attention.

Catherine begins to wipe away tears, shaking her head "It's nothing, it's so stupid-

"Well, it's not nothing if you're crying." You cross your arms. Catherine can't seem to get the words out, she just shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut in her best attempt to push back tears, her blue eyes red and puffy "Whatever it is, I'm not going to judge you."

"It's just-" She takes a deep, shaky breath" Sometimes I wish I wasn't a mom, I just wish I could pack up my bags and leave in the middle of the night and never come back." Catherine was an English teacher at a middle school, you had met her not long after you met Ellie. She was also a new mother, she had only had her baby girl, Clementine for six months; you saw how tired she was, she always for dark bags under her eyes, she used to intricately braid her dirty blond hair every day but now she only had the energy in her to tie it up into a loose bun. "I'm sorry," She laughed "I don't know why I'm crying."

"Because it hurts." You answer, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Your daughter ran into the kitchen with a huge smile on her little face "Mom, you need to see my house, Papa Joel is helping me and it looks really cool so far-" Her smile faded in the slightest when she saw you with Catherine, "Is Cathy okay?"

"She's fine, sweetheart," You kneel to eye level with Kenna "Her tummy just hurts from too much hot chocolate so I'm gonna take care of her for a bit." You brush one of Kenna's lose hair behind her ear and plant a kiss onto her freckled forehead "Just go back to making your house, I'm sure it looks awesome, I promise I'll come see it when it's done but I think your auntie Sarah would love to see it." Kenna nods casting one last look at Catherine who turned around to hide her tear-stained face from your daughter and hurried out of the kitchen. "Cath, let's talk outside." You move towards the sliding door on the other side of the kitchen, you hold it open for Catherine who follows you outside, immediately hugging herself in an attempt to fight off the cold. "So, where is this coming from?"

Catherine looks around the snow-covered yard, she sees the snowman that your children made with Ellie the day before and it only adds to the unbearable weight on her shoulders "I'm not good at this, I'm a bad mom-

"No, you're not-

She lets out another sob "Like just now, you are so patient with Kenna and Levi, you and Ellie have this incredible house and an amazing family, you guys never fight and I just feel like I'm falling behind."

"You're crazy if you think Ellie and I don't fight, we argue all the time about the stupidest things, like earlier we fought about who would pop that champagne cork. We fight, but that doesn't mean that we don't love each other, I'm sure you feel the same way about Emmet."

"I love Emmet," She says "I really do and I love Clementine so so much I just wish I had a minute to breathe." Catherine can hardly look you in the eyes "I work with kids all day and take care of them and then I get home and it's just more of the same but there's cooking and cleaning and it's endless."

The silence stretches between you two. Catherine's face is scrunched up, her pale turning red from the cold. With each unsteady breath, she heaves, a cloud of carbon dioxide emerges. The sleet covering every inch of ground acts as soundproofing over the neighbourhood, the only thing you can hear are birds flapping their wings and Catherine's heavy cries.

"Do you remember when I wanted to be a writer?" She asks "When I used to have dreams, I would hole myself up in that one corner booth of that coffee shop every Sunday and I would write for hours on end."

"And every time someone mentioned a book or movie that they like, you would ask what they liked about it so you could use bits of it in your writing." You say, your lips stretching into a thin melancholic smile at the memory.

"Well, it's all gone out the window." She was shaking by that point, not from the frigid air or her now wet socks but from misery "Two years ago I was hosting wine-tasting parties and Emmet was taking me out to these beautiful high-end restaurants. I could fit into sleek back dresses and wear high heels for hours without getting blisters, now all I eat is Kraft dinner and takeout. Every nice blouse I own has gotten baby vomit on it."

The way Catherine is speaking, she sounds bitter with despair hanging in her tone. You at a loss for words, postpartum depression was common but you hadn't realized just how much Catherine was suffering. She had spent six months feeling this way with no one to talk to. When you first adopted Kenna you were terrified, you thought that you wouldn't have a mother's instinct and that you were going to screw her up in some way or that she would resent you because you aren't her biological mother.

"I haven't got a full night of sleep in six months, all I hear is that fucking screeching cry. That's all she does is scream, she screams when she's happy, when she's sad, when she's upset and angry, it's all I hear and I'm so fucking sick of it." She buried her face into her hands "Emmet just loves her so much, he does everything with her without complaint and I can't help but hold the slightest bit of resent for her, I probably sound evil right now."

"You don't," You pulled Catherine in for a hug. Embracing her and all of her sadness, if it belonged to her then it belonged to you as well. "I'll tell you this right now, it's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better." Her head was tucked into the crook of your neck.

"That isn't helping-

You pushed her away, holding onto her shoulders, forcing her to face you. "Remember when you adopted that dog?"

"Toothless," She smiled at the thought of her old Labrador.

"He was a puppy when you adopted him, he had way too much energy, barked at every sound, and pissed and shat on the floor of your apartment a lot," You say, face dead serious despite the subject matter "That night before exams when you were exhausted and all you wanted was to sleep, you tucked yourself into bed and Toothless was right beside you and then he pissed all over your white duvet. You called me and you just cried and cried because you were so stressed and that was the tipping point. How about that time he dragged your period-stained underwear out of your laundry basket when you had a date over-

"Okay, I get it," Catherine laughed.

"My point is, when that puppy stage passed, you were in love with that dog, you blew off plans just to take him on walks downtown. If you had a bad day, you would curl up on the couch with him. Not that I'm comparing your child to a dog but when this postpartum leaves, that child is going to be the light of your life. Fridays at the bar won't sound appealing when you can make popcorn and watch Disney with your daughter, nothing else is going to matter as much as that girl. When Clementine gets older you'll find that every eye-roll means you're doing something right."

"Is that true?" She asks "About the eyerolls?"

"No," You laugh "It's just something I say to make Ellie feel better."

Catherine chuckles, wiping away what remains of her tears. "Thank you."

"I know it feels like it's the end of the road but it's not. It gets easier every single day but that's the hard part, you need to get up and face it every single day." Your words calm Catherine down. Her tears dissipate and with a deep breath she is no longer shaking "We should go back inside now, I wanna see who won the gingerbread building contest." You sling an arm around her and guide her back inside through the sliding door.

"But my socks are wet." She says, hesitant to step back inside.

"I'm sorry for making you stand in the snow but that conversation needed to happen," You urge her inside anyway, not caring if your freshly cleaned kitchen floors get wet "I'll lend you a pair of slippers."

You and Catherine return to the dining room where the contest is just wrapping up, both in fuzzy slippers; the pair Catherine wore had little black spotted cows on them while yours were teal and made to look like Perry the Platypus, a gift you received from Ellie out of the blue because she thought they were hilarious and wanted both of you to have a matching pair. "Just in time," Dina says, she's wearing a white turtle neck and blue skinny jeans, leaning against the wall, watching her husband with a smile "They're about to announce the winner."

Ellie is speaking in a hushed voice with Jesse who is holding JJ in one arm, she's acting as serious as ever and even pretending to ask JJ for his opinion, the baby just babbles in return "Interesting, thank you, JJ," She says. Ellie turns to the crowd, everyone goes silent waiting for her words "The consensus is... You are all winners!"

Many of the older kids groaned in annoyance, all of the adults knew this was coming that didn't stop Tommy from saying that it was outrageous.

As the night unfolded, the kids, bundled up in cozy sweaters, gathered around a table filled with art supplies to craft their ornaments. Laughter filled the room as little hands carefully adorned paper snowflakes and painted wooden stars. The parents, caught in the infectious energy of the children, joined in the crafting, reminiscing about their childhood holiday traditions.

With bellies full and hearts warmer than ever, the group of friends settled into a circle around the fireplace. The children, tucked in cozy blankets, many of the kids fell asleep in the game room while 'Home Alone' played on the TV.

As the night drew to a close, the guests exchanged hugs and well wishes. The flickering lights of the Christmas tree cast a soft glow on the scene as the friends, with their children in tow, bid farewell, knowing that the memories forged on this magical night would linger in their hearts long after the last snowflake had fallen. Parent hauled their sleeping children away into their cars, putting a close on the night.

Ellie took Kenna, hand in hand, to the bathroom, making sure that she thoroughly brushed her teeth. She tucked her daughter in, giving her a kiss on the forehead. Kenna tried to argue that she wasn't tired but the second her head hit the pillow her eyes shuttered closed and any chatter she had in her was replaced by soft breaths emerging from the sleeping girl.

You had taken Levi straight to bed, he was already passed out when you found him curled in a ball on a blanket in the game room. He gently put him down on his bed and pulled a Spider-Man blanket over the top of him to keep his little body warm. You made sure that his night light was plugged in before stepping away and closing the door, but not all the way, you left it open a crack, just the way he liked it.

And so, the echoes of laughter, the warmth of shared moments, and the spirit of togetherness lingered in the air, a reminder that the company of cherished friends and family had just left, leaving you and your little family to sit in the static quiet of the fireplace crackling.

The air is still tinged with the scent of cinnamon and pine, and a soft glow emanates from the myriad of twinkling lights that adorn every corner. The Christmas tree, a majestic centrepiece, stands tall and proud, its branches adorned with an array of ornaments that glisten in hues of red, gold, and silver. A cozy fireplace crackles merrily, casting a warm embrace upon the room. Festive stockings, embroidered with care, hang in anticipation of surprises. Plush blankets drape over sofas, inviting you to sink into their warmth. Every surface seems to gleam with the holiday spirit, from the gleaming silverware on the dining table to the festive wreaths that adorn doorways. The ambiance is a symphony of holiday joy, where every decoration tells a story of cherished traditions and the magic of Christmas despite the displaced blankets and dishes, as well as random craft supplies that were somehow everywhere.

"We should probably clean this up before bed," You say, bending down to grab a throw blanket off the floor.

Ellie grabs your wrist to stop you "That's what tomorrow is for," You turn to face her "Right now I just want to be with my wife."

You grin "I don't think I'll ever get sick of you saying that."

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of saying it."

You kiss Ellie, she has one hand pulling you in from the small of your back. "I think I have a crush on you." You giggle.

"A crush on your wife?" Ellie raises an eyebrow "Who could imagine that."

"No I mean, I obviously love you but there's a difference between being in love and having a crush, we've been married for fourteen years and I still get excited when you call me pretty. I can't help but stare at you in a room full of people and when you look back I get butterflies because I just can't help but be thankful that I got lucky enough to have you." Your lips curve up into a smile "I don't think that was corny enough," You say sarcastically.

Ellie kisses you again, it is simple and sweet, like the taste of sugar resting on the tip of your tongue "I guess I have a crush on you too," She looked so pretty in her jeans and red flannel, sporting the haircut you gave her with pride; whenever someone mentioned her haircut she would get all giddy and say 'My wife did it!'. An idea snaps into your mind, and you swiftly break away from Ellie and kick off your Perry the Platypus slippers, jetting to the kitchen to the sliding door and running outside. Ellie calls after you, with no response, she follows your trail of teal slippers. She pokes her head outside "Honey?" She calls into the night, and instead of your voice answering her she is decked in the face by a snowball. "Ow!"

With rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes, your breath forming clouds in the cold, launched the first snowball, its trajectory guided by both precision and mischief. Ellie, undeterred, retaliated with a well-aimed throw which truthfully fucking hurt when it crashed into you as she used to play softball and didn't know how to gently throw anything. The world around you transformed into a playground, each snowball being thrown with more power.

As the not-so-friendly competition unfolded, your movements became a dance—a graceful ballet of dodges and throws. The landscape bore witness to their camaraderie, marked by the hushed giggles (trying your best to stay quiet enough that you didn't wake the kids) and the occasional shrieks of delight. Frost-kissed eyelashes framed your beaming faces, capturing the essence of a moment suspended in the magic of winter.

The cold air filled with the warmth of your connection. You both paused, momentarily breathless, her laughter echoing in the serene stillness of the snow-covered landscape. Amidst the snow-laden trees and glistening ground, you and Ellie shared a quiet gaze—a fleeting, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond that stayed unbroken with each tossed snowball.

Your cheeks flushed with both the chill of the air and the thrill of the game, finally forfeited, coming out from your shielding spot behind the shed, you laughed as you approached Ellie, moving your delicate hands to shake snow out of her hair. The memory of the evening lingered, a cherished chapter in the story of your enduring love.

[gacmediadaily]

via Candace's IG

[zombholic]

| 𝐃𝐑. 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 |

𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗮𝘂, 𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗯𝗯𝘆, 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘇𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝘀𝗳𝘄

“when i kill myself imma make sure to add this job to my suicide note” you rolled your eyes as you and your co-worker cleaned the spilled caramel frappuccino off the table and floor.

“we don’t get paid enough for this shit honestly” your co-worker, jesse, exhaled from his nose in annoyance throwing the rag in the sink. hearing the bell jingle indicating a customer just walked in to order the most outrageous drink known to man.

“im going on my fifteen, don’t call for me” jesse took his apron off, walking onto the back. turning to the register you looked at the customer only to be greeted with the most gorgeous woman you have ever laid your dull eyes on.

“hi, what can i get you started on?” ripping your gawking eyes off the tall woman to look at the register. “just a large black coffee please” she smiled taking out her wallet “guessing that’s going to be hard to take off the floor” she chuckled referring to the spilled frappuccino.

“oh my god i know! i don’t get paid enough for this” you put in her order “you probably get paid so damn good” you clicked your tongue looking at the scrubs and white coat she was wearing. getting a laugh out of her she nodded “yeah, well i am a doctor.” “well doctor can i get your name for your, don’t take offense nasty coffee decision.”

“abby, and none taken it’s the only thing that keeps me awake for twenty-four hours” she pays for her drinking before going to sit down to wait for her order. jesse arrives back with the most irritated expression plastered across his face, you start brewing hot coffee as you looked around making sure no one would hear what you were going to say to him.

“that lady over there” you nudged his arm while pouring the coffee in a plastic cup “i already planned our wedding and how many kids we’ll have” he scoffed, shaking his head, grabbing a mop to clean off the coffee on the floor “why do you always have a thing for the milfs” giving him a menacing smile as you called her name for her to get her coffee.

“have a great shift doctor abby” you handed the coffee over, feeling your face get hot just by looking at the goddess “you too sweetheart” she shot you a wink before walking out the door.

groaning loudly as you threw ur head onto jesse’s arm “if i don’t see her again i will actually throw myself off a bridge” he pushed the mop handle into your hands “im going to send you to a mental facility y/n” he laughed watching how you were so mesmerized by someone who is possibly straight and married with three kids.

—

you had the opening shift today so it was just you all by yourself, you contemplated throwing yourself out your moving car but decided not to. opening the glass door you had at least an hour before the cafe was open, going on with your usual opening routine you went by the door to flip the close sign to open.

leaning over the counter scrolling on your phone since it was a small coffee shop and not many people come in at 7am on a sunday. hearing that god annoying bell ring you put your phone away only to see the love of your life walk in. “doctor abby, i remember you” you gave her a giggly smile.

“i remember you too ms…“ she squinted at your name tag “ms. y/n, i’ll just get a-“ “black coffee?” you finished her sentence “great memory” she let out a soft laugh “not really, i have the worst memory known to man actually, it’s just no one really orders black coffee” you started brewing up her a new batch.

“so doctor, can i ask how old you are?” you wanted to make conversation with her, “i’m thirty-two actually, what about you?” “twenty-one” yes you had a thing for older women but who wouldn’t? “how long does it take to like become a doctor? also what kinda doctor are you?” you handed her the coffee leaning over the counter, your hands holding up your head.

“i wish my interns asked as many questions as you do” she copied your leaning on the counter but on her side “i’m a cardiologist and almost 14 years, i had to graduate high school early” she took a sip of her coffee before looking at her watch wrapped around her wrist.

“oh a heart doctor, you must be so damn smart, must be nice” you both laughed “have you ever done a heart transplant?” you had a lot of questions for her, not like you weren’t interested, you just think asking questions is flirting.

“yes, i’ve done a lot of heart transplants. i’m gonna be late for work but i’ll talk to you next time sweetheart” she waved you a goodbye before leaving out the door again.

should i ask for her number next time?

AUTHORS NOTE: hey :) im back, dont worry, im already making a part 2, my first series ever!! also my inspo goes to @eightstarr i love their doctor!abby txts!!

[redrose10]

Sorry this has taken so long…Here is #10 from the picture game. I hope it’s okay!

Warnings: Angst, slightly suggestive, hints of loosing virginity, small mentions of death and seeing a therapist as well as mental health struggles, cheating , swearing, mention of divorce

September 8th, 2003

To Whomever It May Concern,

My name is Min Yoongi. I live in Daegu. I am in the fifth grade. My hobbies include basketball, music, and sleeping. My teacher said that we have to write a letter that will be sent to a random pen pal. I think it’s a dumb idea but it’s mandatory. So here it is.

September 15th, 2003

Dear Yoongi,

My name is L/N Y/N. I received your letter. I also think this is dumb but I need the extra credit so here I am. I am also in the fifth grade. I like to cook with my grandma. I love animals and purple is my favorite color. I look forward to hearing from you again.

You laughed as you read over the wrinkled faded letters one by one. At the time you did think that writing to a pen pal was the dumbest idea that your teacher came up with specifically to torture you. The guy you were writing was cute at least. The attached school photo showing a gummy smile and beautiful eyes. At the time you didn’t know how much that letter would become a part of your life.

November 1st, 2003

Dear Y/N,

What do you like to cook? I don’t cook much but I love when my mom makes kimchi stew. It’s starting to get cold. I hope that you are able to stay warm.

November 12th, 2003

Dear Yoongi,

It is getting colder which makes it the perfect weather for kimchi stew. It’s almost time for Christmas. That’s my favorite time of the year. Do you have a favorite Christmas Movie? Mine is Home Alone.

December 11th, 2003

Dear Y/N,

My favorite Christmas movie is also Home Alone. I prefer to listen to Christmas music but I will deny it if anyone asks. Do you have a favorite song?

August 14, 2005

Dear Yoongi

I’m sorry that I never wrote you back. We moved and I lost your address. I just found it again though, if you even still live here. You don’t have to write me back if you don’t want to. I just always felt bad for leaving you hanging without an explanation.

By the way…my favorite Christmas song is Jingle Bell Rock.

You remembered that time of your life. Your parents got divorced and you moved in with your mom. Your grandma suddenly passed away not long after. Your best friend moved across the country too. It felt like your life was falling apart and you wanted some sense of normalcy so when you came across Yoongi’s address you decided to write him even if you thought you might die from embarrassment. You folded those letters back up and gently put them back at the bottom white wooden chest in front of you.

September 9th, 2005

Dear Y/N,

I wondered what happened to you. I didn’t mind. They didn’t make me write letters any more at least haha. I’m glad you’re okay though. I just got back from my cousins wedding. It was very boring. If I ever get married I’m going to wear a blue kangaroo onesie or something, ya know to spice it up a little. Have you ever thought about getting married?

October 12th, 2005

Dear Yoongi,

Oh my god, I’m sure your mother will be thrilled to watch you get married in a blue kangaroo suit. Weddings aren’t too bad but I’ve only ever been to my Aunt’s wedding. Her maid of honor got super drunk and started dancing on a table until it collapsed. It was pretty funny. I’ve never really thought about my wedding. I think I’d want to elope but I know my mom would cry if I did that. As long as I marry my best friend I don’t care though.

December 17th, 2005

Dear Y/N,

Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy the holiday and break from school.

February 26th, 2006

Dear Yoongi,

I hope you had a great holiday! We went to visit my grandpa. It was really nice. I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. I’ve been busy packing. We’re moving again in a couple months. My parents said I can finish this year with my friends but I’ll have to start a new school next grade. I’m scared.

March 3rd, 2006

Dear Y/N,

I think it would be exciting to start over somewhere new. Don’t be scared. I’m sure it’ll all be okay. You can still write to me if you want. I’ll always be your friend.

You were scared. Your mom had accepted a job a few hours away. Your parents agreed to to let you live with your dad for the remainder of the school year but then you’d have to move back with your mom and start at a new school the following semester. It was terrifying until you realized something as you were addressing a new letter to Yoongi.

April 8th, 2006

Dear Yoongi,

Thank you for being my friend. That is comforting knowing that I can always write to you. I just realized we’ll be going to the same school though. Maybe we can meet up some time and be friends in person. Is that weird? Anyways I hope to see you in a few months.

August 2nd, 2006

Dear Y/N,

Sorry it was a crazy busy summer. I had to work on my grandparents farm. Wow yeah it looks like we’re going to the same high school. We should meet up! Meet me underneath the maple tree at the front of the school before first period.

That was the most nervous you had ever been. Your heart rate increased as you walked towards the guy waiting underneath the tree. He was even cuter in person. Part of you didn’t want to meet him. Part of you didn’t want the letters to stop as you were sure they would now that you were at the same school. But you pushed forward greeting him with a shy smile which he quickly returned. Your friendship really evolved that day.

September 18th, 2006

Dear Y/N,

I know it’s kind of silly to write you a letter when we already spend almost every day together but I miss it. I really hate our algebra class. I swear Mr. Park is trying to make sure I never graduate. I think I’m going to try out for the basketball team. I might really have a shot at making it. If I do I hope you come to all of my games!

October 1st, 2006

Dear Yoongi,

Mr. Park is not trying to force you to fail. Maybe if you actually paid attention instead of staring at me the whole time you’d actually learn something… I know you’ll make the team, they’d be dumb not to take you. And of course I’ll be in the front row at every game!

And you were there. Yoongi was the star player. You attended every game cheering for him as loud as you could. You were shocked when after the championship game Yoongi pulled you in for a kiss. Neither of you mentioned it again after that night though.

August 21st, 2007

Dear Y/N,

Can you believe we’re in our second year of high school already? I know we haven’t written letters in a while but it seemed right. I’m excited for this year!

September 3rd, 2007

Dear Yoongi,

I was wondering when I’d get a letter… I’m ready for this year. I can’t wait for another basketball season too. I might look into drama club or something. That sounds fun. I’ll see you at Taehyung’s on Friday right?!

September 8th, 2007

Dear Y/N,

I’m sorry I didn’t come up to you at Taehyung’s party. I saw that you were getting pretty cozy with Hoseok and didn’t want to interrupt, anything going on between you two by the way? Not that I really care or anything but as your best friend I think I deserve to know.

September 8th, 2007

Dear Yoongi,

I’m literally sitting right next to you at the lunch table. We can just talk. But no nothing is going on between me and Hobi. I was actually asking him if he knew when you were going to show up.

September 8th, 2007

Dear Y/N,

Okay cool because I wanted to ask if you would go out with me. I’m sorry I don’t have the courage to say it to your face and have to ask you in a letter.

September 8th, 2007

Dear Yoongi,

Yes I will go out with you...but only if you promise to wear a blue kangaroo onesie at our wedding.

September 8th, 2007

Dear Y/N,

I will wear whatever kind of suit you want me too, birthday suit included ;)

You could still remember how hot your face felt that day. You had a huge crush on Yoongi and were planning to confess to him at the party but he never showed up. You were over the moon excited when he confessed first.

The next several letters were just little bits and pieces here and there. Yoongi took a vacation with his family. You got a part time job at an ice cream parlor. They were all important to you in their own ways but you were looking for one in particular and after some searching you found it.

July 11th, 2008

Dear Y/N,

I can’t believe we’re going to be going into our senior year of high school. Last night was amazing. I hope you’re not too sore. I’m sorry if I did or said anything dumb. I was so nervous but I’m thankful that my first time could be with someone that I love so much. You’ve gotten me through so much and I’m excited to see where the rest of our lives takes us.

July 11th, 2008

Dear Yoongi,

You were nothing but gentle and sweet and amazing. I’m glad I could share my first with you too. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I love you Yoongi.

That night was one that you would never forget as long as you lived. The love that you two felt for each other was overwhelming and you never thought it would ever change.

January 22nd, 2009

Dear Yoongi,

You are a meanie boo beanie. That is all.

January 23rd, 2009

Dear Y/N,

I am a meanie boo beanie but I’m your meanie boo beanie. I’m sorry I forgot that I was supposed to drive you and your sister to the concert. I really am and I promise I’ll make it up to you both. I love you.

You chuckled as you folded up those letters. Teenage you had no self control sometimes. You probably called him twenty five times and sent who knows how many texts. He stayed calm through it all and apologized to both you and your sister. He got you guys flowers and took you both out to dinner. It was probably super hard on his wallet as a teenager but he still did it without even a frown. You never realized how much that meant to you.

August 21st 2010

Dear Y/ N,

It sucks we ended up at different colleges. I really really miss you. Sometimes I regret our decision. I hope you’re doing well and everyone is treating you good. If anyone tried anything let me know and I’ll be there so fast. I love you Y/N.

September 5th, 2010

Dear Yoongi,

I know I miss you too. I hate that you’re six hours away from me. I’m already counting down the days until winter break when we can finally be in each others arms again. Be safe and make good choices. I love you Yoongi.

January 3rd, 2011

Dear Y/N,

I know you just left but I miss you so much already. Your friends seem really nice, but I’m super suspicious of that Namjoon. I’m keeping an eye on him (just kidding…not really though). Before you know it summer break will be here and we can be together again. I love you Y/N.

January 9th, 2011

Dear Yoongi,

Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I was so warm and comfy in your arms. Summer break can’t come soon enough.

PS. You don’t have to keep an eye on Namjoon. He’s nice and all but you’re then only one I want to be with. I’m more worried about all of those women constantly following you around…I love you Yoongi.

Oh boy you sighed to yourself. If you’d both only known the weight of your words in those letters at the time. The next few letters were thankfully light hearted and sweet. Yoongi made the basketball team. You surprised him by driving all day to make it in time for his first home game. Algebra was once again kicking your ass and Yoongi had a particularly hard time in Organic Chemistry. He got a job at a record store and you worked part time at the campus book store. You spent the summer break together before returning to your respective colleges. All normal and nothing upsetting. Then things quickly went south.

November 8th, 2011

Dear Y/N

I miss you like usual. Sometimes I really think about switching school. I’d give up all that I have here to be with you. I love you Y/N.

January 13th, 2012

Dear Y/N,

Christmas was nice wasn’t it? My mom loves that sweater you got her. She wears it almost every day. My brothers coming to visit for a couple days. It’ll be nice to see him since he couldn’t make it home for Christmas. I hope everything’s good on your end. I love you Y/N.

March 7th, 2012

Dear Y/N

It’s starting to warm up just a little. I’m glad because I hate the cold. The only thing it’s good for is cuddling. I miss seeing your face and kissing you. I know we text and call each other like every day but I miss your letters too. I hope all is well. I heard from your mom that you and Namjoon are working on some huge research project together. I’d love to hear about that sometime. Like maybe when we get together over spring break? I love you Y/N.

March 18th, 2012

Dear Yoongi,

I’m sorry I haven’t been writing as much. Things have just been so crazy that I feel like I have no time to even breathe. I’m so sorry I can’t make it for spring break. You sounded so heartbroken over the phone and it kills me. At least summer break is right around the corner right?! This research project is gonna be the death of me. Tell your brother I said he’s a doofus!! I love you Yoongi.

July 21st, 2012

Dear Y/N,

I’m sorry I had to cancel our summer plans. Coach is just so worried about this upcoming season but I didn’t expect him to hold a mandatory summer camp. I know you said you weren’t crying but I could hear it in your voice m and it’s been killing me ever since. At least we had those few days together. You ready for the next semester? You’re gonna kill it!

August 26th, 2012

Dear Yoongi,

How are your classes so far? I heard you got a job at a record label. I’m sorry if you told me that over the phone. I must’ve missed it. How’s that going? I bet you’re impressing all of them.

November 1st, 2012

Dear Y/N,

It’s getting cold again. I hate it but at least the trees look pretty. I’m sorry I missed your birthday party. I got the invite so last minute and I couldn’t get time away from work. I’m going to make it up to you, I promise. They have me working with this singer, Mia. I’m producing one of her songs. It’s my first solo project. She’s so talented. I think she has the ability to really go places. Anyways, I sent you a gift. I hope it got to you in time.

November 15th, 2012

Dear Yoongi,

I got it. Thank you. It’s a beautiful necklace. It would’ve been nicer to have you there with me though. I’m really proud of you and I can’t wait to hear the song. We’re planning a trip to the mountains. Namjoon’s parents have a cabin up there. Let me know if you’d like to join us. It would be nice to see you.

You took a deep breath trying to forcefully stop tears from falling and ruining your makeup. Yoongi in fact did not join you guys at the cabin. He didn’t even mention it. That was also the worst birthday you had ever had. And you knew his excuse of getting the invite too late was complete bullshit because your best friend told you she sent it to him three months in advance and he agreed to come but then cancelled the night before the surprise party. You never told him that you knew that. You also never told him that you spent that night crying into Namjoons chest. It was that moment that you knew your relationship was changing but you had no idea just how much.

The letters stopped for quite a while after that, for both of you. Truth be told the calls and texts slowed down too. When you pulled the next letter out of the box you took a long deep breath. You had wanted to rip this letter to shreds but you knew that would make you quite the hypocrite given what was written in your own letter beneath it.

May 11th, 2013

Dear Y/N,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in so long. I’m really sorry that there is a disappointing reason for me to write this letter. I’m also sorry that I’m too much of a coward to tell you this myself……I’m so sorry Y/N. I fucked up so bad. There was this girl…Mia. I can’t remember if I’ve ever told you about her. But she’s signed to the record label and we’ve been working together a lot and FUCK…I’m sorry Y/N. We were both drunk and I just miss you so much and one thing lead to another. I know that’s the oldest, sleaziest excuse in the book but it’s true. I regret it so much. She doesn’t mean anything like that to me. I just needed to release some stress and frustration and it just happened. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry again Y/N. I know I’ve said that like a million times already. I know we can get past this but I also know that if I never hear from you again that it was all my fault and I deserve it and I understand. I love you Y/N.

May 21st, 2013

Dear Yoongi,

Reading that letter did hurt. It hurt for many reasons I guess. But…I have my own confession to make. I kind of cheated on you too. Or I guess I did cheat on you? I made out with Namjoon. I stopped it before it went past kissing and some grinding but I won’t lie and say I didn’t want it to go farther than that. Maybe this long distance thing just isn’t going to work any more. We’ve really grown apart over the last few years and I think our relationship has ran its course. I will always have love for you Yoongi. Take care of yourself and I wish you nothing but success and happiness.

Ripping up those letters crossed your mind even now. Those were moments in your relationship, in your life, that you never wanted to remember again. Ultimately though they were apart of you so you folded them up and set them aside.

Understandably the letters stopped completely after that. You definitely had a few letters stored away in a drawer at home that you wrote but could never bring yourself to send.

And then two years ago you saw a familiar name in your mail box.

October 8th, 2022

Dear Y/N,

Wow it’s been a while since I wrote that…or at least wrote it with the true intention to actually mail the letter. I ran into your mom at the grocery store the other day and she gave me your address. I didn’t ask for it. I promise I won’t be weird and randomly show up one day or something.

I wasn’t even going to write this but my therapist said it would be good for me. I hope things are going well for you. Your mom also mentioned that you were engaged. Congratulations! I hope he’s treating you well. She also said you’re like some big shot at a research organization. That’s really cool. I always knew you’d do something important like that. I hope to hear from you again but I will completely understand if I don’t. No pressure or anything. I miss you Y/N.

You wrote him back. Nothing crazy. Just some info about your job and he told you about the music he was working on. How he got married and unfortunately divorced later the same year which you already knew but you didn’t tell him that. He opened up to you about his mental health concerns and starting therapy and you told him about your struggles as well. The two of you exchanged numbers and talked more that way too. Even after all those years and everything that happened he still felt like home to you.

You stared at the last letter you had written him. You were a mess while writing it. You were questioning your choices, you were exhausted and maybe a little drunk. If you’d known it would be the last letter you ever wrote to him you might’ve been a little more cheerful in your words.

June 16th, 2023

Dear Yoongi

I’m supposed to get married tomorrow but I don’t know if I can…I can’t do it. It just doesn’t feel right and feel like I’m stringing him along and he doesn’t deserve that. I don’t know what to do. I wish you were going to be there, even if you were wearing a stupid blue kangaroo onesie. It would make me feel better...especially if I was in a pink matching one just like we planned. Remember that? You were supposed to be the one I married. My best friend. We promised. But you’re not here. You’re probably in LA right now for your album release party. I hope you’re having the best time. I’m so proud of you and everything that you have achieved. I love you Yoongi.

“Y/N are you ready? He’s waiting outside with the photographer to get your first looks.”, your maid of honor smiled from just outside the door.

“Okay yeah be right there!”, you said quickly shuffling all of the letters back into the little white box.

Standing just outside the double doors trying to calm your nerves you heard your future husband laughing at something the photographer said which helped to bring some sense of comfort to your shaking nerves.

You gave the official okay and the doors were opened allowing you to walk out into the open courtyard.

Your future husband looked up breaking out into a huge gummy smile at the sight of you in a pink kangaroo onesie.

You couldn’t contain your laughter at the sight of him in a matching blue kangaroo onesie, baby kangaroo included.

“Oh my god Yoongi.”, you managed to cough out in between fits of laughter.

“My mom threatened me that if I wore this for the wedding she’d disown me so this was the best I could do.”, he said in between his own fits of laughter, “I’m glad you had the same idea.”

The photographer couldn’t help but smile as she snapped some photos of you before you quickly changed into your actual dress and Yoongi into his tux so she could get some photos that your mothers wouldn’t complain about.

“Five minutes til show time.”, the wedding planner announced.

“I’ve got to go get in place but I wanted you to have this.”, Yoongi said handing you a folded piece of paper before walking away.

You scoffed irritated because you could already feel tears begin to threaten your makeup artists hard work as you read,

August 15, 2024

Dear Lovely Wife,

We have come so far haven’t we? I never would’ve thought that the random letter I was forced to write in the fifth grade would lead me here but I’m glad that it did. I know we’ve made mistakes and have done things we wish we could change but we have been able to move forward from that and I promise to never hurt you in any way ever again. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life as your husband. I love you more than I can really write into words.

PS. I’m definitely bringing the kangaroo onesie on the honeymoon. I have some ideas that may or may not also involve binoculars, rope, and a suspiciously fluffy pair of handcuffs…

[ryuzakemo128]

I Am Once Again Average At Best

Pairing: Ex-Fiance! Eddie Munson x Italian Mafia Princess! Female Reader

Content Warnings: Cheating, affair, infidelity, violence, blood, swearing, cursing, arranged marriage.

Words: 1020

Masterlist

Credit for the Template and Dividers: @cafekitsune

Summary:

“I know you don't want to talk to me,” he began, his voice cracking, “but I just had to see you.”

You raised an eyebrow at his remark, you didn't have the luxury of waiting for another excuse, “I'm getting married soon. I don't have the time or the patience for you.”

You were planning to get married for the past six months until it fell through when you found him sleeping with your close friend. You cancelled the wedding, chucking all of his things out of the window. Furthermore, you would not let him ruin everything you built for yourself. Ever. He let his greed ruin everything.

You were in your mushroom shed, where all the mushrooms you grew resided inside. You were happy, at least it what you thought you would be, right? Who would want someone like you, right? A gruesome soul amongst those glistening brighter than you.

A gemstone worth less than ten dollars and even less than a diamond. Why would they want you?

Why would anyone want an amethyst? Only ever worth between $20 to $50. Only worth it if someone couldn’t afford a diamond encased in 18k gold. The worth of a ring crafted what made you, you would have been sold for at least a thousand times.

But here you are, surrounded by the fungi of the earth, the unsung heroes of nature's bounty, feeling worth less than their decomposing counterparts.

You had met him at the flea market, his eyes had sparkled with a mischief you thought was charming.

You had been the one to introduce him to the wonders of the mycological world, showing him the magic of how life could sprout from decay.

But he had never seen the beauty in it, the way you did.

He had never understood true value comes from the soul, not from the price tag.

The shed was your sanctuary now, a place where you could escape the judgmental whispers of the townspeople. You had turned it into a miniature forest, with wooden shelves acting as branches for your fungal friends to grow upon. The air was thick with the earthy scent of life and the faint hint of oyster mushrooms cooking on the stove. It was comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness of the outside world.

When he saw you again, you were buying fabric to make more clothes for you. You weren't going to buy clothes like you used to. He tried to approach you, his eyes pleading, but you turned away, the fabric swishing around your legs like a wall of protection.

You didn't need his apologies or his excuses. You had moved on, found solace in the quiet whispers of the mushroom shed, where your thoughts grew as wild as the fungi themselves.

Your dad was beyond keen on marrying you off to a rival crime family to keep the peace between your clan and theirs. You were the Italian Mafia Princess, the bargaining chip in a game of power and alliances. But when you saw Eddie at the flea market, you felt something you hadn't felt before — a spark of genuine interest.

He was a breath of fresh, non-criminal air in your otherwise suffocating world. You had hoped that with him, you could escape the destiny already laid out for you.

But he decided cheating on you was better than being around you. You shook your head, removing the thought from your skull.

The bell on the door jingled as a customer entered the shop, bringing with them a gust of cool autumn air. You looked up, expecting it to be another regular looking to stock up on their weekly fungi supply, but instead, you were met with the unmistakable presence of Eddie. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes wrinkled, and his eyes…his eyes had lost the spark of mischief, replaced by a desperate sadness.

“I know you don't want to talk to me,” he began, his voice cracking, “but I just had to see you.”

You raised an eyebrow at his remark, you didn't have the luxury of waiting for another excuse, “I'm getting married soon. I don't have the time or the patience for you.”

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock, the colour draining from his face, “What? Who? When?” he stuttered.

“I don't know.” you answered, looking away from his face, his deep brown eyes were enough to make your knees weak in the past. Now all you cared to do was to punch him in the face and make him cry. “It's out of my hands now. And for once, I don’t have to think about the aftermath of someone else’s bad decisions.”

Eddie didn’t know whether to scream at you or tell you to take him back, for the sake of your life being worth more than the shallow graves dug out for those who dared to break your heart in the past. The murders planned, carried out and undergone under the same roof you had grown up in.

Your father is a ruthless man, standing at six feet seven inches tall, dressed in fine suits and rarely seen dressed in anything less than perfection. His eyes bore into Eddie, sizing him up as if he were a piece of meat at a deli counter.

You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, calculating whether he was worth keeping around. But you had made your decision, and it was final. You didn’t need Eddie’s kind of love, not anymore.

You also convinced your father that killing Eddie would bring him nothing in return.

He understood the value of getting something worthwhile in return. Your father banned him from his butcher shops, he wouldn't be allowed near you while you were working in them, at least.

Though your father is more of a girl dad than a boy dad, it meant you were spoiled from the day you were born, and you never asked for much.

Which to him meant you were relatively easy to care for. Easy to make and keep happy, at least until you had fallen in love with Eddie. Now, you were his daughter first and a bargaining chip second.

Your father kept every drawing, art piece, and craft you had ever made, displayed proudly on the walls of his office. He was a man who valued the unspoken bond between a father and daughter, something that Eddie never understood.

[eliasorchard]

Maybe you run a flower shop which had William’s favorite flowers for sell! :3

: this was a really cute request, thank you :)

: fluff, slice of life, william j. moriarty x gn!reader, kinda ooc?

the bell above the door jingles as you, owner of a well known flower shop in your town enter, carrying a floral arrangement. it is early, you're getting ready to open up for today and you can hear the chirping of morning birds.

you hum to yourself as you put the finishing touches on the arrangement, carefully arranging baby's breath amongst blue tulips. satisfied with your works you step back with a smile and place the vase on the counter, just as the sun beams in through the large storefront window.

a few locals stop in for their weekly bouquet purchases. you chat with them while putting together their orders. mrs. murphy orders lilies for her kitchen table while the johnsons need assorted flowers for their son's wedding this weekend.

as you box up the johnson's order, the bell above the door jingles once more, and you look up to greet the new customer. "good morning and welcome! how can I help y..." your voice trails off when you notice who walked in.

it's william james moriarty, one of the noble brothers that had moved in town recently. you'd seen him walking to work recently, but were hesitant on whether to introduce yourself.

he smiles at you, "hello, i just moved in with my brothers and was hoping to find some flowers to brighten up the new place."

you feel your cheeks flush pink. you'd heard that he was handsome, but not to this extent. you wipe your hands on your apron and step around the counter. "well, william, let me show you our selections. i think I have just the thing."

you lead him over to the rose display. "our roses are always a good choice for a new home. the reds and pinks give a nice pop of color."

william gazes admiringly at the roses. "they're beautiful, my favourite flowers as well. but i was hoping for something a little lower maintenance. my green thumb is more brown."

you laugh at that. "no problem at all." you walk william to the back corner where miniature rose bushes sit in terracotta pots. "roses are your favourite, aren't they? well, these mini roses are perfect for beginning gardeners. they don't require much care but the blooms last for weeks. they come in a variety of colors as well — red, pink, yellow..."

he runs his fingers along the velvety petals of a soft yellow rose. "these are lovely. i'll take one of each color, please."

"excellent choice!" you beam. gently, you lift the pots and carry them to the counter. as you're ringing him up, william strikes up a conversation. "have you owned this place for a very long time?" he asks curiously.

"about five years now." you reply, smiling at him. "i've always had a passion for flowers so when I saw the shop was for sale, i took a chance."

"it seems to be working out well for you." he notes, glancing around at the thriving shop. "do you live near here too?"

"just around the corner, actually." you hand william his bag of roses. your fingers brush slightly as you doe and you feel a flutter in your heart. clearing your throat, you speak: "let me know if you need any gardening tips for the roses. and.. free to stop by anytime."

"i think i just might take you up on that offer." william smiles warmly, bidding goodbye and leaves the shop with roses.

you sigh happily, watching him leave.

having a good looking neighbour doesn't sound too bad...

a few weeks have passed. it's a busy saturday morning at the flower shop. you're putting together floral arrangements while also helping customers. as you finish boxing up a large wedding order, the bell above the door jingles.

you look up hopefully, wishing to see a certain neighbor... and sure enough, it's william.

"good morning william," you say, hoping you sound calm and not too giddy. "what can i do for you today?"

william holds up a potted rose bush, it's blooms now drooping. "i'm afraid i may have over-watered rosie here. i was hoping you could give me some tips on reviving her?"

you raise an eyebrow; "you named a flower?"

william smiles shyly, shrugging.

you grin. "of course, let me take a look." you examine the soil, which is soggy & heavy. "hmm.. too much water does seem to be the culprit. don't worry though, it's an easy fix."

you lead him to the backyard greenhouse, "we'll transplant little rosie to fresh soil and trim away any rotted stems." a pause. "a dose of fertilizer should do the trick, too."

you work in comfortable silence together. you feel your pulse quicken at williams's close proximity and wonder whether it's just you that's feeling this way. when they finish replanting, your eyes meet and both share a shy smile.

"there we go... that should do it." you stand up and brush the dirt from your hands. "be sure not to over-water again! one good soak per week is plenty."

william reaches for his wallet but you stop him. "ah, nono. please. it's fine. i didn't do much anyway."

he pauses, hand still in his pocket. "are you sure?"

"mhm." you nod. "completely."

"well, then. thank you very much for your help, (name)." william says sincerely, eyes creasing at the end as he smiles down at you. "i'm not sure what I'd do without my favorite florist. is there... any way i can repay you?"

you feel yourself fluster at the title. before you can second guess yourself, you speak: "you know, the grounds are looking a bit overgrown. i could use an extra pair of hands weeding. any interest in helping out for a bit?"

you watch as his face lights up. "i'd be happy to."

you spend the afternoon with him, laughing and chatting as you work side by side in the garden. william is a willing pupil, and he soaks up whatever you have to say. when the sun starts to set, you realize hours have passed.

"i think that about does it. thanks so much for your help today, william." you say with a smile, although a twinge of disappointment is apparent now that the time is over.

"my pleasure." he replies sincerely. there's a beat of awkward silence before he speaks again. "(name), i was wondering...would you like to get lunch with me sometime?"

you beam. wow, was this really happening? "i'd love to," a pause." if you bring me a bouquet of those roses you like."

[seresinhangmanjake]

Can't Let You Go

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Summary: When you and Jake broke up, it hurt both of you more than you could handle. Now, after three months of barely seeing or speaking to one another, Jake walks in on the surprise of seeing you in a wedding dress, and it brings past memories and ruined dreams to the surface.

Notes/Warnings: it's a fluffy ending (despite how the summary makes it sound). maybe a bit angsty . There might be cursing. Jake smokes a cigarette. Bradley and Nat are together for this, but there's not much focus on it (sorry to those who find that unappealing).

Words: 1800

-----

What’s the worst that could happen?

That one question was how your bride-to-be best friend got you to squeeze yourself into a wedding dress. You’d protested, heavily, but the last thing you wanted was to snuff out her excitement. So you appeased her with a nod and a false smile and shuffled into a dressing room to do as she'd begged.

What compelled you to select a gown you actually liked was beyond you. You hadn’t wanted to try one on, too afraid of the emotional toll that had the possibility of rearing its ugly head, and yet you didn’t just grab the closest dress off of the nearest rack. You roamed the store until you discovered the one that made your heart skip a beat. A dress that caused your breath to catch as you imagined yourself walking down an aisle, to him. 

As you looked yourself up and down, you felt the tears sprouting for the dream that never came to fruition. You couldn’t tear your eyes away until Nat shouted, “You have to come out. That's kind of the whole point, Hon.” So you did, stepping up onto the low pedestal. 

Her eyes widened, her fingers moving to cover her lips. She stared for a long moment. “Oh my God,” she said with a sweet smile, “You look perfect.”

“Nat,” you sighed, “come on.”

“You do!”

“Thank you, but this is—” Silly, you were going to say. But the jingle of the boutique door's bell interrupted you. 

From her seat on the suede couch, Nat’s eyes shot over your shoulder. Her face paled. A muttered ‘Fuck’ met your ears in the voice of her fiance. 

With your brow pinched in confusion, you turned, the dress swishing at your feet with your sharp twist. 

Two pairs of eyes were glued to you. One set—a rich, dark brown—was alight with shock; the other—mossy green and all too familiar—was filled to the brink with pain. 

“Jake…” you tried, but he was out the door. 

You found your hand reaching out the slightest in the direction he'd gone. As if you could graze your fingers over the fabric of his shirt and tighten it within your palm to pull him back to you.

After absorbing the moment, you hurriedly stepped off the pedestal and rushed into the changing room to strip yourself of the dress.

“You didn’t tell me she was coming to your fitting,” you heard Bradley attempt to whisper. 

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were bringing Jake along to pick me up,” Nat countered. You could practically see the irritation on her face, her arms crossed in defense and foot tapping loudly against the tile. 

“He didn’t want to be alone. Today marks three months since they—”

Nat shushed him as you pulled back the curtain, reclothed in your jeans and t-shirt. “Hon,” she started, taking a step toward you, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was coming.”

“I know. It’s ok,” you assured her before flicking your eyes to Bradley. “Which way did he go?”

“Right,” he didn’t hesitate to say, and you nodded. 

“Thank you.”

—--

The boutique stood alone on the street, nothing flanking it and thankfully making it evident with one quick glance that Jake, had he attempted to make a run for it, wouldn’t be able to get far. You didn’t see him, so there was only one other option. 

When you rounded the building, you found him leaning against the brick wall, his head tilted slightly upward, his eyes closed, as he blew out a breath of smoke. The cigarette trapped between his fingers wiggled from his shaking hand. 

Sensing your presence, like he’d always managed to do, he said, “Please tell me you didn’t get engaged three months after we broke up.”

You walked up to his side and copied his stance. “Of course not.” When he didn’t follow up with more, you continued. “I thought you quit.”

Jake finally opened his eyes to glance down at the cigarette. “I quit for you,” he said before taking another drag. 

You felt your heart squeeze in your chest. 

You’d always worried about him, long before you even got together. His job, his emotions, his habits. His job you couldn’t change, but his emotions and the habits that came with them, you could help. You’d been there for him, and he for you. Yet, it didn't occur to you that he would find himself revisiting past obstacles without you by his side. It should’ve. You should’ve pushed through any discomfort or awkwardness between you to be there for him. You should have been better.

“Jake…”

He released another stream of smoke, the quiet act somehow effectively cutting you off. “I’m not back on ‘em. Just one here or there…” he flicked his index finger to knock off the ashes, “to calm me down.”

Beats passed. How many, you couldn’t say. All you knew was that not so much silence had filled the bubble around the two of you since you were left spent and hurt after the blow up of ending your relationship. Though, in truth, you hadn’t been near each other enough in the past few months for the possibility of that situation to present itself. 

“I didn’t expect to see you,” he suddenly said, “and the dress kind of…threw me.”

“Nat made me.”

With a snort, he said, “Figures.”

More agonizing silence dragged painful memories to the surface. The tears, the shouts, the pleading and apologies from the day that continued to haunt you. 

“Jake.”

He hummed.

“I think we need to find a way to exist in the same space. It’s too difficult to try to work around one another when it comes to our friends and the places we frequent in town. I understand that you don’t want to be with me, but—”

“Me?” he snapped, head whipping in your direction. The blaze in his eyes seared the shock in yours, yet his tone maintained a calmness that, when accompanying his words, felt more eerie than anything. “I don’t want to be with you? You’re the one who ended us. You told me you were leaving, and then you didn’t even go.”

Your head fell and you began to pick at your fingernail. “Would you have preferred I left?”

“I would’ve preferred if you stayed my girlfriend.”

Looking up, you asked, “What changed your mind?”

A flash zipped across the green of his irises. “What are you talking about?”

“A week after we broke up, I chose not to go,” you said. “I wanted to be with you more than I wanted that job. I went to your house to tell you, but you weren’t there, so I went to the bar.” A hard swallow at another memory failed to relieve the aching lump in your throat. “I found you kissing some woman and I realized you’d already moved on.”

Jake took careful breaths—one too many for your liking—before letting out a soft chuckle. It held no humor. He shook his head. 

"I didn't move on."

"Jake, I saw you."

"She kissed me," he said. "I told her it wasn't going to happen, then went home and drank myself stupid trying not to think of you." His eyes tore away from yours to stare ahead. And with a pinched brow, he shook his head once again as he tossed the remaining nub of the cigarette into a nearby trash can. "I did not succeed, I should add. So, no, I didn't move on. I can't even imagine trying." 

You were overwhelmed with an array of emotions, each of them warring, mixing chaotically. Waves of relief crashed into the shame lingering from the day you fought. They churned with the pain you'd yet to let go of after seeing someone else kissing the man you love. There was a tick of embarrassment from the, now very clear, misunderstanding between you. But it was the cautious joy that overpowered it all. 

"You still love me?" You said softly. 

A low laugh rumbled in his chest. 

"That's funny?"

"No, baby, I just—" he paused then brushed his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. I never thought I'd have to answer a question like that."

Your lips parted, ready to ask why such a simple question from you was practically stumping him, but he was one step ahead.

"I was always trying to prove how much I love you. Every single day I made sure of it. And I'd hoped I showed it well enough that you'd never need to ask," he said. A light shrug of his shoulders—barely noticeable, yet far from nonchalant—followed. "But here we are."

Without a thought to stop yourself, you reached up to cup his cheek, drawing his eyes back to yours. 

"Jake, I didn't question it. I knew you loved me," you swore. "But I ruined things, and feelings can change."

As if understanding your immediate uncertainty that bloomed from your sudden touch, Jake wrapped his fingers around your wrist before you could dare to withdraw it back to your side. 

"Not mine," he said. Then quieter: "Never mine."

The fresh rawness of his stare, of his tense brow, and softly parted lips, broke your heart. He looked ready to fall to his knees and weep at your feet. He looked how you had felt for months. Like standing, breathing, putting one foot in front of the other, was not easily done. Since you’d left him, nothing had been natural. Nothing came easy. Living life was a chore. And seeing Jake release it all in front of you with his desperation and devastation clear as day, allowed you to do the same. 

Your palm fell to his chest. Jake brushed an escaped tear from the corner of your mouth, then rested his forehead against yours. 

"It's ok," he whispered. "It's gonna be ok."

"I still love you," you said between sniffles.

With a heavy exhale, his whole body eased out of its rigidity. "I love you, too."

"Would…” you started but paused, unsure if your question would be your final strike. But you couldn’t stop the pounding in your heart, nor deny the need you had for Jake. So, despite the shake in your voice, you pressed on. “Would you take me back?"

Your eyes were closed, but you could sense his smile. Then he said: 

"Baby, I never let you go."

---

A/N: it's been a minute since I posted any writing here. Sorry about that. But I'm working my way along my list and hopefully, you guys liked this :)

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