#the point is. MY BABIES DID SO MUCH. THEY ACHIEVED SO MUCH. THEY WORKED SO HARD AND SEEING IT PAY OFF MAKES ME SO HAPPY

[chuluoyi]

✎ mission: baby steps !

- gojo satoru x reader

the three times gojo tried to make his baby love him (and how he miserably fails)

genre: full crack, dad!gojo being a sore loser, your baby being mean (he only wants peace, really), and obviously, fluff !!

note: a little thing for father's day ehe <3 i know i said i'll work on smut in the polls next but uhhh, this comes first ok?! :') i just love the idea of gojo vs baby don't mind me *sobs* and all the scenario here come from the tiktok/reels you've sent me!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

There are many things that come with being a jujutsu sorcerer, and when you are Gojo Satoru, those things seem to be multiplying like bunnies.

This essentially means less time with his wife and baby. Look, he could finish missions fast, but when sent to other cities, even he couldn't abuse his teleportation powers all the time to return to Tokyo.

And so, as much as he hated it, he couldn't fault his baby boy for forgetting him.

"Look, it's papa," you rocked your son with a smile, consoling him as he wailed right after Satoru held him. "Don't cry, don't cry! Papa just got back from a long mission, he's not scary!"

"Is he scared of me?" Ouch. The thought prickled him. It somehow felt sourer than seeing Principal Gakuganji's face.

You hummed, seemingly (or comically?) deep in thought. "Hmm, in baby's point of view: a big, bad man suddenly picks him up, of course he's scared."

"I'm not a bad man!"

Okay, he wasn't having this. Satoru adored his baby to bits and he would want him to at least know it. It's settled then—he would be taking paid leave just to spend some time with his baby.

This would be his mission for the next three days!

DAY ONE

The day started off great. Baby Gojo was relatively calm, a bit fussy here and there but Satoru could definitely handle him.

"Look, a plane is coming!" he said playfully, moving the spoon in the air to attract his baby's attention. "Open your mouth wide!"

Baby blinked at him with the straightest face ever. His two blue orbs were the very same as his father, and yet they held disinterest so great that it was a wonder Satoru didn't notice.

He then playfully smooched baby's face, but he scrunched up, cringing in response.

And later, another achievement unlocked: Satoru successfully got his son to sleep for his afternoon nap!

"You're so cute, sigh." Satoru poked his baby's cheek lightly. "You look like me, but when you sleep, you totally look like your mama..."

He might not say it out loud, but one of his favorite sights lately was seeing you sleep next to your son. Both of you looked so precious and vulnerable, so alike, and it made him warm.

And whenever he looked at this little creation between you and him, he also got the urge to poke him so bad.

So he did. Only this time, he poked him a little too hard.

And how wrong that move was.

His son immediately cracked his eyes open, his lips quivered, and then his whole face scrunched up, followed by—

"WAAA!"

"Oof! Wait— I'm sorry!"

Long story short, he refused to be held in Satoru's arms, so you took over and your husband could only watch you with dissatisfaction.

"Won't you let me hold you?" he asked despondently, pulling up a pitiful face and batting his eyelashes. "I have the warmest hugs! Mama can vouch for that!"

"Satoru, he doesn't want you."

DAY ONE RESULT : FAILED

DAY TWO

Okay, his baby would love him today. Satoru was sure of it.

He had ordered this baby ride-on toy via home shopping and not only that, he would play with him!

"Here we goo~! Honk! Honk!" Satoru steered the little vehicle with his son at the backseat, hyping him up and even made a weird sound that was supposed to resemble a... train?

You watched them both, giggling. Your husband looked positively ridiculous as he was too big for the small vehicle, but still persisted in entertaining your clueless baby behind him. "Oh my, Satoru, you're trying way too hard."

"I have to!" he retorted, sending pout and a glare at the same time. "You can't hog him all the time, he's my son too!"

"Well, good luck~ as it happens, your spawn isn't easy to impress."

"Just so you wait—!" Satoru begrudgingly shot you a look, eaten up by your taunts, not noticing the wall in front of him. "By the end of today, he'll— whoaaa!"

He was about to crash into the said wall, and you were prepared to jump to save your baby first. But then, Satoru did the next best thing to stop it—jumping out of the ride-on, rolling onto the floor... and crashing into the bookshelf that some of the things fell. "Ow!"

"Are you okay!?" you immediately picked up your baby before checking him over. However, Satoru's eyes were transfixed on your shared munchkin.

"Meh heh~"

And you too when you heard it— your baby was wiggling, all smiles, seemingly amused by the sight of his papa lying there pitifully. Satoru was aghast.

"Y-you have no filial piety!"

DAY TWO RESULT : FAILED

DAY THREE

Today, Satoru had gotten inside the playpen and brought a bunch of toys, planning to entertain his son with all of them.

"C'mon, don't throw that!" he pursed his lips when his kid flung the lego away. "Don't you want to play together with me?"

No. As if saying that, the baby crawled away from him. He seemed to have a target in mind though.

"Oi, what are you doing?" Satoru was puzzled, but he was in for a surprise when the child rose slowly.

"Oh, you're pushing yourself up..." he stated, observing how the baby, still wobbly, clutched on the edge of his playpen for support.

A huge grin spread across his face then. "Aww, look at you!" he gushed with pride. "You can stand already! Ooh!"

And suddenly, the sight tugged at his heartstrings. This was the first time he had ever witnessed such a milestone. He wasn't here when he first started teething or crawling, and now that he was here when his son was standing... he wanted to see more of this.

"Now, can you take a step?" Satoru moved closer to him, and the kid turned to him with those clear blue eyes and a little frown, seemingly unsure. "Go! Go! Come to me!"

He didn't think he would actually try to walk. But he did as baby let go of the support, alas suddenly he slipped—

And fell flat on his face.

"—! Are you hurt?!" Satoru immediately plucked him off the floor, horrified, and pulled him close when the baby started to sniffle. Soon, he began to wail inconsolably.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—!" he didn't even know why he was apologizing, but seeing his baby so frightened made his chest tighten. "Stop crying, oh wait—let's find mama!"

You were engrossed in your evening TV series when Satoru came barging to the living room with your poor son while being hysterical. "Help him!"

"What happened?!"

"He fell! He fell!"

Of course, your main concern was to comfort your baby, and so you reached out to take him from your husband's arms, only that...

"Huh...?" even Satoru was stunned when his son clutched onto his shirt, continuing to cry but refusing to let go, burying his little face into him.

Suddenly, he felt warm, he felt needed, and most of all, his desire to protect him was so overwhelming that he couldn't help but squeeze him closer.

You looked between the father and son, feeling giddy at the sight.

"He wants you," you finally smiled, patting baby's back. Satoru glanced between you and his precious pumpkin, seemingly taken aback as he blinked several times. When the fact sank in, he felt like a mush and pressed a kiss on his head.

The clown was convinced that his kid hates him and you are the savior. So, the fact that this little innocent being wanted him to comfort him... it made his heart flutter.

"Sorry, kid," he sighed into him, smushing his face to his little one's. "Don't cry, yeah? You're making me sad too."

"Satoru... are you getting glassy-eyed?"

"...am not!"

DAY THREE RESULT : DUBIOUS OUTCOME

"He's asleep..." you placed your baby between you and Satoru on the bed later that night, he was now so peaceful, out like a light.

Satoru turned to face you and the baby, looking at both of you with a yawn, but a soft smile lit his face when he saw how you pecked his son's cheek lightly.

These three days made him almost forget that curses still existed out there. Spending time with his son blurred that fine line between reality and a perfect daydream.

"He is still so little, but he screams so loud," he mused, poking the baby's cheek gently. You swatted his hand away, worried he might poke too hard again.

"You keep teasing him, that's why."

"—? He keeps playing me, is why!"

You two burst into quiet giggles then, and you couldn't help but reminiscing about the journey from when you first found out you were expecting, through the first ultrasound, and all the way to delivering your son.

And it seemed like Satoru had an inkling of what you were thinking when he suddenly blurted:

"Thank you, for everything you do," he whispered then, his eyes crinkled so softly at you.

You playfully huffed to hide your misty eyes, and in that moment, Satoru knew, that you too were glad for this life you two shared.

. . .

And that, in and of itself, was enough for him to thank all the stars for bringing him to meet you in that most beautiful spring of 2006.

Epilogue

It was morning, and baby was awoken by... sounds.

He looked to the side to find his mama there— your hand on his tummy to prevent him from rolling.

And then he turned to the other side to find his papa... who is perfectly still, but emanating this low sounds with each breath he took.

The longer he heard it, the more irritated your munchkin felt. So he rose, put his fists together, and came down on him—

Whack!

"—?!" Satoru groaned when something hit his face, and he opened his eyes only to see his son readying his punch again—

"W-why are you hitting me!" he was mortified. "H-help! Sweets, wake up! He’ll murder me!”

OVERALL MISSION RESULT : FAILED

[jj-one]

ೀ⋆ HOW COULD YOU BE SO RECKLESS WITH MY HEART ?!

[ . . . when they find out you were cheating on them ]

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: skz x fem!reader, established relationship genre/tags: smut, angst, crying, begging, punishments, spanking, oral (m & f receiving), choking, manhandling, heavy degradation, humiliation, cuckolding, recording/taking photos (?), voyeurism, piv, rough sex (lmk if i missed anything else!) words: 5.9k

[ note. ] heyyy, i’m back >:3 there’s no explanation for this other than i love angst and whenever i see cheating fics it’s never the reader cheating on them so i wanted to be messy and do this sjhgsjsk, i’m in no way endorsing this type of behavior— it’s for fictional purposes only !!

𖥔 ݁ ˖ Bang Chan

He didn’t know who he was more angry with, you or the son of a bitch who attempted even sliding in your DMs. The fact you accepted the prick’s message and entertained his flirtatious advances tipped him off the edge even further. It didn’t matter if you had zero intention on meeting up or not, it was the principle of it all, though it may not have been physical, emotional cheating still counts as cheating in his book. He felt beyond disrespected by what you did— had the roles been reversed and you found out he was texting other women in such a nature, there’d be hell to pay on his side within a heartbeat. He couldn’t focus much in the studio with a million thoughts burdening his mind, a sudden wave of insecurities come flooding in— was he simply not good enough for you? The realization of you talking to another guy made him feel sick to his stomach, he needed to address it with you before all this anxiety eats him to the core.

“Channie baby!” You rush towards him with open arms when he arrives back home, his black t-shirt felt slightly damp from the rain. “Did you walk home? You’re soaked! I can run you a warm bath an-”

“Nah, I’m good actually.” Chan quickly cuts you off, walking towards the kitchen. He didn’t bother to hug you back when you attempted to either, this was so unlike him which causes you to question his dodgy behavior in more detail.

“Long day at work huh?” You pry some more, doing anything you can to get him to say something.

“Yeah, guess you could say that.” He shrugs, still unbothered by your overall presence. That’s when you decide to come out with it and stop settling for his little mind games.

“Seriously, what’s up with you? Why is it whenever you have a problem you never want to talk it out? You’re always so reclusive and that’s what drives me away so much!” That last part didn’t mean to slip out but sometimes it’s good to hear harsh critique from your partner.

“Oh so that’s what it is? Me being gone for so long makes you wanna fuck around and go talking to other guys for fun? You’re not as sneaky as you think y/n, I know everything you do behind my back.” Chan was more than pissed at this point, he was livid, this was the highest level of betrayal you could achieve. There was no witty rebuttal you could come up with this time, only true remorse for your actions, it didn’t hit you until now that you he considers you as a cheater.

“Ch-channie, you know I w-wouldn’t do anything to hurt you… swear on my life! Just wanna make you happy.” You croak, being falsely accused of something you’re not was devastating— especially coming from him.

“You want to know what’ll make me happy then?” Chan’s voice gets lower, creeping his hands up around your neck. You look up in curiosity with big doe eyes, “W-what?”

“Get on your knees and let me use your face as my personal cum rag, then maybe, just maybe I’ll even consider giving you the satisfaction of my humble forgiveness. That’s only if I’m pleased with how well you take my cock in that whorish mouth of yours.” His merciless demands sent shivers through your body, but you comply to his order, willing to do anything he asks to mend your wrongdoings.

As your legs coil down to land on your knees, you come face to face with the outline of his cock through his gray sweatpants. You immediately went in to palm his erection but he angrily swats you away, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, always so eager to touch someone’s cock, so fucking dirty.. M’gonna teach you a little lesson on what happens to sluts like you, only thinking about dick, that’s all that lives in your mind huh?” He continues to taunt you, belittle you like you were nothing. In retrospect this was supposed to be a “punishment” however, you were enjoying every minute of it. His hand travels up to your chin, propping your face up slightly, grazing his fingers over your bottom lip— noticing a few tears well up in the corner of your eyes.

“Yeah, cry as much as you want honey, it’s not going to get you anywhere here. I’ll just use them as lube to make the pain less prominent for you while you take me further down your throat. You’re gonna wish you had never fucking tried some shit like that again sweetheart.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Lee Know

“Minho, please it’s not what you thi-”

“Oh cut the fucking sob story and save the crocodile tears y/n! I know what I fucking saw, I’m not going to let you gaslight me into this one again.” Minho spat harshly, looking at you as if you were scum beneath him.

You know you fucked up royally, you know this is probably the end of your relationship but at this point you had nothing left to lose; doing everything you could to salvage any bit of sympathy out of him.

“It was just a kiss, it didn’t mean anything I swear! Wooyoung came onto me first!” You weren’t helping your case much, the fact you were still blaming everyone but yourself was astounding to Minho.

“And where’s your accountability in all this huh? You really expect me to believe that he coerced you into making out with him and not a single thought about you having a boyfriend crossed your mind? Must’ve thought I was born yesterday or some shit.” Minho expresses with utter disgust, “did you enjoy kissing that fucking bastard? Was he better at it than me? How many other guys have you sucked face with while I was gone? I bet you there’s so many you can’t even count, can’t believe I wasted all my time with someone as shameless as you are.” His degrading words were more than deserving, you kissed one of his friends and now that he’s found out he’s going to make you pay in a less than permissive way.

Heavy streams of tears roll down your cheeks as you mewl out in pain mixed with ample pleasure, crying out to Minho as he leaves several brute spankings to your rear, leaving your body in a beautifully bruised red state. “Nnngh!” You’d whine as his hand produces another harsh smack to your ass, hips involuntarily jolting forward from the sudden unexpected impact.

“That’s number 23 so far, almost halfway to 50.” He snickered, kneading the overly sensitive flesh. “Better be lucky this is just my hand and not a belt.” After a while of toying with you, it didn’t take long for him to get bored of that idea. Instead, he shifts you on your back now— ordering you to spread your legs far out for him. His hot breath permeating chills down your body, as he inches closer to your face, his lips brushed against yours causing you to pucker but he pulls away.

“Tch, you really think I’m gonna kiss that filthy mouth of yours? You’re gonna have to wash it out with soap before I even think of doing some shit like that.”

More tears fall out as you bear his cruel words, though what you did was morally flawed, his unrelenting demeanor was enough to scare you out of ever thinking of wanting another man. You kept profusely apologizing over and over again, repeating the same lines like a broken record, it was highly pathetic of you; he even chuckled at your sad efforts to be forgiven.

“You keep on saying you’re sorry yet I don’t believe a single word you say.” He cocks his head to the side in amusement, “I just wonder if this was your plan to begin with, to get me all hot and bothered over you. Was this all worth it for you? Seeing me worked up like this? You truly are a sick, twisted individual.” You nervously gulp at his harsh tone, pondering the vicious grin that’s plastered on his face. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what’s soon to come.

“Want to act like a whore then you’ll get treated as such. I’m gonna relish in the fact that I have full control over you, I’m going to enjoy edging you until you can’t physically take it anymore. You can scream and shout to your hearts fullest content but I’ll drown out every bit of it, I’m going to give you pure hell all night.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Changbin

What you had with Changbin was toxic yet you couldn’t seem to escape his hold no matter how hard you tried. When he gets jealous he turns into an absolute menace when in bed with you, as if something otherworldly possessed him to act in such a way. Sex with him is great, almost too good to be true at times, but when he gets angry it’s filled with even more hasty passion— you can’t get enough of it. Your relationship over the course of 8 months have been nothing but turbulent, breaking up and getting back together constantly since you two butt heads a lot, he’s got a stubborn attitude and your smart mouth combined with that is a disaster waiting to spew. But when you’re both on a “break” you still can’t stay away from each other, even if you go around seeing other people you find yourself in Changbin’s bed every night, acting as if you weren’t just telling him to fuck off earlier.

“I heard from one of the guys you fucked Chan, if you’re gonna be a cheating skank at least don’t choose one of my friends.” He gripes, the judgmental glare he’s giving you left you with clear discomfort.

“What is to you if I did fuck him anyway? We’re not even together right now, you have no room to even be upset with me!” You spoke defensively, trying not to let him think his insults were getting to you.

He rolls his eyes in response, he wasn’t having any of it. If it was anyone else but Chan he probably wouldn’t have been as mad, but you went too far this time and now he’s going to show who has true ownership over you.

“You’re just never satisfied with having only guy in your life, always wanting more ‘cause you’re such a greedy little pup. This is why we don’t work out, you’re so easy to move on to the next guy who shows you any slightest bit of attention.” You shook your head at his statement but as his hands wrap the base of your neck, your body stills its movement.

Changbin snickers at your daring courage to challenge him, he ought to remind you that he is the only one you come home to at night, not all those other pieces of shit that just use you to bust a quick nut.

“I don’t like to fucking share what’s mine, you come here every single day to fuck and you still mess around with other guys? The fuck is wrong with you?” The bass in his voice grew deeper as he continued interrogating with questions, “Why would you need anyone else when I’m right here y/n? Are you really that much of a whore you need to get dick from my own goddamn friends? Just when I think you couldn’t go any lower, you pull this shitty stunt on me…”

Truth be told, you have no idea why you did it. Maybe he’s right, you secretly liked the adrenaline of the attention Chan gave you in that moment. You craved the same feeling from Changbin, except he was never emotionally available, he always seemed mentally drained by the relationship. This was the first time in months you’ve seen him act out of his usual nonchalant manner.

“I know you’re upset with me… but please be reasonable. We were— still are on a break, cut me some slack Bin, I’m sorry if I-”

“Fuck an apology. I don’t care enough to accept such bullshit from you anyway.” An apology meant nothing to him, the only thing he wanted was to make you writhe under his touch and wipe out all the memories of Chan from your brain. The strong grip he’s held against your neck tightens as he slams you into the wall behind, biting his lip at the sight of your disgruntled expression.

“Can Chan make you cum as hard with his fingers like I do? Can he make you a drooling mess while having you shaking and sobbing all over my cock? I bet he can’t give you the most mind blowing orgasms like my mouth does, he doesn’t understand your body like I do, no one ever will. I’m the only one that gets to touch you, please you, fuck you— you belong to me. Know your place and tread lightly darling, never forget that.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Hyunjin

It all started when he noticed you getting a little too close with Felix, the way you’d drag out a laugh even if what he said wasn’t that funny, to how you stare into his gaze for far too long while fluttering your eyelashes. Though your gestures were subtle, it didn’t take much for Felix to become a blushy and flustered mess from you being a natural flirt, he never knew how to react since Hyunjin, your boyfriend of almost 2 years, was standing right there. Oddly enough though, Hyunjin didn’t seem to mind it all, in fact it was doing the complete opposite, he was getting slowly turned on by the idea of you hitting on his friends in front of him.

Then the scenarios of you hooking up with Felix became more vivid, he’d think about it constantly throughout the day. It got so bad to a point where it was all he could think about when the three of you were together, he couldn’t shake off the idea anymore— he had to finally act upon it.

“I want you to have sex with Felix in front of me.” Hyunjin proposed randomly to you while watching a movie.

You almost choked on your popcorn as he said that, completely caught off guard by his unexpected statement.

“You want me to what?” You reiterate, still trying to process what he just said, this was seemingly random coming from him and he’s never shown any interest in this kind of topic before.

“Look, I know this is probably weird to you but I’ve been having these fantasies lately…” he slowly trails off but eventually continues, “I think about you cheating on me with Felix a lot, but I- I find it really hot for some reason.”

You couldn’t seem to wrap your head around what he was saying, none of it made sense to you but if this was something he’s expressing interest in then maybe it won’t be so bad to try it.

“So… let me get this straight, you want me to sleep with your best friend and you’re completely okay with it?”

Hyunjin nods in agreement, “pretty much yeah.”

The fact he barely hesitated made you even more uneasy, he must have been thinking about this for a while. Since the whole point of his fantasy was to feel like you were cheating on him, he wanted you make the first move on Felix, to gauge his reaction and test the waters first. By doing so, you’d amp up your flirtatious banter with him— making him even more of a flustered mess than he already is. Hyunjin seemed to be enjoying everything so far, watching you from across the table, acting as a simple bystander. Little did Felix know what was about to ensue a few hours later.

“Fuck yes! Just like that Lix, keep going- mmpfh!” You moan out in pleasure from Felix’s cock hitting all the right spots inside. Your legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place as he plunged deeper into your walls. He’s not sure not how he got into this situation but the way your pussy clenches around his girth makes his brain short circuit for a second. Your juices continuously gush out onto him as he keeps up a steady pace, pounding into you like no tomorrow.

“God this cunt feels amazing…” he grunts, throwing his head back at the feeling of you swallowing him whole. He almost forgot that Hyunjin was sitting in the corner of the room, observing all of this in amusement. Hyunjin knew he was a total cuck for doing this, letting his own best friend have his way with you and not do a single thing about it, that was the fun in all of it though; he never realized how much he loved you cheating on him. His cock twitched from the sight of you getting fucked by another man, it left him with a sense of inferiority but in a turned on, masochist kind of way. Hyunjin couldn’t help but encourage it, he was probably getting the most gratification out of this.

“So fucking dirty… you like having someone else’s cock fill you up while I watch? Always knew you were such a naughty girl, nothing but a hole for anyone to stretch, you take Lixie so well too. You sure you’ve never cheated on me before in the past? You seem to be enjoying this a little too much.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Han Jisung

As if today couldn’t get any fucking worse, Han was infuriated when he found out you’ve been sexting other guys, he know it’s inherently wrong to be snooping through your phone while you’re not looking— but being the overly protective boyfriend he is he just can’t help it. When he saw all the messages of you talking to those guys the same exact way you talk to him privately, he felt his vision almost go black. He couldn’t wrap his conscience around the idea of the person he once thought was going to spend all of eternity with could stab in the back like this and betray him in such a vile way. It wasn’t easy for him to accept the truth of your cheating habits, Han was in complete denial himself.

He was more so disgusted with the fact those men thought they even stood a chance with you, there’s no way in hell he’d even let you anyone touch or come near you. Sadly, his entire world revolved around the sole purpose of keeping you happy, he’d rather die than have you out of his life. Even if that meant turning a blind eye and allowing you to continue with this unacceptable behavior. All he wanted was some simple answers, he just wants to understand why you’d do something like this in the first place.

“Just tell me where I’m going wrong babe, please. Tell me and I’ll fix it. We can work through this, just don’t leave me baby. You’re all I have, I can’t lose you too… please, I’m not ready to give up on us yet, I need you.” The glossiness of tears welling up in his eyes weighed tons on your morality, you should be the one who’s saying all of this— not the other way around. You should feel ashamed of what you did, all the damage you’re causing him but you have nothing to say; not a single word left your deceitful mouth.

“Do I really not deserve any explanation? Not even a simple, “I’m sorry.”? Is this what it’s really come to now, can’t even look me in the eye and apologize for having me out here looking stupid, remaining loyal to you even when I’m tempted at times… I’ve shown you nothing but love and honesty while all you’ve been doing is lying to my face and planning to hook up with other guys while you’re cooped up right next to me, do you know how worthless that makes me feel y/n?” He continued pouring all his emotions out, yet you still give him a blank stare, as if none of this was affecting you.

“Answer me y/n, why do you keep fucking lying to me?!” Though he kept asking, you still didn’t have a clear response for him, you yourself couldn’t even understand why you did it, it was more a spur of the moment thing. You simply wanted the attention, the thrill of it all, it was a horrifying revelation but you had no other excuse.

“Han, I-I’m really sorry for what I’ve done. Words can’t express enough how deeply guilty I feel… I’m just- I don’t know- maybe this relationship just isn’t working out for me anymore.���

“Shh shh, don’t say things you don’t mean, take it back now baby.”

What the hell are you doing to him? Was this really your way of saying that you wanted to officially break up? The sudden turn of events from wanting to work things out to the possibility of losing you made him regret being too harsh on you, though it was more than warranted, he wanted to keep this relationship alive, he couldn’t succumb to the idea of you walking out of his life this easily.

“Are you saying you want to end t-this…?” His voice cracks, visibly shaken up by your apparent coldness.

“Yeah, I think it’s for the best honestly... You deserve someone better than me.” It may have been semi-manipulative of you to say that but it was truth, he did deserve better, someone who wasn’t going to cheat on him and will properly communicate when they want out of something. “You’re just too… clingy for me Han. You’re overbearing at times, I want to be the one for you I really do, but I’m not. This isn’t working anymore for me, I know how selfish this sounds but I miss being single…” your confession hit him hard, he didn’t want to accept it, not when you made him the happiest he’s ever been.

“As much as it kills me to hear that, I’ll respect it.. but can you at least let me touch you… just for last time’s sake..? I’d be lying to myself if I said I wouldn’t miss eating you out every day, getting to make you feel good, watching you moan out my name as you cum for me. Will you let me do it again, please? I’ll let you go in peace if that’s what you really want, just let me show you what you’ll be missing afterwards.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Felix

“Why have you been so cold towards me lately? Is there something that’s been going on that you won’t tell me about? You can tell me anything, I swear— I’m here to listen to your concerns babe.” Felix wouldn’t stop bombarding you with a plethora of questions, he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. Soon as you get home from work you go straight upstairs without talking, you barely acknowledge him anymore and it’s been driving a wedge between your relationship and how you coexist together.

“I’m fine, seriously, stop asking!” You hiss, trying to shrug him off as you make your way into the bathroom.

You know what you’re saying is farthest from the truth, you’ve been harboring massive amounts of guilt since you made an irreversible mistake a week ago. The night you drunkenly hooked up with someone else at a nightclub— which has been weighing heavily on your conscience every waking moment. You couldn’t even look at him the same anymore, you’ve completely killed the spark between each other, he may not have known it yet but you had to be the one to break it to him.

“C’mon y/n… I know you’re clearly not okay. I’m not an idiot, I know how distant you’ve been acting, it’s quite obvious actually. You won’t even let me touch you anymore, I don’t understand how someone can just flip a switch like that. Is there someone else you’re seeing? Be honest, whatever you have to say to me I can handle it… just tell me the truth please y/n!” Felix couldn’t help but tear up as he begged for answers, his pleas were taking a toll on you— tugging at your heartstrings. It was time to come clean once and for all.

“I-I cheated on you last week..” you anxiously mutter, you couldn’t believe such a sentence came out of your mouth.

“You what…?” He blinks rapidly, in utter disbelief of your sudden admission, mouth slightly agape from shock, he felt his world crumbling beneath him. You kept making all the sorry excuses you could, saying you were drunk and how much it meant nothing to you, the more you tried explaining though, the more he didn’t want to listen.

“So you slept with someone else a week ago and didn’t even bother telling me ‘til now? Un-fucking-believable…” He scoffs, unable to even look at you in the same innocent light he once did.

Stumbling over words as you muster up the nerve to continue asking for forgiveness, it was truly pitiful of you to even think he’d hold any compassion for you, it was your actions that led you here to begin with.

“Felix please don’t leave- I know I fucked up but I can make it up to you, p-promise!”

“And how the fuck are you gonna do that y/n? Build a time machine to go back and change everything? Do you hear how idiotic that sounds? You must be high out of your mind right now.”

“Lix j-just hear me out, I was blackout drunk and didn’t fully understand the consequences of it a-”

“That doesn’t make it any better y/n! Fuck, all the shit I do for you and you hit me with this lame pile of shit, I’m so through with your sorry ass, it’s over.” You wished you could take back everything you did but what’s done is already done, there is no redo or fixing any part of the past.

“Strip.” He aggressively orders in his deep voice, you were hesitant on doing it at first but it wasn’t until he started doing it for you that you eventually complied to his rules.

You felt as though there was nothing you could do in this situation but submit to him, taking off every piece of clothing— leaving you in nothing but your tiny thong that barely covered anything. He forcibly makes you get onto your knees, facing the apparent bulge through his jeans— he’s never been the type to like seeing you cry nor completely powerless but this was different. He wanted revenge, wanted to humiliate you in the same way you did to him.

“I’m gonna post these in the groupchat just to show how much of a greedy, fucking whore you are.” Felix couldn’t even recognize himself, he’s never been so domineering as he was now. He kept pushing your head further down as you took his cock deep, down your throat, his hips bucking into a steady rhythm that made you see flashes of white and stars combined. After he snaps a couple shots of you sucking him off, he immediately sends them to all of his friends, not having a single care in the world what they do with those photos. It was simply payback for what you did, you deserved this after all.

“I hope one day you realize how good you had it with me, you fucking slut— you’ve completely ruined my trust forever. You’re the most heartless, conniving person I’ve ever known in my life and I mean every bit of it. Don’t come cryin’ to me once this is all over, I don’t wanna hear it, pack your shit and get out of my house. I should’ve known you were nothing but a damn nightmare since I heard about you.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Seungmin

Never in his lifetime would he think of you ever pulling a stunt like this, finding out you did some of the most unspeakable acts with someone in the same house you two share together. It was the biggest slap in the face to him, completely crushed his ego. Seungmin gave you a chance to explain yourself but as you continued he couldn’t bear to keep listening anymore.

“How could you even do this to me, just lied to my face this whole fucking time y/n, I trusted you.” He proceeds to go on a mindless tangent, “do you have any ounce of morals? Dignity? You played me so bad and I fell for every bit of it, fell for all the lies you’ve been feeding me for months on end.”

You want to give as honest of a response as possible but the lump in your throat causes you to stir, the only reaction was to sob in this moment.

“Awe, is that a tear I see? Is the wittle cheating slut gonna start cwying for me?” He mocks condescendingly, tilting his head to the side in fake amusement. This only made you cry more, feeling all types of shame and guilt for your heinous actions, what you did was unacceptable, unforgivable. Seungmin saw right through you, he knew you were only crying because you got caught, not because you were truly remorseful. Everything about you seemed inauthentic, he doesn’t know who you are anymore truthfully.

“I- I can explain.” You dolefully attempt to speak, nothing would help your case anyway, it didn’t matter how hard you tried.

“What is there to explain y/n? I saw you fucking another guy in our bed, I think that should be self explanatory in itself.” He’s more than right, however, you still manage to reason with him.

“It was just sex, he didn’t matter to me at all like you do, I’m sorry— I know you’ll never forgive me but all I can say is I’m really sorry… you’ll probably want to kick me out after this and I don’t blame you- just give me time to fix this and I’ll do anything to gain your trust back!”

Seungmin wishes he could’ve recorded this conversation, the way you’re so oblivious to how this is hurting him more than you could even comprehend. He had every right to yell at you, tell you how much of a terrible person you are, but he won’t do that, he can’t— it was all too much for him to handle.

“You want to regain my trust after I just saw my own girlfriend of one year and a half getting her back blown out by some random dude in my fucking bed?” The audacity you had was insane, you were acting more than entitled.

Reconciling the detriment of your relationship was futile by now. You had no more fight left within, seemingly ready to give up on everything you’ve built thus far. Seungmin notices you look mentally checked out of all this, causing him to be deeply irritated. He really wanted to give you benefit of the doubt but you weren’t budging one bit.

“You know what I despise the most y/n? Liars. They absolutely disgust me.” He seethes, pushing you backwards onto the bed you just cheated on him in. Your eyes roll up as you feel the shuddering sensation of teeth sinking into your neck, legs flailing around as you had both arms pinned down.

“Did it feel good to lie to my face? Is this some kind of demented kink you have? I bet you don’t even give a shit how I’m feeling right now.” His tone became more serious as he ranted, lashing everything out on you. When the slight contact of his cock brushes against your clothed slit, the immediate response you gave was bucking your hips, receiving a sinister glare from him. His legs lock your thighs in place, unable to shift a muscle. Your whines only grew louder, he was never going to give you the satisfaction of moving.

“You think I’m really gonna let you move? Silly little slut, that’s only reserved for girls that aren’t lying cheaters like you. I’m so going to make you pay for this, you have no idea… I better not hear a peep outta you and I sure as hell better not feel you make any sudden movement. There will be harsh outcomes if you try it, I fucking dare you.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Jeongin

You knew you were in such deep shit once he arrives back at your apartment, Jeongin texted you this morning— exposing all the dirty shit you’ve been doing in secret. He was practically speeding down the highway with rage, thinking about you getting off with some other guy and playing in his face knowing the whole time what you were doing. The fact you kept repeating over text how sorry you were for your actions just aggravated him even more, he was about to give you the rudest awakening. Jeongin bursts through the door, fuming as he walks in to only be welcomed by your continuous begs and pleads. It was quite pitiful seeing you like this, usually he likes seeing you on your knees but not in this context…

Your lips tremble as you spoke, barely able to chalk up the will to keep going, you wanted to show your sincere remorse but Jeongin wasn’t going to let you off the hook so easily.

“I don’t think you should be apologizing to me. You should be apologizing to yourself for how much of a huge slut you are.” He scorns viciously, “you have no one but yourself to blame, this could’ve all been easily avoided if you’d just close you’re fucking legs for once!” It wasn’t like him to get this loud and it was the first time he’s yelled at you like this.

“I just- I don’t know what I was thinking babe, I wasn’t in the right mind.” The more you try and justify your despicable cheating only aggravates him further. He wants nothing to do with you after this, but that doesn’t mean he won’t give you the most deranged post breakup sex as a final farewell and good riddance.

“Guess you really can’t turn a hoe into a housewife, so I’ll just fuck you like one instead.” You swallow his words harshly, it pained you to hear these things come out of his mouth but he was right.

To put it simply, you were for the streets; there wasn’t one redeemable quality in you. Jeongin demands you to stand up, telling you to get on the couch with your ass up in the air since looking at your face would only make his dick go soft.

“Who’d you cheat on me with, huh?” He asks sternly.

“It d-doesn’t matter anymore.” You try reasoning but he won’t allow you to hide anything else from him.

“I’m not going to ask again, tell me who you fucking cheated on me with, now.” A hand harshly spanks you from behind, letting a tiny whine escape as you dig further into the couch to brace yourself.

“B-beomgyu...”

“Gyu?? Are you fucking serious, of all people it had to be one of my closest fucking friends? You really are the biggest whore after all.” Jeongin was so done with you at this point, he just wanted to fuck you until you couldn’t physically walk anymore, it was only right for what you’re putting him through.

He slid your panties aside and pushed himself in without warning, making you scream out as he held your hips aggressively in place.

“Fuckk- you’re still so tight, did he even fuck you? Barely stretched this pussy out for me.” He grunts, producing deeper strokes, feeling your ass cheeks clap against him. “I fucking hate you, so much.”

The waterworks only continue as he kept degrading you, this was all you’ve succumb to now, just a toy for anyone to use as much as they please. Your head slightly bobs up from his length ramming harder into you, he only pushes your face further into the cushion as he berates you more with disdain, “Didn’t I say don’t move? A useless hole like you should know when to take directions, always so fucking eager to screw someone else other than me, so goddamn pathetic.” He hissed, ignoring your cries for him to slow his pace but only gets more hostile with you.

“God.. will you shut your fucking mouth already? No matter how much you cry and beg I’m not going to stop. You’ve got some real nerve to even be acting outta line, wow, you truly disgust me. Gonna make you feel the same pain I’m feeling— don’t care how bad it hurts, I’ll make you regret ever even meeting me.”

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: Mitski, what about me is eternal like the.. moon?

I had so much fun doing this

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1:

'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love is mine, all mine, all mine

I'm sitting right in front of your cards in utter awe. I got goosebumps when I laid eyes on your cards, pile 1. Let me begin by saying this: you've seen some DARK and truly terrible times, haven't ya? Even as I say this, it feels like an understatement. There have been times when you were stripped down to bare bones, and you had to "grow back the rest of you." I apologize for the gruesome metaphor (but hey, I'm just the messenger; this ain't really coming from me :p). Maybe you've had to encounter times when you felt painfully lonely, stuck in your head and in your general life too, like your spirit was beaten down. Or maybe it felt as if the universe snatched away something you thought was incredibly precious? But I hear that it wasn't what you thought it was; that's why it had to go. You probably didn't see it that way at all, and THAT'S ALRIGHT because we don't have Spirit's perspective, now do we? I see that you really struggled to put yourself together after that somewhat 'impossible-seeming' loss. It seemed like it came outta left field.

BUT GUESS THE FUCK WHAT. You, my friend, took this PAIN and these fucked up times and turned it into a damn palace of gold. You read that right. What's eternal about you? Your alchemy. Your fire. Your willpower. Your ability to take life by the balls. Your refusal to let it beat you to dust. Your refusal to be small. Literal goosebumps, you feeling it yet? It's your connection to God/Source/Universe. Your faith. Your mastery of your mind, babe. Yeah. You've somehow mastered your mind in this process of putting yourself back together. Acknowledge that ish! 'Cause you really did do that.

Nothing can ever get you to stop dreaming, and much less trying to stop you from achieving them, love. You're a powerhouse of energy, and God bless anybody who ever underestimates that (you included side-eyeing you right now). Not you getting low key called out, haha.

Don't get me wrong, though; being a powerhouse of energy doesn't necessarily mean being in everybody's face trying to assert your dominance, y'know? It can look like silent crying in the middle of the night and waking up the next day determined to overcome the thing that made you cry the day before.

Your light is what's eternal about you. It never goes off. Like ever. Your dedication to learning and growing through whatever, and I mean WHATEVER, life throws your way is what will never die, sweetie. It's like a part of your essence at this point. I hope you're proud of that and know that it's what will bring you to your success in life, whatever that looks like for each one of you beautiful ass people reading this :)

Haha, that's so cute; I just heard Spirit go "you're going places, sweetheart" ><

And with that, let's end your FABULOUS, goosebumps-inducing (btw, I don't say that about just ANYTHING), and awe-inspiring reading here.

Thank you, pile 1, for sharing your energy with me today. I love you guys so, so much and… not gonna lie, I'm low key honored to have been in your presence today. Haha, see ya!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 2:

My baby, here on earth Showed me what my heart was worth So, when it comes to be my turn Could you shine it down here for her?

My god, why is there so much happening as I tap into your energy, pile 2? And I mean it in a nice way, though. I heard T Swift's song "The Last Great American Dynasty" as I was shuffling for you, and I heard Spirit go, "she's sweet and salty," lol. We'll see how all that plays into the reading eventually.

The first thing I noticed was your incredible balance within your mind and heart. It's shocking. Maybe you've been working on getting these aspects of yours to agree with one another and balance each other out, or it's simply your personality, but… pile 2, this beautiful mind-heart balance is what's eternal about you, love. Your peace. Your calm. The childlike innocence of your heart blending seamlessly with your mind's unending curiosity for life. Your emotional intelligence. The way you flow… like water, I heard. Wow! I find that so amazing, ugh, like can we be friends, pile 2? T-T, 'cause I definitely need some of that in my life right now, not gonna lie, haha.

There's that AND then there's a whole other dimension to you where you give 'life of the party' vibes as well. OH, so maybe that's why I heard Spirit say "sweet and salty," like two very different things but produce a wonderful taste together. Complex. Addicting. You make people want to come back for more, pile 2. Mmmmmm! Love that!

You have this laid-back vibe to you as well that a lot of people in your life appreciate. I see that your ability to lighten anybody's day is what's eternal about you awwww. I heard "she's the sunshine of my life." UGH, this is too wholesome for my heart; please save me. You seem to really perk up people's day/week or just life in general. You give, like, Saggi vibes, bro. It doesn't matter if you have that in your chart, but it's just your soul. The eternal aspect of you feels bright, expansive, loving, and so vibrant in energy, my god. You've also got strong feminine energy too… you must be really good at attracting 'cause you're strong in your feminine energy AND you're chill and detached from it at the same time. Effortless manifester, master manifester are some words that come to mind as I describe this.

Your divinity is what's eternal about you. Your 'witchy vibes.' Your embodiment of your highest truth. Your commitment to maintaining this divine connection in your day-to-day. Bro, what's eternal about you is that you can turn any old mundane task/thing into something fun and magical and full of meaning and symbolism. You live life deep, and even though there aren't a whole lotta people who can join you there, you wouldn't have it any other way. It's your raw authenticity, babe. Circling back to "The Last Great American Dynasty" song, maybe you're like Rebekah that T Swift sings about, "the most shameless woman this town has ever seen." People tend to call raw, authentic women shameless, but you couldn't care less. You will forever do what you like 'cause you're a free-spirited divine mystic in the body of a teeny lil human. Love it.

That's all I have for you, pile 2. Thank you for spending time with me! I love you so much <3

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 3:

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you?

Ah, my divine activators. What's eternal about you? Your intensity. BS detection might as well be your middle name. Sherlock Holmes who? 'Cause you're the new detective in town, baby, sniffing out illusions, falsities, fake people, LIES, victim mentality. None of that runs free with you around, I'll tell you that. It's your capacity to hold divine truth, lovingly, which is INCREDIBLY hard, btw. You can't stand half-assed people and people who seem to not have their "heads screwed on straight." Lmao, what kinda people are you surrounded by, pile 3? Ooh, I heard that you're divinely planted where you are so you can activate a lot of people into awakening to their true selves, but it looks like nobody wants to actually awaken. Lmao.

-Side note: My heart goes out to you if you've been surrounded by really difficult and chaotic energies that bring you down a lot. That SUCKS so hard, bro. Been there myself too lately, and it's not a fun merry-go-round to co-exist with. Just keep being your amazing cool-ass self, ok? Things will work out eventually. You already intuitively feel that things will get better, so trust that feeling!-

If I could describe your energy, I would use the Phoenix rising from the ashes symbolism to do so. Ohhhhh, as I told you that, I saw a vision of T Swift's music video of "Look What You Made Me Do," where she comes out of the grave and sings, "Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time." I'm a fan, pile 3. Omg. That's some badass ballsy energy, and I'm so here for it right now. You're the epitome of what psychological death and rebirth looks like. You're the textbook definition. And THAT'S what's eternal about you. No matter where you are or what you end up doing in life, you'll always be able to "rise up from the dead" and do it iconically too. Haha, I literally heard that. Lmao. This ability of yours is an extension of the greater aspect of you - your higher self. Whoa… I just heard you've had this ability for lifetimes and you will take it strongly with you to the next ones as well. Powerful. It's etched in your soul, pile 3. You know what you want and how to get it, even if not immediately; you always do eventually. It's the security you possess within yourself that's eternal, love. Nothing can really shake you at this point. Lmao. You've got a strong-ass foundation.

-Side note: I'm really seeing a healed and fully realized root chakra for you. If you haven't gotten there yet, you're well on your way! Good job! Root chakra work is the most brutal, btw, so… you really have my respect. Haha, moving on-

You have warrior energy present quietly in your personality as well. You give spiritual warrior vibes. You don't prefer to live in it 24/7; it's simply something you tap into when a situation calls for it. Otherwise, I see you being quite heart-centered, full of love, looking at the world with rose-colored glasses. Your inner child is what's eternal about you. Your divine sensitivity and your capacity to hold your emotions without judgment and live big from a place of heart. You embody the energy of water in my eyes, tbh. Life-giving but also destructive if need be, and there's absolutely nothing weak about water. Phew. You are eternal as the oceans are.

Ahhh, pile 3, that was sooo much fun! Thanks for stopping by, and I love you soooo much!

~~~~~~~~~~~

[jujutsukgojo]

The Baby Project

chapter two

izuku midoriya x reader

Summary:

U.A. decides that raising a fake baby is a good lesson for the future heroes and paired third year classes A and B with a general studies class. When you get stuck with a dead beat, Izuku Midoriya comes to save the day and your grade.

tw: Dead beat parents, sexual harassment (no details), idk if there's anything else?

The baby project is the worst thing to have happened at U.A. At least for you and the rest of your General Studies class that the ‘heroes’ decided to sacrifice for their favored course. 

  “Is this punishment?” 

  The teacher, Snipe, shakes his head. “No, no it’s not.” 

“You sure? Is it because of my last assignment?” Your previous assignment was honest and not popular. Snipe didn’t like what you had to say about heroes. The only thing you regret is that it was almost a hundred slides and you had to hold the class hostage in order to finish it. It was so bad that some of the other teachers had to save them. What were you supposed to do? You worked hard on your presentation and by God, somebody is going to learn from it. It was a solid assignment that you ended up passing, much to your amazement. 

   “It’s not punishment. You’re helping them. They’re about to be sent out there and need that last bit of guidance.” You scoff at your teacher. Are you even going to be graded for this since it is all for them? Then, a thought enters.

“This is because of Endeavor, right?” The room is filled with tension at your referral. What did they expect? It’s the truth. Because of the Todoroki Family’s fiasco, U.A. has decided to help prevent that from happening again in its own way: by giving robotic babies. Not to mention it is at your expense.

“ Toots!” Your friend, Ema, hisses. You just shrug and mouth ‘what?’.

“Yes.” Your eyebrows raise at Snipe’s honesty. “And why are we sacrificed? We’re younger than they are. Let the elderly go first. Just as nature intended.”

 Snipe rubs his face. “Why are you so-no, you’re not being sacrificed. It’s a new assignment that everyone’s doing. My class is just paired up with them.” 

“ Why?"  How are you the only one with questions? There is so much unfairness here!

  “Will you stop?” A girl with bright red hair and reptilian eyes frowns at you. What’s her name again? Sakura or something? “It’s happening, there’s no use fighting it.”

  You sigh and glare at her and your homeroom teacher. 

“Try to get excited. This is the first time U.A. is doing this and you get to set the standard! Think of names and schedules,” He goes from being behind his podium to sitting on the desk in front of it. 

“And time, and sleep, and food-” He interrupts you. “This is new technology, too! This little thing feels, looks, and acts like a real baby. It literally grows and responds as time goes on.”

  The boy with shiny silver hair and four eyes tilts his head. You think his name is Jule? That’s how you’ve always referred to him as and was never corrected. “How old do we have to raise it to be?” 

  Your debate is slowly turning into excitement about the project. A baby to hold and raise. That grows and you’ll be the first at U.A. to do it. You’ll have future pro heroes as the other parent. Not just any of them, the golden class. Class A and B, the ones who fought in wars and defeated the greatest evil. That year alone goes down in history. Your peers still stand in awe as they walk past them in the hallways as do a lot of the school. 

  “Depends on your achievements. The better parent you are, the bigger it gets. Hatsume is the one who made them. For all we know, you guys could raise teenagers,” He turns his head towards you. “And get a taste of your own medicine.”

  “I’d be an excellent parent. I’m just not sure about heroes.”

He points at you. “Keep playing. I dare you.” His threat earns a couple of chuckles in the class and even a smile that you try to fight. 

  Riko, a girl a few rows away from you, bounces in her seat. “Who do we get?” 

“See? Be like Riko.” He gestures to her but stares dead at you. He has always been the teacher that tries to be personal and familiar and use first names. It’s refreshing since you’re so used to using first names anyway.

“Why are you picking with me…” You whine.

  “Because you don’t listen.” You scoff when Ema hums in agreement. “Traitor.” You grumble. 

“Mr. Snipe! Who are we getting?” Riko asks again. You are not surprised to see all of these people be thrilled about it. You raise your hand. 

“ What.” Snipe taps his foot, already tired and the day just started. “Is this going to get in the way of school or is this project not during class hours?” 

  “I forgot about that…” Riko sinks into her seat. Other complaints echo off the walls. Small voices finally decide to ask the right questions. Repeating yours, about finances, hero schedules, are we allowed to go into each other's dorms (of course, that was by Riko). 

  “This is all up to you. Now, they’ll be coming here soon. We’ll draw names then.” 

“What does that mean? How is it up to us?”

   Benio turns to you and says, “He means if we raise it right, it won’t go off. Depending on how good of a parent you are, kind of thing.”

You slump in your seat with growing stress. It’s going to grow. You’re not being graded on how much it cries or something like you did in middle school. No, this is like reality. Because of the hero course, you’re going to be somebody’s baby mama. 

“I hope I get Deku…” Ema says to herself and sports a light blush. She’s always been an Izuku Midoriya fan for as long as you’ve known her, which hasn’t been for very long. After the big showdown, he only had embers of whatever the hell the quirk was. Over time, he trained those embers to make them stronger and to be his own. No ghost guidance or whatever and a bad history attached. He was no longer All Might Jr., but Deku. Considered a hero in his own right. Plus, that new suit he got made him a hit among those who liked Batman or other comics. 

   At least that’s how you took the explanation? You're probably forgetting something but if you ask Ema, she’d go on and on. There aren't enough hours in a day for that. 

“I want Todoroki!” Riko squeals and bounces up and down in her seat. You can’t help yourself. “Girl, that’s dangerous.”

  “Making fun of what he’s been through isn’t funny.” Benio, a normal high schooler who is firm in his convictions, rebukes. You turn to him and look into his gold eyes. 

  “I’m not. I’m simply saying that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Plus, it’s also the reason for this assignment, right Snipe?”

  Your teacher looks up at you. He’s trying to make it seem that it is to benefit both courses but it’s just not. Not when this whole thing is caused by Endeavor and Touya. Clearly, U.A. is doing this for them, not for General Studies. He even said so. There is nothing for you here other than to train the future pros to be better parents so there wouldn't be another League. 

“Yes. It is also a new program that we’re trying whether you like it or not. It benefits everyone.” Snipe ends short. "What about necessities? Food, money, diapers, all of that. Do we buy our own or do you provide?"

You hate how you have to ask these questions. "U.A. has its own formula, bottles, and diapers. Due to it being mechanical, there's no way normal things would work."

"Do we pay for them?" Snipe nods slowly. Before you can complain again, the door opens and the veteran hero, Eraserhead, enters the room with his students. The future pros stand in line. The majority of them have smiling faces for their juniors. Some are blank. Since the big showdown, they have all grown. Taller, wider, buffer, smarter, all of it. It’s insane to think they were little twerps before. 

  “Where’s Deku?” Ema asks as she looks at all of them. Her pure black eyes survey the future pros. “He’s away right now! He’s training with his new suit, so he’ll be gone for a bit. But you have me!” Kaminari or Calamari whatever the fuck it is, smirks at her. 

   “No thanks.” You snort at her look of disgust. Lips curled, brows furrowed and she’s leaning back like she saw vomit. 

“Ouch.”

Hatsume enters the large classroom with a wagon in tow. All of the babies are of different colors and sizes. Some are very petite and others have rolls. They look like your average baby doll.

“Now class, listen up. We’ll draw names and to fit two parents together then you’ll get an assigned baby. We’ll provide birth certificates and activate the kid.”

  There is a feeling in your gut that this will not go well. You don’t mean to put it in the atmosphere at all. Since you’re stuck with this dumb thing, you hope you are wrong.

“Benio with Yaoyorozu.” You hear a curse under someone’s breath. He gets up and walks to your teacher for his baby. Benio and Yaoyorozu receive a normal sized baby. Benio quickly supports the head. In Yaoyorozu’s hand is the certificate wanting a name for it and their parent’s signature. 

  The door opens again and a hero course student from Class B walks in. If you remember right, he’s the drill guy. Someone who can turn his body really fast or something. He scratches his head and gives a short wave to the class. “Ah, there weren't enough students from the other General Studies.”

  “Alright, you and (Y/n).” You get up and go to the front to get your project. Mei hands it to you, not the future hero, and gives you the paper as well. You support the chubby baby’s head. Like your average doll, it has plastic skin and blank open eyes. You go back to your seat and wait for him. He stands there awkwardly. “Um, come with me.” 

“Why?” There are enough chairs for him, you note as you look around. Benio’s desk is empty. Snipe sighs. “(Y/n), go with him.”

“Why? This classroom is huge. He can sit down.” 

  “( Y/n), go.” Snipe points to the door. Slowly, you get up and head for the door, glaring at your teacher. You follow the drill guy closely. He opens the Class B room. You sit down and wait for him to follow you. Now that he’s next to you, he introduces himself. 

“I’m Sen Kaibara. Your name’s (Y/n)?” He has a small smile on his face. His eyes study you closely. You nod at his question. “Let’s get down to it.” You open the baby’s diaper and see that it’s a boy. “It’s a bouncing baby boy.” There are faint red spots on his legs. They aren’t bumps or anything. Maybe the diaper is too tight. You quickly close it before he pees on you. 

“Okay, what should we name him?” You have a few in mind. However, he also has a say in them and he probably won’t like them. Everything’s fine as long as the little boy has a name you can say and spell. Sen taps his chin and his eyes dart around. He snaps his fingers and asks, “How about my name?”

“No. And nothing I can’t pronounce, either.” He scoffs. “You’re not giving me a chance.” 

 “Neither are you. Something that we can both write and pronounce.” That’s it. In the end, that’s what you want. And for him not to be a junior. 

   The two of you decided on Noa, much to his annoyance. Clearly, you don’t get along. Not when it’s like this. All you asked was a simple thing. Yes, you can say Sen. But it doesn’t fit the baby. Yes, he can have a say so in the name. You only wanted a name you can spell and pronounce that doesn’t involve ‘junior’. It’s a name that both of you agreed with and is simple. 

   To you, it wasn’t difficult or a lot to ask for. To him, he’s red in the face as he turns it in. It was a simple disagreement. Why is he frowning so much? Snipe looks it over. “Ah, Noa? Nice name.” 

  Noa begins to get fussy. You look him over to see what’s wrong. You gasp at your discovery. His face changed from a baby doll look to one of an actual baby. His face is a mixture of yours and Kaibara’s. Honestly, mainly yours. Your eyes and mouth, especially. His plastic skin becomes soft like it's real and his weight now settles in. He looks and feels real.

   “That’s normal. Everything changes in time.” 

-------------

  

Unfortunately, things do change. Right as you adjust Noa so you are able to write, he freaks. Everyone’s head turns to you. Ema, God bless her, soothes you as you try to do the same to Noa. It’s crazy, you’ve baby sat before and aren’t bad with kids or babies. Yet with Noa you’re all thumbs. 

  “Bounce him gently. Do you have a bo-bo?” You snap your head. “A what?”

You can barely hear her over Noa's shrill cry. He shakes as he continues to wail. She shifts awkwardly. “A binky. A pacifier. It’s what we’ve always called it.”

  “I’m really irritated right now so usually I’d like, stab you or something but that’s cute.”

  Ema holds in a laugh. “Thank you for your generosity.” Mr. Snipe calls your name. “I know, I know! He won’t calm down.” 

  He sighs. “The bag we gave you has some supplies in it. The school’s formula, a bottle, a set of diapers, pamphlet all of that. Try different things,” He addresses the class. “Learn from this everyone. Plus, the items in the bag are samples. You’re going to have to do what you can by yourself.”

  You set the diaper bag between your knees and unzip it. Inside are the supplies Snipe mentioned. His screams get louder. Suddenly, another baby follows suit, awoken by Noa. Jule immediately glares at you. You mutter several apologies and fumble the silver formula packet which is surprisingly in a liquid form. 

  Your fingers shake whether from stress or the bouncing you're doing with your whole body, totally dedicated to the rhythm. You pour the contents in the red and white bottle to shake it. Putting it in his mouth, he refuses to suckle. 

“W-what?” You look at Snipe confused. He taps his foot and crosses his arms. Jule’s baby is quiet now, abruptly stops by your amazement. “How?” Jule shows you the bottle. “She’s hungry. Is Noa not-” 

“Let her deal with it.” Snipe sighs. Riko frowns. “Doesn’t it take a village to raise a child?”

  “Not for this project, no.” She sits up straighter. “Don’t you think you should be more patient? This was bound to happen.”

  “You,” He points to you. “Outside so we can continue class.” 

“Fucking asshole.”

“Watch it.”

You struggle to stand up without dropping him or anything else. Ema, bless her once more Lord, comes in and helps you with your things. You make haste to exit the classroom that is growing increasingly annoyed. 

  You try to feed him once again and when that doesn’t work, you set him on the ground to check his diaper. The redness is still there but he is dry. Throwing your hands in the air, you give up and head to Kaibara’s class. You don’t even bother to knock since literally everyone can hear you coming a mile away. 

   “Kaibara?” The class looks at you with their hero uniforms on. “Can you try? Nothing I’m doing is working.”

“I’m busy. I’ll visit later, okay? Try putting on a movie or singing to him or something. I gotta go.” He leaves you standing in the middle of his classroom.

“In the middle of school? Put on a movie in the middle of class?” You scoff and move in front of him, preventing him from walking away. Some of his classmates look at the two of you. You notice that not a single one of them have their babies. Their teacher, Dracula or something, pauses his speech and eyes you. “Kaibara, handle this as a father would. Alright class, let’s go.”

 “Kaibara-” He cuts you off with a short response. “Not now.” He rushes past you to join and laugh with his friends as Noa continues to cry. Dracula pats your shoulder and apologizes. 

______________

You decide to rock him rather than bounce. Soon after, he begins to quiet down, making you want to scream in his place. The bottle in your hand beeps. You look at it and see the word ‘spoiled’ on it with Hatsume’s face on it with a peace sign. 

  Still rocking him, you set your bag down on the ground to get a better look inside it to see how much you have. “No…” That was the only formula packet. Sighing, you pick it up and carefully rise up, with your knees cracking every inch. You head to the support course and walk inside. Power Loader is about to scold you for not knocking but stops himself immediately. “Is something wrong?”

“I need more formula, please.” Hatsume pops up out of nowhere. If you had the energy, you’d punch her for everything she’s ever done to you. 

  “Let me see, let me see!” She moves your arm enough to look at him. “Ah, he hasn’t grown; tsk, tsk.” You literally just got him. Like, a couple of hours ago.

 “Give me the formula.” 

  She sighs and shows you a set of packets and tells you the price. Your jaw drops. “You can’t be serious.” 

  “Yep, yep! Hand it over.” Regular formula is half the price and she’s handing you six packets. One per bottle. “Is one packet for one bottle?”

“Preferably. If you water it down then the baby isn’t getting the nutrients. Don’t try to skimp on my baby, little baby!” 

The door behind you opens and shuts. Benio comes to your side. “She keeps throwing up, is your formula faulty?”

  Hatsume twitches. “ No! These are based on real babies and not every baby can have the same formula.”

  She, again out of nowhere, brings out a pink pouch. “Specialized!” You’re about to have a heart attack when she tells him how much his is. It’s even more than yours. “Fine. I’ll take four cases.”

Ah, that’s right. His parents make a lot of money, and his stipend is more than yours. Because you are a scholarship kid, your amount is lower. No one has told you by how much, though. 

Embarrassed, you put up two fingers. She hands them to you and is gracious enough to place them in the diaper bag. Your eyes are downcast. 

  “Everything’ll be okay.” Hatsume says. You don’t ask what the money is for even though you are curious.

While you're here, you speak up to Noa's demonic creator. Ever since you got him, his groin has been red and irritated. You want to smack yourself when you finally piece together that he has a rash.

"Is there something wrong with the diapers? He's terribly red ever since it was put on him." You hand him over to her and she places him on a clear spot on her desk. "Ah, he's allergic! Good thing I have something for tha-"

"Special diapers?"

She puts her hands on her hips. "Why didn't you let me finish?"

"Let me buy them, please." You see the box of diapers in her hand. Already your stomach is in knots. Strangely, she looks into your eyes without a smile. No expression on her face. It looks like she's focused on you. "Are you okay?"

You nod and hum. It doesn't feel right to let this bother you.

 "Here's some samples. Let me know if they work, okay?" She hands you three blue diapers. Unlike the regular ones that have the U.A. design on them, this one is pure blue with the U.A. emblem on the top. You don't realize it until you quickly change Noa and see the redness start to fade. Your eyes are watery. Not to the point of tears rolling out but close enough that Mei cared.

You clear your throat. "I'll um, let you know. If they work, I'll buy some more."

___________________________

Sitting at your usual lunch table with Ema, Benio, and Riko, you struggle to eat your lunch one handed. The other is occupied with holding Noa. Luckily, he is peacefully sleeping.

“You should really get a carrier or a wrap. It’ll be much easier.” Ema, who got Kirishima, eats her piece of chicken. New voices are loud enough to gain your table’s attention. 

“Mm! Gotta go. We promised we’d sit together for the sake of our daughter.” She gets up and leaves you in awe of her communication skills. “I wish that were me. I can’t Yaoyorozu to sit still.”

“I don’t even want to.” Riko says. You forgot who she got but her forlorn face clearly says it’s not Todoroki. 

“Not many of them even carry their kids. Like, Kirishima is the first I’ve seen.” You point to him sitting next to Ema. She didn’t get Midoriya like she wanted. Nevertheless, she got one of the better ones out of the bunch. In fact, he’s bragging about her. Showing everyone his daughter like a real proud father. 

   “Damn it…” You mutter. Searching around the cafeteria, you say, “I can’t even see Kaibara. Maybe we should exchange numbers. I have to tell him that Noa can't have the regular diapers.”

“You don't have his number?” You shake your head no. Riko frowns and rocks her carrier. “(Y/n)! That's, like, the first thing you should do.”

“I know, I know. He ignores me, though! Today I couldn’t console Noa. So, I went to him for help and he totally blew me off. He didn’t even look at him. Like Benio over here, I cannot get this guy to sit still.”

“Try again. If I can get her to cough it up, you can too.” He finishes his plate fast. Benio rhythmically taps his foot. His eyes focus on the table, clearly pissed off. You want to reach out and tell him it’ll be okay. That she’ll come around and you are in this together. Right now, he’s at the stage where he’ll snap at anyone and you prefer to live.

“You guys are so lucky. I got stuck with a creep.” That can only be one person. You gasp. “That grape dude? He’s still alive?” You didn’t even see him in class. It was probably the Lord doing that.

“Yep,” She pops her ‘p’. She pushes her broccoli around. Riko tenses up and her bottom lip sticks out slightly. “All I get are innuendos. I want to meet up? He’ll flirt and suggest another child. I don’t feel safe at all.” She mumbles. Your protective instincts start to flare up. It’s not normal for you to feel this way, either. How could he do this? Yes, she’s smart and pretty. But that doesn’t mean jack crap. Being disgusting towards her is wrong. Where are his morals? She isn't interested. She said no!

   “If you want to have supervised visits, I’ll be happy to be there. Make it into a play date sort of thing.” It isn't much to offer but at least it's out there. Her lips wobble as she smiles at you. “I would like that, please.”

“Has it gotten that bad already? The project just started.” Benio rubs her back. “Yeah, already. He keeps blowing up my phone. I got in trouble for it in class, remember?” Yeah. English class was a sight when her phone vibrated so much it shook off the desk. The teacher's vein nearly popped due to the interruptions. 

   “Let me see.” Benio grabs her phone and checks. With every scroll his eyes get wider. “The fuck? We have to tell the teachers.”

“They’ll just say, ‘it’s like real life’.” She mimics their voice. You hold out your hand to reach her. Whatever is on that phone, has made Benio even madder. Steam practically comes out of his ears. “Yeah, but this is sexual harassment. Something that is punishable.” 

  “Will you go with me?” You and Benio don’t need to be told twice. You spot Kaibara with the red headed big hand girl. You get up and go to him. “I’ll be right back. When I get back, we’ll go directly to Snipe.”

  You make your way to him. He laughs and snickers with her, neither one having their baby in hand. “Yo, Kaibara.” 

  He stops and turns to you. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m busy right now. I’ve worked hard, I’d like to eat.” You tap your foot and suck your lips in before you speak. “The only thing I see is you jaw jacking and not a single bit of food got in your mouth. All I’m asking for is a minute. I need to talk to you about our baby.”

"Fake baby."

The red head inhales her food. “Mm! That reminds me, I have to go find her. I promised I’d watch the baby.” 

“Watch? That’s your kid. You’re not babysitting, you're supposed to be raising.” 

   She freezes and you turn to Kaibara. “Come on.”

“After that? You broke her.” He grabs her hand and leads her to the rest of Class B. “At least take my number so we can communicate!” 

 “Later!” He meets up with his friends and Red looks back at me with a guilty look. She lets go of his hand and goes somewhere else. 

  “Come on, let’s go to Snipe.” You guide Riko up from the table. “What’re you going to him for?” Kaibara miraculously is able to hear you, apparently. He pokes his head up above his friends’ shoulders to peer at you. He goes behind one of them and asks again. 

“None of your business,” You snap. Your thumb rubs Riko's hand in an attempt to comfort her. “Come on.” Riko gets up and packs her things while Benio throws everything away. Sen calls out to you again, wondering why you’re going to Snipe. “Later!” You yell.

He really should’ve given his number.

---------------

You stand in the hallway with Benio. Both of your backs are leaning against the wall. You hear Riko’s muffled voice as well as Eraserhead and Snipe. The three of you called them together and showed them the messages. Benio didn’t see them all and you didn’t see a thing, which is probably for the best. Noa is still sleeping soundly in your arms. His chubby cheek is nestled close to your chest. You shift your weight on your feet and look at Benio from the corner of your eye.

“Do you think they’re giving him an excuse?” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t start that shit.” Benio snaps. You whip your head towards him. “I’m worried about her, you little bitch. No need to get snappy.”

“I’m worried too. Skank.” 

“Pfft!” You snort. For the first time during lunch period, he cracks a small smile. The door opens and you quickly straighten up. Riko comes out first. “Let’s go, you guys.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, we’re excused.” You nod and walk with her, Benio and the babies in tow. “What’s going to happen? Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be alright.” 

-------

  Your arms are becoming numb as you hold Noa. You still don’t have a carrier or the money to afford one. Looking around, everyone is more prepared than you or is just overall better. During lunch, a bunch of them rushed out to buy baby things. Smart bastards.

  Noa is squirming more than ever. He isn't crying (yet) but he looks uncomfortable. Maybe it’s gas? You have to document that on your project's papers. Snipe said to write down all the progress, costs, and at the end there will be a written assignment on all of the notes. It's a weird project and clearly an emotional one. 

“Sen? Sen?” You go yelling through the hallways of his dorm. Tetsutetsu gets up and goes to you with his baby in his arms. “What’s wrong? I can help.”

“Where is Kaibara?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe his room? Is everything okay?” You shake your head no. “No, nothing’s okay. He’s avoiding me and the baby. I need to talk to him.”

  Tetsutetsu clenches his fist. “Bet. Follow me.” He goes through the halls demanding to know where he is. Tetsutetsu barges into Kaibara’s room, the door swinging open so hard it now squeaks. He begins to yell, “ Take responsibility!”

 “Tetsu, what the hell?” Kaibara shoots up and closes his manga. “You? What’d you do, go to Snipe and have Tetsu on my ass?”

  “No, he did that on his own. We need to discuss the baby. Noa needs things and there are times when your schedule works better than mine. There’s so much we need to talk about.” Although a part of you wants to defend yourself for going to Snipe, it isn’t fair to Riko.

  “I got this, Tetsu.” Kaibara looks into Tetsutetsu’s eyes. “You better. You and the others are giving us a bad name.” 

  He leaves and gives you a nod. You shut the door behind him and hand the baby to Kaibara. “Kaibara, meet Noa. Noa, meet your dad.”

  “That’s not funny. And it is not right to embarrass me like that!” He holds Noa awkwardly and gives him a weird look, as if he's disgusted or freaked out.

“That’s what you’re worried about? We have a whole child right there-”

“He isn’t real!” He yells, surprisingly, not waking Noa up. Your anger begins to grow. “The costs are real! The necessities are real! The grade is definitely real!”

  “Is that what you want? Money?” How the fuck is that what he caught.

“Money? No. I want you to help. I can’t do everything on my own and worry about school. Let’s work on a schedule. Let’s get baby supplies. Communication is amazing, why not do it?”

   He brushes past you roughly, pushing you back a little. “Let’s go then.”

The two of you walk to a baby store, passing the many confused and worried expressions. He dips his head into his hoodie. “I should’ve hid my fucking face or something.”

You roll your eyes. “Did it occur to you that they’re staring at us because we’re two teens with a baby?” He scoffs, throwing the door open and doesn’t hold it for you.

 “Jerk.”

Inside, are rows of colorful clothes. Some are hero merchandise and others have cartoons. After the various clothing for all ages are bottles, diapers, binkies, and the like. In the back is the gold mine for children: lots and lots of toys. 

   “What about this?” You hold up a dinosaur shirt. He rolls his eyes and shrugs. “Can you hold him now?”

  This is the first time today you don’t have him and you're still taking care of him while your partner is right there. “No. It’s your quality time.”

  You put the dinosaur shirt in the cart. Suddenly, Noa screams bloody murder. You turn to Kaibara who’s freaking out. “What the fuck? He just started-”

“Is everything okay?” An employee comes up. Kaibara quickly gives him to you and says, “I gotta go.”

   “At least leave some cash!” He turns around and stomps to you. 

“Fucking knew it. Here.” He hands you twenty bucks. As he slams the door open and shut, he hides his face. You bounce Noa. “Is there a bathroom or something?”

“Yeah, come with me. Leave the cart.” 

In the bathroom, you lower the table. “I fed you, you took a nap, I changed you-”

She looks at his face. "Babies can sense things too, you know?"

You look up at the woman and ask what she meant. "Children can tell how a person is inside." She nudges her head to point out the door. "And that was clear as the sky today."

“Thank you for your help.” It took twenty minutes for him to calm down and thirty for you. The woman behind the counter is a God send. She’s helped you out more than Kaibara has, and you’ve only known her for a short amount of time. You called Snipe to let him know where you were, and he yelled at you for being late. Whatever. It’s his dumb assignment. 

   You put the supplies on the counter, fearing the cost. You grabbed a very cheap wrap, not yet being able to afford a proper carrier. You have his money, and the rest of yours. 

  She looks at you and looks at what’s on the counter. “This isn’t nearly enough. You got some of the essentials. Everything else is missing.”

   “I know, I know. I didn't have time to plan or anything. This was sprung on us today, remember?" You wished you had time to at least finance.

She tells you the total. What he gave you doesn’t cover anything but a few shirts and a bo-bo . You buy everything else with nothing left in your account until payday. 

-----------

As you go home, Noa decides that it's time to rest again. His soft pudgy face is peaceful and his breathing is steady. “I’m sorry about today. And that you still don’t have a bed…” You set him on your bed comfortably. Afterwards, you put everything away in the few drawers you have.

You are in awe of how little he is. Chubby but overall small. It’s ridiculous how much you spent on a fake baby though, no matter how cute. This entire thing is unorthodox even by U.A. standards. Students paying for things with their own money is just too much. How did they expect this to happen? Where is the money going to? 

It’s not a complete loss, anyway. Things can be recycled, donated, or sold at the end. You rub your face and look around at the lack of things he has. No bed, dresser, playpen, and the only toys he has are the stuffed animals that were on your bed. And he’s too young to be playing with them anyway. 

Even though he isn't real, he's not, this is still getting to you. It's way too familiar. You smack your cheeks. He's an assignment, a project, a doll. That's right, a doll. To the side is your white laundry basket. You grab it and put a spare pillow in it, just like you would with your baby dolls when you were a child. “Alright, let’s see if this works.”

   Nope, no it doesn’t. You groan and apologize to Noa, who still does not have a bed. That alone bothers you. He looks up at you for a moment then closes his eyes again. He gives a quick smile revealing two dimples on his chubby cheeks. You give him a little kiss. 

You gasp. You only had him for a day and you've become attached. Not to a serious degree but enough to warrant a kiss. Maybe it’s because of his likeness to being real. He actually looks like he’d be yours. He feels like a baby. The whole thing is confusing you and you think it’s popping your ovaries or something.

You suddenly feel heavy. Today has been nothing but draining. If you can get a few minutes in, just a few. You need to do the responsible thing and take your meds if you’re going to nap. The bottle is too far. The side of the bed your upper body is leaning on is so comfortable. Eyelids heavy, a yawn, and the day that has been so tiring. You just need a few minutes…

   There’s a knock on the door. You perk up and check on Noa, who is still asleep. You wipe your drool from your face and arm. Your knees crack in pain from sleeping on them. “I’m old, so, so old.”

  “Hello?” You say as you open the door. Ema bounces and excitedly tells you, “Deku’s on the phone!”

“Bitch, did you really wake me up for that?” It’s the audacity. The sheer amount of stupid is astounding. 

“Fucker. Anyway, come on! He’s face timing my baby daddy right now.”

  “Hold on, let me get Noa.” You grab your bag that has a pink dress uniform in it and then snatch his diaper bag off of your chair. Right as you're about to leave your room, your eyes find the long mirror. The dry erase marker is fading and needs to be redone, and you must put more reminders on it, too. 

  Your eyes stay there too long. You can feel yourself about to drift away in the color of a light purple and dark blue, swirling around each other with twinkling stars. The smell of lavender starts to push through the scent of the blown out candle in your room. A moon is peering out of the colors, soon to move and send you into another dream. 

  Suddenly, Ema yells your name. It comes into your head like an echo, something distant and not seen. You begin to come out of it when Noa starts to cry. You blink and wipe your eyes. Noa immediately stops crying. “Thanks, bud.”

Downstairs, Kirishima holds his phone out and talks. “We miss you! When are you coming back?” 

   “In a few weeks, I think? Maybe a month. I’m not sure but I'm making tons of progress! I'm starting to feel more secure in my suit."

You enter the commons and spot the spiky redhead talking animatedly to the green on the screen. "It's a cool suit! I like how it looks a lot like your usual-here she is. Her name's (Y/n). (Y/n), meet Izuku Midoriya."

  Your face then takes up the screen. Round green eyes meet yours. He doesn’t say anything at first, he just stares. Finally, he stutters as he introduces himself. Anytime he’s brought up, you’ve been shown this freckled baby face. Now, you’re looking at someone who’s gaining mature definition. His cheeks are a little slimmer and his scar adds a rugged look. His curls are no longer all over his head but are now neatly trimmed. All in all, he is not bad to look at. He’s surprisingly easy on the eyes. 

  “Okay.” Ema elbows you and tells you to be nice. “What? Why am I here?” You whisper back. You feel Midoriya’s eyes on you as you talk. 

“So you won’t be here for a while?” Kirishima sounds sad that his friend is still gone. “I’ll be there soon!”

“You just said-”

“No, no, no. I’ll be there!” He moves his phone in a way that covers the lower half of his face that is growing pink. 

Why are his eyes so round? He looks scared.

Ema chuckles under her breath and smiles at you. You look at the time and jump. “Shit! It’s been nice talking to you, but I’ve got to go.”

  “Alright, see you-”

“It was nice meeting you!” You stop and turn back to look at the green haired guy on the phone. He scratches his head and gives a close eyed smile. Kirishima tells him to calm down. Ema shakes her head slightly. The bright shine in her eyes is dimmed as they go to the floor. A small smile appears on her lips. “Oh, dear. Deku is something else.”

 You bid them goodbye and run to find him. Noa stays calm as you cradle him gently. Finally, you see him as you push past the doors of his dorm. Kaibara is in the Class B commons sitting with his phone in his hand and his bare feet propped up on the coffee table. Many of his class stand around and talk or do homework. You take a deep breath before you say anything, like ‘you’re not helping you dumbass maggot.’ or ‘eat the dust that Shigaraki himself made’. You want to be civil for now.

 “Kaibara, I need you for tonight.” And during the day too, preferably. He straightens up in his seat. Immediately, he frowns.  “What? In the morning-”

“Is your home room. Stop. I need you to watch him in the evenings after school.”

“Until when?” He harshly whispers, looking around at his friends, hoping they don’t see or hear this too much.

“Around seven or eight? I’ll call to let you know.” You take off the diaper bag. “Here you go. By the way, he wears special diapers that Hatsume makes so you'll need to go get some more. He's terribly allergic to the regular ones she makes.”

  “I-I can’t-” He stutters. Right now, he doesn’t look too much like a hero, just some punk ass teen in an Eeyore sweater whose mom just told him to watch his brother for an hour.

You hold up your hand. “You can, and you will. This is your son, right? Someone you wanted as a junior?” You hand him Noa, who is awake. “I’ll see you later, pumpkin.” You give Noa's cheek a poke.

  Kaibara is silent. Completely silent.

------------

“Benio? What’re doing?” You ask just as you’re about to head out of the U.A. gates. You didn't expect to run into him this time of day. He’s stomping with his kid in his arms. Last you saw her, she was wearing a basic outfit to go out. A purple onesie with a cheesey graphic design and some pants. Now she's in lavish clothing that you know he didn't give her. They look expensive and well put together. It's something an Instagram mom would make her kids wear; nothing like a child would be sporting if they had a normal parent. “She’s the fucking worst, I swear to God.”

“Who?”  He can’t possibly be talking about his baby. He likes the kid too much, even though he’ll deny it. The way he looks at her and can't stop cooing is too telling. He's taken gobs of pictures already and the project just started.

   “That bitch, Yaomomo. Or whatever the fuck people call her,” He growls. A pebble flies away by his kick. “You were right. I give up.” 

Your opinions can be controversial, especially in a hero loving society. So, him admitting that is pretty huge. Although you want to gloat, you can’t help but feel bad for him and his descent to anger and hate all caused by a stupid future pro.

[sunny44]

Heyy! Can I request a lando imagine with a volleyball player s/o??

-🐧 anon

Thank you for the request, I’m not sure I did what you wanted but I did my best.

Even though I didn’t like it 😅

The last game

Pairing: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: none.

Summary: Lando goes to your final game.

The court was pulsating with the energy of the fans. The stands were filled with people wearing Y/n’s team colors, wishing for her team’s victory. In the midst of the crowd, I managed to find a discreet spot, away from curious eyes.

I didn’t want to be noticed, not today.

Today was her day, and I didn’t want to steal the spotlight from her and the other girl’s.

I sat in the front rows with her family, watching Y/n intently as she warmed up in the middle of the court. My heart was racing, blending with the crowd’s pulse.

I knew how important this game was for her and how much she had trained and dedicated herself to get there.

As the minutes passed, I allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts, reminiscing about the moments we shared together, the highs and lows, the victories and defeats.

Because even though they were different sports, they were still so similar.

Everything is based on the same thing, winning or losing.

But this game was different, this game represented everything she had worked so hard to achieve.

When the referee’s whistle echoed through the court, I found myself immersed in the heat of the competition. The players ran across the court, each point contested with fervor, and I could feel the tension in the air.

As the game progressed, I realized how determined Y/n was.

Her movements were precise, her concentration unwavering. She was in her element, playing with passion and determination.

As the scoreboard neared the end, the tension in the gym reached its peak. Every point contested was crucial, every move would decide the fate of the game.

And then, finally, the decisive moment arrived.

With the final serve, Y/n boldly launched the ball into the air. Silence fell over the court, everyone holding their breath. And then, with a deafening roar, the ball found the ground on the opposite side of the court.

Practically the entire place erupted in celebration, and her family and I stood up, cheering and celebrating.

It was then that her father called me to go down to the court where she was, and after hugging her family, she ran to me because I was further away.

“You’re amazing, my love.” I hugged her and kissed her.

“Thank you, Lan. But I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t mind, you kiss me and hug me all sweaty and covered in champagne.” She smiles and holds my face, kissing me again.

“I’m so happy we won, but it’s still kind of unbelievable.” She smiles excitedly. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I’ll always be here for you, Y/n. You were amazing throughout the game.”

“Thank you.” She kisses me again. “My dad wanted to go out to celebrate, but besides the fact that it’s freezing outside, I’m too tired. What do you think about going home to eat burgers in bed?”

“I think it’s a great idea.” I hold her face and leave a kiss on her forehead.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower and change before we leave.”

I waited near the exit with a beanie, and over it, the hood of my sweatshirt so that no one would see me, and thankfully it worked. I felt her holding my hand and we headed towards my car.

“Are you serious about driving a McLaren? Weren’t you trying to be discreet?” She laughs.

“Well, it was either the McLaren or the Lamborghini.” She laughed, rolled her eyes, and then we went home.

Bonus scene!

Landonorris instagram stories

“Today was my baby’s last game of the season and guess what? She won!!!!”

[runaeveena]

intense meta acting boot camp was actually the best decision they made for filming band of brothers because those actors truly Truly embodied the characters so much so that they physically look different from any other character they play like if i look at any picture of donnie wahlberg anytime in his career i am filled with apathy and disdain EXCEPT for when he is on screen as carwood lipton. you ask me whos my special man that i wish was my mom and i point at his potato ass head, you say "that's donnie wahlberg" and i say no that's band of brothers real life character carwood lipton and you say "bro that's donnie wahlberg he's in blue bloods" and i say no no no thats lip that's my mom and he's having speirs' baby and you say "what" and i point at real life character ron speirs and you say "is that matthew settle? from gossip girl?" but im not even listening anymore because i can't acknowledge these actors existing in anything outside of the 2001 masterpiece band of brothers and then you say "arent these real life people? dont you think youve crossed a line in how you interact with the fictional portrayal of these real people who felt vulnerable and embarrassed about the most traumatic part of their lives being made into a ten part television series?" and i say yeah that's all true, a character is bordered by an outline of historical fact that influences the way a writer or researcher who never met the man can perceive them and then mold personality traits to fit into something palatable for a story that can only try to achieve the truth because all media is art at its core. maybe the real men felt a mixture of relief and disappointment that their lives and stories were not accurately shared, and that's why there's about fifty books about them, but really the reason why there's so many people who are willing to read those books, who want to know more about these men's lives, is because the series showed us a snapshot of ordinary lives being celebrated, and those ordinary lives were crafted, honed, and acted so well because those actors did the most work they could to make each character feel alive and special. even if they weren't accurately portraying the real men, i continue, they are nonetheless influenced by them, literally taking their direction in how to behave and the final product of the show lives on as its own entity, separated from the real people, yet connected by a moment that happened eighty years ago. you nod a bit, "and that's why you're okay writing donnie wahlberg mpreg now?" and for the last fucking time its not donnie wahlberg anymore dale dye beat that name out of him for the entire duration of filming it's LIPTON

[austinsastrology8991]

> SUN IN THA HOUSE < and whY yoU Be like dat

Sun is our focal point, its our brightest star > you force others to look at you and look at themselves by your star quality <

Sun in the First - Everyone knows them, and they make it a fact that if you don't see them then your the one who is blind. They have a confident swagger, but arrogance to them that begs for the attention of all around them, and everyone is locked in on how or why they have such a powerful presence. Their smiles are contagious too. Also somehow always in the perfect place to say some funny ass shit and keep their style points that they been racking up over the years "You know. You all know exactly who I am. Say my name" - W.W 'breaking bad'

Sun in the Second - Did I stutter? Im talking about what I need not what I want. These guys are possessed by themselves and everyone loves it. So focused so self contained, they don't want nothing to do with you if you can't help them achieve their goals, and that attitude is sticky and everyone wanna be glued to em because they are destined for success. So they are constantly deciding who they want to share their gifts with, because they know they got it, what you got? "Money, money, money, money, money ain't the motive, What's your name again? Nobody knows it, Don't speak to me n***a, you not important, Im focused" - Tyler, the creator 'smuckers'

Sun in the Third - The whizz kid who didn't study, but stole the test papers and told everyone the wrong answers and kept all the right ones to himself. They are smart and they dont need you to tell them this they just want some more god damn answers. And thats what frustrates everyone, because they know so much already, why they still searching? Well thats how they got so smart dummy "That's why they put my lyrics up under this microscope Searching with a fine tooth comb, it's like this rope Waiting to choke, tightening around my throat Watching me while I write this, like, "I don't like this note" - Eminem 'white america'

Sun in the Fourth - The sentimental cry baby that everyone loves to cuddle. Emotional but people find it adorable. They are the rock you can cry on if you want a rock to cry on. Nah but if you need a safe place to cry, you can cry to them, they'll protect you from the harsh waves of others emotional projections, because they get it, even when everyone else refuses to. But don't use em because that'll force them to block you out, and this decision will cause a emotional rollercoaster for the both of you and they'll blame you for it even if it was their decision "And I am done changing words, Just so my songs sound prettier, I just don't care if it hurts, 'Cause it hurts me too" - Faye Webster 'hurts me too'

Sun in the Fifth - The walking confetti explosion, always turnt up and if you trynna lower the volume then they'll oblige ya just so when the volume inevitably goes up again, they'll make it a point that its always more fun with the party up then down. Charming chameleons that are cheesin about the colours they managed to pull off. Watch em dance, watch em sing, watch em do a funny, they can do it all and laugh while doing it, the vibe is them and they are so good at inviting people in on the little big party they got going on "Man I just wanna go flex, Gold on my teeth and on my neck, And I'm stone cold with the flex, With my squad and I'm smokin' up a check" - Post Malone 'go flex'

Sun in the Sixth - Typeracer.com - nah but seriously they always working on themselves and comparing themselves just to make sure their progress is more than what they expected and way more than what others expected of them. Because they here for a reason, and they will never let a opportunity slip, because if they do, they'll stay awake over it for years, and they done wasting their good years. Basically Peggy Olsen "And when your album sales wasn't doing too good, Who's the Doctor they told you to go see? Y'all better listen up closely, All you n***s that said that I turned pop, Or The Firm flopped. Y'all are the reason that Dre ain't been getting no sleep" - Dr Dre 'forgot about dre'

Sun in the Seventh - I gotchu what you need? true homies always putting others before them, and i know this gets a bad rap these days but if you ever get one of these friends. Do yourself a favour and stop telling them to stand up for themselves, because they still standing with the weight of everyone else on they shoulders. This way they show others the power of communication. And they still sticking it to everyone who tell em otherwise, so please tell me how they not standing up for themselves? They the loyalist, you got no idea how many people rely on em and thats their pride "Every step I take, every move I make (ohh, I'll miss you), Every single day, every time I pray, I'll be missing you (yeah, yeah, yeah), Thinkin' of the day, when you went away, What a life to take, what a bond to break, I'll be missing you" - Diddy 'missing you'

Sun in the Eighth - Who went to hell and back? Well they went to a version of it. And they are done hearing whatever you done, because what they did beats your hell tenfold. They don't even wanna put you in your place because they don't wanna hear your attempts to disapprove of them because they've overcome more than some bullshit shit talking. Just put some respect on their name thats all they want. And if not it's easy pickens because think they worse than you, and if you done worse, they don't mind going badder, so be careful, they'll do it. They careful about not being careful so be careful "No I don't worry, I tell you, I'm a man who believes that I died twenty years ago, And I live like a man who is dead already, I have no fear whatsoever of anybody or anything" - Skepta 'no security'

Sun in the Ninth - I WOKE UP IN NEW BUGgATTI is how they live their lives, except miss the bugatti but keep the caps lock on. They live by a set of moral philosophies to help them get by and to find excitement/ enjoyment outta life, because they refuse to be a follower, they've seen how sad everyone else is and they just trynna make sure it don't work out that way for them. Educated idiots; making up the rules as they learn the rules to live by their own rules. They lead their own life and it rubs off on everyone on how you should live your own life > teetering the edge of danger and fortune. Also someone who'll give it to you the realest despite being the biggest clown "Black kid get shot, white man get tazed, Media spread lies, politicians get paid, Doctors wanna drug you up so you can reach an early grave, Prisons wanna lock you up so they can fill up every cage Make fifty cents an hour, they gon' work you like a slave, Government gon' play dumb but they know everythin' " - Meechy Darko 'kill us all'

Sun in the Tenth - "Who speaking about me? oh. he ain't shit" - they acting better than everyone, and its fake until it isnt. No one knows when they made it because they always acted like they did. They dont brag they let the audience speak their volumes, hum their symphonies, play their drums, tickle their balls, and they just the orchestrator of it all. Because they doin the most, and they know everyone gonna talk about it so no need to even speak on it. Classy about it too. They on the top and they don't wanna leave so they acting humble but everyone know they really feelin themselves, but hey who wouldn't "I might be too strung out on compliments, Overdosed on confidence, Started not to give a fuck and stopped fearing the consequence, Drinkin' every night because we drink to my accomplishments" - Drake 'headlights'

Sun in the Eleventh - Trend setters who leave their shit stains on every social setting they enter. They got this influence about them thats hard not to notice, because they have at least three people fawning over em, and they not doing shit. Always trying to spread their influence, so if you want someone to back you its them, because their word is worth more due to their connections. And the easiest way to connect is technology and they all up in the software and getting a hard drive about it. They say some outta pocket shit, but thats where the influenza comes from I guess. They somehow everywhere and no where at the same damn time "It's ironic you talk jail time, But you ain't never seen no central booking (yeah) It's ironic you hang with a n***a that beat women And have the nerve to call yourself "Girl Pusher" Wow! You ain't real, I'm gonna show you how I really feel - JPEGMAFIA 'baby im bleeding'

Sun in the Twelfth - Lonely introspective dreamy creative types. Is what you could say if you wanna sum them up. But there is much more to them, but they are so afraid of letting anyone in because they are so sensitive. Their empathy and ability to look at things from different perspectives is what sets them apart, and they want to be set apart, because they feel alone, and don't wanna pretend they your friend if they ain't. They are extremely creative to a fault, and a lot of people would rather make fun of their works then celebrate how special it is. Until it is widely acknowledged how gifted they are, then everyone will switch up around them. But they will never forget who said what, because they above the whats; aint got time for someone who thought they were just a what "'Cause I'm out there, Tried to tell you that I'm out here on my own, I told you I was out there, Tried to tell you that I'm out here on my own,I fell down to Earth, From a hundred miles away and somehow I still make it work, But it's overrated and somehow played out" - Oliver Tree 'alien boy'

[xenteaart]

contemplating mediocrity

pairing: idol!chan x reader (gn but written with f!reader in mind) word count: 0,9k genre/warnings: er, hurt to comfort, use of "baby", self-doubt, honestly not much else, pretty pg-13 author's note: heavily inspired by @withleeknow 's last seungmin fic, i couldn't handle the angst and needed to comfort myself fkdjfkdjfk. also it kinda made me reflect on why it hurt so bad so i guess this fic is a little support and comfort thingy for everyone who might not be feeling "enough". before reading you might wanna check out the inspo fic itself <3

“baby? what’s wrong?” 

ah, he’s always too quick to notice. 

you take your eyes off the laptop and put a video of 3racha’s festival performance on pause.

“nothing. you guys did a wonderful job, truly. ’m just… contemplating my mediocrity.”

“what?” he’s more just taken aback than anything else but you read it as irritation.

it’s one of those days when everything feels extra sensitive, even the things you can deal with well on a regular day.

“what? chris, baby, i’m not being self-deprecating, it’s just a fact. i truly could not be more proud of you, but sometimes i just can’t shake off the feeling of not doing enough compared to you. 

it warms my heart to know that you are so so loved and respected, it really does. but, i guess.. it’s a little humbling too? i haven’t achieved anything nearly as grand and i don’t have thousands of people cheering for me after i do as much as breathe. which you totally deserve, by the way, i’m not saying you don’t.”

long silence follows as chris frowns, carefully crafting his next response while you’re already starting to regret you opened your mouth at all. maybe, some things should be kept to yourself. maybe, it’s not really necessary to share every dark thought that comes to your pained mind after midnight. maybe, it’s safer for your relationship to just move those conversations to a cozy zoom meeting with your therapi—

“that’s a skewed perception of our dynamic though, baby.” 

oh, shit. he has the look. you know this one too well, and it says “i’m not letting this slide and we’re talking this through”. 

“how so?” you feel tired and discouraged already, mostly annoyed at yourself for making your boyfriend come up with some nonsense points to make you feel better now. 

“don’t put me on a pedestal. firstly, i think you’re forgetting how many people there actually are behind what we’re doing. daily. i’m talking all the staff and production teams, makeup, hair, clothes, art direction, schedule management. everything. there is literally a whole division for us that makes us look the way we look and helps us do what we love.”

you stay quiet, blinking slowly and pursing your lips together. 

“which isn’t to say we don’t work hard or that we haven’t achieved anything, but it wouldn’t have been possible without all that help. 

secondly, in my daily life i’m just a guy, baby. literally just a guy who loves music. nothing fancy,” chan gives you one of those wide soft smiles, and you hear your heart break a little. 

“yeah, well, not every guy who loves music has the amount of awards and recognition you do, baby.”

“okay, where is this truly going?”

there it goes.

“sometimes i worry i just can’t match it? that you’ll get bored of me because i’m not over the top extraordinary or... whatever.”

you feel stupid. 

“so you think i’m with you for your so-called achievements?”

you can’t come up with a response, so he continues, gently hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. his favorite way of making you feel loved. 

“i’m with you because you’re my sense of normalcy, baby. you calm my mind when it’s racing too fast. you’re my safe little harbour where i can find peace after hectic schedules and loud noises and crowds. you ease the weight i carry on my shoulders every day.” 

you stay silent, focusing on the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek. the tip of his nose is touching your skin lightly.

“you love the regular channie. you kiss my puffy swollen face in the mornings, and those kisses make me wonder if i’m actually not that bad without all the makeup on after all. you laugh at my jokes and cuddle me when i get needy. you listen to my darkest nastiest thoughts and never judge me for feeling whatever it is i’m feeling. 

what i’m getting at is that... i can just be me around you, you know? that’s why i’m still here. and i feel so proud to have a partner with a big warm heart and a strong mind, honored to be cared for by someone so neat and beautiful in the most mundane things.

do you really think i’d measure my love and respect for you by something like fame or... some noble achievements?”

“i don’t know,” you sound even more confused than at the beginning of this suddenly serious conversation, caught off guard by chan’s words, but mostly — his tenderness towards you. his patience and the way he's willing to spell it out for you if you're feeling too low to see the whole picture yourself.

"well, then i’m telling you. that is just not the case. you’re already everything i could ask for, baby. someone passionate, honest, reliable, loving and kind. someone who holds my hands through the hard days and makes me laugh on the good days. simple as that."

the pressure on your chest is slowly fading as chan's words finally sinking in, finding their ways into your system and rendering as the truth. the ache isn't completely gone but you know it will be in the morning, when the sunrise washes the rest of your worries away.

for now, you turn around in chris's embrace and hide your nose in the crook of his neck, simply breathing and enjoying the lingering scent of his soap. skin to skin.

[silverzoomies]

Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 7: Heaven's Happiness

Note: As always, the love this story receives amazes me. Thank you so much for reading. Thank you for the notes, the reblogs, the comments and messages. Interacting makes this so much fun! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There will be a lot more time skips from here on out! So you'll all get to know the gang as adults. I will ask that if anyone wants to use my story as inspo for one of your own, or anything else, you let me know, it's more fun that way. I also don't post this or any of my other stuff anywhere else. Once again, hi to my best friend who now reads this story, love you miss girl <3 Anywayyy, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading <3

Taglist:@spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

Warnings: Some strong language

“She’s very gifted, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. The best I’ve seen at this age in my career. You could have a professional dancer on your hands.”

The three adults watch from the observing window as Heaven demonstrates Grand Adage for a group of her peers. Her little back straight and stomach tight as she accomplishes the move with a stern discipline that many adults struggle to achieve. 

“We know. So why is she playing Clara?” 

“Beatrice-”

“I’m just wondering, Luca, I mean I just believe it’s our right as her parents to ask Madame Sidorov why our 9 year old daughter is teaching the snowflakes that are twice her age the dance she doesn’t get to be a part of.” 

Madame Sidorov swallows hard as she brings her clipboard to her chest. She’s been running her youth dance company for over 20 years. Many of her dancers have gone on to be successful, working artists. But she’d never seen talent like Heaven Whitlock. The girl came into her studio at the age of 6, excited to show her that she already knew how to go en pointe even though children really shouldn’t and normally couldn’t do it until they were 11. Madame Sidorov had been overcome with excitement. She had a star on her hands. 

The older woman also learned that Beatrice Whitlock also knew what she had. The teacher has dealt with gunner parents before, but none like the stern young woman who trailed in behind her prodigy daughter with her nose in the sky and demands on her tongue. 

“Mrs. Whitlock, Clara is the lead role in the Nutcracker-”

“Bullshit, Sidorov, we both know that the prima dancer role is the Sugar Plum Fairy and the arguably most complicated dance is the Waltz of the Snowflakes, the dance you had my daughter demonstrating yesterday. So,” Beatrice’s heels click as she shifts her weight from one leg to another, hip jutting out. “Why is your best dancer playing the dumb little girl who spends most of the ballet watching everyone else dance?”

“I think my wife is frustrated because we all know our daughter is talented. So we’re having a hard time understanding why those talents aren’t being showcased.” Luca cuts, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist in an attempt to calm her. 

“Heaven is only 9. We need to allow the older dancers to play the more advanced roles-” 

“Then they should be better.” Beatrice interrupts, swinging her purse over her shoulder, pushing her shades up onto her head. “How about this, until your priorities are straight, we can take Heaven somewhere where things are fair and you can dust off your pointe shoes and start teaching again instead of using my child.”

“But, all of my friends go there.” Heaven whines as they speed their way down the highway for the hour drive back to their home. “I don’t want to find another studio.”

“I know, Stellina, but we want you to have every opportunity. Wouldn’t you want more chances to dance?”

Heaven is stubbornly silent in the backseat, her step father softly pats her foot, reaching back from the driver seat. Her mother turns to face her, a noncommittal look on her face. “Baby, when you came to Mommy a couple years ago, what did you say you wanted to be when you grew up?”

The younger girl bites her lip, tugging irritably at her seatbelt. “A ballerina.”

“Just a ballerina?”

Heaven huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, looking away from her mother. “The best ballerina ever.”

“The best ballerina. Ever. And Mommy and Papino have worked very hard to make that possible for you, yes? Practice everyday, paying for lessons, buying you everything you need. But you’re a big girl now. You’re going to have to learn how to work very hard too if you want to be the best, baby. We can only take you part of the way. You need to think super hard about whether this is what you want. You need to think about if you’re going to earn it.”

Beatrice’s voice is soft and kind, but her words are harsh. She turns around, not waiting for a response from her daughter, satisfied that her whines and complaints had quieted to obedient, stifled little sniffles. 

Heaven stares down at her hands through wet lashes, her bottom lip wobbling as she smothers her sadness. She does want it. She wants to be the best ballerina ever. She is going to be the best ballerina ever. And she’s grateful. Papino and Mommy had given a lot. And she won’t disappoint them. So she’d go to a new dance studio. She would make new friends. And if not, that wasn’t what she was there for. 

Luca Whitlock frowns as he drums his finger on the steering wheel, looking forward at the traffic ahead of them. “How about some ice cream, Stellina? Might cheer you up?” 

Identical sets of brown eyes meet in the rearview mirror. The little girl in the backseat simply sinks against the leather, forcing indifference into her voice. “No thank you, Papino, I’m…not hungry.”

“And you have your, um,” Heaven scratches her head, mentally scrolling through the list of items Tashi would need at home. She was going to spend the first few weeks post-knee surgery with her parents. Heaven had stayed with her girlfriend for the days following the injury, lying to her school and telling them she had a death in the family that required her to take some time away. She just wanted to get Tashi settled before she headed back to UCLA. 

The dancer had assumed that their boyfriend would emerge out of the shadows, and use his charm to weasel out of an apology, ultimately taking over Tashi’s care since he had the most free time.

Unfortunately, he continued to disappoint her. So, instead, she lingered. Slept in Tashi’s bed with her, unwrapped and rewrapped her knee. Cleaned her dorm, brought her any work she missed. The girls in the athletic dorm thought she’d moved in. But now, Tashi’s parents were here to take her home for a little while. 

“I have everything, Hev, you made sure of that.” 

Her heart aches. Tashi sounds so tired. So down. Heaven is so frustrated. She’s ready to move past this part. She wants Tashi to just be better. She tells herself over and over that the surgery would fix it. That once she got the treatment she needs and a little physical therapy, she’d be back to where she was, ready to take over the world with her. 

“I’ll see you when we open, right? You’re still gonna come?” Heaven rocks on her feet, careful not to bump Tashi’s crutch. “You don’t have to, you’ve seen me do most of the dances and I know it might be hard to travel-”

“Babe, I’ll be there. Okay? I need to go.” Tashi lifts Heaven’s chin, giving her a halfhearted peck before turning to climb into her dad’s truck, gesturing for Heaven to stop when she goes to try helping her into the high seated vehicle. “I’ll call you. Why don’t you have Art help you get your stuff from my room? He probably wants to say goodbye.”

“T, are we gonna talk more about that-”

“I told you,” Tashi shrugs, hand on the car door handle, her pajama pants poorly covering the large brace on her knee. “M’not mad. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Heaven isn’t stupid. Ever since Tashi and Patrick found out that she’d done…stuff with Art, Patrick has been radio silent, and all Tashi does is encourage Heaven to spend more time with Art who she was decidedly avoiding. She’d gotten…caught up in the infirmary. The combination of the heightened emotions and Art’s soft attention and care caused another moment of weakness. She’d accidentally said something that she’d been denying to herself ever since, and thanking the good lord above that Art had apparently missed. She was determined not to tempt fate for a…fourth time?

Which is why she’d gone back to Tashi’s room and started packing her stuff and straightening up without alerting the blond tennis player who’d been haunting her dreams as of late. And it’s also why she almost pissed herself when he’d somehow materialized in the dorm room doorway, rapping his knuckles against the light wood, in a failed attempt not to startle her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but, um, Tashi texted me and said you might need some help getting this stuff to your car.” 

He looks good. She can’t ignore that, but she can refuse to get caught up in staring at him as he leans in the doorway, muscled arms on full display as he leans in the frame, a poorly hidden pout on his face. 

“I’m good.” Heaven shrugs, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder, trying to lift her purse and her other two bags at the same time, only to have all of her belongings fall out of her purse. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, let me help you.” Art bends and starts grabbing the miscellaneous items from her bag.

“I can do it-”

“It’ll be quicker-”

“Art.” She huffs, tucking her hair behind her ears and sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “I meant it, when I said that I was done…Tashi might be trying to teach me a lesson in some kind of twisted way, and I’m sorry you’re getting mixed up in it, but I’m…I can’t be around you and be with her at the same time. Clearly, I can’t handle boundaries.”

“So…so what does that mean? Not talking at all? Is that what you want?” He asks, shoulders dropping, eyes filled with hurt as he inches closer. “Heaven-”

“Sure. If that’s what it takes for it to get you to get I can’t do” she gestures between them. “This, then fine, let’s say that’s what I want.” 

Art clenches his jaw, blinking quickly as he tries to think something he could say. Anything to change her mind. “Heaven, please, I’ll…we’d be friends. We can just, I can’t…please don’t.” he finishes, giving up on trying to articulate his thoughts through his panicked haze. Through all of this back and forth, chasing and running, he’d forgotten the chance that once Patrick was out of the picture, that he might get written out too. 

His eyes scan her face as she shakes her head, shoving the last of her stuff back into her purse and standing. “Art, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you. But stuff is getting too complicated. This shit is just too much. I haven’t been back to my school in days, Tashi’s leg is fucked and I don’t want to make things any harder for her, Patrick is just fucking gone and I really can’t handle anything more. So when you say we can be friends, I need you to mean it. I need you to tell me we can do that.”

Art finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He wants to be honest. He wants to acknowledge that he can’t see himself getting over her within the foreseeable future. He wants to tell her that he’s glad she’s probably not with Patrick anymore, and as bad as he feels about Tashi’s leg, he quite frankly does not understand why it has to change anything between them. 

But he’s desperate. Art is humiliated to admit it to himself but, he would do anything to keep the line of communication between him and Heaven open so if he had to appease her by saying that they would be platonic despite the fact that he quite literally gets dizzy standing next to her, fine. Like he’d told himself before, he was playing the long game, collecting the points that matter. So, offering her a tight smile, Art sticks his large hand out to her, encasing her smaller one and jumping to stand at his full height. “Friends. But, friends don’t ignore each other for days, Hev.” 

Heaven bites her lower lip, choosing to ignore the blue-brown eyes that drop to her mouth before looking back up at her and shaking his hand. “Okay. Yeah.” The pair slowly pull their hands apart, Heaven shivers as she feels the calluses on his palm slide across her hand. “As my friend, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is,” the girl rolls her eyes to the ceiling, releasing a heavy sigh. “Is she done? You saw it, and you obviously know more than me…is that something she can keep playing with her knee like that?”

He can’t bring himself to dash the hope she was clearly harboring on the behalf of Tashi but the girl’s recovery is…unlikely. Art tucks his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as he chooses his words carefully. “Tashi’s strong, and really fucking good, if anyone is going to recover from that kind of injury, it’s her.”

“So…no.” Heaven sits down on Tashi’s bed, staring forward at the wall that’s littered with pictures of some of the best tennis players in the world. A shaky breath leaves her as she stares at the professional posters, accompanied by the posters Adidas had made with Tashi on them. 

“You’re a really good girlfriend.” Art whispers.

“I cheated on her with you. I’m pretty much the worst girlfriend ever.”

“No, I mean, you’re really invested in her. In the thing she loves, like you care about tennis the same way we do, f-for her.” 

Heaven smiles softly to herself, grabbing Tashi’s pillow and hugging it to her body. “I fell in love with Tashi watching her play tennis. Just like everyone else does.” she jokes, poking Art’s leg with her toe. “When I’m watching her, it’s like I’m getting to witness something. It’s…corny but tennis is her calling. She goes to some other little world when she’s playing, and, even though I’m not a tennis player, she takes me with her. It’s this feeling of closeness that I can’t get anywhere else, you know?” Or at least, nowhere else I’m willing to talk about.

He does know. Art does know exactly what she’s talking about. He felt it. Once, when he and Patrick sat and watched Tashi play for the first time. It’s an all encompassing feeling. He was so caught up in watching her every move that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at Tashi. If he’d just looked three rows in front of him he’d have seen the girl in front of him now. 

The second time, the feeling was more intense, more of a sensation than a mere feeling. It was when he was sitting in an empty theater, watching Heaven dance, just for him. Art had never felt the things he’d felt before. He’d never had the thoughts he thought. He’d held his breath for the entire minute and 26 seconds that she gave him. He sat on the edge of the red, fabric auditorium seat, scared to blink and get left behind. He wanted to capture the feeling and keep it forever. And he has. He’s kept it. And everytime she gives him another taste, a smile, a kiss, a laugh, a touch, he goes back to being alone in the theater, experiencing euphoria for the very first time. 

If that’s the feeling Tashi gives Heaven, then he’s very jealous. And he wants it.

And that’s another new feeling the girls introduced him to. He’d never wanted something like her…or…uh them. 

Jealousy. Longing. Needing. 

Art knew exactly what Patrick was talking about when he said he liked seeing him fired up about something. Because, as much as he loves tennis, it didn’t make his blood boil. It didn’t make his stomach muscles clench with intensity. He didn’t feel that satisfying nervous burn. Not until…

Art needs to test a theory.

He scratches the back of his head, looking down at his sneakers before clearing his throat. “Uh, so, Hev, I’ve got a match this afternoon. And, I know things are weird right now, so you might think I’m a dick for even asking-”

“Arthur.”

“Come watch me play.” He blurts. Heaven’s eyes widen and he finds himself taking a tentative step forward as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I don’t know, I just figured…I mean, you might miss watching someone play, with Tashi taking a break and Patrick being…himself.” When Heaven continues to look unsure, Art puts himself out there again, trying to entice her the way he knows how. He moves to stand in front of where she’s seated on the bed, crouching to be just below her level. “When I win it will be for you. I’d like you to be there.” Art carefully tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, before grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger, moving her face around playfully. “As a friend.”

As a friend. That’s exactly what Heaven repeats to herself, over and over when she carries her bags over to the tennis courts, placing one foot onto the metal bleacher and opting to sit in the seats down on the front to rows. Just so she can see better. And it’ll be easier to slip out before the match is over. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to sit with the women’s tennis players towards the top. All she could think of when she saw them was that it should have been one of their legs cracking instead of Tashi’s and it didn’t exactly make her feel like a great person. 

She slips into the seat and crosses her legs, struggling as she pushes her overnight bag under the low seat.

“Hey, let me help you.” A blonde girl crouches beside her, pushing along with Heaven and getting the back underneath. 

“Oh,” Heaven offers her a bright smile. “Thanks, I have to head back to my school after this so I have all my shit with me, didn’t think I was gonna come.”

“No problem,” the girl chirps, plopping down into the seat next to Heaven. “Sara. Myles’ girlfriend, he’s playing after this first match. Whose girlfriend are you?”

Tashi’s name is on the tip of her tongue. She swears it is. But the girl is clearly talking about the players that were starting to filter in, with their red shirts that Heaven could see fitting Art perfectly from her seat. His blond curls flopping as his head moves side to side, she knows he’s looking for her. Heaven gives a soft wave to catch his attention and can’t help but match his smile when he spots her, waving back. “I’m not dating a player.”

“Well these are girlfriend seats, so don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” Sara says lightly, pulling her shades down over her eyes. 

Heaven turns to look at her, tearing her eyes away from Art stretching. “What the hell are girlfriend seats?”

“They’re seats…where girlfriends sit?” The girl sits up to get a pixelated picture of her boyfriend on her razor. “You know, the players’ girls sit, so they can see them. No wonder I don’t recognize you, you’re a plant.”

“I’m Heaven, I don’t go here, I’m just watching my friend before I go back to UCLA.” 

“Oh, shit,” Sara’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re Donaldson’s girl right? Myles’ cousin Kyle, trust me I know the names kill me too, but he was saying how Donaldson brought his hot girlfriend out with them the other night and was dick trying to show off for her.” 

“Again, we’re friends, m’not his girl.”

“Hey, Hev!” Sara ducks her head, watching out of her peripheral as Art jogs over, racket in hand, pushing up onto the fence so he could be eye level with Heaven. “Match is about to start, kiss for good luck?” He grins, holding his racket handle out to her. He playfully pouts until she gives in, leaning forward and pressing her glossed lips to the handle, looking at Art through her lashes. The blond wets his bottom lip and pulls the racket back. “Eyes on me, okay?” 

“Whatever, just remember you promised me a win.” Heaven giggles, crossing her arms as she settles back into her seat. Art beams even wider, hopping down off of the fence and jogging backwards back to where the players sit. “And spit out your gum!”

Faintly, she could hear Art’s teammates reprimanding him for ‘making the rest of them look bad’ and she smiles to herself, bringing a hand up to play with her name chain.

“Girl.” Sara snorts.

“Just friends.”

“Yeah sure.” the blonde girl shrugs, pushing her shades back down. “Don’t tell me, tell Donaldson.”

Art delivers a win, as promised. It wasn’t hard, really. One thing Patrick had gotten right was that college kids weren’t really much competition. And maybe he had some very good motivation sitting out in the crowd with her eyes locked on him. So he showed off a little, served a little harder, made the other guy run a little bit more than necessary. He could always explain that away as wanting to impress his coach and any possible reps looking to endorse him. And sure, he might’ve looked over at her for each point he wrenched out of the poor guy from Temple’s hands but…well he didn’t have an excuse for that other than it gave him a rush knowing that she is sitting pretty, legs crossed, perched with the other girlfriends, watching him, rooting for him, breathing heavy for him. 

When matchpoint is declared his, Art smiles cockily, strolling up to the net and shaking hands with his opponent before making his way over to Heaven again, this time climbing completely over the fence, leaving behind his tennis bag on the opposite side of the court. This time she stands, catching him a little as he lands in the small space in front of her and the fence. “Well?” he pants, lifting his hat to adjust his hair before placing it back on his head. 

“Well, what? You want me to say congratulations?” Heaven grins, sweeping some sweat that dripped from his forehead off of his cheek. “Congratulations, Arthur.” she hums.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” Sarah calls from her seat, smiling smugly up at the pair. “Good job, Donaldson. Why don’t you try to pass some of that mojo to Myles, huh? Getting kinda tired of coming out to these things just to watch you play.”

“I’ve got a lucky charm, that’s all.” Art nudges Heaven, wrapping an arm around her waist so she doesn’t stumble too far away from him.

“Yeah, so, lucky, or the other guy sucks and Art is good-”

“No, I think you’re my lucky charm, don’t try to ruin it-” Art laughs, taking his hat off again, his messy blond hair falling all over as he places it on Heaven’s head, holding her to him as she squirms.

“Ew, Arthur, it's sweaty!”

“It’s the fruit of my labor, Hev, that win was for you!”

Sarah scoffs, shaking her head as she watches the pair, leaning away to avoid getting hit when Art lifts Heaven, swinging her to the opposite side of him to help her get to the steps before grabbing her bags. As she sees him guide her by her waist down the bleachers, both of them cheesing as they chat as if no one else was there and she realizes that Art is leaving the courts before his fellow teammates play, Sarah commends her own instincts.

And then she makes a note to herself to start saving the returning girlfriend seat next to hers for Heaven. The other girls were sort’ve bitches, anyway.

“So, I should head back.” Heaven leans back against the driver door of her car, clasping her hands together behind her. “But, this got my mind off of things for a little, so thank you.”

“It’s what friends are for.” Art laughs, stepping in front of her, hand behind his neck.

“Pft, you’re such a dick. Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”

“I am nice.” he smiles, rocking on his feet, feeling his chest tighten as Heaven bites her rose petal bottom lip again. His eyes soften as he stares down at her delicate features and thinks about how right things feel when they’re together. How he hasn’t felt this good in…ever. “So nice, I’m not gonna say what I want to say. I’m just gonna say,” he takes her hand gently, toying with her fingers, pushing her thumb with his own, “goodnight.”

Heaven’s lips part, and looking up into his eyes, how kindly he looks down at her. What she can see in them almost does it. She almost got lost, just like that. But a buzz in her jacket pocket has her grabbing her phone and the message has her taking a small step backward and placing her hand on her door handle. “Goodbye, Art.”

“One two three, one two three, and Peter please keep up with Heaven, Heaven a little less hatred on your face, thank you, two three and up, I want her in the air-” Madame Fontaine claps her hands to the pace of the movements she wants from her two leads, following them as they move across the floor. Heaven holds her breath as she’s lifted into the air for two counts before she’s slid down Peter’s body, draping herself across him romantically as he kneels to accommodate her. “Yes, that is exactly it. Now kiss.”

Heaven feels herself wince, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels Peter’s lips press against hers.

“Still doesn’t look good, Madame.” Fallon calls from her seat. 

“No, no it doesn’t, does it? You two, what’s the issue, tu veux m'humilier et me faire me suicider ou quoi?”

“No, Madame,” Heaven huffs, swatting Peter’s hand away from her waist. “We don’t want to humiliate you or make you kill yourself, I don’t understand why we have to do the version with the kiss, there are plenty of variations without it-”

“You understood her?” Peter squints at the girl next to him before huffing, “Fine, whatever, MacMillan intended for there to be passion between Romeo and Juliet, and you curl your lip up everytime I kiss you.”

“I don’t like doing it.” Heaven shrugs. “I’m a professional dancer, not a porn star, and I’m playing a 15 year old girl, I don’t know why any sane, adult audience would want to watch me lay on top and kiss a grown man and then kill myself to be with him-”

“We open tonight. We are doing the ballet as we rehearsed, you two will kiss and you will tolerate it. Practice if you must, pretend he’s someone else, take a shot before you do it, I don’t care.”

“Madame, we’re 19.”

“Oh please.” The older woman storms off, her assistant behind her and the two dancers are left side by side. 

“So…should we practice?”

“Absolutely fucking not, thank you very much.” Heaven pushes past Peter, snatching her dance bag from the floor. “You’re gonna practice until your knees bleed for the next hour and then you’re gonna soak in the athletic building so you’re actually ready for tonight and I’m gonna go…I don’t know, pray.” 

As Heaven storms away, dramatically slamming the theater door behind her, she can recognize she was in a bitchy mood. She felt like she had a lot of shit to be annoyed about and was frankly pissed to feel her world collapsing around her on the first night of her first college role in which she’s the fucking prima. 

First, she once again demonstrated to herself that she has absolutely no fucking self control when it comes to Art Donaldson, a truth that she’s learned about herself that really agitates her. She discovered this as she struggled into the routine of only responding to the blond every couple of days and found herself sitting up in the privacy of her own dorm, reading and rereading every message she sent, the bright light of her phone shining brightly on her shame.

Second, she still hadn’t heard from her boyfriend (ex?), Patrick. She’d watched a couple of his matches while she was on the treadmill at the gym and as he does, he wins the first two rounds only to lose in the third. He found time to get lazy in his tennis playing but failed to pick up his goddamn phone and call either of his girlfriends.

Which leads to the third thing haunting her. Tashi is fucking irritable as shit. Apparently, surgery does not agree with her, because Tashi had been crabby for the last few days. It started with the day of Art’s match when she’d sent her perfectly timed message. 'Did he win?' It was like she was taunting her. Like Tashi knew Heaven couldn't stay away. It pisses Heaven off even more that she was right. Then Tashi had moved on to venting about how Patrick was absolutely wasting his talent, how the fact that he’s not winning pisses her off even more now that she can’t play. How she’s going pro as soon as she gets the chance because if this injury told her anything, it was that there was no time to wait. How now that she’s got time on her hands, she’s been thinking more about her plan for her life and Heaven’s.

And lastly, the real kicker, what had Heaven gritting her teeth as she did bar warmups this morning, was that fucking phone call. The one from her mother that she received at 5:00am when she was stretching. The one where her mother said she wouldn’t be able to make it to her first night of her first ballet in college in which she’s the fucking prima. And when she expressed her disappointment, Beatrice responded ‘It’s just a school ballet, I’ll come to your first professional one.’ 

So, yep, she was in a shitty fucking mood. 

But she wouldn’t let all of that stop her debut as an adult dancer. She was going to be a pro, she was going to do it her way, even if the 5 seats she had reserved in the front row were empty. 

So, she sits at the vanity backstage, putting her hair into Juliet’s first hairstyle. She listens to music that reminds her of when she was 15 to get into the right headspace as she puts blush on her cheeks. She offers Peter a soft smile when she sees him in his costume and forces herself to try to look at him the right way. Because the things that are pissing her off don’t matter right now. Right now, all there is is Juliet.

It doesn’t matter if Heaven’s smile is fake as the lights shine down on her when she first prances her way onto the stage. Juliet’s smile is real. It’s meaningless if Heaven’s tears are real when she squints and sees that her mother’s seat is indeed empty, her stepfather attempting to send her a thumbs up to distract from the woman’s absence. And so what, if Heaven can’t go to her happy place as she solos because she sees both Patrick and Tashi’s seats are empty as well. As long as she can still breezily get through her motions, as long as it looks beautiful for the crowd, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter.

And it definitely doesn’t matter, that as she came out of her fake balcony in her sleep gown to blow everyone’s minds with the most loving, fucking passionate pas de deux they’d ever seen, she accidentally caught eyes with Art in the audience, staring up at her intensely. 

So she doesn’t have to feel guilty that when she kissed Peter, she envisioned him with curly blond hair and heterochromatic eyes. Or the fact that Madame Fontaine told her when she stepped off stage to change into her next costume that it was the most romantic, realistic kiss she’d ever seen.

Does Art know he's stupid? Absolutely. He's never dared call himself intelligent. He didn't need the little voice that sounds like Patrick calling him pussywhipped. He knows. But, he still found himself on the highway, traveling at a breakneck speed, eyeing the bouquet of flowers that he has placed in the seat.

He'd known Heaven was serious about this whole friend thing. She's so good, and kind. And she cares so much about Tashi and Patrick. But Art knows he can treat her better. He's sure of it. Despite what he knows to be true, Art refuses to pressure her...anymore. He'd just rely on the fact that if they were supposed to be together like he believed they should be, they would be. Eventually. Soon. Hopefully.

So he came fully ready to play the dutiful friend. He was gonna stand politely by as Heaven leapt into Patrick's arms after the show. Art was gonna smile politely as she and Tashi shared kisses and exchanged giggles as they talked about inside jokes that they only understood. But then he got there. He'd been directed to the front where the two premier dancers families were arranged to sit and found three empty seats separating him from a man with peppered hair and smart looking glasses who had his own bouquet of flowers across his lap and a Chanel gift bag next to his feet. As he inches into his seat the man looks at him with a smile.

"You must be Patrick. I'm Heaven's stepfather, Luca Whitlock, I'm sorry I missed you at her birthday." The older man holds his hand out to Art with a kind smile. "Nice to meet you."

Art offers him his own awkward grin, accepting the tight squeeze of the man's hand. "Uh, no, I'm Heaven's friend, Art. It's really nice to meet you Mr. Whitlock."

"You as well." The man lifts his wrist to check his watch. "Show is meant to start in a few minutes, hopefully he will be here shortly. Stellina won't like for her boyfriend to be late.

Art shifts uncomfortably again, checking his phone. Patrick had reached out to him a couple days after Tashi's injuries. Mostly to make insults thinly veiled as jokes, clearly still pissed that he yelled at him. Art responded with short, one worded messages.

It's the least they'd ever spoken since they'd met.

The guilt he feels for his part in this fight they were having is very real. But it was currently heavily outweighed by his annoyance at the fact that his friend was seemingly punishing Heaven by not showing up for her big night. He knew Patrick didn't deserve her, and he was only proving his point.

"Is Tashi with Mrs. Whitlock or..."

"Oh, my, my wife couldn't make it. And Tashi is still...healing. Her mother called right before I was supposed to pick her up."

Oh. "Oh."

As much as he's glad he could be here for Heaven, he knows that Tashi and her mother being there would mean more. His heart aches for her as he settles back into his seat and the lights dim. The pain he feels for her only intensifies when he sees her step out onto the stage. She's beautiful. The perfect Juliet. If anyone would make a man fall in love within a few glances, ready to die at the thought of not being with her, Heaven would be it.

Her eyes are sad as she eyes the empty seats, using them as a tragic point of focus as she completes her expert turns. Behind him he could hear people whispering about how gorgeous the girl playing Juliet was, how talented she is. All Art can think is that they have no idea. They don't know how she's managing to be so elegant, so beautiful, so perfect, even as she's in the type of pain she's in.

Art would do anything to bring the light back into her eyes so they would shine the way the rest of her was.

He loves her.

He knows it. He feels it as her eyes finally make their way to his seat and her smile is a little more real. A little bit of light slips back into her eyes. She dances even more beautifully, more genuinely than before. And his mind is filled with the same thought.

Yes baby, that's right. Eyes on me. I'll make it better. I'll make you happy.

And he means it. Friends or not. Lovers or not.

It's on Heaven's first night of her first ballet in college where she's the fucking prima ballerina that Art makes a vow to himself.

He was gonna dedicate himself to Heaven Whitlock's happiness. No matter what that meant.

3 Years Later (California)(Age: 22):

Tashi shakes her head to herself as she watches Art pace in the kitchen. She brings her coffee to her lips, blowing at the smoke slowly as she observes him from the couch, taking a small sip before setting the mug loudly on the glass coffee table. She rolls her eyes when he doesn’t stop his steadily paced steps across the floor.  “You good?”

The blond finally pauses to look at her, jaw clenching and unclenching before he opens his mouth to speak. “This is just different, you know?”

“How? It’s still tennis.” 

“It’s pros, Tashi, I’m just nervous.” Art says, running his hand through his blond curls. “These guys are good.”

“You’re fucking good.” She asserts, crossing her arms. “Look, I can’t make you believe in yourself. If you can’t do this, please, let me know now, because I need to know if you’re not going to make this happen. We have a deal.” 

Art sighs, planting his hands down on the counter, staring down at the scattered marble with a frown as he tries to get out of his head. Suddenly, he feels a hand slide across his back and an envelope lands on the counter between his hands, into his line of sight.

“Something for you to consider while you decide if you’re gonna fuckin’ play like I know you can.”

With that, Tashi storms out, heels clicking on the hotel room floor and the door beeping as it slams shut behind her. Art stares down at the envelope, reading and rereading the name of the sender.His heart both clenches and races as he thinks about what the 4 little words on the small, insignificant piece of paper could mean for him. How those 4 words and whatever they’re hiding behind them will ruin his life. 

The Paris Opera Ballet

[meanbossart]

Another much overdue ask compilation! Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!

I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol. I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.

Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!

THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)

I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)

Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work. [MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)

Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.) Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple

And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive

Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.

THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.

Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.

Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)

YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.

Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought

That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.

He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.

HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)

But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).

The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.

I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.

He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.

It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.

I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.

I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.

[whentherewerebicycles]

a complete list of things women can do in the universe of christopher nolan's oppenheimer

be sultry and depressed

correct oppenheimer for misquoting marx

be one-upped by oppenheimer because actually he read das kapital in the original german. sorry you're so dumb lol

tell oppenheimer he needs to get laid

refuse to believe he can read sanskrit

challenge him to read sanksrit during sex

seem unimpressed by him reading sanskrit during sex

sit in a class with a bunch of physics dudes

tell oppenheimer you're too silly and ordinary to understand quantum physics but could he explain it to you in very small words

drink martinis

be married many times, but nobody gets you like oppenheimer

drink more martinis

ride horses in the desert

cheat on your husband with oppenheimer. nobody gets you like oppenheimer

babytrap oppenheimer

have psychological problems

have an affair with oppenheimer

cast a sulky, baleful gaze at oppenheimer's wife while having sex with oppenheimer in an interrogation room in a scene so hilariously bad i had to excuse myself from the theater to laugh and write down a funny note about it to myself on my phone

get drunk in the dark while the baby screams

ask your husband (oppenheimer) to get rid of the baby. just take him somewhere. just give him to someone else

yell at oppenheimer for putting country over pussy. who does this great man think he is

ask where the martinis are

tell oppenheimer that nobody else can do this nobody else in this whole wild world he is the Only Man for the Moment. hype him up girl he’s gotta build that bomb

move to the middle of nowhere for your husband's job

point out that none of the men thought to add a kitchen to the houses they built. a woman needs a kitchen

be pregnant

type

kill yourself

have another martini

damage your reproductive organs by handling radioactive material

put up the sheets

bring in the sheets

wreck oppenheimer's career by being a communist

throw a glass at a wall and scream because your idiot husband oppenheimer won't admit that his boss shanked him politically

snark at the guy interrogating your husband but in a kind of confusing way that achieves nothing. you did your absolute best with that scene emily you were not given much to work with i do not lay the blame at your door

not shake a man's hand

it's happy hour somewhere girl. treat yourself to a martini

[rosietaeyongswife]

shameless | kim doyoung

AU: angst, fluff, drama, cheating au, readerxtaeyongxdoyoung SYNOPSIS: Marriage was supposed to be your dream. You were in love with Taeyong, until you came to realization that maybe he's not the one. Thankfuly, his best friends was there for you when you needed him the most. WC: 8k TW: cursing, cheating, mentions of sex AU: i do not support any kind of cheating. never. it's a pure fiction. yall i think i've improved my english lol one day i'll fix all my works because lmao yeah enjoy this pls:P

Marriage. How foolish of you to think it's going to be a dream come true. Well, everyone else stated that fact. According to them, marriage is one of the best stages of life. You've reached a certain point in life - perhaps an achievement. Too bad none of them said how much of a burden it can be.

Of course, the first few months were perfect. Dates, flowers, and affection. Isn't this what every woman craves? Kisses, gifts, and affirmations from your loved one. Those things blinded you. Only if you knew back then. Maybe then you would've left. It was your choice to ignore all the red flags. It's been a year, and it's a nightmare.

"Baby, can you do laundry?" You were running late, yet Taeyong does nothing. He could help you, at least. "I have to leave already. I showed you the other day how to do it. Will you do it for me, please?"

Taeyong was playing Call of Duty on the PS4 you've bought for him on his 27th birthday. He was focused on the game.

"Sure. I'll do it."

Without any other word, you left. Sometimes you'd like to smash that PlayStation into pieces. Taeyong does nothing around the house besides playing that damn thing.

It was a late call meeting with your work team. You couldn't focus on the words of your co-workers due to that weird gut feeling. Something deep down felt like something would go wrong. Ignoring this wasn't helping at all.

"Y/N, we want you to manage this project with Chaeyoung. Is that alright with you?" Your boss asked while you were drifting in your thoughts. "We believe your reviews and suggestions would make this successful on the market."

"Of course, I'll handle this."

"Thank you." He looked at the watch. "Okay, it's 9 p.m. We're done for today. I'm sorry we had to hold a meeting. It was a surprise to us too. You can go all home now."

Everyone left in a hurry, and so did you. The weather got worse, and it was raining. You couldn't get cold, so you called your husband. Silence. Again silence. He didn't pick up your calls. All you could do was run and pray that a bus would arrive.

"I called."

"Sorry, baby. I was too busy with the game. Look, I ranked up."

"That's amazing, but it's pouring outside, and I had to walk there by myself." You rolled your eyes at your husband's ignorance. "I'm fuckin tired. I just want to take a shower and go to sleep. Have you done the laundry like I asked you to?"

"Yes. It wasn't that hard." He laughed and turned the PS4 off. "I'm heading to sleep. Waiting for you in the bedroom."

At least he did what you had asked for. Walking in the bathroom was hopeful for you. Little did you know how much anger it would bring you.

"Taeyong! What the fuck have you done?!" Your husband was quick to run back to you. He was looking at you confusedly. "How could you ruin my white shirt for tomorrow? Why would you put red socks together with white laundry?"

"My bad. I'm sorry, honey." He looked at you with his doe eyes. "I didn't notice, sorry once again. I'll give you money to buy a new one."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" You scoffed. "I needed that shirt for work tomorrow. It's past 10p.m, what am I supposed to do? I asked you for one thing, and you managed to fuck it up."

"It's just a shirt, Y/N. You're overreacting. You can buy another one."

"It's not just about the shirt, Taeyong. You don't understand." You went next to him. "I don't have any clothes for work. Fuck."

Taeyong apologized once again and went back to the bed. He didn't really care about the fact that he ruined your shirt and left you alone past 10 pm, looking for clothes for work. He difted away to sleep while you had to hold your anger in yourself and calm down.

Your husband and you both work for the same company. You work in different departments and both of you start work at different hours. Taeyong got up and left an hour before you. As usual, you woke up to dirty dishes on the table and a cup of coffee on the counter. He didn't respect the fact that it was you who was cleaning the whole apartment.

"Look there. I guess you could've described another problem here, and we would put it together." Chaeyoung was taking notes on your words. "Do it, then send me the rest of the thing. I'll try to finish it by Friday."

"Thank you, and of course, I'm doing it."

Mark Lee was sipping on his coffee when he approached you. He was your best friend and best colleague from the company. Both of you go along pretty well.

"Someone's not in the mood today, huh?"

"Mark, please." You stopped on your way. "Don't get on my nerves today. It's not funny at all."

"Sorry, Miss Not in the Mood." He chuckled. "You slept on the wrong side, or what?"

"I slept on the right side."

"Then what happened?"

"Taeyong happened." Mentioning of your husband made your head hurt. "I asked him for one simple thing. Do laundry. That's all! Guess what." Mark was waiting for you to finally tell you the tea. "He ruined my shirt for today. I was tired, hungry, and annoyed, and on top of that, I had to find myself clothes for today."

Mark could only laugh. He was aware of your husband and how clumsy he can be.

"How did he even do it?"

"He put red socks and underwear together with white clothes. The majority of clothes were pijamas, but still. I didn't ask for much. I explained how the washing machine works about ten times!"

"Everyone makes mistakes, but your husband is crossing the line, Y/N. I'd be mad too. Yesterday was a horrible day."

It's almost the end of the month, so everyone is worked up. Every project needs to be finished ASAP, clients are waiting and aren't patient, and on top of that, your boss is scolding you for every little mistake you've made.

"You should be thankful you don't have to deal with it."

Another day went the same way. Today was another hard day, and the only thing you wished to do was fall asleep, but it seems like you won't be able to do that.

"Honey, I missed you."

Taeyong was looking at you with lust in his eyes. Deep down, you knew what he was about.

"Not today, sorry. I had a rough day, I'm exhausted."

"C'mon. I missed you and your body so much." He began to kiss down your neck. "I want you."

Anger was boiling in your veins. It's like you're talking to a wall.

"I told you no, why don't you give up? I'm not in the mood, I had a tiring day, and you expect me to fuck?"

"Fuck, Y/N." He stopped and put his hands into his hair. "We haven't had sex in months, alright? I have my needs, I'm fuckin horny, and I want to fuck my wife. I want us to feel good, yet you're always too busy to do so."

"I fuckin told you I'm tired. You're so, so.." His gaze went upon you. "Pushy. Leave me alone."

"Great."

The last thing you've heard was a door shutting. He left, and God knows when he'll be back. Like a kid. Your husband behaves like a spoiled child. Nothing ever satisfies him, and he wants things his way. Nothing in between.

Once you've been reading about all those unhappy couples who have sex once in a while, don't talk too much, or don't even know too much about each other. They're just together because they get used to each other and are way too comfortable to let go and leave. Little did you know you were going to face the same fate.

"Fuckin hell." You rolled your eyes. Taeyong wasn't picking up your calls when it was an important matter. "Boss, can I go into the marketing department to meet my husband? It's urgent."

He didn't even look up, but he nodded. Men.

The marketing floor was only three floors higher. Of course, you've known the majority of people working there thanks to Lee Taeyong. A few employees passed and greeted you.

Johnny was sitting by his desk, probably busy with his tasks that needed to be done by today.

"Hi, Johnny." He sent you a smile. "Do you know where Taeyong is?"

"Oh, hello, Y/N. Shit. I think he might leave for a lunch break with Jaehyun and Yuta."

"He did."

The voice was familiar to you. Turning your head, you saw no one else but Kim Doyoung. Your husband's co-worker and best friend.

"Fuck. Thank you, guys."

"Something did happen?"

"I wanted to ask him to drive me to Kun's bakery. It's Jaehyun's birthday in two days, but they need me there today. I guess they couldn't find a sample?" Doyoung was looking at you with his soft eyes, while you were stressed. "Nevermind. I'll go."

"Wait." Doyoung grabbed his coat. "I'll drive you. It's no problem for me. I'm on the break anyway."

Your whole body relaxed at his words. Somehow you felt different, because Taeyong usually rejects your requests, but Doyoung? He agreed right away.

As both you and Doyoung were on your way to Kun's bakery, Taeyong called you a few times. Asshole.

"Thank you, really. You have no clue how much this matters to me. You saved my day, Doyoung."

"No worries, I mean, I'm just driving you to the bakery. It's not hard, or something."

"I fear some people wouldn't agree." Doyoung glanced at you for a second. "Nevermind. Thank you, again. I bet Taeyong doesn't even remember we booked a cake at Kun's."

Both of you laughed at your remark. Doyoung was aware of how clumsy and nonresponsible his best friend can be.

"It wouldn't be Taeyong if he didn't forget about such a thing. But hey, look at you. You're about to solve a problem with Kun and come back to work, and you didn't need Taeyong's help."

"Wow, I'm so independent now. Not like you drove me there, at all."

Kim Doyoung was a year younger than Taeyong. Both of them have known each other since high school. Then they applied to the same business school where you met Taeyong. Both of them graduated and found a job at Lee Sooman's company. Like you did. Doyoung was different than Taeyong. He was clean, tidy, and he could cook. Everyone could depend on him when needed. He never let any of your friends down. Never. If you needed help, you should've called Doyoung. He was stylish and looked like an old-money guy. None of your friends, nor you, have seen him date. He probably had a few girlfriends, but they weren't serious, as you guessed.

"Well, I can pay you for-"

"Y/N, please." He stopped you mid-sentence. "Don't pay me at all. I had a great time picking a cake with you."

"Me too, Doyoung. Again, you're wonderful."

Taeyong was looking at you through the window of his office. He was calling you for an hour, and he had no response from you. He was a bit worried, but as he saw you with Doyoung.. He was relaxed.

Mark was smiling from ear to ear. He saw you coming into the building with Doyoung from the marketing department.

"What were you doing with Kim Doyoung?" He was moving his eyebrows in a funny way. "He's cool, right?"

"I had an emergency at Kun's bakery, yet my lovely husband wasn't picking up my calls." Mark scoffed. "He gave me a ride, and yes, he's a cool guy."

"Jaehyun's birthday, right?" You nodded. "I bought him a watch, and what about you and Taeyong?"

"I don't know. I was supposed to buy a cake, Taeyong is going to buy a gift. Please, I wish he had already done that."

Jaehyun's birthday is always a party at his house. He invites a whole friend group on the weekend, and makes a dinner. Everyone is drinking and having fun together. It was supposed to be an amazing day, but only if your husband didn't ruin it the day before.

"What do you mean you forgot?" Taeyong was stressed too. He knew he was meant to do something, but he had no idea what exactly. "Taeyong, you promised me you're going to buy him a gift!"

"Fuck, I forgot! Couldn't you do it? I'm busy with work, so it wouldn't hurt, Y/N."

"Are you kidding me?" You put on your coat. "I'm also working, I'm cleaning and cooking, I ordered the cake for Jaehyun's birthday, and both of us agreed that you're going to buy a gift!"

Every favor you're asking Taeyong for, ends in the same way every, fuckin, time. You can never depend on him.

"I help you too! Don't make me look like I'm some kind of lazy jerk. I simply forgot, things happen, okay."

"And what are we going to do? Are we going to show up with a cake for his 27th birthday and say sorry, but Taeyong fucked up once again?" The sarcasm in your tone was noticeable, and your husband wasn't a fan of it. "Do you even know what he likes?" Taeyong couldn't answer as he had no thoughts. "I knew it. God."

"Where are you going? It's past 8pm, and it's freezing outside?"

"None of your business. Clean after dinner. That's the last thing I'm asking you to do."

Cold February nights like this make you wonder about your life. Lately, both you and Taeyong have been fighting. You couldn't even remember when the last time both of you exchanged "I love yous". Are your friend's marriages the same? Do they fight a lot? Do they fight every day? Do they overcome it? To you, it seems like an endless circle.

Luck was with you tonight, because the old vinyl shop was open until 9. You made it on time to buy a jazz vinyl record for Jaehyun. He was a huge fan, everyone knew it, except Taeyong.

"That's a hundred dollas, mam."

The last shop you're going to visit is one owned by Haechan's uncle, who sells prestigious wines from all around the world. It was just a few blocks away.

As you were looking for a wine thatJaehyun hasn't tried yet, you've noticed familiar sillhouete.

"Doyoung?"

"Y/N?" He turned back with a gummy smile. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Emergency. Again."

"Mark mentioned that Taeyong was supposed to buy a gift, right?" He was visibly confused. "Then why are you here?"

"Key word 'supposed'."

For the first time ever, Doyoung felt bad for you. He always thought that you're a couple goals. Back in the day, you couldn't shut up about Taeyong. Either of you, were talking about each other, still in love. Taeyong never complained, nor did you. To be honest, every single one of your friends thinks you and Taeyong live your dream lives. Only Mark knew it was total opposite.

"I mean, maybe he was tired? Everyone works hard these days, people tend to forget things at times."

"Doyoung, please." You laughed sacristically. "I agree, but Taeyong always forgets about something. Doesn't matter if he's tired, or not."

For the time being, Doyoung had no explanation, nor could he defend his friend.

After a few minutes, Doyoung helped you pick a wine and took you home. It was another time he saved you. He was kind enough to drive you home.

"See you tomorrow, Y/N."

"See you too." As you were about to go into the building, you turned around. "Again, thank you."

Taeyong was asleep in the living room with a TV on. Typical of him. You looked over, and once again, Lee Taeyong disappointed you. The dishes were in the sink, not washed. You put the gifts down and did the dishes yourself.

Morning was a tense one. Neither of you speaks to yourself. The only thing you said was that you're going to pick up the cake by 5 pm. It was Saturday, and both you and your husband had a free day. Taeyong was probably waiting for you to make a lunch or something, but it wasn't your plan. You made yourself some waffles and ate them by yourself.

"Where's some for me?"

"Don't you have hands? Do it yourself."

He was looking at you in disbelief. Taeyong was used to you cooking and serving him food.

"Why are you bitching? I've already apologized. What else am I supposed to do?"

"I'm not bitching. I just made lunch for myself." He was getting annoyed with you. "It seems like I'm some kind of housewife to you. I'm not. Learn to do things yourself."

By 5pm, both of you were getting ready. It's been a long time since both of you went together somewhere. Taeyong stopped asking you on dates long time ago. Of course, you missed those silly dates. Your husband doesn't put effort in.

Taeyong was waiting for you in the car, while you put everything into a bag. One last look into the mirror, and you were looking pretty. In your eyes, everything seems fine.

"What are you wearing?" Taeyong almost burst laughing. "Honey, go change yourself, I don't think you look the best in such a dress."

For a moment, you felt stupid. Your own husband laughed at your look, even though you thought you looked great. A knee high, black dress and boots with a coat. Everyone was wearing that. It was a cute look.

"What do you even mean?"

"It's not made for you, I guess? I don't know, I just want to help you to not get emberrased."

"Oh, fuck you, Taeyong."

There was no time for changing, besides, you felt cute. A month ago, you would've run into the apartment to change but not today. You tried to ingore peaks Taeyong took. He hurt you. You thought you could ignore it, but as soon as you arrived, your self esteem was six fit under.

"Hey guys! Wow, Y/N, you look stuning!" Jaehyun welcomed you with a kiss on the cheek. "Suit yourselfs."

Jaehyun complimented you, but inside of your head there were Taeyong's words.

In the living room, everyone was waiting until Haechan would arrive with his fiance, Jimin. Johnny was sipping on a coffee with Sooyoung. Taeil was taking photos with his wife, Joohyun. Yuta, Jungwoo and Jaehyun were making food. Mark was laughing with his girlfriend, Soyeon. Doyoung was looking at you and Taeyong, when both of you arrived. Doyoung couldn't stop himself from looking at you. This dress complimented your body and your bueaty the best.

"Everyone let's drink. It's our Jaehyun's birthday." Johnny stood up with a glass of champagne in his left hand. "I can't believe you're already 27. We're all happy to be here and celebrate with you, dude."

The party was going great, everyone had fun, and none of the guests seem to be annoyed, or not having fun. Taeyong found himself sitting with Yuta playing games and drinking beer.

"Men are like children." Joohyun sat down next to you on the coach. "I can't believe they're almost in their 30s."

"Don't tell me that. Look at them, they're playing on the PlayStation as if they were teenage boys."

"At least we can have some time to ourselfes."

Joohyun was right. She was with Taeil since freshman year of the college. She was three years older than Moon Taeil and she was one of your closest female friends. Everyone looks up to her, since she was the oldest one in the friend group.

"Can I ask you something?" Joohyun looked at you waiting for your question. "Do you fight with Taeil often?"

"Hell yes! We fought in the morning because he didn't clean the bathroom like I asked him to."

"Did he do it after you had scolded him?"

"Of course. What kind of question is that?" She laughed at you, but you were dead serious. "Wait. Doesn't Taeyong do the same? You know, if you scold a man, then he's kind of irritated, but do it anyway out of respect for you."

"He doesn't. You see, I asked him to do something. I show him how to do things properly, so he won't have to need my help. I explain it like I'm speaking to a child. I do it about ten times per chore." You giggled at yourself. "Guess what. He doesn't do it. No matter how much I ask for, he either forgets, or doesn't do it at all."

Joohyun, for the first time ever since she has met you, felt bad for you. For the first time ever, Taeyong doubted her.

"I have no idea what to say, Y/N. It's not supposed to be like that. You're a duo after all."

"I don't think we're a duo, Joohyun."

For the rest of the night, Taeyong didn't give you attention, which you were thankful for. He got on your nerves enough. He was hanging out with his homeboys, enjoying himself, not worrying about you. In his mind, both of you have a perfect life. You are happy together, and you're madly in love. Maybe love is starting to be a too strong word for your feelings towards that man.

"Are you fine, Y/N?"

Doyoung smiled at you when you were sipping on a lemonade made by Johnny and Mark.

"I'm just tired after work and all this shit. And you? Are you fine?"

"It could be worse." He chuckled. "I see Taeyong isn't with you."

"Thank God. He's busy playing games."

"Still. I haven't seen you talking yet."

"We had a small fight before."

A reminder of that situation from before made you self conscious again. Your husband's words aren't supposed to make you feel the way they do.

"Was it serious or?"

"Not really. It was about my outfit, so nothing extreme."

"What do you mean by your outfit? You look stunning, I swear to God."

"Doyoung, can you be honest with him? We've known each other for almost ten years. We're friends." The man was busy thinking about what might come next out of your mouth. "Do I look bad? Be honest. Do I look worse than before? I don't know, am I not taking care of myself?"

It was a question directed at Doyoung because he was a person from a friend group that you've known for the longest. Actually, it was Doyoung who introduced you and Taeyong to each other. He knew him from high school, and he met you during the same classes at the business school. Kim Doyoung was a lovely nerd. Interested in Star Wars, books, and business. He used to collect plushies, he even gave you some of them. You always have wondered how Doyoung's world crushed with Taeyong's. Lee Taeyong was a popular jerk, interested in tattoos, rock, and trouble. For quite some time, you had a small crush on Doyoung. But then, you met Taeyong, and you fell head over heels over him.

"I don't see the point of this question. Isn't it obvious? Many guys from the department have a crush on you. I saw multiple strangers turn their necks when you passed by. You've always been pretty, Y/N."

"Now I feel better. Thank you, Doyie."

He was looking at you, once again, with his soft eyes. Sometimes, he wonders why you work him up so much.

"No problem. Remember, you're that girl. Don't let anyone say otherwise."

As you were about to respond, Taeyong showed up. He was drunk, and he could barely stand on his legs.

"Did you just call my wife pretty?"

"I did. We're friends, though. It's not that deep, Taeyong."

"I don't know, maybe you want to do something with her?" He was approaching you and Doyoung. Embarrassment fed your whole body as he got closer. "I don't like the way you talk to her."

"What's your fuckin problem, dude? I complimented her, since no one else bothers to do so. Like her husband, for example. Get it together, man."

You wish you could be gone for a second. Taeyong was drunk, and he had no clue what was going on.

"Shut the fuck up, Doyoung. You don't know shit."

"Calm down. You're wasted as fuck."

Everything that came after is now the past. The next thing you knew was Taeyong punching Doyoung straight into his nose. Blood was dripping on his shirt, and guys tried to grab him. You were shocked, and all you could do was scream at your husband. He was never that aggressive towards someone.

Jaehyun and Yuta were holding Taeyong, while Johnny and Haechan held Doyoung. Both males were calling each other names, while you wanted to disappear. Everyone was stunned. They had no idea such a storm was coming tonight. Best friends fighting over nothing.

"I'm leaving."

You got up, took your purse and coat, and left. Sooyoung called after you, but you were done for tonight. There was nothing you could do with your stupid husband. Leaving seemed like a good option.

"Get in." After a five-minute walk, a black Mercedes parked by your side. It wasn't your husband, though. "I won't let you go alone on a cold, dark night. Get in."

"You don't have to, Doyoung. I really -"

"I won't repeat myself."

Even after such a fucked up night, Doyoung had to be the one to take you home, not your husband. Does he even love you?

A week passed by, and nothing has changed. Both you and Taeyong would only see each other in the morning. Not even a simple "Hi" was exchanged. He was too embarrassed after what happened at Jaehyun's birthday.

"Y/N, we would love to move you a bit higher." Lee Sooman, your boss spoke to you. "We found your results to be the best out of the whole company. I want to promote you to a higher position and move you to the International Marketing department. Are you in?"

It was the day that would change your life the most. Working schedule was tighter, and you had to spend more hours weekly in the company. Chaeyoung was moved into the marketing department, so she was working with Taeyong. Everyone in the new floor was a stranger to you. These days, it's hard to find friends. Especially from work. Mark would always pass by your floor to say hello, though.

"Can I talk to Y/N?" Yuta's voice echoed through the office of the international marketing floor. "It's urgent and we need her. I'm from the Japanese unit."

Na Jaemin, your new co-worker, asked you to come. With a smile on, you saw Yuta waiting for you.

"What do you need, Yuta?"

"Are you the one who is in charge of France and Italy's orders?" You nodded at his words. "Well, I think that someone messed up and their orders came to Japan, and Japan's order came to France. Can you check it out with me?"

Both of you came to your desk and typed out the information about the order. Someone from the delivery unit must have mistaken the orders, that would have cost millions of dollars.

"I think you should call the international shipping floor, there's Seulgi. She may know what to do before the boss finds out."

When you were on your way back, Chaeyoung stopped you. She was smiling a bit.

"Can you help us, Y/N?"

It turns out that marketing and international marketing are supposed to make an ad together. You were picked as a person from the international floor, and Doyoung was picked from marketing.

"I'm glad I'm working with you, Doyoung."

"Me too. I would cry, if I had to work with Jeno or Xiaojun. They're a bit weird."

"I don't blame you." You laughed when you opened your laptop. "I think we should start today, and it would take about a week for us to finish. What's the theme of the ad?"

Doyoung took a look at his papers and then answered you.

"Youth. Progression. Victory."

"How the fuck are we supposed to do it?" In your head, you saw how much of a struggle this ad would be. "Any ideas?"

The time went by so fast, none of you noticed it was past 8 pm. Both of you got to work to make the best project you could ever do. Doyoung was a smart guy, and he knew exactly what to put in an ad to make it interesting.

While both of you were working, Taeyong didn't call you at all. You were supposed to be at home at 6, yet he didn't even care. He's probably still mad at you because of the fight.

"I'll drop you at home." Doyoung put his coat on, and looked at you to check if you're ready. "C'mon, Y/N."

"I feel bad. You're doing too much for me, Doyoung." It was truth, Doyoung didn't mind but to you it was wrong. Taeyong is supposed to help you, not his best friend. "Let me call Taeyong, he would pick me up."

"Waiting for his response, then."

It's ben almost 30 seconds and he didn't pick up. Another call. And another. Nothing. He wasn't going to pick up your calls tonight.

"I'm sorry. It's going to be the last time you're dropping me at home. For real."

Doyoung didn't answer but rather smiled at you. It was cute how much you didn't want to depend on him, but you did anyway.

Both of you were in a car talking about the details of the project when suddenly your stomach made a noise.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"Lunch. Sandwiches."

"Y/N, it was at 1. It's 8. Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm fine." Another noise came from your stomach. "Okay, maybe a little."

"We're going to eat something. I'm hungry too."

When you were about to protest, Doyoung shushed you a bit. He parked by a restaurant next to the company. Both of you ordered the same thing and enjoyed the meal together inside.

"How much am I supposed to pay you back? I wasn't looking at the price."

"Don't worry, it's on me."

"Doyoung, I can't-"

"I said it's fine." He laughed. "Enjoy your meal and stop being so annoying."

It was the first time since you could've remembered when you were in a restaurant. The last time you were in a restaurant was with Taeyong on your birthday a few months ago. You couldn't explain why, but you felt the warmth you hadn't felt in a long time.

"Doyoung, I really want to thank you for everything you're doing for me." He stopped eating and focused on your words. "I have shitty time with my husband, work is getting on my nerves, and you're too nice to me'' It felt as almost you were crying. "You have no idea how much it does mean to me."

"Y/N, stop. I do it, and I'm not complaining at all. I like to spend time together, and it's not your fault that Taeyong is such an asshole. I wish he was a better husband. You deserve someone who will love you unconditionally."

After that, your evening got better. Doyoung took you on a small car trip around Seoul. He showed you some streets you hadn't seen before. Deep down, he knew you didn't want to come back home as soon as possible. He parked for a minute by the Han River.

"It's an amazing place. I feel like I'm 17 again, me and my friends go on trips here to follow our crushes from school."

"I did the same thing with boys. Me, Yuta, and Taeyong with Jonny would be here every day after classes because of Taeyong." He was laughing at himself. "Because of him and Kang Seulgi, we were here every day for hours. He wanted to look at her and ask her out. It never worked though, because she left for some time, then we were in business school, and he was dating you."

Kang Seulgi? Seulgi from the delivery department? From you company? Taeyong had crush on her? Suddenly you felt lightheaded, your vision became blurry, and tears appeared on you eyes. You had to take a few deep breathes to calm down.

"I've never heard about Taeyong and Seulgi? Why?"

"Fuck. I wasn't supposed to tell you then." It was an accident. Doyoung believed you were aware of Taeyong's first love. "I shouldn't tell you. Sorry, Y/N."

"It's too late, can you tell me more?"

"I shouldn't. I already have said too much."

"Doyoung, please. Taeyong never told me about Seulgi. I had no idea about another girl."

You felt hurt a bit, not because you were jealous. You were hurt because Taeyong was probably lying to you for these years. Was he in love with a girl that got away? That's why he doesn't care. You're not the one Lee Taeyong loves.

"They were seeing each other for months. He always had a thing for her. She rejected him a few times because she was supposed to move to Daegu for some time." Doyoung was looking far ahead, he didn't dare to spare you a look. "Seulgi left, he was depressed for weeks, then I met you. I introduced both of you to each other." Boy, how much does he regret that. "He was focused on you, then Seulgi came back. I guess they tried to talk, but he was dating you already."

"Now it all makes sense to me. Fuckin asshole." You weren't even hurt anymore. It seems like all the feelings for Lee Taeyong are gone. Even hate. "We've been together for the past 8 years. I've focused on him. I was like a maid! He was never there for me when I needed him the most, but I forgave him. I always did. I did this all to find out he was never truly in love with me. Bullshit." A sarcasstic laugh left your mouth while Doyoung was observing you. "Why would you ever introduce him to me? I would've dodged the bullet, Doyie. I wish you didn't."

Doyoung felt guilty, even though he shouldn't. In his eyes, Taeyong was a good man. He was sure his friend was treating you like a princess.

"Sorry, I felt he would be a good party for you. I don't know. But you can't say he doesn't love you. You don't know that."

"I think we both know that."

Awkward silence occurred between you.

"Listen, I do believe you deserve better. Don't mind him, maybe one day he will see what he has lost. Look at you, Y/N. You can't get such an asshole like him to make you feel bad. I love him, he's my best friend, but you're my friend too. I wish you would be happier."

His words were true and meaningful. Doyoung was right. You deserve better than that. In the heat of a moment, you turned your head towards him and kissed him.

"Fuck, sorry. I shouldn't, I don't know what I was thinking-"

He stopped you with a kiss. Much stronger kiss. It was like your mouths knew each other well. As if they were missing pieces together. It's been a long time since you've been kissed.

Best friends don't kiss each other's partners, and a wife doesn't kiss her husband's best friend. That was the truth. It's been a few days, and it was awkward between you and Doyoung. Taeyong apologized to you, and he tried to be a better man for you. Somehow, you felt a bit guilty because you were married, but honestly? You wished to wake up to Doyoung every day instead of Taeyong.

"I made you breakfast."

Taeyong got into the bedroom with a plate of toast and scrambled eggs.

"Thank you."

"That's it?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" You popped your eyebrow. "I've done breakfast for you for the past 8 years, give me a break already. It's the bare minimum, Taeyong."

"I thought you'd be happy."

"I am. Okay?"

It's too late to fix things now. Breakfast in bed won't fix the damage that has already been done to you. Deep down, you wanted to feel guilty, but you just couldn't.

In the company, everyone was busy. It's April. One of the busiest months for the company. You had hopes of passing by Doyoung. Your project got accepted, whichh made your comapany's saels higher. Mark would drop by to talk shit about your co-workers. Johnny bought you a coffee, and Sooyoung called to go shopping with you. Everything should go fine.

About 7 pm, when the company was almost empty, you saw a well known to you figure. He was putting his things together, probably about to leave the building.

"Can we talk? Like adults, please? Ignoring each other won't turn back time, Doyoung."

"It's not the best time for this conversation, the building is about to close down."

"Then let's talk somewhere else. Even at the stupid bench in the park."

He took a second to rethink his life decisions.

"Let's talk at mine."

After 15 minutes, both of you arrived at Doyoung's apartment. It was located in the center of Seoul. It was maybe the fourth time you've ever been there.

"I know it's bad and awkward. I'm married to your best friend, and we kissed each other, making out even." You chuckled because of your nerves. "I shouldn't have kissed you, I guess. Sorry. But please, let's talk. I kinda miss you." He looked at you, a bit shocked. "As friends, of course."

"Well, I really want to say I regret kissing you. Really." He was pacing around the living room. "But it would be a lie. Honestly? I enjoyed it, and I would do it again, and again, and again. I don't give a fuck about Taeyong now."

His statement made you blush. He was confident in himself and sure of what he was saying.

"Fuck, me too. I know how wrong it is, but I can't help myself."

Nothing else needed to be said. Doyoung dropped everything he had held. He was kissing you like a starved man. As if he hadn't been able to see you for ages. It's a forbidden romance, and you're enjoying it.

Next thing you knew was you being in his bedroom. He was slowly kissing you down your neck, while his hands were taking off your clothes. Everything felt magical.

"Can I?" He asked with hungry eyes, his fingers on the hem of your pants. "Please?"

"Please."

It was the best sex you've ever had. Taeyong usually didn't pay you much attention. He wanted to cum and he could care less if you did. Doyoung paid attention to you, and only you. He was focused on making you feel good. He loved your body and moans you left out your mouth.

"You're amazing. I wish it was me who dated you back then." Doyoung was holding you in a spoon. His fingers were circling your shoulder. "I like you."

"I like you too."

Since then, it has become a routine for you. Taeyong wasn't suspicious of anything. He was busy working with Seulgi. He couldn't lie, but he preferred to stay at the company until late hours to finish tasks with her. He thought you were having fun with Joohyun or Sooyoung. You and Taeyong barely talk to each other, but none of you seem to mind. This marriage was meant to fail from the beginning.

"Y/N." Mark touched your shoulder. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure?"

"What were you doing at Doyoung's apartment last night? I was there to drop him off his laptop, but I saw you coming in."

This question made your heart drop. Romance between you and Doyoung was supposed to be a secret until you'd be responsible enough to divorce Taeyong.

"We're friends? And co-workers? I was doing research with him." You giggled. "What are you even thinking of?"

"Fuck, sorry. I shouldn't have asked." He was a bit embarrassed. "You wouldn't do anything harmful to Taeyong. I thought you were doing something weird with Doyoung."

"Mark, please. How could you think about it?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen you talk in weeks. He's always around Seulgi, you're meeting with Doyoung a lot, and both of you leave at different hours." He was a bit confused. "Are you guys fine?"

"Yes, we are fine, Mark. Don't worry too much."

The thought of being almost caught scared you. Your friends wouldn't understand you. They would blame you for cheating on your lovely, hardworking, and amazing husband. Especially, if you're cheating on him with his best friend. You were lonely, and you lost feelings for Taeyong long ago, he himself probably had lost them first, a long time ago.

"I know." Joohyun's word made you stressed. "Taeyong called asking about you. I covered for you every single time. You're cheating on him, right?"

It was supposed to be a chill meeting at your apartment with a coffee and cake. Joohyun loved you as if you were her sister.

"Before we go any further, don't judge me, please." You couldn't look her in the eyes. "I'm ashamed of myself, but I think that's how it was meant to be. You don't understand how it is to be with Taeyong. How is it to be unloved and ignored."

"Y/N, I'm not judging you at all. Me and Johnny support you. At first, Johnny was furious, and he couldn't believe it." She chuckled. "I guess, me too. I wasn't ready. But look at this. After Taeyong? I really admire you, and how you were able to move on with life.

"I know I'm the worst person on earth because of that. I'm ashamed to face him and tell him I want a divorce."

"Well, it's not a surprise. It's a tough topic. Let me ask you another question. Is it Doyoung?"

"How do you know?"

"It's obvious. Every time we've been gathering together, he could never take his eyes off of you."

After that, Joohyun and Johnny promised you to keep a secret. They didn't support cheating, but they couldn't blame you. Everyone thought you were living a great life with Taeyong, only to turn out it was the total opposite.

"I'll divorce him."

Doyoung was sitting on the chair on his balcony with you on his lap. He was finishing his glass of wine. As soon as he heard that, his eyes met yours.

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you into anything." He said, slowly carrasing your back. "I fear that Taeyong won't forgive us. I may lose my best friend."

"At first, I thought the exact same thing." You kissed his cheek. "But now, I completely hate this guy. I lost my femininity, myself, and energy because of him. I can't look at him, because all I see is how much he hurt me and me cheating on him."

"I'm here. I'm going to support you no matter what."

Both you and Doyoung told your friends you needed to go on a trip to Jeju. You had the time of your life there. Taeyong was texting you once in a while. Doyoung made your life interesting. He gave you something Taeyong could never.

Dark nigths going on a walks on the beach. Singing songs in a karaoke bar or in your room. Doing stupid teenagers shit. Life with Doyoung was different. You felt loved.

Joohyun invited everyone from the friend group to a BBQ. It was a usual Friday. Mark was in charge of drinks with Jungwoo. Johnny was in charge of the music. Taeyong was busy with his phone, while you and Doyoung cut fruits like Joohyun asked you to.

It should be a peaceful night. Only if Seulgi didn't show up. After she came, the atmosphere tensed. Jaehyun felt uncomfortable, so did Yuta and Taeil. You tried to ignore it, but Seulgi was all on Taeyong. In public. In front of everyone's eyes.

"Why is she here?"

"I don't know. Joohyun probably invited her." Doyoung sipped on his drink. "That's wild."

"It is. That's why I hate him. Look how shameless he is."

After some time, everyone was busy with something. Some were dancing, and some were singing old hits. You were on the coach, looking at your friends having fun.

"How are you, Y/N?" Jaehyun and Jungwoo sat down on both sides of you. "We saw you're sitting like a potato here."

"I'm not drunk enough to go up and dance."

"Then drink more!" Jungwoo handed you another drink. "We're having fun tonight!"

"Exactly. You can't be depressed or something."

They were right. Soon after, you had almost five different drinks, most of them being mixed with vodka. You were dancing with the girls, then with Yuta and Doyoung. You really had a lot of fun. Until Taeyong turned the music off.

"Everyone! Can I take a second of your time?" Everyone was confused. Your heartbeat was faster, and your hands started to sweat. "I'd like to share the wonderful news with you!" He was drunk. Drunk like on Jaehyun's birthday. It means trouble. "I don't know if any of you are aware of me and Y/N. My lovely wife."

You were quick to stand up and grab Taeyong.

"Let's go. Get yourself together you're embarrassing me."

"Let me go." He got out of your hold. "As you know, we've been married for 8 years! That's a long period, right? Well, I think someone might get bored of one another."

"Taeyong, please. Stop it."

Tears came into your eyes quickly. Everyone witnessing the scene was confused. Joohyun was fast to send Johnny to get Taeyong somewhere else.

"Johnny, leave me alone! I'd like to share something with you! Our lovely, sweet, and faithful Y/N is a cheating bitch! That's right!" He was laughing devilishly, while you were on a verge of a breakdown. "Isn't it crazy? We all think about her as of an angel. Look at her. She's not all that."

"I don't think you should do it, man." Jaehyun tried to get Taeyong's attention, but he wasn't listening.

"I should. My wife is fucking my best friend, and I should stay quiet? No way! Tell us, Y/N, how long have you been fuckin Doyoung?"

People left gasps. They all turned their heads towards you. Johnny and Joohyun felt anger. He should never done this to you in a public.

"Let her go, man. I'm not kidding." Doyoung stood up and pushed Taeyong. "Are you crazy? Did you forget about fuckin Seulgi? You're not saint after all."

It felt like a nightmare. Everything was going so fast, and you could only stand there shocked.

"I was faithful to her for the longest time ever! And look how did she pay me back."

"Don't be funny, Taeyong." You managed to say it, while wiping the tears away. "How can you do this to me? After what I've done to you. I never told anyone how much of a burden living with you was! Not even once! I was there with you when I was doing every chore for you! Every little thing you needed! I let you fuck me when I wasn't in the mood, because I cared about you!" You were screaming on top of your lungs. "Y'all can judge me. You can throw names at me, I don't care! I've never been happier. None of you understand what I went through."

Your friends were in shock. They never would guess what was coming. You and Taeyong fighting in the Johnny's backyard with a people around. All the dirty things you've ever done were mentioned.

"Don't act like a victim."

"Am I not? You were using me for everything. I lost my will to live, Taeyong. You're a selfish motherfucker, who had never loved me. You've been in love with Seulgi since the beginning. You lied to me, ruined my life and I wasted all those years."

"I want a divorce."

"Me too. I hate you, Taeyong."

With that, all your group friends were confused. Joohyun, Johnny, and Doyoung gave you support. Taeil and Sooyoung reached out to you too. Mark,Haechan, Yuta and Jungwoo were confused about what to do. Jaehyun had no idea what to think, until Johnny changed his mind. They were uncomfortable with everything that'd been said that day.

Taeyong blocked your number, packed your things, and threw you out of your shared apartment. You had no choice but to move in with Doyoung.

"I love you, Y/N. I think I always did."

"I wish I had married you first." Both of you chuckled on the way to the court. "Imagine what we would have done in these years. I'm grateful we have so much to explore about each other."

Doyoung never let you down, or doubted you, or your trust. He gave you loved, you were craving for. He was a missing puzzle to your life. He helped you understand yourself, and improve yourself.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lee, oficially you've been divorced. Mrs. Y/N, succesfuly, you dropped Lee from your last name. I wish both of you happines on a new life's path."

It would be the end of the chapter titled Taeyong, now you're beinning a new one with your true love.

[hwanchaesong]

☞🍹Seventh Drink: Beyond the journey of espresso to dry martini, the only thing that he manages to remember is his baby. 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - Blinding Lights

wc: 651

genre & warnings: angst, fluff, comfort, singer!jisung, bar setting, drinking, implied friends to lovers, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

"Don't you think you're overstaying your visit?"

Jisung tilted his head to look for the source of the voice, spotting you beside him, sitting in the bar while you motioned the barista to give you a drink as well.

"I work here." he chuckles, answering your question and relaxing in his seat more, "What brings you here?"

Interrogation is necessary for you, considering that you are not one to go to bars. You usually stay at your house, enjoying ramyeon and rewatching your favorite movie.

You hummed, sipping on the alcoholic drink that the barista concocted before cringing at the bitter taste, "I am here for you."

He points at himself, "Me? Why is that? And why are you being weird?"

You gave your friend a side eye, slightly offended by his words, "First, I am not weird. I am completely normal. Second, you are the one being weird because see, your gig just finished but here you are..."

Your sentence trailed off, not wanting to continue it but he understands.

He'd usually go back to his own flat after a performance at the bar, but this time, he stayed for a drink. Which for you, his neighbor slash friend, is unusual.

So you went on a journey, despite clubs not being your thing, to check up on him.

It was safe to say that you were worried about him. You are well aware that you might have overstepped his boundaries but you really couldn't care, his welfare comes first.

"Can't I loosen up a bit?" he smirks at you, then his mood suddenly turns gloomy, "It's blurry."

He admits and you listen intently as he attempts to open up to you.

"I don't understand what is happening, actually." his eyes are downcast, slowly swirling the glass of tequila on the wooden table, "You know how much I love performing, right?"

"Yes, why?"

He laughs without any humor, and your concern rises when he blurts out his next words.

"I feel like I can't do it anymore. Like.. I am slowly losing my passion for it and I don't know what to do."

Your eyes widened, not expecting his confession because this man loves singing. Maybe he's confused? Or what he said a few minutes ago, he's tired and he needs to rest?

Surely, he must be mistaken because this, this city that he chose is his lifeline.

The way he talked about it made you realize that achieving your dreams in life is possible if you worked hard for it, just like he did.

He basically fought his parents for this, going against their wishes for him to become a doctor— and if you're going to be honest, his zeal for singing made you love him the way he is.

"Jisung I-" you stopped yourself, is it really worth it?

You urged yourself to do it, if no one else will push him, then you will take it upon yourself to do it.

You left your seat in lieu of extending your hand in front of him to take, and you gulped your nervousness.

"Listen, Jisung. I am not well versed when it comes to things like this but," you bit your lower lip, bashfully meeting his curious gaze, "let's go back to my apartment and think of ways on how to motivate you."

He raised an eyebrow, not moving an inch until you groaned in exasperation, grasping his hand in yours.

"Come on! If you lose interest in this then.. I'd miss those moments where you sing to me the new songs that you're composing."

It is now Jisung's turn to be surprised.

Amidst the neon lighting of the bar, illuminating the place and promptly blinding the eyes of people who dare to look straight into it, Jisung thinks that he's already seen the brightest glow of all.

But strangely enough, he can clearly see how gorgeous she is.

taglist:

@sunghoonsgfreal @yeosayang @mystverse @shakalakaboomboo

[earl-grey-teacake]

so how are we feeling after that news.

I am not sure how I feel about everything since I just keep finding out more stuff and it makes me feel worse and worse. I’m sad, and upset, and it feels like a tinge of grief. Not for my own dreams or aspirations but for Logan’s. That being said, I will continues writing my Baby!Loscar AU and I will continue/ start my other Loscar fics. I feel like it is a tough time and I hope to make it a little bit lighter.

I think my biggest feeling is overall disdain and disgust for how Williams went about this. My biggest issue is the whole situation being portrayed as “Williams is a business, this was a business decision. No emotion here” Businesses are not faceless entities, they are teams of people. It’s why teams put a lot of effort in PR and companies invest so much in HR. They are comprised of people and we as spectators and fans also play a role in the business that is Williams. Fandoms are profitable, fan content keeps people engaged, and those who are engaged spend money. This decision has shot William’s PR and whatever goodwill they managed to achieve last year. Logan is a martyr in the eyes of fans and James Vowles has come off as a deranged man. For the past month, any comments to the media are either of him passive-aggressively calling Logan a failure or thirsting after Carlos in a way that makes me want to call HR.

This decision isn’t even a money decision either. They talk about the upgrades, and need for points but are putting their faith in a driver that is clearly being brought up from F2 too early. They are taking risks that genuinely make no sense to me and I am afraid it may damage this new rookie’s confidence on top of it.

I cannot tell if James Vowles is doing this because he wants to live a bit wild before Carlos comes, has a vendetta against Logan, or he is just off his rockers.

I am happy Logan is out of there though and wherever he goes, I go. I hope he goes to Indycar. This is not me seeing Indycar as so lesser sport where unsuccessful F1 drivers should go it. I have great admiration for Indycar and genuinely enjoy watching it more than F1. My wish for Logan to go to Indycar is for the general vibe and how friendly everyone is and for the fact that I live 3 hours away from a track and will absolutely take PTO to see Logan race.

Personal feelings are below if anyone wants to read them.

I got into F1 last year around September but really dove into it around the beginning of November. Logan was someone who never really stood out to me in the beginning but I began to notice him more and more around October and November and I couldn’t help but sympathize for him. I remember how anxious I was waiting for him to be re-signed and the relief I felt when it happened.

I wanted him to do well and succeed so desperately and as it became more and more apparent that James and Williams, were doing, I became a bigger and bigger fan of him. I know I’ve mentioned it briefly on here before but near the end of last year and the first half of this year, I was dealing with a toxic workplace and an abusive supervisor. As the months went on, the treatment towards me got worse and worse and so did Williams’s treatment of Logan. Our workplace started to mirror each other.

The remarks, the veiled threats, the passive-aggressive comments that points to the same message “you’re under-performing, you’re not good enough”. Most of all, the expectation to practically perform miracles with tools and equipment that was vastly behind the rest of the field. I know very well how heavy and oppressive the work environment must have been. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been to have to be doing it everyday, to have to perform for the public like everything is fine, and take the abuse from James, from journalists and commentators, and social media. I was already breaking under my supervisors treatment of me, I definitely would have snapped in Logan’s shoes. However, while my supervisor got kicked out of their position, Logan was the one who got kicked off the team. I do hope he takes the summer to enjoy himself and heal.

I feel so bad for him and I’m so upset at how I didn’t know this was his last race. I had Abu Dhabi planned out thinking that was going to be Logan’s last and now I’m just a bit crushed.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.1

I thank my lucky stars every night that Yoko eventually got sick of playing secret-keeper.

Paul: I didn't leave the Beatles. The Beatles have left the Beatles . . . John said he wanted a divorce. Alright, so do I. See how they say “Beatles” and they mean each other sometimes?

Derek Taylor on John's position on the break-up: if Paul were to approach him and say “let's do it together again” he probably would; with no more words, he would probably do it. Which is an insane claim to make to a world full of people grieving the greatest band to ever exist unless you are very very sure of that probability. But if it's true that that's all it would have taken, and Paul didn't do it? That hurts my head a little. Do we think he was just hurt too bad to want it back? Do we think he didn't know he had that kind of power? Do we think he was glad to be free of the group?

Ugh my heart can't take it. I'd cry too, John, watching that. I mean look at how they are looking at each other. Look at everything they've lost in a year. I'd bawl like a baby too.

Paul sends John a long, thorough letter, begging for them to legally end their partnership outside of a court. John's run out of cards at this point, but he still doesn't want to lose Paul, so he's just going to play dumb.

This is how bad he doesn't want to lose him, actually: he goes along with Klein in tricking Paul this time. Calls him up and asks him to come to the studio for a jam session, because it'll hurt his case in court. But for multiple reasons – the Eastmans were knowledgeable lawyers, and Paul might not have even wanted to be in a room with John at the time anyway – Paul doesn't come. Which John would've been hurt and angry over, no matter his motives.

"They tell you to stop crying at about age twelve. Be a man. What the hell's that?" I'm so proud of John for his (albeit long and backsliding) journey out of his toxic masculinity and violence. Something I honestly don't see him achieving without Yoko.

And from that quote it transitions to Paul in Scotland, looking like the embodiment of depression, as the opening of “Isolation” plays. It's perfect.

“And don't try to come over here. Or you might get in some trouble.” The way he just froze when he saw them filming him and then the next thing we see is him threatening them? Get ‘em, babe!

John sounds so giddy about this one-upping competition with Paul. I'll scare him and then he'll scare me!

The whole Lennon Remembers era is such a terrible case of diarrhea of the mouth in general, but the amount of homophobic language is quite striking compared to how John talked before and after.

John, talking about George in Rolling Stone: "he was working with two fucking brilliant songwriters and he learned a lot from us." People read that quote and just parrot it like they do with everything John said in this period and act like George had nothing to be angry over. He had every right to be much angrier and hold a much bigger grudge than he did.

And about George's new record, which was phenomenal and brilliant, John is transparently jealous and so cruel. If he'd said that about me and then asked me to play on his new record I'd tell him to go to hell. Why did George do it?

See and everyone who knows John knows how much he loved Brian and to hear him speaking so crassly and cruelly about Brian must've been a sure indication to them to just take the entire interview through that lense of “oh he's just saying shit”. But that's only the people who knew him. Everyone else for the rest of time took this shit as constitutional. And it pisses me off. It should be locked away in a vault somewhere and no one is allowed to listen to it until they've passed some kind of Beatles and emotional intelligence tests.

This crushes my soul. How warped must his definition of love have been by that point that he genuinely believed Phil Spector and Allen Klein loved him more than Paul and George did? It's bonkers.

John in 1967: all you need is love! John in 1971: the point of life is to manipulate people. . . . What the hell happened to you, buddy?

I go back and forth as to who's the smarter PR person: John or Yoko? Because maybe she's right. Maybe they shouldn't divulge that they're master manipulators. But is this one of those times when it's good to be all “look how honest we are about this! We're not hiding anything! We're saying bad things about ourselves too! So you should believe us about everything else!”

Really this documentarian should be hired to make all the music videos for all the Beatles and solo songs. This one for “Too Many People” is perfect. Paul walking into court with a full beard and a confident stride, John and Yoko in bed, Paul horse riding overlayed on Linda's gorgeous face like she's some goddess, designing his fate. All of it is just pure brilliance.

I'm forever laughing at just the title of the song, too. Because to John and Yoko it was so important that they were Weird and Off-putting. Different. Revolutionary. And to say “no. You're not special. There's actually an excess of people like you.” Is so funny to me.

“When she wants an A side, that's when we start fighting.” Oh gosh. Remember how I said he backslides a lot in his feminism journey? Yeah…

Insanity quote Hall of Fame. Yeah, I know he meant to say it's weird to be best friends with a woman. But it sounds like he's saying it's weird to fuck a woman. Which maybe he subconsciously means both idk.

Paul: we need to legally dissolve the partnership because it's the only way we're attached anymore. Ouch. Okay it's true. It's deserved. But that must've stung for the guy who was terrified of losing people. Must've sent him into fight or flight.

I think the point of this framing is to say that if they'd had facetime back then, instead of just crackly phone lines, HDYS would not have been written. Not with those puppy eyes staring him down like that.

Interviewer: the song wasn't even funny though. John: well I think it's hilarious. Interviewer: hmm. Lol I love hearing interviewers talk to John about his lyrics like he's a real guy doing a real job, though. Imagine a music critic now saying John Lennon wasn't clever in his lyrics. You can't, yeah. Me either.

What a slap in the face to Cynthia. Guess she wasn't Cool Girl enough. Should've gone girled him. That would be an excellent fic. Cyn and Jane gone girl their idiot bfs and John and Paul realize they're in love on death row. But anyway, yeah. If Paul would've just pet John's head . . .

Another absolutely bonkers thing to say. That's something the Rockstar’s ex wife says in a documentary ten years after he's dead, not something a songwriting partner says, completely unprompted, in an exiting the band interview.

And then he goes off on what I see as a self-soothing diatribe on Paul the family man. You can see the hoops he jumped through to get himself there. What did Paul want that I couldn't give him? A family. And is that justified? Absolutely not, only pussies and conservatives want families.

Allan Klein: were you and Paul ever really close, then? John: no. John: not that I didn't love him. I did. It's just that every time I let my guard down, he hurt me. Holy shit. At this point, after getting hit in the face with so much of John's Paul-made pain with nothing from the other side but pictures of the happy McCartney family, I'm genuinely feeling quite angry at Paul. Me. An extremely biased Paul girl who knows it's far more complicated and multi-dimensional than this. No wonder the uninformed public fucking hated his guts.

And as they're showing this quote, “I didn't want to hurt you,” plays mournfully in the background. They really are so twisted up in each other there's no separating individual identities.

Okay so he's a psychopath. So what? He's the sexiest man that ever was or ever will be. He's allowed to be a horrible person. No, but really. He's Get Back Paul but healthier. He's done with his depression drinking and he's been spending a lot of time proving he's still useful enough to exist by building fences and shearing sheep.

And this is how Paul talks about George to interviews. John said Klein made ATMP a success but Paul disagrees. "George recorded it all, wrote it all, did it all, wasn't anything to do with [Klein]. It was George's victory, wasn't it?" Compare that to how John does it and tell me again why the hell George is Team John?

What is Paul's obsession with daddies? Actually I know exactly what the obsession with daddies comes from, but we won't get into that here. I do find it interesting that in ‘69 he's saying “we do need a sort of central daddy figure.” And in ‘71 he's deriding John needing one and won't let John's daddy of choice touch him with a hundred foot pole.

I tend to think Paul chafes against authority in general, but that's actually not right. He never had a problem with George Martin. I think it's just abusive authority or authority he doesn't trust yet.