#was already not in a great place mentally but i entertained the call and was actually feeling okay talking to them giving them an update

[santaasi]

obviously blind

pairing: james potter x bsf!fem!reader

summary: for years, james potter thought he was chasing love. sirius black knew better — he’d been holding it all along.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love, james calls reader love, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 11.3k

a/n: it was probably the longest idea to write and edit. i rewrote every moment a bunch of times trying to bring it all to perfection. therefore, this time I hope more than ever that you will like it and you will support me with a like, comment or reblog. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing…

slaves – footprints

You left your mark on me like footprints in the snow

Would you promise me you'll never let me go

November 15, 1971 My dear best friend, Hogwarts is brilliant! You should see the castle; it’s massive, with these moving staircases that sometimes take you to places you didn’t even mean to go! I tried to get to Charms class last week and ended up in the Trophy Room instead. Sirius says it’s part of the fun, and I’m starting to agree. Speaking of fun, I made a new friend! His name’s Sirius Black, and he’s a bit of a troublemaker like me. Don’t tell Mum, but we might’ve let some Filibuster’s Fireworks off in the Great Hall during lunch. The teachers were furious, but the look on their faces was worth it. How’s Beauxbatons? Is it true your castle is magical in a totally different way? Sirius said something about unicorns roaming the grounds. Is that real? Write me everything—I want to know what it’s like over there. Hope you’re having as much fun as I am.  Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WAS UTTERLY SPENT. Not the charming, rakish kind of spent he might brag about after a late night of mischief, but truly, completely, soul-drainingly done. The journey to the Potter family cottage, which should have been a brisk jaunt, had turned into a Herculean trial. Blame the snowstorm that had swept through magical London like some vengeful Norse curse, burying everything in its path under heaps of frosty misery.

It started with a delayed train — no, not delayed, imprisoned. Sirius and James were already aboard when the announcement came, trapping them in a stuffy carriage surrounded by loudly complaining wizards and at least one crying baby. And because the universe clearly found Sirius’ misery entertaining, the train came to a jolting halt halfway to their destination, snow packing the tracks so thickly that it took hours of magical clearing before they moved again.

When they finally arrived at the station, they discovered that Mr. Potter, their much-needed savior with a warm car and a better attitude than either of them, had been delayed at work. Thus, Sirius and James were left to trudge through the snow-laden countryside, dragging their trunks behind them, with James’ endless chatter about Lily Evans ringing in Sirius’ ears like a persistent curse.

“Her smile, Padfoot,” James had sighed dreamily at least seventeen times, his glasses fogging up as if even thinking about Lily caused them to malfunction. “And the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s concentrating—”

By the sixteenth sigh, Sirius had been sorely tempted to shove a fistful of snow into James’ face. By the seventeenth, he was mentally composing a list of Unforgivable Curses and ranking them by efficiency. Yet, even as he grumbled under his breath, Sirius couldn’t bring himself to abandon the trek. The Potters were the closest thing he had to a family, and spending Christmas anywhere else — no matter how dire the journey — was unthinkable.

When they finally reached the Potter home, Sirius didn’t so much step inside as collapse into it. He shoved the front door open with the dramatic flair of a man escaping death itself and sprawled across the polished wooden floor like a martyr for his own cause. His trunk fell beside him with a satisfying thud.

“Home at last,” he groaned, voice muffled against the rug. “Tell me, Prongs, do they serve last rites before cinnamon rolls, or do we skip straight to the feast?”

The cottage, of course, was as warm and welcoming as Sirius remembered. Strings of fairy lights twinkled across the beams, casting a cozy glow of red, gold, and green. A holly wreath hung crookedly on the wall — lil’James’ handiwork, no doubt — and the scent of pine mingled with the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon, butter, and something sweet. Sirius’ stomach growled audibly.

“Oi, shut it, you ungrateful mutt,” James shot back with a grin, though Sirius could see his friend’s eyes darting toward the kitchen. “You’re embarrassing us in front of the wreath.”

James hadn’t even set his trunk down before a figure appeared in the doorway.

At first, Sirius barely registered her presence. He was too busy muttering about the injustice of underage magic restrictions. But then — oh, then — she stepped fully into view.

A girl.

Not just any girl, but you.

You moved with a kind of quiet confidence that Sirius instantly clocked, your steps unhurried, your presence undeniable. The golden glow of the fairy lights danced across your hair, giving it a shimmer that seemed almost unreal. You were wrapped in a deep blue jumper — Sirius realized this after a moment’s brain lag — and your cheeks were rosy, likely from the heat of the kitchen.

You carried a tray of steaming cinnamon rolls, the scent of melted sugar and spice trailing after you like some kind of domestic enchantment. Sirius’ mouth went dry, and for the first time in years, he was at a loss for words.

“Well,” he managed after a beat, hauling himself upright and trying for a semblance of decorum. “Now I see why you were so keen to come home, Prongs. You’ve got cinnamon-roll-bearing angels dropping out of the sky.”

You laughed, soft and melodic, the sound so unguarded it seemed to wrap the room in warmth. Sirius couldn’t help but notice the way your lips curled into a smile that was equal parts inviting and mysterious.

“Hello to you too, Sirius,” you said, your voice carrying a familiarity that made his ears perk up.

Sirius blinked. Wait. Of course. This wasn’t some celestial being summoned to his rescue; this was James’ childhood best friend. The one James had vaguely mentioned — just a handful of times over the years, always in passing and with a strange softness that Sirius hadn’t thought to question before.

And yet, here you were. In the flesh. Standing in the middle of the Potters’ living room with a tray of baked goods and a smile that Sirius suspected had the power to stop traffic.

“Well, well, Jamie-boy,” Sirius drawled, nudging James with his elbow and watching his friend with amused curiosity. “You never told me the famous cinnamon-roll angel was also — what’s the word? Ah, yes — real.”

You raised an eyebrow at Sirius’ antics, though your smile didn’t falter. Instead, you glanced toward James, who looked like he’d been hit with a Confundus Charm.

Sirius smirked. “James, mate, you alright? You’ve gone all... slack-jawed.”

But James wasn’t paying him any attention. His hazel eyes were locked on you, wide and brimming with something Sirius couldn’t quite place. He watched as James' gaze traced over the streak of flour smudged on your cheek, the stray strands of hair escaping from your ponytail, and the red apron dusted with flour and cinnamon.

Sirius almost snorted aloud. This was the James Potter who couldn’t shut up about Lily Evans — the boy who spent half his waking hours plotting ways to win her over. And yet, here he was, staring at you like you’d just descended from the heavens.

“Jamie,” you said softly, setting the tray down on the nearby table.

It was just one word, but the way you said it — warm, tender, and utterly unguarded — sent a jolt through Sirius.

Before he could process what was happening, James crossed the room in a few long strides and swept you into his arms. You squealed in surprise, and the sound was pure delight, echoing off the walls.

Sirius blinked, startled. The way James held you — hands firm on your waist, his head dipping into the crook of your neck — wasn’t friendly, not by a long shot. Sirius had known James since he was eleven years old, had seen him charm and flirt with half of Hogwarts, but he had never seen this.

“Missed me, Jamie?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his unruly hair with the kind of ease that spoke of years of familiarity.

“Always,” James murmured, so quietly Sirius barely caught it.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

He glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to explain this baffling scene, but it was just him, James, and you, wrapped up in some intimate little bubble that made Sirius feel like an intruder.

James murmured something into your shoulder — too soft for Sirius to catch — and you laughed, your voice light and unrestrained. The sound pulled James’ head up, and Sirius couldn’t miss the way his eyes traced your face with a kind of devotion Sirius had only read about in sappy romance novels.

It was then that the memories began to click into place. The scattered mentions over the years, the odd tone James always took when he talked about you. “She’s not like anyone else, Padfoot. She just gets it.” Or that one summer when James had come back to Hogwarts looking utterly miserable and wouldn’t explain why. Sirius had teased him about it for weeks, thinking it was Lily-related. But now, seeing the way James looked at you...

“Wait a minute,” Sirius blurted, his grin widening as realization dawned. “You’re the one. The one he’s always sneaking off to write letters to, the one he’s all secretive about.”

James shot him a glare, his cheeks burning bright red.

“Padfoot—”

“—the one who sent him that hideous scarf last Christmas!” Sirius continued, thoroughly enjoying himself now. “I knew there had to be someone. Prongs doesn’t just get that moony-eyed look over just anyone.”

You laughed again, covering your face with your hands, while James muttered something about strangling Sirius later.

Before Sirius could needle him further, the kitchen door creaked open, and Euphemia Potter swept into the room. She was radiant as always, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her dark hair streaked with silver. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw James.

“There’s my boy!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug before he could even attempt to protest.

“Hi, Mum,” James mumbled, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

Euphemia pulled back, cupping his face in her hands as though memorizing every detail. “It’s been too long, Jamie. Too long. You’re far too skinny — have you been eating properly at school? And what have you done with your hair?”

James groaned, though his smile was fond.

Then her eyes fell on Sirius, and the warmth in her expression grew tenfold.

“Sirius, my dear,” she said, moving toward him with open arms. “I’m so glad you’re home, too.”

Sirius froze for a moment, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to this — the genuine affection, the way Euphemia made him feel like he belonged.

When her arms wrapped around him, the embrace firm and filled with love, Sirius felt an odd lump form in his throat. He couldn’t help but think of his own mother’s cold, perfunctory hugs, her disdainful gaze, and the way her affection always felt like a transaction.

“You’ve grown even handsomer,” Euphemia said, pulling back to study him. “Fleamont’s going to be jealous.”

Sirius managed a crooked grin, the lump in his throat still stubbornly there. “That’s the goal, Mrs. Potter. Keep him on his toes.”

Euphemia laughed, her eyes twinkling, before cupping his cheek briefly. “You’re family now, Sirius. Never forget that.”

Satisfied, Euphemia turned her attention to you. Her face softened even more, and she reached out to squeeze your hands. “Oh, there you are, dear. I was wondering where my helper had gone. The mince pies won’t bake themselves, you know”

You shot James a quick, playful glance before following Euphemia toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit,” you said, your smile lingering. 

As Mrs. Potter ushered you toward the door to finish the pies, Sirius remained rooted to the spot. The warmth from her hug lingered, and for a fleeting moment, he thought of how lucky James was to have parents like that — and how lucky he was to have stumbled into their lives.

James watched you leave, his gaze following you until you were out of sight. Sirius couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mate,” he said, clapping James on the shoulder. “You’re a goner.”

James huffed, shoving him away, but the goofy grin on his face was impossible to hide.

And Sirius? Sirius couldn’t wait to see how this played out.

July 2, 1973 My Love, Summer’s only just started, and I can’t wait to see you. Mum’s already planning another one of her “legendary” tea parties, which means she’ll fuss over you endlessly. You’ll smile politely and charm her like always, and she’ll end up spoiling you with biscuits to take back to Beauxbatons. I’ve got so much to tell you. Sirius and I found this secret passageway that leads straight to Hogsmeade. We’ve been practicing spells to make it even harder for Filch to find us. Remus is shaking his head, but I think he secretly loves our schemes. Oh, and Lily—she’s still brilliant. She’s got the most incredible laugh. But you, my love, I bet your laugh would still outshine hers any day.

Do you still walk in those Beauxbatons gardens at sunset? I can imagine you there, glowing in the soft light. It suits you. Write me back quickly, won’t you? The days are always better when I hear from you. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK HAD ALWAYS KNOWN JAMES POTTER WAS A TACTILE PERSON. James spoke fluently in the language of touch — claps on the back that lingered just a second too long, overly enthusiastic shoulder bumps that almost knocked you off your feet, and the occasional arm slung around your shoulders like he was staking a claim. But this? This was something else entirely.

It wasn’t just the way James touched you. It was the way he seemed to orbit you, like some lovesick moon drawn to its planet. Wherever you were, James was never far behind — hovering, grinning, completely and utterly besotted without even realizing it. And for someone so allegedly brilliant, he was astoundingly stupid about it.

Sirius noticed it within minutes of their arrival at the Potter cottage for the holidays. As the snow settled outside, so did James — right beside you, always beside you. If you were arranging the flowers Euphemia had insisted on, James was there offering suggestions like he’d suddenly become an expert on floral arrangements. If you were curled up in the drawing room with a book, James was sprawled across the nearest sofa, pretending to read but actually just watching you out of the corner of his eye like some hopeless romantic idiot in a badly written Muggle novel.

Sirius had been rolling his eyes so much, they were practically stuck in the back of his head.

THE SECOND MORNING WAS WHEN THINGS REALLY CLICKED. Sirius had woken up earlier than usual — a rare and uncomfortable event for him. He had no plans to do anything productive, of course, but the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway intrigued him. Padding out of his room, he peeked around the corner just in time to see James sneaking toward the kitchen.

Naturally, Sirius followed. He found James standing at the counter, sleeves rolled up like some kind of domestic god, arranging breakfast with the precision of someone preparing an offering to Merlin himself. There was a plate of toast with cream cheese and thinly sliced avocado, a bowl of berries that looked like they’d been picked by woodland elves, and a steaming cup of coffee. The smell alone was enough to make Sirius reconsider his usual disdain for mornings.

“Fancy,” Sirius said, leaning lazily against the doorframe, voice still scratchy from sleep.

James jumped slightly but recovered quickly, flashing Sirius a sheepish grin. “Morning, Pads. Coffee’s on the counter.”

Sirius eyed the tray suspiciously. “Is this for you, or is it for your favorite person in the world aka me?”

James’s ears turned pink. “It’s for her,” he admitted, almost bashfully, like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes crafting the most meticulous breakfast Sirius had ever seen.

“Of course it is,” Sirius muttered with a smirk, grabbing a mug for himself. “You realize this is bordering on embarrassing, yeah?”

James shot him a look, but before he could respond, you appeared in the doorway, still looking half-asleep. Your hair was mussed, and the oversized jumper you’d borrowed from James was slipping off one shoulder, but you somehow managed to look effortlessly radiant. Sirius rolled his eyes again.

“Morning, love,” James said, his voice soft and warm in a way Sirius had never heard before.

“Morning, Jamie,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you shuffled into the kitchen.

James practically tripped over himself to hand you the coffee. Sirius watched, amused, as James’s fingers brushed yours in the exchange, his entire face lighting up like someone had cast Lumos Maxima directly on it.

You took a long sip of the coffee, humming in contentment. “Perfect, as always,” you murmured, looking up at James with a sleepy smile that could have melted a Dementor.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Sirius nearly choked on his coffee. He wasn’t sure what was more painful — the nauseating sweetness of the moment or the fact that neither of you seemed to realize how completely ridiculous you were.

“Right, well, I’ll just... leave you two to it,” Sirius said, waving his mug in mock surrender as he backed out of the room. “Try not to get married while I’m gone.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” James called after him, but the way his voice wavered slightly betrayed his embarrassment.

By the time Sirius reached the living room, Euphemia and Fleamont were already seated by the fireplace, exchanging knowing glances like they’d seen this coming a mile away.

“Is he making her breakfast again?” Euphemia asked with a smile that was far too pleased for Sirius’s liking.

“Every detail,” Sirius confirmed, sinking into an armchair. “I’m starting to think he’s auditioning for Witch Weekly’s ‘Most Devoted Boyfriend’ feature.”

“Don’t tease him too much,” Euphemia said with a chuckle. “He’s just like his father was with me.”

“Merlin, it’s contagious,” Sirius groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “If I start acting like that, someone put me out of my misery.”

But even as he joked, Sirius couldn’t help but smile. Because for all his teasing, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that James was hopelessly gone for you. And judging by the way you looked at him, Sirius had a feeling the feeling was mutual — even if neither of you was bright enough to figure it out.

AND THEN THERE WERE THE SMALL, INTIMATE TOUCHES SIRIUS COULDN’T IGNORE, no matter how much he wanted to. James’s hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through a doorway, like you might somehow lose your way without him. The way his fingers traced lazy patterns on your knee under the dinner table, as though the contact grounded him. Or how he’d tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just long enough to make Sirius roll his eyes and fight back a gag.

It was maddening to watch, really. Not because Sirius minded the affection — no, James deserved a bit of softness in his life, and you were undeniably good for him. It was maddening because you were both so oblivious. James was a goner, sure, but you weren’t far behind. Every time you leaned into his touch, smiled up at him like he hung the stars, or called him Jamie in that soft, teasing tone, it was like watching two wizards tiptoe around a cauldron, waiting for it to explode.

One evening, as the three of you lounged in the living room, the dynamic was on full display. The Potters had insisted on a family movie night — Euphemia’s idea, of course, because family time was important. Sirius couldn’t say no to the fire roaring in the hearth, the massive bowl of popcorn, and the ridiculous Muggle Christmas film flickering on the screen. But as the minutes passed, he started to regret not escaping upstairs.

James had situated himself squarely in the middle of the sofa, with you tucked neatly under his arm. His hand played absently with the ends of your hair, fingers twisting the strands like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. You had your legs curled beneath you, leaning into him with the kind of comfort Sirius had only ever seen in old couples who had been together for decades. James pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring something Sirius couldn’t quite catch.

It was unbearable.

“Oi, lovebirds,” Sirius interrupted, launching a piece of popcorn at James. It hit him square in the forehead, a small but satisfying victory. “Some of us are trying to watch the movie without choking on all this sap.”

You burst into laughter, sitting up just enough to toss a handful of popcorn back at him. “You’re just jealous, Black.”

“Jealous? Me?” Sirius placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Of what, exactly? Watching James Potter transform into a human puddle before my very eyes? No thanks. I’ll pass.”

James didn’t even flinch. He just grinned, looking every bit the lovesick fool he was. “You’ll get it one day, Pads,” he said with infuriating calm.

Sirius snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. “Right. Because what I’m really missing in my life is the chance to turn into that.” He gestured at the two of you with a dramatic wave of his hand.

But despite his teasing, Sirius couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. James, the arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed, devil-may-care prankster he’d known all his life, was utterly, completely, hopelessly in love. And the worst — or perhaps best — part? He didn’t even seem to realize it.

BY THE END OF THESE COUPLE OF DAYS VACK AT THE POTTER COTTAGE, SIRIUS KNEW. James Potter wasn’t in love with Lily Evans — not really, not anymore and maybe not ever. He was in love with you. It wasn’t in the dramatic declarations Sirius had once teased James about making to Lily. No, this was quieter, deeper. It was in the way James’s gaze softened whenever you spoke, like he couldn’t believe you were real. In the way his hand always seemed to find yours, even when there was no need for it. And in the way his entire being lit up when you smiled at him.

And you? You weren’t much better. You laughed at his terrible jokes, poked fun at him with an ease Sirius envied, and looked at James like he was the center of the universe. It was so obvious it made Sirius want to scream.

“This isn’t normal, you know,” Sirius said later that night, cornering James in the kitchen as he made tea.

“What’s not normal?” James asked, far too casually for Sirius’s liking.

“You and her. You’re not just friends. Stop pretending you are.”

James frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “We are just friends. She’s my best mate, Pads. You know that.”

Sirius laughed, loud and sharp, shaking his head. “Oh, Prongsie. You’re an idiot.”

“Am not,” James shot back, but there was a flicker of doubt in his voice.

Sirius leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “If you’re just friends, then I’m a unicorn. Face it, Potter — you’re in love.”

James opened his mouth, probably to argue, but then you walked into the room, yawning and looking for all the world like you belonged there. James’s expression softened immediately, his gaze lingering on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Sirius didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.

Because James Potter was already lost, and for once, Sirius didn’t mind watching his best mate fall.

March 30, 1975

My Love, It’s been ages since your last letter, and I miss you like mad. Exams are coming up, and I’m hopeless at concentrating without your words to keep me sane. The Marauders are in full swing, though—our latest adventure involved sneaking a swamp into one of the corridors. Filch is still grumbling about it. I told you before how Lily has the most beautiful laugh, right? Well, I think she might finally be warming up to me. I’m playing it cool, but honestly, every time she looks at me, I feel like a kid with a new broomstick. And yet... you’re still the one I write to when I want to share everything. Funny, isn’t it? How’s the ballet going? I remember you mentioned your school recital. I wish I could see you dance. You’d be like a dream on stage, graceful and bright. Maybe one day. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WASN’T ONE TO BELIEVE IN LOVE — not the kind spun into poetry or whispered in secret corners of libraries. Sweet words, fleeting touches, long glances… all of it sounded like an elaborate prank. A fantasy created by people who hadn’t tasted the bitterness of the world.

How could anyone believe in love when raised in a house where affection was a weapon and the family motto might as well have been stab first, smile later? The Black family had given Sirius many things: wealth, privilege, and a last name dripping in infamy. But love? That was a foreign concept, spoken in a dialect he’d never been taught.

And yet, Sirius Black — child of darkness and rebellion — had found light. That light had a name: James Potter. From the moment James had barreled into Sirius’s life, grinning like the sun itself, everything had shifted. James had yanked him out of the shadows and dragged him into a world Sirius didn’t know existed — a world filled with warmth, laughter, and actual hugs.

It wasn’t just James, though. It was the whole bloody Potter family. Euphemia and Fleamont were like characters out of a Muggle holiday film. Euphemia, with her soft, unrelenting affection, had made it her personal mission to drown Sirius in love and sweaters. Fleamont’s laughter could fill a room, a deep, belly-shaking sound that warmed Sirius from the inside out. Together, they moved through the world as though their love was an unshakable force, a steady undercurrent in every shared look and word.

“Darling,” Fleamont would call from across the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a newspaper in hand.

“Yes, Fleamont?” Euphemia would reply, her smile soft and teasing as she stirred whatever heavenly dish she was making.

Never by name. Always darling.

Still, if love like that was rare, James bloody Potter seemed hell-bent on stumbling into it without even realizing.

James and you had been dancing around each other for years, so oblivious it was borderline painful. Sirius sometimes wondered if you two were practicing for a comedy sketch, the way you acted like best mates while exuding the kind of tension that could make a Dementor blush. If Sirius had a Galleon for every time James looked at you like you were the only person in the room, he could have bought his own Quidditch team by now. And he's only been watching you for a couple of days.

IT WAS THE FOURT DAY OF HIS CHRISTMAS STAY AT THE POTTER HOME, and the dynamic was impossible to ignore. You and James were practically inseparable, moving through the house like two planets caught in the same orbit. You helped Euphemia with the decorations while James carried boxes of ornaments up from the cellar, always hovering nearby like he was afraid you might vanish if he looked away.

“You know,” Sirius said, leaning casually against the doorway, “most people don’t need to supervise someone hanging tinsel.”

James didn’t even glance back. “She’s not most people, Pads.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For Merlin’s sake, just marry her already.”

James froze, an ornament dangling from his hand. “What are you on about? We’re just friends.”

“Sure, and I’m a Muggle,” Sirius shot back, rolling his eyes.

You, blissfully unaware of the conversation, turned from where you were perched on a stepstool. “What are you two arguing about now?”

“Nothing,” James said quickly, his cheeks tinged pink. “Sirius is just being Sirius.”

“That’s never good,” you teased, smirking at Sirius.

“Oi! I’ll have you know I’m delightful company.” Sirius crossed his arms, feigning offense. “But if you’re not careful, pretty, you’ll end up trapped in Potter’s web of undying devotion.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping down from the stool. “Potter’s web of what now?”

James shot Sirius a warning glare, but Sirius just grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just that James here is—”

“Hungry!” James interrupted, loudly and awkwardly. “Right, Pads? Didn’t you say you were starving?”

Sirius barked a laugh, shaking his head as James practically shoved him out of the room. “Subtle as ever, Prongs.”

From Sirius’s vantage point, it was painfully obvious. James was hopelessly, stupidly in love with you. And you? You weren’t much better. The way you smiled at him, teased him, trusted him without question — it was all the evidence Sirius needed. And yet, you were both blissfully, idiotically unaware.

One evening, as Sirius sprawled on the sofa in the Potters’ living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way you and James interacted. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, rifling through a box of Christmas decorations Euphemia had set out.

“Jamie, hand me the gold bauble,” you said, tossing him a quick glance over your shoulder.

James, who had been half-heartedly untangling a string of lights, immediately perked up. “Which one?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “The one in your hand, genius.”

James laughed, tossing it gently toward you. It missed entirely, landing with a soft thud on the carpet.

“Good aim, Prongs,” Sirius drawled from his spot on the couch. “Truly inspiring.”

“Shut it, Padfoot,” James shot back, but his grin never faltered. He turned to you, sheepish. “Sorry, love.”

Love. Sirius didn’t miss the way the word slipped out so naturally, like James had been saying it his whole life. And he definitely didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed as you ducked your head, pretending to focus on the decorations.

LATER THAT EVENING, SIRIUS FOUND HIMSELF LAYING ON THE SOFA IN THE LIVING ROOM AGAIN (it probably was his favorite place in the house by now), a book abandoned on his chest as he watched Euphemia and Fleamont dancing in the kitchen once, a slow, swaying movement that didn’t match the upbeat Muggle music crackling from the wireless. Euphemia had rested her head on Fleamont’s chest, his arms wrapped around her like it was the only place in the world she belonged. It wasn’t dramatic or flashy — just simple and unshakable. And it made Sirius ache in ways he didn’t understand.

And a moment later they were in the same kitchen, preparing tea and laughing softly as they worked.

“Darling, pass me the sugar, would you?” Fleamont said, his voice warm and affectionate.

Euphemia handed him the sugar bowl without looking up, her smile soft. “Here you go, darlin'.”

It was the kind of exchange that Sirius might have mocked once. But now, as he watched the way Fleamont leaned in to kiss Euphemia’s cheek, or how she swatted him away with a laugh when he tried to sneak a biscuit, he felt something unfamiliar tugging at his chest.

“They’re sickeningly sweet, aren’t they?”

Sirius turned to see you standing in the doorway, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.

“They are,” he admitted, sitting up and motioning for you to join him. “But it’s sort of... nice. In a vomit-inducing way.”

You laughed, settling beside him. “I think it’s lovely. They’re so in tune with each other, you know? Like they’ve been dancing to the same song for decades.”

Sirius tilted his head, watching you as you spoke. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want that? The whole ‘dancing to the same song’ thing?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug. “I don’t know. I suppose it would be nice, but... I’m not sure it’s in the cards for me.”

Sirius frowned. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. “Because my dance partner’s too busy tripping over his own feet to notice I’m right here.”

Sirius stared at you, his mind racing. Did you mean James? Surely you meant James. But before he could say anything, James walked in, ruffling his hair like he always did.

“Alright, what are you two plotting?”

“World domination,” Sirius replied without missing a beat. “Want in?”

James grinned, flopping onto the sofa and immediately throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Always.”

Sirius watched as you leaned into James, your head resting against his shoulder. James turned to look at you, his expression soft and unguarded.

And that’s when Sirius knew — again, because he seemed to be realizing this every ten minutes — just how much trouble you two were in.

DAYS LATER, SIRIUS WAS STANDING BY THE WINDOW OF THE POTTER COTTAGE, a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming his hands. The world outside was a vision of winter — snow blanketed the ground in pristine white, the trees bowed under its weight, and the air held a sharp, crystalline stillness. Inside, the house was alive with warmth: the crackle of the fire, the gentle hum of Euphemia’s humming, and Fleamont’s cheerful banter as he set up a chessboard by the hearth.

But Sirius wasn’t watching any of that. His attention was fixed on the two figures trudging down the snow-covered path just beyond the window.

You and James walked side by side, your mittened hands brushing against each other with the kind of unconscious familiarity that spoke volumes. The path ahead glittered in the weak afternoon sun, the frost catching the light like scattered diamonds. Clouds of breath curled into the frosty air as you laughed at something James said, the sound clear and bright, even from a distance.

Sirius couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He saw everything in the way James turned his head toward you, his face lit with the sort of joy that was impossible to fake.

Then it happened — your foot slipped on a patch of hidden ice. Sirius’s grip on his mug tightened for half a heartbeat, but James was already there. His hand shot out, steadying you before you could fall, as if the world might crumble if he didn’t catch you in time.

“Careful there, love,” James said, his voice carrying easily through the crisp winter air.

You laughed, brushing snow from your coat as your cheeks turned pink — not just from the cold, Sirius was sure. “You’d think I’d have learned how to walk by now.”

James grinned, tugging you a little closer to his side. “Good thing you’ve got me.”

“Good thing indeed,” you replied, your eyes crinkling at the corners, your voice soft and full of affection.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, James reached out to brush a stray snowflake from your hair. His fingers lingered for just a moment, his expression open and unguarded, filled with something so pure that Sirius had to look away for a second.

It wasn’t the first time Sirius had seen that look on James’s face. It was the same quiet, awestruck gaze he’d noticed a thousand times when James thought no one was watching. But seeing it now, against the backdrop of snow and laughter, it struck Sirius like a Bludger to the chest.

That’s how Fleamont looked at Euphemia, Sirius realized. He’d seen it that very morning, when Euphemia had walked into the kitchen with a sleepy smile and Fleamont had paused mid-sentence, his face lighting up as if she were the sunrise itself.

Sirius took a long sip of his hot chocolate, the sweetness of it sharp against the lump forming in his throat. He muttered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Never by name. Always love.”

“What are you smiling about, Sirius?” Euphemia’s voice broke the quiet, warm and curious. She stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

He turned, raising his mug in a mock toast. “Oh, nothing, Mrs. P. Just watching James make a right fool of himself in the snow. Again.”

Euphemia chuckled, stepping closer to peer out the window. Her gaze softened as she spotted you and James, now engaged in some sort of playful shoving match, James clearly letting you win.

“Hopeless,” Sirius added, shaking his head.

“Like father, like son,” Euphemia said with a knowing smile.

Sirius huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the scene outside. Sirius’s gaze lingered on James’s hand as it rested on your shoulder, the ease of the gesture speaking louder than words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sirius allowed himself to believe. Not just in the love he saw in James’s face or the easy affection between Fleamont and Euphemia. But in the idea that maybe—just maybe—love wasn’t the cruel, twisted thing his family had tried to make him believe.

Maybe love, real love, was something entirely different.

November 27, 1976

My Jamie, Winter has settled over Beauxbatons, and the mountains are kissed with snow. I wish you could see how the frost sparkles on the trees. I think of you often, imagining the mischief you’re up to at Hogwarts. I heard you’re Quidditch Captain now — congratulations! I can already picture you soaring through the air, the wind in your hair and that unstoppable grin. You were born to lead, Jamie, and I’m so proud of you. Your mum wrote me again last week. She’s sent another scarf, this one in Gryffindor colors. She says it’ll keep me close to you. It does, in a way — I wrap it around myself when I miss you most. Do you think of me as much as I think of you? You’re my constant, my warmth on the coldest days. Soon it’ll be Christmas, and we’ll have the stars and endless nights to talk about everything. Until then, stay safe, my Jamie. Forever yours, Love

THE CHRISTMAS CHAOS AT THE POTTER HOUSE STARTED BEFORE SIRIUS EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO GRUMBLE ABOUT THE HOUR. The sun wasn’t up yet, but Fleamont Potter most certainly was, barreling into James’s room with the energy of a man half his age. Before Sirius could properly complain — or hide under the covers — he and James were unceremoniously hauled to the garage. Their mission? Assembling the absurdly large Christmas table that Euphemia insisted on every year.

Sirius swore under his breath, wrestling with the oversized wooden monstrosity. “You know,” he grumbled, glaring at James, “if your parents had just gone for a nice, normal-sized table, we wouldn’t be out here freezing our—”

“Language, Sirius!” Fleamont interrupted cheerfully, though there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.

Sirius rolled his eyes but complied, though only because Euphemia’s kitchen smelled like heaven, and he was determined to earn his way to a plate of whatever was roasting in the oven.

Inside, the house was a picture of festive perfection: holly strung along the bannisters, twinkling fairy lights glowing softly in the corners, and a wireless by the fireplace playing carols just loud enough to make Sirius hum along when no one was listening. Euphemia’s soft laughter echoed from the kitchen, mingling with yours as the two of you prepared a feast fit for kings — or in this case, a house full of Marauders.

And James? Well, James wasn’t himself.

Sirius noticed it almost immediately. His best mate was usually a hurricane of enthusiasm during the holidays, cracking jokes, sneaking sweets from the kitchen, and generally making a nuisance of himself. But today, James kept glancing toward the kitchen like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home.

The idiot was besotted.

Every time your laughter drifted into the room, James’s head whipped around like he was under some sort of spell. If you so much as said his name, he’d stop mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up like the Christmas tree in the corner. Sirius would’ve teased him mercilessly if it weren’t so... obvious. Painfully, ridiculously obvious.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, WHEN JAMES AND FLEAMONT HAD VANISHED TO THE GARAGE — probably to charm something they had no business charming — Sirius found himself tasked with tidying up James’s room. He grumbled the whole time, of course. Cleaning wasn’t his style, and James’s room was a disaster zone: Quidditch magazines spilling off the desk, parchment crumpled in corners, and socks scattered in ways that defied the laws of physics.

“Honestly, Prongs,” Sirius muttered, holding up a suspiciously stiff sock with the tips of his fingers. “How are you supposed to woo Evans — or anyone, for that matter — when your room smells like the wrong end of a hippogriff?”

As he moved to clear a particularly cluttered shelf, a box caught his eye. It was tucked in the far corner, partially hidden behind an old textbook. Sirius raised an eyebrow. Anything stashed away like that was bound to be interesting. With a mischievous grin, he reached for it, only for the entire thing to tumble off the shelf, spilling its contents across the floor.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, crouching to pick up the mess. His hand froze mid-reach when he realized what had fallen out: letters. Dozens of them, bundled in ribbons of various colors.

Sirius sat back on his heels, eyeing the pile. His curiosity, as always, got the better of him. With a glance at the door to ensure James wasn’t about to barge in, he grabbed the nearest stack and plopped himself onto the bed, cross-legged and grinning like a kid about to open a box of Zonko’s best tricks.

The first letter he unfolded smelled faintly of vanilla. Your scent, Sirius realized, and his grin faltered for just a moment.

October 7, 1971 Beauxbatons is so different from Hogwarts. The professors here are so strict, James, sometimes it feels like I’m being watched all the time! I miss the feeling of freedom you must have at Hogwarts, even if you’re always getting into trouble with Sirius. Do you ever just wish you could escape the rules and run wild?

Sirius chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the elegant handwriting. “Trouble? Me? Never,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

But as he reread the letter, a strange tightness settled in his chest. The way you wrote about Hogwarts — it wasn’t just about the school. It was about James. Even miles away, you saw him as something larger than life, as the embodiment of freedom and adventure.

And James? The idiot probably thought you were just being polite.

February 21, 1971 Sirius sounds like a bit of a handful, but I bet he’s hilarious. I think I’d like him, even if he does cause chaos. You all sound like you’re constantly up to something, but I imagine you get into trouble a lot, don’t you? Anyway, I’d love to hear more about his pranks— I’m sure you and him must make a great team!

Sirius barked a laugh. “A handful? Pretty, you have no idea.”

Still, the words struck a chord. He could see it so clearly now: the way you’d woven yourself into James’s world with every playful question and teasing remark. You weren’t just curious about his adventures; you wanted to be a part of them, to understand the boy behind the Quidditch bravado and the wild schemes.

Then came the letters about Lily.

March 25, 1973 James, you always talk about Lily, and I think it’s sweet that you have such admiration for her. I bet she doesn’t even know how much you like her. She sounds like she’d be really hard to win over, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just don’t forget to have fun along the way, yeah?

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin’s saggy pants, Prongs, how thick can you be?”

He could almost picture you writing those words, the careful balance between encouragement and self-sacrifice. Even as you pushed James toward Lily, your letters were saturated with love — pure, unguarded, and heartbreakingly unspoken.

It was infuriating. How could two people so obviously meant for each other be so oblivious?

By the time Sirius reached the later letters, the humor had drained from his face.

December 5, 1974 Your mum sent me another gift! She’s so sweet, and I can’t believe how kind she is to me. It always makes me feel so loved. You know, when I’m away from you, it’s like I’m missing something... like the best part of my day. I never want to take our friendship for granted.

The parchment crinkled slightly as Sirius’s grip tightened. That wasn’t just gratitude — it was devotion, raw and aching. The kind of love that didn’t need fireworks or grand declarations because it was already woven into every moment, every memory.

And James? Sirius shook his head, a pang of frustration mixing with pity. James had spent years chasing the idea of love, blind to the fact that he already had it.

The final letter undid him.

December 12, 1975 I was thinking about you today, and how you’ve always been there for me — whether it was listening to me complain about the Beauxbatons professors or laughing with me when I’m in a bad mood. You’re always there, and I think that’s why I trust you more than anyone else. You’ll never know how much that means to me, Jamie.

Sirius closed his eyes, letting the words sink in. You didn’t just see James; you knew him. The real James — the boy who laughed too loudly, who lived for Quidditch, who couldn’t resist a good prank. You loved James, not the idealized version he tried to be for Lily or anyone else.

Sirius exhaled sharply, folding the letter with a reverence he didn’t usually bother with. His heart ached — not for himself, but for you, for James, for the years you’d both spent dancing around the truth.

“Merlin, you’re both idiots,” he muttered, though his voice was softer now. 

Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it further into disarray, his mind replaying what he’d just uncovered. The letters — those bloody letters — had been the key. Now everything fell into place: James’s barely-there smiles over the past few days, the way his gaze lingered when you entered the room, the softness in his laugh when you said something clever. James Potter, his brash, unrelenting, wildfire of a best friend, was utterly transformed around you.

Balanced. Grounded. Sincere.

It was unbearably obvious now, as if someone had pulled back the curtain.

And yet, the idiot still had Lily Evans’s picture on his bedside table in his dorm.

Sirius’s gaze fell on the stack of letters once more, neatly tied with a ribbons that seemed far too delicate for James’s usual chaos. He could have left it alone, let James figure things out in his own thick-headed way — but that wasn’t Sirius Black’s style. If there was one thing he’d learned from years of pranks, broken curfews, and bending the rules until they snapped, it was this: sometimes people needed a push, even if it stung a little.

Sirius exhaled and leaned back against the headboard, the letters still in hand. "You're a fucking idiot," he muttered under his breath.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. Oh, the look on James’s face when he confronted him — it would be priceless. Sirius wasn’t one for sentiment, but for you? For James? Maybe, just maybe, he’d make an exception.

The door creaked open, and James stumbled into the room, his steps heavy with exhaustion. Sirius watched as his best friend all but collapsed into the armchair by the bookcase, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looked like he’d been wrestling dragons all day — or, more likely, his dad’s endless list of chores.

But there was something else, too. A tension in his jaw, a restless energy that practically vibrated off him. Sirius could see it plain as day: James hadn’t seen her all day, and it was driving him mad. She was so close — just a staircase or two away — and yet untouchable.

Sirius cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, Prongs, is this why you’ve been obsessing over the owl schedule for years? Didn’t peg you as the secret pen-pal type.”

James’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes narrowing in confusion. They darted to the bed, where the stack of letters lay exposed, and then to the shelf where the box had clearly been moved. He froze for a second before letting out a long, resigned sigh.

“Pads,” James said, his voice low and uneven, heavy with an edge Sirius rarely heard. “It’s not cool to read someone else’s letters.”

The room seemed to still, the words settling into the air like dust, soft but laden with weight. James’s eyes — those unmistakable hazel orbs that always held a spark of mischief — were guarded now, a flicker of something raw and unspoken behind them.

Sirius leaned forward, a grin stretching across his face like the blade of a knife, sharp and unapologetic. “Not cool,” he echoed, his voice laced with mockery, “is keeping this from me for six bloody years. Care to explain, or should I guess?”

James flinched, the tension in his shoulders visible even through the soft knit of his jumper. He moved toward the bed with the slow, deliberate steps of someone walking a tightrope, balancing the fragile threads of anger and restraint. The dim light of the room cast long shadows over his frame, making him seem taller, older — more vulnerable.

He reached for one of the letters, his hand hesitating for the briefest moment before his fingers curled around the parchment. His thumb brushed over the faded ink, tracing the loops of her handwriting like a blind man reading Braille. The edges of the letter were frayed, softened by years of touch, and as he lifted it to his face, Sirius caught the faintest smile tugging at James’s lips.

It was a small, private thing, that smile. Reverent. It wasn’t the boyish grin Sirius knew so well, the one James wielded like a weapon to charm or disarm. No, this was different — softer, as though the mere act of holding the letter in his hand brought James closer to something sacred.

Sirius felt his chest tighten. He’d seen James in every possible state — triumphant on the Quidditch pitch, livid after a prank gone wrong, devastated when the world seemed too heavy — but this? This was new. This was James Potter unguarded.

“She’s different, isn’t she?” Sirius said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.

James didn’t look up. He sat on the edge of the bed, sorting the letters with a precision that bordered on ritual. Each movement was deliberate, his fingers careful not to smudge the ink or crease the paper. Sirius had never seen him handle anything with such care — not his broomstick, not his glasses, not even the Marauder’s Map.

“It’s not what you think,” James murmured, but the words lacked conviction, as though he knew they’d crumble under scrutiny.

Sirius scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated snort. “Not what I think? Mate, I think you’re in love with her and too much of an idiot to admit it. Am I wrong?”

James froze mid-motion, the ribbon he was tying slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t move — just stared at the letters as if they might answer for him.

“She’s…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible. “She’s different, Pads. She’s… everything.”

There it was. The confession, raw and trembling in the space between them. Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his expression unusually serious.

“Yeah,” Sirius said softly. “She is. And that’s exactly why you’re a bloody idiot for pretending she’s not.”

James let out a bitter laugh, the sound low and fractured. He raked a hand through his already-messy hair, his movements frenetic, as though he were trying to shake off the weight of the moment.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s not that simple.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Sirius shot back, his tone sharp but not cruel. “I’ve watched you for years, Prongs. You talk about Evans like she’s some kind of bloody trophy, but her? You look at her like she’s the air you breathe. Like without her, you’d suffocate. And you’re sitting here telling me it’s complicated?”

James’s laugh turned hollow, empty. “Lily’s… safe. She’s who I’m supposed to want. She’s not my bloody childhood best friend.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Sirius said nothing. Then, he barked out a laugh, loud and biting.

“Safe?” he repeated, incredulous. “Since when have you ever played it safe, James Potter? Love’s not supposed to be safe. It’s messy, terrifying, and completely bloody worth it. Or are you seriously telling me you’d rather be ‘safe’ than happy?”

James looked up at him then, and Sirius’s breath caught. His best friend’s hazel eyes, usually so full of fire and mischief, were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.

“Do you think…” James’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “Do you think she feels the same?”

Sirius’s grin returned, slow and wolfish. “Mate, judging by these letters? She’s just as much of an idiot in love as you are.”

For a moment, James didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. And then, like a dam breaking, he laughed — a shaky, unsteady sound that grew louder, freer, until it filled the room.

“What do I do?” James asked, his voice raw and trembling with vulnerability.

Sirius stood, crossing the room to clap a hand on James’s shoulder. “You start by telling her everything. No more hiding. No more pretending. You owe her — and yourself — more than that.”

James nodded slowly, the faintest glimmer of determination flickering in his eyes. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Sirius said, smirking. “I’m always right.”

As James reached for the letters, carefully tucking them back into their box, Sirius watched him with a rare sense of pride. This wasn’t just James Potter, the fearless Quidditch captain, the prankster extraordinaire. This was James Potter, a boy on the cusp of something extraordinary.

And for once, Sirius Black wasn’t just causing chaos — he was helping someone find their way through it.

THE SNOW OUTSIDE FELL IN HEAVY, DELIBERATE FLAKES, BLANKETING THE WORLD IN A SOFT, UNBROKEN QUIET. Sirius stood on the second-floor landing of the Potter home, a mug of hot coffee cradled in his hands. The rich aroma mingled with the faint scent of pine and cinnamon wafting from the decorated tree below. The whole house seemed to hum with a kind of warmth that Sirius rarely allowed himself to imagine, let alone experience.

From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the living room below. The fire in the hearth crackled gently, casting golden shadows across the walls. Mr. Potter sat on the sofa with an arm draped around Mrs. Potter, the two of them cocooned under a soft plaid blanket. A book rested on Fleamont’s lap as he read aloud, his voice low and steady. Euphemia’s head rested against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed in serene contentment. Every so often, she’d smile at something he read or reach up to adjust her husband’s glasses, her touch so light and familiar it made Sirius’s chest ache with longing — not jealousy, but something softer. A wistfulness for this kind of unshakable bond.

But his gaze didn’t linger on the Potters for long. It drifted to the corner of the room, where the Christmas tree’s twinkling lights bathed two figures in a kaleidoscope of warm colors. You and James sat on the floor amidst the chaos of torn wrapping paper and open boxes. The morning’s gifts had already been exchanged, but it seemed James had saved something special for last.

Even from here, Sirius could see the faint nervousness in his best friend’s posture. James wasn’t one to fidget, yet his hands moved restlessly, smoothing invisible creases on his trousers, brushing imaginary dust from the tree skirt. His eyes, though, were unwavering as they watched you. You were cross-legged on the fluffy white rug, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulder as you picked idly at a ribbon. Sirius noticed how your gaze lingered on James, curious and full of quiet affection.

James leaned closer, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable lilt of mischief. “One of the owls was late,” he said, holding up a slightly weathered envelope. The parchment looked a little worse for wear, its edges crumpled as if it had been handled too often. “It dropped this off this morning… asked me to give it to the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you reached for the envelope. “Still using that line, are you, Potter?”

“Can you blame me? It’s worked wonders so far.” His grin was cocky, but Sirius saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he handed it over.

You rolled your eyes, but the way you bit your lip betrayed your own anticipation. Turning the envelope over in your hands, you ran your fingers along the black-inked scrawl of your name before carefully breaking the seal. Sirius leaned forward slightly, his coffee forgotten as he watched the scene unfold.

The moment the letter emerged, the air seemed to shift. Your eyes darted across the page, your expression softening with each word. Sirius could see the precise moment the meaning settled in — the way your lips parted in surprise, the way your shoulders tensed, then relaxed, as if letting the weight of something long unspoken sink in. James’s hand rested on your knee, his thumb moving in small, nervous circles.

“Love?” James’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual bravado stripped away. He was watching you as though the world rested on your reaction, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around yours. “You’re awfully quiet. Should I be worried? Say something. Anything.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your eyes stayed fixed on the page, even as a tear slipped down your cheek, catching the light like a tiny diamond. James froze, his face paling slightly.

“Hey, hey, no…” His voice cracked. “Don’t cry. If it’s rubbish, just say so and we can forget it. Burn it, even.” He laughed nervously, though it sounded forced. “I’ll… I’ll pretend it never happened.”

That’s when you looked up, meeting his gaze with eyes so full of emotion it made Sirius’s breath hitch even from across the room. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, cupping James’s face in your hands. He stilled under your touch, his wide-eyed surprise melting into something softer as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss Sirius might have teased him about — not fiery or impulsive. It was quiet, deliberate, and full of a tenderness that made Sirius feel like an intruder, even though he couldn’t look away. James’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as though you might slip away if he let go.

Sirius smiled to himself, feeling a rare swell of pride. James had always been the heart of their little group, the one who wore his feelings openly. And now, here he was, finding a kind of love that Sirius knew would anchor him forever.

A sharp click shattered the moment, and both of you turned your heads to find Sirius standing at the bottom of the stairs, a wide grin plastered across his face as he waved a freshly developed photo in the air.

“Perfect!” he announced, shaking the picture. “This one’s going in the family album. And when my godchildren ask how their parents got together, I’ll tell them Uncle Sirius orchestrated the whole thing.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against James’s shoulder, while James groaned, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “You’re a menace, Pads,” he said, though his voice held no bite.

“A charming menace,” Sirius replied, retreating toward the couch where the elder Potters were watching the scene unfold with amused smiles.

“Everything alright, dear?” Euphemia asked, her eyes twinkling with affection as she glanced between you and James.

James nodded, his hand still firmly clasping yours. “Yeah, Mum. Everything’s perfect.”

Mrs. Potter’s smile widened, and she reached over to pat your hand. “Welcome to the family, my dear. Though, truth be told, you’ve always been part of it.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion.

THE REST OF THE DAY PASSED IN A GOLDEN HAZE OF LAUGHTER AND WARMTH. Euphemia roped you into helping her in the kitchen, insisting you learn the secret to her mulled wine. Sirius watched from the doorway, sipping his coffee and grinning as you tried to follow her directions, only for James to sneak in and steal a taste from the pot, earning himself a playful swat on the arm.

By evening, the fire burned low, and the snow outside had blanketed the world in an even deeper hush. Sirius sat in his favorite armchair, a blanket draped over his legs as he watched the scene before him. You and James were curled up together on the rug, a cozy tangle of limbs as you whispered to each other, your laughter soft and unguarded. The Potters sat nearby, sharing quiet conversation, their hands intertwined.

For a moment, Sirius closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the room and the sounds of contentment wash over him. He thought of his own childhood Christmases — cold, sterile affairs devoid of joy. And then he thought of this… the home James had built, not just for himself but for everyone he cared about. It was the kind of love Sirius had always believed was out of reach. Until now.

“Merry Christmas, Prongs,” he murmured, raising his empty mug in a toast to his best friend.

James glanced up, catching his eye. “Merry Christmas, Pads,” he replied, his grin soft but unmistakably James.

James had turned to you, his hand cradling your cheek as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm.

"Merry Christmas, love," James murmured, his voice low and filled with a tenderness that made Sirius’s chest tighten.

"Merry Christmas, Jamie," you replied, resting your forehead against his.

Sirius chuckled, settling back into his chair, the warmth of the moment settling deep in his bones. The world outside might be cold and uncertain, but here, in this house, surrounded by love and laughter, everything felt exactly as it should be.

He thought about how James Potter had once given him the home and warmth he never had. And now, it seemed, Sirius Black had helped his best friend find his way home, too.

FROM THE ARCHIVE OF SIRIUS BLACK:

To my future, undoubtedly brilliant, devilishly handsome, and wildly talented nephews,

Listen up, you little rascals. You don’t know me yet, but let me make one thing very clear: I’m the reason you even exist. That’s right, your ridiculously perfect Uncle Sirius is the mastermind behind it all. Without my charm, wit, and expert meddling, your parents might still be doing the whole "will-they-won't-they" nonsense.

So, when you’re out there ruling the world, remember to thank yours truly. The coolest, suavest, and most humble uncle you'll ever have — Sirius Black. You're welcome.

December 25, 1976 My Love,   It’s Christmas, and the house is quiet now, the soft hum of the tree lights the only sound. I’ve been sitting here for hours, staring at this parchment, trying to find words big enough for what I feel, but they don’t exist. Still, I need to try.   Love, I see it now—what I’ve been too blind to see all along. I’ve always thought of myself as brave, fearless even. But when it came to you, I was a coward. I didn’t want to risk losing you. You, who have been the brightest part of my life since the moment we met. You, who’ve filled every corner of my world with warmth and light, even when we were miles apart.   Every summer, when you stepped into my life again, it was like the sun breaking through a storm. You’d sit by the lake with that book you never quite finished because I was always distracting you. You’d laugh at my terrible jokes, your nose crinkling just so. And you’d hum when you thought no one was listening, always off-key but somehow more perfect than any melody I’ve ever heard.   I thought I was looking for the kind of love my parents have — their unshakable bond, the way they look at each other like the world begins and ends with them. And all this time, it was right here, under my nose. You were under my nose.   I think I was afraid, love. Afraid that if I let myself feel what’s always been there, I’d ruin us. That I’d lose the only person who’s ever truly known me, the only one who can look past the pranks, the bravado, and see me—the real me. But Sirius, being Sirius, knocked some sense into me. He said I’ve been acting like a fool, and for once, he’s right. Rereading our letters with him was like seeing my life laid out before me, and every line, every word pointed to you.   Even when you were far away, you were my everything. The letters you sent were more than ink on parchment; they were lifelines. When Hogwarts felt too big, too chaotic, you were the quiet in the storm. When I felt lost, you reminded me who I am. Do you know how many times I reread your words, just to feel close to you? I kept your letters in my trunk, hidden from the others like a secret treasure. Because that’s what you’ve always been — my treasure.   How could I have been so blind? How could I have wasted so much time thinking it was Lily I wanted when it’s always been you? I’ve spent so long chasing a dream when the real thing was right in front of me. I see it now, clearer than I’ve ever seen anything. You are my stars, my moon, my sun. You’re the laugh that makes everything brighter, the voice that feels like home.  

I love you. I love the way your handwriting gets messier when you’re excited. I love the way you argue with me over the silliest things just to see me smile. I love the way you hum when you’re nervous and how you always know exactly what to say to pull me out of my worst days. I love you.   I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I hope with everything in me that you do. And if you don’t, I’ll understand. Because having you in my life, even just as my friend, has been the greatest gift I could ever ask for. But if there’s even the smallest chance you might love me too, then I promise to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you.   Merry Christmas, my love. You’ve been my greatest gift every day since I met you.   Forever yours,   Jamie

thankx for reading <3

god, this is my biggest work and I was so afraid to publish it, cause it seems to me that no one reads such long fics (I myself adore long fics).

and if you've finished reading this, thank u and I love you so much! I hope you enjoyed every part of it and I will be very glad if you leave a comment, because it seems to me that I have left all of myself in this work!

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox. btw my requests are open so… make a wish :3                                

– your santi 🪐

masterlist

[radmista]

Sowing seeds of discontent and disharmony by hanging up on my parents birthday phone call the second my mom asked if I gained weight. Hope that sits badly on their minds while they think about how that's the first call I've engaged with them in 2 months and it was for the dogs birthday. Dad scrambling to text me for my mom that she didn't mean it. Like fuck I told her I've been having a rough month and day. She couldn't keep it to herself that badly. Fucks sake

[seongclb]

LIKE A MAGNET ! sim jaeyun

“you’ve called me a lot of things, sim jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

“not like that! i just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. kinda like a magnet..”

SYNOPSIS. whereby your academic rival, jake sim, returns after spending a year in australia to come back and restore his place: as top physics student but also your (hopefully) boyfriend.

PAIRING. academic rivals to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, flirty!jake x fmr

GENRE. fluff, light angst.

WARNINGS. cursing, jake being flirty, kissing but not making out.

WORD COUNT. 7512 words

N. finally out yelp i think this is not as good as i wanted it to be but i have to post as promised so pls make sure to give feedback and stuff !! special thanks to mari for beta reading :) i love u pooks

TAGLIST. @sjyuns <3… @dollkis @taejaysmain @dear-hoon @oldjws @jjakey02 @luvistqrzzz @yizhoutv @mrchweeee @darly6n @hoonieluv @ghostiiess @jaeyunsonlyone @en-happiness @loumin908 @tasnim10 @rikisly @samyu01 @ashrocker123 @enhastolemyheart @enhaz1 @viagumi @articxari @vnsux @mersmoon @jungwonderz

Kicking your shoes off, you step into your house as your mother frantically scours the house for her expensive china plates.

“Mum, what’s going on?” You wonder, looking around at the house and noticing how all your awards and family photos are out. You groaned, this only meant one thing - guests were coming today.

Great, you thought. After a tiring day with your best friends driving you mentally and physically insane, you now had to entertain guests in your own house when all you wanted to do was lay in the comforts of your bed.

“The Sims are back from Australia,” your Mum announces while pushing you up the stairs.

You pause as your heart plummets down your stomach, “What do you mean?”

Your mum chuckles, “The Sims! Don’t tell me you forgot about them already. It’s only been a year.”

“Mother, this has been the best year of my life. Why are they back? Wasn’t Mr Sim, like, settled in his new job? Why are they coming here of all places, too?”

Your mum narrows her eyes at you as your father steps into the room, struggling with his tie, “Ah, Y/n you’re home! You’d better go up and get dressed. The Sims are arriving soon.”

“So, I’ve heard,” you huff. “I know we’re family friends but shouldn’t they settle in their house first? Why are they coming here already?”

“Because,” your dad sighs. “Mr Sim and I have secured a business deal. We’re going to be partners in the firm soon, which is why they’re back. Of course, we have to welcome them with a nice meal.”

You groan and cross your arms, “Isn’t this something you discuss with your daughter first?”

Laughing, your dad pinches your cheek sweetly, “Now, why would this concern you? Go upstairs and get dressed, you must be hungry after practice today.”

It takes every fibre in your being to not stomp up the stairs in defiance. Sim Jaeyun, the cause of your distress throughout your entire school whole life was returning after a blissful year of peace. The mere thought of it made you want to rip every strand of hair out of your head.

Stepping into your room, your eyes immediately set on the expensive dress sitting on your bed that your mum laid out for you. Just as your parents requested, you hopped into the shower to prepare for the dreadful evening ahead. It’s not like you weren’t used to this; your parents worked in especially high fields and earned decent salaries. It was more than normal for them to have these important, yet over the top, dinners every few months meaning you had to dress up like this often. The only issue was him.

You could already hear his irritating giggles from your bedroom. Amazingly, they were the same as you had remembered.

Before you could even take a deep breath, there were soft knocks at your door, “Mum, I’m coming. Thirty seconds.”

There were the knocks again. Rolling your eyes, you swung your door open, ready to ask your mother why she couldn’t wait for thirty seconds, when you saw him leaning on the archway of the door. His lips were curled into that familiar smirk of his, yet Jake looked so different. His hair was much shorter, slicked back slightly but a strand of it falling onto his forehead.

It had only been a year, yet you were more than surprised to see Sim Jaeyun actually looking semi decent.

His eyes are playful as they rake over your figure, checking you out head to toe. The feeling of Jake’s eyes boring into you evoked a sense of insecurity to wash over. Since when did you care about him looking at you?

“Hurry up,” he ruffles your hair as he runs down the stairs. Forgetting about the annoying action he had just done, you pause for a moment; his words replaying in your mind. It seemed that Jake’s looks weren’t the only thing that was different but he had developed a strong Australian accent, too. It wasn’t attractive, though.

No, of course, not. That was impossible, being Jake Sim.

You fix your hair before following him into the living room where his parents are sitting on the couch in your living room.

Mrs Sim smiles at you as you greet her, “Y/n! You’ve grown so much.”

She engulfs you in a tight hug as you giggle, “No, I look the same. You look better than ever, of course.”

She shakes her head as she makes room for you on the couch, “Nonsense, you’ve gotten even prettier just like Jaeyun. He’s gotten so handsome now, right?”

You nod, sending an obvious fake smile towards his direction.

Jake clears his throat as he brings his glass of water to his lips, “Y/n, have you grown any taller since last year?”

You force a polite chuckle, despite wanting to throw your glass at the smile on his lips, “Maybe a few inches.”

Jake nods, pursing his lips to prevent a wider smile from breaking out, “I see.”

He sits opposite you at the dinner table, sending you winks every so often just to get a sneaky middle finger or a dirty look in return when no one was looking.

“Y/n, you’ll have to show Jaeyun around tomorrow,” Your dad says to you.

“I’m sure he knows where everythings been. It’s only been a year,” You smile.

Jake leans over, “I heard there were some changes. I’m afraid I might get late to some of my classes.”

You turn to Jake, “Oh, really? Who said that?”

“Sunghoon,” Jake smirks back at you.

You nod, of course he did. Sunghoon was the little provoker in your feud with Jake; always meddling to give Jake new ideas on how to annoy you. That was clearly one of his duties as Jake’s best friend since he had just given Jake another reason to irk you and follow you around tomorrow.

“So, why can’t he show you around?” You narrow your eyes.

Before Jake can answer, your dad interjects, “It’ll be better for you to do it, Y/n. I’m sure Sunghoon will have practice and other things tomorrow.”

The little shit was smiling way too hard, again. He just gets lucky too often.

The talk quickly turns into business amongst your parents, boring you completely so you use it as a perfect opportunity to excuse yourself to your room until your Mum says, “Why don’t you take Jaeyun to your room?”

Jake’s eyes grow as he smiles mischievously, “Yeah, you can show me what topics you have been covering in Physics. I don’t want to be behind.”

You take another deep breath, it got to the point where every breath now was slow and used to calm you down in order to stop you from lunging at the boy in front of you. He used every opportunity to get you to agree to yet another thing to help him with while your parents were around.

Jake followed you up to your room, standing at the doorway for a moment to look around your room at a different angle before stepping in and tracing his finger over all your trophies and pictures.

“Hey!” He calls, pointing at a particular picture of you with a trophy after winning the Science Fair competition. “We did this together, I’m in this photo. Did you crop me out?”

That day was quite fun, one of the only times that you and Jake had worked together rather than against one another, which was the usual dynamic. That occasion, your father had suggested for you two to work together. Even back then, it had created such dismay for you but you couldn’t deny that he was the reason why you two had won. You didn’t work well under pressured environments, so Jake had picked up the slack and presented most of it but you doubted that he did it for the sake of you. He definitely did it for the mere reason that he wanted to win.

You scoff at the pout on his lips as he picks up the frame, “Obviously. I’d get nightmares with a picture of you in my room.”

Jake touches the picture, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, “You didn’t cut it. You folded it.”

He dismantles the frame, unfolding the picture to reveal a younger version of him, “I was handsome back then, too. Keep it unfolded, you can use it for motivation.”

Fake gagging, you snatch the frame back from him and set it down, “I don’t need motivation. “So, how was Australia?”

Jake shrugs, playing with the Miffy plush that you cuddle to bed every night, “It was fun. Different from here. Better girls.”

You roll your eyes and respond sarcastically, “Sounds wonderful.”

“Jealous? Don’t worry, they didn’t compare to you,” Jake flirts.

“Ew!” Your face contorts in disgust. “Don’t make me throw you out of here, Jaeyun.”

He giggles and goes back to nosily touching all your things. You watch him in silence for a few more minutes, not minding Jake exploring your room. Jake’s parents call him from downstairs, initiating that it was time for him to finally leave.

“This new business deal means I’ll be seeing you more often than you’d like, angel.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his briefly upon hearing the pet name before he leaves the room. He’s staring at you, searching for a response in your facial expressions but all you can focus on is the luring brown specks in his eyes. The Australian air must have done a number on him; this was not the SIm Jaeyun you knew. Of course, he still used to go out of his way to annoy you before, but the excessive winking and flirting was so unlike him. It was only until you heard him call you ‘angel’ that you realised how different Jake was, now.

You returned down the stairs to bid them goodbye.

“Y/n,” Jake’s father calls. “Jake and I will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up for school. We must repay the favour.”

“What favour?” You question.

Jake’s mother strokes your arm lovingly, and you wonder how a woman so kind can produce that devil staring at you by the door, “We’re so thankful that you’re tutoring Jake every weekend!”

You raise an eyebrow and look at your parents, who suspiciously are avoiding your eyes, “It’s no problem. Is this why Mr Sim is picking me up tomorrow?”

They nod and hug you goodbye, constantly reminding you of their appreciation.

With one last annoyed look towards your parents, you turn on your feet and head up to your room for the night to scream into your pillow about the return of Sim Jaeyun.

୨ৎ

The next morning, at the table while you wait for Jake and his father, you see your own come down the stairs to get ready for his own job.

“Y/n, you and Jake have to go to school alone. Mr Sim sends his apologies, he has a meeting,” Your dad informs you.

You groan softly at the light knocks on the door, knowing it was Sim Jaeyun. “That must be him,” your dad smiles as he opens the door. “Hi, Jaeyun.”

“Good morning, Mr Lee. Is Y/n ready?” Jake asks as he steps into the house and meets your annoyed eyes. Slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking towards Jake, you say bye to your father and leave the house with him.

“Why did your dad want us to go to school so early?” You huff. Jake smiles down at you, “So we could go get breakfast.”

He flicks his dads bank card in between his fingers, “Wanted me to thank you for that tutor thing. Did you know about that, by the way?”

You shake your head, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse. Did you?”

You look up at him and see he shakes his head, with a proud grin on his face, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse, too.”

You stop and cross your arms at him, “Why would you refuse? I’m the top of the class, you should be honoured.”

Jake snickers, “You’re top of the class because I was in Australia for a year.”

He ruffles your hair before walking off, leaving you to curse at him under your breath.

With a croissant and a coffee in each of your hands, you walk through the school gates with Jake. As expected, all eyes are on him. Everyone knew him; you remembered the way everyone was heartbroken when he announced that he was leaving last year. Apart from you. You were busy bouncing off the walls to celebrate his departure as now, there was no debate about who the top physics student was. You knew it sounded condescending and extremely nerdy, but you worked hard for your grades; the title was deserved.

“I have to go to the principal's office,” Jake tells you.

“Go then,” You shrug. Jake tuts and drags you to the principal's office with him.

You fight off his grip on you, “I thought you didn’t know where anything was.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “Shut up and wait here. We have class together next, anyway.”

Just as you’re about to argue back, you realise that you do in fact have Physics next. Of course, he was in your class.

You sit and eat the breakfast that he bought you while you wait. Not long after, he exits the principal's office with a few books in his fingers.

“What are those?” You ask as you try to reach over and read them, only to have them held over your head and out of your reach.

“Don’t be so nosy,” Jake tuts. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

You frown and follow him swiftly.

Jake opens the class door, and all eyes are set on him once again. Your Physics teacher calls him to the front while you rush to your seat at the back, away from all the gazes fixed on him.

Thanking God that your first lesson after the dreadful weekend was Physics was a waste since Jake was momentarily ordered to sit beside you.

“Is there a problem, Y/n?” Your teacher asks following your noises of protest.

You shake your head, not that it mattered to Jake who was already sitting in the seat beside you.

“Thankfully, I got placed next to my tutor. What would I do without you?” Jake drawls with a soft smile on his lips.

“Shut it, Sim,” you groan, snatching your things to your side of the table. “My side. Your side.”

Jake watches you pull out a thin ribbon and place it in the middle of the table.

Towards the end of the lesson, you’re assigned individual worksheet tasks that Jake gets done with smoothly. Unlike you, who is struggling slightly.

It’s not that the work is difficult to understand, but you’ve never been that close to Jake to see his hands. Despite your many attempts to focus on your work, your gaze is teared away from the Physics equations on your sheet and replaced with the sight of Jake’s hands only inches away from your own. In order to control your impulsive thoughts, you have to focus your full attention towards not touching his hands which is driving you absolutely insane.

Jake looks over his shoulder at your sheet, eyes widening slightly, “How are you still on the first question?”

Jolting slightly, you scramble to pick up your pen and mumble sometimes about getting distracted.

Jake bites his lip to prevent a giggle from escaping, “If you need help, you can ask me.”

“I don’t need your help,” You respond and commence with the work.

The bells to announce the end of the lesson go off soon after and you sigh in relief, packing your things instantly in order to get away from that nightmare sitting beside you.

Jake watches you pack up as if he was waiting to say something until Park Sunghoon and Jay Park run into the classroom.

“Jake!” Sunghoon smiles widely, Jay following shortly.

Jake grins, “I didn’t see you two this morning.”

“We had to meet up with the football (soccer) team before school. Join us after school today?” Jay asks.

Jake shakes his head, “Can’t. I have to study with my tutor.”

You dart your eyes over to him, “Not today.”

Sunghoon and Jay break out into fits of laughter.“No way, Y/n has to tutor you. That’s so unfortunate, Y/n,” Jay says to you, and you nod with a frown.

Jake furrows his eyebrows, “What’s so bad about tutoring me?”

“Dude, you don’t even need a tutor. Y/n, I’ve been asking you to tutor me for months now,” Sunghoon follows you around your desk.

“I didn’t have a choice!” You remark. “Our parents arranged it behind our backs.”

Sunghoon smiles, “What? Like an arranged marriage?”

“Ew!” You both said in unison.

Clearing your throat, you look at Jake again, “I’m not tutoring you today. They said weekends. “

You grab your bag and leave the room, rushing to find your best friends. Minji and Jieun are sitting at the usual bench near the football field, snacks laid in their laps as they discuss the precious lesson when you rush towards them.

Their attention immediately turns to you and Minji asks, “Y/n, is it true that Jake’s back?”

You huff and nod, “You’ll never believe it.” And, with that, you start filling them in on all the events that have occurred in far little time that you’d like.

They listen intently as you tell them every single detail since yesterday.

Jieun gasps, “How has this all happened in less than 24 hours?”

You shrug and steal a biscuit from her lap, “Honestly, I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t even know he would be back 24 hours ago.”

Minji leans forward, “Shit, don’t look. Shit, shit, shit.”

Despite Minji’s request, Jieun turns her head with a car and gasps, too.

“What?” You ask, impatiently, wanting nothing more than to see what they were so intrigued about.

“Jake’s in a football shirt,” Jieun claps her hands together and you roll your eyes, although you turn your head ever so slightly to get a look. You don’t see Jake anywhere.

“Where?” You ask, now looking more closely.

Jieun and Minji giggle beside you and you close your eyes in anger after sudden realisation, “He’s not there, is he?”

“Nope,” Minji chuckles. You lightly shove her with your arm as she continues, “So, Y/n. A crush on Jake, huh?”

“Impossible!” you argue. “I was just looking because you guys were so shocked.”

You cross your arms and stuff your mouth with snacks as your friends stare at you in disbelief, “I do not like Sim Jaeyun.”

୨ৎ

Taking tests were usually anxiety inducing, but with your rival back, it was even worse than usual. Jake helped you separate the table into individual seats for the test, watching the way your fingers drummed on the table; a habit to get rid of the nerves.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you, angel,” He whispers, leaning so close to your ear that you can feel his breath fanning onto your cheek.

“Ugh,” You shove him away. “Are you trying to make me vomit before the test so I can miss it and fail?”

Jake sneers, “As if I need to do something like that. I’ll get higher than you regardless.

“We’ll see about that Aussie boy.”

Jake's eyebrows raise upon the new nickname, his eyes gleaming as he watches you take the test paper into your hand and write your name before starting it. Jake leans back in his chair, twirling his pencil in his fingers before he too starts the test.

The school bells go off, signalling both the end of the school day and the test.

Jake stands behind you as you hand in your paper and exit the classroom.

He taps your shoulder, “Did you finish all the questions?”

You nod, “Yeah, did you?”

“Yeah, but I don't think I did that well. I guess it's good that I’ve got myself a tutor, huh?” Jake giggles beside you.

You almost laugh, instead concealing it with a roll of your eyes, “Lucky you.”

“Be ready for one, tomorrow,” Jake ruffles your hair, earning a smack on the arm from you, which he fake winces at. “You coming to the football game next Monday?”

“No,” You guffaw and watch Jake slip his hands into his pockets.

“Hm, I thought you were. A little birdie told me you were,” Jake shoves his phone into your face, revealing messages from your mother telling him that you would go.

Angrily, you twist Jake’s ear and he yelps, “Ow??? What was that for?”

“Many reasons,” You cross your arms. “You messaged my mum to get me to go to your stupid football game! Why do you even have my mothers number?”

Jake rubs his now pink ear, “She told me to take it for the tutoring sessions since you said no to giving yours. Plus, is it so bad that you’re coming? Your friends are there every day.”

“Yeah, to see the boys they like,” You shrug.

“There’s no one you want to watch play?” Jake asks, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

“I have no interest in watching anyone play.”

Jake hums again, turning his face to the side before clearing his throat, “That’s because no one wants you to watch them.”

You glare at him, “Then, why did you ask my mother to force me to go?”

Scorning, Jake responds, “I didn’t force her. I just mentioned it and she said to make sure you go. Why would I want you there?”

At his words, you feel your heart gain a few bruises but you play it off, “I’m not going.”

“Shut up, Lee. I’ll pick you up at 5 on Monday. Games at 6,” With that, Jake walks off to join his friends. You grab your phone and message your group chat with your friends.

You: It looks like I'm attending my first school football game next week.

Minji: You wanna tell me this isn't because of the Sim boy?

Jieun: LMFAO FR.

You: Dude messaged my mother to get me to go.

Jieun: No fucking way

Minji: Yeah, so when's the wedding?

You: shut up, we don’t like each other.

Minji: 🙄

Jieun: keep telling yourself that. Want us to pick you up?

You: no… he’s picking me up

Minji: act surprised!

Jieun: Suit yourself, I am surprised!

Usually, the weekends are more than enjoyable; being that you can sleep in bed for a few hours longer than usual without feeling like you're rotting away as you’re still up before noon which automatically means you're being productive. This weekend was different; just like every day has been since Jake has arrived back.

This was now yet another time that he’s randomly been in your house as if he lives there, and waiting for you to join him.

“You’re late,” He says, taking a bite of an apple.

“I forgot,” You respond and sit down at the table with your textbooks.

Jake sits beside you, smiling at your pyjamas, “Why are all of them so childish?”

You frown, “They’re not childish. Anyway, focus!”

Tutoring Jake reveals to be harder than you thought. He either gets distracted every few minutes with an odd would you rather question that he needs to hear your response to or he’s bragging about how he doesn’t need these tutoring sessions, and could easily beat you in the upcoming exam.

Two hours fly by ever so slowly, and you’re silently thanking God that it’s over when the time comes.

Slamming your books shut, you spring to your feet with a wide smile plastered over your lips “Well, it’s been lovely but, that’s me done. Goodbye!”

Jake snickers as he watches you disappear up the stairs in a hurry, “See you on Monday!”

Monday flies by faster than you realise, you think as you sit in Physics next to Jake with your head resting in your palm. Monday was always such a mission to get through, but it didn’t help that you had a particularly late night.

“Tired?” Jake asks, sliding over your favourite bottled coffee. Your eyes light up upon seeing it as you accept it with a slightly enthusiastic nod.

“Extremely, staying up watching ‘Criminal Minds' is not a good idea,” You advise before taking a happy swig of the coffee.

Jake laughs, “Thanks for the warning. You’re coming to the game, by the way.”

You roll your eyes, “Is that why you got me a drink?”

Jake hums, “Why else would I do something nice for you?”

You scowl and hand him the coffee back, only for it to be slided back towards you with a disgusted expression on his, “I don’t want it! You already put your mouth on it.”

You sigh, and put it back in your bag, “Asshole.”

“Idiot,” He remarks.

You flick your eyes up and notice the teacher handing out the test papers from the last lesson, “We’ll see who the idiot is.”

The teacher places both yours and Jake's papers down with a smile.

You read the 97 on your paper, tilting it nervously to reveal to him as you wait for his mark.

“96,” He huffs, setting the paper down with a disappointed frown.

You clap your hands together with a wide grin, “I knew it! Sim Jaeyun, you fell off!”

You tease him consistently, singing celebrations in his ear as he places the paper in his bag, smiling at the 98 written on his sheet that he would much rather keep hidden for the sake of you singing gleefully beside him.

Jake swears he’s never seen you so happy; it's almost impossible to keep his smile under control as he watches you in slight fear that the adoration he has for you is emanating more than he would like.

୨ৎ

Your exciting plans to nap immediately after school were destroyed when you heard knocks on the door at exactly four minutes to five pm.

You answer softly, “Come in.”

Expecting one of your parents to walk in, you don’t bother to try and fix your hair or anything so when Jake walks in, you hurry to cover your snoopy pyjamas with your blanket, but judging by the way he snickers, you can tell he’s already seen it.

Jake stands in front of your wardrobe, “Say, Michael B Jordan came into your room and opened your wardrobe. Would there be anything you’d be too shy to show him?”

“No,” You reply, confused. Jake swinging your wardrobe doors open and grabbing a sweater before throwing it at you and walking out of the room was the last thing you had expected. Not to mention that he compared himself to Michael B Jordan, as if you’d care if he had seen your undergarments. Jake, however…

“Ten minutes!” He calls out before closing the door.

You sit in disbelief for a few moments before complying with his demands.

A few moments later, you walk out of the room and hear Jake and your father watching the football game.

“You’re here watching the game when you’re about to play anyway…” You stare at the two, dumfounded.

Jake tilts his head up at you as he gets up, “The game’s too good. Let’s go!”

He says goodbye to your parents and walks you to his car, “We’re kind of early, so you wanna eat something or eat after the game?”

“After the game?” You repeat slowly.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to run home as soon as the game begins,” Jake runs a hand through his hair.

You stifle a laugh, “I doubt I'd make it before half time.”

Jake laughs, “Alright, let's get going.”

Along the way, Jake plays some songs and you can't help but enjoy the atmosphere. Jake glances her eyes towards you from time to time, fighting the smile that creeps his way onto his face in response to yours.

He can't help but think of how beautiful you look, when you’re not even doing anything remotely significant.

“We’re here,” You say.

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Jake rolls his eyes and gets out of the car. As soon as you open the car door, he pushes you back inside and shuts it. You furrow your eyebrows at him standing by the passenger door.

Jake swiftly opens the car door for you, looking around as you leave the car although it's a struggle to move after a zoo of butterflies started swarming in your stomach from his actions.

“Thanks,” You rub at the nape of your neck as he mutters an ‘its alright’ to you.

The pair of you make your way across the football pitch, Jake greets people as he walks past them while you dodge dirty stares from jealous students. It almost makes you want to laugh; if only they knew how it really was.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure if you knew either now that you thought about it.

Brushing your thoughts away, you sat down on one of the benches, “I’ll watch from here.”

Jake nods and slings his bag to put next to you, “You’ll watch this, right?”

“Yes,” You huff. “Anything else, kind sir?”

Jake throws his head back as he laughs, “No, madam.”

Before you can look away, Jake removes his top and replaces it with a football jersey. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help it - his abs were literally staring at you in plain sight, so you had to look back at them.

Of course, he notices you staring and tuts, “Didn’t strike me as a pervert, Y/n.”

You gasp, stammering, “You.. You didn't even warn me!”

“Relax, angel. I don’t mind,” He jogs backwards, sending you a few winks before printing off to the rest of his football members.

Just before the game starts, Minji and Jieun run over and join you, already screaming the names of whichever boy they were infatuated with at that current time.

The game proves to be far more interesting as expected and you end up not regretting letting yourself be dragged out of bed by Jake.

You watch intently as Jake dribbles the ball and shoots it directly in the goal. Your adrenaline must have taken over you, since the next thing you know, you’re jumping up and cheering. In the midst of Jake’s celebration around the pitch, he looks over at you with the widest smile he’s ever fathomed. Jieun and Minji share smirks from the side.

By half time, he separates from the rest of his team and runs directly to you.

You hand him a water bottle as he sits beside you, sweat droplets making his skin glow an extra bit.

“I didn’t expect you to cheer for me,” Jake says, smugly.

“I didn’t cheer for you. I cheered for the team,” You correct.

“I didn’t see you get up and cheer like that when Sunghoon scored,” Jake mutters under his breath.

You dart your eyes at him, “You’re lucky I didn’t hear that.”

Jake sits beside you, regaining his strength in the fifteen minute break while you look around at the other members, eyes fixated on one familiar member.

“Oh shit,” You turn around to Jieun and Minji, whose eyes follow your previous gaze and soon replicate your own shocked expression. Jake turns to the three of you, attempting to eavesdrop.

“Is that-”

“Don’t say the name,” You gesture to Jake sitting beside you.

“Woah, woah,” Jake stands up. “Whose name?”

“None of your business,” You snap. “Shouldn’t you go and, like, discuss team plays?”

Jake shakes his head, “Nah, this isn’t a serious game. It’s just a friendly. Who’s the guy?”

Jake nods his head at the guy you were looking at, fury slowly bubbling in his insides.

“He's a relative,” You lie.

“Bullshit,” Jake huffs. “I’ll find out after the game, anyway.”

The guy was Lee Minseok, and he was your first kiss at a party several months earlier. Being a kiss at a party, you don’t even remember it but your friends had informed you of it. He, too, had wanted to reconnect by messaging you on each and every one of your social media accounts for weeks after despite you saying you weren't looking for anything. You’d felt bad, but it was better to leave it as a drunken mistake than leading him on completely. It had also been a shame that he was your first ever kiss, but you were glad you didn’t remember it.

You look at Jieun and Minji again before sitting back down next to Jake, who doesn’t say another word. After a few minutes, he walks off to his members without saying anything. You feel slightly disappointed that he didn’t say one of his flirty remarks, but you don’t pay too much mind.

You continue watching the game, silently cheering whenever Jake scores or does anything remotely notable and you notice how his eyes always turn to you upon doing something well, but again, you don’t think much of it.

It’s only when you notice Minseok slytackling Jake, leading to Jake falling on his back. Soft gasps erupt from the crowd, a way of everyone agreeing that it was far too harsh of a movement. Minseok holds his hand out to apologise, only to be rejected by Jake smacking his hand away and pushing him by the shoulders. It becomes a small brawl, Jay and Sunghoon having to pull Jake away and to the changing rooms. You watch Jake strut over to the changing rooms, a look of rage crossed over his face.

The next thirty minutes of the game go by painfully slow; all you wanted was to know if Jake was alright.

Despite Jieun and Minji’s attempts at trying to get you to go home with them, you wait for Jake, just to find out if he's okay.

It gets dark when you spot Jake walking on the other side of the football field and you call him over, “Jake!”

He turns around and looks at you with a slightly bewildered expression, but waits for you nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine,” He mumbles. “Did you ask Minseok if he was, too?”

It was your turn to look at him bewilderedly, “No, I couldn’t care less if he was injured.”

Jake’s lips almost curl into a smile. Almost, if he didn’t hear Sunghoons words replaying in his head. Minseok was your first kiss - he stole your first kiss. The feeling of rage bubbled in Jake’s insides again.

“Anyway, I waited because you promised to get me food,” You grin.

Jake looks away, “I can’t. Dad needs help at home.”

“Oh,” You whisper. “Okay, but you owe me another day.”

Jake nods in agreement, and you wait for that familiar smile to return on his face, but it doesn’t.

“I’m going to get going,” You say.

Again, you wait for him to say something, like offer to drop you off home. But, nothing.

You feel like a fool as you walk away from him, his figure growing smaller and smaller behind you with every step.

The next few days are all similar, there are times where you expect Jake to say something to you around the halls or in Physics, but he doesn’t. You don’t even see him around the house anymore, despite his family being there and them saying that he was busy catching up with schoolwork. That was definitely a lie, you knew him.

Mr Sim calls you to sit with them, smiling at you politely.

“Thank you for tutoring Jaeyun. His grades slipped a bit in Australia but, thanks to you, they’re back to normal,” He grins. “I hope there’s no hard feelings, though.”

“Of course, not. Why would there be?” You return his politeness.

Mr Sim sighs in ease, “Oh, I thought you would be since Jaeyun got 98 on the recent test. Although, it was only a marks difference. You’re seriously wonderful-”

The rest of his words tune out, the only thing you hear is that Jake got higher than you in the test but he lied. Why did he lie?

୨ৎ

Deciding to head over to his house with the lie that you needed to give him some school work was merely impulsive, it was far too late when you realised at his doorstep. You’d spent the last few days laying in the darkness of your room, wondering why he has suddenly switched off his typically playful manner to a foreign, nonchalant version of himself. You even cried to Jieun and Minji about it, who cursed him repeatedly.

Jake opens the door in Spongebob pyjamas to which you cock an eyebrow at, “And you called mine childish.”

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, helping you into his house. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

You shake your head and he leans on the wall in front of you as you take a seat.

“So,” Jake stares at you. “What are you doing here?”

You take a long and slow breath, “Why did you lie about your mark in the recent exam?”

Jake steps forward slightly, “How did you-”

You shake your head, “It doesn’t matter. Why did you lie?”

Jake exhales, “I knew it would make you happy.”

You scoff, getting to your feet, “Why on earth do you care if I’m happy?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jake grits his teeth.

“You hate me. You’ve been avoiding me for days, now,” You breathe out.

Jake stares at you blankly, before breaking out into a fit of laughter, “Hate you?”

He inches closer to you until hes standing directly in front of you, “Y/n, I came back here for you.”

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle. “You came back because our parents-”

“No,” Jake interjects. “You think I didn’t beg my father to take that deal? You think my dad doesn’t know how in love with you I am? Y/n, everyone knows but you!”

You shake your head, “This isn’t true.”

“Look, if you don’t like me back, just say so. But, don’t come here and start spewing nonsense. I’ve liked you since that day that we won the Science Fair together. I’ve been in love with you since I left for Australia.”

You look up at him, “No way.”

Jake rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you to his bedroom. He sits you down in his bed while he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a large box.

Jake removes the lid and brings out multiple items that you recognise and some that you don’t.

“This is my Y/n box,” he places it onto your lap. “Have a look.”

Jake holds a few items in his hand, “This is the bracelet I won at a Physics competition in Australia at the beginning. I planned to give it to you. This is a teddy I won at some amusement park. And, this is a letter I wrote on the plane when I realised that I was in love with you. Well, am in love with you.”

Jake continues, “Even my grades, Y/n. They were nothing without you. It’s like you were my only source of motivation, my grades were average towards the end of the year in Australia. My parents and my teachers all blamed it on the move, but I knew. I knew it was because you weren’t there.”

You’re speechless, he kept everything remotely linked to you since you were thirteen. He thought of you in every little thing he did.

“You love me?” You question.

“Yes, Y/n. I’ve been in love with you.”

“But,” You breathe out. “I’m hard to love.”

Your voice is strained, and isn’t far from a whisper. There’s so many things you want to say yet so little words to conform them to the perfect boy sitting in front of you.

He almost guffaws at your words - Jake might have if he didn’t realise just how serious you were. He didn’t understand; what on earth was so hard about loving you? There was nothing.

If only you could see just how effortless it had been, straight from the beginning. The minute he laid eyes on you standing by a handmade rocket, scribbling ideas down on a piece of paper, it was as if the atoms in the universe had created an inseparable bond that tied you two together. It was as if the poles in the universe had drawn together, creating a magnetic field of attraction.

Jake’s eyes twinkle as he leans closer to you, “There is nothing hard about loving you. Loving you is like breathing out oxygen, so if loving you is hard then breathing is, too.”

You flick your eyes up at him again, now only centimetres away from those pink plush lips of his until you close the gap, pulling him into a soft kiss.

“I love you, too, “ You breathe out.

“Really?” Jake gasps. “You’re not just saying that?”

You shake your head, intertwining your fingers, “No, seriously. I do, I didn’t know I did but now.. Now, I know. I came here because you were avoiding me the whole week and I couldn’t bear it.”

Jake giggles, “That’s because I didn’t think you liked me back after that whole situation with Minseok at the football game. I thought it would be better to just leave you alone.”

Jake gently intertwines his fingers with you, a casual action albeit causing your heart to race a million miles per hour.

“So,” he beams, “if you get higher than me in the next Physics exam, I’ll take you out on a date.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, a grin paired on your lips, “And, what if I don’t?”

Jake looks away, thinking for a moment, “Then, you take me on a date.”

“Well, can I give you a kiss first?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him as if he’s ever going to decline that offer

“You don’t need to ask twice,” Jake breathes out, before meeting your lips with a wide grin plastered on his face.

୨ৎ

Seeing Jake knock on your window from outside your house was quite a shock for you, being it was a Sunday evening and you were sorting out your school bag for the next day.

You open your window to let him in with a befuddled expression worn on your face, “What are you doing here? It’s almost 6:30.”

A soft smile is on his lips as he looks at you, and climbs through your window, “I had to see you. Its been so long.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, “I saw you on Friday.”

“That’s far too long, angel.”

You smile as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm embrace, he hums as he closes his eyes and rocks your body with his from side to side.

“Why didn’t you use the front door?” You ask him.

Jake nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I’m scared of your father.”

You laugh at his words, “You’ve known the man for years! What’s there to be afraid of?”

He sits down on your bed, playing with your teddy bears, “Well, he’s different with me now that I’m.. dating his daughter.”

“He’s a bit shocked but he’ll get used to it. You can’t expect him to like you if he finds out you’ve been sneaking in through my window, though,” You pinch Jake’s cheek softly.

Jake nods, “I know.” Jake sighs and leans into your touch against his cheek.

“Why don’t you try going back through the front door? You can ask my parents for permission to grab dinner outside, today,” You suggest, pulling his hands up.

You watch Jake’s eyes glint in excitement as he heads back out of the window. Yet, he doesn’t forget to turn around to press a quick kiss on your cheek before he leaves, only to return to be in your house in less than a minute.

Hearing the doorbell ring, you make your way downstairs while fighting the urge to grin upon knowing exactly who was at your door.

You watch your father open the door, seeing Jake, “Hi Jake, what brings you here?”

Jake stammers, “Hello, sir. I mean, Mr Lee… I came to see Y/n.”

You stand beside your father, “Dad, you haven’t even let him in.”

Pulling Jake inside, you frown at your Dad as your Mum joins the three of you.

“Honey, why are you so awkward around Jaeyun now? Weren’t you the one who always wanted him as a son?” Your mum chuckles.

“I didn’t think he would become a son like.. this,” Your dad darts his eyes towards you and Jake. “So, is the relationship going well?”

You struggle to not break out into a fit of laughter, “Yes, Dad. Thanks for your concern. Jake and I are going to get some ice cream.”

Your Mum nods happily while your father sighs and sits back. Jake bows his head politely and leaves with you.

“I hate the awkwardness,” Jake whines and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with his.

“He’ll get used to it!” You boop Jake’s nose sweetly.

Walking alongside Jake with your fingers wrapped tightly in his own, the crisp autumn air hitting against your cheeks and the streetlights illuminating the sky; you can’t help but feel a sense of longing towards the moment. It just felt right.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jake breaks the silence, tilting his head towards you. “Actually.. No, no. You’re going to make fun of me.”

Jake hides his face in his hoodie, but you can still see the redness in his cheeks.

“What?” You laugh, prying his face out of his hoodie. “Tell me!”

Jake sighs, “I used to think we were alike but I don’t think we are. So, I guess we’re kinda like magnets.”

“You’ve called me a lot of things, Sim Jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

Jake sighs with a smile on his face, “Not like that! I just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. Kinda like a magnet, but they work out fine. If anything, there’s literal forces of attraction pulling them together. Isn’t that so cool?”

You chortle, “Yes, Jake. That’s very cool. I love being your magnet.”

Jake presses a kiss to your lips, “Stop making fun of me.”

“Stop being a nerd,” You retort.

“Says the one who got 100% in the last quiz!”“Don’t be jealous, Sim. You’ll get on my level someday.”

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' husband Gojo - The Aftermath- 02

Tags- smut, angst, cheating, TW seizures, bad mental health of reader

Synopsis- The events of the fateful night of Christmas...

The Aftermath- 01 // series masterlist

24th December, 2016

"Hey y/n! Wanna get some drinks on Christmas? If you don't have any plans! Or are you too busy for us 'poor people'! Haha!". Your friends have called and they joked.

You come from a very lower middle class family. Raised by your grandmother and elder sister(by six years) due to your parents being absent.

It was difficult, you grew up watching your grandmother working at an age where she should be enjoying life and your sister when she should be studying. You grew up knowing what's it like to have nothing.

With a decent education, you and your sister started supporting your grandmother with a decent corporate job until your sister got married to her co-worker.

It was just you, helping financially your grandmother with her medical bills while saving up enough for a decent enough wedding dress to follow your sister's path, where you marry an average man like she did, have kids, take care of your children and man and thats it.

An average life.

But you wanted more.

You prayed. Day and night for an extraordinary life, a life memorable and not like your sister's.

You wanted more from life.

And the Gods heard your prayer.

Your whole life changed when you became an essential part of Japan's prolific Aristocratic family.

The news was everywhere. Its a rags to riches, The modern Cinderella story in everyone's eyes.

It was beautiful.

It was memorable, everything you wanted..

Until it wasn't...

"Uh.. yes i am free.", it felt so different, talking to people you worked with after so long. "What's the timing?", you asked.

"25th, 7pm! At the usual place. Also y/n! Could you maybe bring your husband! I mean we would all love to meet Mr Gojo! He's so funny! Only if Mr Gojo is free that is!"

Ah yes. Mr Gojo, the funny, entertaining Mr Gojo. He has met your friends from work enough times to make an image of the grounded but arrogant, funny rich guy.

"Oh! He-he isn't home. He's quite busy. Maybe next time, i will bring him!", you managed as if there will be a next time!

"Oh(disappointed) , nevermind then. Send my regards to Mr Gojo. And you do not forget to come y/n!"

"Yeah".

You wanted to go out, outside and away from this house of memories, with Satoru, that trapped you. You wanted to breath fresh air and move on.

Move on?

How could you move on?

The fact that you were 3 months in your pregnancy after 4 years of marriage. But you failed to carry the child. You failed to maintain the marriage with the person you love. And you're talking about moving on when its just 2 months?

How cruel y/n, how cruel...

25th December, 2016 || 6.45pm

You got dressed up in a simple black turtleneck, jeans, an overcoat and knee high boots with a woolen cap on.

A thick layer of concealer was enough to hide the under eye dark circles. You put on a red lipstick and went out.

The staff stared at you, secretly though, but nonetheless they stared and judged you.

'Is Lady y/n really pregnant?' One said. "She doesn't have a bump though", other quoted. "Come to think of it, her monthly(period) hasn't arrived either. She is pregnant!".

"When's she going to announce?" One servant asked. "Maybe after Lord Satoru arrives?". "Oh! Maybe on the New Year's eve! Seems perfect timing as well.", one replied.

The servants maybe nosy but they know their places. They know, something so sensitive as the pregnancy of the great six eyes sorcerer's wife, its not their place to give the news to the family.

Generally, almost every household's staffs know about anything and everything that goes on in Gojo household. But the word, luckily, doesn't reaches to their employers most of the time.

But this time, it wasn't just some other light news from the Gojo House and the servants of other households started talking to their employers in no time...

It was already past 11.30pm.

Reunion with your office friends and straight up five bottles of your favorite vodka felt so nice that you almost forgot about all and everything that had gone wrong in your life.

You meet up with your co-workers every Christmas for the last 4 years. Sometimes Satoru would company, sometimes he wouldn't.

Talking about politics, sports and who's dating who, both in the office and among celebrities. These were mostly the topics you spent discussing while drinking.

"Hey, its almost going to be 12. I think that's it for the night guys!", one of your girlfriends announced after a slight glance at her silver wrist watch.

"Whaaat?", your speech was slurred and vision blurry after five drinks. "Isss overrr already? Whyyyy? Less get the party started.."

Everyone chuckled. "Ah y/n san had too much to drink! Now we'd have to drop her at her royal palace!", the other girlfriend smiled, a little jealous of your luxurious life.

"Whaaaaat? Less playyy! C'mon ya lot!", you continued babbling frustrated.

"I'll drop y/n. If its okay with everyone."

Out of all the twelve co-workers, one of them stood up and offered to help you reach home.

He knew none are interested in insuring you reach home safely. Everybody was just ignorant and busy to get back home to be on time for work.

He, Kenzo, always have had feelings for you. From the moment you entered the Office to present, when you're married and babbling gibberish while totally drunk.

Everyone agreed to leave you to Kenzo since it was no secret, the feelings he has and someone like him would definitely make sure you reach home safe and secure.

26th December, 2016 || 12.26 am

The group gave their farewells to each other and went on their way.

You, on the other hand, are so drunk that its impossible for you stand up without your legs wobbling and bringing you down.

Kenzo helped you and got you on the passenger seat of his car and started driving towards your 'palace'.

Your head felt heavy with all the drinks you had. You could hear voices in your head, all distorted, words lapsing onto each other.

"You did this y/n!"

"Because of you y/n your baby is dead"

"Satoru will never love you"

"All you've done since marriage is sitting on top of your husband's fortune... living the life you never had"

"Satoru's family....They were right...Everyone was right.."

"You are just a whore"

"Whore for money"

"WHORE"

You let out a scream and started twisting and turning your head and hands to stop all this annoying gibberish in your head. Your eyes closed tight shut.

Kenzo, while driving through almost an empty road, saw this and was absolutely horrified. He thought you're having seizures so he stopped his car in an empty underground parking lot that was luckily near when he saw you.

"Y/n! Y/n! Are you okay?". He grabbed your cheeks to hold you still while his other hand held forcefully onto your shaking arms. "Talk to me y/n. Talk to me!"

"Talk to me y/n"

You heard.

"Talk"

You opened your eyes, slowly letting in the artificial bright lights hit your eyes. Lips trembling. Cheeks red, tears rolling.

You felt a grasp on your cheeks and lowered your gaze to see Kenzo, worried and sweating.

You let out a sigh and without any thoughts hugged Kenzo.

He didn't know what just happened but if hugging him makes you feel better, he's okay with it. He hugged you back. Caressing your back.

All the thoughts had stopped now in your head.

You calmly pulled away from the hug and locked your eyes with Kenzo's.

He is so handsome, same age as you, has beautiful hooded eyes, his nose, his lips.

You gently brought your lips closer to his and he to yours. You both so close but so far. You wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss you.

Your lips brushed upon his and he kissed you. You put your tongue in his mouth and fought for dominance. After a few pants for air, you won, a battle you never won with your husband.

Kenzo pulled back though halfway through. You were puzzled. Didn't he want you? But then you saw him looking at your big blue and white diamond wedding ring.

Oh so thats what it is.

You quickly removed the two rings from your left hand and put the expensive rings onto dashboard. One ring being your wedding band and the other ring was an official platinum-diamond band symbolizing that you are the Gojo Clan head's wife.

In a rush you jumped sat on his lap. Fixating yourself just above his crotch, continuously rubbing your clothed groin over his. You both panted.

You unbuckled your jeans and threw them in the backseat and unzipped Kenzo's pants, about to slide in his member in you. You were so in heat he could see right through you if he'd have to be honest.

He held your wrists and stopped you from doing it...

"Y/n, we shouldn't... its not right... you're married-", he protested with his voice low.

"I decide whats right or not... so shut up and do it already", you growled at him in frustration and just put his cock in your unprepared cunt.

You were finally tainted wholly...

It hurt a lot in the beginning, doing the deed all dry, without any foreplay after so long and after your miscarriage but slowly your body adjusted.

'God! he's so small', you thought to yourself while pushing in Kenzo's 5 inches hard cock in you since for the last over 7 years you've gotten used to Gojo's 8 inches.

This lowly act of yours went on for around 2 hours. Doing it anywhere and everywhere inside the car, in all and every position.

26th December, 2016 || 4.50am

The radio was playing 'Lovely Day' by Bill Withers.

Kenzo was driving you to your house.

You were quiet. He was quiet.

The drive to your uphill estate was easy since it was early morning so the streets were traffic free. He drove his car through the beautiful posh Uphills neighborhood of Tokyo. Your house was almost there.

Each house in this posh area are mindfully distanced to provide full privacy and personal space to the owners. That is why Satoru bought his married house here.

You were looking outside the window with a cigarette between your lips and suddenly your heart skipped a beat, eyes widened, forehead sweating when you saw your husband's black Audi sedan parked in the driveway...

You gulped when the car stopped outside the Gojo Estate's premises.

Door opened, left foot out and you got out. Before entering the gates of your premises, you leaned down a little to look at an equally annoyed Kenzo.

You both didn't share any words or any final looks and he just drove his car as soon as you got off.

He knew what he had done was crossing the line and beyond. It was so unethical to sleep with a married woman, doesn't matter if you were his crush once or not.

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Well technically y/n you are separated and will be divorced soon. So its not cheating. Technically?" Your head convinced you in case when you'd be caught you'll have an argument ready.

You started walking through the cobblestone walkway, a little nervous... Actually, truth be told, you are scared of seeing Satoru. Finding you in your current state at this late hour.

You took one last big puff and then crushed the cigarette with your boots.

You rang the bell once, twice. You started thinking maybe its not Satoru but its Mr Ijichi. Yeah! He's busy anyway.

The door opened just as you were about to ring the third time and all your fears came true...

Satoru Gojo opened the door.

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen @sweet-almond @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0peful @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha @dummyf @Noblog @Littledemoness15 @shaiah @iluv-ace @mmeerraa @angellyah @0bakuzan @waxhers @chanelmalandro @shoutobrainrot @angrydaughter @Screw-aebi@asdfghjkl7things @kodzukenwhore @gabile18 @bollockswhy @pelicanpizza @electro-supremacy @Zatannaswifeblog@spam-and-eggs @guenievresworld @b0scuit@aliventboo @marit332 @ieathairs @hells-escapees @no-name222

Aplogies, tags are CLOSED

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness — Dog Walking

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader/Alexis Ness WORD COUNT: 3.2k TYPE: Humor, Bad flirting (it's so bad I don't know if i can call it flirting in good faith), Bad matchmaking (there was an attempt), Rivalry WARNING(S): Canon-typical football derangement, canon-typical behavior EDIT: This got a continuation, yay. And an add-on

Kaiser got it in his head that he has taken a liking to you. This is great and all, not like Ness is gritting his teeth and clenching his fists and getting angry or anything, but- okay, he is.

An obvious reason for his displeasure would be jealousy, but that’s not quite it. Ness thinks it would be entitled and insolent of him to feel any type of way about Kaiser’s personal affairs, so he hasn’t even entertained the notion. The problem is entirely different.

Just like everyone else in Blue Lock, you’re… Kaiser-opposed? Is that the right way to word it? Anyway, the point is, your shitty personality is making his job really hard. Which leads the three of you to this current situation.

“Ow! Ness, what the hell is your problem?!” you shriek, after having tripped and fell. The only reason your face isn’t attached to the floor fight now is because you softened the blow with your elbow.

“I didn’t mean it- I’m so sorry!”

“You didn’t mean it? You literally did it on purpose.”

This isn’t how it should’ve played out, though.

You were supposed to fall right into Kaiser’s arms, but you landed about a step away from him. They even practiced this routine with the others! Granted, no one agreed to it and was rather subjected to it whenever in Ness and Kaiser’s general vicinity, and, no, it didn’t work all the time, but they were just getting the hang of it. (Thankfully, no one sustained any serious injuries, apart from bearing some mental scars after hearing Kaiser say ‘Don’t go falling for me now’ in a wannabe suave tone.)

“Yeah, Ness, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Kaiser adds, before moving to crouch down and help you with a smidge of concern in his expression.

Ness’s eyes widen at the betrayal. Kaiser is such a fake bitch sometimes. Not like he’s going to do anything about it, or even that he minds, but seriously? No shame or decorum is on display here.

You don’t buy it, slapping his hands away. “I bet you put him up to it,” you say, before standing up all by yourself. Then you twist your leg around back and forth for a bit, as if to check how well it’s working, before you eventually lift it high up in the air. “Listen, you tie-dyed toerags.”

Ness flinches because what kind of way to address someone is this? Kaiser crosses his arms, shiteating grin receding into a little frown.

“I’m at my most divine when scoring a goal. You see this?” Your foot is now hovering near their faces while you stretch. This… What is it? A flex? A display? Whatever it is that you’re doing right now, Ness finds it unnerving. “It’s what I use to score. If you did something to take that ability away from me, you’d get pretty bad karma, you know? Angels would cry. Believe me.”

Ness tugs on Kaiser’s sleeve — to remind him he’s supposed to respond instead of just stare at you with a blank, creepy look on his face — and, as filler, says, “You’re very, um, flexible.”

“Yeah,” you say, moving into an even more convoluted position. “I have many attractive qualities. Deserving of being a superstar ace, you know? Dump Kaiser. Pass to me. You’re way too good to play second fiddle, Ness. With me, you won’t be stuck in a Tweedlecum and Tweedlepee dynamic.”

“What?! You- you- you, you, you, yooooou-?! What are you talking about?! I’d never betray him! I’m not joining your circus, clown! Unbelievable! Learn your place already. You never learn,” Ness says in a jumble. For some reason, he’s more offended than Kaiser is.

Here’s the thing about you — you’re insane. A has-an-interesting-psychological-file type of crazy. A hollow-inner-world type of crazy.

A Ness-loves-it type of crazy, as objectionable as he is acting to your offer.

“Calm down. No need to get your panties in a twist over some shitty trash talk,” says Kaiser, placing his hand on Ness’s head, forcing him to lower himself in a slight bow in front of you. Finally, you quit your bizarre movements and assume a more proper stance, while Kaiser leans in closer to you, shifting his gaze in your direction. This leaves Ness to watch you two engage in a round of charged glaring… again. Which is always compromising, but then Kaiser has to run his fingers through his hair, too. “You’re just like a chihuahua that hasn’t warmed up to its owner yet. Your barking doesn’t faze me.”

Your eye twitches at the analogy, face scrunching in an ugly way. “The hell did you just say to me? If I catch you somewhere Ego can’t see me, I’ll give you the beating of a lifetime.”

Instead of responding in a normal way, Kaiser points his finger in your face, almost poking you, twirls it around in a circle, which makes you furrow your brows even harder if possible as you scrutinize him like he’s a lower life form.

“See? Doesn’t bite. Totally harmless,” Kaiser says with a lilt of amusement. Then he swings an arm around Ness’s shoulders and turns him around before pulling him along so they can get away from you.

His tone is convincing enough to give off the impression of winning this verbal spat. However, Ness can’t help but notice that they’re speed walking.

___

When Ness turns around, you’re leaning on the bench with your foot, elbow resting on your knee. He lets out an undignified scream, taking a step back, startled, and even drops his water bottle. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! How come you didn’t make a noise? What are you?”

Kaiser regards the commotion with not even a sliver of curiosity and instead grins after nodding at you in greeting. “Look who came crawling back searching for my company, Ness.”

“I was thinking about that stuff you told me yesterday,” you say.

“Really? And what thrilling conclusion did you come to?” he asks, with sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘thrilling.’

“I’m going to spend my points from goals on taking a day off. Come along with me and we’re gonna fight, preferably in front of a big audience that can watch me humiliate you. By the way, it's a duel, so you can’t decline.”

“Wow, you’re asking me out on a date? Since when are you so adorable? I guess I just can’t reject you when you’re being vulnerable.”

“No one likes delusional men, Kaiser. I’d rather embalm myself and then desecrate my own corpse.”

Kaiser appears to find this amusing or in some way adjacent to flirting because his smile becomes a touch more irritating, but also a bit incredulous. “Crazy fucking bastard. You’ve got unique ways of pretending you’re not into me, though. It’s entertaining.”

“Your mouth is like a dirty urinal. You swear like a preteen who just found out what sixty-nine means, worry about that.”

Kaiser stares at you in shock, jaw hanging slightly open. In your head, you consider this a huge win, since it’s the first time you’ve visibly put him off.

“Keep gaping at me, I might just take a piss.”

“H-How dare you?!” Ness lunges at you, and the only thing to stop him from strangling you on live television — sensational, you like it — is the fact that Kaiser is holding him back by the collar. You find the sight of him swiping his fists in the air vaguely adorable. “How can you say these things? Just in general, let alone to Kaiser?”

You observe him in mild surprise for a second and the sincerity in your expression makes it all the more infuriating when you ask, “Oh, you’re still here?”

___

For once in his life, Ness is being very assertive. At least that’s what you think while he drags you over to their side of the cafeteria, fingers curling tight enough around your wrist to probably disturb your blood circulation.

Kaiser pulls out a chair for you when you come into view, then Ness shoves you so you’re sitting, and Kaiser pushes it back in, causing you to almost double over the table. Ness slides over some kind of fancy meal you can’t even identify in front of you. Kaiser leans down, his hair brushing against you, and then he reaches around your shoulder to aggressively stab one of the slices with a fork. With a perhaps demented smile, he declares, “We’re going to talk about strategy today,” before taking the seat next to yours.

“We’re not going to talk about strategy because I’m not one of your groupies,” you say, picking up on the conversation with ease.

Ness plops down on your other side, apparently having decided he has enough authority to lecture you. “No, no, no! This isn’t working. Isagi does whatever he wants, Kunigami does whatever he wants, you do whatever you want. It’s pure chaos on the field! No synergy! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Join us. If you’re not following,” Kaiser adds, his arm finally receding away from you, “this is a compliment. You’re the one best suited for me, which is a big honor.”

“I have a way better idea. How about I continue doing whatever I want, and by the end of this Neo Egotist League ordeal, you two and everyone else you mentioned sing my name in a choir?”

“Ungrateful,” Ness mutters, petulant.

Kaiser grins, mocking, but also intrigued. “Are you still hanging onto the high of that goal against Barcha? Your ego is unhinged and, honestly, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your type is always the most fun to break.”

Like he’s any different?

The score you landed, though — the one Kaiser is referencing — was what sparked his interest. You jumped in and stole the pass Isagi meant for Kunigami, securing the point right under their noses. Then, you faced Kaiser and took him by the chin like he’d done to Isagi on arrival, and even imitated his introduction, “On your knees, Bastard München,” with inconceivable amounts of smugness.

It was… interesting. Outlandish. A first. Ness berated you and Isagi together, but you kind of walked away in the middle of it without a care.

Here’s the other detail which is keeping Ness’s sanity intact (not like he’s renowned for his mental stability, but): Kaiser taking a liking to you isn’t necessarily a good thing, even if he’s treating you differently than the other competitors. It doesn’t say anything positive about your character, isn’t in any way sentimental — it’s more as if someone held up a mirror in front of him and he began obsessing over his reflection.

“I’m big and you’re small. That’s why you can’t tame me,” you say.

“He’s taller than you!” Ness defends.

“Did the voices in your head tell you that?” Kaiser asks you, and he does not acknowledge Ness’s meager attempt to upkeep his honor.

“I mean it. You think you can brute force everything and bend it to your version of reality. That’s fragile. I don’t mind falling from a high place. It kind of appeals to me, actually, you know, crawling back up, but more beautiful.”

The corners of his lips turn up in a manner you interpret as more baleful than usual. “I don’t know if you’re big or if I’m small or whatever you wanna call it, but what I know for sure is that you’re a melodramatic jerk off.”

“Anyway,” you stand up, taking the plate as you do so, “you don’t think often, so I won’t blame you for calling my internal monologue a hallucination. You can’t help it. Bye.”

___

The locker room is an environment you find ripe for picking fights in. Especially when everyone is tired after a practice match. At least the place is free of anyone besides your usual targets.

“Ness,” you say upon approaching them — they’re always together, it almost seems codependent — and then take a hold of his hand, all beguiling. Kaiser scoffs, apparently not interested in getting into it with you this once, while Ness stares at you doe-eyed. “I think it’s about time you get some dignity.”

“What kind of opening line is that?!” he asks, expression shifting from bashful to irritated.

“He’s just been even more awful to you lately and you’re still attached to his asshole like you’re a part of the human centipede.”

“You made fun of me for swearing, but look at the shit you’re saying right now.”

“I do it sparingly and with style. Please stop trying to compete where you don’t compare.” After a dismissive glance towards Kaiser, you turn your attention back to Ness, letting go of his hand to wrap an arm around his waist. “Anyway, the point is, he’s not acting very appreciative of your talent. I could treat you so much better if you passed to me. We don’t even need to entirely exclude him or anything, I’m a tolerant person.”

“I can see and appreciate Ness’s talent just fine. He’ll stay by my side no matter what.” Ness blushes because that’s kind of an intense statement to make out of nowhere? Kaiser’s fingers curl around his jawline before he pushes Ness’s head into his shoulder. “And I’m going to add you to the roster while I’m at it.”

What the fuck is even going on? Maybe the delusions of grandeur you and Kaiser seem to suffer from are becoming contagious, but it sounds like you two are fighting… over HIM? A more well-adjusted person would probably find this objectifying or otherwise demeaning, but Ness, mostly because of who he is — terminally unwanted — wonders if he’s in heaven right now.

Then again, Ness isn’t an idiot. His ignorance is willful. There’s a cap to the nonsense even he is willing to tolerate. So he lets this feeling of I’ve-never-been-happier linger for a little, your bickering fading into background noise, before he squirms away from both of you.

“I’m tired of how you guys are acting,” he calls over his shoulder.

Kaiser is gawking again. You let out an amused whistle, as if you find this development pleasing, before forcing Kaiser’s jaw closed.

“Don’t talk to me… for the rest of the day,” Ness continues, before leaving. His resolve ends on a weak note, but oh well.

“What the hell? Did Ness just reject me?” Kaiser asks, slapping off your pesky hand. “First you don’t want me, now even Ness doesn’t want me. I’m sick of this wretched place. Everything is all out of whack here.”

You burst out laughing. “Are your sensitive little feelings unable to handle a few hours without him?”

“Shut up,” says Kaiser. There isn’t enough bite in it.

“I can tell whatever tantrum you’re about to have is gonna give me secondhand embarrassment, so I’m gonna go as well.”

You’re not prepared for Kaiser to slam you into the locker and cage you in with his arms. Some vein you don’t know the name of looks very pronounced on his forehead, and you don’t think it’s supposed to be doing that?

You roll your eyes. “Take the hint, your machismo shtick isn’t doing it for me.”

“I’m not trying to make a move on you, shithead. I’m sick of your outrageous attitude as well. What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re always leaving in the middle of conversations, even ones you initiated. Do you know how rude that is? No one ever taught you some fucking manners? What’s your home life like?”

Ignoring whatever he’s even talking about — it’s going in one ear and out of the other as usual — you trail your hands over his shoulders.

“Stop trying to distract me. I’m listing out all of your personality defects.” He’s not really putting up a fight, though, doesn’t even shrug you off when you move onto caressing his neck. “We’re arguing,” Kaiser says, before leaning in to complete the kiss you were trying to pull him into, and finally his hands drop to rest on your waist.

The contact doesn’t last long, since you take the chance to side step him and swap your positions, before you push him into the locker like he’d done to you.

“Little bitch,” you say with a sneer, and then you dash towards the exit, offering a flippant wave. “I leave whenever I want to.”

What the hell!

___

“You’re unforgivable!” says Ness. What did you even do to deserve this attitude right before breakfast? “Stop messing with Kaiser’s head!”

Oh yeah, you did do that. You almost forgot.

“Good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”

Ness crosses his arms and taps his foot. He’s not very good at being intimidating, at least in a visual sense, you think. He has a total babyface. “You’re going to apologize. You’re gonna grovel for Kaiser’s forgiveness.”

“Sure, I take hurt feelings very seriously. Answer these questions for me, so I can apologize better later. Which ear were the words of hurtfulness spoken into? Is the damage he suffered permanent? Did he require a tissue for his tears?”

“I- I- I- I?!?! You piss me off so much. I don’t have the patience for this.” Ness pinches the bridge of his nose as if he needs to soothe himself after exchanging a couple of sentences with you.

“If he doesn’t have a mommy to hug him,” you continue without much of an inflection, “we can look for a surrogate.”

With uncharacteristic vice, he squeezes your shoulders, and he’s gritting his teeth, and you think he really might kill you. Maybe not right now, but at some point, this man is going to take your life. “What’s your problem? You’re a nobody, so why are you so high maintenance? Kaiser is rich, handsome, successful, and a football genius. What more could you possibly want in a boyfriend?”

“Wow,” you say, astonishment at something indeterminate apparent on your face.

Ness waits for you to elaborate, but you don’t, instead opting to scrutinize him in silence. “What? Don’t just say wow and then leave it at that. How can someone be so difficult?”

Your expression shifts into something meaner, then, a mocking raise of your eyebrows, a lop-sided but meaningless smile. “It’s just kind of amazing. You can’t help but ride Kaiser’s dick even while trying to guide it inside of me.”

“Wh-huh… What?!” Ness screeches, scandalized. “How… How crude? You're a vulgar moron! Totally indecent! That’s what you are!”

“I mean, can you blame me for being jealous of that kind of attention? You can do crazy tricks on it.”

“Why are you saying those kinds of things to me?! S-Something’s not right with you.”

You reach out and squish Ness’s cheeks together, leaving his lips to pucker, and you can feel his skin burning. “You’re an amusing guy, Ness. I haven’t decided if I find you pathetic or endearing yet, but I like it.” Then you let go of him as casually as you grabbed him, intending to continue on your merry way.

There are footsteps hurrying after you. “Admit your love to Kaiser already.”

Love? A frightening laugh rattles you. Your body jerks upright and you feel like an evil spirit was just exorcised out of you with how unexpected your reaction was, even to you.

“I know you can’t resist his charms. No one can.”

Kaiser’s… charms? You knew it, he’s trying to kill you.

“And- and- and!!! You’re going to play on our side against Ubers, and you’re going to like it.”

You’re borderline in hysterics now, stomach hurting.

“Stop walking away from me! Are you even listening? You should really listen when people talk to you!”

___

Im still loopy so presented without comment. Feel free to tell me wat you thikn the worst line from this abomination is

[rxmqnova]

Lizzie & sister

R is a YouTube er who does pranks. R's new target (by popular demand) is her famous big sister.

- maybe the feather and shaving foam prank. - fake phone calls - fills car full of balloons?

Stuff like that maybe ? ...... THANKS 👍

SURPRISING MY SISTER WITH A BRAND NEW ROOM

NO ONE'S POV "Hey, guys, it's Y/N and welcome back to my YouTube channel" Y/N smiles, greeting all of her subscribers.

"For this week's video… I decided to… pull out a few pranks on my sister Lizzie" She announces, making a mental note to add an applause later.

"You, guys, wanted Lizzie to be in my videos, so I thought that this would be a great opportunity. She won't be really happy about it, but what wouldn't I do for you, guys" Y/N sighs, adding a chuckle at the thought of all those pranks she's prepared.

"Alright. Right now I'm at Lizzie's house. She's still at work and will be for a few more hours, so I thought that it would be such a great idea to wrap her entire bedroom in wrapping paper. So let's start with that" She announces, taking the camera and walking upstairs to her sister's bedroom.

She bought tons of red wrapping paper this morning and already brought it to the room, so now she just needs to wrap everything. Oh boy, Lizzie won't be happy…

After filming a few more scenes, she gets to work, wrapping every single item in Lizzie's bedroom into wrapping paper.

It takes hours, but now it's finally done and to be honest, Y/N is actually pretty proud of her work.

"Well, this is the final product. I think it looks quite awesome. What do you think, guys?" Y/N questions, showing the room from every possible angle on camera.

"I mean… Lizzie's definitely going to kill me, but I really like it. It actually looks so cool. Oh boy, she's definitely going to make me clean this up" She sighs with a chuckle, filming a few more scenes before going back downstairs.

She sits on the couch, thinking what could she entertain herself with until Lizzie arrives. She's planned 2 pranks on her sister.

The first one is wrapping Lizzie's entire room in wrapping paper which she only just finished. And the other one is to fill her sister's car with balloons, but that needs to wait until Lizzie arrives home.

"Oh, hi, Y/N/N" Lizzie smiles, stepping into the living room where Y/N still is. "What you're doing here?"

"Well, I thought I'd come to surprise my sister and guess what. She wasn't home" Y/N says, standing up to give her sister a hug.

"I'm happy to see you. I'll just change real quick and be right back, so we can catch up on everything" Lizzie presses a kiss to her little sister's forehead, earning a smile and a nod from her.

Just in the moment when Lizzie starts walking upstairs to the direction of her bedroom, Y/N grabs her camera and follows her sister.

"Oh. My. God. Y/N! What did you do?!" Lizzie says as soon as she opens the door of her bedroom, her voice filled with anger.

"What? You like it? I think it looks good. I thought your room needs a bit of a color, you know. And red really suits you, so you're welcome" Y/N teases, only to receive a death glare from her sister, her head even tilting slightly. "Oh no, the headtilt. If these are the last few seconds of my life, I just want to say that I love you, guys, and-"

"You better clean that up right now, Y/N. I have a few friends coming over in like 3 hours, so you better hurry up" Lizzie states, patting her sister's shoulder before walking out of the room, forgetting why she went here in the first place.

"Alright, I guess I won't get any appreciation for my work, so let's get into cleaning" Y/N sighs, putting the camera on the nightstand and getting into work.

It takes much less time to clean up than it took to make it and Y/N's now carrying tons of wrapping paper to her car.

And then comes the last prank… filling Lizzie's car with balloons. She has some blowed up balloons in the trunk of her car already, so now she needs to blow up the rest and put them into Lizzie's car without her knowing.

And that successfully happens. She places Lizzie's car keys right at the same spot she took them before, flopping on the couch and waiting for the right opportunity.

"I need to head out to buy some drinks. You want anything in the store?" Lizzie questions, taking her car keys.

"I'm good, thanks" Y/N smiles.

"Alright, I'll be back soon" Lizzie announces, walking out of the door and Y/N's quick to follow with her camera in her hand. "Y/N, I swear to god-"

"Surprise!" Y/N cuts her sister off, receiving just a glare from her.

"Y/N, I need to go to the store" Lizzie sighs. "I'm taking your car, this better be cleaned up until I come back. And don't even think about pulling another prank on me" She warns, raising an eyebrow.

"You're no fun" Y/N sighs, taking her car keys out of her pocket and giving them to her sister.

"I love you too"

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

Elizabeth Olsen masterlist

Masterlist

[qmakobin]

Heyy! Just saw your mokoto post.

Can you do the rampage members with s/o who is Shorter than them.

Just Out of Reach

A/N: hi! This is Eribin. I am not a real writer, doing this as my past time. English is not my first language so bear with my English. There’s a lot of grammatical and typographical errors. This is just a fiction from my delusions 😆

Word count: 1k

Genre: rom-com, fluff

CAST: Y/N (fem readers) and Ryutaro Ata

The bell chimed softly as Y/N pushed open the door to her favorite café. The warm aroma of coffee and pastries greeted her, Today is so bright and she felt there's something great gonna happen. Her eyes scanned her usual table by the window, the one with the perfect view of the street outside.

Her heart sank. Someone was sitting there.

There he was. Again.

Ryu.

'What the... Urgh!' She mentally eye-rolled at him. She came near him and crossed her arms.

"Hey, Shortie, Good morning" Ryu called, a smirk spreading across his annoyingly handsome face. Yes, he's handsome but his attitude? Ugly! His tall frame was sprawled comfortably across her table, his dark hair slightly messy as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

Y/N sighed dramatically "Why are you here?"

"To enjoy my coffee in peace," he said, gesturing to his cup. "And to brighten your day, of course."

"It’s my spot," she shot back, marching over and putting her bag down on the table next to his.

He leaned back, his long legs stretching out under the table. "Oh? I didn't see a 'Reserved for Y/N' sign. Did I miss it?" He said, dropping with mock innocence

Her eyes narrowed. "Move." her cheeks are already heating up. Ethan had been her neighbor—and her personal tormentor.. for years. FOR YEARS. At 6'1", he was a full foot taller than her, and he never missed an opportunity to remind her of it.

He didn't budge. Instead, he patted the chair across from him. "Plenty of room for both of us, Shortie."

Y/N groaned but sat down anyway. It wasn't worth the fight, and the other tables were already taken. And beside, she doesn't want to catch attention early this morning.

As she reached for the menu on the counter nearby, Ryu's hand darted out, grabbing it first.

"Looking for this?" he asked, holding it high above his head.

"Ryu!" Y/N hissed, standing up to grab it. But even on her tiptoes, it was just out of reach. She tried to jump but it didn't work.

"You've got to jump higher than that" he teased, his grin widening.

Y/N scowled. "Give it back, or I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Kiss me? Then kiss me Shortie" he added and pouted his lips gesturing to kiss..

Her forehead furrowed with that gesture of Ryu. Without warning, Y/N grabbed the hem of his jacket and yanked him down, catching him off guard. She snatched the menu from his hand and smirked triumphantly.

"Got it" she said, sitting back down.

Ryu blinked, clearly impressed. "Well played, Shortie. Didn't know you had it in you."

Y/N ignored him, flipping through the menu as he leaned his chin on his hand, watching her with a lazy smile.

"Need help picking something? I could order for you. Maybe a kid's hot chocolate?"

"I don't need your help, giant!" she shot back, emphasizing the word.

He chuckled. "Giant, huh? That's new. Kind of like it."

The waitress arrived, and Y/N placed her order with exaggerated politeness, hoping to distract herself from Ryu's amused expression. She ordered her usual, a black coffee and a chocolate croissant.

As they waited for their food, Ryu kept up his relentless teasing.

"So.." he said, tapping the table, "how's the weather down there?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Just the same. Got any new material up there?"

"Plenty" he said, leaning forward. "Like, have you ever considered carrying a stepladder around? Could come in handy."

"Have you ever considered minding your own business?" she shot back.

Ryu grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Not when your business is this entertaining."

When their food arrived, Y/N tried to focus on her croissant, but Ryu wasn't done yet.

"You've got a little chocolate on your face" he said, gesturing to his own cheek.

Y/N frowned and wiped at her face. "Where?"

"Other side" he said, his expression suspiciously innocent.

She tried again. "Did I get it?"

"Nope, still there."

She glared at him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Maybe" he said, popping a piece of his muffin into his mouth.

Y/N huffed. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you keep sitting with me" he said, winking.

Y/N didn't respond, choosing instead to take a long sip of her black coffee. But she couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

Ryu noticed, of course. "See? You secretly love it."

"I don't" she said quickly, but her blush betrayed her.

"Sure you don't" he teased. "Want me to walk you home later? In case you need help crossing the big, scary streets little girl?"

Y/N glared at him. "If I need help, I'll call someone taller than you and I’m not little."

"You’re adorable" he corrected, grinning when her face turned red.

Ryu laughed, a deep, rich sound that made Y/N's heart flutter despite herself.

For the first time, Y/N found herself wondering, was this just teasing, or was it something more?

She glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat when their eyes met. That familiar mischievous grin spread across his face, and for a second, she couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe, just maybe, Ryu wasn’t just the annoyingly tall guy who liked to mess with her. Maybe, he liked her... just like she was starting to like him.

------ THE END.

what do you think!? Thank you for reading my one shot. I know it's cliche but I work really hard for it. Thank you sooo much. If you like to read my other stories, click here.

[daydreamsandafternoonteafics]

Let's Pretend It's Love- Chapter 6

banner by ren

I think it’s safe to stay that I was absolutely ecstatic about the way dinner turned out Sunday. Thanks to Harry’s undeniable charm and wit, I had my family completely fooled. I felt this really strong satisfaction by finally looking I had my shit together for once.

Even though my relationship with Harry wasn’t real, the intense power I felt over my family was. It had been a little over a week since dinner at Mum and Dad’s and I’d had no communication with Harry since then. He hadn’t called or texted and he hadn’t come into the shop mostly to Jessa’s dismay. It was totally fine with me though being that we’d practically spent all weekend together. Even though dinner turned out great things were still pretty awkward between Harry and I and I felt it would be best if we spent some time apart to recharge our batteries.

“I’m knackered, Pres. Will you do me a favor and lock up for me tonight?” Jess asked while pulling her spiral curled hair into the best possible bun she could manage. She’d already locked up her office and had her handbag and the rest of her belonging already gathered and ready to go. I don’t know why she asked. Wednesdays were usually my day to lock up anyway.

“Of course I will. Go home and get your beauty rest, love.” I replied rolling up my shirtsleeves. I’d just finished stocking the new shipment of leather that had come in this afternoon.

A sleepy smile settled on Jess’ face. “Thanks, Pres. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone, yeah?”

I chuckled. “Can’t promise anything. G'night!” I replied with a grin.

“Night! See ya tomorrow!”

With that, Jess sauntered out of the shop, the familiar brass bell ringing behind her.

I hummed softly to myself as I left the storage room and headed back to the front counter to tidy up and lock the cash register. The sun was beginning to set and traffic was dying down so my cab ride home wasn’t bound to be long.I smiled to myself knowing that in little less than an hour I’d be back at my flat stuffing my face with take away, catching up on my Netflix series. and brushing Ollie’s coat. Either I’m going through a quarter life crisis or I’m becoming more and more of a recluse everyday. Normal twenty-five year olds don’t think about takeaway and their cats 24/7.

On my lock up nights, the first thing I ever did before anything else was lock the cash register. In the event that I ever left the shop in a rush, at least the cash register would be locked and Jessa wouldn’t kill me in the morning when she came in only to discover a day or two worth of money gone. The register locked with a satisfying sound and simultaneously the brass bell of the shops door rang indicating a straggling customer. We closed at seven, it was approximately 6:55. This is certainly not this bloke’s lucky day. Unlike Jess, I did not entertain customers past 6:50.

“Sorry mate, we’re closed.” I announced avoiding eye contact with the tardy customer and grabbing a nearby broom.

“I reckon you’d make an exception for your bosses favorite customer, yeah?"That familiar, deep drawl rang.

I quickly spun around dropping the broom in the process and locked eyes with a certain curly headed bloke. The hell is he doing here?

"Shit! Harry. It’s just you.” I spoke nervously bending down to pick up the broom I’d just dropped.

I mentally cursed myself for being so jumpy. So much for looking calm and collected. Now I bet the thinks I’m a ball of nerves. Harry chuckled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten ya.” He spoke running a hand through his unruly curls.

“S'ok.” I replied as I quickly began sweeping around the area.

Maybe if I avoid him long enough, he’ll go away. Who am I kidding? That’ll never work.

“So what brings you here this fine Wednesday, three minuets till closing?” I asked. Stopping my task for a moment leaning my elbows against the front counter.

Harry grinned revealing his dimples. “I came to see you, actually.” He replied. My eyebrow’s rose in curiosity.

“Me and not the beautiful Jessamine?” I teased.

He chuckled. “ No, just you. You owe me a favor and I’ve finally come up with somethin.” He replied casually propping an elbow on the counter. There’s an ulterior motive. Figures. Guy always have ulterior motives.

I pursed my lips.“Hmm. Fire away but there are limitations.”

Harry grinned. “Go out with me tonight.” As soon as the last syllable escaped his mouth I was positive that somewhere in the world, had a record been playing, it had scratched. For some strange reason I could feel my heart hammering against my chest. He wants me to go out with him. Like on a date?

My eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“What?” I questioned, perhaps a bit too sharply.

Harry blushed staring down at his ragged boots before running a hand through his curls. “I-I mean like grab a few pints with me, yeah?”

I let out a slow breath of relief and smiled. “You could’ve just said that. Are you sure about this? You’ve seen my ugly side when I have alcohol.” I replied as I began gathering my belonging that were behind the counter.

Harry shrugged “I have faith you’ll stay on your best behavior.” My eyebrows rose in a playful manner.

“Such lofty expectations, Styles. But if you insist, I’ll bite.”

*****

“Seems like Keg gets more expensive every week. Price I pay for livin in London, yeah?” Harry asked watching the beer’s foam fizz with careful green eyes as the bartender placed the gorgeous, golden pints in front of us.

This was just the type of mid-week fix I needed. Ever since I’d been old enough to drink, beer had always been one of my favorites. According to Mum and Penny it put on extra weight but I’d never seemed to care.

“Yeah. But it’s worth it. This is a celebration after all. Cheers.” I declared raising my glass.“

Cheers to what?” He asked furrowing his brows.

“Cheers to surviving dinner with the very dysfunctional Taylor family. Don’t think you know what a big accomplishment that is.”

I raised my glass and Harry smirked clinking his glass against mine. Once we’d both taken the opportunity to guzzle the vast majority of our booze, Harry spoke.

“Your family’s not that as bad as you say. Your Dad seems like a fun guy and Penny and Liam are nice enough. I reckon your Mum’s not too keen on me, though” He observed tracing his finger along the brim of his glass.

I rolled my eyes already feeling a buzz from the alcohol.

“You have to excuse my mum. She can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Harry’s green eyes widened. “Hey, hey. That’s your mum you’re talking about!” He exclaimed. By the look on his face I’d just committed a capital crime. It was simply an honest observation.

“It’s only the truth, Harry. Besides not every has the perfect mum like you do.” I replied matter of factly.

That confident, dimpled smirk I’d come to know spread across Harry’s handsome face.“My mum’s not perfect but she’s pretty close.”

I took a long sip of my beer. “You don’t have to brag about it.” I replied playfully smacking his shoulder.

He chuckled and I could tell that the alcohol was taking it’s affect on him by how glossy his green eyes were. “I’ll have to let you meet my mum someday. I think she’d like you.” Even though I felt warm, tinigly and relaxed from the beer, something about Harry’s words did not quite settle well.

It seemed almost every time I had a comfortable moment with Harry there was always something that just made it feel wrong. Maybe he was just the wrong guy for my situation. Maybe there was just no chemistry between the two of us. It’s too late to “break up” with him and find another person. Mum and Penny would be highly suspicious.

“This is never going to work.” I spoke after what felt like an eternity of silence.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked staring at his half empty glass.

I sighed. “I mean you and me. We’re too awkward around each other. You were good Sunday yes but we won’t be able to keep up the act for long if we don’t get over this hump.” Harry furrowed his brows in deep though. I’d noticed he always did that when he was thinking about something deeply.

“I know! We need an ice breaker.” He replied.

I groaned. I hated this part of dating. It was all so cliche and such a chore.

“Fine.”

Harry grinned revealing dimples. “Great. I’ll go first.” He cleared his throat. “Hi, I’m Harry. I’m 25 and I’m from Cheshire, Holmes Chapel to be exact. I like coffee and thrifting and the occasional golf. Juggling is my hidden talent and I used to work in a bakery. I suck at football and I dropped out of Uni. Oh, and Orange is my favorite color.” He finished with a charming grin. What is this? Blind Date?

“Your turn.” Harry announced.

I sighed. This is so cheesy but here goes nothing I guess. “Hi, I’m Presley. I’m 25 and I’m from London. I have a fraternal twin sister which means we’re not identical and I work in leather retail. I like black. I like take away and Netfix and my cat Ollie and I think ice breakers are stupid.” I replied annoyance in every syllable

. Harry reached over and placed his large hand on my tiny shoulder with a grin wide grin. “See that wasn’t so hard, yeah” He asked.

I shrugged. “As much as I hate to admit it, I reckon it wasn’t that bad.” I replied begrudgingly before taking another sip of beer. Harry smiled seemingly pleased with my answer.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you detest introductions so much?” He asked.

I sighed. “I guess because there’s really nothing interesting to say about myself. If you haven’t figured by now, I’m kind of boring.” I could hear my speech beginning to slur a bit.

A slow smile swept over Harry’s lips. “I find you quite interesting, actually.” He replied. I scoffed. “You’re just saying that because I’m buying you beer.” I replied.

“Honestly though, you are rather interesting. You’re the only girl I know who knows how to take proper care of boots, you were named after Elvis Presley and you have an awesome Beatles obsessed dad. Plus you have an obvious soft spot for cats and you’re quite witty. You can’t deny that’s quite interesting.”

I tried my hardest to hide the grin that was tugging at the corner of my lips but it was no use.

“You’re too nice, Harry.” I replied.

He grinned. “It just adds to the rest of my interesting qualities. Don’t cha think?” Harry replied proudly.

“Hmm. I’ll get back to you on that one.”

Perhaps ice breakers weren't that bad after all. Neither was hanging out with Harry.

[donnerpartyofone]

Even though it pains me that my expensive new phone's camera refuses to focus on an entire close-up image, even a flat one, and I am assured by many forums and reddits and the like that I'm doing it right and this camera just sucks, I will still share one of the great, sadly uncredited illos from my little old copy of Ray Bradbury's The Golden Apples of the Sun (great title stolen from a Yeats poem).

I've never read any Bradbury before, except for Fahrenheit 451 in high school which I compared so unfavorably with 1984 that I maybe didn't give it a fair try. Anyway, some of these short stories are good--or parts of them are, individually. I find him overly flowery at times, like he'll start out with a really strong description that catches my interest, but then he ruins it by continuing to add adjectives and similes just to be novel, and it's like buddy you nailed it a minute ago, what are you doing to yourself? And a lot of it is excessively sentimental in this kind of condescending way. For me the perfect example of his affect (so far) is a story where about 90% of it is just this beautiful description of a guy walking around in the suburbs on a November night, it's just captivating and the pleasure the character takes in this activity is so vividly conveyed--but then at the last minute it turns into this thing about how he's being thrown in a mental institution because he likes to go outside and read books instead of watching TV all the time, and it's just so smug and obnoxious.

There's a certain trend in science fiction, maybe it's partially his fault but it seems like a natural temptation, to congratulate the present, or even the recent past, for being so wholesome and righteous. Which is like, dystopia is a trope that I enjoy for sure, but there's a difference between saying "Humanity could be headed in a bad direction due to certain vices and imbalances," and saying "Humanity should leave everything exactly the way it is right now (or the way it was in my romanticized memories of my own childhood) because it's already perfect." It's very easy to become hyper-conservative and self-satisfied about your personal good old days. I wish I had a bunch of examples at the ready, I'm sure you can think of some or you'll notice it next time you see one, but very often the hinge issue is books. Like even as a reader and also a writer, I feel a little insulted by stories where ultimate virtue is exemplified by a character's love of reading, or villains are clearly identified because they hate books for whatever reason. OK, we get it, you're better than everybody else because you write! Good thing we're in the club too, how else could we be reading a book right now if we weren't inherently superior to the rest of the universe?

Anyway, the story this illo is from got me thinking about the notion of prescience in fiction. Like once in a while you get truly weird visions of the future (I just wrote this thing about futuristic frissons in each of the Cronenberg kids' first films), but I suspect that sometimes what seems to be a prophecy of the future is really just an acknowledgment of something inevitable. "The Murderer" takes place in a future where there is absolutely constant stimulation being broadcast from every quarter; all of life is one big billboard, there's no relief from being in constant electronic contact with everyone you know, and there's entertainment blasting out of everywhere in a continuous onslaught of overstimulation. The title character starts "murdering" all the devices, and all the stuff in his smart home, until he gets institutionalized. And on the most obvious level it's just Bradbury congratulating himself for being such a balanced and thoughtful person, again, but it's also like well, all that stuff was really coming. And did Bradbury really need to be (as they called him) the Greatest Living Science Fiction Writer in order to see it coming? Or was it just obvious, from ordinary trends in human behavior, that life would inevitably tend toward this state of constant connectivity and constant stimulation, with an eventual eradication of peace and privacy?

I used to like to listen to Damien Echols talk about all his occult learnings from his monastic existence in prison, and something he would say (he probably got this from somewhere else and I missed it) is that a prophet is not someone who predicts the future; a prophet is a person who understands the past. This made a lot of sense to me, that if you're sharp enough to see what generally happens, it's easy enough to see where things are headed. I think this is probably true of a lot of fiction we'd call prescient-- that if you look closely, it becomes clear that what it describes is sadly obvious.

[engelakiko]

There's no escape

This fanfic is based on some of the creator's answers! I do not speak English, the text was translated using a translator, so errors are possible (although I will try to minimize them) (Kei belongs to @minevn)

_(:3 」∠)_

… I don't remember how long I've been here. Since I escaped, all I've been surrounded by is the bare walls of the hospital, not the friendliest nurses, patients, and not a single hint of… him.

Akiko didn't know what she wanted more: to see Kei in a mental hospital or to see him in prison, every day followed the same scenario: morning, breakfast, check-up, afternoon, lunch, nap time, dinner, night. The only thing that distinguished her day from the days of the other patients was happiness. The happiness of being here, in a mental hospital, away from Kei and his all-seeing gaze. The joy of understanding that Akiko could now communicate with people and not see the one who made a chaotic tangle out of the girl's feelings was so overwhelming that the picture of her dancing and singing in fits of joy was not uncommon.

-Miss Engel, follow me.

"Oh, it seems the time has come for medical checks, one of the forms of entertainment within the confines of a place where you can't draw, sing, read, or sit on your phone. With a light, quick gait, I followed the nurse. To my question "Where are we going?" not receiving an answer, a slight anxiety settled in my heart, which I quickly dismissed. Walking along the same, unrenovated corridors that were filled with crying, the voices of doctors and other patients, who, apparently, also saw joy in the procedures, I was taken to the hall on the first floor while I was immersed in memories of my arrival here…."

….A week ago…

-I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE -Miss, please breathe, no one is going to hurt you. Please explain what's going on. -H-HE'S DANGEROUS, HE'S NOT A HUMAN, A MONSTER, A KILLER! HE'S TRYING TO KEEP ME IN THE HOUSE…! -…call the doctors. Miss, calm down, no one is threatening you, who are you talking about? "…..I tried. I really tried to explain what's going on, but will they believe me? I'm…hysterical…talking about how the guy from the game came out of the laptop and is trying to keep me in the house…what kind of nonsense is this, right?

I hardly knew the city where Kei brought me, the fact that I ended up at the doctor's WITHOUT him was already a miracle. How smoothly he managed everything. He took advantage of my state of shock and introduced himself to my parents as my fiancé whom I met in college, and they believed him. Of course, how could you not believe him? Perfect knowledge of Russian, a brilliant mind, beautiful appearance and the unconditional love that he showed can fool anyone. Kei, as if controlling puppets, deprived my parents of all doubts, took the most necessary things, and moved me to another city (to which she wanted to move, judging by the browser history). In just a few days, he managed to turn my life upside down: make me a wife (of a HIGH-RANKING CIVIL OFFICIAL, DAMN IT), get a comfortable home, deprive me of my acquaintances, my job, my confidence in my sanity (AND A PHONE WITH THE INTERNET!!!), he even dared to deprive me of Jun, Kage… Haruto with Yani. Yes, they were part of the game created by Kei, but I already loved them as if they were alive and real. He deprived me of life….."

So Akiko managed to escape to the doctor with great difficulty, for some reason the idea of ​​visiting a psychiatrist seemed good to her. Needless to say, it wasn't quite so? She was taken to a psychiatric clinic. At first, she took it as a sign that she would never see a happy and peaceful life, but now everything has changed. Akiko finally calmed down, didn't see Kei, made new friends…

….Our days…

Continuing to follow the nurse, being immersed in her thoughts, the girl suddenly woke up hearing a soft, calculating voice… HIS VOICE.

"…no"

-…when she arrived here she didn't have any things with her, so you don't need to pack anything "..no"

-Okay, in that case Akiko will change and we'll go home, I've already received the head doctor's orders. I apologize for my wife.

".no"

-She didn't cause any problems, but you need to make sure that she takes her medication.

"NO NO NO!!!"

-Sure. I'll take care of her

-WHY IS HE HERE?!

At Akiko's sharp cry, all the nurses who were nearby immediately looked at her, not noticing the man's slight smile.

-My love, everything is fine. I was really worried about you, I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier -

-STAY AWAY FROM ME

-Are you sure you can take care of her? I think she needs a little more…

-I'm sure we're leaving.

-O-okay

"I tried to move and run, but my legs felt like cotton wool. Why are they letting me go with him? Why are they even letting me go?!"

-Let's go home, dear.

Kei said, gently but firmly grabbing Akiko's hand, leading her to the locker room to change and take her… home. She couldn't resist, she couldn't run, she had no choice.

Bonus based on a fantasy about one of the posts of the developer lol

[dragon-sentinel]

I have already seen my fair share of

"Barbie is great because it teaches girls they can be hyperfeminine and pink and glittery etc. etc. and still be empowered. Barbiecore!! It has nothing to do with pleasing men. Men hate the movie, see?

Also, it's not bad if girls are taught to "have fun" with make-up from an early age on."

And I just get so tired. I wish people would understand the effects and the role of femininity (even the version that "supposedly does not revolve around men and is hated by them") in our larger cultural context and how femininity is part of a gendered hierarchy.

It does not exist in a vacuum and cannot be divorced from the damaging history of femininity's social function as a reinforcement of sexism, patriarchal dynamics and gendered hierarchies.

It doesn't just go away because of a fun movie.

Don't get me wrong. Barbie is a good movie and I am not saying it has no value or doesn't also teach women many good things.

But two things can be true at the same time.

Barbie can reinforce good messages (women can have great careers, STEM jobs, be successful, call out sexual harassment etc.) while also reinforcing harmful messages with regard to other cultural facets such as beauty standards, make-up culture and the alienation of women's natural faces (and this being pushed onto young girls too), fear of aging, having to embody a set of pleasing "aesthetics", wearing clothing/looks that can be unpractical restricting and demand lots of self-monitoring (increasing a woman's cognitive load because part of her attention always has to check whether her skirt didn't go up too high to prevent flashing her underwear, whether her make-up smudged, whether her hair is in place etc.) and spending lots of time, money and resources on beauty and fashion-related products and practices.

Those things ARE harmful femininity. And only because you think a subset of men don't like it doesn't mean it doesn't reinforce and teach these basic concepts of women being valued immensely for their decorative appearance.

(Also, more on that whole "men don't like these aesthetics" down belove because I think this claim also needs to be looked at with more nuance.)

These messages are not mutually exclusive. The same piece of media can absolutely provide very good commentary on one topic while giving bad commentary on another.

"But pink is just a color and there is nothing wrong with glitter."

I agree! But Barbie's aesthetics are the full package of femininity.

Because it is not just about glitter or about pink. Barbie's default isn't running around in pink sweatpants with a glittery oversized hoodie and purple crocs with messy hair and no make-up. Or some funny fantasy clown make-up.

Barbie generally looks conventionally stunning.

She wears carefully selected, perfectly designed beautiful and feminine outfits, styled through and through from head to toe.

And even if there is some ironic twist somewhere in the movie, its entire advertisment and PR are very explicitly focused on those hyperfeminine aesthetics.

Her event and PR outfits referencing iconic Barbie looks and the hyperfeminine aesthetics in trailers and promotional material to grab people's attention are a core part of their campaign.

That is also socialization. It still presents these things as attractive and desirable, as it reinforces that people should find these things appealing and direct their attention towards them.

I am aware that the movie also comments on body odor or cellulite.

I know it has moments like America Ferrera's monologue and I appreciate these things but this doesn't erase the rest of the aesthetic narrative of the movie, which does want you to enjoy and have fun with those pink hyperfeminine aesthetics. It is part of your viewing pleasure.

Despite the good points it makes it simultaneously also wants you to be positively and genuinely entertained by the aesthetics.

When it comes to this, the movie has an "eat your cake and have it too" mentality because they want to (rightfully) criticize some damaging expectations superimposed on women by feminine gender roles, i.e., femininity. But they clearly also want to keep others. They think some of them are not actually harmful but fun, empowering, even though a thorough look at the femininity they promote as worth keeping will uncover that they still have disadvantaging effects on women and keep crucial parts of the patriarchal hierarchy intact.

And in some regards their messages are even contradictory. Because on the one hand they do want to criticize unrealistic beauty standards (see Gloria's monologue) but at the same time even "self-centered" femininity, wanting to look good, feminine, pretty "for yourself", expressing your "identity" with a certain type of feminine fashion, still has the aforementioned mental and material effects (altered relationships with our bare faces because of make-up, even if your "eyeliner that is so sharp that it can kill a man, is for yourself and yourself alone", spending lots of time and money on restrictive clothing and make-up products, placing a significant amount of value on your looks, constantly monitoring your outward appearance).

As women we have learned to lie to ourselves and live with this cognitive paradox constantly.

"We don't need to shave. But we do it because we "want to", because even though "we don't have to" for some reasons we all collectively still think it is unattractive and unfeminine. But hey we "choose" to shave so it's different!

Aging is totally fine! Women are allowed to age! But at the same time we invest lots of time and money in anti-aging products and routines but this time under the guise of self-care. We don't have to of course. We are perfectly fine with wrinkles! It's just an (odd, collective) "personal" preference that the majority of women would still rather look youthful forever. But this time it's different! It's a choice!"

Materially we are doing the exact same thing that we are conditioned to do by patriarchal norms but thanks to the rhetoric of positive femininity, choice and personal preference we do not need to actually change our behaviour. We can let the words, the impressive-sounding monologues, do "the work for us" to absolve us, while our actions remain the same.

At the end of the day, the movie doesn't really deconstruct the entire cage of femininity, its roots, and all the aspects that harm women. Instead they reframe and rename some of the same things as a celebration of positive femininity.

But simply keeping something damaging in place and renaming it doesn't remove its negative material effects.

It just serves as a dazzling, soothing paint job to distract you and make you feel better about liking it, even if it doesn't serve you.

Hence, it's clear that the movie wants you to think that these aesthetics themselves are or can be, on some level, still fun and good.

(Again, that doesn't mean that it doesn't also promote good messages at other moments.)

And the public reception proves it. Otherwise we wouldn't have those aforementioned takes on how "Barbiecore is empowering because it doesn't revolve around men and "women-centered" hyperfemininity is good."

(Though it has to be noted that whereas pink and glitter are inherently neutral, they have been assigned certain meanings, hence when they are used they do serve as social signifiers and messengers for certain ideas. They are like a condensed proxy or short-form of femininity that quickly and efficently evoke certain gendered ideas in the viewer just by having them look at it.

I think sub-cultures are a good example: Goth and emo fashion for women is not considered attractive by many average people, including average men. And I am pretty sure most goths and emos would tell you they wear this kind of fashion for themselves, to express themselves and not to fulfill any gendered (mainstream!) expectations.

But. Within these scenes there are very often STILL very distinct differences in the type of fashion men and women wear. And oddly enough they often align more with traditional gender expectations than they like to admit (even the higher degree of androgynity in male fashion in those scenes doesn't undo those dynamics - the sexualization and pornification of women in those scenes is very prominent).

Funny. One might wonder why this is the case.

So you still have feminine, pretty, sexy, lady-like goth and emo girls who might not appeal to the general public's taste. But within the scene they very much appeal to that scene-related male gaze.

So the basics of femininity are still taught and lived.

And in addition, if for some reason a woman were to change her style and leave those scenes she might let go of her specific fashion sense but she will most likely take the basic teachings of femininity with her: that there lies immense value in her being decorative (for men).

I honestly think many women are in denial about the fact that yes, even their "self-centered" femininity benefits men as it consolidates certain tranditional gendered roles. And I also think that women are often taught to lie themselves (amongst others by liberal feminism) with regard to how much they actually appreciate men's positive attention and feedback (and I don't blame them for wanting those things, that's how we are socialized, even on purely platonic levels. As a lesbian even I notice how much I often value and unconsciously want positive (platonic or professional) feedback from men in particular. We as a society value men's opinions and attention deeply.)

Coming back to Barbie I think all of this can be applied as well.

First, just as with non-mainstream femininity in alternative scenes "Barbiecore" still teaches the same basic concepts of decorative femininity, encouraging many of the aforementioned damaging behaviours connected to femininity (money, time, resources, cognitive load, value of external attractiveness/appeal), even if women believe they do it for themselves.

And if a woman moves on from pink, glittery Barbiecore to another type of feminine fashion these fundamental values will probably remain with her. At best they have not been challenged by Barbiecore, at worst they have been reinforced, but this time under the pretense of "self-love", self-care or focusing on one's self, ostensibly not serving the male gaze.

Second, it is naive to believe that no man finds Margot Robbie's Barbie and her looks attractive in the movie (just like there are enough men who think unconventional, i.e., non-mainstream, displays of femininity like gothic/emo etc. are attractive).

Given Margot Robbie's attractiveness and the fact that beyond the pink color palette, Barbie's feminine fashion itself is not really "outrageous" (vs. some scene clothing) I wouldn't be surprised if the number of men who are attracted to her movie character is actually higher than the "men hate barbiecore" idea wants to make one believe. They may say they don't but in my opinion it's an act to save face and demonstrate ostensible superiority, just like when they call beautiful women "mid". (Also as we know men are very well willing to fuck what they hate; it's just another display of "dominance").

I am actually very convinced that there is a significant amount of men who would totally dig the very same looks she is sporting if her behavior was different.

I believe they hate her despite her good looks because her personality does not align with their gendered expectations of what a woman should be.

So out of spite, as a punishment, they call her and her aesthetics ugly and childish - because they know beauty is one of the things women are primarily valued for in our society, hence it's an effective target to attack.

If she kept the look but acted like a 50s house wive I'm pretty sure many men would openly say how they are attracted to her (and objectify her).

And even if a portion of men may find the focus on pink genuinely childish they can still like the overall femininity the look reinforces. If you kept the same outfit but changed the colors and removed the glitter it would still be the same basic type of femininity. So with regard to fundamental gendered concepts nothing is really challenged here.

So yes, I genuinely think men hating on "girly" femininity is a lot more aligned with the "Margot Robbie is mid" defense.

They are very clearly attracted to her but they try to paint themselves as not interested, as above that, to display their "superior status and power" over her, because they hate her as a person now. (Or use it as an attempted power play to make girls insecure and - as another post said it perfectly - withold beauty from women because women are taught it's their social currency; so if even women like Margot Robbie are relegated to "mid" they feel self-conscious and weak and will try to win the men's favor to receive their approval - and thus be granted some of that withheld beauty.)

In essence, I really don't buy that men don't actually benefit from "women-centered hyperfemininity" and that it is the looks that don't appeal to them as a class (obviously individual tastes vary).

I am not saying that everything that received the label "feminine" is inherently bad. Compassion and empathy come to mind of course and in an ideal world we might also have separated the harmless parts of the aesthetics (cute fabric patterns like flowers etc., soft but also relaxing and practical cothing) from the harmful practices that reinforce regressive gendered ideas and also lead to increased cognitive load, self-image issues (esp. regarding our bare faces), spending lots of time, money and resources on these things etc.

But we do not live in this ideal world.

We need to treat femininity as the thing that it is in the real world right now. It already has a meaning and this meaning won't be deconstructed by elevating all of it and saying that the harmful parts are actually empowering, too, which is what is happening with those celebrations of barbiecore and pink hyperfemininity.

Your celebration of femininity does not occur in a vacuum.

You cannot pretend the social context in which you do this simply doesn't exist because it spoils your fun and pretend it doesn't actually have any unfavourable consequences for women.

It does.

Gender is a hierarchy, in which femininity is an active tool to place women below men.

That is the reality we need to deconstruct.

-----

A little extra that just came to my mind:

The gothic lolita scene used to have (and perhaps still has) the same kind of rhetoric, too: "We do it for ourselves. Not to appeal to the male gaze. Men don't like this kind of fashion anyway." But a) this is clearly…not true. Gothic lolita, including the non-revealing styles (which make up most of the styles actually), is still popular and fetishized by certain groups of men, precisely because of its (distinct interpretation of) feminine appeal. And b) it still ingrains many core believes of classic femininity into women that transcend the fashion style and reflect accepted and desired ideas about feminine gender roles in broader society.

So the mindset of "doing something that is in line with our sexist society's expectations "for yourself", hence it's different and does not reinforce the same sexist ideals" that women often adapt is a common, recurrent cognitive strategy to justify these preferences to ourselves and others.

Barbiecore is therefore not unique and suddenly above reproach. On the contrary. It perfectly fits a commonly found pattern.

[superfanficnatural]

The Son: Chapter 7

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Male!Reader (The Son)

Summary: You’ve finally broken free of the forces controlling you at a great cost, though the cost of doing so was even greater than you thought. Now, you fight for the antithesis of what you had been representing, and have to grapple with finding your own place in the galaxy while grappling with the person trying to find their way into your heart. Will The Son choose the light? Or the dark? Whatever the answer may be, may the force be with us.

A/N: Ahhhhh a lil training arc you guys! I hope you’re liking the pace of this story and just the story in general! As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,146

Italics are your thoughts

Masterpost

You were woken up by your alarm in the morning. As you turned to silence it, you pulled the blankets over and placed your feet on the floor, sitting on your bed. 

You sighed, “Alright, Y/N, There’s no time to waste. You have to get in control of your emotions, and do whatever you can to assimilate and learn to prepare for the nexus event.”

There was simply too much going on. While the universe might have kept turning in time, you didn’t. Your sister’s and father’s deaths were less than a week ago in your mind. In less than three days, you found kyber crystals, built a ship, built your lightsabers, learned to pilot and assemble droids, and now you were training to be a Jedi. Not to mention, that... annoyingly charming Poe Dameron you now had to deal with. I don’t have the time nor the emotion to entertain anything with anyone. I’ve never been attracted to someone, and I never will. I know from Leia the Jedi weren’t allowed any kinds of romantic relationships as they feared it could be a cause of turning to the dark side. I have to heed that message, I will never allow that evil to consume me once more. Not to mention, I don’t think I’m his type, I’ve seen the looks from the women soldiers we’ve walked past towards him.

“How can the Jedi before me possibly condone me rushing the process this much... let alone my mental state... I’m not so sure they want me to be a Jedi after all,” you spoke aloud into the empty room. 

You looked around as if they were hiding before rolling your eyes and sighing once more, getting up and heading to the shower. After you had cleaned yourself, you prepared for the day and got dressed, leaving your room to head towards command. As you walked in, the room was busy as usual but you had caught Leia in the back speaking with a few others. You walked up to them and made yourself known.

“Y/N, I was hoping to see you, it’s time to begin your training. I trust you have gotten to know the base and our people a bit better?” Leia turned to you as she noticed.

You smiled, “I have, there are truly good people here.”

She smiled in return, “I’m glad to hear it.” She waved the two workers off and guided you forward with a hand on the small of your back, “Your sabers are complete, which means it’s time to learn how to use them.” 

You allowed her to guide you, “I understand. After I built them, I knew I had to learn as well.”

The two of you walked on for a while until you reached a small clearing in the forest, “We’ll begin our practice here. We’ll start with the first form. Good thing is, it can be adapted to the use of multiple sabers. Though for now, light only one,” Leia instructed, already beginning to teach you.

“Alright, first form,” you muttered out loud to remind yourself as you unclipped your white saber, as it was on your dominant hand, and ignited the front half of the blade.

“The first form is called Shii-Cho, it’s the most basic, and was designed with simplicity and adaptability in mind,” Leia informed. “It focuses on wide sweeping strikes, fluid and relaxed movements, and circular motions with an emphasis on blocking or redirecting. Have your feet shoulder width apart, with your blade held in a neutral position with both of your hands.”

You listened intently and tried to learn as much as possible and apply yourself. You placed your feet shoulder width apart and held your lightsaber with both of your hands right in front of you.

“Good, now, you want to bend your knees slightly and keep a balanced state of gravity. Every time you move, it will be either to take a step forward, or backward. Whenever you do so, your opposite leg from the side of your body that you are using to mainly execute your move, will be the first one to move forwards or backwards to brace your attacking or defending side and follow through with your movement. Got it?”

You nearly tripped over your own thoughts but actually understood exactly what she had said. She was alluding to your movements with your saber being tied to your body, as it moves, so does your body to support it. She also talked about shifting your weight in tandem with your strikes for more power. 

“I think so.” “Alright, now, make a diagonal slice from your left shoulder to your right hip as if you were attacking.”

You brought your right knee forward and took a step, twisting the upper half of your body slightly and raising your saber up to your left shoulder and angling it as you did so. As you did this, you could feel the synergy between your sabers and your body, and your connection with the force felt effortless as your sabers were ignited, as if all you had to do was hold them to channel the force. Because of this, you could feel the wisdom in the movements through the force, feel how it was ever so slightly guiding your body in the right direction. It was just slightly shaky as you didn’t feel completely confident, but you slashed diagonally, your left foot coming up to plant next to your right to support a perfect finish. As you finished your slash, the whoosh of the air was visible in front of your saber as you completed a powerful strike.

“Very impressive, Y/N, you grasped my intentions and executed the slash beautifully, just need to solidify with more practice,” Leia commented.

You smiled at your accomplishment, “That felt... amazing. My sabers felt like they were a part of my body and it was like stretching for the first time.”

“Let’s take advantage of this, next movement.”

She walked you through the movements of the first form and you managed to grasp it rather quickly. You were sometimes unsure of what you had done which led you to try a few of them once or twice more. 

It was slowly beginning to get dark but you still had plenty of daylight when Leia spoke once more, “You’re making incredible progress, how about we introduce more than one saber to the form? Do you think you could apply it the same way?”

You were panting as you had been at it for hours but still had a smile on your face, “I’d be more than happy to.”

You ignited the other half of the blade and shifted your grip, holding it with an inside grip with your left hand and an outside grip with your right hand. You maintained the form completely, though, instead, you hunched just slightly lower and brough the saber at level with your neck, holding it horizontally in a ready position. You raised your blade similarly to how you sliced diagonally at the beginning of training and made the same slash, this time with the other half ignited. Though, this time, you let go with your right hand at the end of the slash and twisted your saber to have the bottom half come back up for another strike and grabbed the saber again with your right hand to flick your hand backwards and throw a third slice before readjusting your grip into the same position it was in before. 

“You incorporated spinning without me having to say anything, I’m truly impressed, Y/N,” Leia commented as you deactivated your saber. 

You walked up to her, “Yeah, I thought since the form had an emphasis on circular motion and adaptability, if a dual-blade is introduced it makes sense to use spinning moves to curb multiple attacks.”

She nodded with a smile, “Exactly right.” She looked into the darkening sky, “I think that today is probably a good time to call it. I’m gonna head back, but I want you to sit and meditate for a while, I want you to remember how you felt with the force as you practiced, it’ll help your body memorize it. Tomorrow, we do it again.”

You nodded, “Of course, thank you for training, Leia.”

As she left, you returned to where you were standing in practice and sat down comfortably. Closing your eyes, you connected with the force and thought back to what you felt as you were practicing your forms. You felt light, but also the dark. It’s not that I’m afraid of the dark side anymore... I’m afraid of what it might do to me once more. But I can’t fully wield my lightsabers or the force without it, it’s... a part of me. My journey will simply have to be harder than any Jedi before, actively using the dark side without letting it influence me.

“Who said you were the only Jedi who used the dark side?” a voice within your mind resounded.

“Who are you?” you tried to communicate with the voice within your head. The voice responded, “You don’t know me, but I’m Mace Windu, Jedi Master.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “You said you used the dark side?”

“I used my anger, my frustration, and I channeled it in a way that I had complete control. I developed a variant of the seventh lightsaber form, Juyo, called Vaapad, that channeled the dark side to increase attack power while still being in control. Though it doesn’t channel pure dark, it employs emotions that are representative of the dark in a righteous and controlled purpose,” he said rather proudly.

“So it’s not impossible to use both? If you were at the precipice, then perhaps I could push it even further,” you whispered aloud.

“While the light and the dark are in opposition, it doesn’t mean that we can’t feel both, employ both to our own uses. Though there is a reason not many Jedi learned the form,” he remarked.

You hummed, “I assume it depends on the individual on whether or not they allow themselves to be overtaken by their emotions.”

He grunted in approval, “While it’s normally random on whether a Jedi is tested by the dark side or not, you have the unfortunate circumstance of actually being imbued with the dark. You’re going to have to reach full control over yourself, or risk losing everything,” his voice faded out and you ended up completely losing the connection with him.

You pondered his words for a few moments longer before getting back up and deciding to go get some food before turning in for the night. You managed a small conversation with a few soldiers in the cantina as you ate and got along nicely with them before retiring to your quarters. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t want to go see Poe at least and ask him about his day but after the conversation you had with Mace, you realized that you couldn’t introduce any foreign elements yet when you hadn’t even figured out everything you were dealing with anyways. For now, you had to focus on allowing yourself to channel the dark side without letting it consume you, and practice your forms. Anything else would have to wait.

The day after was spent much like the one you just had, waking up to get some food and meeting up with Leia at the spot you trained previously. 

“Today, we’re going to be doing forms two and three,” Leia announced.

“Makashi, Soresu, right?” you questioned, not even knowing those were the names until they left your mouth.

She looked a bit shocked, “Yes, actually. How did you know?”

You shrugged, “I had a conversation with a previous force user, Mace Windu. He advised me on a few things and I must have gained some knowledge about the forms that way?”

She hummed, “Your connection is extremely strong, to be able to speak with the dead through the force. Luke once told me how his master, Obi-Wan, had come to him in physical form through the force and spoke to him when he was training with Master Yoda.”

You didn’t recognize the name ‘Yoda’ but for some reason it felt familiar to you, as if you had once spoken to them even... 

“I haven’t seen any physical manifestations but I have spoken to a force user before, someone wise, that helped me get my crystals,” you responded, thinking back to Utapau.

She thought to herself for a moment, “It’s entirely possible that you have a much different kind of connection with the force than the rest of us do. You’re human right?” The question seemed so absurd but strangely completely relevant, “I- I think so. For as long as I can remember, my family and I lived on Mortis, a realm where the force originates from.”

“The origin of the force?” she questioned, intrigued.

You made a face, “Not exactly. The force originates in a plane outside of our existence, in a place you know as the cosmic force. Think of it like... if we did not have the means to travel into the galaxy, and never knew it was out there, so vast, the galaxy would be the same as the cosmic force.”

She hummed as she put the pieces together in her mind, “You mean it’s a place that we cannot reach because we do not currently have the tools to understand it?”

You smiled, “Along those lines. Mortis is essentially the one place that is a pocket dimension of the cosmic force. There is a well there called ‘The Font of Power’ where I drank from to increase my power with the dark side. My sister would increase her power of the light from bathing in the 'Pool of Knowledge.' It is where we received our immortality. I remember nothing of my life before my immortality but based on my physical appearance, I would say I am human.”

“Most likely, through drinking the water from the well, you must have developed some kind of internal pure connection with the force, which is why your power comes so easily to you.”

You thought to yourself for a moment as well, “You might be right. It’s arguable that my family and I were physical manifestations of the force. However, once my father lost his power, I lost my immortality. I don’t quite understand it myself but I have gained my fathers power, yet lost the immortality it provided.”

“And do you regret that?”

You were taken aback, “W-what do you mean?”

“Do you regret that you’ve lost your immortality? That your father and sister passed away?”

“Leia,” you said incredulously, “what are you-”

“I asked you a question, it’s up to you whether or not you allow my words to give you a reaction,” she calmly responded.

The anger that was swelling within you paused, this is a part of my training, she needs to know if I can handle my past, especially if I’m becoming a Jedi.

You sighed and closed your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, “Of course I regret it. Not my immortality, I couldn’t care less about that, I regret what I did to my family.” Your voice broke as you spoke your final words, “What I did.”

She shook her head with a soft expression, “What you did, or what the dark side made you do?”

You thrusted your arms out, “I don’t know! Yes? No! All I know is that it was my hands that was stained with my sister's blood, my clothes that were stained with my fathers blood because he wanted to stop me. Me.”

She was unbroken, “And what did your father and sister believe? Did they think they had to stop you or the dark side?”

You were once again struck silent from her words. Isn’t that the same thing? You were taken back to your final moments with your father within your mind as the scene played out again.

“I don’t know how it took me so long to see, but I realize that your actions are not your own. You are governed by the dark and I will not allow my son to be a slave to evil.”

Suddenly, you thought of your sister and your kyber crystals. 

“I do not blame you for my death, my brother. I simply hope you may live the life I had lost in my place.”

“All they ever wanted was for me to be happy, because they... loved me,” you whispered out loud as you came to your realization.

“Everything they ever did was out of love, how can that possibly mean that they gave up on you? Do you think for a second, that if your actions were truly your own, they would have done what they did? They saw the light in you, your potential, ripped away by the dark side,” Leia came and placed a warm hand on your shoulder as she consoled you. “I know, that the dark is a part of you, and it has done unspeakable things to you, but you have to accept the fact that the darkness is a part of you. Yet, it is not who you are.”

You sniffled and smiled, “Thank you, Leia, that was exactly what I needed to hear.”

“Of course, do you think you’re ready for your training now?”

“I couldn’t possibly be more ready,” you smiled confidently, her words raising your confidence in yourself and your abilities. 

You began your training session much like the day before, Leia explaining the forms and you attempting to get the technique down. The day passed on and you felt like you were even more productive than the day before, as if the realization you had made had quelled your inner conflict and allowed you to channel yourself cleaner. You struggled. As you let the dark side in, you could feel the rage and anger inside of you, but you accepted it. It was so freeing, like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. While it did mess you up a bit in your forms, you felt more whole and the aura you radiated became even clearer. You ended the day with another meditation session, no surprise visitors this time as you allowed your mind to let in the darkness. You would flinch and grunt as the cruelty and ferocity of the dark invaded your senses but attempted to stay balanced regardless. It was a struggle, and in the end, visions of you murdering your sister appeared in your mind and you snapped your eyes open and rushed to your feet with a gasp. 

“Maybe not everything in one day,” you breathlessly affirmed to yourself before leaving and heading toward the cantina.

Next Chapter

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp @shadowsinger11 @donnaintx @flamencodiva @impalawrites-blog @talesmaniac89 @malfoysqueen54 @writercole @hintsofhoney @lassie-bird @never--doubt

Male Reader Tag List: @myybebe @denim-devil @spnfanboy777 @brymalibu

[millenniumdueled]

hey I know there's already so many posts going around d asking for help so I feel really disgusting doing this again, I feel like I don't deserve it when other people are suffering too but im

drowning

I had to call in to work Wednesday and call our emoloyee help line because I was feeling so suicidal over financial stress and now I'm once again unable to stop crying. I just got the paycheck that I was leeching off of during my time off and

I can't afford to pay my rent. I'm $200 short even after taking my savings down to the minimum of $300 I have to maintain to not get charged a fee. I have less than $2 in my emergency checking.

I don't really expect anyone to help. it's my own fault for using time off work as an excuse to go to the bar one night and to eat out twice and I knew damn well I had no business doing either of them I just got caught up wanting to go out since my mental health has been really, really bad and I've been really, painfully unhappy every single day. I hadn't gone out since emo night in February and I don't know how to make irl friends without going places that cost money. I'm so lonely and depressed I just really wanted a chance to make a friend and get to spend time with someone in person again. and I did, I had a great night and played pool and made a friend and we're planning to meet up again but

it feels so much like it wasn't worth it and I knew I didn't deserve to go out and have that fun and I did it anyway

I'm rambling but owning my own mistakes and actions is important to me. I want to be honest that I didn't get fucked over with bills, I did something stupid and selfish and ungrateful and spent almost $100 during a week off work just for funsies. it's why I hate hate hate HATE myself for having to ask for help. I should have to suffer the consequences of my actions so I don't do it again

I have a hair appointment this month I'm already going to have to cancel because I can't afford it. and that's fine, even though it means risking being blacklisted by the only hair salon I've ever not been disappointed or traumatized by

but with student loan repayment starting up again very soon, I can't. empty my savings. I can't lose my entire next paycheck transferring it early to pay my rent.

I can't take any commissions. I have one big one I've been putting off since January bc I'm scared of starting it and it never being good enough. I've been working on another "simple" commission for a month. I don't want to make promises that I can't keep. maybe in the future I can take some more, but I'm not even entertaining the option until I finish what I started.

my pay pal is @MRheuble and venmo is @jupitertrash, or I have tips set up on my personal blog

[satanandsoul]

♉︎ Baekhyun Birth Chart Analysis ♉︎

With Baekhyun now back from the military, I thought it would be a great time in doing a birth chart analysis. I found his birth time on a Twitter account called Kpop astrology archive.

Disclaimer: All these are for entertainment purposes only. DO take my words with a grain of salt.

Asteroids and astrological body that will be discussed in depth in this post are Ceres, Juno and Black Moon Lilith (BML) as they show up prominent in my research.

Most of the planets are in the southern hemisphere (yes, the upper half of the natal chart is called southern hemisphere). No wonder Baekhyun has an out going personality. He has no problem displaying who he is in the public sphere and socialise with others.

A T-square with Sun in 12th house in Taurus opposite Pluto in 6th house in Scorpio and Saturn being the apex in the 10th house in Aquarius: Damn, the amount of tension this astrological pattern brings... The way that Baekhyun natural tendency to just find a private place to chill is in direct conflict with his subconscious desire to work passionately with the additional struggle to build something unconventional but long-lasting in career sprinkled on top. I am afraid Baekhyun's soul won't get to rest before he has cemented himself as one of the greatest vocalists in the Kpop industry as the apex of T-square is often the outlet of this overwhelming tension a native experiences. (He is already a well-recognised vocalist, but there is certainly a next level for his career. He will get there, no worries.) Sun trines Uranus-Neptune conjunction in 8th house Capricorn: In short, this man is dreamy and quirky but in a dark, scorpionic way. This configuration reminds me of the Surrealist paintings that explores the subconscious. Sun squares BML in 9th house in Aquarius: This man struggles with being absolutely free and being his conservative self. He may feel a sense of fatal attraction from rebellious women. Not the type that he will naturally chase after in normal circumstances, but he will be tempted.

Moon in 1st house in Gemini: This man wears his heart on his sleeve. May periodically get puffy face as the moon wanes and waxes. Moon square Mars in 11th house in Aries: His interactions (in the worst case, competitions) with friends, his fans, especially netizens, affect his emotions greatly. He would like his social circles to keep up with him especially mentally and can get frustrated with that isn't the case. A minor grand trine with the Moon trining Saturn and Mercury as the apex in 11th house in Aries: Baekhyun has a talent for structurally communicating his feelings that makes sense to both the logics and emotions. That is what makes Baekhyun appealing to his social circles.

Mercury squares the Uranus-Neptune conjunction in 8th house: This man can have very kinky and dirty thoughts and he will say them. Mercury-Uranus natives don't have the best filter in the cosmo, especially when the aspect is in square. Mercury conjuncts Juno in 11th house in Aries: Future spouse is likely to embody Gemini or Virgo energy. I am leading more towards the Gemini archetype. Talkative, smart, petite, lightweight, almost feels like a fairy. Baekhyun will be friends with this future spouse of his first, friends to lovers trope. This future spouse will be very direct and have a cut-throat sense of humour.

Venus in 12th house in Taurus trines Jupiter in 4th house in Virgo: Judging by the natal chart, Baekhyun seems to have a happy childhood, at least around his family. And he loves this lighthearted feeling and wants to replicate it in his romantic relationships. But he will have his high standards in love as Jupiter in Virgo is known for their high standards and perfectionism. Combined with his Taurus Venus in 12th house, he enjoys keeping his romantic business hidden from the public and loves having physical touches with his romantic partners. He will most likely take his romantic partners to try out restaurants he deems has the best food in town. I mean, that is Taurus Venus for ya. Venus square Ceres in 9th house in Aquarius: This further exaggerates Baekhyun's tendency to take good care of his romantic partner as Ceres represents nourishment and support. Ceres in Aquarius means that Baekhyun's way of nourishing is more intellectual. For example, when his romantic partner is bothered by something, he will nourish his partner through being the voice of reason or providing ideas of solutions.

Mars Trines Pluto: Baekhyun has a deep reservoir of energy. He puts his energy in working. And as Pluto aspects Mars in the 11th house, Baekhyun put in efforts in expanding his social circles, especially he will actively cultivate connections that will be beneficial his work.

Ascendant in Gemini sextiles Mars and squares Jupiter: A very energetic and outgoing personality. Very talkative himself.

Midheaven conjuncts Saturn and BML: Very responsible for his career. A very good sign of succeeding in his chosen profession. But Saturn delays things. Baekhyun's career will most likely soar after his Saturn return which will be after his discharge from the military. (I know he is already a huge Kpop star, but he will be even better. The stars promise that.) And BML is support that. As much as how public hates the Lilithian archetype, they can't help but be drawn to natives with prominent BML as natives with prominent BML offers something different. (Think of Billie Eilish, she is also a singer with prominent Lilith. She is doing music that is drastically different from everybody else.)

[yes-divine-ruler]

𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐒

part 1

pairing: kai anderson x fem!reader

CW: Kai being sexist, fingering, dub-con, Kai is a cult leader

Taglist/ @v-love @evanpetersfav @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff @quicksilversg1rl @dahmevan n @charsdunkie @iruzias @alexxavicry @soaringcloud d @laynna-mcknight t @slimshadyvol2 @simp4petermaximoff @sultrysullen @evan4ever @maeveey

word count: 2793

all parts

"There's no way Kai Anderson is running for city council," Jude shoves her phone in your face, adamant that you see what she has. You take her phone from her, squinting as you scroll through the comments on a Facebook post advertising Kai Anderson's campaign.

"That fucker," you mumble under your breath, handing Jude her phone back and standing from the sofa to move over to your desk.

"What are you thinking?" Jude asks you, sitting beside you on the floor in a beanbag, taking a crisp from the bag and popping it into her mouth.

"We have to take him down," you say, as if it was obvious, your eyes glued to the computer screen as you research your local city office's opening hours.

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" Jude asks smugly, entertained by your hatred towards Kai, but equally interested.

"I'm going to run for city council too, we'll get all the girls together, whisk up a campaign," you turn to Jude with wide, hopeful eyes, "Anderson has women in his cult, Jude, we have to get them out."

"That is absolutely insane Y/N," Jude only laughs at your absurd idea, until she sees you maintain your straight face, and her own smile fades.

"I'm serious, he can't- he can't get away with this shit," you tug on the roots of your hair as you turn back to your desktop screen, digging your elbows into the tabletop of your desk. Closing your eyes, the image of Kai Anderson's stupid face was almost permanently drawn behind your eyelids.

"Yeah, but Y/N, Kai Anderson is a cult leader and like murderer. We're just a bunch of college students studying English lit and gender studies," Jude scoffed, standing from the beanbag and pacing to the kitchen. Although it didn't seem reasonable to go after an experienced serial killer with a mass following, nothing was reasonable about the situation.

"So what? We're just going to let him win?" you ask her, your tone laced with defeat. You couldn't do this alone and having your best friend by your side would make things a whole lot easier.

"I don't know Y/N," Jude hesitates before coming back to your side, placing a hand reassuring on your shoulder, "do you think we can really beat him?"

You smile at her change in attitude, looking up at her with sparkling eyes.

"I know we can."

Together, you and Jude head to Kai Anderson's campaign rally, wearing dark tinted sunglasses and the most inconspicuous clothing. You had to know exactly what obscene ideas he was drilling into the people of Brookfield Heights, and the only way you could do that, was by actively participating in his rally. You sat at the back of his rally, already adorned with loving followers holding up home-made signs indoctrinating others to vote for Kai. The sight alone made you cringe, and you weren't sure how you'd react to see Kai come out on stage. You didn't have to wonder for long, because in that moment, Kai Anderson stepped onto the stage, receiving a round of applause from the audience.

"What an amazing turn out!" Kai called out, only inciting more excitement from the crowd. Your eyes narrowed as you tried to take in his clean-cut appearance. His hair was slicked back and all up in a bun. His torso was clad in a white button up, a grey blazer draped over his shoulders and a red tie knotted around his neck. He looked to play the part, as he started talking about the patriots of America, and ways that "America can be made great again".

"What a load of bullshit," Jude whispered into your ear from next to you, taking a cigarette from her jacket pocket and placing it between her lips. You took a mental note of how charismatic Kai was, and how he basked in the power given to his by his supporters. All it did was make you feel sick.

"For those of you who don't know, my opponent, Sally Keffler, tragically and unexpectedly committed suicide last night," your eyes widen at the news, looking towards Jude to catch her reaction. You both knew that he had to be responsible for her death.

"... I pledge to you, that I will never desert you like she did."

It was enough for you to stand and begin to pace to the platform. Jude followed quickly behind you, trying to grab onto your elbow and stop you from doing something you might regret. It was futile, Jude discovered, when you'd pushed her away and finally stood only feet away from your sworn enemy. You tore the glasses from your eyes and looked up at Kai, as he continued feeding the crowd with lies.

"It was you!" you yell out to him, as he stops mid-sentence, watching you with widened eyes.

"Please elaborate," Kai says into the microphone, leaning against the lectern, cocking his eyebrow questioningly.

"You killed Sally Keffler! And I will prove it!"

The crowd gasp in unison at your admission, as Jude re-joins you at your side, wrapping her arm in yours tightly.

"let's go Y/N, this was not in the plan," she whispers to you between grit teeth, looking around as the crowd stairs at the pair of you.

"No, Jude, they deserve to know," you say back to her, before turning away from Kai and facing the bewildered crowd.

"Kai Anderson is a sick and twisted murderer, and the only person you should be afraid of is him!" you point back towards Kai, not hearing another word from him on the stage, "and I will prove it to you as your next opposing candidate for city council!"

You knew that it might've seemed like a big accusation to make in front of a crowd full of people who lived and breathed Kai Anderson, and that there was a possibility that it could backfire on you but in that moment, you didn't care. You were a person for the people, and a city councilman who doesn't respect all people the same doesn't deserve to lead.

Jude shakes your arm as people lower their "vote for Kai" posters and start to whisper amongst themselves. When you turn back towards Kai, you see he's holding back a couple of men he had guarding the stage, from potentially dragging you away.

"Interesting accusation miss...?" "Y/N" "Miss Y/N."

Kai lets out a maniacal laugh, crossing his hands on the lectern and turning to face his currently discouraged people.

"My loyal followers: this random woman," he points towards you as you stand still arm and arm with Jude, "has no idea what she is talking about and frankly, does not seem fit to run for council. What kind of person makes that kind of claim with no evidence to support it? Would I lie to you all?"

The crowd picks up again, beginning to shout profanity at you as you stand there. You were almost cornered, if not for the gap between trees that allowed you and Jude to escape the angry wrath of the crowd. You ran and stopped in an alleyway, were you both tried to come down from the adrenaline.

"Y/N, you have really lost your fucking mind," Jude says, supporting her overturned body with her hands on her bent knees, trying to get back her breath.

"You'll see," you tell Jude, the same way Kai told you all those weeks ago, "it'll pay off in the end."

It may have been a waste of time trying to barge into Kai Anderson's campaign office, knowing that it would be heavily guarded by his henchmen. But with adrenaline still pumping inside you from the rally, it made it a little easier to race through town hall and end up in front of his office anyway. Just as you suspected, two tall men stood by the entryway, open carrying rifles and shooting daggers at you.

"I need to see Kai Anderson," you say suddenly, the men only laughing amongst themselves before they both reached out to grab you. You stepped away, holding your hands up by your face to show you weren't a real threat.

"Who is it?"

Kai opens the door and appears now with his hair down and his tie loose. When he recognises you, his eyes darken and his lips form into an angry scowl.

"What the fuck do you want?" he spits, standing with his arms crossed between his bodyguards.

"I want to talk to you, candidate to candidate," you say smoothly, crossing your arms to mimic him. His eyebrow cocks in curiosity, and he waves away his henchman.

"Come inside, miss Y/N," he greets you politely as he opens the door to let you inside his office. You brush passed him with a firm shoulder, immediately navigating the seat opposite his desk and sitting down. Kai scoffs at how comfortable you appear, but on the inside, he was intrigued by your confidence. No one had ever stood up to him the way you had or made such grandiose claims in front of such a big audience of people that they knew were going to be on his side. It was like, you didn't have any fear, the same way he did.

"Do you recognise me?" you ask him, looking down at your nails and picking under the skin with your thumb to seem disinterested.

Kai sinks into his office chair, pulling himself towards his desk to tuck his legs underneath, resting his chin in his hand supported by bent elbows. He analyses you, his eyes raking down from your face to your shoes, and when he's done, he shrugs his shoulders.

"You're that chick that was at Tom Chang's council meeting," he blinks, "that was real unfortunate, what happened to the guy I mean."

A devious smirk curls the corners of Kai's lips as you roll your eyes at him, knowing exactly what he did to Tom Chang based on the conversation you had.

"I know what you're playing at, and frankly it's sick and psychotic," you reveal to him, "you should've just been nice to me when I followed you out of town hall."

"What are you gonna do about it, as a woman, against me, an already powerful man," he already knew exactly how to push your buttons, but you didn't let him see how it really affected you. Instead, you smiled.

"Run against you of course, expose the real truth and win," you shrug your shoulders like it was no big deal, and Kai only lets out a laugh in response.

"Right so," Kai pushes himself up to stand by his hands, shrugging off his blazer and rolling his dress shirt up to the elbows. He wonders around his desk to you, who was still seated, frozen in place. Your mind raced with what he might do with you now that he'd gotten so close, that maybe your life could be in danger.

"You think, that without any substantial evidence, like I've said before, you're going to come out of nowhere," he stands so close to you that your knees were touching, "and beat me in this little election because what?" his hands wrap around the arm rests of your chair as he leans into you, "you think you can do better? A little college girl?"

Anger boils inside of you as you listen to his condescending words, your fists balling at your sides. He was just as insufferable as he was in and outside of town hall, and it just fuelled your drive to want to take him down.

“Fuck you Kai,” you seethe, before your anger boils over and you do something you never thought you would, spit in his face.

He closes his eyes, his jaw locked as he grinds his teeth. Your hands come up to cover your mouth, shocked that you’d actually just done that. It wasn’t like you to show your aggression in ways other than just yelling.

Your eyes widen and a gasp escapes your lips as his hand comes up to wrap around your throat, his fingers tightening on the skin on your neck. He pulls you to stand, and you were too startled to utter another word.

“Not so brave now are we, little girl?” He says with another laugh, his other hand finding your hip, his fingers squeezing tightly. You were in utter shock at how he’d just grabbed you, and completely disgusted by his behaviour. His face was so close to yours, you could smell the mint on his breath as it fanned your face.

“Nothing else to say?” He asks, your face going pale and your heart hammering in your chest. You stared closely at his face, noticing the freckle on the end of his nose, and his pink lips as they curled into a smirk. He was devilishly attractive, and suddenly your shock turned into a pool in your panties. What the fuck was wrong with you right now? You could easily just bring your knee up to hit him in the balls, but your body wouldn’t let you. You were liking this.

His hand moves from your hip and down the front of your pants, until his fingertips were inside your panties, rubbing against your clit. You let out another gasp, as he lets you breathe, before his hand returns to hold your throat.

“You’re just like all the other women in this world- just need to be grabbed by the pussy and led,” he lets out a soft groan, his lips against yours as your eyes shut in pleasure. You lean forward, your head resting on his broad shoulder, as his fingers continue to toy with your sensitive bundle of nerves. His finger slips between your slick folds, marvelling in the feeling of your warm arousal. He sinks a middle finger knuckle deep inside you, and the first animalistic moan escapes your lips. Stuck in a euphoric state, you clench at his shoulders, as he works his finger inside you, his thumb applying pressure back on your clit. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, or maybe it was adrenaline, but you already felt close to your release.

“That’s it, relax into me. I have the power,” Kai whispers in your ear, beginning to pepper kisses down the side of your neck, before licking a stripe back up to your ear, “like putty in my hands, such a little slut.”

“Kai,” his name rolled off your lips like it never has before, full of lust and need. He hummed back at you, smiling against your skin as he sunk his teeth into it. He bit down so softly and sensually, that it made you roll your head back to give him better access to your neck.

His hand came up from your neck to your chin, gripping it in his fingers, before he connected his lips to yours. The kiss was so passionate that you were seeing stars behind your closed eyelids. His finger only picked up pace inside you, his finger curling to meet with your sweet spot. His tongue invaded your mouth, muting your moans as they tried to leave your parted lips. You knew you were going to cum, and just like that you did, your thighs quivering around his hand as you rode out your orgasm.

Kai’s lips left yours, his fingers abandoning your panties, and soon he was standing a feet away from you. In utter shock and disbelief, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth and tasted you.

“I just love the taste of a weak woman,” he smiled at you, popping his fingers from his hollowed cheeks and waving at you.

“I-” no words came out, as you gathered yourself, standing up and turning to leave.

“Good luck, fellow candidate,” he called out after you as you scrambled out of his office, pushing passed his henchmen and tears falling from your eyes as you exited town hall.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Jude was waiting outside for you, and followed you down the sidewalk as you paced to your car, so ashamed for what just happened. How could you have let your worst enemy have that kind of affect on you? And to be degraded like that, why did it get you so hot?

Jude sat in the passenger seat as you started the car, not speaking as you drove off, wiping your eyes as tears continued to fall.

“Y/N! Do you need me to drive, holy shit, what the fuck happened?”

“Nothing Jude,” you replied, “we just need to take him down.”

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Readalong. Book Two, Chapter XXIII:

For the first time in this novel where any place can suddenly become a prison*, we enter the first tangible, actual jail in the novel, and it's none other than the Bastille.

*I believe Proust ironized about noblemen becoming the hosts of whichever place they were in. In Borel’s novel, they are imbued with the alchemic power of transforming any place into a jail whether they own it or not.

J.M.W.Turner, Lecture Diagram 75: Interior of a Prison c.1810 based on an etching from Piranesi’s Prima Parte de Architettura e Prospettiva (1743, pl.2)

We follow Patrick, armed with Pompadour’s letter, into the building. Borel compares it with a beast. Patrick is entering its belly to rescue an already semi digested Fitz-Harris. The jail itself is alive, slowly ruminating on and digesting its prisoners in its gut-like cells. The Bastille is a stone bull, a lot like Phalaris’ Bronze Bull, the narrator remarks. This was a terrifying torture device from ancient Greece, the neoclassicists’ model of rationality and measure, imposing the style in repressive official art (for example see Auguste Préault’s Tuerie: a Romantic response to Triqueti’s La Loi vengeresse a previous and official neoclassical bas-relief)

I’d also say Borel is putting us in perspective with this example: it not only casts the horrors of the Bastille in a magnitude of excess worthy of a capricious, self-appointed tyrant from antiquity, it also shows us how this type of power abuse is not specific to a determinate place and time period (although this novel is very much about ancien régime and restoration era France), it has happened in ancient Greece, it has happened in 18th c France, whenever this abysmal power imbalance is allowed to exist these types of abuses will happen. Finally, the brazen bull is also a great metaphor: its acoustic design transformed the tyrant’s victims desperate cries into the bull’s mooing, a final insult to those dying in it, transformed into a gag or entertainment for the tyrant. (also worth noting, Phalaris was established in what now is Agrigento, Sicily, a colony of Greece, coexisting with democratic Athens)(Phalaris was also, like the French tyrants, finally overthrown by the native population, and some say, roasted inside his own bull)(it is a VERY relevant comparison, on so many levels)

It’s also interesting to note how abstract Borel is keeping France’s most iconic prison. Most of his readers would have had a mental image of it I suppose. But think of how precise Balzac gets when depicting the Concièrgerie (or Hugo in his Choses vues, or Dumas with the Château d’If in Montecristo) it’s almost as if Borel, for now at least, is not interested in documentation of a precise space, we are allowed to imagine any prison, we are allowed to go full Piranesi here. [Insert your mental image of an ancien régime prison here] in lieu of ancien régime France’s most iconic prison, because, maybe its horrors exceed a concrete time and space, specific as they are.

We do see the vault Fitz-Harris is locked in, in its tangible side: a dreadful place where you can barely stand upright, humid, dark, freezing; as well as in its psychological dimension, the effect it has had on Fitz-Harris, how different he sounds now, no more cheerfully mean spirited “monomania of speech”. After weeks of sensory deprivation and immobility, probably half starved as well, he’s grown completely paranoid and afraid of his own shadow. He has probably been hallucinating before, since he thinks Patrick is imaginary too, he also fails to react to the sound of his cell’s door opening.

Fitz-Harris’ monomania of speech is not entirely gone, he cannot help and call Pompadour “—L’infâme! La Putiphar!” right within the guards’ earshot. Patrick grows understandably anxious....

(Interestinly Patrick, a relatively recently emigrated man, knows the Bastille by reputation, he mentions in reference to Fitz-Harris’ anti Pompadour outburst, something called citerne-aux-oublis, a place he says, prisoners were thrown into for harsh(er) punishment. I tried looking this up on Borel’s Bastille related sources but had no luck with the exact words or synonyms I could think of... It is possible Borel is referring to the apparently famous “oubliettes” of the Bastille?

“M. Viollet-le-Duc has assured us, quite gravely, that the famed oubliettes (the bottoms of which were shaped like sugar loaves, so that prisoners might have no resting-place for their feet) were merely ice-houses! It is not denied that these cells existed, and those who care to believe that a Mediæval architect built them under the towers of the Bastille as store-chambers for ice to cool the governor's or the prisoners' wine, are entirely welcome to do so. These were amongst the places of torment in which Louis XI. kept the Armagnac princes, who were taken out twice a week to be scourged in the presence of Governor l'Huillier, and "every three months to have a tooth pulled out."

From The Dungeons of Old Paris, by Tighe Hopkins.

Violet-le-Duc’s drawing of the vaults, and explanation of its origin as ice storage here

Whether he means that or something else, it speaks of the Bastille’s infamy as a symbol of terror, mentally torturing the general population in an attempt to keep them in line out of fear.)

Fitz-Harris, maybe out of prison instilled paranoia, or maybe just projecting his own faults into others, thinks this is a trap, Patrick is lying, he falsely claims he is pardoned, but Patrick is actually leading him to his execution. He still follows, because he has to prove he’s not a coward. (this reminds me of the duel and how differently they both understood masculinity and honour... more on that very soon, in a shocking reveal about Pat’s character)

This routine of Patrick begging for FH to follow him, and the prisoner refusing to be set free is pretty interesting.... there’s something Plato’s Cavern to be said about it, surely. However terrible the conditions, a routine is a routine, sudden change is more scary than quotidian incarceration. It is uncertain and stable at the same time (trying to put myself in the shoes of a person who could barely see his surroundings, calculating the passage of time by the irruptions of the guards, once you realize you’re not being moved I imagine you grow calm because it means you get to live, since any abrupt change is seen by Fitz-Harris as the possibility of execution)

However, as F-H is not as far gone yet as to be unable to notice that he is in fact, being released, showers Patrick in praise, abases himself, swears to change for good and live to “earn” Patrick’s friendship, which he has without having really deserved it. But Patrick reveals a dark side to what we before though was his Christlike behaviour. He confesses a rather perverse pleasure in subjugating the one who hated him so much by making him thankful. His revenge is simply not won by the force of an iron blade, but it is a much crueller revenge, he says. Patrick is less of a saint, less of a Christ intuiting virtues in his potential apostles than what we had been led to think before. He of course has never shared this secret source of pleasure to Debby, not even when she thought him mad and too good for this world for helping Fitz-Harris...

(i am including Fitz-Harris’ previous phrase, I bolded a part that seems like it will be relevant in the future, translation by @sainteverge )

“Apologies, apologies for the all the harm I have done to you! My entire life shall henceforth be entirely dedicated to cleansing myself of my crimes towards you. I shall do everything to be worthy of your esteem; for he whom you esteem must be esteemed by God. As for your friendship, do not ever give it back to me, it would be to profane it! Keep it for hearts righter than mine. Oh! you have my eternal gratitude!” “Fitz-Harris, no gratitude. You owe me nothing, I told you I do not avenge myself with a blade; but I did not tell you that I am not capable of revenge; therefore here is mine: a good deed for an insult. This one is more cruel, I think, than the blade, what say you? to force someone who hates you to bless you, despite himself, in the depth of his conscience; to force a man to blush, to die of shame before his fellowman; that is, if I’m not wrong, a revenge! What say you, Fitz-Harris? We are even, I believe?”

I for one, did not expect this from Patrick... his revenge is still, killing them with kindness in a way... but there’s something about his choice of word that is sensuous and almost cruel, that reveals a vanity, and a perverse relishing in other’s subjugation that is surprising from him. He seemed exceedingly good, and it’s interesting for borel to suddenly introduce this mildly sadistic streak in him.

We are denied Fitz-Harris' reaction, but I bet he was surprised himself.