#you have no clue how much this means to me and how needed it was
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kathaynesart · 1 day ago
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And here we go. For the full experience I would recommend reading while listening to THIS SONG. It inspired a vast majority of the scene as well as the timing, though I fear you'd have to read pretty fast to get to the ending at the same time as the song ends, so uh... good luck! Trigger warnings below:
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The Day the Sky Bled Red
BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT (SOON) MASTER POST
Whew. I'm so glad to finally be done with these big updates. After over a year I will finally be able to return to my smaller update format.
Some keen viewers might notice the reuse of certain shots from the series. There is very much intentional, though the reason for this will not be made clear until the ending of the arc.
As of the final shot we are FINALLY back to present-day in the Replica timeline (if it wasn't obvious). I'd drop in a timeline for reference but uh... I maxed out on the Tumblr images. Oh well. Hopefully the context clues were enough to help though!
I do want to take a moment to TED Talk about Raph's ninpo, if that's alright. Unlike his brothers, Raph didn't really spend much time trying to come up with unique ways of using his abilities. Why improve what already worked for him? However, I do think one interesting ability could have come naturally to him over time. I always found his way of mentally connecting with his brothers as "Mind Raph" to be a fascinating joke in the series. They way he could help and communicate with his brothers is something that was always really important to him and I see that ability bleeding into his ninpo. Because of this I feel that his Raph clones were always able to find and reach his brothers no matter the distance. His ability to interact with them at the same time was something he was still learning in the series, like when Mind Raph apologized to Leo for taking a moment too long to respond because he was busy helping someone else. Because of this I see his clones being able to react and communicate independently (kind of like Naruto clones), but are in constant connection to the original source, Raph himself. This made it really easy for Raph to relay information to the brothers, though it was seldom needed since Donnie's ninpo tech normally had that covered. On another note, I also wanted to make a point that whenever one of the brothers died in the bad future timeline, it was when they were separated from their brothers. I always liked in the movie how it wasn't until the brothers worked together that they were able to regain their abilities, confront the Krang, and even open portals to different dimensions. I wanted that lesson to resonate in Replica as well, even if subtly. Anyways, thanks for coming to my TED Talk!
The rest of the arc will be a lot less action, but still plenty more emotions. I can't promise that we won't be doing more flashbacks in the future but nothing to the extent of the "Holiday Special." We got a story to get through after all!
Thank you so much everyone for your patience with me as I slowly inch my way through this big story. It means a lot to me! I promise the next update will not be so emotionally draining.
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joemama-2 · 2 hours ago
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velvet lies
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pairing: gojo x fem reader
synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 16.7k
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation
series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter < spotify playlist
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Who needs enemies when you have people like a shitty landlord, an evil woman who calls herself Satoru’s “girlfriend”, and of course—a deadbeat, horrible mother. A mother who cares more about herself than the baby she carried for nine months, the one who didn’t care whether you heard about her “special activities” that took place late at night when she thought you were sleeping, a mother who values materialistic things more than family. The kind of mother who’s holding onto you for dear life like you’ve just come back from the army. You feel completely disgusted, utterly infuriated by the act she’s putting on. You wish you had the strength to push her off immediately, but it seems that even time can’t heal certain wounds. 
How annoying.
“I missed you so much, baby girl,” your mother says, rubbing your arms up and down in what you assume is supposed to be a comforting manner. “What have you been up to? Oh, you’ve grown so big! I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes drift over to your right, landing first on Satoru. The tick in her jaw is unmistakable. And when she looks down at the much younger boy, blinking his wide eyes up at her curiously, you of all people know best she’s this close to lashing out. Her smile dampens, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.
As if on cue, you bring Koji behind your back. When she peers up at you, lip curling in preparation for a tiny scoff, Satoru steps in front of you. 
His presence is an like immovable wall, his towering frame casting a long shadow over your mother. You don’t even need to see his face to know the expression he’s wearing—sharp, unamused, and carrying that thinly veiled amusement that only makes him more infuriating to people like her. “Ah, so you do remember me,” Satoru drawls, his tone bordering on mockery. “Was starting to think you might’ve conveniently forgotten.”
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Your mother’s nostrils flare. “Of course, I remember you,” she says, voice sickly sweet, but there’s an underlying venom in it, a warning that you know all too well. “How could I forget you? But I’m not here for the likes of you.”
You bite your tongue, fingers twitching at Koji’s small body pressed behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know he’s peering around your waist, big blue eyes filled with confusion. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and doesn’t recognize the tension seeping into the air like a poisonous fog. And you want it to stay that way. “Why are you here?” you ask, keeping your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.
Your mother’s eyes flick back to you, sidestepping slightly, and for a split second, something ugly flashes across her face—resentment, bitterness, something you’ve been familiar with since childhood. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by a saccharine smile that makes your skin crawl. “Can’t a mother come to see her daughter after all these years?” she says, feigning hurt. “I just— I missed you, baby. I wanted to make things right.”
A cold laugh bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down. You don’t believe her. Not for a second.
Satoru scoffs, shifting on his feet as he crosses his arms. “Right. And I’m the tooth fairy.”
The air around you feels tight, suffocating like a noose slowly constricting around your neck. You can feel the weight of the past pressing down on you, every horrible memory clawing its way back up, threatening to drown you. She doesn’t get to do this. She doesn’t get to waltz back into your life like she’s entitled to it. “I don’t have time for this,” you say, finally finding your voice. You shift Koji further behind you, fingers tightening around his small hand. “You need to leave.”
Her smile wavers, her perfectly painted lips twitching at the edges. “Baby—”
“Don’t call me that.”
The words come out sharper than you intended, but you don’t regret them. Not when her expression finally cracks, revealing the ugly truth beneath.
For a second, just a second, she looks like she might actually argue. Like she might lash out the way she used to when you were younger—when she’d lose her temper and hurl words like daggers, words meant to make you feel small, to break you. But she holds it all within a facade, eyebrows simply raising as a chuckle of disbelief leaves her lips. “Oh, so…this is how you’ve become all these years while I wasn’t around? First, you’re pushing me away, and second, you’re doing it for what? For…this?” She gestures to the three of you in a lazy manner. “Plus, I get to meet my grandson, do I not? That’s one of the privileges of being a grandmother.” The word leaves a bad taste in her mouth like she can’t fathom the fact that she is indeed one.
You feel your stomach churn, bile rising in your throat. Grandmother. The word sounds wrong coming from her like it doesn’t belong—like it should disintegrate the moment it leaves her lips. Your grip on Koji tightens, and you feel him shift slightly behind you. He doesn’t understand the reality of what’s happening, but he senses it—how the air is heavier, how your body is tenser.
Satoru, beside you, lets out a low, amused hum. “Privilege?” he echoes, tilting his head as if the word itself is funny. “You think being a grandmother is a privilege you’re just automatically entitled to?”
Haruka’s lips press into a thin line, her fingers twitching as she folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t see why not,” she says coolly. “Blood is blood. Family is family.”
You scoff, the sound dry and bitter. “That’s rich, coming from you.” She narrows her eyes, but you don’t stop. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you have some sort of claim over my son and I,” you say, voice unwavering despite the storm inside you. “You lost the right to be my family a long time ago.”
Her nostrils flare slightly, but she doesn’t lash out, doesn’t throw the fit you know is bubbling under her carefully constructed mask. Instead, she exhales slowly through her nose, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I see,” she murmurs. “So you’ve been brainwashed.” Her gaze flickers to Satoru, mirth pooling in her eyes. “By him.”
Satoru actually laughs. A full, genuine laugh like she’s just told him the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, that’s good,” he muses. “That’s real good.” Then, his laughter fades, replaced by something much sharper, much colder. “Hate to break it to you, lady, but your daughter has a brain of her own. And she knows exactly who’s worth keeping in her life.”
Your mother’s jaw tightens and it looks like she might slap him. But then her gaze falls back on you, assessing, calculating. You brace yourself for whatever she’s about to say, but somehow, it still knocks the air from your lungs. “You think you’re any better than me?” she asks, voice laced with condescension. “You think just because you ran away, just because you played house with him, that you’re suddenly the perfect little mother? Sweetheart, you are me. You’ll see that soon enough.”
But you won’t let her win. Not this time. Your fingers tighten around Koji’s, grounding yourself, and when you speak, your voice is unwavering.
“The difference between us,” you say slowly, deliberately, “is that I would never do to my son what you did to me.”
A flicker of something—shock?—crosses her face. Then, she steps back, smoothing a hand over her coat like she’s wiping something unpleasant off of her.
“Well.” Her tone is clipped, her posture stiff. “I suppose we’ll just have to see about that.”
“I’m no—”
“But look at this!” Her arms widen as she steps back, a dramatic sweep of her gaze taking in the lingering eyes and hushed whispers of the other families. Some look away quickly, feigning disinterest, while others openly stare, their curiosity outweighing their manners. You swallow hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. The attention prickles against your skin like a thousand tiny needles, suffocating and unrelenting. “It’s truly such a picture-perfect scene,” your mother continues, her voice dripping with mockery. “A loving man, a beautiful child, and you, playing the devoted mother.” She tilts her head, eyes gleaming with something cruel. “Tell me, do you ever stop to wonder when it’ll all fall apart?”
Satoru shifts beside you, his jaw tightening. You can feel the protective energy radiating off of him, the way he’s this close to stepping in and shutting her down. But you don’t want him to—not yet.
Because she’s wrong.
Because she doesn’t get to do this. Not anymore.
You take a deep breath, straightening your spine. “You don’t know anything about my life,” you say, voice steady despite the fire burning in your chest. “And you sure as hell don’t get to stand here and act like you do.”
Your mother clicks her tongue, unimpressed. “I know enough,” she muses, her gaze flicking back to Koji. You immediately shift, shielding him with your body.
Her lips curl into a smirk. “You can try to keep him away from me all you want. But at the end of the day, you’ll realize that blood isn’t something you can run from. Besides Y/N, I still love you, I always have and always will.”
The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
Koji, sensing the tension, clings to your leg, small fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. You don’t dare look down at him, don’t want to acknowledge just how much of this he’s absorbing. Satoru exhales sharply, patience finally wearing thin. “I think we’re done here,” he says, voice clipped, his hand resting firmly on your lower back. A quiet but undeniable claim. “Let’s go.”
Without another word, he’s ushering you and Koji to his car, pushing past your mother who stumbles back a bit on her two feet. She scoffs and stares daggers into your heads, but neither you nor Satoru look back. Wordlessly, he’s opening the passenger door for you, opening the back for Koji, and helping him get into his booster seat. He closes both doors with finality, rounding the car and going to the driver’s side. Before he opens it, he looks back over at Haruka. “You stay away from all of us. I have a good set of lawyers.”
“Is that a threat?” She calls out.
“It’s a promise,” is all he says before getting in and shutting the door. He’s quickly starting the car and driving you both away from the mess your mother’s arrival had made. Quiet envelops the interior of the car. Koji peering at his father and then you, biting his lip and swinging his feet back and forth in an antsy way. “Mama, why did the woman look like you? Is she grandma?”
But you don’t say anything. Focusing on the loose thread of your coat sleeve, fingers clenched tightly. Your body is stiff as a board like it’s anticipating something. Satoru peeks at you from the corner of his eye and after he assesses you won’t be saying anything, he looks forward. “She is.”
Koji tilts his head, his brows furrowing in confusion. “But… you don’t like her?”
Still, you don’t answer. Your fingers curl around the loose thread, twisting it between your thumb and forefinger. Your pulse is loud in your ears, drowning out the steady hum of the engine.
Satoru’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “No,” he says simply. “Mama doesn’t.”
Koji goes quiet for a moment, digesting the information in his small way. Then, with the kind of innocence only a child could possess, he mumbles, “Then I don’t like her either.”
Something inside you clenches painfully, but still, you can’t bring yourself to say anything.
Satoru sighs, reaching out with one hand to gently squeeze your thigh, fingers firm but reassuring. It’s not much, but it’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you’re here, in the present—not trapped in memories you don’t want to relive. “She’s not gonna bother us,” Satoru murmurs, eyes flicking toward you again. “I won’t let her.”
You want to believe him.
You need to believe him.
But as the car speeds down the road, your heart tells you otherwise. Your mother never shows up without a reason. And whatever she wants this time…
It won’t be simple.
“I…I don’t know what she could possibly want from me,” you mutter shakily, face screwing up at the familiar burn of tears at your eyelids. 
“Don’t worry about that, don’t worry about anything. She’s not going to bother you and if she does, I’m right here.” His thumbs are small, soft back and forth motions on your thigh. The gesture brings you a tiny sense of serenity. In other circumstances, you would’ve pushed him away and told him not to do that anymore. However, you find yourself doing the opposite. Dwelling in his touch, hesitantly putting your hand on top of the back of his. His palm turns upright and carefully intertwines your fingers with his. 
Your heart does somersaults. 
He brings your hand up over to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “She’s wrong, you know,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, meant only for you.
You gulp. “...about what?”
“Everything.” 
The word lingers between you, settling into the silence like a whisper of reassurance, a promise unspoken yet deeply felt.
Everything.
That you’re like her. That you’ll turn into her. That you’re anything less than the mother Koji deserves, the woman he—Satoru—still sees beneath all the walls you’ve built. Your fingers twitch against his, gripping just a little tighter. The warmth of his hand is grounding, pulling you away from the storm inside your head. You inhale slowly, trying to steady your trembling chest, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. Your head turns towards the window, biting down on a quivering lip as the car comes to a halt at a red light.
Koji—truly unaware of the depth of the moment passing between his parents, but still trying to integrate himself somehow. “Papa, are we going home?”
Satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you when he answers.
“Yeah, kid,” he says, squeezing your hand. “We’re going home.”
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“This is my son, Satoru.” Yamato’s voice greets the pair of father and son as they enter the conference room. They shake hands and Yamato sits back down next to Satoru, who’s currently leaning back in his seat with a blank look, swiveling from side to side. Yamato nudges his son’s foot under the table in silent command.
“Nice to meet you,” Satoru says, still not rising from his seat.
“Nice to meet you, this is my daughter, Himari.”
Kenji ushers his daughter to sit down next to him, both of them across from Yamato and Satoru. Already, he’s dreading this. In typical boy nature, his eyes rake up and down the girl sending him a coy smile, biting the inside of his cheek in confliction. Sure, she’s pretty. Brown hair, pretty brown eyes, a slender figure, a nice glow to her complexion. But she’s not you. It’s only been a year and a half and Satoru still can’t rid his mind of you. Certain scents, music, and places, they all remind him of you. He’s not sure if he hates it. His father, ever the businessman, has sprouted the seed in his ear about him moving on and that his “friend’s” daughter is single. He always brushed him off, but of course, he can’t run away from his duties forever. 
Her lips don’t even look twice as delicious as yours did. 
Still, Satoru plasters on a charming—if not slightly detached—smile as Himari tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, feigning shyness. He knows this game, knows the expectations that sit heavily between their fathers, silent yet thunderous. Himari tilts her head slightly, watching him with interest. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Satoru,” she says smoothly, her voice pleasant but calculated. “Our fathers talk about you a lot.”
Satoru leans back further in his chair, legs spreading just enough to make himself comfortable but not enough to look sloppy. His father would kill him for that. “All good things, I hope.”
Kenji lets out a good-natured chuckle. “Of course. Himari’s been quite interested in meeting you, you know.”
“Oh?” His gaze flickers to her, catching the way she twirls a ring around her finger. Flirtation, subtle and practiced.
He can already tell what this is—what they expect. A business transaction wrapped in tradition and expectation, sealed with marriage papers. A pretty wife from a good family, one that would benefit them both. But Satoru has never been one to follow a script. His mind drifts, unbidden, to you. To how you never needed to be calculated to get his attention, to how your laughter wasn’t poised but effortless, how you never looked at him with an agenda, only with love. That’s what’s missing here. That’s why his chest feels tight, why the scent of jasmine perfume instead of your lingering marshmallow, floraly makes his stomach churn. Because no matter how pretty Himari is, no matter how perfectly poised she sits across from him, she isn’t you.
And she never will be.
The rest of the conversation flowed in one ear and out the other. The only thing keeping him somewhat grounded to Earth was the feel of her foot playfully caressing his leg up and down under the table. The first time it happened, he cleared his throat in awkwardness, shifting in his seat in hopes she’d get the memo. Instead, she only moves her chair closer to the table, extending her leg out slightly more. Yep, pushy.
“....as I was saying before, Yamato. Tenka Couture can give the Gojo Group exactly what they need. We can help you expand into the fashion and entertainment markets. Even international ones. Together, we can both strive globally.”
Kenji's voice carries on, confident and smooth, but Satoru barely registers a word. His fingers drum against the polished mahogany table, his expression unreadable as he feels Himari's foot trail further up his leg. He exhales sharply through his nose, schooling his face into neutrality. If his father notices his discomfort, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Yamato is far too focused on the conversation at hand, nodding along as Kenji lists off strategic benefits, figures, and projections. Satoru flicks a glance at Himari. She’s watching him through her lashes, lips curled into a knowing smirk. She’s enjoying this—enjoying testing him, enjoying the idea that she has any sort of power over him.
It grates on his nerves.
His mind drifts again.
Would you have done this? No—definitely not like this. You were never one for games, never one to wrap yourself in artifice. When you touched him, it wasn’t planned. It was because you wanted to. Because you loved him. And yet, here he is, sitting across from someone who doesn’t even know him, who only wants what he represents.
He sighs, his patience wearing thin. “Sounds like a great deal,” Yamato replies, leaning forward. “But tell me, Kenji—what exactly is the catch?”
“Well,” Kenji chuckles and laces his fingers together. “Of course, I believe the best way to go about this is through our children. Although I know this is the modern era and I don’t wish to put a rush on things, I think it would be best if my lovely daughter married within at least…ten years. It gives them enough time to get acquainted with one another, and us enough time to grow closer as businesses.” 
Satoru feels his stomach turn. Marriage. Of course, that’s what this is really about. It was never just about business—it was about leverage. About power. About cementing alliances in the most permanent way possible. His grip tightens on the armrest of his chair, fingers digging into the fabric. Himari’s smirk only widens, like she’s already won, like she knows he won’t fight it.
Because what choice does he have?
Yamato doesn’t even hesitate. “That’s a reasonable timeline,” he muses, nodding. “It allows them to build a solid foundation, get used to each other. I think it’s a wise decision. But if you don’t keep up your end of this deal, there will be consequences.”
Satoru’s jaw ticks. Ten years. Ten years of forced interactions, of pretending, of playing the role his father expects of him. Ten years of being bound to someone who is nothing more than a stranger. Ten years without you. Kenji leans back in his chair, satisfied. “Of course, it’s all up to them in the end. But I trust that with time, they’ll see the benefits of this arrangement.”
Himari finally pulls her foot away from his leg, but the ghost of her touch lingers like an itch he can’t scratch. Satoru exhales slowly, forcing himself to stay composed. He knows how this game works. Knows his father expects compliance, and knows he has to play along—for now. But deep down, something in him burns. Because you’re still out there. Because despite everything, despite time and distance, he knows exactly who he wants.
And it isn’t her.
But despite everything, he found himself wrapped in her sheets exactly one week from the dreaded meeting. The sex was okay, but he couldn’t stop your face. The days passed on in a slow manner, and over that course, he was slowly beginning to heal from you and your guys’ relationship. He stopped feeling guilty for being intimate with another woman and he was able to visit that cute cafe you loved so much without feeling nauseous as soon as he stepped in. However, he didn’t even actually make it official with Himari until he just turned 27. 
He remembers a conversation with Himari. 
“I want a lot of children.”
Satoru had merely hummed in response, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he leaned back into the plush seat of the lounge they were in. It was late, the warm glow of the ambient lighting casting soft shadows over Himari’s face. She looked expectant, eyes searching his for a reaction.
“You do?” he finally said, taking a slow sip.
“Yes,” she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “At least three or four. I want a big family.”
He glanced at her over the rim of his glass, expression unreadable.
“I just think it’s important, you know? Family. My parents worked so hard to build what we have, and I want to continue that. Raise my children in a secure environment, with traditions, stability…” She paused, tilting her head. “Don’t you?”
Satoru’s grip on his glass tightened.
Once upon a time, he might have said yes. Might have dreamed about what it would be like to have a family of his own. But that was before. Before he learned that love wasn’t enough to keep someone from leaving. Before he learned that no matter how tightly he held onto something, it could still slip through his fingers. Back then, he had imagined forever with someone.
Now, he wasn’t sure he even believed in the word.
So instead, he just offered a half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, swirling the last remnants of his drink. “That sounds nice.” Himari beamed, satisfied, but Satoru only glanced away, gaze settling on the ice melting in his glass.
He’s always thought back to that conversation. Did he want kids? Did he want a big family? Hell, he doesn’t even know. 
But now, as he watches you and his only son curled up on the couch together, holding each other as you both sleep peacefully. He can still make out the redness around your eyes from your earlier crying session while Koji was busy playing with his toys. Comforting you felt easy to him—like second nature. And you welcomed his words, his hug, even the very small, faint kiss he planted on your temple. 
He feels a little bit like a creep just watching you guys sleep. But now, the answer has come to him. 
He wants a big family with you. He’ll quite literally die from happiness overload if you have more of his kids. Maybe the next one will look more like you?
His face scrunches up, holding his chest and falling back onto the free cushion of the couch. It feels like his heart is being squeezed, in a good and bad way—like something warm and unbearable all at once. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling slowly through his nose. It’s stupid to never realize just how much he’s always wanted this. A family. A home. Something real, something his. And now that he knows it’s possible, now that he has Koji, has you back in his life in some fragile, complicated way, the thought of losing it again makes his stomach twist.
He turns his head, watching the slow, even rise and fall of your breaths. Koji is nestled against you, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. His son. His.
Satoru lifts a hand to his chest, pressing his palm over the ache. He thinks of all the years he missed, all the moments he could have had. First words, first steps, birthdays, bedtime stories—things that should have been his to witness. He should be angry. Maybe he still is. But right now, he just feels...overwhelmed.
A soft noise leaves your lips as you shift slightly in your sleep, your brow twitching like you’re dreaming. Without thinking, he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger a second too long before he pulls back, swallowing hard.
God, he’s so fucked.
Because now that he knows what he wants—now that he knows he wants this family with you—he has no idea how to keep it. Or if you even feel the same way. But the way your face relaxes ever so slightly, subconsciously leaning into his touch, he starts to believe that he may not be the only one.
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“So, are you going to be putting your two weeks in?”
“What? I mean, I haven’t been looking at other jobs yet.”
Hana hums silently, cleaning the counter. Your brows furrow in confusion at her behavior. She’s not being outwardly rude, but you can sense something is still on her mind. “You’re not…upset I’m moving, are you? We talked about this.”
Hana lets out a soft sigh, setting the cloth down before turning to face you fully. “I know we did,” she says, crossing her arms. “But talking about it and actually seeing it happen are two different things, you know?”
You tilt your head, watching her carefully. “I thought you were happy for me.”
“I am,” she insists, but there’s something tight about the way she says it. “It’s just… you’re really leaving. And I guess I thought—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
Your frown deepens. “Hana.”
She exhales through her nose, looking away. “It’s just… I thought you’d maybe consider staying. That something—someone—would make you stay.”
Your stomach twists. You don’t need her to say who she’s talking about. “Hana…”
She waves a hand, forcing a smile. “Forget it. It’s your choice. I just— I’m gonna miss you, that’s all.”
A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down, managing a small smile. “I’m gonna miss you too. We’ll still stay in touch, even after I find a job out there, I promise.” Your arms encircle her waist in a hug, to which she reciprocates. 
“I know,” she murmurs, squeezing you tightly. “But it won’t be the same.”
You rest your chin on her shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla that clings to her. “Nothing stays the same forever, Hana.”
She huffs a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, yeah. Look at you, all wise and mature now.”
You roll your eyes, nudging her playfully. “I’ve always been wise. You just refused to acknowledge it.”
Hana smirks. “Sure, sure. Just don’t forget about me when you’re off living your new fancy life.”
“Never.” You say it with conviction, and you mean it. No matter what changes, she’ll always be a part of your life. 
Hana studies your face for a moment before sighing. “Alright, enough of this sentimental crap. Let’s finish cleaning up before we open.” You laugh, but as you turn back to your task, you can’t help but feel the weight of her words settle deep in your chest.
You grab a rag to clean up the tables, but just as you do so, Hana’s phone that was laying up right near the register dings with a text message. You glance over carelessly, the ping catching your attention. But what you didn’t expect to see was someone’s name that sends bolts of frustration up your body. Brows knitting in the middle with your lip down turning. You lean forward to get a closer look, but the phone is being snatched from your vision. Looking up, Hana’s face has contorted into what you can assume is guilt, shoving the device in her back pocket. A moment of silence passes between you two.
“....Hana, why the fuck are you still texting Naoya?”
Hana stiffens, her fingers tightening around the rag in her hands. “It’s not what you think,” she mutters, turning away to wipe down the counter with unnecessary force.
Your stomach twists. “Not what I think?” You let out a humorless laugh. “Hana, I thought we agreed—no, you agreed—that he was bad news. That you were done with him.”
She exhales sharply, still avoiding your eyes. “I was done. I am done.”
“Bullshit.” You toss your rag onto the nearest table and cross your arms. “If you were done, you wouldn’t be hiding your phone from me like a guilty teenager.”
She finally looks at you, jaw tight. “It’s not that simple.”
Your patience is wearing thin. “It is that simple. You cut him off, like you said you would. You don’t let him manipulate you again, Hana. You don’t let him back in.”
She flinches at your words, and for a moment, you see the conflict flash across her face. Then, just as quickly, she schools her expression into something neutral, almost detached. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but this is my business. Not yours.”
You stare at her, feeling like you’ve just been slapped. “Not my business?” You shake your head in disbelief. “After everything he’s done? After how he treated you? You really think I’m just gonna stand here and pretend I don’t care? He left you to the wolves shitfaced and let you almost do hard drugs, Hana.”
Her gaze drops, but she doesn’t respond.
“Hana,” you say, softer this time. “Please. Tell me what’s going on.”
She hesitates, fingers curling at her sides. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she says, “He said he’s changed.”
Your breath catches. The frustration in your chest morphs into something heavier—something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Changed? You think a guy like that has changed within only a week or two?”
“He apologized, Y/N. He came over and—”
“You let him come over?” You scoff out in disbelief. 
Hana’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t meet your eyes. “It wasn’t like that. He just… showed up. He wanted to talk.”
“And you let him in?” Your voice rises despite yourself, frustration bubbling over. “After everything he put you through that night, you actually listened to him?”
Her shoulders stiffen. “People can change, Y/N.”
“Not him,” you say flatly. “Not Naoya. You know that. We talked about this.”
She exhales sharply, gripping the rag like it’s the only thing grounding her. “You don’t get it.”
“No, I do,” you counter. “I get it too well, Hana. Because I was there. I was the one picking up the pieces. And now you’re telling me that a few days is all it takes for him to be a better man?” Hana stays quiet, but you can see the cracks forming in her expression—the doubt, the guilt. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “Look, I love you. And I know it’s hard to walk away from someone like him. But he hasn’t changed. He’s just found a new way to manipulate you. I don’t want you going through something like that again.”
Her lip trembles, and for a second, you think she might break. But then she forces out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “You always think you know what’s best for me, don’t you?”
You stare at her, caught off guard. “That’s not what this is about—”
“Isn’t it?” She meets your gaze now, eyes flashing. “You can’t control me, Y/N. I’m not some helpless kid who needs saving.”
Your heart sinks. “I’m not trying to control you, Hana. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
She swallows hard, looking away. “I can handle myself.”
“Yes, you can. But I’m your friend, that’s what friends are for.”
“Are you my friend, Y/N?” She huffs out, throwing the rag on the counter and crossing her arms. “Because from what I see, it’s kind of hard to believe that. You rarely like coming out with me anymore, you take days to respond to my texts, and I only see you at work.”
Your jaw grits, putting your rag down. “It’s not like that. You know I’m busy with Koji, with Satoru, with everything. I’m trying to be here for you in every way that I can be.”
Hana scoffs, shaking her head. “Right. And somehow, ‘being here for me’ means judging me every time I make a decision you don’t like?”
Your chest tightens. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” She throws her hands up. “I get it, Y/N. You have a whole life outside of this job—outside of me. And I’ve tried to be okay with it, I really have. But it just feels like… like I’m not a priority to you anymore.” Her words hit harder than you expect. You part your lips to argue, but nothing comes out. Because, deep down, you know she’s not entirely wrong. Hana exhales, her shoulders sagging. “I miss you, Y/N. And yeah, maybe Naoya isn’t the best decision. But at least he wants to be around me.”
That stings. More than it should. You run a hand through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts. “Hana…”
But she’s already turning away, grabbing the rag from the counter. “Forget it. We still have stuff to clean.”
The weight of it lingers as you watch her move away, your stomach twisting with something between guilt and frustration. But you’ve always been persistent. Your feet work with a mind of their own, following her to the section of booths in the corner. “Hana, stop this, okay?”
“Stop what?”
“Stop making stupid decisions, please.”
“So you can have a man who can give you anything under the sun, but when I do it, it’s wrong.”
You grab hold of her arm to stop her. “What the hell? Are you serious? Is that why you’re going after him? Because he has money. And Satoru and I aren’t even together, Hana. What are you talking about?”
“And so what if I’m doing it for the money?!” She yanks her arm back. “Why is it so fucking wrong of me to want security?”
“Because it’s shallow and not like you.”
Hana’s eyes flash with anger, and for a second, you think she’s going to snap. But instead, she takes a deep breath, clenching her jaw. “I’m not asking for your approval, Y/N. You’ve never understood me, and maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not the same person I used to be, but I’m doing what I think is best for me right now. You and Satoru have your perfect little world, but I don’t have that. I don’t even have my own damn apartment without scrambling for rent every month.”
Her words cut through the air, harsh and raw. You didn’t realize how much the frustration had been building for her until now. “I’m struggling too—”
“Not when you have a fucking billionaire baby daddy,” she swiftly interrupts you.
You feel a lump form in your throat, and the guilt from earlier rises again, twisting in your chest, biting your lip hard. "That's not fair, Hana. You know things aren’t perfect with him and me. You think just because things aren't goinging great for you, it's okay to throw everything you’ve built away for something that isn’t real?"
Hana exhales sharply, wiping her face with a frustrated hand. "You think I don’t know that? I’m just trying to survive, Y/N."
"Survive?" You step closer, your voice trembling. "You think this is survival? I’m not telling you what to do. But you're choosing him over us—over yourself. You know Naoya isn’t good for you. What happens when the money’s gone, or when he gets bored?"
Her eyes meet yours, hard and unflinching. "I don’t need your pity, okay? And I don’t need you to tell me what’s best for me. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
For a long, tense moment, the silence hangs heavy between you two. You want to keep fighting, to say something that’ll make her see reason, but you don’t know if it’s worth it anymore. She’s made up her mind. “Hana…” you start, but she cuts you off, her tone icy.
“Just drop it, okay? I’m not going to continue having this argument with you.”
Your heart aches, but you nod, stepping back slowly. She won’t listen to reason right now. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve been pushing too hard. “Fine,” you mutter, your voice smaller than you want it to be. “Do what you want.”
Her gaze softens for a split second, but then it’s gone, and she turns away, heading back to the counter. You’re left standing there, feeling the distance between you both grow. Your chest feels hollow like something inside you has cracked wide open, leaving behind an aching, empty space. The sting of her words lingers, each syllable embedding itself into your skin like tiny, invisible splinters. You shouldn’t be this hurt—you shouldn’t care this much. But you do. Because it’s Hana.
She’s been by your side for these couple of years, through every high and low, through every moment when you thought you’d collapse under the weight of everything. And now, she’s slipping through your fingers, walking a path you know will only lead to heartbreak. You can feel her pulling away, and the worst part? You don’t know how to stop it. Frustration curls in your stomach, hot and tight, twisting into something almost unbearable. You want to shake her, make her see that she’s making a mistake. But deep down, there’s something else gnawing at you, something ugly and uncomfortable—doubt.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe you don’t understand her. Maybe, in trying so hard to protect her, you’ve been pushing her away instead. The realization is bitter, and it tastes like loss. Your fingers curl into your palms as you watch her retreat, her shoulders tense, her posture stiff with unspoken words. You could call after her, one last attempt to fix this. But your throat feels tight, and your voice is nowhere to be found. So instead, you just stand there, watching her go. Watching the distance between you grow wider, wondering if you’ll ever be able to close it again.
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The rest of your shift had passed by with an awkward tenseness that even the other employees could notice. You clocked out without saying bye to Hana, heading home after calling off from your second job. You almost forgot you even invited Shoko over to help you pack until she rings your doorbell. Straightening yourself up, you push off the table and go to open the door. 
“Hey,” she greets, giving you a simple smile.
“Hey,” you reply back, stepping aside to let her in. A faint scent of cigarettes follows her inside as you close and lock the door. 
“So,” she begins, doing a small look around. “Where is he?”
You nod. “Koji! Come here, please!” A tiny pitter-patter of feet is heard, coming from his room and in front of you two. He looks up at Shoko, head tilting with curiosity. You crouch down to his height. “Koji, this my friend, Shoko.”
Koji blinks up at her, his big eyes studying her with an adorable mix of questioning and caution. He clutches the hem of his shirt, shifting on his feet as if trying to decide whether she’s someone worth trusting. Shoko, ever patient, crouches down a little and offers him a small, lazy wave. “Hey, kid,” she says, her tone light but warm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Koji doesn’t say anything right away, still watching her like he’s figuring something out. You can tell he’s analyzing her the way he does with new people—quiet, observant, waiting to see if she’s friend or foe. You smile, reaching out to smooth down his hair. “She’s really nice, baby,” you reassure him gently. “And she’s gonna help me pack today.”
His eyes flick between you and Shoko before he finally nods, accepting the introduction in his own quiet way. Then, after a moment, he shifts closer to you, pressing a small hand against your knee like he’s making sure you’re still there.
Shoko tilts her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “He’s a smart one,” she muses. “Doesn’t trust just anyone, huh?”
You chuckle softly. “Sometimes no. He takes a while to warm up to people.”
Koji stares at Shoko a little longer, then finally, with the tiniest voice, he asks, “Do you like dinosaurs?”
Shoko’s lips curve into a lazy grin. “Oh, I love dinosaurs,” she says without missing a beat. “Stegosaurus is my favorite.”
Koji’s eyes light up, his grip on your knee loosening as his excitement builds. “Me too!” he exclaims, his earlier hesitation already fading.
You let out a quiet breath, relieved to see him opening up. Shoko throws you a knowing glance before reaching into her pocket. “Wanna see something cool?” she asks, pulling out her phone. She taps on it a few times before turning the screen to him. “Look at this—real fossil pictures.”
Koji gasps, stepping closer, his tiny hands gripping the edge of her phone as he stares in fascination.
You shake your head with a soft laugh. “Well, I guess you’ve won him over.”
Shoko winks at you before looking back at Koji. “Guess that means I can stay, huh?”
Koji nods quickly, his earlier shyness completely gone. “Yeah! You can stay!” Your heart warms at the sight of them, a small, fleeting moment of peace settling over you. Even just for a little while, it feels like everything is okay.
Packing has never been your favorite thing to do. Having to look through year-old things, deciding if they’re worth staying in your life or not, buying boxes, the clutter that fills the place, everything about it is just exhausting. Shoko watches as you sigh, standing in the middle of your living room with your hands on your hips, surveying the mess of half-packed boxes, scattered clothes, and random trinkets from years past. "You look like you’re about to combust," she comments dryly, flopping onto your couch and lighting a cigarette.
You huff, rubbing your forehead. "I might. I hate this shit. It makes everything feel… real."
Shoko chuckles, watching you with an unreadable expression. "Because it is real," she says simply. "You’re leaving." 
Her words settle in your chest like a weight, heavy and suffocating. You know that. Of course, you do. You made this decision, you accepted the keys from Satoru, and you started packing. But now, as you hold a picture frame in your hands—one from a time when things were different, when you weren’t a single mother trying to keep everything together—it hits you all over again. You sit down on the floor with a tired sigh, staring at the photograph. It’s an old one, faded at the edges. Gojo's arm is draped around your shoulders, his usual grin on full display while you lean into him, laughing at something you can’t even remember anymore. It was before everything went to hell. Before Koji. Before the distance.
Shoko’s gaze flickers to the frame in your hands. "You keeping that?"
You swallow, fingers tightening around the frame. You should toss it. It’s just a relic of something that doesn’t exist anymore. But your hands won’t let go.
"...Yeah," you murmur, almost to yourself. "I think I am."
Shoko doesn’t say anything, just nods and leans back, letting you sit with your thoughts.
Packing has never been your favorite thing. But maybe, just maybe, there are some things worth holding onto. You place the picture frame into your box of memories, standing back up with a big exhale. 
“So, have you been looking for jobs near where you’ll be staying now?”
Her question briefly reminds you of the argument with Hana, but you have a good poker face. “Not yet, I mean, I was just thinking of doing the commute.”
“That’ll be far, won’t it?” She sits on the couch cushion.
You nod, tapping your finger along your elbow. “Yeah…or this one lady gave me her business card a while back. She said to call if I was interested, it might be closer to the new place, but I haven’t checked yet.”
“Oh, sick,” she nods, taking a sip from a glass of water you gave her earlier. “Why haven’t you called yet?”
“I—I don’t know. It seemed a little suspicious to me, just the way she came off. But maybe I’m just being superstitious.” 
Shoko raises an eyebrow, swirling the water in her glass. “Suspicious how?”
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, crossing your arms. “I don’t know… she was really persistent.’”
Shoko snorts. “Yeah, that’s how you end up in a pyramid scheme or an underground fight club.”
You roll your eyes but chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, I doubt it’s that extreme. But something about it didn’t sit right with me. Maybe I’ll give her a call, though..”
Shoko shrugs. “Can’t hurt. Just don’t sign anything unless you know exactly what you’re getting into.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’re gonna be okay, you know that, right?”
You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “I mean, yeah. I hope so.”
She gives you a look—one of those knowing, slightly exasperated ones. “No. Not ‘I hope so.’ You will be.”
A lump forms in your throat at the certainty in her voice. Shoko wasn’t the type to say things just to make people feel better. If she said it, she meant it. You exhale, some of the weight in your chest loosening. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I will be.”
She grins, leaning back into the couch again. “That’s the spirit. Now hurry up and finish packing before I start judging your terrible organization skills.”
You roll your eyes as you two get back to work. “Oh, and you don’t have to stay until nine anymore. Satoru said he’d help me when he gets off work.”
Shoko raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Oh? Satoru’s coming over to help you pack? How domestic.”
You groan, shoving a pile of clothes into a box with a little too much force. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she says, raising her hands in mock innocence. “I just think it’s funny. You two aren’t together, but he’s making house calls to help you pack. Almost like—oh, I don’t know—a boyfriend would.”
You sigh, sitting back on your heels. “He’s just helping, Shoko. It’s his way of making up for lost time. And, you know… Koji.”
Shoko hums, taking another sip of her water. “Uh-huh. Sure. Just be careful, alright? Satoru has a way of worming his way back into places.”
You look at her, your stomach twisting a little at the implication. “I know.”
She doesn’t press any further, just gives you a small nod before grabbing another box. “Alright then. Let’s finish this up before your not-boyfriend gets here.”
You and Shoko actually end up doing some pretty good damage, clearing out most of the living room and kitchen within a couple of hours. The place is filled with half-sealed boxes, stacks of clothes, and random knickknacks you forgot you even owned. Koji occasionally tries to help out before going back to playing in his room, door open. The air smells faintly of cardboard and dust, and every so often, you hear the rip of packing tape as one of you secures another box. Shoko moves with practiced ease, taping up a box labeled kitchenware while holding a cigarette between her lips, the ash barely hanging on. “You sure you need all these mugs?” she asks, giving you a pointed look.
You glance at the open box filled with an assortment of cups—some gifted, some bought on impulse, and a few holding sentimental value. You chew your lip. “...Maybe.”
Shoko snorts. “I’ll take that as a no.” Without waiting for your response, she plucks a random floral-patterned mug and sets it aside. “This one’s cute, though. I’m keeping it.”
You shake your head with a small laugh before focusing on your own task—sorting through a box of old papers, receipts, and letters you should’ve thrown out years ago. Some of them you skim through, lingering on certain notes or reminders scribbled in the margins, while others you crumple up without a second thought. At one point, Shoko finds an old sweater buried at the bottom of a pile and holds it up. “Didn’t you steal this from Satoru?”
Your hands pause over a stack of mail as you glance at the familiar fabric. It’s an oversized hoodie, worn at the cuffs, with a faint scent of something you refuse to acknowledge clinging to it. You exhale, shaking your head. “Borrowed. And forgot to give back.”
Shoko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. Instead, she tosses it onto the “maybe” pile. “Right. Borrowed.”
By the time you finish packing up Koji’s toys that he hasn’t been playing with recently, the apartment looks emptier, more like a place in transition rather than a home. You stretch, your back aching slightly from crouching on the floor for so long. Shoko leans against the counter.. “So, when’s Satoru supposed to get here?”
You check the time on your phone, suppressing a sigh. “Soon, I think.”
She nods. “Good, I think I’m gonna head out now. I have a charcuterie board and some wine waiting for me at home.”
You scoff, shaking your head with a small laugh. “Of course you do.”
Shoko smirks as she grabs her coat. “What can I say? I have taste.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, stretching slightly before making her way to the door.
“Thanks for helping,” you say sincerely, following her.
She shrugs. “No problem. Besides, watching you stress-pack was mildly entertaining.”
You roll your eyes, but the fondness in your expression betrays you. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your wine and fancy snacks.”
“Always do,” she says with a lazy grin, stepping out into the hallway. “Oh, and tell Satoru I said hi.”
You hum noncommittally, leaning against the doorframe as she walks off. The second she’s out of sight, you sigh, rubbing your temples. The apartment is eerily quiet now, save for the occasional sound of Koji shifting in his room and the faint rustling of cardboard boxes.
And now, all that’s left to do is wait.
And waiting was what you did.
You should’ve assumed that when Satoru didn’t give you an exact time of when he’d be off of work, it would be late. You’ve already showered and changed into one of your comfortable nightgowns you have since a good majority of your other pajamas have been packed. Koji has been washed up also, getting him ready for bed. You read his favorite lullaby and kiss his cheek as he drifts off to sleep, silently peeling out the room and closing the door behind you. You won’t be moving out until hopefully a month from now, since your lease is month to month. But you’ve always enjoyed getting a head start on things, especially something as big as this. 
The apartment feels different now, half-packed boxes stacked in corners, the once-cozy clutter of everyday life slowly disappearing. You stand in the dimly lit living room, rubbing your arms as the silence settles over you. Moving still doesn’t feel real. You glance at the clock. Satoru still isn’t here. With a sigh, you walk into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. The faint hum of the refrigerator is the only sound accompanying you as you lean against the counter, tapping your fingers against the cool surface. Your mind drifts—back to your conversation with Hana, to Koji’s peaceful face as he slept. The weight of everything presses on your chest, but before you can dwell too much, a soft knock at the door pulls you back.
You already know who it is.
Setting the glass down, you push off the counter and make your way to the door, unlocking it with a quiet click. And when you open it, there he is—Satoru, standing in the dim glow of the hallway light, looking a little tired but still offering you a lopsided grin. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves lazily rolled up, with black slacks and shoes. 
“Hey,” he says, voice lower than usual. Tired. 
“Hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in. “you’re a little late.”
“Yeah, sorry. Some stuff in the office, got held up.” 
You nod, not exactly surprised. You’ve grown used to his unpredictable hours, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “It’s fine. Just… been waiting around for you,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck as you lead him inside.
He gives you a look, something soft behind his usual nonchalant expression. "I know. I’m sorry about that."
"It's okay." You give him a faint smile, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Koji's already asleep. I made sure to finish his bedtime routine before I started getting things ready here."
Satoru hums in acknowledgment, putting his jacket off and hanging it over a chair. His gaze drifts to the boxes scattered around the room, some already taped up and others half-opened. It’s a stark reminder of the transition you’re about to make, and you can tell he’s thinking the same thing, his face momentarily tight before he shakes it off. “I see you're making progress,” he says, stepping over to the couch and sitting down.
You lean against the doorframe, watching him with a small sigh. "Yeah, just... still a lot to do. Not sure where I’ll even begin with everything. Packing up a life feels… strange."
He looks up at you, his expression serious. “I get it.” His voice drops a bit, almost too soft, as if he’s carefully measuring his next words. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m helping, remember?”
The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you forget about the tension between the two of you, the things unsaid and still hanging in the air. “I know,” you whisper back. "Thank you."
“Don’t thank me too much,” he waves you off. “Where should we start?”
You glance around the room, the dim light casting soft shadows on the packed boxes. It feels like the room itself is holding its breath, just like you, waiting for something to break. "Well," you start, standing up and walking over to one of the piles of clothes, "I guess we could start with the things I don’t need immediately. Like these clothes." You pull out a few items, folding them quickly and placing them in the box. "That should make a dent in it."
Satoru watches you for a moment, then stands and stretches, clearly ready to dive in. "Alright, clothes it is. But if we're doing this, we're doing it right," he says, a glimmer of teasing in his tone. "I’ll help you with everything. You won’t even have to lift a finger."
You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You’re acting like I can’t handle it myself."
"I know you can," he replies, his voice softening. "But if I’m here, let me do my part."
You hesitate for just a second, looking up at him. His offer feels real, no strings attached, and part of you wants to take him up on it. But the other part— the one that’s always been fiercely independent— resists. "Alright," you say finally, looking away to hide the conflicted thoughts running through your mind. "Start with the clothes, then we’ll see where we’re at."
He grins. "You got it."
And so, the two of you begin. It’s quiet at first, just the soft rustle of clothes and the occasional murmur from either of you. But with Satoru’s easy presence next to you, there’s a strange comfort in it. The tension between you both hasn’t disappeared, but it feels more manageable now. Like it’s being pushed aside, at least for tonight.
It’s a pretty peaceful endeavor. Of course, your eyes keep flickering over to the way his forearms clench tight, showing off his pretty web of veins as he lifts one box to stack on top of another. And of course, he can’t help but steal quick glances at your legs peeking out from your dress, or that cute little noise you make when you lift something. The silence between you two feels almost comfortable, but there's an undercurrent of tension that’s hard to ignore. You catch Satoru's gaze more than once, his eyes briefly lingering on you before darting away, as if he’s trying to shake off a thought that keeps circling back.
However, the air in the room feels heavier, charged with unspoken thoughts, though neither of you acknowledges it. Your movements become a little more deliberate, and more calculated, as if both of you are trying to stay focused on the task at hand. But it’s hard to ignore the quiet heat building between the two of you, a tension neither of you seems willing to break.
Every time you glance at him, there’s something different in the way he holds himself—more aware, like he's suddenly hyper-conscious of your proximity. It’s not the usual Satoru, the one with all the jokes and playful teasing. This Satoru is more subdued, like he’s fighting the urge to close the distance. You try to ignore it, pushing the box into its designated spot, but his gaze keeps catching yours. And when you don’t look away fast enough, the corners of his mouth curl, almost imperceptibly. That look, that silent acknowledgment of the way you’re both aware of the other... it makes your heart beat a little faster, a little harder.
You catch Satoru's gaze more than once, his eyes briefly lingering on you before darting away, as if he’s trying to shake off a thought that keeps circling back. And you can't seem to stop noticing the way his muscles move under his shirt, the flex of his arms, the casual grace in the way he lifts the boxes. He’s not even trying to look impressive, but it’s hard not to find something magnetic about the way he carries himself—like everything he does is effortless, even in the midst of something as mundane as packing up boxes.
You try to focus on your task, but the way your mind keeps wandering back to him—his presence so close, his every movement in your peripheral vision—makes it hard to concentrate. It’s like the room has shrunk, and all the air between you is charged with something unspoken.
"You're staring," Satoru says, his voice light, a playful hint in his tone. He lifts another box, his eyes meeting yours briefly. "Trying to get an up-close look at all this muscle, huh?"
Your cheeks warm, and you quickly glance away, pretending to straighten out a stack of books. "I wasn’t staring," you mutter, but there's no real conviction in your voice.
Satoru just smirks, clearly amused, but doesn’t push. Instead, he adds another box to the growing pile and turns his attention back to the task at hand. There's an ease in the way he works, but it’s also clear that he’s making a deliberate effort to keep the mood light. Maybe to balance out the underlying weight of everything else. The two of you fall into a quiet rhythm, the soft rustling of cardboard and the occasional clink of items being packed the only sounds filling the space. You don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this—having him here, helping, being part of something so domestic. He moves through your space like he belongs, like he’s done this a million times before, and maybe that’s what unsettles you the most. Because there was a time when he did.
You kneel down to wrap some plates in newspaper, but Satoru beats you to it, his long fingers brushing against yours as he takes over the task. It’s brief, fleeting, but the contact sends a jolt through your skin, making you stiffen for just a second. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything—he just works, his movements efficient but unhurried.
More of Koji’s many toys are the next thing to go into a box, and you pause for a moment, running your fingers over the worn edges of a tiny action figure. It’s one of Koji’s favorites—one Satoru had bought him one time on a whim. You remember the way he handed it to your son with an easy grin, the way Koji’s face had lit up like it was the best gift in the world. Your chest tightens as you place it carefully in the box. “You okay?” Satoru asks, his voice softer now. You glance up to find him watching you, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something quieter, something real.
You nod, swallowing. “Yeah. Just… I don’t know. Packing makes things feel more real, I guess.”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I get that.”
For a moment, it feels like he wants to say more, but the words never come. Instead, he shifts his attention back to the stack of boxes, lifting one effortlessly and carrying it to the corner of the room. And then, something catches his eye. It’s stacked on top of the coffee table and he’s not sure how he didn’t recognize it earlier, but it’s distinct. The handwriting, the doodles, everything. 
“You still have that?” He juts his chin towards its direction.
You stop and look over, following his gaze to the precious box of memories your younger selves made. Your hands still over the box you were taping up, your eyes tracing the old box stacked neatly on the coffee table. It’s a little worn now, the edges fraying, the ink of your younger selves’ handwriting faded but still legible. The weight of nostalgia settles in your chest like a stone.
Of course, you still have it.
You glance at Satoru, catching the flicker of recognition in his expression. His usual carefree smirk is nowhere to be found—just something softer, more thoughtful, as he takes a step closer. “I didn’t think you’d keep it,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the lid.
You hesitate, swallowing past the sudden tightness in your throat. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Satoru exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Thought maybe… after everything, you would’ve tossed it.”
You know what he means. That box holds pieces of the past—old photos, handwritten notes, ticket stubs from nights you thought would last forever. Memories you both tried to move on from but never really could. You shrug, running a hand over the lid. “Some things are worth holding onto.”
His eyes flicker to yours, something unreadable in them. His fingers hover over the edge of the box, like he’s debating whether to open it. “Do you mind?”
You shake your head, and with careful hands, he lifts the lid and takes a seat at the couch. The moment he does, the past spills out between you—photographs with scribbled dates, pressed flowers long since dried, a crumpled receipt from that diner you both used to sneak off to.
A photo rests on top, slightly curled at the edges. It’s of you and Satoru, years ago, faces close together as you both made exaggerated, ridiculous expressions for the camera. His arm was draped around you, his signature grin in place. He looks through another few, one of you both wearing Ring Pops, a picture of you guys sitting underneath a tree, ones of you two kissing, and sweet, but cheesy cards with his writing on it.
You wonder if he remembers the moment any of them were taken. If he remembers how he stole your fries right after, laughing when you swatted at him. If he remembers how easy things used to be. He exhales slowly, running a thumb over the corner of the photo. “We were such kids,” he muses.
You smile faintly. “We were.”
For a moment, neither of you say anything. The weight of everything unspoken lingers in the air between you. The past, the present, the things you both wish you could take back—it’s all there, packed into a small shoebox of memories you never really let go of. And maybe, just maybe, neither did he.
Satoru flips through the photographs slowly, his fingers lingering on each one like they might disintegrate under his touch. His lips quirk up at a few—like the one of you wearing his sunglasses, pouting at the camera while he made a stupid face behind you. Or the blurry snapshot of a festival, fireworks exploding in the night sky above your laughing forms.  
But there’s one that makes his expression falter, something unreadable flickering in those bright blue eyes. It’s an old candid, one you don’t even remember being taken. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of what used to be his apartment, surrounded by scattered papers and empty takeout boxes. You’re mid-laugh, head thrown back, completely unguarded. And Satoru—he’s looking at you.  
Not at the camera. At you.  
His gaze in the photo is something raw, something unfiltered. And looking at it now, years later, it almost makes your breath catch. Satoru exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot about this one.”  
You shift beside him, peering over his shoulder. “Me too.”  
Liar.  
You remember exactly when it was taken. You remember the warmth of that night, the way the two of you had spent hours talking about everything and nothing. You remember how he had looked at you then—like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.  
And the worst part?  
You think, maybe, he’s looking at you the same way right now.  
You swallow, forcing a chuckle as you reach for another old memory. “Oh god, do you remember this?” You hold up a wrinkled concert ticket, the faded ink barely legible. “We got lost on the way home and ended up at that weird little gas station in the middle of nowhere.”  
His laugh is warm, genuine. “Yeah, and you made me go inside alone because you swore it looked haunted.”  
“It did look haunted.”  
“It was just old, Y/N.”  
You grin, nudging his arm. He nudges back, something familiar settling in between you both. Something easy. He looks down at another photo, one of you two curled up on what used to be his childhood bed, he’s taking the picture. You’re asleep on his shoulder, a small wet spot from what can only be your drool, as he sports a dorky grin. 
Your heart flutters at the way his eyes linger on your face, smiling in a way that makes you sit beside him, knees brushing together. “You always fell asleep so quick.” 
You chortle quietly. “Well, yeah. Your bed was comfier than mine.”
“It was. Comfier than my hotel from last night too,” he fakes a wince. 
You blink, head tilting. “You got a hotel? I thought you said you were going home.”
His lips purse, looking at you. “Yeah, well…I changed my mind.”
“Why?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. 
He hesitates, like he’s not sure he should tell you the truth, but ultimately decides to. “Well…I don’t know. I realized I didn’t really want to go home yet, but I didn’t want to be too far from you guys either, and I felt weird asking to stay.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.
Your breath hitches, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His words settle into your chest, warm and heavy, lingering in places you’ve tried to ignore for so long. “You didn’t want to be too far…” you echo softly, letting the sentence trail off, like saying it out loud might make it feel realer.  
Satoru shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he does it—something unsure. “Yeah, I guess.” He looks down at the photo again, his thumb brushing absently over the image of your sleeping face. “I mean, it’s stupid, right?”  
You don’t know what to say to that. Because no, it’s not stupid. Not to you. You wet your lips. “You could’ve just…stayed here, you know.”  
He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Could I have?” His voice is quiet, careful.  
You hold his gaze. There’s an unspoken conversation happening between the two of you, the kind that doesn’t need words. The kind that comes with knowing someone for so long that silence says just as much as anything else.  
Finally, you look away, your fingers playing with the hem of your nightgown. “Yeah,” you murmur. “You could have.”  
The air between you shifts—something delicate, something dangerously close to feeling like before.  
Satoru exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shake something off. “Well,” he says, forcing a smirk, “maybe next time I’ll take you up on that.”  
You give a small laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Because you don’t know if you mean it. If you could really handle him here, in your space, in your life, so close yet still so far.  But when he leans back against the couch, his arm brushing against yours, when he picks up another photo and grins at some long-forgotten memory—you think, maybe, you wouldn’t mind. 
He continues to indulge in the sacred beauties of what your past has to offer. It’s another quiet affair, words feeling too loud for such a fragile moment like this one. You smile when he does, laugh when he does at another cringey picture. And soon, his eyes begin to glaze over with emotion. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight, a small gasp almost falling from your lips at the rawness he’s so willingly showing right now. Instead, you say nothing, biting hard on your lip and forcing your eyes on your hands in your lap. 
“Y/N…” he murmurs.
When you look back up, he looks like he’s barely holding it in.
“I…I just…I….I’m not happy. With everything, myself, with—with what I’ve done and said before. It’s been haunting me so much nowadays and no matter what, I can’t help myself. I feel guilty, disgusted, and…and I regret it. A lot. I’ve been confusing you, but myself too. I feel like I disappoint every single time, no matter what….I’m so sorry.”
You don’t even know how to respond to that for a few seconds. You gulp, finally finding your voice. “Satoru….” You whisper, trying to find the right words. “I—I should be the one telling you that.”
“You have before.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make up for my mistakes, either.”
“It doesn’t. But I’ve been hearing you apologize so much recently, it’s time you hear mine.”
The weight of his words hangs heavy in the room, thick with the kind of sincerity that makes your chest tighten. You try to process it, try to let the impact of his confession settle into something that makes sense. But the words seem to fall short—guilt, regret, disgust. The rawness in his voice cuts deeper than you expect, unraveling something you didn’t know was tied up inside you.
His eyes are full of turmoil, and you can see how much it costs him to open up like this. His usual confidence, the front he wears so easily, is nowhere to be found. In its place is a vulnerability so unguarded that it almost frightens you. And in this quiet, fragile moment, it feels like time slows down. 
“I’ve heard your apologies, Satoru,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “But you don’t have to keep apologizing. Not for this.”
His expression falters for a second, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "But—"
You shake your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips, though it doesn’t feel like enough to wipe away the heaviness in the room. “I’m not perfect either, Satoru,” you continue, your voice gaining strength with each word. “We both made mistakes. And I’ve hurt you too. But we’ve hurt each other.” He looks like he wants to argue, but you press on, finding courage in his honesty. “I’ve been holding onto the past just as much as you have. I can’t change it, but I need to stop pretending it doesn’t still affect me. It’s been haunting me too. But I can’t keep holding onto it. Not if I want to move forward. We’re older now, wiser, more mature. There’s Koji, and…and I don’t want things to feel…horrible between us. I want us to find peace together.”
Satoru swallows hard, and the muscles in his jaw tighten. His hand reaches for his forehead, rubbing it like he’s trying to push the weight of everything out of his mind. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N. I’m trying. But it feels like I keep screwing up.”
“I know,” you say quietly. "We both do." The words are out there, and now all that’s left is to let them breathe. Neither of you can change the past, but maybe...you can learn to let it go. 
He nods slowly, as if trying to absorb it all, and after a moment of silence, he looks back at you. His eyes are tired, but there's something softer in them now, something hopeful. He wipes his eyes. "I don't know where we go from here, but I don’t want to keep running from it."
Your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t know what the future holds either, but for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel the weight of the past starting to lift, even if just a little. "Me neither," you whisper, your voice shaky with emotion. "But maybe we can figure it out."
“Together.”
“Together.”
His lips curve up into a genuine smile full of nothing but warmth, adoration. The smile he gives you is like the first rays of sunlight after a storm, bright and full of life. It’s soft, unguarded—something you haven’t seen in a long time. It reaches his eyes, a spark of something familiar and comforting that makes your chest tighten in a way you haven’t felt in ages. The weight that’s been hanging between you both, the heavy unspoken truths, start to feel a little lighter.
You find yourself leaning into the moment, your breath steadying as his gaze softens, his hand subtly inching closer to yours. He doesn’t push it, but the offer is there, unspoken, a silent invitation to bridge the distance that’s always seemed too wide. You could almost hear the quiet rhythm of your heart in the silence between you, pulsing steady and sure.
“I know there’s some things that don’t call for forgiveness, I understand that. It goes both ways. But I want you to know that I want to be better for Koji, and for you. I want to be here for you, even if it’s just to co-parent.” He says. 
Your heart skips a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice almost overwhelming. It’s like he’s finally seeing the bigger picture, the shared weight of the past, and the future that still holds a flicker of possibility. His willingness to be better for both Koji and you feels like a balm on a wound that’s been open for far too long. You look down at your hands, fingers trembling slightly as the gravity of the moment presses on your chest. You had always known that, beneath all the tension and mistakes, there was something worth salvaging, but hearing him admit it brings a kind of clarity you didn’t know you needed. 
“Maybe,” you start, your voice faltering for a second, “maybe we don’t need to fix everything all at once. But I think we can make it work. For him, and for us... no matter what it looks like.” 
You glance up, meeting his gaze. There’s an unspoken understanding between you two, the kind that doesn’t need words. He’s no longer just apologizing—he’s actively offering a future where you’re both better versions of yourselves, learning, growing, and being there for Koji. The idea of co-parenting with him, of sharing that responsibility and maybe even more, feels like the first step toward something that might just heal all the old wounds. You don’t know what the future holds, but for once, it doesn’t feel as daunting as it did before.
The air between you thickens with every breath, heavy and charged. The weight of what he said lingers in your chest and you begin to forget about everything else. It’s just you and him, the past and the future all blending together in this shared space. You can feel his presence more than you ever have before—closer than ever, his warmth radiating off of him, his gaze never leaving yours.
Satoru shifts slightly, his knee brushing against yours, sending a spark up your spine. It’s not just the physical closeness; it’s the way the emotional tension seems to stretch and wind itself tighter, knotting in your gut. His eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a split second, but it’s enough to make your heart race, to make your breath hitch in your throat. You inhale shakily, eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, unsure of whether it’s the right moment. His hand, almost instinctively, moves toward yours, brushing the back of your fingers lightly. It’s barely a touch, but it sends a wave of heat flooding through your body.
"Y/N..." He says your name in a low, almost desperate whisper. It's a quiet plea, and it’s as if he’s asking for permission—permission to cross that line, to go past the familiar territory you’ve shared for so long.
You’re frozen in place, caught between the pull of your past and the undeniable attraction of the present. Your pulse quickens, and for a moment, all the doubts, the reservations, the walls you’ve built, seem so far away. “Is this...” You start, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by the sudden proximity of his face to yours. His breath is warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
He doesn’t need to answer. His eyes tell you everything you need to know—the vulnerability, the desire, the hope, all wrapped up in the way his lips hover just inches from yours.  Your hand slowly finds its way to the side of his neck, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of his pulse, a silent invitation.
Time seems to stand still for what feels like an eternity. Both of you internally weighing out the pros and cons of this situation, but all you can come up with are the pros. You’re not sure who moves first—whether it’s him leaning in, or you, but in the next moment, his lips are on yours, tentative at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. 
But you don’t. You don’t pull away.
The kiss deepens, slow but insistent, the taste of him, the feel of his mouth, everything feels so raw and real, like you’ve both been starved for this connection. Every lingering touch, every brush of skin, sends a flood of emotions coursing through you. His head tilts, cupping his hands against your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss—it’s everything that’s been left unsaid, the apology, the longing, the shared history—it’s all colliding in this single moment.
And even though it’s a long time coming, you know it’s not just about this kiss. It’s about what comes after, the mess and the beauty of what you’ve both been through. But for now, all you can focus on is him—the way he feels against you, the way everything else seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you.
His head pushes closer, kissing you with a tender firmness that has you encircling your arms around his neck to bring him closer. Happily, he scoots closer to you, one hand drifting down to your waist. His tongue swipes gently across your bottom lip and you part your lips. The wet muscles invades your mouth in a way that feels so reminiscent. Your tongue tangle together in a sensual, slow dance. 
Subconsciously, you’re leaning more and more back until your back hits the couch cushion. He’s hovering above you now, the hand that was on your cheek planting itself beside your head to keep his stability. You nibble gently at his lower lip, the low moan he lets out makes you feel so embarrassingly warm.
After a few minutes, he pulls back for air, practically panting. Your lips are red, kiss-swollen. Looking up at him with wide eyes like you can’t believe what just happened. He’s almost beginning to question whether he misread the situation but he glances down, noticing the way your legs part for his body to slot between. 
The moment hangs between you two, thick with unspoken understanding, as if neither of you wants to break it but both of you are struggling to catch your breath. Your chest rises and falls in time with his, and your mind races, unsure if you should stop or let this continue. But the way his body is so close to yours, the heat radiating between you, the warmth of his hand on your waist, makes it hard to think clearly. 
His eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he sees is the way your chest heaves, the flush of your skin, and how your body silently shifts beneath him as if you're inviting him closer without needing to say a word. Satoru’s hand remains by your head, bracing himself, but his other hand trails a path along your side, grazing the curves of your body, feeling the pulse of warmth beneath your skin. He leans down again, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing a kiss down to your neck, a soft sigh leaving your lips. His touch is gentle but possessive, as if he’s reclaiming something that’s always been his, as if this was meant to happen all along.
You tilt your head back, giving him more access, your fingers threading through his pale hair, pulling him closer. You can feel the way his heart races against your chest, matching the intensity of your own. His lips find yours once more, and this time, the kiss is more urgent, more demanding, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time that was lost between you two. It’s overwhelming, the way your body responds to him. You’re caught between wanting more and wanting to hold onto this fragile moment, the one where everything feels right, despite the potential mess that surrounds it. Every touch, every kiss, sends a jolt of electricity through you, reminding you of the connection that has always been there, buried deep beneath the surface.
But you pull back for a brief second, your breath shaky, trying to regain control of your racing heart. “Satoru...” Your voice is barely above a mutter, and his name on your lips feels like a whispered confession.
His eyes darken, and he leans in again, his forehead pressing against yours. “I’m not going to rush you, Y/N. I just need you to know…” His words trail off, but the intensity in his gaze is enough to fill the silence. 
You’re both teetering on the edge of something that could change everything. But in this moment, it’s not just about the kiss, or the heat between you two—it’s about the vulnerability, the trust that you’ve both allowed to fill the spaces that have been vacant for so long. And as his lips brush yours again, you can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning of something new—or the rekindling of something that was always meant to be. “I know,” you murmur against his lips. 
“Good,” he gives you one last lingering kiss, before titling his head down your jaw, kiss after kiss pants your smooth skin until it reaches your neck. Soft nibbles and sucks make your body feel like it’s on fire. A small moan leaves you, and you feel the way his lips smile against your neck. He reaches a particularly sensitive spot, your back arching into his body. He hums in acknowledgment, like he’s silently applauding himself for getting it right after all this time still. 
The sensation of his lips on your skin sends a rush of heat through your body, every kiss and nibble sparking a fire deep within you. The tender yet possessive way he touches you makes your head spin, and you can’t help but sink further into the feeling of him, his hands pulling you closer, his breath warm against your neck. His lips never stop moving, finding every spot that makes you shiver, every place that makes your body hum with need.
You grip his shoulders tighter, urging him closer, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if holding on to something real amidst the storm of emotions flooding you both. His touch is a contradiction—gentle yet firm, warm yet filled with an intensity that makes it impossible to pull away. “Do you remember how we used to…” He doesn’t finish the thought, his voice a low whisper against your skin, but the way he pulls back to look into your eyes tells you everything you need to know. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, a quiet desperation there that matches the frantic rhythm of your heart. 
You swallow thickly, barely able to form words. “I do…” you breathe out, your voice shaky as you push yourself closer to him, your lips nearly brushing his as you speak. 
His hand slides lower, resting at your hip, fingers pressing into your skin with a possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt. The heat between you two builds with every passing second. You wonder how you’ve gotten here, so tangled in each other’s arms, so lost in the intensity of everything that’s been left unsaid between you. His lips find yours again, more urgent now, as if he can’t wait any longer, as if this is everything he’s been craving. Your body responds instinctively, your hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, and in that moment, there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just a shared understanding that this is something more than just a kiss, more than just a fleeting moment. With each kiss, with each touch, the tension between you both only grows stronger, and you can’t help but ponder the idea of how much longer you’ll be able to hold back.
“Missed this….missed this….god…” he groans into your mouth. 
And you’re suddenly reminded of the fact that your son is sleeping peacefully in his room, the walls aren’t very thick ,and this—this should not be happening right now. It’s not right; you two aren’t even together, he has a fucking girlfriend, for crying out loud. 
What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?
Your body feels jittery with nerves and anticipation, the reality of the compromising situation settling in. Are you technically homewrecking right now? Or are you innocent because technically…he knows where his real home is. His lips against you feel nostalgic, but even better than what you remember. Heart pounding in your chest, breathing short—panting and he’s barely done anything.
You’re brought down back to Earth when a sneaky, warm palm squeeze softly at the inside of your thigh. You gasp unintentionally, hand shooting out to grip his wrist weakly. Half-lidded gaze meeting yours, his face is the epitome of a man on the brink of losing it.
The grip of your hand around his wrist caused a shiver to run down his spine. He liked the way you could feel how quick his pulse was, how excited he was to put his hands on you. He shifted you further back, lifting the back of your head up to lay it onto the pillow. His head bowed, his mouth hovering over your pulse point, but pausing just before he could touch you. “Let me just have a taste,” he murmured. “I won’t go any further. I just…I need this. Please.”
“Y-you always say that…” you manage to breathe out. 
“And usually I stick to that.”
Usually. 
His lips connect with your neck once more. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your skin, and his grip on your thigh and wrist tightened slightly. His tongue flicks over your pulse, and he places a second kiss, and a third. He moves down your neck, pressing kisses and soft, sharp nips to your skin. He wanted to mark you. “Just a taste.”
You find yourself barely contemplating—the rate at which you’re actually answering his shocking request baffles you. But you can’t bring yourself to care about the consequences of your choices right now—just trying to feel. A shaky nod. 
Honestly, fuck his girlfriend. 
His speed is fast, movements quick and hurried like he can’t wait, like he’s just been given permission to take a bite of his favorite sweet that he hasn’t had in so, so long. You gasp when he’s moving down your body, lifting your legs up by the back of your thighs and over his shoulders—his head finding placement between your thighs. 
“Thank you, thank you,” he whispered, his voice breathy and eager. The moment you nodded he was all over you.
He’s keeping your legs hoisted up, pushing your dress up and out of the way. He positions himself to lay on his stomach between your legs, his hands running up and down your thighs. The position is almost comical to you, his large frame barely fitting onto the small couch you own. But it’s his determination—his desperation that’s keeping you going. 
He was already breathing heavily, desperate. And he was still begging. “Just a taste.” he repeated. “Just a small one.”
He noses at your thigh, inhaling your perfect scent. Your hand finds rightful placement between his strands, looking down at the way he bunches your nightgown at your hips, revealing a pair of….plain granny panties. 
Immediately, you cringe. Legs moving to close shut, but his hold on them keeps them wide open for him to sniff at your heat like a dog. “So good….so pretty…”
Your cheeks feel hotter than your entire body, flooding with embarrassment as he continues to smell. His warm breath hitting you through the material and you flinch. “S…Satoru….I’m sorry…”
“For what?” His voice is muffled, but his eyes still flicker up to meet yours. 
“F-For not being better prepared. I’m sorry,” you gulp. 
He scoffs, kissing your inner thigh. “What are you talking about? You think I care about that? You know me, Y/N. You could have the biggest bush known to man with decade old underwear and I’d still want some of you.”
You grimace. “Satoru!”
He chuckles softly, kissing the crease of your thigh. His fingers softly rub your plush skin, easing your tense body. You let out a big puff of air, eyes raising up to the ceiling when he moves back to your underwear. Giving you a tiny kiss above the fabric, you bite your lip. Your fingers slowly begin to rub at his scalp, he momentarily stops as he basks in your touch. Humming in approval. 
“….please don’t stop,” he whispers, followed by his fingers latching onto the hem of your underwear. 
You let out a shaky sigh, hips lifting slightly to help him. He pulls down the fabric in a methodical way, giving you enough time to register what’s happening and possibly pull away if you feel like it. Again, you don’t pull away. The granny panties move down your legs until he’s tossing it to the side on the floor. And once his eyes zero in on your glistening cunt waiting for him, his pupils dilate ever wider (if possible). “Wow,” he sighs in fascination. 
His stare always makes you feel bare, but especially now. You can’t help feeling self-conscious about the way you look down there. Not that there’s anything wrong, but you know he’s been intimate with another woman. Your mind swirls with implications that he’s secretly hiding his disgust behind a dopey smile and mesmerized, gleaming eyes. Your hips twitch. “I—sorry.”
“For what?” He asks again.
“If I look different.”
“You look as beautiful as you always do, maybe even more,” he replies easily, the sight of your pussy capturing his full attention as he leans closer. “Can I show you, please? I love it so fucking much.” 
God, his mouth. His bright blues make eye contact with you once more, waiting for an answer. Finally, you nod. “…yes, Satoru.”
And that’s all the confirmation he needs. You gasp out as he dives in, sucking first at your puffy clit that peeks at him. Instinctively, your fingers tighten around his hair, hips jerking up, but he pushes them back down. He moans when your sweet taste melts on his tongue like ice cream, tongue prodding and swirling in circular motions. Your head tilts further back, mouth agape, trying to keep up with his speed. 
But you never could. 
“S-sa—” you’re cut off when he spits roughly, subsequently whimpering in a shivering manner when his tongue enters your squeezing hole. “F-fuck…oh….fuck, Satoru.”
“So good,” his tone sounds like a whine, fingers tightening around your thighs while he forces you closer to his mouth, almost like he’s trying to suffocate himself in you. His mouth works your pussy in a way that makes you see stars, pleading for more. 
His teeth nibble very softly at your clit, followed by a wet kiss, and then a slobbery suck. He’s always worked messy, your wetness drowning his face in it, running down until it pools onto the cushion beneath you. He shoves his face deeper, the tip of his perky nose poking your nub while his mouth focuses on your hole. He tilts his head, almost like he’s french kissing your pussy, moaning and mumbling nonsense. You make out small things like ‘so good’, ‘yes, please, yes’, and ‘how fucking good you taste’. 
You bite down on your free hand to keep your noises within hold, but of course, that proves meaningless against Satoru’s ruthless mouth. “A-ah…S-Satoru…I—”
His tongue moves back into your quivering hole, feeling the way you squeeze and he can only wonder how good that would feel against his hard cock that he’s rutting shamelessly into the cushion. Your thighs close around his head, eyes rolling back when a familiar warmth coils at your lower gut, hips jerking and toes curling up. 
He senses it, doesn’t need to ask. 
He continues his ministrations, making noises that sound so fucking obnoxiously hot that you feel a countdown until your warm cum oozes out in such a captivating way. He’s lapping it all up, not letting a single drop go to waste. Your chest heaves, panting like you’ve just run a fucking mile. Even after you’ve cum on his tongue, he’s still eating you like he’s starving. 
You whine and whimper, pulling at his strands. “Satoru…c-can’t….ngh….”
“Just…a little…more…” he pants. 
And you honestly have no objections. Even if you feel overstimulated, even if you wish he’d give your pussy a damn break from his vicious mouth. It’s all worth it in the end when he pulls back, his mouth and chin coated in your juices. 
And he still looks like he hasn’t had enough. 
It’s a sight that feels straight out of a romance novel. A man so desperately yearning for a simple eating that he looks almost crazed. But to him, it’s not simple. It’s everything. Every part of you is everything to Satoru. Your reactions are a bonus, your hazy eyes, parted mouth, strands of hair sticking to your forehead…it’s all worth it. 
His eyes tear up again, a broken laugh falling from his lips. “Beautiful. Always have been, always will be.”
You can’t speak, offering a noncommittal huff. 
He leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. You stick your tongue out, faintly tasting yourself. He gives another to the tip of your nose, for forehead, then finally your lips before he’s nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. 
Your chests meet each other in timed rises, arms feeling limp as you wrap them around his neck. No words are spoken, just allowing yourselves to be present in the moment—in each other’s touch. 
“Thank you,” he mumbles against your neck. 
Your throat is dry as you respond. “…m…mhm…”
He laughs again, softer this time. Feeling his arms loop around your waist and tugging your body closer to his like he’s trying to fuse you two. He inhales deeply. “…can I stay?”
You breath out, fanning his ear. “Yes, please.”
His smile is ever-present, letting his eyes flutter closed. Your arms tighten around him, bringing him as close as physically possible. He lets you do so. 
The silence between you two feels comfortable, almost like the world outside this moment has fallen away. You can hear the steady rhythm of his breath, and the way his body feels against yours makes you realize just how much you've missed him—his presence, his warmth. His hand runs gently up and down your back, a soothing, almost instinctual motion, and you feel your heartbeat steady with it. The vulnerability, the tenderness in his touch, it's as if he's trying to make up for the lost time, showing in every quiet movement how much he's there, how much he cares.
"Are you okay?" His voice is soft, and there's an undercurrent of something raw in it.
You nod against his shoulder, not trusting your voice for a moment. The weight of everything—the past, the future, the unsaid words—feels less heavy in this space, this fragile moment where nothing is expected of you. You just are, and for the first time in what feels like forever, that’s enough.
“I am now," you whisper, holding onto him just a little tighter, as if you’re afraid that if you let go, this peace might slip away. He hums in agreement, his fingers tracing light patterns on your skin. 
As you drift off to sleep, you don’t question the dampness of the tears you feel hit your neck or the way his breath hitches. 
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a/n: hi guyssss! thank you for ur patience. I'm a little self-conscious about my transitions between scenes in this chap and i wish i could’ve dragged out the mom scene more but the wc was looking 🫣🫣🫣 anywho I really hope u enjoyed :)
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This Got me thinking about the absolute panic they would go through. Cause like in the classic human gets shrunk or grows; they panic in some fashion. Usually screaming or curling into themselves, but they still panic.
But imagine not only growing but getting way fucking bigger. Like a few seconds ago you were chilling on a flower, and now? You can barely see the flowers. Like that would be some real crazy panic. Because not only is everything not the right size, it’s REALLY not the right size. To such an extreme that it’ll take way longer to get used to. It’s pretty much being thrown into a whole new world that’s super difficult to understand cause of such a drastic shift in POV.
The reverse? Being so large you could pick a tree up with ease, only to be shrunken down and picked up by a bee or something? That would mess with so many people’s minds. Peeps would need therapy.
Not only would the panic be way more extreme but like what about the adjustment? You know the classic ‘whoops not used to being so big and loud’ type stuff? A tiny who is now giant who was so used to having to shout everything, now has to learn how to whisper but is constantly forgetting that they really don’t need to shout anymore. Or a giant who is now tiny thinking about just walking to their destination only to realize that it won’t be a 5 minute walk for them…it’d be like a 5 week walk now or something.
Or even better, how would they react to a human friend/partner? I mean tiny was so used to getting picked up and stuff and now they’re holding their friend in their hands. Maybe they know how to be careful cause they know what they’d fix from being the one held OR maybe they have no clue how to do this and are freaking out cause ‘how can you handle holding a whole life in your hands?!?’ Or the giant realizing that they aren’t invisible and seeing what it’s like to be from the humans view (in a weird way) and realizing that ‘holy shit I can feel so much through their hand…and all these details…could they see this much? Oh god no…”
I just really love this idea
Hello G/t community, I have a fun G/t scenario and idea for you all (and one I've been thinking of)
So, we've seen either a tiny become human sized or a human become a giant sized, but what about a tiny becoming a GIANT. Like a tiny starts out small and suddenly starts growing or becoming giant sized
For example:
A fairy or borrower has been like a tiny for their entire life, and then either a curse or spell of some kind or anything really, they end up becoming a giant and have to sort of adapt to their new size since they've been used to the world being larger than them but now being smaller than them
Or (this is for family fluff g/t)
Basically, a tiny adopts this sort of random baby that's their size thinking it's a tiny like them or maybe a tiny mermaid, elf, or any fan tiny and raise them as their own. Over time, the tiny starts to grow giant sized, but still is gentle towards their tiny parent or parents
This could also work in reverse if you want a giant to either become a tiny and adapt to the world being bigger than them now or have a giant raise a tiny
Either way, it's something fun I thought up of and I wanted share it
Anyways have a great day and enjoy this little g/t idea I thought up of ( I don't know if anyone's done this yet, but I wanted to share it in case anyone needed an idea for G/t fluff or angst)
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punkrockmlchael · 1 day ago
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Secret Admirer
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Masterlist | Gareth Emerson Masterlist
Gareth Emerson x Fem Cheerleader!Reader
Modern AU ; Secret Admirer to Lovers
Warnings: This is literally just fluff because I just.. needed this, No like literally buckle up for the fluffiest fluff, big bad and scary Gareth is actually a huge and sweet teddy bear when you get to know him, Secret Admirer!Gareth, Cheerleader!Reader, Best Friend!Chrissy, Kind of mean girl cheerleader friends, Gareth has little sisters, Gareth has a cat
Synopsis: Random love letters continue to find their way into your locker at school, it felt like each and every day there was a new one. As time goes on your friends are constantly guessing who they think your "Secret Admirer" actually is. But, they couldn't have been more wrong. This has been giving me trouble because I wanted it to be the best it could be and I continued to come back to it. It has nothing to do with Valentine's Day but I made it a goal to finish it before then and this, uh, this turned out pretty long... So, to anyone that was waiting I'm sorry for the delay but I hope you enjoy how this turned out! Thanks for reading! + once again thank you to the loves of my life @keeryhours + @the-witty-pen-name
Word Count: 7k
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Notes. 
Love notes? 
No, just notes… right? 
That’s how it all started… with some small and subtle handwritten notes. Sweet little anonymous notes that always seemed to brighten your day and compliment you when you needed them the most. They came so often you were starting to wonder how you never noticed them being placed inside your locker… they must’ve been stuffed through the gaps but whoever was placing them definitely had to be quick and cunning if you never noticed them before, right?
It felt like every single day when you opened your locker a new handwritten note would fall to the ground and land at your feet. Each and every note seemed to have come from the same person—the consistent handwriting didn’t hide that, it actually only accentuated the fact that all these notes were from one person. But, alas, you never were able to find out who was sending them…
The scribbly and slightly slanted handwriting was a stark contrast to the nice and neat little square the paper was always folded into. It was funny, really, there was so much detail put into the folding of the paper but the handwriting was borderline unreadable unless you squinted and tilted your head to just the right angle. These notes were also never addressed with any name, any initials, anything; never even a clue as to who this person was, they never seemed to slip up and give away their identity. Which left you constantly playing the guessing game of who this person was and why they chose you to supply letters to. 
Each time a new note fell to the ground you’d look around, trying to spot if there was anyone lurking in the shadows and watching you. But, you never found anyone, at least, you never seemed to find someone who was actively watching you and your moves… if they were watching you they were doing it so discreetly that you never once thought anything of it. They were good at concealing their identity, really. 
Every little love note from your secret admirer, as Chrissy had called it, made its way into your folder. It brought a smile to your face every time the folder was opened, but you still wished you knew who exactly was writing the letters that put a huge smile on your face.
And more importantly… did they know they were putting these smiles on your face? Or, was all of this just a trick someone was playing on you? There’s no way you could have a secret admirer… right?
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You sighed, yawning softly as you put the combination into your locker on autopilot. You had a late night; a pep rally was directly after school and the championship basketball game followed soon after. So, that meant that you cheered your little butt off for the entire school during said pep rally and for the entire town that had decided to come out to the championship game. All the while the band played in the background to help keep everyone interacted with obnoxious sounds of basketball coming from the court. (You know, the dribbling, the squeaks of sneakers, the shouts from players and the crowd; yeah, all of that.) Fortunately, Hawkins had won the championship game; the first big win in years. Unfortunately, that meant that you were stuck being dragged to a party after the game with your best friends and fellow cheerleaders, Chrissy and Kate. Apparently despite being a school night, the win still needed to be celebrated. But, really, what was the point? The game was already done, the win already secured by Jason Carver as he made the game winning shot at the buzzer. 
God, what more was there to celebrate? You wanted to celebrate your bed. But, no. Instead you were dragged out of the gym and to the biggest party you’d ever been to. Chrissy and Kate assured you that you’d be back home by 9 o’clock at night, but once 11 o’clock hit your body was finally resting in your bed comfortably, only to lie awake for ages. The clock showing 1:25 in the morning was the last thing you remembered before finally falling asleep.
You felt like you were running on empty as you yawned yet again, desperately craving an overly sweet iced coffee flavored with caramel syrup with extra whipped cream on top and maybe some extra caramel drizzle on top of that light and fluffy whipped cream. Yeah… that sounded like heaven right now. Caffeine buzz… sugar buzz… honestly, either sounded like they would help at this point in time. After struggling with your locker combination a couple of times, you finally succeeded and opened your locker to grab your English textbook. As you flung the door open, a small folded piece of paper landed at your feet. 
You raised an eyebrow and looked down at the paper by your feet before looking around the hall to see if there was anyone watching you. When you didn’t see anyone actively paying attention to you, you shrugged, bending down to reach for the paper. 
You held the small, perfectly folded paper in your hands before you opened it carefully, reading the contents to yourself.
You looked really pretty at the school pep rally yesterday.
You blushed to yourself, folding the paper back up quickly. You stuffed it in your pocket and grabbed your English textbook, closing your locker. You turned when you heard your name, looking at Kate as she walked towards you with a big grin on her face. Clearly, she was not affected by the late night like you were. She was looking as peppy and chipper as ever… damn, how did she do it? Did she already down that sugary and caffeine filled coffee of your dreams without you?
“Hey, girl,” Kate smiled, bumping your shoulder with her own gently. “How’d you sleep?” She giggled, taking in your tired and disheveled looking appearance. “I texted you, you didn’t respond. I had thought maybe you didn’t wake up in time for school this morning!” 
Looking at Kate, you rolled your eyes as a small scoff left your mouth. “I saw your text, I just didn’t have the brain power to reply. And as for sleeping? I slept like hell, thanks,” you muttered, making the short walk to your English class. Kate walked alongside you, smiling at you.
“Sorry, girl, I thought maybe you could survive off of a few hours of sleep.” She teased, walking into the classroom with you. You sighed, sinking into your seat.
“I can’t,” you replied softly, grabbing your folder out of your backpack. You grabbed the tiny piece of paper from your pants pocket and slid it in the folder discreetly for safe keeping. “And, I think you know that I can’t. I’m going to be honest, I think the only solution at this point is an iced coffee with too much caramel and too much whipped cream.” 
“Damn. Well, you better wake up quick,” she smirked, watching you rest your head in your hands. “Don’t think you want detention with the freaks today.” She added, motioning towards the boys of the Hellfire club. Eddie and Jeff stood around Gareth’s desk, talking far too loud for only being 7 o’clock in the morning. They continued to laugh and talk amongst each other, something about camping? No, a campaign? What the hell was a campaign? You really weren’t sure what they were going on about this early in the morning… it seemed like a foreign language to you and the other students that heard their conversation.
“Kate, don’t call them that,” you yawned again, watching the three boys continue to laugh until the bell rang. “They’re not freaks,” you mumbled, smiling softly when you saw Gareth look at you and smile.
“They are totally freaks, though.” Kate muttered back, looking at the board in the front of the room. 
But you didn’t hear her. You just yawned again, giving Gareth one last smile before looking at the board as well. You were clinging to the hope that you could at least make it to lunch in order to get a nap in… who needed to eat anyways?
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You sat in study hall, reading The Great Gatsby to yourself as others around you mumbled and talked amongst themselves about various topics. No one else was doing any homework, and you didn’t really blame them. No one ever actually did homework in study hall… it was the class that students took to tell their parents they would be getting ahead of their schoolwork, but, really, it was just a free for all social hour. Even the teacher that watched study hall didn’t really care, she used this free time to pretend she was grading papers for her class but she was really just swiping through her latest dating app matches trying to find Mr. Right on her phone under the desk. And, it was kind of funny watching her sit and mumble to herself when she didn’t get a match she wanted but, also, this was Hawkins… not many suitors for a teacher at the local high school in her mid 30s. 
Normally you’d be sitting with Chrissy giggling with each other while watching the teacher as she aggressively swiped on her phone, mumbling to herself more. Then you’d move on to giggling about your latest cheer practice, then you’d be discussing the latest shade of nail polish you bought, then you’d go back to giggling about the latest funny video you saw online before finally discussing the newest skirt you had picked up at the mall. But, not today. Today you were just unlucky as Chrissy was sick which left you all alone in study hall. So, you might as well work on some homework… right?
While reading, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pouting to yourself when it moved over your ear again. You ran your fingers through your locks, sighing when you realized how short your hair actually was now. It framed your face perfectly—like you had wanted—but now it was too short to pull back into a ponytail, to place in a bun and apparently too short to even push back behind your ears to get it out of your face. 
Damn haircut.
You continued to attempt to push the strands of hair behind your ears before sighing to yourself, setting the book down on the table. You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked out the window, watching the wind blow the dry and brittle leaves around the field gently.
The sounds of the people talking around you started to become muffled as you continued to look out the window, watching the leaves dance through the air without a care in the world. There was a big gust of wind, the leaves flying through the wind freely, tauntingly almost, as you sat and watched. Your copy of The Great Gatsby sat long forgotten in front of you as your eyes followed the leaves outside the window.
You glanced over to the table in front of the window, watching as the Hellfire boys sat around in a circle having a very intense discussion. How do these boys always seem to be so in the zone and have the most intense conversations no matter the time of day? It kind of made you envious of the fact that they all enjoyed each other’s company and didn’t care what others around them thought—literally, they were so loud. They were polar opposites of so many others; most people in high school were so caught up in wanting to be popular and needing to fall into a specific category that they would do anything for it. But not these boys; no, these boys were different.
You watched as the boys continued to joke around with each other before Gareth stood up. He nodded at the others and walked past your table, smiling at you a little as he walked towards the door. You smiled at him before you glanced back at your book, picking it up again to attempt to dive back into the story you needed to desperately finish for English class. 
After a few minutes you were finally able to get back into your book. You became so engrossed in the story telling of Nick Carraway that you didn’t notice Gareth slip back into the room and back into his seat at the table with his Hellfire friends. They all went back to talking and joking with each other during the remainder of study hall. 
The annoying ring of the bell and the sound of your classmates packing their belongings up in a hurry was what finally pulled you out of your book. You sighed, marking the page you were on before you stuffed the book in your backpack and stood up, making your way out the door and down the hall to your locker. 
You put your combination in gracefully, opening the door to grab the correct books for your homework. A small piece of paper fell to your feet, landing on top of your converse shoes. You picked it up and unfolded it, reading the note to yourself.
You got a haircut; I like it. It looks good on you.
You blushed softly, reading the words on the paper before you glanced around you. There weren't many people roaming the hall at this time; it seemed like everyone was already out the door or on their way to practices and clubs. The only person walking towards you was your locker neighbor—Gareth. He smiled at you softly before he stopped next to you, putting the combination in his locker. You smiled back, holding the paper to your chest before you attempted to tuck the short strands of hair behind your ear again.
You grabbed your folder from your locker, placing the note inside carefully before shutting the door quietly. You glanced at Gareth, watching as he went through his less than tidy locker. Papers were scattered about the inside, crumpled and ripped and continuing to move with each movement he made.
“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, eyes stuck in his locker. He glanced at you and smiled a little. “Hey, uh, what’re the odds you know the homework we’re supposed to do for English tonight?” 
You smiled, looking at him with a slight nod. “Yeah, uh, here,” you replied, grabbing your planner from your bag. You turned it to the correct day before you handed it to him. Gareth smiled as he took his cellphone out of his pocket, snapping a picture of the homework you had written down. 
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver… I swear I had it written down but can’t find it.” He stopped for a second, looking up at you. “Did you get a haircut?” He asked softly, his smile growing more. 
You nodded, running your fingers through your now short hair. “Uh, yeah. I’m not a huge fan of it…”
“Well, I think it looks good on you,” Gareth replied, closing his locker. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked, looking at you. You smiled, a pink tint covering your cheeks.
“Yeah… see you tomorrow, Gareth…” Gareth nodded at your response, smiling again as he turned away and walked towards the theater room, catching up with his friends Jeff and Eddie. You stood there for a second, watching him leave and begin laughing again with his friends. 
“Hey?” Kate called your name, walking towards you. “You okay? What are you looking at?” She asked, stopping next to you. You hummed, turning towards her.
“Huh? Oh, uh, nothing. Sorry, I was kind of zoning out…” 
“Right, well, ready for practice?” She asked, looking at you.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry.” You replied, turning to walk towards the locker room. 
“What were you looking at?” Kate asked, walking alongside you. You shrugged, not wanting to admit to her that you were watching one of the freaks as she called him.
“Oh, nothing. I thought I heard something… you know?”
Kate raised an eyebrow, not believing you. “Yeah, sure.”
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“Stupid fucking glasses,” you muttered to yourself, squinting as you looked at the board in your World History class. You tried to move a bit closer, leaning over your desk as you scribbled some notes sloppily in your notebook. When you realized that even moving closer to the board wasn’t helping, you sighed to yourself. You sat back in your seat as your teacher continued to speak to the entire class, making more and more notes on the white board about the latest World History Lesson.
You took your glasses off and squinted again, trying to keep up with the notes that were being written on the board. A small groan escaped your lips as you gave up on reading the board, instead taking notes based on what your teacher was speaking aloud. 
Gareth glanced up at you as he took his own notes, noticing how you seemed to be struggling with seeing the board. He raised an eyebrow as you put your new glasses back on, eyes directly on your notebook now as you wrote down everything you heard. You attempted to keep up with the notes, struggling slightly as your pen moved across the paper in hasty scribbles, it would be a miracle if you could even reread these notes later. 
Once the bell rang you stood up and moved towards the front of the room, looking at the board once again only this time from a closer view. You quickly wrote down any of the notes you had missed, comparing your notebook to the board a few times before gathering your belongings. You snapped a quick picture of the notes on the board with your phone to compare later before you walked to your locker, smiling at Gareth slightly as he stood at his own locker. 
He smiled at you, nodding at you slightly. “Hey,” he said softly, grabbing his textbook for his next class. “New glasses?” He asked, motioning to his own face.
“Hey, uh, yeah… I, uh, I got them yesterday after school,” you replied, putting the combination into your locker. 
“Nice, well, they look good on you.” Gareth replied, closing his locker. “I really like the black frames on you, they really make your eyes pop.” 
“Thanks,” you smiled, blushing softly. You opened your locker and watched a folded piece of paper fall to your feet. You bent down to grab it, opening it slightly to read the contents to yourself. Your eyes skimmed over the note, squinting slightly as you took in the words that were written on the paper.
You got new glasses, huh? The black frames look totally badass on you. 
You blushed a bit, reading over the note again. Someone else had actually noticed your new glasses and thought they looked good? And, they even went out of their way to compliment you on your new glasses, putting this note in your locker for you to find? You smiled a little, thinking to yourself. You thought these new glasses were terrible… they were just too big and bulky. Not to mention, they kind of gave you a bit of a headache, and they made it difficult to see the board in class right now. You pushed your glasses up higher on the bridge of your nose, examining the note in greater detail. 
God, whose handwriting was that? Who did you know that could write in such a sloppy, slanted manner? And, why—no, how—was the paper always folded up so perfectly?
You folded the note back up and stuffed it into your pocket. Glancing up, you noticed Gareth was gone and was probably off to his next class by now.
“Hey!” You jumped at the sound of Chrissy walking towards you, giggling to herself. “Woah, you good girl?” She asked, looking at you with a smile. 
“Huh? Yeah, sorry, just… have a headache,” you mumbled, grabbing your notebook from your locker before shutting it quickly.
“Yeah, I’ve heard new glasses can do that to you.” She said softly with a small frown. “But, at least you can see, right?” 
“Something like that,” you replied, nodding as you looked at her. “Ready for class?” 
“Yeah, I guess.” Chrissy nodded, walking with you towards your next class. Your right hand made its way into your pocket, playing with the folded note gently. 
God, who was leaving these notes?
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“Oh my god, this is so weird,” you smiled from your seat at the cheerleader lunch table. You were sitting next to Chrissy and across from Kate, a wide smile on your face as you looked at both of them.
“What?” Kate asked, smiling at you.
“Yeah, what’re you going on about, girlie?” Chrissy smiled, taking a bite of her salad.
“This is like my first lunch without braces in god knows how long.” You smiled brightly, showing off your perfectly straight and shiny teeth. “There’s so many foods I can eat now like… I can have gum again, I can have potato chips, I can have popcorn. My god, I am so excited to eat all the food I haven’t been able to lately.” 
“How many selfies have you taken so far?” Chrissy giggled, looking at you with a smile. “I have to think you’ve at least taken a couple of selfies already to show off your brand new smile.”
You giggled, taking a bite of one of your baby carrots. “Maybe just a few… you know, just had to take some pictures and test out some new angles,” you smiled more, running your tongue over your teeth. It felt weird. It was smooth, and there were no more braces.
“I have to admit, you look good without the braces,” Kate smiled, looking at you. “Don’t get me wrong, you were always beautiful but you look so happy without them on.”
“Yeah, your smile is so contagious.” Chrissy smiled as well, agreeing with Kate. You smiled at them both, continuing to munch on your baby carrots with ranch.
“You’re both going to make me blush,” you giggled. You finished your lunch while joking with your friends before the bell rang. 
“Shit, I forgot I have a math test,” Kate said, standing up.
“Damn, that means I have a math test,” Chrissy groaned, standing up as well. They both looked at you and smiled, “see you after school, girl.” 
“Yep! See you at cheer practice,” you smiled, rising from your seat. You grabbed your items and made your way to your locker. You put your combination in and opened the door, watching yet again as a small piece of folded paper fell to your feet. This one was a little different, your name was on the outside of the paper with a small smiley face drawn next to it.
You bent down and picked up the paper, reading your name on the outside before you opened it, looking at the contents within.
No more braces, huh? God, your smile is breathtaking. 
You blushed a bright red, unable to hide the wide smile that was forming on your face. Who is the one person that keeps noticing these small little changes about you? And, follow up question, why do they feel the need to tell you through these notes? Are they seeing the smile that forms on your face after you read the notes? Are they doing it as a joke?
Reading over the note again, you smiled as you looked into your locker, reaching for your textbook. You grabbed your folder as well, placing the note inside before you closed the locker door and made your way towards your next class wearing the same smile you had when you first read the note—a huge, bright and contagious smile, as Chrissy called it. 
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“Have you figured out who your secret admirer is yet?” Kate, asked as you walked towards your lockers together after cheer practice was finally over. The halls were dim and empty, the three of you the only ones around for the time being. 
“It’s Steve! No, it’s Andy! Wait, maybe it’s Tommy,” Chrissy squealed, naming off all of the popular boys in your grade.
“Chrissy, come on, you’re just throwing names out left and right at this point,” Kate commented, shaking her head. You shrugged, walking towards your locker.
“I think you are both too invested in this,” you said, stopping at your locker. “I mean, they’re just little letters and I don’t even know who they’re from!” You said, putting your locker combination in. “It’s not a big deal.”
“They’re love letters,” Kate corrected, looking at you. “That is, like, so totally a big deal!”
“Yeah! This could be your future boyfriend! Your future husband, the father of your children,” Chrissy gushed, watching as you opened your locker.
“You two are just so—” you started, cutting yourself off as you looked into your locker. You raised your eyebrow, looking at the girls before redirecting your attention back to the locker. 
“We’re so what?” Chrissy asked, giggling.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Kate asked, moving to get a better look in your locker.
You picked up the single red rose that was sitting in your locker, holding it up. You lifted it to your nose, sniffing it gently before you noticed the piece of paper attached to it. You quickly unfolded it, reading the contents as a smile appeared on your face.
You’re the most beautiful girl in the world ♡
You looked up at Kate and Chrissy, smiles forming on their faces as well. “Still think it’s not a big deal?” Kate asked, taking a peek at the love note. “Someone is like, in love with you!”
“Oh, my god,” Chrissy squealed again, jumping up and down. “This is so perfect, oh my god, what if he’s planning on asking you to Prom?”
“Chrissy, I still don’t even know who he is,” you reminded her, looking down the hall to see if you could find anyone. Then again, it was after school and clubs… not too many people were still here willingly. No, just a few teachers and the janitors tended to linger around the building at this time.
“Come on, it has to be Steve, he’s always watching you while we’re cheering!” Chrissy smiled, looking at you. 
“Oh, my god, picture it,” Kate smiled, joining in on Chrissy’s excitement. “Prom; Chrissy and Jason, me and Billy, and you and Steve!”
“Isn’t he with Nancy?” You asked, sniffing the rose again. Kate shook her head rapidly. 
“No! They broke up!”
“Yeah, she’s with Jonathan now,” Chrissy added, looking at you. “Oh, god, I hope it’s Steve!” 
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at your two friends and their speculations. You grabbed your things and smiled at them, closing your locker. “You guys are crazy,” you said, looking at them. “But, I have to go. I have to go work on a World History project with my partner.”
“Partner?” Chrissy asked, gasping slightly. “Wait, is it Steve?” 
“Or Andy? Or Tommy?” Kate asked, giggling with Chrissy. You shook your head and looked at them.
“No, it’s Gareth.” 
“The freak?” Chrissy asked. You shook your head slightly and looked at her.
“Don’t call him that, he’s actually pretty nice… I think,” you replied, shrugging slightly.
“Oh, god, don’t tell me you have a crush on one of the freaks,” Kate said softly, rolling her eyes. 
“Look, I have to go. I’m already late, I texted him and told him I’d be there around five and it’s almost five thirty!” You panicked, grabbing your phone to send Gareth a text. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bye!” You added, running towards the door as you typed out a text to Gareth. 
You made it to your car and started the short drive to Gareth’s house from the high school. He had sent you a text back that you read once you pulled up to his house, a text back that just said ‘it’s fine, no biggie,’ but to you it felt like a biggie, in fact, it felt like a big biggie. You hated being late and even more, you hated blowing people off. You grabbed your bag and hopped out of the car, walking towards the front door; taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer. 
After a minute or so a cute little girl opened the door. She was probably around seven or so and looked just like Gareth—she had blue eyes, fluffy hair with little curls thrown about and an adorable smile with a tooth missing in the front. She held a small baby blue teddy bear under her arm and smiled up at you.
“Hi! I’m Gracie,” she beamed, looking at you.
“Hi, Gracie,” you smiled at her. “Is Gareth home?”
She nodded and giggled, turning around. “Gare! Your girlfriend is here!” She turned back to you and smiled, “you’re pretty.”
You blushed softly as she called you her brother’s girlfriend, smiling a little. “Why, thank you, Gracie.” After a minute Gareth came walking to the front door, looking at Gracie.
“Why are you yelling at me?” He asked, noticing you at the door. He smiled at you slightly before looking back at Gracie.
“I said your girlfriend is here,” Gracie said, pointing to you. “She’s pretty, Gare, are you going to kiss her?” 
You stifled a laugh, biting your lip as you looked at her with a small smile. Gareth turned a bright shade of red before he shook his head, pointing towards the living room. “Okay, that’s enough. Don’t you have a tea party to get back to?” Gracie gasped and nodded, looking at Gareth.
“You’re right! Mr. Fluffy is waiting for me!” And with that Gracie was running back to her tea party, forgetting you were even at the door. Gareth shook his head and looked up at you, still a bit pink as he stepped to the side and motioned for you to come in.
“Hey, uh, sorry about… her,” he said softly, closing the door behind you as you walked in. “She’s got… quite the imagination,” Gareth trailed off, looking into the living room as he watched his sister go back to her tea party with her stuffed animals. “We can go to my room,” he said, directing his attention back to you with a small smile.
“That sounds good,” you nodded, smiling as you followed him into the house and up the stairs. Along the way, you took note of all the decorations in the house. There were so many family pictures on the walls along with various other pictures. You lingered on one slightly, smiling at what appeared to be Gareth when he was younger with his parents. He was standing in front of their house in between his mom and dad with a toothless grin on his face, his hair was a mess, a fluffy mop on his head. You smiled softly, eyes flickering from the picture back to the boy in front of you. 
He stopped in front of a door that had a Metallica poster on the back and opened it, motioning for you to go first. You smiled at him, stepping into his room as you looked around. There were metal posters everywhere as well as pictures of him and his friends hanging on the wall. His dresser had a ton of little dragon figurines on it with a book that said Dungeons and Dragons Player’s Handbook. 
“Sorry, it’s kind of messy,” Gareth apologized, moving some of his clothes off of his bed. “I’m actually so terrible at putting my clothes away… very toxic trait of mine,” he mumbled, walking towards his closet. You giggled softly, watching him walk past you.
“Oh, mine too, it’s okay,” you smiled, watching him throw the clothes in his closet.
“You can take a seat on my bed, get comfy or whatever, we might be here for a bit.” He said, looking back at you. You glanced at his bed, taking note of the dark colored bedspread and blankets. You walked towards it, sitting gently. You grabbed your textbook and notebook from your bag, placing them on the bed in front of you as you grabbed a pen. You placed your bag down beside you and jumped when you felt the bed move, looking back to see a black cat staring at you curiously.
“Oh, hi,” you said softly, reaching out to pet the cat gently. Gareth closed his closet door and grabbed his notebook and textbook as well, looking back at his bed with a smile.
“Oh yeah, sorry, I probably should have warned you about him. You’re not like allergic or anything are you?” He asked, sitting next to you on his bed. You shook your head, scratching the cat behind his ears as he started purring, nuzzling against your leg. “Well, that’s Ozzy.” He smiled, “he’s kind of an attention whore.”
“Well, hi Ozzy,” you smiled, scratching his head more. “You are so cute, Gareth didn’t tell me he had such a cute little kitty friend at home.” Gareth smiled a little, watching you interact with Ozzy.
“I kind of forgot you’ve never been to my house, otherwise I would have warned you about Gracie too.” He said, opening his notebook to his most recent notes.
“Yeah, I didn’t know you had a sister either,” you nodded, looking at him with a small smile. “She’s cute, though. She looks just like you.”
“Yeah, I get that alot.” Gareth replied, setting his notebook down as he tapped his thighs for Ozzy. Ozzy meowed and walked towards him, jumping into his lap before he curled up in a ball, purring more. “She is definitely the cuter sibling.”
You giggled to yourself, looking at your notebook in front of you. You smiled as you glanced at his notebook and stopped in your tracks when you saw his notes on the page. More specifically, when you saw his handwriting on the notebook page. That consistent scribbly, slanted handwriting was staring at you, teasing you; taunting you and calling out to you. 
Why? Because you know you’ve seen it before.
In fact, you’ve seen that handwriting so often recently. And it was currently sitting in your folder on numerous pieces of paper as well as sitting in your car with a bright red rose. 
You glanced up at him, watching as he continued to pet Ozzy on his lap.
Holy shit.
Gareth Emerson was your secret admirer. 
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You walked through the gym in your red ball gown, weaving through the groups of people. While you had come to this dance with Chrissy and Kate, they were off now dancing with their boyfriends. Which was fine, it just meant that you were now alone for the time being. 
You made your way towards the punch table, grabbing yourself a cup before you took in your surroundings. You glanced around the room, sipping on the punch. Your eyes landed on the one person you were looking for–Gareth Emerson. He was sitting alone at a table in the corner, messing with his tie. 
It had been about a month since you had realized that Gareth was the one supplying the letters in your locker. And, since that day, his letters haven't stopped… in fact, they have actually increased to coming daily. Sometimes even twice a day. You wondered if he knew that you knew who he was… if he did know that you knew, he was doing an amazing job at hiding it. If he didn’t know then… well, he was just crazy.
Because you had been wanting to say something to him ever since the eventful day when you first recognized his handwriting and found out who he was. You just never found the right time. At least, until tonight—prom night. For some reason, tonight seemed like the perfect time to tell him, to show him, to confess your mutual feelings that had been growing towards him since you started spending time with him one on one. 
It was prom after all, wasn’t tonight about love and relationships and all that other cheesy shit?
You smiled to yourself and grabbed another cup of punch carefully. You made your way towards the table Gareth was sitting at, taking a seat next to him. He looked up at you and smiled, “hey, you, uh, you look great,” Gareth said, taking in your appearance. He smiled softly as he watched the red lace fabric hug your upper body and curves before it flowed into a poofy ball gown skirt at your hips. Damn, you looked too good in that, and red was always his favorite color. Curse you for picking up on that and for wearing it specifically for him.
“Thanks,” you smiled, setting both cups of punch down on the table. “You clean up pretty well too, you know.” You giggled, looking at him. “I have to admit, I’m pretty surprised you’re here. School dances don’t seem like your kind of thing. But, I brought you some punch.” 
Gareth blushed softly, shrugging as his fingers continued to play with the end of his red tie. “Thanks. And, I had to wear this suit somewhere, you know?” He replied, looking up at you. “Are you… uh, all alone tonight?” He asked, his right hand moving towards the cup of punch you placed in front of him. 
“Kind of,” you responded, looking at him with a smile. “I came with Kate and Chrissy but they’re with Jason and Billy.” You motioned towards your friends who were dancing with their boyfriends. You hung your purse on the edge of your chair before resting your arms on the table. You looked at Gareth with a smile on your face, “what about you?”
Gareth smiled, looking at you. “What about me?” He asked, taking a drink of the overly sweet punch you had brought him.
“I mean,” you smiled, “where are your friends? Or are you also all alone tonight?”
“Ah,” he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Kind of? Eddie is flirting with girls, trying to get someone to dance with him and, honestly, I’m not too sure where Jeff and Grant ended up…”
“And you’re not asking any girls to dance?” You asked, looking at Gareth. He looked up at you and shook his head.
“Oh, no, I don’t think any girl would want to dance with me anyways…”
“That’s not true,” you replied, “I bet there are plenty of girls that would like to dance with you.”
“Yeah, right,” Gareth shook his head. “Like who?”
You shrugged, smiling at him. “Good question.” You reached for your purse, pulling out a small piece of folded paper. You handed it to him and giggled softly.
He looked at you and raised an eyebrow, looking down at the folded piece of paper in his hand. He unfolded it carefully, looking at the contents carefully. 
Will you dance with me, my secret admirer? ♡
Gareth read the paper and looked up at you, turning a bright red. “How, uh… how did you know it was… me?” He asked softly, folding the paper back up. He tucked it into his jacket pocket gently, eyes on you again as he looked you up and down subtly. 
“Well, your handwriting during our History project kind of gave it away for me,” you giggled. “So, will you dance with me?” You asked, standing up. You placed your hand out for Gareth to grab, smiling when he stood up and placed his hand in yours.
“Of course I’ll dance with you,” he said softly, pulling you towards the dance floor just in time for a slow song. “Though, I must admit, I am terrible at dancing.” 
“Yeah, me too,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck gently. Gareth smiled softly, placing his hands on your hips gently. 
“You’re not like… I don’t know… weirded out by me placing those notes and stuff in your locker, are you?” He asked softly, pulling you closer to his body gently.
“No, not really… should I be?” You asked, smiling up at him. “If we’re being honest with each other, I have always had a tiny bit of a crush on you and I was secretly hoping you were the one planting all the letters for me…” 
“Really?” Gareth asked softly, swaying with you to the music. “Well, if we’re being honest with each other… the truth is I’ve had a crush on you for quite a while, and, I guess I was just… nervous that you wouldn't like a freak like me,” Gareth admitted softly, leaning closer to you.
“What do you mean?” You asked, moving your face closer to his.
“Well, you’re a cheerleader, I’m a freak… we just, don’t really go together, you know?” 
“Why are you calling yourself a freak?” You frowned. 
“Because, well, that’s kind of what I am? You’re popular and I’m just, well, a freak.”
“No,” you argued, shaking your head. “You’re really cool and really sweet and to be honest… being popular doesn’t mean anything. I like you for you, and truth is; I’d love to get to know the real you more.” 
“Really?” Gareth asked, smiling softly. 
“Really.”
“Well, uh, in that case,” Gareth said, leaning closer. “Can I… uh, can I kiss you?” He asked softly. 
“Please,” you replied. 
Gareth smiled and leaned in closer, placing his lips against yours softly. You smiled, kissing him back as your fingers played with his hair on the back of his neck gently. Gareth’s right hand moved up to your face, caressing your cheek softly as he pulled you closer to him with his left hand that was still placed in your hip. 
He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Would you, maybe, uh, want to go out with me sometime?” He stuttered out softly, looking at you. 
“Absolutely.” You replied, leaving another soft kiss on his lips.
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gareth tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @darkyuffie-blog ; @luveediary ; @the-witty-pen-name ; @bastardstevie ; @pupwrites ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @the-unforgivenn ; @corrodedcorpses ; @potatoesenpaii ; @cowboylikemunson
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nameless-jamie · 1 day ago
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You And Me As Always
Valentine's Day Special - Day 5 - FINALE
Jamie Tartt x PA reader
Masterlist Valentine' Special
TW: cursing, jealousy
A/N: Hi guys I wanted to end this Valentine'S Special strong, so here's a ff with yall's fav pining pair Jamie and his assistant. Thank you for all the love this series received. I deem this series officially finished now! Maybe I will do something like this more often! I love you all. Happy Valentine's Day!
Valentine’s Day at AFC Richmond was always a bit of a spectacle.
Between the lads showing off their grand romantic gestures, the inevitable teasing in the locker room, and the ridiculous amounts of chocolate that somehow ended up in Jamie’s locker (half from fans, half from the team just to wind him up), it was always a thing.
And for the past few years, Jamie and Y/N had their own little thing too.
Every Valentine’s, without fail, they’d surprise each other with something small—nothing fancy, just a little reminder that they thought about each other. A coffee waiting on her desk with a heart drawn in the foam, a sticky note in his locker that said Try not to be a dick today—Happy Valentine’s. It was never a big deal.
At least, that’s what Y/N kept telling herself.
Because it wasn’t a big deal.
Except, maybe, it sort of was.
Because she was hopelessly, stupidly in love with Jamie Tartt. And he, being Jamie, had no clue.
Which was why she had tried so hard this year to actually do something different. Both of them actually didn't do a thing for each other this year...
She had a blind date tonight. To get her mind of their thing.
Rebecca had set it up, going on and on about how Y/N needed to “get out there” and “stop wasting time waiting for things that might never happen.” Which was fair. It was probably about time she tried dating again.
So why did she feel like bailing?
Maybe it was because she knew how tonight would go. She’d go on the date, make polite conversation, and the whole time, she’d just be thinking about how much she’d rather be spending the evening bantering with Jamie.
But whatever. It was fine.
It wasn’t like Jamie actually wanted to spend Valentine’s with her.
Right?
The locker room was full of buzzing energy that afternoon.
The lads were in rare form, all hyped up and comparing their plans for the night.
“Gonna be massive, lads,” Isaac declared, clapping his hands together. “Got a whole weekend planned—spa day, private dinner, the works.”
“Mate,” Bumbercatch shook his head. “You just won Valentine’s Day.”
“Oi, I always win Valentine’s Day.”
The guys laughed, each chiming in about their own plans. Sam had something elegant planned—dinner and dancing. Dani, of course, was “taking Valentine’s Day as an opportunity to celebrate love with the whole world!” Which, for him, probably meant a party with half of Richmond.
And then, predictably, someone turned to Jamie.
“What about you, Tartt?” Colin smirked. “Surely the great Jamie Tartt’s got a big night planned.”
Jamie, lacing up his boots, just smirked.
“Oh, yeah. Got a hot date.”
The guys whistled.
“Ooohhh, Tartt’s got a mystery girl,” Jan teased.
“She’s well fit, right?” Isaac asked.
Jamie leaned back, completely unbothered. “Fittest girl I know. A model.”
And then, without meaning to, his eyes immediately flicked toward Y/N, who was busy folding Jamie's dirty football kits... That was certainly not her job.
She hadn’t looked up. Hadn’t reacted at all.
Was she even listening?
He frowned slightly. Not that he wanted her to react.
Except, maybe, he did.
“You’re being weird about it, boyo” Colin teased. “That means it’s someone we know, yeah?”
“Maybe.” Jamie smirked. “Maybe not.”
The guys groaned.
“Such a prick,” Isaac muttered.
“Yeah, yeah.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “What about Y/N? You got plans tonight?”
Y/N, overhearing her name, turned around just in time to see all the lads looking at her expectantly.
“Oh. Uh… yeah, actually,” she said, clearing her throat. “I have a date.”
Jamie’s smirk immediately dropped.
The fuck?
Since when did Y/N have a date? Since when did Y/N go on dates in general?
“Wait, wait, wait.” Dani waved his hands. “You? A date? But it’s always you and Jamie on Valentine’s Day!”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“Yeah, you two always do your little… thing.” Sam smiled. “The coffee and the notes, the little looks you give each other. It’s like a tradition.”
“That’s—” Y/N faltered. “That’s not… I mean, yeah, but it’s not like a thing.”
“Sounds like a thing,” Colin grinned.
“Shut up.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “And yes, I have a date. Rebecca set it up.”
Jamie frowned, arms crossing.
“A blind date?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“Yeah.”
Jamie scoffed. “That’s fuckin’ stupid, love.”
Y/N frowned. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, c’mon,” Jamie said, leaning back against his locker. “You don’t even know the bloke. Could be a proper weirdo.”
“Or he could be great,” she shot back. “Not everyone’s a weirdo, Jamie.”
Jamie shrugged, hating the way his chest felt tight. “Still think it’s stupid.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”
He wanted to say Don’t go.
Instead, he just huffed, looking away.
And for the first time, Y/N really thought about canceling.
She lasted exactly seven minutes at the restaurant.
She had shown up, sat at the table, and listened to her date talk about his favorite wine pairings for way too long before realizing she wasn’t even really there. Physically, sure. But her mind? It was somewhere else entirely—somewhere that smelled like expensive cologne and fabric softener, somewhere that had an annoying yet undeniably attractive accent teasing her about how stupid blind dates were.
She had barely muttered an excuse before she was out the door, coat wrapped tightly around her as she stepped into the cold night air. But now what? Going home felt wrong. Like she was admitting defeat. And if she was being honest, there was only one place she really wanted to be.
So she found herself in front of Jamie’s door, hands shoved deep into her coat pockets as she bit her lip, debating whether this was a really bad idea or just a regular bad idea. She hadn’t even texted him. Had no clue if he was home. But for some reason, her feet had taken her here anyway. Maybe because, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, this is where she belonged.
When the door finally swung open, Jamie leaned against the frame, raising an eyebrow as a slow smirk played on his lips. “Well, well. Thought you had a hot date.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thought you did.”
Jamie shrugged, stepping aside to let her in. “Yeah, well. She bailed. Some last-minute modeling thing.”
She snorted, kicking off her shoes as she walked past him into the warmth of his flat. “You’re full of shit.”
“Am not.”
“Jamie.” She turned to him, arms crossed. “You never had a date, did you?”
He hesitated for only a second before giving her a lopsided grin. “Maybe. Maybe not. Guess we'll never know.”
A laugh bubbled out of her, and Jamie took that as a win.
“So what happened?” he asked, flopping onto the couch, patting the empty space beside him. “Blind date bloke turn out to be a twat?”
She sighed, sitting down next to him. “No. He was… nice.”
Jamie made a face. “Nice?”
“Yes, nice.” She pulled a throw blanket over her lap. “But I didn’t want nice.”
Jamie’s smirk faltered slightly. “No?”
She shook her head. “No. I wanted this. Our Valentine's thing.”
Jamie’s throat went dry.
“Not normal Valentine’s Day, or big grand gestures, or some random guy Rebecca thinks I’d like,” she continued, voice softer now. “Just… this.”
Jamie swallowed hard.
They sat on her couch, watching dumb movies, sharing cheap chocolates, and teasing each other relentlessly.
And when she dozed off halfway through the film, leaning against Jamie’s shoulder, he barely breathed.
Because it was always them.
And no matter how much they tried to pretend otherwise, it always would be.
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blacktofade · 2 days ago
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I am quite new to Tumblr and while I know that this isn't what you usually post you are one of the only rpf writers that I actively know of and you seem to know the community so I thought I would just ask you
But no pressure to answer if you don't want to
I am writing a nsfw fanfic of rpf Arizona Dads but it is reader insert and I have no clue how to tag these types of things on Tumblr. (Ex Twitter-User here 😬) especially since that recent discourse I am just afraid of tagging stuff incorrectly but since my blog is entirely new I don't think anyone would see this, if I don't tag it, right?
I'm just a little confused and thought I would ask, really hope you don't mind
Hello darling anon!!!! Welcome to Tumblr! I'm actually thrilled you reached out to me with this question cause I'm like a broody chicken where I want to tuck everyone under my feathers and keep them safe!
Tagging for MCYT fandoms has been a learning curve for me, so you're definitely not alone in your confusion. The advice I give is just from personal experience, so I welcome anyone reading this to offer corrections if need be!
Also, when I say maintag, I mean it's a tag on a new post you've created. Adding tags on something you reblog doesn't put that post in the tags for others to see, it's just for personal organization on your blog. (I've had people get mad at me for reblogging something with a "maintag" and honestly they can suck my dick to the base. That's not how Tumblr works.)
So, from what I can tell, if it's NSFW content, don't maintag "hermitcraft" or any CCs/characters. For example, if you're posting a fic about giving Tango the big time sloppy head he deserves, don't tag it with "tangotek". You should instead use a tagging system for your own blog. In this case, you could use the tag "t.angotek". It will stop the post appearing in Tango's maintag, but would be easy to navigate on your own blog.
RPF is a whole other can of worms, cause people don't like if you tag that with "hermitshipping". I tend to use "hermitshipping rpf", and I haven't been yelled at so far LOL
Ship tags are much harder when you get into multiple pairing territory. I think in your case, I might just be tempted to use an "arizona dad" tag. Maybe run a search and check what kind of content is in that tag first and decide if you want your post to show up there.
Then because it's reader insert fic, I'd use "reader fic" and/or "reader insert fic" tags.
Basically, sharing NSFW RPF content in this fandom is impossible in the maintags, so basically no one will see it, like you said. It really sucks. If you want it to be found, the trick is to make friends with The Perverts of the fandom, cause we all just reblog posts amongst ourselves lmfao
Start following RPF friendly blogs, cause we're a pretty small community but everyone is VERY friendly and willing to boost content.
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somuchbetterthanthat · 2 days ago
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Thinking something that's perhaps a little mean, but I think Martin is not easily liked in the exact opposite way that Jon is not easily liked.
Jon, orphaned at like 6, with a grandmother whom he felt like he was a burden to (regardless of her own actual feelings and actions), already bullied at 8 year old by older teenagers, probably decided early on that, yeah. He was a prick, and he was not easy to love, and too bad for everything else, that was fine by him, he would just Keep Being a Prickly Human Being because That's Who He Was (possibly reinforced later on by other events, like, say, his breakup with Georgie, etc.) He's just easily mean and off-putting and if you go past his shields you will find someone who is STILL kind of a smug prick but also will give you so much love and affection, and blindly at that.
Martin, though, growing up with dad that left, a mother that hates him and yet relies on him for everything, with apparently no other grown up ever worrying enough about his life situation, grows up thinking that he just doesn't really matter, that he's not important or WORTHY of love, that his actions have very little consequences on the outside world, but also CRAVING to be loved and recognized while having no clue, probably, apart from what he witnessed from stories and things happening around him. That made him, especially early-seasons him, a try hard. Martin reeks of a quiet desperation every time he awkwardly laughs at your joke, maybe too hard or a beat too late; Martin offers tea just a bit too much. Martin's smile a bit too eager, too big, too friendly, please like me, i want to be liked, but also i don't know how to be liked, so just like. play pretend with me. Please?? Martin's clumsy and does not pay attention to certain things and is surprised when people Do pay attention to it because usually he can just. brush it off with a haha, silly me.
Martin thinks "gentle pity" or "bare minimum politeness and friendliness" is the best he can HAVE and you know what it'll hurt and sting but he's so thirsty for any sort of human connection he'll TAKE IT.
It's why people like Sasha, Basira or Melanie easily dismissed him; it's why Tim, overly good guy and Big BrotherTM, was the most friendly to him until he could NOT deal with Martin's Over Friendliness anymore (and was surprised when Martin actually blew off at him, actually revealing what he truly felt).
Also hot take it's part of why Jon can't like him at first, why Martin WANTS Jon to like him at first (or at least TRIES HARD to be at "bare minimum"), and I am a firm believer that Martin recognizing 1. Jon actually caring about his fears and protecting him in S1 and 2. Jon being actually as lonely as Martin as always felt deep down in S2 is the reason why Martin starts to be more genuinely himself with Jon in a slow "oh i am falling for him and i need to take care of him like he took care of me" and Martin acting like that IS the reason why Jon falls for him in return, a mixed of recognizing Martin's actual competency and cleverness AND Martin just. ignoring Jon's meaness to be like "no. I will care for you and like you and be there for you" stubborness, which is the key to Jon's heart.
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freetalessimian · 23 hours ago
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Quick question that no one will know. WHERE TF ARE THEY??
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You can already see weapons. Theres also an arch, so maybe the mountain used to have a building???
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I just want to know where it is and the lore 😭 why did Mac choose this mountain, whats the history behind it. Was it just because it was secluded? I can’t imagine it’s THAT far from the city because Mk would have been more cautious if so right?
(Yeah ill just go on a field trip with my new sketchy mentor to who knows where😄 thats not a terrible idea at all. Im the Monkie Kid)
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Oh yay, dead people already, great signs. Also did Mac make them climb all those stairs? Man, he was really pushing Mk to his limit. Did he climb with Mk? Was it just awkward silence or was it a checkpoint thing like a video game 😭 just occasionally hes there again like (Great job just a little further 🙂)
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I NEED TO KNOW. What battle was happened here? Was it from the jttw, or just a random battle? Was it specific to Macaque or Wukong in anyway? Theres swords and spears littering the ground. And skeletons. It was definitely a battle ground. I believe we’ve only seen a few of these? So they’re might be clues in flashbacks?
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Perhaps its Sandy’s or maybe Macaque’s? Both have spears in the ground. Though we don’t have many clues as to where the battles took place besides that Sandys flack back happened on a mountain but the place probably wasn’t a factor as it was triggered by the situation. And Macaques you can see a mountain range
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I couldn’t really find anything that matches. However if this were the case and THE battle really happened on this mountain it’d be quite interesting, but would surprisingly give me a lot to work with to make a timeline.
For instance if either battles happened on that mountain then it would have had to of been after the main jttw, or after Sun Wukongs circlet was removed. As I believe it is closer to his mountain, or at least the city. Which he would not have been near during the journey westwards, as we know his island is in the east, near the Dragon of the East’s palace.
I think Wukong in lmk either continued the pilgrimage without the circlet or they wrote most of the scenes to take place after, like the Samadhi fire. As we can see the group is still together, and Tripiaka is still their master. But Wukong is NOT wearing the circlet, so this probably takes place after. So that means other chapters could have been rewritten to be after the main journey west, and the groups just stuck together? Or perhaps get back together to do errands for the celestial realm like in this scene with Nezha.
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Its not a crazy assumption to think that Macaques defeat and possibly death took place after the main jttw or when Sun Wukong returned home as we see Dbks defeat/death also took place after. Perhaps Wukong was just tying up loose ends 😃
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Oh I ran out of photo room but In Macaque’s flashback Wukong isn’t wearing the circlet there either.
Makes me wonder just how much of the journey to the west they altered in Lego Monkie Kid, was the Lady Bone Demon’s defeat even in the early chapters? Was Macaques death before or after hers? THERE IS SO MANY LORE QUESTIONS, That if I got the answers to them It would change even more of my inner timeline than you’d expect.
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dont-sneeze · 2 days ago
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Another Cheesy Solangelo Valentine story:
"Doctor Solace?" One of the nurses knocked on the break room door the second Will pulled out his frozen lasagna box to microwave for his lunch. "There's someone here to see you. They say they're very sick and need to speak with you immediately."
Will's brow furrowed as he paused his way to the microwave. "If they're that sick, shouldn't they go to the ER?"
The nurse shrugged. "They're requesting you and I don't think they're going to leave without seeing you."
Sighing, Will put his lunch back. He actually had a full hour for lunch today, something he worked hard on making sure he kept clear of appointments, and was really looking forward to it, but of course it wasn't actually going to happen. He just hoped that whatever this was, it would be quick. He promised Nico he'd call–A valentines date over the phone while he was on lunch wasn't ideal, but Nico was out of town visiting Hazel and Frank for the week, so they had to work with what they had.
"They're in examination room 30B." The nurse informed him before leaving.
That should have been his first clue. 30B? Why would the nurse put them in that room? It wasn't ever used for an examination room anymore. In fact, it was the unofficial break room for the staff who just needed a moment or two to themselves and to collect their thoughts in peace and quiet.
Once he approached the door, his second clue should have been the gentle music that was playing from inside the room. Abba's Lay All Your Love on Me was starting into the second verse. Slowly, completely confused, he pushed the door open.
The light's were off, and the blinds were down, but on the floor were a few artificial candles which casted a soft glow around the room, letting him see the blanket spread out on the floor, scattered rose petals on it, the picnic basket that seemed to be overflowing with his favorite foods, and his fiance, sitting on the blanket with a cheeky smile on his face.
"Surprise?" Nico greeted.
Will stepped inside and closed the door behind him, attempting, but failing, to hide the stupid grin on his face as he stepped over to him. "What in the world are you doing here?"
"Didn't the nurse tell you? I'm extremely sick. You're the only hope I have for a cure." Nico pulled himself up off the ground.
"Oh, are you now? What are you sick with?"
"Lovesickness." He took Will's hand in his, kissing it.
Will snorted, amused, and completely in love. "I can tell." He gestured to his freehand at the romantic display in front of him. "None of this is like you at all. What's gotten into you? Also, aren't you supposed to be on the other side of the country with your sister right now? Please don't tell me you cut off your trip with her just for this."
His shoulders dropped, just a bit, before he shrugged. "Frank and Hazel had an emergency foster kid placed with them. Of course they told me I could stay, but I know how important those first few days are and I didn't want to get in the way."
"So instead you flew back home…and bought overpriced and very cheesy valentines decorations, set them up at my work, and had one of my colleagues trick me?"
"It wasn't a trick!" Nico grinned, clearly proud of himself. "I really am lovesick. I missed you, so much, even if it has only been a few days."
Will took Nico's face in his hands, gently pressing a kiss to his hair. "I missed you too. The apartment feels so empty without you. But that still doesn't explain all this." He once again gestured to the room.
Nico shrugged. "We've never really celebrated like this before. I thought you'd enjoy it."
"Every single year, you've told me that it's cheesy and a marketing scheme."
"Yeah, because it is. But that doesn't mean you think that. I realized I never asked you how you felt about it all."
At that, Will bent down to kiss his fiance. "I love you," was Will's reply. "And I'll love you the same, rose petals and candles from Aphrodite herself, or skeletons of the undead from your dad. Whatever you give me, whatever you do for me, is a gift I will love and always treasure."
Nico just about melted at those words. "Good. Because buying all this was almost painful. The clerk at the checkout desk said whoever I was buying these for was a real lucky lady. So you better feel lucky."
Will snorted and wrapped his arms around Nico. "I'm the luckiest lady." He teased, holding him close. "I missed you, Nico."
"And I missed you." Nico eventually pulled back and handed Will a large wrapped box. "I got you something while I was at Hazel's. She took me for a walk along the beach- I saw it at a craft market on the beach and couldn't help but think of you."
Will hand to use both hands to open the gift, wrapped in black wrapping paper with silver little hearts and skulls on it. He handed Nico a piece of the wrapping. "This is much more you." He pointed out with a smile. "I knew you were still in there under all the candles and rose petals."
Nico laughed at that, taking the paper from him obediently, but he was clearly nervous as Will opened the present.
To Will's surprise, it wasn't a box that was wrapped, it was a guitar case. Inside sat a beautiful, hand painted acoustic guitar. The design on it was sunflowers, bright and light and everything that Will was to Nico.
"Nico…" Will whispered as he took it out of the case, as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Then he noticed on the back, there was a different design, the sunflowers beautifully fading into an intricate galaxy of stars.
Nico shuffled his feet a bit, blushing. "I know you've been looking for a new guitar since your old one broke, and I know next to nothing about guitars, so it's probably not even the right kind you were looking for but-"
"It's perfect." Will looked at him through teary eyes, not even trying to hide them. "Thank you. I love it. I love you."
Nico stepped forward again, pointing to hand painted words on the very bottom of the guitar. "I had the artist write this when I bought it…"
Thank you for being the sun in my galaxy.
"It's so cheesy, I know, but.." He trailed off with a shy shrug.
"It's a good thing I really like Cheese. Especially this kind." Will grinned, and after another look over the instrument, he placed it back in the case and wrapped Nico in his arms again. "If we weren't already engaged, I'd propose to you right here on the spot."
Nico couldn't help but laugh. "On valentines day, no less. When did you become such a romantic?"
Will laughed as well. "What can I say? You know just how like my cheese."
"I'd say yes again, by the way. If you asked me."
Kissing his head again, Will's smile only grew. "I'm very happy to hear that."
"And I can't wait." Nico grabbed Will's hand to admire the simple black band on his finger. "But there's also icecream in that picnic basket that can't wait either–if we don't eat it right now, it will for sure be soup."
As they sat down, their sides pressed into one another and Will's arm around Nico, they began to empty the basket, while Abba continued to sing Lay all Your Love on Me from Nico's phone.
"Do you just have this song on repeat?"
Nico quickly grabbed it and turned it off. "Yes. I wanted it playing when you walked in, but I didn't know how long you'd take to get here so I put it on repeat, and then I forgot about it."
"And why that song?"
"Because it's the only sappy love song I can stand hearing more than once. ....and I know Abba is one of your favorite groups."
Will snorted again.
"...and I know Abba is your favorite."
"Aww." He kissed Nico's head. "I really have misssed you, you know." Will said once more as he grabbed a spoon, feeding a bite of very soft but not quite soup icecream to Nico, before taking a bite himself.
"Sorry it's all melty."
"Soup ice cream with you is better than frozen lasagna on a phone call with you." He pointed out. "Of course, I won't complain that those were my plans, I was just happy to talk to you. But this? This is much, much better." Will decided he'd never seen a more beautiful sight than Nico's relaxed, happy smile in the low light from the candles. "Happy marketing scheme day, my love."
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son-solo-palabrass · 2 days ago
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This blog is slowly turning into a Yellowjackets stan acc and I'm not even mad about it so it's time to share my experience watching the show as a former Scouts group member, as well as someone who used to have the same kind of friendship as jackie and shauna had w their best friend. (Not romantically tho) (I was the Shauna of the situation)
So, I was a Scout Girl from ages 11 till 17 aprox and in that group I met this girl who'd end up being like the Jackie to my Shauna; we were the best of friends, we did everything together, we grew up together, we went through adolescence together and, eventually, we broke apart bc of the trauma we shared (not as bad trauma as The Girls, of course). This girl was EVERYTHING to me, she was the first person I told about the eating disorder I developed as a teen, the first person I told about my sexuality conflicts, and the first person I tried drugs with. We had a bond like no other and I honestly thought we would be Best Friends Forever. She was the It Girl in my Scouts group and I was happy to be her Second on everything.
I wouldn't say I was in love with her? But I did love her like no other.
Obviously we grew apart bc you can only be the Second to someone for so long until you eventually realize that it isn't the best thing to be, just like Shauna did.
While on the Scouts group we would constantly go on camping trips bc that's what you do, and I can see a lot of resemblances between the dynamics of the Yellowjackets on the wilderness and the dynamics that developed between all of us during these trips.
Day one of the trip you're still the same as before, you adapt to the situation just like you would in "the real world", you go through chores, you try to make do with whatever you've brought, you act almost the same as you would at home. But by the third or fourth day you're not in the Real World anymore; you get used to the new routines, you let go of some habits bc they don't actually make a lot of sense in the place you are right now. And also, you're parent free, so you kind of start feeling like This Is Your Life Now. By the fifth day you're deep into this new scenario and you start to feel different, more free from conventions and like you can do whatever you want/need to "survive". The dynamics also change; eventually one person does rise up as The Leader bc we as humans usually look for someone to follow, especially in situations like this, where you're away from everything you know and you're forced to be more in charge of your own "survival", so I can understand to a deep level what happened to the Yellowjackets (minus the deaths/near death situations/extreme survival ofc) as a group and why they went so, and I quote, "fucking nuts".
I mean, we used to be crazy emotionally unstable by the end of these camping trips, and they were only 2 weeks long (at most), so I can only imagine what it would be like to, not only be on that kind of situation for as long as the YJ did, but also carring the whole lot of baggage and untreated trauma that being on a plane crash and seeing so many of your friends die tragic horrible deaths, can bring. But I can see myself succumbing to those same dynamics the girls did, bc when you're away from everything you know and are used to, with a bunch of people that are mostly kids/teenagers (although we did have adults taking care of us and stuff, they were also like pretty young adults. At the time I saw them as The Adults In Charge, but as a currently 26 y/o myself I can say they probably had no fucking clue what to do with 10 to 15 teenagers and how to meet their emotional needs at all) you tend to go a little wild. You leave behind some inhibitions, you start seeing these people you share every single second of your day with as the only people in the world bc, at the time, they are. And you get fed up over small things like someone not pitching in as much as the rest or not taking The Group's needs into consideration (ex: the piss bucket thing), and they pile up until this teeny tiny thing that, in The Real World wouldn't even bother you, becomes The Worst Thing anyone could do. I remember getting pissed at someone for not washing their mug or leaving a piece of clothing on the makeshift table overnight.
What I'm trying to say here are two things:
1. The way the YJ acted, the things they did, the fights they had, etc. are not far fetched from reality AT ALL. They're all things can, do and WILL happen if you put a bunch of teenage girls in the woods for the right amount of time. I'm not justifying the horrible things they did ofc but, at least up until the Doomcomming shrooms fiasco, everything that they did and everything that happened, I can see teenage Scout me acting the same way; fuck, I can even see little me becoming The Butcher bc they were so angry at the world and so desperate to be their own person apart from The Second and wanting to feel useful to the rest of the group.
And 2. I'm pretty sure that if me and my then friends had ended up in a situation similar to the YJ, I would've also probably ended up consuming my best friend like Shauna did, bc I remember the feeling of wanting to have her all to myself, to be one with her, to HAVE her, to BE her, to become ONE. I can remember the jealousy I felt whenever I saw her bonding with someone that wasn't me, which I then associated to wanting to be popular like her but now I realize that I didn't want to be her on those moments, I wanted to be everyone else and experience her like they did in every way, shape and form possible, I wanted to be the only one that could understand her. And I think that was inevitably what threw us apart all these years ago, bc as I said, you can only be the Second to someone for so long until you eventually realize that it isn't the best thing to be
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a-man-in-the-crowd · 12 hours ago
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hihi i love everything about this post BUT i heard you mention the original william wilson being a cardsharper and came running to yap forgive me LMAO
i have like a huge card hyperfixation and when i read william wilson the main thing that rlly stuck with me is the card scene and since then i've been trying to think how that might relate to nevermore. after all, strategy games are a huge motif in this comic.
a theory i've seen going around is that will is supposed to be wilson, the dopplegänger, and montresor takes the place of the narrator. there's a lot to talk about there, but something i wanted to mention was that while will is never shown to play cards, monty is.
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and, forgive me for perhaps reading a bit too much into this, but based on his 'ace in the hole' comment, it'd seem he's specifically referencing stud poker but like idk maybe he's just using whatever poker-related phrase to get his point across, it doesn't rlly matter i'm just yapping
in william wilson, wilson exposes william as a cheater at an underground casino (? idk some underground betting place). if the theory that will is wilson and monty is william then, well, i can only wonder how monty's been cheating. just a thought idk
back to the ace in the hole thing, i'm taking this to mean monty sees people as cards, things to use when need. if ada's his ace, what does that make will?
i think will is monty's wild card. wild cards are basically any card that by that game's rules can act as any other card (e.g: to make a straight/flush or five of a kind) yk. like will. who's always turning into who he needs to be to assist monty.
another way to look at it is that will is already playing cards without making it obvious.
basically every card game has the concept of keeping your cards to yourself, or at least not giving them all away. like in this scene that keeps me up at night!
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whether from monty's instruction or by his own accord, will very deliberately chooses to reveal an ability that even he would think is useless. after all, who needs more of him? we know he has serious self-esteem issues, there's no way he thinks his duplication ability is useful. he can afford to reveal this ability, or card, because no one cares and if anything it'll make people deem him less of a threat. no need to pay attention to him!
he also has crazy good memory, too. he perfectly mimicks duke's appearance, save for the colour of his bowtie that no one would have noticed were it not for eulalie already being suspicious due to her rods (i don't doubt eula would have noticed anything amiss even without her rods, but it definitely helped that she had them), and the same for lenore. mind you, he's barely seen either of these people and of the two times he's met duke one of them was out of his uniform.
this trait of his probably wasn't written with cards in mind and rather for plot convenience (which is fine, of course) but if i REALLY wanted to fit this in to my card game nonsense, it's worth noting that memory is very important in a lot of card games. you gotta keep track of which cards have been played or given out, the number of cards in each player's hands, etc etc. all those little details. much like how will is very accurate in keeping track of the details people's appearances.
and one last thing. yk how the main colours in playing cards are black and red? i'm just saying!
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anyways yes you get it!! the fact will uses ribbons as his weapon?? he entangles other people?? i'm thinking maybe it reflects how in life he always wanted people to be dragged into his shit and not the other way around, or how whatever stuff he got pulled into eventually hurt the people around him but like honestly no clue
Fellow William analyst, greetings! I hope you are well, I hope you don't mind a question/ask.
I am curious about your thoughts on the lack of reaction we see of Will at the "one life" reveal at the dinner scene, if you haven't already shared your thoughts before! We know Annabel wasn't shocked, but what about Will?
It took me longer to answer than I thought, sorry
I'm not sure I can say anything new, but yes, it's pretty damn suspicious. The composition of the frame stylized as broken glass, makes it easy to draw Will with everyone, and a frame later we see him with other panicking students, so RnF didn't show his reaction quite intentionally.
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But I also want to talk about his behavior further. In the next episode, Will doesn't behave the way you expect him to. Given his weak-willed personality, it seems like he should be scared and overwhelmed by the prospect of a survival game (like Morella for example) but he's confused at best, and moreover, confused by everyone else's reactions. He even tries to justify the deans, basically gaslighting the rest of the students.
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Will is not afraid, but he does not understand why others are. I have only two possible explanations: either he knew, or he just doesn't care, just like Annabel. Or maybe both.
Maybe he has played these games before. Maybe he doesn't plan to fight for a second life (at least not in Nevermore, again just like Annabel). Maybe because he is somehow connected with the academic staff with all his doll aesthetic, there is no second life for him in general, he just works there. There are many options, but here I would prefer to focus on his parallels with Annabel - two characters whose reactions we don't see in this frame.
This is actually not the only scene where they are absent, contrary to common sense. In episode 6 we see the merit board for the first time. Most of the names on it are blurred, but some can be distinguished. Among them are Lenore, Annabel, Duke, Morella, Ada, Prospero and Will. All of them, except Annabel and Will, are present in the room at this moment.
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I wouldn't have paid much attention to this scene if it weren't for Prospero. Why is he there? He doesn't speak a single line, and we haven't been introduced to him as a character yet. His presence here is useless. So maybe the idea really was for all the characters whose names were visible on the board to be in the scene(or at least have already been introduced, like Annabel).
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So what about Will? My main problem with shapeshifter characters is that they can be anyone, anywhere, at any point in the story. Especially if they can also create their own copies. He could have already been introduced and we just didn't notice.
Now let's talk about the games these kids love to play so much. We know that Annabel is a talented chess player, and Montresor constantly uses card game slang. But did you know that it was William Wilson from Poe's original story who was a cardsharper? I just think it's such an interesting detail. Nevermore`s Will has never been seen like this, but considering how much of a board game aesthetic this webtoon has, I think it's important to note this.
And finally, there is a similarity that also makes them very different: both Annabel and Will have ribbons as an essential symbol, but it has a completely opposite meaning for each of them. For Annabel, the ribbons are a symbol of madness, fear, and perhaps her golden cage. It appears in her hallucinations after Lenore's fake death, as well as when Ada shows her her main fear.
Will, on the other hand? The ribbons are his weapon. He uses them to tangle other people. Curious, although his spectre is obviously a marionette, he doesn't have a control bar for strings, he controls the strings himself (not always successful but still).
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No matter how weak-willed Will is, he's the only one in Annabel's group who isn't influenced by her. She blackmails Montresor, Prospero respects her as a leader and friend, Ada admires and envies her. But she doesn't have anything on Will. In the chess allegory, he will obviously be a pawn (and I`ll write a whole post about it, I swear), but not Annabel's pawn. I have an idea that sooner or later, Montresor will think of using Will to find dirt on Annabel in revenge. After all, given their spectre abilities, it's easier for them to find out lenabel's secret.
So, let's summarize what we found. Absolutely nothing. This post turned out to be longer than I had planned, because I was a little carried away, but I hope you found something interesting for yourself in this stream of thoughts.
Here, take funny little Will everyone. He deserves to be noticed.
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rosicheeks · 11 months ago
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i have been following you for a couple of years now, mostly silently. you are so beautiful, inside and out! the few times i have seen your face uncensored have made me swooon! the even fewer times i have heard you sing, my heart overfilled with such joy!
your honesty about your struggles and how you keep going are simply inspiring. thank you for sharing.
i am manifesting love and joy for you! 💕
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narwhalandchill · 1 year ago
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oh my fucking god i feel. SO stupid rn at How i didnt make the (super sane very normal just absolutely. Yes. Surely) connection earlier but uhh
so anyway im now like 89% certain that whatever the "traces" of the narwhal that remain on ajax and facilitate their (ever-growing) innate connection are like. an actually fundamental aspect of it (them?) more or less.
why? because if you consider its pov just for a moment. the narwhal was literally about to depart teyvat for good. it had nearly finished consuming the primordial sea and preparing to breach surface to finish the job by eating the french for the leftovers their human bodies were made from. its an interstellar voyager it does not linger on planets it devours. it goes glug glug and it leaves.
and like if it wasnt for traveler intervening its confirmed through narzissenkreuz and renes world formula that teyvat wouldve just been destroyed. no one could have stopped the narwhal not neuvillette not focalors not anyone.
so what was the one other thing it did right before going for that french brunch? calling for ajax. getting them reunited in the primordial sea. like all the possible implications aside bc theres many different ways to speculate on the exact reasons why and the nature of that link. the point remains.
it wasnt leaving teyvat without finding him.
like the narwhal is about to fucking Dip from this cringe planet and whatever part of it that ajax carries within himself his narwhal Absolutely wanted to be reunited with. what the fuck am i supposed to read from that. hoyo???????!??! answers?!?!?!
and its not only the calling from the narwhal side itself either bc this is ALL coinciding with the growth of a 'restless power' within ajax and his vision malfunctioning (the things celestia is literally confirmed to harvest energy thru to repair its damaged authority) and his connection with the narwhal reaching an actual conscious level (arguably subconscious n emotional too bc i find it Curious his mood is poor right as the narwhal is repeatedly described as positively malding to the point its boss fight mechanic is literally a rage meter). ajax' power is growing. his destiny is starting to shift and something is drawing him to fontaine... right as the narwhal is getting close to finished with the primordial sea. funny how it overlaps eh. how it aligns 🤨🤨 why are they orbiting each other like this (they should kiss)
(& not to even Mention how ajax just Happened to get that absolutely exponential and borderline unbelievable feat of power spike in extending his foul legacy endurance as massively as he did. while. within the primordial sea. with his narwhal. who had at that point all but incorporated the power of that sea into itself. i s2g if childe was getting passive home turf co-op bonus exp with a 4x multiplier automatically the whole 40+ days 💀💀)
#man the way its lovely reunion but tjen ajax fucking ATTACKS IT ON SIGHT you couldve gotten married!!!!11!1 fucking unbearable i am in agony#anyway contrary to popular belief we still have no fucking clue whether ajax' link to the narwhal was innate#skirk saying the traces remain on him after meeting it isnt saying tht much. the parts he shares w it couldve well been innate but dormant#instead. also just the fact that he woke it up already shady#then like. monoceros caeli being his from the beginning is completely plausible despite ppl acting like its been confirmed his const change#and like them being halves of the same entity on some lvl would make the narwhal being so weak without him n until ajax found it again#make very much. sense. anyway ajax toxicity jokes aside if the narwhal was just trying to eat him point blank without even a hello#i do get why hed react aggressively. but also bros been telling everyone n their mom hes fighting his narwhal the seconf he finds it again😔#so i feel somewhat confident in assuming he started that 40+ days brawl#anyway if ajax Isnt the celestial narwhal on some level or possibly becoming it as their link grows.#riddle me this atheists. why is his 3rd phase boss theme. the song about His individual murderous rage at us#bc he thought he was outplayed by us. His personal wrath#whys the song for that called the wrath of the celestial narwhal. of the star swallowing whale. Hmmmge. his individual rage.#why does tusk of monoceros caeli speak of him embracing the narwhals innate qualities as embracing mere parts of Himself#funny how tjat goes!! (the OST n boss drop is not 100% serious theory but it does drive me insane. bc why would they phrase it like that)#anyway either theyre 2 halves same original entity or theyre soulmates idgaf . they should fold teyvat in half and eat it for brunch#aaand im going to be consumed by this realization for the next month wish me luck#WHY DID IT NEED HIM THERE SO BADLY???? HUH??????#i mean relatable dont we all. but its sooooooooo inch resting. Curious indeed#rambles#genshin#childe#childeposting#narwhalposting
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pleasedontcareaboutme · 4 months ago
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i think i finally realized why ive been feeling so damn depressed lately again
sorry for writing this here. im really hurting actually. im not good. i feel a bit helpless too. idk who to talk to bc i dont want to burden anyons and i donf feel like anything could console me right now
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Like. fuck me man. thanks for saving me but. why the hell are you not here. i dont want to do this without you. i hate only being able to remember you. i was supposed to grow old with you, not without you.
And. honestly. even with all this bullshit i say here, all the endless times i spend trying to write down my feelings, abt you, about all the pain ive felt my life, it doesnt get better. not at all. and no words, no poetry takes it away and i truly feel like nobody will ever truly understand how suffocated i felt all my life.
and i want to change thanks to you but. i dont know. nothing's satisfying enough.
no matter what, i truly only feel great when im in that daydream like world you created.
and these past days ive been thinking a lot that. i really wouldnt mind dying right now. not at all. because at least i know what happiness feels like. and i want to stay in that state. probably, even in this life your music will bring me happiness, but i want to be trapped in it.
im tired of being so unseen, and even when im seen, im hurting. but i dont know whats hurting. i think im just really tired thats all.
and. ye. i feel brave tbh. i still havent posted my video to instagram, bc im not brave for that. i dont know. and i feel like a hypocrite bc everything is true that i wrote there but at the same time these are my thoughts currently
in a long while i looked up suicide methods again. i feel so hopeful, but im not really sure if really for the future. jm sorry this is probably alarming. i will probably not kill myself but. idk. im not sure actually. i dknt know what to say. i wasnt cut out for this wordly shit.i feel unlovable but even if im loved, i donf want to be. i dont want anything. just let me stsy in this quiet place snd just. disappear. i wouldnt want my family to hurt if i die but i wont know about it anyways. idk man. i feel strongly i could die calmly this time and thats nice. bc 6 years ago i was terrified, and hurt. but now im content and kind of ready idk man. its not a terrible feeling, its a "this is it, it was nice while it lasted" ig.
there are no clouds in my head actually. i truly dont feel like im thinking irrationally, i feel like this would just be like. the end goal i was looking for. to feel true love once. it was nice.
no goodbye yet bc idk how id kms even if i do. But ill tell u guys if i found something.
#you know it's funny#i still feel this way but the moment i wrote this#on tiktok one of my friends that was there for most of my times followed my secret tiktok account and#the friend that i lost last year checked my account and#i hope she fucking knows how much that means to me#because i always felt like she hstes me but i still deeply feel she cares abf me and silently looks out for me and i feel so sorry#bc in the past 4 days she has checked my account multiple times and idk man#i truly feel like she sees that im struggling i appreciate it a lot#but i could never tell her that because what if im wrong and also#i dont fit in that friendship anymore#but im still really greatful#for checking up on me even like this#*most of my life#noticed a typo#idk anyways i just really needed to scream this into the void. I didn't want to be so sad today. i just scrolled instagram to numb myself#all day. but i got off my phone it was terrible. idk. i feel im not sure i can get my shit together by monday#im sick of having to fall apart and build myself up every fucking day man. and each day i literally wake up telling myself affirmations#trying to convince myself that its oka#it will be okay at least when u are home at night. wait for that moment everyday but. im tired of waiting for night to be happy man.#i have 30 mins to either post that fuckin video and make a fool of myself bc i told myself i need to post it on the 19th. but idk man. Im#terrified it will only disappoint me. people will make fun of me. idk man. its not that funny is it. or is it? how pathetic i am for clingi#g to the only hope in my life like a fucking abandoned dog man. but what can i do. i dont want to depend on you so much. but then who shoul#i depend on? if i depend on myself im just gonna kill myself man.idk. my grief is getting worse day by day. i still practice guitar everyda#hoping that maybe you will come back or something will come back. maybe mywill to live will come back? maybe the Instrument will play a not#that I can depend on? i dont really know what im looking for thats the worst. living is uncomfortable and dark. even when im smiling with m#friends i feel lost.there's something i feel like they know and i dont. when they could name their favorite colors in kindergarten i alread#knew something was different abt me.its really isolating.not having a clue of who am i.i keep saying im finding myself more and more but tb#i still in a way like im always wearing a costume. i wonder how naked id have to be to find myself. sorry for word vomitting.it maybe helps#anyways acchan i miss you.this world feels really stale without you.i wish I could truly show how much I love you with my words or life but#i dont really think it makes a difference.my voice really doesnt matter that much in the end.maybe im too much
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mantisgodsdomain · 1 year ago
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Apparently there's a fic reading challenge thing this year, but after doing a quick skim of the goals... we don't think we'll be touching it with a ten-foot stick. Some of these goals put a VERY bad taste in our mouth. The idea of a "diversity checklist" isn't supposed to be... literal, we don't think? No? We're remembering that one quote about "listening to people of color being like eating your vegetables for white activists" and we're feeling like it may actually have been understating whatever the hell is going on here.
#we speak#also really funny to be seeing shit like “read fic from a fandom with under 250 works”. buddy we're WRITING for one of those#but also like. “read a fic where the main character is BIPOC”. “read a fic where the main character is neurodivergent"#“read a fic that passes the bechdel test”.#like we get the INTENT we guess but we're not in the target audience AT ALL#and a whole fuckin lot of the goals here are very romance focused up against us a guy who deliberately filters out ships#we're also really concerned that “passes the bechdel test” is a bar for fic but also we know The Scene here#and “passing the mako mori test”. is indeed a difficult one to find in a lot of fandoms#as someone who tends to like female characters we notice this. A Fucking Lot#we are so insanely picky with fic bc even with ao3's tagging system we need to slog through dozens of fics to find one good one#and a lot of the time we. REALLY don't have the patience for fic that doesn't have decent depictions for the gals#you have no clue how much zel da fic especially we drop for being Really Fucking Weird About Gender (in a bad way)#sometimes we forget that people exist in bigger fandoms that actually have fic reading habits like this#we feel like we're in another dimension. what do you mean you guys live like this#also what. does “deals heavily (and healthily) with a mental illness” mean. you guys arent just reading this to eat ur vegetables right?#...right???#anyways reading through things like “read fics with all the major LGBTQIA2 identities” is giving us hives#if you read our fic then we beg of you read it because it sounds like it has a nice plot not just like. because Some Guy is ace or intersex#please. gender identity should NOT be that much of a priority. read through and flag on the weird gender shit and go “oh thats queer!”#or “oh thats like me” or “oh (whatever)” but please. there are so many things here more relevant than shit like sexuality.#we need to go read through our fics and make sure we dont have any overly modern lingo in there#if you want to know about a characters sexuality or gender identity figure it out yourself from. fuck we dont know. psychic beams.#though we rationally know the reason that things in modern queer spaces are so often Like This its still poison to our brain#and we want nothing to do with it#negative chatter
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riftrive · 2 years ago
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Okay wait I think I figured out my idea for Renzos modern/crime au (also called my GTA au cause yeah generally inspired by stuff like that).
Anyways, Renzo helps sponsor / run these like death game that is streamed to various rich messed up people that wanna see people fight like animals for a chance for cash. One is like this game where you pit people in a dark warehouse, give one a shotgun and flashlight and call them the killer while the others are 'survivors'. Very much a game made off the slasher movie genre. Another is like a death race, or a pit where you try to destroy each others vehicles. You get the gist- various real life death games usually inspired by movies or plot devices. It makes a pretty penny
Blacklight used to be very common on these death shows before joining The Final Reckoning gang, cause an immortal killer was a goldmine of content for Renzo. Of course the audience didn't believe him immortal, just really good at escaping death or Renzo was really good at finding replacements that fit the bill. Then he joined the Final Reckoning, and things got even better. A group of unkillable creatures that he could request to hunt each other down and they were chill with it cause no consequences for them? Jackpot
Renzo will also occasionally take part in his own shows, and sometimes quite out of nowhere to spice things up. Otherwise he'll announce or show off havoc he plans to add to the games during them to keep things interesting
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