#shoot its 1:00

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha makes a new furry little friend and becomes captivated by its owner along the way.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 4270

Natasha shoots upright in her bed, her heart racing and cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her hand instinctively reaches for the knife tucked nearby, gripping it tight as she scans the room, her pulse thundering in her ears.

She’s met with silence. The darkened space of her room at the Compound was empty of any threat. No footsteps, no shadows lurking—just her.

Exhaling shakily, Natasha lowers the blade, pressing her free hand against her eyes, as though she could push away the remnants of the nightmare from her mind.

The memories linger, though. They always do.

A quick glance at the clock tells her it’s 4:00 A.M. Too early for anyone else to be awake. 

But for Natasha, this was normal.

Sighing, she swings her legs out of bed, trying not to dwell on how long it had taken to fall asleep in the first place. 

Three hours of sleep was better than nothing. 

She dresses quickly, pulling on her jogging clothes in automatic, well-practiced movements, intent on escaping the restlessness that always comes with her dreams.

The sky was still dark when she went outside, the first hints of light barely on the horizon, but Natasha set off anyway, her pace swift and determined.

With every stride, the tension in her body begins to ease, her breathing falling into a steady rhythm that mirrored the pounding of her feet against the pavement.

This was her moment of relief—where she could forget, even if just for a while—pushing her body harder, faster, hoping to leave behind the lingering shadows of her past.

After a few miles, Natasha slows to a stop beside a tree, her breath coming in even pants as she stretches out her arms.

The world was still quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves.

Then, faintly, she hears something.

A soft, distressed sound.

She freezes, tilting her head to listen. 

There it is again—a tiny cry coming from somewhere nearby.

From above? 

Her gaze lifts upward, and there, high up in the tree, a little black cat clings precariously to a branch, its claws struggling to maintain a grip on the rough bark. 

Natasha blinks in surprise, but before she can react to the sight, the cat lets out a desperate yowl and slips.  

Moving on instinct, Natasha surges forward and catches the cat just before it hits the ground. She cradles the small creature against her chest securely.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs, her fingers gently checking for any injuries. Its fur is soft and clean—not a stray, then. 

Her suspicion is confirmed when she notices the sleek collar around its neck, the gold tag gleaming faintly in the early light.

Natasha tilts the tag to read the name engraved on it.

“Widow?” 

An amused smirk tugs at her lips at the irony.

At the sound of its name, the cat looks up at her with wide, inquisitive yellow eyes and lets out a tiny, plaintive meow.

Natasha couldn’t help but chuckle softly, sinking down to sit against the tree with the cat still nestled in her arms. 

“What were you doing up there?” she asks, her voice a soft murmur as she scratches behind its ears.

The cat responds with a long, dramatic meow as if offering some elaborate excuse for its predicament.

Natasha smiles softly in amusement before glancing at the tag again, searching for any contact information but finding none.

“Well, you obviously belong to someone,” Natasha muses, lifting the cat to meet its gaze. “They must really trust you to make it back on your own, huh?” 

In response, the cat swats playfully at Natasha’s face, its soft paws barely grazing her skin.

Natasha shakes her head with a smile and tries to set the cat down to let it go on its way, but to her surprise, the cat clings to her, its claws digging into the front of her shirt.

“Hey, easy now,” Natasha grumbles, gently trying to pry the cat off, but it stubbornly clings to her, refusing to let go.

“Really? This is the thanks I get for saving you?” she deadpans, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature. 

The cat chirps, blinking up at her innocently before nuzzling against her chin. 

“Alright, I surrender,” Natasha sighs, settling back against the tree in resignation, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the cat’s fur.  

The warmth of the tiny creature in Natasha’s arms is unexpectedly comforting. Before she realizes it, her eyelids grow heavy, and exhaustion finally pulls her under.

It’s not until a soft movement against her arms stirs her that Natasha blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. As her vision clears, the first thing she sees is your face, watching her from a nearby bench, chin resting casually on your hand.

“You have my cat,” you say, your tone flat but not unkind.

Natasha blinks again, still shaking off the grogginess from the unexpected nap. She glances down to find Widow still nestled in her arms, staring up at her with wide, expectant eyes.

As she processes your words, Natasha loosens her hold and sits up straighter.

Widow hops onto her lap, stretching languidly and letting out a tiny yawn, completely at ease.

“Your cat was stuck in a tree,” Natasha explains, her voice still rough with sleep. “I caught her when she fell.”

You raise an eyebrow, your gaze flicking to the lazily stretching cat. 

“You do know they land on their feet, right?” 

Natasha opens her mouth to argue but pauses, catching the subtle teasing in your tone. She leans back with a small smirk, deciding to tease you back.

“Widow is kind of a strange name for a cat.”

At her remark, you scoff and cross your arms, leaning back on the bench with a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Wow, so you’re a thief and you’re judgy. Maybe next time I won’t be so nice and let you finish your nap.”

“I didn’t steal your cat,” Natasha retorts, unable to suppress the slight curve of her lips, trying and failing to hide her amusement. “She wouldn’t let go of me. Also, you watched me sleep. Isn’t that a little weird?” 

You shrug with casual ease and respond with a softened tone. 

“You looked like you needed it.”

Your bluntness catches Natasha off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She blinks, surprised not only by your remark but by the realization that she hadn’t woken up immediately when you arrived. 

The fact that she was able to rest so peacefully with a practical stranger nearby is something she never would’ve thought possible—but here she is.

As the sun rises higher for the start of the day, its gentle light softens the tension between you. It casts a warm glow over everything, including you, and Natasha finds herself at a loss for words at the sight.

After a moment, you stand, calling Widow to your side. 

The cat stretches one last time before hopping down from Natasha’s lap and trotting over to you with a playful spring in its step.

As you turn to leave, you glance back at Natasha, a faint smile playing on your lips.

“Maybe find a better spot for naps next time,” you say, giving her a backward wave. “Take care, Miss Black Widow.”

Natasha watches you walk away, something unfamiliar stirring in her chest. She exhales, running a hand through her hair as she tries to shake off the lingering sensation.

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly. “You too.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A few days later, Natasha returns to her room after another one of her early morning runs, her body drenched in exhaustion from both physical exertion and the sleepless nights filled with nightmares. 

She lets out a tired sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to shake off the haunting memories of the recent dream when a soft scratching sound from her window catches her attention.

Her eyes widen in surprise as she spots the source of the noise. Hurrying over, she opens the window and carefully scoops the black cat perched on the sill into her arms.  

“How did you get all the way up here?” Natasha asks curiously.

Widow meows softly in response, twisting in her arms to bat playfully at a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

Natasha huffs in amusement, leaning her head back to keep the hair out of reach.

Her gaze drops to the collar around Widow’s neck, reminding her of the lack of contact information to reach you. 

A small smile tugs at her lips as she recalls the memory of you accusing her of being a thief. Now, somehow, your cat has found its way to her again, staring up at her with those innocent, wide eyes.

Natasha taps the top of Widow’s nose lightly in mock scolding.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble with your owner again,” she mutters, half-playful, half-exasperated.

Unbothered by Natasha's words, Widow glances around the room with mild curiosity before letting out a pitiful meow, pawing at Natasha with an urgent expression.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, confused. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

Her meows grow more insistent, her tiny voice taking on a more desperate tone.

“What do you want? Food?” she asks.

The cat immediately quiets at her suggestion, eyes shining with eager anticipation. Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“All right, let’s see if we can find you something to eat.”

An hour later, Natasha finds herself in the Compound’s kitchen, waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing as she reflects on the bizarre morning.

Just as the aroma of fresh coffee begins to fill the room, the elevator doors slide open, and Tony Stark comes strolling in, waving his phone at her.

“Someone explain why the emergency communication system I created is sending messages for cat food.”

Before Natasha can respond, Peter Parker swings in through an open window, landing at the kitchen counter with a large bag of cat food under his arm. He pulls off his Spider-Man mask, flashing a wide grin.

“No worries, Mr. Stark! I saw the message and picked some up on my way,” Peter declares proudly, placing the bag triumphantly on the counter.

“Thanks, Peter,” Natasha says, taking the bag and raising an eyebrow at Tony. “At least someone’s reliable around here.” 

“Anytime, Miss Romanoff,” Peter replies, rubbing the back of his neck shyly as he moves toward the sitting area. 

Meanwhile, Tony scoffs at her teasing jab, muttering her words mockingly under his breath as he turns to leave. But he freezes mid-stride, pointing toward the couch.

“Uh, what is that?” 

Natasha follows his gaze and sees he’s referring to where Wanda is sitting on the sofa, using her powers to create a small red ball of energy for Widow, who is happily pouncing at it.

“Her name is Widow,” Natasha explains as she pours the cat food into a bowl.

“You named a cat after yourself?” Tony snorts, shaking his head. “And people say I’m the narcissist.”

“She’s not mine,” Natasha replies, rolling her eyes as she walks past him toward the sitting area.

“So, you stole it,” Tony deadpans.

“Why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?” Natasha huffs, exasperated, as she sets the bowl on the floor.

At the sight, Widow scampers over, letting out a happy meow before digging into the food.

Natasha smiles softly, scratching the cat’s head as it eats, though her thoughts inevitably drift to you, wondering how she will return your cat to you.

Wanda, who’s been watching the scene with an amused grin, chimes in, “Natasha has a crush on the owner. She keeps thinking about her.”

“Oh, this just got interesting,” Tony says, leaning on the back of a chair with an intrigued smirk. “When did that happen?”

Natasha glares at Wanda before answering, “I met her on one of my runs. We talked. That’s it. Also, what have we said about reading people’s minds?”

Wanda raises her hands in mock surrender.

“I’m not, I swear. Your thoughts are just…really loud, and most are about her.”

Tony chuckles at the revelation, thoroughly entertained. He raises an eyebrow at Natasha, grinning.

“Nat, there are better ways to get someone’s attention than stealing their pet. I could give you some tips if you want.”

Natasha huffs, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need your help, Stark.”

Tony, unbothered by her dismissal, smirks.

“Then why haven’t you contacted her about the cat?”

“I don’t have her contact info,” Natasha admits reluctantly. “I didn’t get her number.”

Peter, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly perks up.

“I have an idea!”

He pulls out his phone from his backpack, snaps a picture of Widow, and begins typing. A moment later, he shows the screen to Natasha. 

The post reads: “Cat found at Avengers Compound,” with Widow’s picture attached. 

“What’s this?” Tony asks, peering over Peter’s shoulder.

“It’s the ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ app,” Peter explains animatedly. “You told me to focus on local stuff as Spider-Man, so I made this app where people can report crimes or activities happening in New York. This way, Miss Romanoff’s crush will see the post and know where to find her cat.” 

At his last casual remark, Tony bursts into laughter while Wanda hides her smile behind her hand.

“All right, that’s enough,” Natasha says, scooping up Widow and grabbing the food bowl. “Come on, Widow. Let’s get you some peace and quiet.”

With that, she leaves the room, escaping the playful teasing of the others.

Later that afternoon, Natasha returns to the common room and finds Peter frantically overturning the sofas.

“What are you looking for?” she asks, arms crossed.

Startled, Peter jumps, dropping the sofa back to the ground with a loud thud.

“Please don’t tell Mr. Stark,” he pleads.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “What did you lose?”

Peter hesitates, then slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“Mr. Stark gave me a USB with the new suit design, and I was going to show him my modifications, but now I can't find it anywhere.” 

He starts pacing, clearly panicking, as he continues.

“I thought I put it in my backpack, but it’s gone. If I lost it in the city, Mr. Stark will never let me help with modifications again!”

Natasha steps forward, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, calm down. Tony will understand,” she says, nodding toward the window. “Why don’t you go check your place again? I’ll keep an eye out here.” 

Peter takes a deep breath and nods.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Miss Romanoff,” he says before pulling his mask back on and swinging out the window.

Natasha shakes her head with a small smile and resumes her original task—finding Widow, who had somehow slipped out of her room without Natasha noticing.

The little cat was proving to be surprisingly clever and stealthy. It seems you obviously trained her well.

After searching around for a bit, Natasha is about to check with Wanda when a pair of yellow eyes appear from the shadows on one of the black sofas.

Widow stares up at her, completely unbothered.

Chuckling in realization, Natasha sits beside the cat, gently scratching her head.

“You’re pretty good at hiding. I didn’t even realize you were there.”

Widow responds with a bored yawn, stretches her body, and then hops onto Natasha’s lap, curling up contentedly. As her eyes begin to flutter closed, Natasha frowns in realization.

“No, no, you can’t fall asleep on me. I’ve got things to do.”

Widow ignores her, already deep in sleep. When Natasha hears the soft sound of the cat’s snoring, she throws her head back against the sofa in disbelief.

Sighing, Natasha spots a tablet on the nearby table. She carefully reaches for it without disturbing Widow and begins doing some work.

After a moment, the rhythmic purring from the cat brings an unexpected feeling of calm and comfort to her, and before she knows it, Natasha’s eyes start to grow heavy, and she drifts off without realizing it.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep when she wakes up, blinking groggily. As her eyes adjust, she notices a familiar face beside her—you.

For a brief moment, Natasha wonders if she’s still dreaming. Though, she doesn’t usually have dreams this pleasant. 

But then your eyes lift from your phone at her movement, and you raise an eyebrow, amused.

“For a hero, you sure take more naps than I expected.” 

Natasha blinks away the remnants of sleep, sitting up straighter, and tilts her head at you curiously.

“How did you get in here?”

You gesture casually toward the elevator. 

“I came by after seeing the post, and your teammate—Wanda, I believe—she said she recognized me, so she directed me here.”

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, you lean your head on your hand as your eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I thought I told you to find a better napping spot. This one’s just going to give you neck cramps.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a small smile as she gestures to Widow, still sound asleep on her lap. 

“Wasn’t exactly my choice.”

Your gaze drifts down to the cat, and you sigh knowingly.

“Widow, stop pretending and get off her.”

Natasha frowns in confusion at your words and snaps her gaze to the seemingly asleep creature on her lap.

For a second, the cat doesn’t move, but when you call her name again, a little more sternly, the cat’s eyes snap open.

Widow lets out an indignant meow before hopping off Natasha’s lap and licking her paws casually as if nothing happened.

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief.

“What a little liar.”

Groaning softly, she stretches out her stiff muscles and catches you watching her, your gaze lingering for a second too long.

When you realize she’s noticed, your eyes flicker back to your phone.

Natasha smirks, about to tease you, but then you show her the screen of your phone—the post Peter made about Widow.

“I need you to take this down,” you say, your tone serious.

Natasha furrows her brow but nods.

“Sure, I can do that. But why? It looks like she’s a hit with everyone.”

Your smile turns faint as you stand, the lightness in your expression turning somber.  

“Not all attention is good attention,” you say cryptically. 

Before Natasha can ask what you mean, you grab a pen from the table and reach for her hand. She watches in surprise as you scribble something on her palm. Your touch lingers for a moment, making her feel unexpectedly flustered.

“Here,” you said, finishing. “If Widow finds her way to you again, you’ll know how to reach me. Though, hopefully, you won’t need it too often.” 

Natasha glances at the number on her palm, then back at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Am I only allowed to use this for cat-related emergencies?” 

 You smirk, though there’s a hint of something more serious in your eyes.

“I’m not sure I’m someone you’d want to get involved with.�� 

Natasha holds your gaze, intrigued.

But the tension is broken when Widow hops back onto the sofa, drawing both of your attention. The cat tries to burrow into the cushions, as if searching for something or determined to get comfortable again. 

You sigh, picking her up despite her annoyed yowl. Before leaving, you glance back at Natasha, tilting your head thoughtfully.

“Though… I guess a hello from the Black Widow every now and then wouldn’t be too bad.”

With that, you head to the elevator, disappearing behind its doors.

Natasha looks down at the number on her palm, a small smile playing on her lips. She finds herself hoping that Widow might "accidentally" find her way back to the Compound again soon—if only for another chance to see you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha didn’t have to wait long for another chance to see you, after all.

Just a few hours after your departure, late at night when the Compound was quiet, Natasha—still unable to sleep—wandered into the common room.

To her surprise, there you were, dressed in dark, stealthy clothes, frozen the moment you noticed her. 

Her instincts kick in immediately, and within seconds, Natasha has her weapon drawn, pointing it directly at you.

Yet, you show no sign of panic. Instead, you raise your hands slowly and tilt your head at her with a calm, almost amused expression. 

“You really shouldn’t be up this late, you know,” you say lightly, as if this was a casual conversation. “Messes with your sleep schedule.” 

Natasha ignores the teasing, her gaze unwavering and her senses on high alert. She didn’t feel any malice from you, but the situation is far too strange to let her guard down. 

“How did you get in undetected?” she asks, her voice low, tinged with suspicion.

With deliberate slowness, you gesture with one hand toward the open window behind you. 

“That was left unlocked. Pretty reckless for the Avengers.”

Natasha’s frown deepens as she glances at the window, already making a mental note to have Peter redo security training. 

“And the alarms?” Natasha asks, her weapon still trained on you.

You shrug casually.

“Let’s just say we have a lot of experience when it comes to not being seen.”

Natasha's eyes narrow at your words. "We?" 

You nod toward her feet, and Natasha briefly glances down.

Widow is there, casually walking through her legs and brushing her fur against Natasha with a soft purr, completely at ease.

When her gaze snaps back to you, you gesture toward her weapon. 

“Mind putting that away? I’m unarmed. You can check if you like.”

Natasha hesitates, her eyes studying you carefully, looking for any hint of deception.

But there is none.

Reluctantly, she holsters her weapon and steps closer, reaching out to pat you down.

You stand still, hands raised, letting her search you for any hidden weapons or gadgets.

“So, what are you?” Natasha asks, her tone sharp. “A spy?”

“Reformed thief, technically,” you reply with a casual shrug. “I don’t do this sort of thing much anymore.” 

You sigh lightly, casting a glance at Widow, who had settled by Natasha’s feet and is now nonchalantly licking her paw. 

“She, however, is still struggling to break her old habits.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, glancing at the cat.

“You’re telling me this cat’s a thief?”

You chuckle softly, catching the disbelief in her voice.

“I’m serious. Check my pocket—it’s the reason I’m here.”

Frowning, Natasha reaches into your jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against something small and metallic. She pulls out a USB drive, her eyes widening slightly in realization when she notices the small Spider-Man logo sticker on the side.

“I didn’t realize Widow had swiped it before we left earlier,” you explain, your tone sheepish. “I came back to return it before there’s any trouble.”

“Is that why you wanted the post deleted?” Natasha asks, her suspicion now tinged with curiosity. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” 

There is a brief pause as you meet her gaze. Your smile turns slightly rueful at the concern in her voice, and for a moment, something unspoken lingers between you.

“Let me worry about that,” you say softly, your tone more serious than before. Then you lift your hands slightly in surrender, a playful glint returning to your eyes. “So, are you going to arrest me, or am I free to go?” 

At that moment, Widow trots over, settling in front of Natasha and meowing softly as if to plead on your behalf. 

Natasha crosses her arms, her lips curling slightly in amusement at the sight, though the concern hasn’t left her eyes. 

“You two sure know how to double-team a person.”

You chuckle, realizing Natasha’s letting you go, and call your cat’s name. Widow immediately jumps into your arms, curling up comfortably. You look back up at Natasha, your expression softening.

“I told you—you wouldn’t want to get involved with someone like me.”

Natasha’s gaze softens in response.

“Your cat seems to think otherwise.”

You smile at that, gently shifting Widow in your arms.

“She’s got good instincts. A good judge of character, too. So, you must be really special if she’s interested in you.” 

For a moment, silence settles between you, broken only by Widow’s soft purring. The tension eases, but something still lingers beneath the surface—an unspoken understanding that there was more to your story, more to you, than you were letting on.

With a small smile, you take Widow’s paw and give Natasha a playful wave.

“You should head to bed soon, Miss Black Widow,” you tease softly, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want you napping in random spots again.”

As you move toward the window, Natasha steps closer, her voice lowering.

“You know, I don’t mind the visits from Widow. And the two of you don’t have to sneak in or anything. Just…come by whenever.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her offer.

“Are you sure about that?” 

Natasha holds your gaze steadily. “Yeah. I’m sure.” 

You study her for a moment, then smile—a genuine, appreciative smile that softens the usual teasing banter.

“I’ll think about it,” you say with a playful tone.

With a quick nod, you adjust Widow in your arms and slip through the window with practiced ease. Natasha watches you disappear into the night, her mind spinning with questions and curiosity.  

One thing’s certain: this won't be the last time she’d see you and your cat. And to her surprise, she finds herself looking forward to the next time.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

a/n: thank you for reading!

[delicateperspective]

The Observer : Phase Two

Now that we have entered a new phase of The Observer, I am moving this information to it's own post. But if you are just now joining in, please check out my original post that covers everything from March 9 - 28th (the dartboard saga). You can find it here. (Please note: most of this information was being uncovered in real time. Some dates skip around because connections were not formed until later or new information was uncovered. I'm doing the best I can to keep it together guys!) A HUGE THANK YOU TO @fookinhellcurlyyy and @tonix3!! Check out their write-ups on The Observer as well because they're often faster to respond than I am!

On March 29th, 2025:

At 1:00 PM, we get this tweet:

Bits and pieces of never and forever: A mosaic of moments that make a home. https://instagram.com/fromanobserver — The Observer

The profile picture stays the same — dart in the bullseye.

The Observer’s Twitter header updated. And while the image still centers on the same massive lavender-blue iris, the figure is missing.

The original header showed a tiny person on a ladder, peering through a telescope. Now? The new header shows only the eye. No ladder. No telescope. No figure.

The Observer remains the eye. But An Observer has stepped into a new space.

For the first time in this saga, we are pulled off Twitter and into a new space. The Instagram account is called @fromanobserver. The display name is “An Observer.” The bio is: “Through the looking glass an observer watches, craving what is just beyond reach.”

(This is the original bio from the Twitter account.)

There is one post only.

Let’s Talk About the Image

A large central circle, like the rim of a lens or an old mirror, a sun, or a planet. It’s empty. Or waiting. It’s surrounded by orbit-like rings.

A small dark circle sits on the outer edge of the ring — as if it’s in orbit around the center. A satellite?

A telescope rests in the bottom-left corner. No ladder. No figure. Just the instrument — aimed upward (in retrospect its telling us to examine the large circle which will change daily), but unused.

A dartboard sits in the bottom right. Fully detailed. But it doesn't quite look like the real-life dartboard of the previous saga. This has changed. It's got less rings. It's more stylized. More like - a compass.

This dartboard isn’t really a dart board— it mirrors the shape and

12 Stars and a crescent moon float in the background.

March 30th, 2025

2:00 PM — An Observer posts on Instagram

A close-up of a hand grasping red fabric. Caption: “Old tracks, new verses.”

The zoomed-in image is from a paparazzi photo of Louis Tomlinson and Zayn Malik, dated March 3, 2015, just days before Zayn left the band.

That photo was taken as 1D returned to London from tour — a moment of impending fracture.

The caption suggests not a repeat of the past, but a rewriting of it.

“Old tracks” = 1D, Zouis, the break.

“New verses” = reconciliation? A new narrative?

This post reignites Zouis speculation, especially considering Louis’ attendance at Zayn’s LA show on January 29, 2025 — their first public overlap in a decade.

2:20 PM — The Observer tweets:

“The silence healed what the noise once strained.” — The Observer

This appears to confirm the Zouis context — referencing the years of silence between the two. “The noise” could be 1D fame, the fandom, the press, or even internal band tension. Now, years later, there’s space to reconnect — and that seems to be what’s happening.

March 31st, 2025

1:00 PM — An Observer posts on Instagram

A black triangle on a blue knit background. Caption: “Macroscopic and Microscopic life.”

It doesn't happen for a few days but EVENTUALLY fans trace the triangle to The Observer’s Book of Pond Life by John Clegg — a field guide to organisms both visible and invisible.

Harry was photographed with this exact book (with this exact cover) in his 2022 Rolling Stone cover shoot.

That same article revealed Harry’s love for Love Island. Louis, historically, has said he hates the show — but once admitted he was “sucked into” watching a season. Louis is reportedly dating Zara, a former Love Island contestant. And Harry was spotted at a Sabrina Carpenter concert in March - with Zara's friends in the box beside him.

These are not isolated facts. They form a micro and macro ecosystem — much like a pond. Interconnected. Subtle. Coded. Alive.

1:20 PM — The Observer tweets:

“Something in the Blue — The Observer”

The triangle was printed on a blue knit — literally: “something in the blue.”

11:12 PM — The Observer tweets:

“But the Sun isn’t an anatomical entity, it’s an inanimate object. How can we possibly fight it, Sergeant-Major?” — An Observer

This is a quote from It Ain’t Half Hot Mum, spoken by a character played by John Clegg — same name as the Pond Life author.

But the timing is key: That morning, The Sun published a tabloid piece about Louis’ son and Briana — their first mention in the press in years. It reads like a planted PR piece, detailing their lifestyle, location, and routine.

The Observer quote feels like a message to the fandom:

You can’t fight the Sun. Don’t feed the noise.

APRIL 1ST, 2025

2:00 PM – An Observer posts on Instagram

A close-up image of a guitar neck, featuring a black capo and steel strings. Caption: “Same steel, new stories.”

The photo showed a black-necked guitar with circular fret markers. The wording appears to be a clue to what happened later on Instagram Stories.

2:40 PM – The Observer tweets:

“No more makeshift moments now that you are home. — The Observer”

This was a direct reference to Louis’ Instagram Story from Nov 29, 2024, where he used a yellow pen and charging cable as a makeshift capo.

The implication? Someone is home bringing the real capo back with them.

5:09 PM — Louis posts on IG Stories He's listening to “Favourite” by Fontaines D.C. at 1:14.

~40 seconds later — The Observer tweets:

Favourite — The Observer

The lyric at 1:14:

“Well, look who’s just the newest clown / 35 hours coming down / How the sun shines on new pavement / And you don’t even feel it…”

This is not a love song for a new flame. It’s about:

Things being different than they were when you were young

Being worn down by life but one person always being the same

Still clinging to someone who’s always been your favorite

Later lyrics:

“Ah, it makes sense when you understand The misery made me another marked man And I'm always looking over my shoulder And each new day, I get another year older Shoulder bound to the frame of a door? Chewed into shape like a stone on the shore But if there was lightning in me You'd know who it was for”

This parallels:

“Seems you cannot be replaced. And I'm the one who will stay, oh In this world, it's just us. You know it's not the same as it was. .” (As It Was, released THREE YEARS AGO ON THIS DAY - April 1, 2022)

Both songs are about change, distance, and enduring emotional connection.

Harry attended Fontaines D.C.'s album launch in August 2024 (Hot Press source)

Louis followed Fontaines D.C. on Instagram on March 26, 2025

Harry celebrated their BRITs win in 2024 (TikTok proof)

9:15 PM – Louis posts on Instagram Stories

A full photo of the guitar — confirming it’s his.

Note: The location is not Ibiza, where Zara McDermott is currently posting from.

The picture of the guitar shows a pool that has clean, modern lines, a concrete barrier, and overlooks the Pacific — consistent with Louis’ known LA rental.

Please keep in mind: this could all be coincidence. I'm not here to convince you one way or another. There are a thousand ways to debunk or explain this away. That's the point of plausible deniablity.

[insomniac4000]

Making It Right ChrisMD

Chris has been a little absent lately but makes up for it

Y/N stared at the clock on the oven.

00:43

She tightened the dressing gown around her waist and padded barefoot into the living room. The soft lamp light glowed against the paper bag on the counter—Thai takeaway, untouched, cold by now. She’d waited. She’d really waited.

The last time she checked her phone, it was 11:30 p.m., and there was still no message from Chris. Not a call, not a “Sorry, running late.” Nothing. She had scrolled through her feed aimlessly, trying not to obsess. Then Arthur had posted that story: Chris at the pub, pint in hand, laughing.

That hurt. More than she expected it to.

Tonight had been their night. No collabs, no emails, no edits—just dinner, wine, and that film she kept telling him about. She’d lit candles. She even did her hair, for God’s sake, she had enough and went to bed.

Chris stumbled through the front door just after 1:00 a.m., the click of the lock sounding louder than usual in the quiet of the house. He kicked off his trainers, the buzz of laughter and lager from earlier still fading in his head. The shoot had wrapped at eight, but a few of the lads suggested grabbing a pint. One drink turned into three, and the idea of texting Y/N to let her know evaporated under the pub lights and pool table banter.

“Y/N?” he called softly, even though he knew she’d be asleep—or pretending to be.

No reply.

The living room lamp had been left on, casting a warm glow over the now-cold takeaway he’d promised they’d share hours ago. Her favourite Thai—green curry, no bamboo shoots, extra rice—still in its paper bag, untouched. Guilt stabbed him in the chest.

He padded into the bedroom and found her lying on her side, back to the door, clearly awake.

“Hey,” he said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sorry I’m late. We went for a couple after the shoot, and—”

“I know,” she said, her voice brittle. “I saw Arthur’s Instagram story. Looked like fun.”

Chris winced. Of course someone posted. “I didn’t mean to stay that long. I lost track of time.”

She finally rolled over to face him, and her eyes were red, lashes clumped together. “You didn’t text. You didn’t call. And you knew we had plans tonight. This was supposed to be our night.”

Chris opened his mouth, but nothing useful came out. She sat up, pulling the duvet around her, like she needed it for protection.

“This isn’t the first time, Chris,” she said, more tired than angry. “You’ve been cancelling on me for weeks. Always work, or drinks, or something else. I feel like I’m not even on your list anymore.”

“I know,” he admitted, rubbing his face. “I’ve been a dick. I’ve just been caught up with shoots, and brand stuff, and—”

“I don’t care about the brand deals,” she interrupted. “I care that my boyfriend doesn’t even ask how my day was anymore.”

Chris felt like the worst kind of idiot. She wasn’t wrong. He had been so wrapped up in filming and edits and the YouTube treadmill that he’d forgotten the one thing that mattered more than all of it. Her.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just—I’ve been selfish. You deserve better.”

“I feel like I’m just… waiting around for you to remember I exist.”

That’s what it felt like. Like he loved her—but only when it was convenient.

He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. She turned away, tears pricking at her eyes. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Not like some neglected girlfriend begging for attention.

But God, it hurt.

She didn’t say anything, just lay back down and turned away again.

Chris sat there in silence, staring at the floor, wishing he could undo the last month of neglect. He’d taken her love for granted, and now, seeing the tears she tried to blink away, he realised just how close he might be to losing her.

The next morning, Chris was up before sunrise. His phone buzzed with group chats and brand messages, but he ignored them. He had something far more important to focus on.

He scribbled a quick note and left it on her bedside table before quietly slipping out of the room.

“Out running errands. Be back soon. Dress comfy. Today’s all about you. – C x”

She was still in her dressing gown, reading the note again with a skeptical expression. “What’s all this?”

“Morning,” Chris said as he peeked in, holding a tray with two coffees in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “Flat white with oat milk and cinnamon. And… an almond croissant.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “From Rosemont Café?”

He grinned. “I queued for 20 minutes with a group of cyclists talking about carb-loading. I earned this.”

She let out a breath—something like a laugh. A cautious one.

He handed her the cup. “This is a peace offering. A proper apology is coming.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but took a sip. “You said ‘dress comfy.’ That sounds ominous

“Trust me,”

She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “The coffee and croissant is starting to be a good reason to….”

Chris smiled sheepishly. “Fair. I deserve that.”

She sipped the coffee and sighed. “Okay. What’s next?”

He drove her to a flower market near the river that only opened on Sundays. The kind of place bursting with colour, scent, and elderly vendors shouting about their peonies. Y/N’s eyes lit up as soon as she stepped out of the car.

“I forgot this was today!”

“I didn’t,” Chris said.

They wandered through stalls hand-in-hand, and he insisted she pick whatever she liked. She chose a bundle of soft pink peonies and a cluster of lavender, and Chris carried them like they were treasure.

“You remembered I love lavender,” she said softly, clearly surprised.

Chris shrugged, though his chest ached with regret. “I remember everything about you, Y/N. I’ve just been too much of a knob lately to show it.”

She smiled faintly. “That’s the most British apology I’ve ever heard.”

Next, they drove to a quiet nature reserve just outside the city. A hidden spot Chris knew she loved, especially in spring when the wildflowers bloomed along the trails. He packed a backpack with snacks, blankets, and yes; bug spray knowing Y/N was a magnet for the little creatures.

The walk was peaceful. Birds chirped, sun filtered through the trees, and for the first time in weeks, they talked. Not surface-level updates or reminders, real talking.

She told him about her latest project at work, about a friend’s engagement, about a book she’d read. And he listened—really listened.

When they reached a secluded clearing, he laid out a blanket and opened the bag.

She gasped. “You packed strawberries and Nutella?��

“With toothpicks, so we don’t get sticky fingers. I’ve grown.”

She laughed—a real one—and they sat close, shoulders brushing, feeding each other strawberries and watching bees buzz lazily around the grass.

After a while, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “This is perfect.”

Chris exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath since last night. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ve let you down. I don’t want to be the kind of guy who forgets how lucky he is.”

She looked up at him. “Then don’t be.”

They drove back toward the city, and Chris made one last stop. It was a little overlook on a hill behind a park—a place they’d stumbled upon on their third date. Back then, it was cold and muddy, but they’d watched the sun set and laughed about how neither of them had dressed for hiking.

“I can’t believe you remembered this spot,” she said, looking out over the rooftops.

Chris pulled a hoodie from the car and handed it to her. “Still unprepared, but at least warmer this time.”

They sat on the bench and watched the sun dip behind the skyline.

“I’ve been scared,” he admitted quietly. “Things with the channel have been going well, and I just kept telling myself I had to keep up, say yes to everything. But somewhere along the way, I forgot what matters.”

She turned to face him. “You didn’t forget. You just needed a reminder.”

He nodded. “That reminder nearly left me last night.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, then reached out to intertwine their fingers. “I was really hurt, Chris. But I’m still here.”

And just like that, he felt the knot in his chest loosen.

Back home, she arranged her flowers in a vase while Chris reheated dinner—actual dinner this time, not forgotten takeaway. He lit candles, played her favourite playlist in the background, and poured her a glass of wine.

When they sat down to eat, Chris raised his glass. “To being present. And not being a knob.”

She laughed. “I’ll drink to that.”

They ate, talked, and when she eventually curled up next to him on the sofa, head resting on his chest, Chris pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I love you, Y/N,” he murmured.

She looked up at him with tired but happy eyes. “I love you too. Just… don’t make me cry like that again.”

“Never,” he promised. “Next time I forget what I have, punch me.”

“Oh, I will.”

The next morning Chris posted a photo on Instagram the next morning—just the view from the park bench, captioned “Sometimes you need a reminder of what really matters.”

It wasn’t a brand deal or a challenge video. Just a quiet moment. But in the comments, people noticed.

“This is so wholesome omg.”

“Chris turning into a softie.”

“Did you finally realise your girlfriend’s amazing? Took ya long enough.”

He laughed, handing the phone to Y/N, who rolled her eyes playfully. “Even your fans know.”

Chris pulled her close. “Yeah. But now I really know.”

And he meant it.

[wcbblife]

Midnight Comfort

a/n: trying to write more to the Paige mom drabbles bc i love writing these.

The clock on your bedside table reads 1:00 am, and you groan as your head pulses with the all-too-familiar pain of pure exhaustion. You both had been awoken by a faint and muffled cry of “Mommy!” No doubt, Mia had a nightmare again.

Paige shoots up from her slumber, wrapping an arm around your shoulders immediately to stop you from jumping up and rushing into your daughter’s room. “I got it,” she reassures you, pressing a short kiss to your temple before gently pushing you back down to sleep.

“Paige…” you murmur, your voice filled with a mix of concern and fatigue.

“Seriously, I got it,” she insists, her voice soft yet firm. She goes over to your side, tucking the covers around you once more. “Just sleep.”

You know it would be better for you to take this since Paige has recovery early in the morning, but as she runs her palms soothingly along the sides of your arms, you feel your eyes start to close, and you ultimately give in to the exhaustion. The last thing you hear is her gentle footsteps as she leaves the room.

Paige makes her way out of the room and into the hallway, immediately hearing soft whimpers coming from Mia's room. She cracks the door open slowly, allowing a sliver of light to filter in. She turns on a bedside lamp, its soft glow casting gentle shadows on the walls. “Hey baby,” she whispers, stepping into the room. She’s immediately met with a hug from Mia, who clings to her legs, trembling.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Paige asks softly, crouching down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Momma, I'm so scared,” Mia says, her voice muffled as she burrows her face deeper into Paige’s legs.

“C’mere,” Paige says gently, lifting Mia into her arms. She carries her over to the bed and sits down, holding her close. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

She starts to rock Mia gently, humming a lullaby that always seems to calm her down. She strokes Mia’s hair and whispers comforting words, assuring her that everything is alright.

As Mia’s sobs begin to subside, Paige tucks her back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She sits beside her, holding her hand and staying with her until she feels Mia's breathing slow down, indicating that she’s falling back asleep.

But instead of leaving, Paige feels the pull of exhaustion herself. She tries to slip out of the bed, but Mia clings to her arm.

Smiling softly, Paige decides to stay. She carefully lies down next to Mia, her tall frame awkwardly fitting into the small bed. Paige curls up, tucking her legs in as best as she can, and drapes an arm protectively over Mia.

The next morning, you wake up and immediately notice Paige isn't beside you. A bit concerned, you get out of bed and head to Mia's room. The sight that greets you melts your heart: Paige and Mia are cuddled together in the small bed, both sound asleep. Paige’s head is resting on Mia’s pillow, her legs comically bent to fit the small space, and one arm is wrapped around Mia.

Paige looks adorable, her usually composed self looking slightly disheveled as she tries to fit and shift on the tiny bed. Mia has a content smile on her face, snuggled close to her mom.

You quietly grab a blanket from the chair and gently drape it over Paige, making sure they’re both cozy.

However, Paige stirs slightly as she feels the soft weight of the blanket being draped over her. She blinks her eyes open and sees you standing by the bed, a loving smile on your face. Careful not to wake Mia, Paige gently untangles herself from the small bed, planting a soft kiss on Mia’s forehead before slipping out from under the covers.

She straightens up, stretching her tall frame and wincing slightly at the cramped position she had been sleeping in. Catching your eye, she gives you a sleepy smile. “Good morning,” she whispers, stepping over to you.

“Morning,” you reply quietly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You looked so cute.”

Paige chuckles softly, “Yeah, my back might disagree with you on that one.” She glances back at Mia, still sound asleep, before looking at you again. “I need to get ready for my recovery session.” You nod, knowing how important these sessions are for her. Paige leans in, giving you a tender kiss. “Join me in the shower?” she asks with a playful glint in her eyes.

You smile, taking her hand. “Of course.”

[bisexualbrainrots]

TV Boyfriend.

a cute thought came up in the chat and this fic is the result. it's a format I've never tried so bear with me for this one. It's pretty much just cute louliver stuff all around.

The video starts as Lou gets into his car, a little shake in the camera as the door closes with a loud noise. He puts on his seat belt before looking up and smiles, teeth showing a bright smile.

“Hello everybody,” he says, and holds a coffee cup in his hand, a quick cut showing him drinking it before the next shows him driving, “I decided to make a little video showing what a day in the set of 9-1-1 is like, today's a… pretty busy day for me. I've got to shoot quite a few scenes, which is why I'm awake at…” he looks into his watch before he raises his eyebrows, feigning surprise. “5:30 in the morning, woah. Not to mention I already got my morning workout done, so today's bound to be fun.”

fic under the cut or read on AO3 (for registered users only):

Next clip shows him arriving at the studio, the light of the sunrise making its way towards the lens, unfocusing the video for a second. “A good thing is getting to see the sunrise as you arrive, you know, can be a reminder that it'll be a good day.”

His face shows as he walks down the parking lot, the sounds of his feet as they step on the asphalt.

“Right now I'm gonna head to my trailer, change and get ready for hair and makeup.” the next series of clips show his character’s name on the door; Lou before and after costume change, his blue flight suit on as he winks at the camera; and a few moments where he looks at himself in the mirror.

Next clip starts as he walks down towards hair and makeup, half of a face by his side, “Kenny and I are having breakfast together after we're done, go say hi Kenny.”

Choi shows his face, a close mouth smile as he waves “Hello you guys, this is Kenny Choi and we're heading towards hair and makeup to fix all of this, you know this guy needs it”

Kenny points at Lou with his last statement and that makes him laugh hard, and he shakes his head.

“For your information Choi, I am already pretty, if I say so myself,” he says in a feigned arrogance that gets a laugh out of Kenny.

In an instant, the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he looks somewhere the camera cannot see yet, a soft “Oh my god” makes it out of his mouth before the camera switches and shows Oliver walking with Aisha, Lou's hand is seen as he points towards him “There’s my TV boyfriend!”

A snort, belonging to Kenny, can be heard in the background as the camera shows Aisha covering her mouth and Oliver’s body contorting as his laugh can be heard in the distance. The camera switches once again to show Lou's wide grin, accompanied by a faint blush, before it cuts to the next frame.

They're all in their respective chairs, where multiple chatter can be heard. The angle shows Lou and Oliver sitting next to each other as the makeup artists work on them.

“I still can't believe you're this hype at 6:00 am Lou,” Oliver says, clearly sounding tired as he looks down his phone, “I had to fight to get out of bed this morning.”

Lou smiles “Well TV boyfriend, I got my daily dose of caffeine before I came here, and I'm already quite pumped for today.”

Oliver can be seen biting his lip as he shakes his head, “It's not just caffeine, okay? You're pumped even when you shouldn't be.”

“Wouldn't you know about that,” he wiggles his eyebrows at Oliver who looks at him with surprise, he mouths a “stop” as the team keeps working on them.

A few clips of Lou having breakfast show him with members of the cast and crew. Conversations are seen but they're muted.

Next clip shows Lou as he walks somewhere, “Right now I'll begin to rehearse some of my scenes for the episode. Since you guys will have watched it by now, I hope you liked to see Tommy and Evan have a moment during the emergency. It's… it's pretty cute, the random encounters at a scene,” he's smiling as he approaches the helicopter that'll be used for the scene. 

A few outsider clips show Lou and the rest of the cast rehearsing their scene together, with a focus on him and Oliver.

In the next clip Lou and Oliver can be seen closely talking against the helicopter, both smiling and breaking into fits of laughter, Kenny's voice acting as background, “And here are the TV lovers in their natural habitat, they always got something to talk about, you know?”

“And they never tell us what it is,” Aisha's voice is heard too, sounding like she's in a documentary.

“All we can do is smile and nod as they laugh about whatever it is they find funny. It's impossible to keep track of these two, now we'll leave you as we get to lunch.”

The progression of the day is shown through various clips: Lou and Oliver as they have lunch, more filming and makeup retouches. Lou can be seen smiling politely at members of the crew.

In a new clip, Lou can be seen resting on a couch, a more tired look on his face now, “We got some downtime in between takes and I've been blessed to find this great couch, and oh, look who I found.” the camera turns revealing an Oliver who's sprawled on the other side of the loveseat “It’s TV boyfriend everybody!”

“Remind me again, why did I let you call me that?” Oliver can't contain the smile that appears on his face as he looks at Lou.

Lou chuckles “Because you're also a dork, Oli, and you love it when I call you that.” He uses his foot to poke at Oliver’s leg “You are a sap, own it boyfriend.”

“You forgot the TV.”

“Or did I, TV boyfriend?”

Oliver's laugh is loud and he simply shakes his head, muttering something the audio doesn't catch.

Several clips showing the last bits of progression of the day are displayed: the scenes he only films with Oliver, funny moments between him and the cast during downtime, snack breaks, bits and pieces of sketches Lou is working on.

The camera once again is in the interior of Lou's car and he is seen entering just like at the beginning. He looks a lot more tired, contrasting the higher energy he displayed at the start “Today was a lot guys. We worked on so many cool scenes that I'm hoping every one of you loves and appreciates just as much as we did. It's been such a great experience to work on this show and… I guess it really makes me happy to see the response to the story and its progress,” a few knocks of his car window knock him out of his feet, and he nervously laughs as he looks at whoever is on the other side.

His head moves back to the camera and he smiles “Right now we're going to go out to dinner, nothing fancy just some burgers, so it's time for me to say goodbye. Thank you for watching this video blog of a day in the 9-1-1 set, I hope you liked it! There'll be more too so stay tuned. Bye bye” he blows a kiss to the camera and the video ends.

[sugar-coat-it]

Body piercer! Matty

Part 2 , Part 3

May I present my pride and joy (and first AU), body piercer Matty <3, based on the 2020 NOACF mohawk era

Fem! reader

****CW! Needles, pain****

Contains: Matty piercing reader’s nipples*, lustful fantasies, praise, Matty has a tongue piercing, HELLA tension and pining, Matty being a sweetheart through the whole thing

*note, I don’t have nipple piercings lol, apologies if any of this is inaccurate.

Word count: 5313

—------------------------------------------

PART ONE- Fate lands you in Matty Healy’s capable hands when looking to get your nipples pierced. Tension ensues.

—-----------------------------------------

The thought of getting your nipples pierced had been in the back of your mind for what felt like years. It nagged at you every time you saw a pretty girl with barbells poking out under her tank top, you wanted to be her. You’d done all the research, article after article on the healing period, the pain level, and the kinds of jewelry you can get. You also knew fairly well how they enhance sexual encounters, which had a whole draw of its own. You’d done everything except actually make the appointment. That is, up until a few days ago. Fresh off of a breakup and tired of feeling sorry for yourself, you’d called your local tattoo parlor and scheduled a slot with a body piercer named Maddie, then hung up feeling rather pleased with yourself for finally getting it done. The anticipation of the leadup to the appointment had you biting your lips raw. You’d gotten other piercings before, but never in a place so intimate. Never one that required taking your top off, that’s for certain. But friends had been encouraging you nonstop, telling you what a “hot girl” move it was, and who were you to argue? 

Finally, the day comes, and you’re swinging open the parlor door a little too hard, evidently very tense. The bell that jangles when the door opens clanks against the wall, making the man behind the counter startle. Wide-eyed and wincing, you shoot him an apologetic look, embarrassed that you’d practically ripped their front door off the hinge. Great start!

Slowly, after making sure the door is safely shut, you approach the counter, absentmindedly toying with the rings that adorn your fingers, twisting them between your thumb and your forefinger. The man at the counter is exactly who you’d expect to be working at a tattoo and piercing parlor, but an even more stunning rendition if you were being honest. His slightly sleepy-looking eyes brighten a little at the sight of you, a fluffy mohawk of chocolatey waves sitting atop his head. He’s adorned with inked patterns along his skin, a patchwork of symbols across his arms that you restrict yourself to only glancing at for a moment. His eyes crinkle at the edges when he greets you with a warm smile, offering a little wave before you start to explain why you’re here, your voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

“Hi, I’ve got a 1:00 appointment?” you explain before providing your name, trying your hardest to stop fidgeting.

Your mind is in about 20 places, and it doesn’t help that your heart just fluttered at the eye contact he’s holding with you. The man nods at you, a low hum rumbling in his chest as he picks up the scheduling book, sifting through the pages with black polished nails. When he turns his head, you catch a glimpse of the single silver hoop earring that he’s sporting quite well. Curiosity creeps up like a slinking cat, making you wonder what other modifications he might have. His narrowed eyes scan the book, toffee-colored irises flicking over names until he finds yours penciled in, jabbing his nail against the page.

“Yeah I see you, you’re with me then. And, you did your paperwork and payment stuff, it looks like,” he says, snapping the schedule closed definitively.

“Oh, no I don’t think…” you start to correct, tilting your head at him with confusion until you trail off into quiet.

 That’s when it catches your eye, the nametag on his white tank top reads “Matty”. Then it clicks. Matty. Not Maddie. You’d scheduled your appointment to get your tits pierced with a guy. A very attractive guy that was now going to watch you squirm like a child. Your jaw drops slightly, a sinking feeling in your gut starting to fester as you realize your mistake.

“Everything alright there? Second thoughts, perhaps?” Matty prompts, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at you. 

“No… no second thoughts. To be honest, I thought I had an appointment with a female piercer,” you answer, preemptively grimacing before you’d even finished your sentence.

“Oh, shit. Well, that’s not ideal. Listen, we can get you in here another day then, no problem. Tell me what works for you,” he says, already scrambling for a pencil to put your name elsewhere in the book. 

“Actually, I think it’s fine. I’m already here, right?” you offer, shrugging to try and appear more nonchalant about the whole thing (your palms are sweating).

“Are you sure? Seriously, I don’t want you uncomfortable on my watch. It’s not a big deal to get you a different appointment,” he frowns, absentmindedly twirling the pencil between his fingers. 

His eyes are strangely soft for someone with such an intimidating job, you can only describe the feeling they give you as melting. You can’t quite place why, but his presence alone is somehow quelling your nerves, even if it’s just a bit. Your hands start to still, dropping to rest at your sides as you decide to let him do it anyway. He looks trustworthy, right? 

“Yeah, I’m sure. But thank you, truly,” you say, a soft smile pulling at your lips at how keen he seems on making you comfortable. 

Matty nods slowly, rising from the chair while eyeing you like he’s not sure if you’re going to turn on your heel and run out the door if he looks away. He asks you to follow him to the back, you’re trailing close behind as he pulls his baggy camo pants further up his hips by his belt. The room he leads you to is small and fairly chilly, but only in temperature. The space itself feels homey, plastered with stickers and posters of various punk bands, it doesn’t feel like some sterile hospital room. 

“Stay standin’ for me, just need to get some things,” he instructs, turning to reach for his supplies, including the jewelry you’d selected over the phone, “and, whenever you’re ready you can take your top off, okay?” 

Without the pressure of his eyes on you, it takes a moment before you slowly ease your shirt up and over your shoulders, setting it beside you. You take a slightly uneven breath as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra, suddenly forgetting the muscle memory from doing it for so many years. The moment it’s off, the rush of cold air instantly sends a shiver licking up your spine. You lean back against the counter, trying to appear as casual as you can as you eye the piercer. Your eyebrows slope with admiration, softening your expression as you realize that he’s now aimlessly fishing through a drawer, trying to give you time to ease into undressing while he’s still turned around. He stays with his back to you until you clear your throat, signaling that you’ve finished. His expression is unphased as he turns around on the heels of his platformed lace-up boots. God, he really is beyond cool, isn’t he? 

“Right, I’m gonna put these on, and then I’ll mark the placement,” Matty explains, holding up a pair of latex gloves. 

Matty pulls the gloves over his sizeable hands, the bulging veins catching your eye as he flexes his fingers to test that they’re taught. He’s taking a few steps closer to you, now only about an arm's length away as he explains that he’s not going to touch you without the gloves, though of course, your first unfiltered thought is that you wish he would. His eyes hadn’t strayed from your face for even a second this whole time, being remarkably neutral despite the fact that you were topless. Though, you suppose that sort of thing must not phase him since he’s probably pierced tons of nipples. That doesn’t stop the odd tinge of disappointment that he hadn’t even glanced at your body. You swallow the feeling like it’s bile, knowing that it’s totally unreasonable to want him to gaze at you with anything but professionalism. 

“Is it okay if I put my hands on you? Need to clean the area,” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, it’s making you slightly weak in the knees, he’s just so fucking gentle. 

You nod, rolling your shoulders back in preparation for him to touch you while he pours solvent on a cotton pad. His disciplined, gloved hands reach out, and only now does he allow his gaze to dip down to your chest. You could swear his breath hitches just a little, the quiet room allowing for the smallest sounds to be heard. Maybe he is just a man after all. The thought makes pride simmer in your chest, but you’re not dwelling on it for long, your mind going blank the moment he starts to swiftly swipe the pad along your nipples, sanitizing your skin and also effectively making them harden from the stimulation. You tense up, standing straighter than before as you bite back any semblance of a reaction. Matty throws you a glance to assess your discomfort, soft brown irises following the slopes of your features. He places the sanitizing supplies to the side, now uncapping a purple skin marker. This was going to be a long process if he kept looking at you that way.

“Nothing's happening yet, okay? Just gonna draw on where they’re gonna go,” he says, holding it up while raising his eyebrows as if to say “Look, it’s harmless”. 

Matty leans in again, his eyes narrowing with concentration, gloved knuckles brushing the side of your breast as he marks a dot on the side of your nipple. Watching Matty stare at your tits with such laser focus has your cheeks flushing just slightly, heat prickling at the bridge of your nose. He runs the tip of the marker from one side of the hardened bud to the other, marking a symmetrical dot. Tingles spread under your skin like wildfire, he’s barely touched you and yet you can feel yourself buzzing at the slightest sensations. His pretty brown eyes meet yours and he just smiles at you sympathetically, knowing how hyperfocused on his every movement you must be.

“You’re not breathing,” he whispers, playfully jabbing the capped end of the pen against your arm. 

Your eyes widen as you realize that he’s absolutely right, you’d been holding your breath this whole time. You release your bated breath, your chest heaving slightly as Matty keeps looking down at you, giving you a moment to regain your senses. You swear the eye contact while being inches away from him is making you more lightheaded than the lack of oxygen. With a satisfied nod, he resumes, repeating the same process of drawing the dots at the peak of your other breast. Then, he takes a step back, biting the cap of the marker between his canines while he evaluates his work. This allows you another moment to admire him as he eyeballs the symmetricalness of his markings. Your mind is wandering, perhaps trying to distract you from how intently this man is studying your breasts. You’re wondering what it would be like if he wasn’t so gentle with you. What if he touched you instead with greed, the need to satiate himself? In your head, you imagine the warm, honey tones of his eyes darkening like tinted glass as he drinks you in not as his client, but as something to desire, to want to feel flush beneath his calloused fingertips. This version of Matty doesn’t try to limit every graze of his working hands, he’s starving; groping, and mapping every part of your skin that he can reach. You’re jumping the gun now, the image flashes through your mind like a ricocheting bullet: Matty’s got you pressed up against the wall, his hands are mean as he grabs a handful of one of your tits, his thigh is hitched between your legs, keeping your thighs parted. His head dips down, his shaggy mohawk tickling at your neck as he tugs on the silver barbell through your nipple with his teeth, pain melding with pleasure till they’re impossible to separate. And, oh, fuck, does he have a tongue piercing? Your eyes flick down to his mouth now, mind reeling as you spot the silver stud on his tongue revealed by the way he’s chewing on the cap of the marker. You are losing yourself, and fast, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Alright, looks just about even. Would you go ahead and lie down there, darlin’?” he asks, cocking his head towards the reclined padded chair next to him. 

Now is where the nerves are starting to kick in, it’s all fun and fantasizing about your body piercer until you actually have to sit in the chair. You were hardly able to mentally fawn over the pet name as you took unsure strides to situate yourself in the cold, plastic parlor recliner. Matty busies himself with preparing various metal objects while you stare up at the ceiling, squinting at the fluorescent lights and wondering why you wanted your tits pierced so badly in the first place. Then, his unreasonably darling face is in your field of vision, peering down at you with a consoling smile.

“Comfy?” he prompts, a needle in one hand and a small pair of forceps in the other.

It’s not a comforting sight, no matter how lovely the man holding them is. 

“Sorta. I’m actually kind of a chicken about these things,” you admit with a wobbly smile in return.

“No… really?” he grins boyishly, clearly being sarcastic with you. 

You shoot him a look for that, but it melts away into a little laugh, you can’t seem to even fake a cold stare around him, it’s sort of pitiful. Standing over you, Matty raises the forceps close to your breasts but doesn’t touch you with them just yet. You bite your lip, lifting your head to get a better look at what’s happening, even though you’re not entirely sure you even want to watch. 

“Now, this is just going to feel like a little pinch, shouldn’t hurt,” he says, his voice lowering a little before he slips in a: “You’re doing really good.”

The praise tears your gaze away from his hands and onto his face, blinking in disbelief at the way he’d caused a fizzling pang of desire inside you so effortlessly. That feeling doesn’t get any weaker the moment you feel the cool metal clamp around your nipple, your lips parting with a soft gasp, hands tensing with the urge to hold onto something, to hold onto him. Matty’s pierced tongue darts out past his lips in concentration, soothing over his bottom lip as he lines the needle up next to the hardened bud. You jolt at the sharp tip of the object against your sensitive skin, your hand shooting out to grab onto Matty’s bicep in a moment of pure reaction. Both of you seem equally shocked that you’d suddenly clutched his arm, your nails slightly biting into his skin amongst the spattering of pretty freckles that mark him. There’s a moment of the loudest silence you’ve ever heard, his stare feels like it’s searing you. You’re about to rush into apologizing, but then he’s placing his tools back down onto his tray of supplies, tentatively reaching to rest his larger hand over yours, enveloping it in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m just lining up my shot. I’m gonna tell you when it’s time, okay? Just breathe with me for a moment,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing tenderly over the back of your hand. 

He takes an exaggerated breath, encouraging you to do the same, his chest rising beneath his white tank top. You mirror Matty, taking a deep breath in of, well… him. He smells like a dizzying combination of Marlboros and woody aftershave because of course, he does.

“That’s it, much better. It’ll be a whole fuckin’ ordeal if you pass out on me, so stay with me here. Can you do that?” he questions, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Yeah… yeah, I can. Thank you,” you say softly, trying to disregard the sparks radiating under Matty’s palm. 

You stay like this for a few breaths longer, Matty doesn’t look away from you and you’re not so sure that it’s only because he doesn’t want you to conk out. His gloved hand gives yours an encouraging squeeze before letting go slowly. The heat still lingers as he retrieves his tools a second time, the flexing of his bicep under your grasp reminds you that you should probably let go of him now. But, the moment you start to retract your hand, he glances at you and speaks in that silky tone of his.

“You don’t have to let go, s’okay. You can use me like a stress toy, or something. I don’t really care,” he shrugs, winking at you. 

You just nod dumbly, your eyes going a little wider as you settle your hand over his bare arm again, right over the top of his Newcastle United seahorse tattoo. You’d like to use him in other ways too, but that’s not very appropriate, now is it? 

You let out a sigh as you come to the same point in the process again, Matty lining up the needle diligently while keeping your nipple clamped with the metal forceps, but this time, you get to cling to his arm. You don’t want to distract him, because it would be your loss in the end, but there is a sense of satisfaction when you feel his bicep flex slightly as you trace your thumb along the symbol inked on his skin, following the curve of the seahorses mane with your nail. 

“Okay, love. Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m going to do it on three, and when I say three, I need you to take a sharp breath in for me, like this,” he instructs, then shows you what he means with a harsh inhale through his nose. 

You breathe out a weak “okay”, already gripping his arm harder from the anticipation building up to a high. You decide it’s best not to watch, especially since you’d promised you wouldn’t pass out. You let your head rest back against the chair, your nose scrunching as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Matty begins to count down, increasing the pressure of the clamp. 1. 2. 3. You inhale sharply through your nose at the same time that an unprecedented amount of burning pain reverberates through your chest, your eyes snapping open. You’re clawing at his arm, a cry ripping past your lips while tears well up and blur your vision. It’s a feeling so intense that it’s seeping through you to your stomach, crawling like the meanest sunburn. Of all the piercings you’ve gotten, you can say without a doubt that this takes first prize for the most painful.

“Oh, fuck!” you sob, the sound being embarrassingly close to a full-bodied moan. 

Matty slides the jewelry through while swiftly retracting the needle, trying to stifle the way the sound you’d made was affecting him, echoing in his skull in a way he knows it shouldn’t. He doesn’t even flinch despite the way your nails are leaving angry, red crescents marred on his skin. He quickly screws the barbell together before completely retracting his hands from you, taking one more glance at his handiwork before consoling you, his heart seemingly aching for the pretty girl in his chair.

“I know, I know. Hurts like a bitch, but you’re halfway done. Doing so good, you’re alright,” he murmurs, reaching the gloved back of his hand to your face to wipe some of the stray tears on your cheeks.

You just whine, the radiating pain only now starting to subside as you keep your hold on his arm, now smoothing over the marks you’d left with your fingertips as if you’re kissing them better. His thumb grazes along your cheek for a little too long for it to be accidental. Matty’s praise while he wipes away your tears is making your mind fuzzy, it’s like he’s numbing the pain; the sweetest morphine. 

Your gasps for breath are slowing, the pain like a dull pulse, easing its grip on you. Mortification is starting to sink in now that you’re not reeling from shooting pain. One of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen just watched you in one of your most vulnerable moments, and there’s still one piercing to go, much to your dismay. 

“Fuck, this is embarrassing,” you admit with a breathy laugh at your own expense. 

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed. You could’ve done much worse, probably,” he says, looking amused as he shakes his head at you.

“Like what?” “I dunno… like, socked me in the face as a fight or flight response.”

You laugh at that, a bright sound filling the room that makes Matty’s smile grow fonder as he gazes down at you with those pretty, sparkly eyes. The moment lingers on for a few beats, tension blooming between you that almost makes you forget about the throbbing ache of your left breast (almost). 

“You do know I have to do the other one right? Unless you’re a bit odd and like the one-piercing look,” he reminds cautiously over the clinking metallic sound of him picking up his tools. 

“I know,” you sigh, “can you do it fast?” 

“Erm… I’ll do it as quickly as I can without making it cockeyed, but I reckon you’ll be fine. Besides, the second one’s always easier from what I’ve seen.”

He doesn’t seem like the type that would elude you for the sake of false security, so you take his word as gospel, settling in to prepare yourself for what’s hopefully a more tolerable experience. His next words have your heart thrumming against your ribs.

“Can you handle it?” he asks, more of a challenge than a question.

You nod at him quietly, absentmindedly drawing little feather-light swirls on his bicep. The incentive of his praise is becoming all too tempting. You want to handle it, you want to show him that you can do it. There’s a new, honeyed kind of heat seeping into your bones. 

“Good girl. You’re a strong one, love,” he praises, sensing just how eager you are.

The next pulse you feel doesn’t come from your chest. Good girl? He has to be fucking with you. Jesus, does he talk to all of his customers like this? Does he wipe all of their tears too? Something in you wants to believe he doesn’t. He watches as your lips part slowly, your lashes fluttering as you look up at him. You have to know.

“Do you call all your customers that?” you whisper, blinking up at him coyly.

“Not really, no. Only the pretty ones who deserve it.”

Your breath comes out as a shudder, it’s unfair how easily he leaves you stunned. He clicks his tongue casually before getting back to work, all too pleased by the look on your face. You know the routine by now, Matty makes quick work of clamping your nipple and arranging the prodding tip of the needle just so. You’re still clinging to his arm, or your personal stress toy, something you’ve grown very familiar to the feel of throughout your time here. The countdown starts, he’s not giving you as much time to prepare. 1. 2. 3. What was more like a shriek from earlier comes out as a whine this time, a high-pitched, whimpery noise spilling from you. You don’t curse or practically maul his arm this time, but it’s still painful, you can’t say you’re fond of how vividly you can feel the needle go in and out amidst the burning sting. 

“Beautiful, atta girl,” he whispers, screwing the end of the barbell on before leaning back to admire his work, his eyes unabashedly glued to how the jewelry sits prettily on your breasts.

You have no clue if he’s talking about you, your tits, or the job he’d done, but it makes your skin warm all the same. 

Finally, you allow yourself to look at your chest, gently sliding your hand off of his bicep to prop yourself up on your arms and get a good look at the two new adornments. Shit, they look good on you, better than you’d hoped, and perfectly symmetrical thanks to him. He smirks when he notices the way you’re gawking at the piercings, knowing that the pain is barely a thought in your mind now, too distracted by how newly desirable you must feel. Matty likes knowing that one, he’s good at his job, and two, that he’s just helped you feel sexier. He’s really enjoying watching you admire yourself and in turn, his work. There’s a slight stir beneath his baggy pants, which he knows should never happen while he’s with a client, but you might just be the sweetest thing that’s ever been in his chair. He’s allowing himself a pass.

“Shit, Matty, they’re really nice,” you gape, your stomach swooping when you glance up to see the smug look playing on his lips.

“Yeah, they came out mint. Suit you nicely, don’t they?” he says, daring to dance along the line of being unprofessional as he then glances down at your tits and whistles. 

What a boy.

“Thank you… for everything I mean.”

“Don’t mention it, you were great,” Matty smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he waves off your gushing.

Butterflies are rampaging in your stomach, god, why does he have to be so lovely? He looks like he has something he wants to say, but it goes unspoken, rattling around in his head instead. His expression is hard to read, but would you be deluding yourself to say there’s a tinge of longing? A few beats of quiet tick by, and you’re now becoming acutely aware of the fact that you no longer have a reason to be topless, awkwardly crossing your arms. Always so attentive, Matty suddenly straightens up and reaches over your body, his chain dangling in front of your face as he grabs your shirt and bra from the counter. He places them on your lap and politely turns away as if he’s never seen you undressed, clearing his throat like that will clear the thick tension in the air. 

You wince as soon as the cups of your bra meet your immensely tender breasts, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth as you power through clasping it. The sensitivity is something you’d been warned about, and now you get to joyfully experience it firsthand for the next however many weeks. Your eyes are on Matty’s back as you slip your shirt over your head, taking note of how rigid he seems as he gathers the after-piercing care papers for you. But maybe it’s in your head. You haven’t known him very long at all, it’s a dangerous game to assume any of the tension of this afternoon was real when you were freaking out for more than half of it.

“Right, any questions for me?” he asks, striding over to hand you the pages.

Are you single?Can we go out?Should we make out right now?How are you real?

“No, I think I’m alright.”

“Okay, well, if you’re not woozy, you can go ahead and stand up when you’re ready,” he says, clasping his hands together as if he’s wrapping up his job well done. 

With the care pamphlet in one hand, you start to slowly swing your legs over to the side, noticing the way Matty stands at attention like he’s ready to catch you if your legs give out. But they don’t, you’re able to stand with minimal wobbles, shaking out your hands to try and relax your poor, recovering body. 

The walk back to the front of the parlor is quiet, the both of you trying to grapple with the tension you couldn’t quite leave behind in the chair. There’s not much else to say, is there? You’re both standing next to the door now, and Matty retracts one of his hands from within his pockets to hold it out to you. Nothing says “I just blurred the lines of professionality while piercing your tits and now this is goodbye” like a good old handshake, does it? You try to keep your expression neutral even though this all feels quite bittersweet, grasping his hand with a firm shake. It’s the first time you’ve felt his hand without the latex glove between you, they’re soft, but you can tell he works with his hands, the callouses on his fingertips grazing your skin.

“Lovely to meet you, sorry I wasn’t a chick,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, you too. And don’t worry about that, I’m glad it was you,” you reply, perhaps being a little too sincere, but it feels right to say. 

“... well, listen, get home safe, alright? Take care of yourself, call if you have any problems,” he says, once again seeming like he’s biting his tongue, keeping himself from saying something to you. 

You reach for the handle of the door, but you don’t open it. You look back at him like you’re giving him one more chance to tell you what you’re hoping to hear, but he doesn’t, he just offers a nod with an unreadable expression on his face. Heartache.

“See you, Matty,” you nod in return, opening the door and shutting it behind you.

You evaluate your situation on the walk back to your car. You’ve rid yourself of the urge to get your tits pierced, and they look fantastic, but your new problem is that you have a massive crush on your body piercer that you’re likely never going to see again unless you get another piercing. It’d be a rather expensive hobby to get a piercing just to see his face, so scratch that. Your only option is to be reminded of him every time you take your shirt off, how miserable is that?

Little do you know, the moment the shop door closed behind you, Matty groaned with his face in his hands, mentally kicking himself for not asking you out, or at least getting your number. Sure, you were a client, he had to be careful, but shit, you weren’t just any client, now were you? What was wrong with him? Something about you left the body piercer stiff and tongue-tied, replaying every moment of your encounter back in his mind. Never in his life had Matty Healy felt anything for a customer.

—---One month later—----

After a hellish month of healing, scabbing, and getting your piercings caught on things, you’ve decided that there’s no real point in having nipple piercings if no one gets to see them but you. You’d like to tell yourself that you don’t think about Matty as much anymore, but that would be laughably dishonest. Dating apps are just about one of the most aggravating wastes of time ever, and you’ve had no luck meeting people naturally, so here comes the next best thing: blind dates. Your close friend fancies herself to be somewhat of a matchmaker, she’s been talking up this guy to you for days now, telling you how funny and totally your type he is, and nothing could possibly go wrong if she set you up. You have your doubts, but still, you find yourself in a cafe waiting for your mystery man to sweep you off your feet with his supposed punchy one-liners. What you don’t expect, however, is to watch a very familiar mohawked man stride into the place, the eyes that have patronized your dreams every night scanning across the cafe until they lock onto you. 

—----------------------------------------------

Don’t you worry, I won’t leave you hanging with just tension, ofc there’s going to be a smutty part two <3

Thank you very much for reading, I hope it wasn’t underwhelming! And thank you to any other writers that I reached out to to consult about my ideas, ily, mwah!

[shuaboo]

it’s new years eve, and your friends decided to throw a huge party. you spent most of the night dancing, playing games, and drinking. but 10 minutes before 12 o’clock gunwook pulled you away to a different room.

now you’re here, straddling his thighs and riding him while all of your friends and guests count down ‘til its january 1st.

2 minutes . . .

gunwook keeps his hands on your hips, guiding you as you ride on his cock.

1 minute . . .

“fuck, baby. you feel so good around me, i don’t think i can last much longer.” he says between groans, the snug fit of your pussy making his mind go cloudy and his eyes roll back.

10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .

he holds you tighter and thrusts his hips up. “let’s cum together baby. on 1, okay?” his pace is almost animalistic. both of you are moaning so loud, you’re worried that everyone outside might hear you amidst the chatter and music.

3 . . .

2 . . .

1 . . .

January 1, 2025 00:00

screams erupt from outside the room, everyone yelling out a “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” while the fireworks begin to shoot up into the sky.

and as if on queue, both you and gunwook cum together. he pulls you in for a deep and passionate kiss, both of your arms around each other.

as you both pull away, he tucks your hair behind your ear and pulls your head to his chest.

“happy new year, baby. here’s to another year of us, and many more to come.”

he kisses the top of your head, as you watch the fireworks outside the window. both of you wrapped around each other’s embrace, close as ever.

there’s no better way to spend the new year, than with him inside you.

happy new year everyone:3 gunwook shot his own fireworks inside reader— WHAT!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

[patopq]

Nott & jester supercut timestamps

TLDR: for my first c2 watch, i wrote down every timestamp of every nott-jester moment in the campaign and.. here they are

so, a friend told me we could split work, so now there ARE chances im ever doing this in video form at some point. in the meantime ill just leave them under the cut if anyone wants them at hand.

disclaimer: it WOULD be only timestamps but i left notes for myself so i could find these moments later. there's a mix of spanish and this is not really.. made to be understandable, its a guide for future me but i also find it hilarious.

there are also sam & laura moments

this genuinely helps me as a tool to look up what happens in what episode. its like.. uh when was that moment?? oh right around the time jester and nott send a letter to caleb's ex girlfriend.. i prob wrote that down XD

yes, you can find every nott & jes moment that has ever fucking happened and if theres something missing absolutely tell me so i can add it!! the video is not being made yet (at times i did have to think to myself.. ok maybe this moment isnt worth adding or it'll be TOO long)

TIMESTAMPS:

Ep1 0:37:52 are you guys staying here? "Dont move tiefling can only see movement" Ep1 55:43 look at all these friends we're making here Ep2 3:41:40 Ep2 4:01:13 "it was Ornna" Ep3 1:53:57 good cop / bad cop Ep4 3:54:57 "beau, let the detectives figure this out" Ep5 0:37:35 jester gives nott flowers Ep5 2:55:04 jester cura a nott "oh no nott 😔" Ep7 2:17:34 nott & jester HDYWTDT Ep9 0:36:22 "i was desanitising him" Ep10 0:40:07 nott borrows jesters ring NOTT moment Ep10 46:20-46:26 / 48:09-48:38 Ep11 0:48:21 laura sees sam's cask Ep12 2:22:38 trying to throw a grappling hook Ep12 3:15:20 "i save nott" Ep13 3:49:30 pumat reading tary's book Ep14 1:27:36 Jester's fartsEp16 1:24:35 nott & the rings Ep16 3:49:54 "make out with him" Ep16 3:52:30 "gee, i should take baths more often" Ep17 0:52:44 & 53:42 "ill bet agaisnt her" Ep17 1:38:13 "jester! should i shoot him?" Ep19 0:25:12 & 0:27:18 nott betting for jester Ep20 0:14:31 nott pukes whiskey Ep22 3:07:04 "maybe mermaids rescued you" Ep22 3:09:32 Ep23 1:17:08 "kiri do you want some human jerky" Ep24 0:13:25 jester gives nott a sparkler Ep24 1:01:10 but caleb. We want to dance with you Ep24 1:47:09 J&N macarena dance (drinking game) Ep26 2:36:43 'jester says im a great detective' Ep29 3:43:37-:42 & 44:08-:24 & 44:48 "case closed" Ep30 0:13:58 "case closed" (again) Ep30 0:27:38 "snuggle up for body warmth" Ep30 3:09:14 "afraid? Im not afraid of anything!" Ep31 18:56-21:39 sending a letter to the solstryce academy concerning Astrid Ep31 1:53:38-54:00 & 58:13 & 58:39 & 59:14 2:00:37 N&J sullying a temple Ep32 1:55:35-1:56:55 Nott meets Jester's mom Ep32 1:57:43 "she CAN heal, she's able to" Ep32 2:18:28 J&N draw the gentleman Ep36 0:30:11 "no, you go next" Ep36 0:35:02 J&N interrogan a un pirata Ep37 1:20:51 Laura y sam whispering uk'otoa Ep37 1:43:26-44:41 & 44:53 checking fjord's abs Ep38 0:28:13 nott trying to lie to jester about rubies Ep39 1:30:04-1:30:30 Nott on (fruit) drugs Ep39 2:34:21-36:34 & 38:01-39:02 & 39:58 & 42:04-42:37 J&N awesome shot, fluffernutter Ep39 3:29:11 Fluffernutter shot going off Ep41 0:21:14-26:11 J&N talk the kiss Ep41 2:07:34-48 & 08:30 descubren el potencial del pincel magico Ep42 2:44:32-42 "dont let go nott" "oh im letting go" Ep42 2:51:29-52:40 "are you saying.. that we made a mistake?" Ep44 1:02:33 "auto-tuna" nott moment Ep45 2:08:02 "are we being replaced?" Ep45 0:38:15-39:46 meeting twiggy & the flower in jester's hair Pt1 Ep45 4:33:57 "i think it worked" flower Pt2 Ep46 0:43:04 is he hitting on you Ep46 2:37:16- nott fears going to the water Ep47 1:32:45-33:15 "thanks mom" Ep47 1:57:18 "that's if there's ANY LEFT 🗣️" (money) Ep48 3:18:02 "no, there's people out there he knows, you dummy" Ep48 3:53:26- laura after seeing notts backstory Ep52 1:10:57-11:12 J&N & the minotaur Ep52 3:39:19 J&N ringing 2 bells Ep52 3:47:12-49:21 & 50:43-52:40 & 53:06-:49 J&N talk to that lady "we're a dinamyc duo" Ep54 0:55:07-:32 "so what's yer name, ey?" "Ohhh" Ep54 1:41:59-42:57 "we might need a man to take care of us, fjord" Ep57 1:20:01-21:54 & 23:16-:25 & 23:53-26:07 & 26:31-:44 & 26:50-27:02 & 29:15-30:00 & 33:24-:30 & 35:02-:23 nott reunites with yeza Ep57 3:01:47 "a bone?" Jester tattoos yeza & Nott Ep58 2:34:42-35:58 Ep58 2:37:37-39:24 calling luc (Veth's son) Ep58 2:40:58-41:43 "I LOVE YOU" Ep60 3:46:25 watching yasha, sleeping under leaves Ep61 0:55:51 thinking of a way to humiliate bodo

Ep61 1:03:25-:55 half the party dressed as Bodo and 2nd half as his lover, performing his poem Ep62 1:12:22-14:53 caleb finds out J&N sent a letter to the solstryce academy regarding Astrid 17:18 N&J regret doing the letter Ep63 0:47:11 CYCLE BROKEN Ep64 0:29:28-30:00 bcs you are shiny, blue and beautiful? Ep64 1:05:04 "im real drunk" "oh nott :(" Ep65 2:55:07 jester is rlly bad at sending messages Ep66 1:10:35 jester steals nott's flask (pay attention to laura and sam here) EP69 0:18:58 nott asks about her flask Ep70 2:31:29-32:11 deciding who's talking to the birght queen Ep71 57:50 my sam riegel is showing Ep71 2:23:08-:30 lauras reaction to nott possibly leaving the m9 Ep76 2:46:13-:50 & 47:16-:38 & 47:56-50:03 killing the innocent guard Ep77 2:25:30-26:56 updating yeza on details Ep77 2:28:56-29:18 yeza didnt understand the message Ep77 2:38:04-39:30 checking on ~~the gentleman~~ dad Ep80 0:20:06-:30 & 21:04 who stole the beacon Ep80 0:22:01-:53 J&N try to act normal Ep80 1:34:10-:25 (beau just discovered where the heart that obann is seeking is but jester had said it before) Ep81 1:01:07 jester throws nott into the abbys of doom Ep81 1:15:22-:34 "r u gonna throw me into the abbys (again)?" Ep81 3:26:41-:55 there have been attacks in hupperdook "thats where kiri is you guys" "was" Ep82 is jester in love with the traveler? Ep83 59:27 ask me a question only i would know Ep83 1:12:35 this is essentially a crime scene Ep84 2:56:47-47:00 jester wants to pull fjord aside Ep84 2:58:41 what do you think they're talking abt? Ep84 3:01:26 what do you think they're talking abt? Ep85 1:39:29-40:23 & 40:47 & 43:14-34 discussing if they want to go see the gentleman or not Ep85 3:19:27-20:08 & 20:40 nott and brave lawfirm got mail Ep86 3:59:28-:47 entering the weird ass obann cult, they took nott Ep90 0:25:36 thats what we do best, steal and solce mysteries Ep91 im trying to find my place in the world Ep91 1:21:45 howndis the lady that teansformed nott look like Ep91 1:39:41 what am i doing wrong you guys Ep92 2:43:02-47:27 Ep93 2:37:16 "we're listening to matt" Ep93 2:49:35 sneaking into the hag's hut Ep93 immidietaly after dealing with the hag Ep95 "i mean, how old are you?" Ep96 1:50:49 talking to eremis stone. ep96 3:18:00 "im asking you to open your heart to chaos :)" Ep97 1:40:58-41:35 Ep97 2:57:41 talking to lord dezrain thain Ep97 1:44:16-45:07 & 1:46:30 notts ritual to becoming veth :) Ep98 0:44:12 an advice for jester sendings Ep99 1:02:48 Ep100 0:26:58 no explanation needed Ep101 0:31:11 Ep101 2:14:40-16:08 Ep103 27:13 Ep104 1:46:19 talking to the trees in rumblecusp Ep106 51:30-:34 & 51:56 good use of control water Ep106 1:35:05 the traveler con people are arriving the island Ep106 1:43:17 "we have a probletunity" Ep107 26:34 brainstorming traveler con (oh god) Ep107 1:16:28 about dick-hunt Ep107 2:09:43-10:17 deciding if to go hubt the big or small Trex Ep108 44:47-45:03 whats going to happen at traveler con? Ep108 1:33:33 nott anouncing jessie at trav. con Ep108 3:15:44 "give it to her now!" (the great 108-115 depression. i prob binged so much i forgot i was making this. i had vacations ok) Ep115 49:47-51:48 asking abt dagen's love life Ep118 2:01:49 jester getting used to being 5 years older now Ep119 3:17:17-:24 Ep122 36:58-37:17 & 37:33 Ep123 2:48:29 veth find out about fjorester Ep123 3:09:23 veth gives jester a lil something Ep126 31:31 Ep129 1:17:17-19:10 & 19:34 heavily considering a detective agency Ep131 3:14:07 jesters death wishes Ep133 2:56:40 deadnaming veth Ep134 1:07:56 "i wish i had jester here" Ep134 2:33:30 beau is great tho Ep135 2:27:05 saying goodbye to the aeormaton Ep139 40:01 but you've stolen from me.. Ep140 4:38:57 wanna paint a big dick? Ep141 47:54 sending a message to yeza as veth Ep141 3:46:09 jester, you're the painter Ep141 4:15:21 veth, the one with the giant tots Ep141 4:34:32 detective agency Ep141 5:14:35 tattoo req

shortcuts or stuff:

N&J = nott & jester This is unrelevant to you as a viewer but in case you were wondering what the signs meant, they are a guide for me: [ _:_ - _:_ ] means: 'starts in _ and ends in _' [ _:_ & _:_ ] means: 'starts in _, then it starts pt2 with a gap between those 2 clips' (but its all the same scene. im just skipping unrelevant moments) if there's no "_:_ - _:_" then its bcs i trust future me to have the same train of thought as i did when i wrote down the timestamp, thats why i end up not writing down the "when to finish the clip"; future me will know what to do

[ellieexoxo]

QUICK LORE DIVE GUIDE 📖

WARNING: Spoilers ahead for Rafayel's, Xavier's, and Zayne's story. It is not heavy, but it is necessary to understand.

Due to the requests I've been receiving in Discord for a lore guide, I decided to make a brief post about it. This won't be able to answer all the questions, so feel free to ask me. I'll do my best to respond. Please note that this is simply my personal guide and not an official one. What works for me may not work for others.

A few things to note:

Anecdotes can be read in its natural order, but it's set the way it is for narrative experience. My order is just based on what I noticed came before or after.

There is no prioritization for LIs, but I follow the order of narrative in Sarah Brightman's theme song. This goes by Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne.

Myths' conjunction to the Linkon timeline is currently and canonically unknown. There are theories and speculations in the community, but this is not that kind of post. This is a focus on making lore more digestible efficiently.

While this may be an efficient guide, I also suggest looking back to the text every once in a while to refresh memory. Not necessary, but it's helpful with understanding the story.

— RAFAYEL 🐟

ㅤ✩ㅤAnecdotes: 3, 2, 1 ㅤ✩ㅤMyth: Forgotten Sea ㅤ✩ㅤMemory: Fragrant Dreams ㅤ✩ㅤMyth: Sea of Golden Sands ㅤ✩ㅤRafayel's Trailer (Fish) ㅤ✩ㅤBond Memory: Nightly Stroll, Ebb and Flow ㅤ✩ㅤWorld Underneath: 5, 3

Due to numerous events in Rafayel's story with time that isn't specified, his story is the most convoluted one to follow. Take time with this one.

— XAVIER ⚔️

ㅤ✩ㅤAnecdotes: 3, 2, 1 ㅤ✩ㅤMyth: Shooting Stars ㅤ✩ㅤXavier's Trailer ㅤ✩ㅤMemories: Secret Garden, Galactic Harmony ㅤ✩ㅤWorld Underneath: 4, 6

Time traveling is involved in Xavier's story, so Anecdote 3 will be easier to understand when reading the Myth. After the Myth is the Linkon story.

— ZAYNE ❄️

ㅤ✩ㅤAnecdotes: 2, 1, 3 ㅤ✩ㅤMyth: Tower of Secrets ㅤ✩ㅤZayne's Trailer (00:17) ㅤ✩ㅤBond Memory: Nostalgic Sweetness. ㅤ✩ㅤWorld Underneath: 1, 2

Zayne's story involves different timelines, so Anecdotes 2 and 3 will be easier to understand after reading it.

I suggest watching the prologue in Chapter 1 and the epilogue in Chapter 8.

Once again, this is just a guideline. What may work for me may not work for others. If more lore is released in the future, I will be adjusting this post to it. As much as I try to, I'm not well-versed in all of the LIs' lores, so feel free to provide suggestions.

[elliezlils11utt]

˖° ✩୭ ✧ ˚.

♡SWEETHEART ♡

pt 1, pt 2 (reading), pt 3, pt 4, epilogue

summary: After Ellie invites herself for your playoff party things don’t go according to plan when Abby doesn’t show up. can you keep your control in front of Ellie by yourself? how about during a unexpected game of spin the bottle?

pairings: masc basketball player!reader x basketball player!ellie.

contents: enemies to lovers, slow burn, Abby and Dina cameo!!, high school Au, alcohol use, drug use, drinking games, average high school party shit, low key kinda sexual tension. not proof read bc its 1:00 am.

W/C: 2.3k?

You walk into Dina's nice ass house, now covered with colorful streamers. You and Abby had created a plan to completely toy with Ellie the entire night. This was supposed to be the Wolves playoff party. And oh did you plan to make that clear. She can come tonight, bring her friends, whatever girl is hooked to her arm this time, heck she can bring her entire team. But you were going to make sure she’s in the shadow tonight, not you. No one will even know she's there tonight and you can guarantee it.

“Oh god Y/N, please tell me you brought booze.” Dina rushes up to you, holding your shoulders tight making you jolt a bit as she speaks.

You hold up the two packs of beer you bought just before you came.

“Your knight in shining armor is here.” You smirk when she kisses your cheek.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!! I had to get a new fake I.D by a new dude… Never been kicked out of a store so fast..”

You follow her into the kitchen, placing the beer onto the island, and spinning around so you're leaning on it.

“Hey, how come Ellie doesn’t know your address? I thought you guys were like horny for each other?”

“I used to live right next to her. I moved when I came here last year, remember? She hasn’t been over since.” She sets up bowls of snacks that will definitely be forgotten once the party starts. “And how would you even know that?” She completely turns to face you now.

“She’s coming tonight.”

“What?”

You shrug your shoulders. Your best friend stares at you for a second, confusion written all over her face. “You know what, I'm not even going to ask.” She shakes her head and continues setting up for the party. You help her finish up before people start heading over, tapping the keg, helping her hang the banners and shit

When the party is in full swing, people high as shit, jumping off things, and making out in corners you start to worry. Abby still isn't here and Ellie is sure to come anytime soon. I mean normally she wouldn't talk to you, but now after the DM you weren't completely sure. You also were not completely sure how long you had been hiding out in the bathroom either because when you step out there is throw up on the wall, and someone on a cardboard box sliding down the stairs.You avoid the crowd of people and make your way downstairs. As soon as your feet land on the last step, a girl you could swear you've never met is stuck by your side. She claims you guys are dating and honestly you're too tired to even try to remember her name. And she might be too fucked up to remeber it. God, drunk people are annoying when you're sober. She's pretty? So a win is a win. Hey, maybe that's your problem. You're at your own playoff party and you're sober. You turn to the girl hooked to your arm.

“I'm getting a drink, I'll be back.” you whisper shout to her over the music. You had no intention of going back to her. Before you pour your first drink of the night, you shoot abby a text.

“wya?”

“eta?”

“are you coming?”

“im freaking out over here anderson.”

“pls come.”

Or maybe a couple… Then a couple drinks. And maybe a few hits of the blunt they were passing around. But look, you're not thinking about Wiliams anymore. She's not even here. So now you've joined the crowd. You're the one attempting flips off of tables, you're the one hogging the keg. And look! Now you did go find that girl from earlier! Called her the wrong name, and she poured a beer over your head, but at least you tried! Right? So now you're in the living room, red solo cup in hand, swaying with a different girl to the loud thumping of the music, or your head? You can’t actually tell. You whisper the same shit you did to the other girl, this time slurring your words a lot more. You slip away from her, pushing past the crowed of fucked up teens. On your way to the kitchen you bump into someone.

“Watch it.” A shorter brunette warns when you bump shoulders as if it isn’t a packed fucking party.

“Bitch” you mumble under your breath, looking back at the girl you see a Jackson jersey? You shut your eyes right where you were standing, trying to sober up to remember Ellies jersey number. 12? Fuck uh, 17? 14. Her jersey number is 14. When you open your eyes, and search for the girl, she's gone. Maybe it is time to sober up. Party’s just starting.

~~~

When you finally get a good look at her she’s in the middle of a beer pong match, her green jersey sticking out in the crowd. The plan is still the same. Abby may not be here, and she will definitely be getting an earful from you for that, but right now you need to lock the fuck in.

“I call next.” You say to the girl across the table from her. As you speak your eyes never leave ellie. When her head lifts she meets your eyes for the first time. She doesn't say anything, no, her smirk says it all. It's quick, and honestly kinda hot. But she quickly returns to her match, bouncing the ping pong ball right into the cup, winning the game.

“y/n, thanks for the invite.” Her voice is loud, yet you can barely hear her over the chaos. At least you hope you misheard her, because what invite? More than that, you're just grateful she spoke first. If she didn’t you think the entire game would've been played in silence.

“Yeah, no problem. Nice to see you” Play along, play along, play along, play along, play along. You refill the cups on your side while she does the other. Is it just you or does this feel awkward? Maybe you shouldn't have done this. God, where's Abby? The two of you go back and forth with the ping pong balls. No words exchanged anymore, just extreme eye contact as you chug the beer from the cup when one of the two of you makes it. Her gaze is challenging, makes you feel like you're on fire. Her green eyes flash different colors under the lights of the party. And somehow, somewhere along the way, the entire fucking party became your audince. Remember how Dina can make everyone forget about school rivalries at parties? Well you may or may not have completely fucked that up, beacuse now you and Ellie are mascots for your schools. The two most popular mascs playing each other in beer pong separated the party in half. You’d think that this was a beer pong game of life or death because of how serious the party was taking it.

“Looks like we’ve got an audience.” Ellie mumbles to you, her smirk only growing larger as she prepares for her throw. Of course as her ping pong ball falls into your cup, her side of the party hollars way louder than needed. Slowly, not faltering from your eye contact, you pick up the solo cup. You hold it to your lips and throw it down your throat. The liquid burns, your throat aches feeling like it's burning. You crush the cup on your head and throw it to your side of the crowd.

“Might as well put on a show huh?”

You're not wrong, if you have an audience why not give them something to watch? Maybe instead of making her invisible you can make yourself better. At this point the both of you only have two cups left each. You throw, you miss. She throws, makes it. You throw, you make it. If she makes this next shot it's over for you. The whole point of this was just to speak to her, get in her head, maybe freak her out before the game. Now you have the entirety of the party watching you, watching her beat you to be more clear. You wanted people to see you as better than her, finally step out of her shadow, this is fucking embarrassing. Ellie cocks her hand back, veiny fingers throwing the ball so delicately. The entire house fell silent, the only sound being the ball hitting the table.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Dinas voice breaks everyone out of their trance. The ball rolls to the floor.

She missed.

She actually fucking missed.

“Can we not go one night without this dumb basketball rivalry? Everyone, upstairs. Now.”

The crowd mumbles and whines, clearly disappointed the game was put to a pause. You on the other hand were fucking estastic. Slowly the crowd dispersed. A small group of people followed the drama upstairs. As you walk up the stairs you feel Ellie's eyes burning into the back of your skull. Her gaze is so fucking specific it couldnt be anyone else. Your body shudders.

Dina set up a circle of people. A bottle set in the middle.

“Anyone up for some spin the bottle?” She giggles with a smile of her own plastered onto her face. She's wrecked.

You watch Ellie step up from behind you, ignoring your presence again, she plops herself next to dina. God, she’s such a fucking asshole. With the pounding of your head you seat yourself between two girls opposite of Ellie and Dina. Ellies eye’s find yours as you sit down.

“Oh, if she's playing I'm out.” Ellie mumbles loud enough for the entire room to hear. Every girl in the circle groans at her withdrawal.

Theres no fucking way.

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” You stand up. The liquor completely took over your body at this point, no thoughts in your head could stop your mouth from moving. Ellie stands up too.

“My problem with you? What's your problem with me?” She's standing too now, meeting you in the middle of the circle. Her speech is slightly slurred. Her eyes are icey, she looks at you through hooded lids. And just as quickly as it started, it was broken up by Dina.

“What the fuck did I just say? Cut it out you two.” Dinas hand is placed on your chest, pushing you away from ellie. With rolled eyes you both return to your seats. The game starts, it's just a blur or teens making out in front of everyone. You're too focused on Ellie to care about anything else right now. You didn’t have a problem with her. I mean you didn’t. Not until now. What was she talking about? When it’s Ellie’s turn she lands on one of her fans, a girl who only joined the game for the opportunity to kiss her. Its fucking gross, watching so many girls fall at her feet just for her to be the bitchest girl. The two of them crawl to the middle of the circle. Lips meeting for a messy kiss. Gross.

“C’mon, you gotta go y/n!” Dina attempts to convince you to spin the bottle.

“I'm good, really!”

Your look at Ellie, she's fiddling with her ear. She looks up at you, only something you could see. No words again, just a slight nod in the bottles direction. Her eyes flicker from the bottle to your eyes. What the fuck is wrong with this girl? As your hands meet the empty vodka glass you watch the girls in the room straighten their backs, you swear you see one of the girls reapply her lipstick. The glass leaves your fingers and spins on the carpet floor. You don’t care who it lands on as long as it’s not her. The bottle slows directly across from you, landing on none other than Ellie Williams. The crowd whistles, some turn to each other and murmur. Dina is the one to start holloring. Your cheeks heat up, but It’s just the alcohol. There is no way that you are about to kiss Williams. The girl you've been competing against in every way since middle school? It wouldn’t mean anything to her. Or you…(?) Ellie’s the first to move, she acts like it's nothing. It probably is to her. And it should be for you to.The both of you are always kissing girls. It’s not anything different. She shuffles closer to the circle. You feel your heart in your chest, it’s just the alcohol. You move up, your ears buzzing. It’s just the alcohol. You're close enough to kiss, you should just end it now. Call it a day, kiss her, move on with your life. But you know that Ellie is a performer. You don't want to end it early, just for that reason. You think it's for that reason. Her cologne mixes with the smell of alcohol on her, you smell it on her skin. The party is going fucking insane for the two of you.

“Looks like we have an audience..” You repeat her words back to her, whispering into her lips.

“Why not give em a show, hm?” She hums back.

When your lips meet your mind goes foggy. She tugs playfully at the skin of your bottom lip. Your body is so warm. But it has to just be the alcohol. Please god say it's just the alcohol.

“What. The. Fuck.” A familiar voice speaks, a voice you've been looking for all night.

Abby stands at the doorway, red solo cup in hand, and her jaw dropped.

Welp. so much for the plan…

A/N: i deleted social media so i have nothing better to do then write. 🔥🔥‼️‼️ this series is lowkey a flop. we thug.

🏷️ @ssijht @bready101 (i deleted the og fic without saving the tag list im so so sorry if your not tagged.!!)

[the-ate-show]

00:08 Fortuity Wc: 2.4k SHORT CHAPTER WARNING

You gasped, coming face to face with 6, who flung 2 across the space. You couldn’t pay attention to what was really going on, all you know is you were tackled by someone, who promptly began to go at your face with their fists. It was 5 likely, considering 6 went to free 8, but it was hard to see with the tears obstructing your vision. You wondered if you’d lost a few teeth, or maybe your skull shattered or something. 

You awoke to your arms being tightened behind your back, a throbbing headache pushing at the front of your skull. You groaned, blinking the stars out of your vision, to find yourself face to face with 6. You gasped a bit.

“Morning princess. Didn’t hit you too hard did I? We’ve been waiting for you for a while,” 6 teased, pressing the revolver he possessed into your skull. You growled at him. “One of you took things too far,” he stepped back. “I’m down 8 toenails. So tell me, which one of you did this?” He sat back on the spinning thing. “I really underestimated you guys. My bad.”

He got up, pointing his bat at 3. “Did you do this?”

“No. I’d never do that. I swear, okay?”

“And you?” he pressed the wooden thing into 1’s face.

“It’s not me. I swear! I mean it.”

“You?” he tilted your jaw up.

“No, it’s not me,” you stuttered.

“You?” he asked 7, who shook his head promptly.

“That leaves… you.” he said to 2. “It checks out, given your feelings for me. I’m a rational guy. I get it. ”

He sat back on the ground and chuckled, “I get it, the need for revenge. But one of you just took things too far. I mean- this isn’t revenge this is just torture.” he laughed maniacally. “I’m speechless guys, really I am,”

He reached back, grabbing a revolver, “When I was tied up, not only was I thinking about busting the attacker, but also about an interesting way to do it. A little game, russian roulette, you know it right? There’s one bullet in here, you’re odds are one in five,” he got up, pointing it at 2’s head. “I won’t shoot your head, no, I’ll aim it at your leg, it’ll be way worse,” he chuckled. “Now, shall we begin?”

He crouched in front of 2, who gasped for air, shaking at the prospect.

“Who did it?”

“I don’t know!”

He did a slow little countdown, which she repeated that she didn’t know, and then he pulled the trigger. She screamed, but the gun clicked, and nothing was shot. 

“Lucky girl. Today is your day. But still, I think you deserve a little beating,” he grabbed the bat and began to hit her. She grunted and yelped, but generally got off easy compared to what could've happened.

“Now,” 6 pushed his hair back, panting. “Our dear mr. limousine liberal, you know the culprit?”

“No. I don’t know who it is,” he shot back immediately, breaths shallow and quick.

“So you have no idea? Okay. Here we go,” he aimed the gun at his inner thigh, pressing it into him tightly. Yu shook aggressively, 6 continued to taunt. “Ready? It’ll sting a little,” he reacted to your terrified look with a little grin. “Keep her watching,” he told 5, who obediently came to keep your head in place. 

“You’re supposed to reset the gun,” you spoke between pants of air. “Reroll th-” he shot before you could finish.

The shot echoed in the otherwise quiet arena. Your screams mixed with that of the others. Yu collapsed, blood draining out of him like a faucet. He convulsed, groaning and screaming and sobbing. 5 was quickly by his side, wrapping his leg to prevent further blood loss. Silent tears flowed down your face as 6 reloaded the gun, spinning it and crouching in front of you.

Yu screamed especially loud as 5 tied him up, and you let out a choked sob, wanting desperately to help. You kept your gaze fixated on his weak form. He was so desperate for just some kind of relief.

“Don’t worry about him,” 6 moved your jaw to face him with the gun. You cried harder at its sight, and the man smirked like a villain, wiping your tears with the metal. “You’ll be fine, one in five chances right? Tell me, who’s the culprit,” he trailed the gun down your arm, down your thigh and tapped the area just above your knee. You whimpered slightly.

“I don’t know,” you said between sniffles. “I don’t know!” 

He mocked you, putting on a pout, “You don’t know? Could’ve saved your boyfriend a whole lot of trouble. You and I haven’t always gotten along,”

“But I wouldn’t hurt you,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I would,” he said with a sleazy smile. “You wanna count her down?” he looked back at Yu, who had his face tightly against the ground, still whining. 

“He’s gonna die,” you said shakily. 

“We won’t let that happen,” 6 responded. “I’ll count instead. One…” you found yourself shaking too, your body betraying you. “Two…” his finger twitched on the trigger, when suddenly 3 yelled out.

“WAIT!”

You all paused to look. 

“I know who it is! No. I mean, I know how to find out,”

“How’s that?”

“A witness. There’s a witness!”

“A witness?”

“The cameras! I’m sure you can buy the footage or something,”

8 got up excitedly, to see the cameras. You droned out after that, they left 5 to look after you guys though. Yu finally looked at you, and your lips trembled at the sight. 

“7 are you okay?” 1 spoke, and was answered by a loud scream coming from him. 

“Fift-five,” you stuttered, “You need to help him now! The tourniquet isn’t enough, YOU’RE GONNA KILL HIM!” you sobbed out, body wracked with tears. 

5 looked between you and the intercom, “If I leave they’ll hurt me,” she whispered to you, “As soon as they’re back-”

“That’s not enough! PLEASE,” she continued to ignore you, looking nervously at the rooms.

“Who was it?” 2 spoke, still out of breath. “We’ll find out soon enough,”

“1… It was you wasn’t it,” 7 said, exhaustion evident in his voice.

1 sputtered, held back tears and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Thinking about what he did to me,” he began to cry, “I was so furious, upset and…”

“You wanted more money,” 2 sighed.

“Is that so wrong of me? They used us. Don’t we have a right to do the same? Why do only we suffer?” 

You tried to ignore the hatred that suddenly burned inside of you for 1, logically, this isn’t his fault, but your ex boyfriend is bleeding to death from a bullet that had 1’s name on it. 

6 descended down the stairs with renewed vigor, ready to end 1’s entire life. Before he even made it halfway down the stairs, 8 tased him, causing him to fall, and a loud snap was heard.

“He’s paralysed,” 8 said as she walked down. “5 can you go tie him up?”

5 gasped, but nodded, running to try to help the man.

8 came up, giving a speech about how happy she is in front of the cameras, and the timer. Then, you were all escorted to your rooms. Before they could stuff you in yours, you begged for just a moment with 7. She declined, and she held a weapon to you as 5 tied you up.

The door shut, and the room was engulfed in an eerie darkness. The tears flowed freely from your eyes, down to your pillow. The dampness just added to the tragedy really. The frigid air was so cold it made you curl in on yourself, shaking with new round of cries. This was the worst, ever. Everything had gone so far south, and it made you think for a moment, what could’ve possibly prompted him to join the game? He was a rich kid, he came from luxury and trust funds and no college debt. He lived a fulfilling life, and from your information never gambled or took out illegal loans. Why was he here? If he was struggling, why hadn’t he reached out?

The door creaked open again, and you found 5.

“Um… 4… 8 said you could see 7,” you perked up, and she helped you to your feet to walk up there. At the door, she untied your hands, and told you that she’ll be back to fetch you when 8 feels like it. As soon as she gave you the greenlight, you entered. He was laying on the ground, near one of the corners, mountains of medical equipment around him covered in blood. His lips were trembling, eyes unfocused, staring into the floor.

“Philip,” you spoke softly, closing the door behind you. His frantic eyes found yours, and there was a visible relax in his shoulders. “How’re you feeling?” You treaded lightly, stepping over blood seeped tissues and discarded metal tools. 

“Cold,” he sniffled, driving a shaking hand through his hair. 

“Yeah,” you responded, going to grab his blanket. Of course he was cold, he lost a lot of blood. 

You draped the material over his shoulders, trying to bundle it in a way it wouldn’t irritate the wound. His pants hung over his desk, allowing you full viewing of the bandages. You hope 5 did a good job.

A soft thump came of his head against the wall. It seemed he was still in shock, his eyes blinking between places, unable to find solace.

“Still hurts,” he finally croaked out, a small sob causing him to twitch slightly. He finally met your eyes directly, and you cupped his jaw gently, wiping his tears with the pads of your thumbs.

You kissed his cheek softly, and he rested his forehead against yours. You joined him, sitting in the corner. He laid his head against your shoulder, letting his face sink into the material of your top. 

You held one of his hands in yours, trying to soothe his tremor. Ice cold, they felt fragile. Carefully, you threaded your hands through his sweat infused hair, pushing the strands back from his face.

“C’mon,” you whispered softly, tears running down your face. “Don’t die on me 7,” 

He let out something that could almost be considered a laugh, lifting his head to face you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, even quieter. 

You stared longingly at each other for a while, wishing that things could just be different, the blue cast on the room making it hard to really make out his features. You traced your shaky fingers across his face, down the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips.

“I thought you were gonna die,” you said honestly, avoiding his gaze.

“Die? You just told me you were gonna give me a second chance after this,”

You giggled, then pinched his arm lightly, “Don’t make me laugh this is serious, did 5 treat you okay?”

He nodded, glancing down at himself and running a hand through his hair. “I was high on adrenaline, I think, didn’t feel most of it.”

“Good. Good,” you nodded solemnly, you squeezed his nose softly, and he scrunched it.

You leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I was really scared I’d lose you,” he leaned forward in an attempt to catch your lips in a proper kiss.

“Almost dying doesn’t earn a man a proper kiss?” he pouted in response to your shying away.

You giggled, “Okay, okay,” you leaned forward, and what was meant to be just a peck deepened into a full on makeout session. 

He placed a shaky hand on the back of your head, pulling you in impossibly closer. You yourself pushed yourself closer to him, unsatisfied by the fact you were not completely intertwined. You panted in pauses, then continued in a starving manner. He needed you more than he needed oxygen. His hand slid down your side to your hip, and you parted, leaning your forehead against his.

He stared at you with half lidded eyes, lips swollen and parted, cheeks flushed, breathing laboured. You leaned forward, kissing his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then you cupped his face to kiss his cheeks in a suffocatingly drawn out kiss. 

He snorted, “I should get shot more often,”

“Don’t joke like that,” you said sternly, he kissed your jaw in response.

The room door creaked open gently.

“4… you have to go,” 5 spoke. You let out a small sigh. He held onto your hand tightly, pleading with you to just stay. 5 sniffed a little from where she stood, but gestured with a small taser to show you had no choice. You hung your head, giving him a final smile before walking out. Her eyes were red, tears fresh on her cheeks. You scoffed.

“4,” she tried as you approached your room.

“I don’t blame you 5,” you said through gritted teeth, “But I still don't like you,” she nodded, and tied your hands and feet once you got to your room.

You spent the night huddled in your room, scared and alone. The next morning however, you woke up to 5 and 8 in your room. 5 sat you on a chair, placing a bowl of water around your head, something to strap your head back and metal plier things to hold your eyes open. 

Sleep deprivation torture. They played this weird sort of video on repeat, and you felt your brain progressively turn mushier. The days blurred into each other, with you unable to blink or look away from the imagery- you’d started to hallucinate, unsure of when reality stopped and dreams started. 5 came in daily, multiple times. Breakfast and dinner, you gouged out. Shed clean you, and give you mini updates on 7.

“The wound got infected, but he’s fine, just a little faint,”

“It’s getting better with the antibiotics, but he’s not a fan of the shots. I guess you probably already knew that,”

“He won’t talk anymore, I think he’s too tired,” she turned her back from the camera, “He asked about you though,”

“1 has a plan, just follow my instructions,”

A/N: OKAY so this is way too short for my liking, however, there's really not all that much I can add, and I don't want to blend chapters together ya know? sorry for suddenly disappearing btw! I'm in my minecraft obsession phase. also i need to find a new show to write for bc this series is already almost done :o Taglist:

@entr4p3 @vlurdao @sweet1squash

[fictionfixations]

what if bridon arc but i pay attention to the times (ep 1) (at least the ones that i can notice since some look like they have something but then i cant make it out so shrug)

im really bad at dates so bear with me here. dates will be added to time when i can see it on that frame but unless stated otherwise just assume theyre following each other in order

23:10 - they hide in the darkroom

23:11 - he pauses before rushing to xiaoshi who is laying on the ground. xiaoshi takes his hand, apologies and tells him 'save them'

00:04 - lu guang is upstairs getting the photo (HE SPENT AN HOUR WITH XIAOSHIS DEAD BODY IM-)

00:05 (09-13) - he goes back in time

17:32 - he ends up back in the past (assumedly. his watch is missing but its the time on the photo)

05:29 (04-12) (it then ticks to 05:30) - bruhs sitting on his bed thinking. his eyes are still gold

05:31 - he puts his hands down

05:33 - he replies to xiaoshis text, see below (THATS AFTER TWELVE HOURS PASSED IM. i didnt think about this cause they didnt really do much time travel so i wasnt thinking of like seeing it in the present but that it happened in the past so i. om.)

08:00 - xiaoshi is in his bed looking at his phone, at lu guang's contact (google translate tells me xiaoshi tells him that they should play basketball together tomorrow)

when he stops by at the time where he probably helps them paint the building his eyes are normal colored

13:30 (06-09) - xiaoshi is there to take pictures of the main coser (lu guang) of the anime club

12:30 probably..? (next day) - they arrive at the convention

13:34 - they get the kung fu master package (the bag) and qiao ling leaves to get it

14:35 (06-10) - qiao ling exits the line after getting the collector's edition of kung fu master 7

DONT BE SHY SHOW ME THE TIME

15:54 - lu guang gets the display book and opens it

15:55 - hes flipping through it

i cant read this. google translate says it says '13:30 start shooting' so i assume when they start taking pictures at the con

'13:35 separate actions' when qiao ling left to get the game?

'14:45 lost items' assumedly around when qiao ling and miaomiao switch bags (or maybe when she realized they had switched bags?)

'15:55 found the photo' the photo in the display book of her?

15:56 - lu guang says he knows how to find her through divination

15:57 - he tells them to close their eyes, xiaoshi protests but qiao ling says to give it a try

15:59 - hes about to look through the photo

16:00 - he looks (that is 16 right?)

(looking through photo) 14:35 - qiao ling and miaomiao say goodbye and switch bags

22:52 - miaomiao flashback (how do i describe this)

(past) signing event of RanXi Chronicles at 15:00 next saturday?

16:59 (06-10 2019) - xiaoshi talks about adding his divination (if it was real) as a side gig to the studio

17:00 - lu guang says he has to leave, qiao ling tells them to hurry up. he turns back but xiaoshi grabs his wrist and brings him inside

(flashback) 14:50 - vivian getting zhou xun into investing (also same time when he gives her 100k seemingly? or he was thinking it)

7:20 (pm?) - they beg lu guang to do his magic thing (I think? the seconds hand keeps confusing me). lu guang tells them to get out as his condition

next day at 7:20-ish pm - lu guang has their phones on call and puts one in xiaoshi's breast pocket

8 pm - xiaoshi meets vivian who thinks he is zhou xun

21:46 - vivian seemingly texted the bad guy (idk name) that xiaoshi (who she thinks is zhou xun) took the bait (again im using google translate so idk)

??? - vivian says that lu guang could get hurt (as an example, if he wanted to run away if he joined them?)

whatever this time is - vivian pretends to hurt him and has him fake his death

the guys enter the room

revealed vivian betrayed the bad guys, and xiaoshi n lu guang run away

11:30 - zhou xun sees the news of vivian being a suspect (his text to her is about meeting again since he missed it yesterday)

7:20 am (probably, its bright outside) - xiaoshi tells him that he worries about lu guang disappearing. lu guang tells him he can stay in the photo studio. they do the clap that means theyre partners for life

that.. should be it?

[guitarstringed-scars]

on stage- s. hinata

act two, scene four: opening night and final bows

masterlist

the morning passes quickly. you spend it pacing back and forth in your apartment, changing your outfit 6 times, and freaking out. you’ve done this before, directed a play. this is what you want to do for the rest of your life, but it feels so nerve wracking every time. sure you told shoyo that you weren’t nervous, he doesn’t need to know anyway. it’ll only make him nervous, and he needs to give the performance of a lifetime tonight.

finally its 1:00, and you head out of the apartment. you want to get there early to make sure the house is all clean, and ready for however many people come tonight. the programs have been delivered and sit on the front desk of the theater building. you grab the box and start to unpack them. on the front cover, it reads ‘directed by y/n l/n’ and you can’t help but smile. directly under it there is ‘written by keiji akaashi’. you feel proud of your friends and all of the hard work they dedicate to this, just to help you out. kozume who spends late nights setting up lights. shimizu who learned how to work the sound for you. hitoka who adds on costumes for your plays on top of her mountain of items to make for her studies. you also feel grateful for koutaro who even though you’ll never let him in one of your productions, he continues to be your biggest cheerleader, and toru who always puts his heart into every performance.

you feel especially grateful for shoyo, who has quickly become a shining light in this production. even if you barely spoke for 3 weeks, the rest of the time he was the kindest, most enthusiastic, excited person on the cast. you are snapped out of your thoughts by hitoka and shimizu entering the building.

“happy opening night!” hitoka cheers, bounding over to you and tackling you in a hug. “we did it!”

“don’t jinx it! we haven’t even opened yet!” you say, quickly shutting her down.

“well everything you and me can do is done, it’s on everyone else now!” she continues celebrating.

shimizu laughs and leaves to set up for sound. kenma shows up soon after.

“you’ll be in the booth tonight, right?” he asks you.

“yup! i’ll probably show up a bit after show start.” you say. he nods and heads into the booth.

you and hitoka continue setting up the lobby for the next half hour as the cast starts shuffling in. you greet everyone, and hitoka heads down to the costume closet.

shoyo shows up at exactly 2. he rushes in, and half hazardly shoots you a distracted nod. just as soon as he’s there, he’s gone in the costume shop without a hello.

you spend the next 4 hours doing busy work, trying to distract yourself from the show, and rushing around when you bump into shoyo.

he’s in his costume, and looks absolutely perfect. only downside is he isn’t wearing his stage makeup.

“oh shoot, i completely forgot i said i’d do your makeup, come on shoyo!” you grab his hand and drag him to the dressing room. it’s emptied out by this point, just soft music playing off of a speaker in the corner. shoyo plops down in a chair as you grab some makeup. as you pat the foundation into his skin, he finally begins to speak.

“i’m nervous.” he says.

“i know. you’ve been quiet today.”

he laughs a bit as you brush his face with powder.

“i don’t want to mess this up.” he says.

“and like i keep saying, you wont.”

he goes quiet again, looking at his reflection from the corner of his eye.

“this makeup makes me look funny.” he says, giggling a bit.

“thats the point.” you say, focusing on darkening his eyebrows.

“really?” he asks.

“no, not really. it just is to make your expressions easier to read from the audience.”

“hm.” he mumbles as you pick up the lipstick. it’s about the same color as his lips now. as you open the cap, he speaks again. “can i kiss you before you put it on?” he asks. you look up from focusing on the lipstick. you giggle a bit before applying the lipstick on him. he frowns slightly.

as you finish up his makeup he stands up to leave. you turn his face before he can stand up, and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“break a leg!” you shout, rushing out of the room. you don’t look back, but if you did, you would’ve seen a flustered shoyo standing in shock.

you rush to the lobby, greeting audience members as they enter. you cheerfully hand them programs up until 10 minutes until show time. you hand off your stack of programs to hitoka and rush back stage.

“PLACES” you shout, and then the rushing around intensifies as actors swarm backstage. you rush to the lighting booth, slumping down in the seat next to kenma.

“good job.” he whispers, patting your shoulder as he hands you a headset. you take a breath.

you completely black out during the show. the last two hours are a blank space in your mind. there are two things you know.

one, it was amazing

and

two, you need to get on stage and address the audience.

so number two is exactly what you do. being a director, you aren’t really used to being on stage. so when the hot lights hit your face, you feel the nerves kick in.

“hi, my name is y/n l/n and i directed this play. i wanted to thank you all for coming and supporting university theater, and i also want to recognize the hard work for our cast and crew, so please give them another round of applause!” the audience erupts into cheers. “i hope you find the time to come back tomorrow, or tell your friends and family to attend. thank you again!” you smile and quickly rush off the stage as the audience begins to file out. you quickly rush through the back doors where you are greeted by the cast. toru tackles you in a hug before running off to the lobby with the others. you look out for a head of red hair, but find nothing, so you head to the lobby as well.

as you make it to the lobby, you spot all of your friends. shimizu and kozume both look exausted, hitoka and koutaro are both excitedly chatting about the costumes, and toru looks especially proud of how opening night went. as you approach, you are swept into a suffocating hug from koutaro.

“great stuff y/n! i hope you let me in the next one!” he speaks, a little too loudly for the enclosed space.

“in your dreams bo.” you say, laughing into his shoulder. “if you two are tired, you should head home. i can clean up here tonight, since we’ve got to do it all again tomorrow.” you address shimizu and kozume. shimizu falls into your arms and hugs you.

“y/n, you are the best.” she says as the two of them head off. ”lets all go find shoyo!” toru says, leading the group to the large gathering of boys volleyball players. in the center is the man himself. he smiles and laughs with the others and you feel your heart pang. he notices you quickly, and tackles you in a hug.

“you were incredible.” you mumble into his chest. he says nothing, but you can feel his smile grow against your face.

“i brought these for you.” he says, pulling away from the hug. from his bag he pulls out a slightly smushed bouquet of your favorite flowers. “thats why i was so rushed getting here today, because i was afraid you’d catch on to the surprise.”

you just smile and hug him again.

“i don’t want this show to be over!” he complains.

“hey, we have another show tomorrow, and a date on sunday, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” you say.

and you feel perfectly comfortable.

a/n: IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! there is a possibility of bonus stuff but i need a break from this! my first ever fic is done! this may be some of my worst writing ever, but that is okay because it's done, and i love it and i love shoyo. OKAY YAY BYE READ MY OTHER STUFF!

[ask-postcrash-curly]

🪼 Now Playing: Nostalgia - Chill Aqua 🪼

                   .ılılılllıılılıllllıılılllıllı.

0:00 o──────────────────── 1:44

                    ↺   |◁   II   ▷|   ♡

🚢 Loading cargo…

10% █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

🌙 Fixing the moon’s lighting…

50% █████▒▒▒▒▒

🌊 Waving back to the ocean…

70% █████▒▒▒▒▒

🐟 Reeling in the fish…

99% ██████████

⋘ please wait, my fingers’ will to live is generating... ⋙

  ────── ⋆⋅𑁍ࠬܓ ⋅⋆ ───────────

⋘ loading success! i hope it works…! ⋙

   ╭──────────.��..─╮

Welcome aboard, Grant Curly!

   ╰─..♯.──────────╯

🌻 Hi hello and salutations! Welcome to Wish A Good Fish: a small fishing game made out of the themes that you have selected: Fish, moon and sandwich. Quite an odd but quirky combination, if I must repeat! Before we kick off, there are a few questions I’d like to ask:

1.) What would your character’s appearance look like?

[P1] - Caption: Close enough, welcome back, Popo from Jollibee

[P2] - Caption: Don't worry about functionality and the constant pain, problem is solved by the power of fiction! You can still walk, talk, and... what rhymes with talk and walk? (P.S. If I must clarify, the yellow doodle is meant to look like a shooting star)

[P3] - Caption: Recovery arc at its finest! (Thank you @/peirres-play-place for the reference for Recovered Curly!)

[Custom] - Caption: You're gonna have to give me a description on what you want your character to look like

2.) Would you like to download the Tulpar Crew pack? In other words, would you like to have Anya, Daisuke, Swansea and him to be in the game? If  you’re worried about having to face him often, worry not! He won’t be here, but there will be a few mentions of him for comedic purposes (refer to question 4)

3.) Which fishing rod would you like to pick?

[1] - Curly Fries Galore (Easy Mode)

[2] - Swish-Swash-Buckling Shlongaloo (Normal Mode)

[3] -  Super Duper Ultra Rad Rod!!! (Hard Mode)

4.) Which bait would you like to pick?

[1] - Jimlings #1 (Cockroaches)

[2] - Jimlings #2 (Worms)

[3] - Jimlings #3 (Crickets)

Note from d1tz to mod:

Art may or may not be consistent, so do pardon me!

Responses regarding to game may be slow, but I will reply back!

Game will have a decision mechanic where increased difficulty will increase the probability of a fail

I hope you have fun with this as we play along!

Hm…? Nice music…

Right! I forgot about this! Hah, okay. Let me just…

All right. Number one.

Oh wow. These are great. Gonna go with P3. I really like that one a lot.

Number two…

He won’t? Perfect. Yeah, I would like to, uh, download my crew. Hah. Sounds like a blast.

Number three.

Well… Probably should start with easy, but I want a good distraction. So I’ll go with, uh, the Swish-Swash-Buckling… Shlongaloo? Did I say that right? Haha.

Four—

Wow. Okay then. Certainly a choice. Uh… The crickets, I guess.

Thanks! Looking forward to it.

[divinityandfanfics]

“ One in Millions ”

NEBULA

part 1 here

blurb: “streamer gojo has millions of fans, and fangirls. when he announced a meet-and-greet, he spotted you in the crowd. eventually, falling in love and approaching you after the event is over.”

a/n: this shi needed to be restarted bro my bad if it was slow

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ STARRING: GOJO SATORU

WARNINGS: mentions of freaky fangirls

REMINDERS;

☆ super famous streamer gojo

☆ female pronouns used for reader

☆ reader is just an ordinary fan of gojo

☆ like the DSMP, gojo is part of a gamer team named Jujutsu Kaisen

☆ non-curse au

»»————-　♡　————-««

RECAP

“so, how did it go?” suguru asks.

“good, i got her number.”

“congratulations! you won’t die alone now.”

“suguru! we’re not even together yet!”

“yet.”

“i hate that you’re right..” satoru’s head drops.

“i do want to make her mine. it would’ve been easier if she was one of those fangirls, but i don’t want them, they’re weird and freaky.”

“just shoot your shot, you’ll get there eventually.”

“sigh, you’re right.”

END OF RECAP

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you and your friend got home, and you were just getting ready for bed.

until, a familiar sound of the notification rings in your ears.

you walked over to your phone, seeing a text.

clicking on it,

--

- ‘hii’

- ‘if ur wondering why i asked for ur number’

- ‘its because u look very pretry :33’

- ‘pretty**’

‘oh? you think so?’ -

- ‘yes’

- ‘you look angelic’

- ‘icl’

- ‘tbh’

- ‘ngl’

‘well if you wanna court me,’ -

‘i don’t usually give in on the first day’ -

- ‘well damn ??’

- ‘aight miss’

- ‘i’ll try my hardest then’

- ‘before that’

- ‘whats ur name’

‘(y/n)’ -

- ‘pretty’

- ‘how old ??’

- ‘just wanna make sure yk’

‘i’m 21’ -

- ‘nicee’

- ‘23 here’

‘i already know.’ -

--

satoru smiled while looking at his phone’s screen.

he’ll try everything,

for you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

truth is,

you weren’t going to say yes to him.

but, you decided to wait.

because you felt bad.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

after a few months,

satoru has been sending stuff to your house.

flowers, chocolates, and love letters.

you both have also been hanging out,

whether it’s just to the park or at a restaurant.

he pays for the food.

he wasn’t lying when he said he will try his hardest.

you smiled, reading the letter he sent today.

--

“hi!

hope you know that even if you take a long time to love me back, i’ll wait ♡

just don’t try to love anyone else other than me while i’m courting you, okay?

love you!

streamer admirer; gojo”

--

you felt your heart flutter,

folding the piece of paper and putting it on the kitchen counter.

“that counts 37.”

37.

37 letters were sent to your house.

maybe his feelings were genuine.

you thought about it,

yes, you felt butterflies flying around your stomach everytime you read a letter.

yes, you loved him.

wait what?

did you?

yes.

it’s time.

it’s time to tell him.

you loved him.

you reached for your phone,

heart feeling like it’s going to jump out of your chest.

--

‘satoru’ -

- ‘why the first name :((’

- ‘am i in trouble’

‘no’ -

- ‘then what’

‘meet me at corazón del café.’ -

- ‘OH MY ??’

- ‘are my prayers about to be answered’

‘8 pm’ -

- ‘one more hour ;)’

- ‘hoping i dont get rejected’

--

8:00 PM, JULY 12, 2024

you sat on your chair, waiting for a certain albino fella.

the door of the café opened,

and your gaze traveled to said door.

you saw satoru, in a cozy hoodie with some jeans.

he walked towards your chair, waving at you.

“hiya!” he smiled.

“so, why did you wanna meet me?” he said, sitting on the chair infront of you, the table sitting comfortably between the both of you.

you both order a coffee, and you catch satoru looking at you while you stir your drink.

“well, i want to answer your question now.”

“oh.” he said, smiling so hard it must’ve hurt.

“i’m excited to know your answer!”

“...”

“yes.” you muttered, watching satoru’s eyes widen.

“a-are you serious?” he stuttered.

“well, yeah..” you answered.

“so, does that mean that.. we’re together now?” he asked with hope in his eyes.

you nodded, smiling so sweetly at him.

“YES!” he chided, the other people in the restaurant taking glances at him.

“alright─ alright, don’t get too loud now.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the next day, you woke up feeling relieved.

like you just felt all your problems washed away.

you did your morning routine as usual,

the familiar “ding!” of your phone alerting you.

satoru’s starting a stream.

you reached for your phone, clicking the notification which lead you to satoru’s stream.

“hi chaat~” he giggled at the camera.

“i’m very happy today!” he said, spinning his chair around.

--

suguru_geto143: “i wonder why”

togeee_salmon: “@suguru_geto143 you already know don’t you”

fush1gur0_m3gum1: “why r u so happy”

kirbyuji_itador11: “yeah tell us why”

suguru_geto143: “@togeee_salmon obviously”

gojoscoloredeyes: “did you get the skin you wanted so hard??”

sunshinedawnsonme: “why tf is bro so happy”

gojosleftkidney: “are u high gang”

tyrannosaurusrex: “bro is actually tweaking”

you-are-all-gaymers_2: “stop giggling like a madman”

heartsfor_olderwomen: “he possessed”

--

“the woman i’m courting said yes!”

he said, smiling so hard it has the potential to reach heaven.

“we’re now together! my beloved..”

--

fush1gur0_m3gum1: “what.”

gojoscoloredeyes: “are my ears deceiving me”

suguru_geto143: “gojo i told you youll get there eventually”

[🎥] satoruu_99: “@suguru_geto143 i love you no homo”

--

at first, you just waited because you felt bad.

but you didn’t realize that you were also slowly falling for him.

you chuckled,

your relationship has a long way to go.

until

you heard another notification.

--

- ‘i wanna go on a date with u tomorrow’

- ‘also u can come over to my house :)’

‘no thanks’ -

‘i kinda don’t wanna’ -

- ‘NO I PROMISEE’

- ‘I LOVE YOU I WOULD NEVER’

- ‘TRY TO DO ANYTHING TO U’

‘maybe when i know you more’ -

- ‘we have literally been texting for months about each other’

- ‘and hung out’

- ‘remember that time we like’

‘alright i get it i will come over tomorrow’ -

‘geez’ -

- ‘YAY’

--

satoru smiles, the camera catching it.

knowing that, if he didn’t see you in that event,

none of this would’ve happened.

happy with his decisions.

he turns off his phone, turning to the camera.

“i love her chat!” he said, smiling like crazy.

--

suguru_geto143: “thats sweet”

togeee_salmon: “stop ur kinda making me jealous”

fush1gur0_m3gum1: “ngl thats actually sweet”

gojoscoloredeyes: “damnn”

sunshinedawnsonme: “DO YOU HEAR THAT YOU FANGIRLS”

cupcakelover: “hes actually inlove oml”

mosquito_lovesblood: “and i thought ww3 would happen first”

kirbyuji_itador11: “AWW GOJO CONGRATSS”

--

the end. ♡

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

December 5, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Dec 06, 2024

Yesterday a gunman assassinated the chief executive officer of UnitedHealthcare, Brian Thompson, as he arrived at a meeting of investors in New York City. While authorities are still investigating, officials have released the information that the casings of the bullets that killed Thompson bore the words “deny,” “defend,” “depose,” all words associated with companies’ denial of health insurance, taken from the longer phrases “deny the claim,” “defend the lawsuit,” “depose the patient.”

While those clues could simply be a red herring, posters on social media have cheered what they seem to see as revenge against an abusive system in which people’s lives are at the mercy of executives who prioritize profits.

Health insurance companies have long been under scrutiny for their practices. For the past two years, ProPublica has run a long series exploring the different ways in which companies have developed systems to deny healthcare coverage to their policyholders.

UnitedHealthcare has been no exception either to such practices or to scrutiny. Its parent group UnitedHealth has a market valuation of $560 billion and was the eighth largest corporation in the world last year as measured by revenue. This year, UnitedHealthcare—Thompson’s unit—is expected to bring in $280 billion in revenue.

UnitedHealth is embroiled in a number of lawsuits. Andrew Stanton of Newsweek reported that on November 14, 2023, families of two now-deceased patients sued UnitedHealthcare over denial of coverage for Medicare Advantage patients for nursing home stays prescribed by their doctors. Medicare Advantage is the private insurance alternative to Medicare that receives a flat fee from the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services. It’s an enormously profitable industry, and UnitedHealth controls almost a third of it.

The lawsuit alleges that UnitedHealthcare uses artificial intelligence to deny claims from Medicare Advantage policyholders. The lawsuit claims that the company knowingly uses an algorithm that makes errors 90% of the time because it also knows that only about 0.2% of policy holders will appeal the decision to deny their claims. Last month the Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations hammered UnitedHealth for dramatic increases in their denial rates for post-acute care between 2019 and 2022 as it switched to AI authorizations.

On the same day as the shooting, Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield insurance covering Connecticut, New York, and Missouri announced it would cover anesthesia during surgery or procedures only for a specific time period in order to make insurance more affordable by reducing overbilling.

After an outcry both from anesthesiologists and the public, the company today retracted its policy change, saying it had never intended to avoid “medically necessary anesthesia,” but meant simply to “clarify the appropriateness of anesthesia consistent with well-established clinical guidelines.” Their explanation might have calmed the news cycle, but its suggestion that the insurance officials rather than doctors should determine what anesthesia is appropriate for a patient during surgery echoed the argument in the UnitedHealthcare lawsuit.

Thompson’s murder seems to be a cultural moment in which popular fury over the power big business has over ordinary Americans’ lives exploded. Maureen Tkacik of The American Prospect noted, “Only about 50 million customers of America’s reigning medical monopoly might have a motive to exact revenge upon the UnitedHealthcare CEO.” The shooter, whose actual motive remains unknown, is fast becoming a folk hero.

Social media has exploded with users writing things like “[t]his claim for sympathy has been denied”; songs featuring the words “deny, “defend,” and “depose”; and recorded commentary condemning the healthcare insurance industry. UnitedHealth Group posted its sadness about Thompson’s death on Facebook yesterday about 1:00 p.m.; 36 hours later the post had 65,000 laughing emojis under it.

Security expert Charlie Carroll expressed surprise to Josh Fiallo of the Daily Beast that Thompson did not have a security detail. “We’re living in a world where people are extremely disgruntled,” Carroll said. “When people lose trust in the system, you start seeing more kidnappings and assassinations because they feel like they have to take matters into their own hands.”

In the wake of the shooting, UnitedHealthcare and several other insurance companies took down from their websites the names and photographs of their officials.

Billionaires Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy were on Capitol Hill today where they met with lawmakers to explain their vision for the Department of Government Efficiency, the group designed to cut the U.S. budget. Neither they nor the lawmakers shared much with the press, although Fox Business played a video of Representative Ralph Norman (R-SC) saying that that “nothing is sacrosanct,” and that “they're going to put everything on the table,” including Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid.

Representative Tom Tiffany (R-WI) told Just The News that cuts to the budget “don’t have to be just the discretionary spending. We can get at some of the mandatory spending also…food stamps, some of those things.” He continued: “There may be more bang for the buck in terms of growing our economy…making regulatory changes, get the impediments out of the way, let those job creators and entrepreneurs really be able to go to work.”

In view of today’s news about healthcare, it’s probably worth remembering that Musk has called for the elimination of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, and that Project 2025 has called for making Medicare Advantage—the privatized Medicare in which UnitedHealth specializes—the default enrollment option for Medicare. This would essentially privatize Medicare for the 66 million people who use it, but since Medicare Advantage costs taxpayers about 6% more than Medicare, this would not create the savings Musk is supposed to be finding.

Andrew Perez of RollingStone reported today that election financial disclosures filed yesterday revealed that Elon Musk was the secret funder of the “RBG PAC,” a Super PAC created just before the election that claimed Trump had the same position on abortion as the late Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Although Trump has bragged about overturning the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision recognizing the constitutional right to abortion and the 2024 Republican platform supported the far-right idea of “fetal personhood”—which would apply all the rights protected by the Fourteenth Amendment from the moment a human egg is fertilized—the RBG PAC ran ads promising that Trump would not support a national abortion ban.

Ginsburg’s granddaughter called the comparison of Trump and her grandmother “nothing short of appalling.”

The super PAC was created so late that it avoided disclosure before November 5. It was funded entirely by Musk with an injection of $20.5 million.

Bridget Bowman, Ben Kamisar, and Scott Bland of NBC News reported tonight that Musk spent at least $250 million to get Trump elected. In addition to the $20.5 million to the RBG PAC, he put $238 million into the America PAC. Musk also supported Trump through free advertising and commentary on his social media platform X.

Today provided a snapshot of American society that echoed a similar moment on January 6, 1872, when Edward D. Stokes shot railroad baron James Fisk Jr. as he descended the staircase of New York’s Grand Central Hotel. The quarrel was over Fisk’s mistress, Josie, who had taken up with the handsome Stokes, but the murder instantly provoked a popular condemnation of the ties between big business and government.

Fisk was a rich, flamboyant, and unscrupulous man-about-town, who was deeply entwined both with railroad barons like Jay Gould, Daniel Drew, and Cornelius Vanderbilt and with New York’s Tammany Hall political machine and its infamous leader, William Marcy Tweed. Tweed made sure the laws benefited the railroads and, the papers noted, snuck into the hotel to say goodbye to his friend in the hours it took for him to perish.

After the Civil War, most Americans applauded the nation’s businessmen for the support their growing industries had provided to the Union, but by 1872 the enormous fortunes the railroad men had amassed had tarnished their reputation. At the same time, big operators were starting to squeeze smaller enterprises out of business in order to control the markets, and popular anger simmered over their increasing control of the economy.

Stokes’s shooting was the event that sparked a popular rebellion. Newspapers covered every minute of the event and Fisk’s demise, while sensational books about the murder rolled off the presses.

Together, they redefined late nineteenth-century industrialists, with one painting Fisk as a representative businessman who with just “an hour’s effort,” could “gather into his clutches a score of millions of other people’s property, impoverish a thousand wealthy men, or derange the values and the traffic of a vast empire.”

Both those covering the murder and those reading about it rejoiced in Fisk’s misfortune.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON