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skalfy · 8 months

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A Reputation for Good Taste

Misa x Reader, ~3.5k words, part 2/?

Part 1 here

Another part! Again, deeply unproofread, so apologies for any errors.

“I’m sorry, what??” Your friend made a show of rolling over to look directly at you where you lay, bundled in her bed. “You’re telling me that Alma cheated on you, then you drove her mistress home and somehow ended up seducing her into giving you free tickets to a football match? Actually, I’m not surprised about the Alma thing, sorry, but the rest is beyond me.”

“Maya!” You blushed hard. “None of that is what I said! Well, except for the Alma thing. I did not seduce María, and please don’t call her Alma’s mistress. All I did was drive her home and probably make her uncomfortable by crying about how I’m a bad aunt. She definitely only offered the tickets because she feels bad that my girlfriend cheated on me with her. It was so obvious that she thought she needed to do something to apologise.”

“If all she felt was guilty about Alma I hardly think she would go to the lengths she did, but out of courtesy to your broken heart,” she fixed you with a look, “I won’t argue about this right now.”

“Thank you, Maya.” You mumbled, then, “I don’t even know if my heart is broken. I’m angry at Alma for doing something so stupid to both of us, but it’s really been getting worse for a while, hasn’t it?”

“Oh honey, it has, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” She lifted the covers between you. “Now come here and let me cuddle you.”

You rolled over and let her pull you against her chest, relaxing into the comfort of your friend’s arms.

“I think my heart broke a while ago, but I really wish we would talked instead of this.” She just squeezed you tighter and you drifted to sleep.

You awoke the next morning alone in Maya’s bed, the sounds of her in the kitchen with Marc, her boyfriend, faintly audible from through the closed door. Your first thought was about Alma, and whether she had bothered to say anything to you since you left the flat. You quickly found your phone and unlocked it, opening the messages app. At the top there was an unread message, but it wasn’t from Alma. You tapped it open anyway.

María: Hi, good morning! I hope you are feeling okay and that your friend is taking care of you. I talked to the club and the tickets will be no problem and no cost. I’ll give you the details later :)

María: Do you have a jersey for the game?

Maria: It’s El Clásico, you have to wear one.

You felt a blush rise as you read the first message. It was sweet, but you were also a little embarrassed to think that María knew you needed taking care of. You quickly typed out a reply.

Me: Thank you so much, you have saved my aunt reputation and Luisa’s trip! And I am okay, thank you for asking. Between my old friend and a certain new friend who has gone out of her way to do me a big favor I’m feeling better.

You wrote and deleted the last line several times before hitting send, unsure how María would take it. You didn’t have to wait long to find out, the little dots that showed she was typing popped up after just a few seconds.

María: I think your new friend would be very glad to hear that, and glad to hear she is your friend, even if the circumstances you met in were not ideal.

María: You didn’t answer my question, do you have a jersey?

There was no resisting the grin that spread on your face as you read her message.

Me: Luisa definitely has a jersey, I got her one for Christmas.

María: I didn’t ask if Luisa had one, I asked if you did ;)

Me: Hmm, I think I have an old Barça one lying around somewhere.

You figured if she worked for worked for Real Madrid she must have a healthy animosity for the rival club, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun about it.

María: We will discuss that later, but I might let it slide if it’s an Alexia kit. Sounds like you are in need of something to wear on Saturday. Green or white?

Me: Green?

María: Yes, it will bring out your eyes. Good choice!

María: Meet me for coffee? I will give you the jersey. Before you ask, it doesn’t cost me, I promise :)

Your head was spinning, but somehow you didn’t really mind. You weren’t about to turn down the offer for coffee, if for no other reason than to buy María acoffee as a thank you.

Me: I’d love to. Let me know when and where, I am off work today so anytime works.

She sent a link to a cute looking coffee shop and said to meet her there at 3 before signing off to get back to some work. You were still giving your phone a bewildered smile when Maya opened the door to her room to check in on you.

“My god, please don’t tell me Alma has sent you some ridiculous make up text that has you falling back under her spell!” You looked up at her words, startled and confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the lovesick smile you were just giving your phone when I walked in.” You scoffed in response to Maya’s words, but still felt a sudden urge to keep your conversation with María to yourself until you had a better idea of what was going on.

“I’m just smiling at the death march sightseeing tour mum has the family on today. I was planning to meet up with them, but the play by play is equal parts funny and frightening.” It wasn’t really a lie, you knew your mother well enough to know that your prediction was probably true, and you really were going to meet up with them. It just wasn’t exactly what had you smiling, or the afternoon plan you were most looking forward to.

Maya looked like she might say something more, but a particularly loud clang from the kitchen had her hurrying quickly back out. Alone again, you decided it was long time to get yourself ready for the day.

Dressed and showered, you caught Maya and Marc as both were headed out the door to work. Maya had instructed you to be back for dinner with the two of them, but otherwise you had free reign and your spare key. Sipping the cup of coffee one of them had left on the counter for you, you pulled out your phone and called your mum.

A short itinerary run-down later, you had plans to meet up outside their hotel and a half day of sightseeing between you and your unexpected coffee plans. That left only one other call to make, and it was one you didn’t want hanging over your head any longer. You dialed the number and listened as it rang through three times before you heard the other end pick up. When she didn’t say anything, you spoke first.

“Alma.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” She answered, the guilt unmistakeable in her voice.

“I’m sorry, too.” You sighed. “It was a shitty thing to do, though. I didn’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t.”

“Did you want me to see? You had to have known I wouldn’t be out that late.” You couldn’t help but ask. Her silence was all the answer you needed. “Okay. I’ll stay at Maya’s another night, but can you have your things out after that?” Thankfully, she had moved in with you only a few months back when her lease ended. Almost everything was yours, and you wouldn’t have the added insult of losing your flat along with your girlfriend.

“Yeah, I’ll pack everything today. I really am sorry.” You could hear her holding back tears, and you were struck by a pang of affection and sympathy for her. As cruel as cheating on you was, the last few months had been hard for both of you, and falling out of love with her first hadn’t been particularly kind either.

“Thank you, Alma. I hope things work out for you.”

“You too. I’ll miss you.” She ended the call, and you felt the weight on your chest ease.

It had been a long morning with your family, but you were immensely happy to have spent the time with them. Mum’s heavy-handed tourguiding made everyone laugh, but she had done her research well, and you were glad for it. Even after living in Madrid for three years, you still hadn’t taken the time to see all the sights. Plus, everything was more enjoyable with Luisa dragging you along to point out the best bits. You walked double the steps, but it was worth it to be honored as the most interesting adult, and you loved any opportunity to hear more about what her latest activities and interests were.

Having arrived a few minutes early to the coffee shop, you were lost in reflection on your family’s antics when the light touch of a hand on your elbow pulled you into the present. You jumped a little at the contact, and felt the hand grip a little tighter to steady you. It only took you a moment to look up and catch the owner’s warm brown eyes. As soon as you recognized her, María tugged you forward gently into a hug, and you sunk into the contact.

“Hi.” She said, releasing you to arm’s length.

“Hi, how are you?” You responded a little breathlessly as her hands finally fell away from your arms.

“Better now.” She answered you with a smile. “Have you been here before?” You shook your head no, returning her smile. “Good. It’s my favorite and I’m glad I get to introduce you to it. Come!” She pulled the door open and gestured for you to step inside. Stepping through the entrance, you were hit immediately by the rich smell of coffee, and you paused to appreciate it. You looked over your shoulder as María entered behind you and spoke with joking reverence.

“I think I’m in love already.” She chuckled and nudged you ahead with her own shoulder.

“You haven’t even tried it yet, keep walking!”

The two of you approached the counter and greeted the barista. You inclined your head to María to order first, and after a moment’s hesitation, she requested a café con leche Before the barista could give her a total, you ordered your cortado, card already in hand to cover both. You turned to look at the woman next to you and she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Any pastries you recommend?” You asked, still looking at her.

“Everything is good, but my favorite is probably the pear tart.” She answered, and you looked back to the barista.

“One of those too, please.” She nodded, then recited the total and let you hand her your card. After ringing you up, she retrieved your pastry and passed it over on a plate with two forks.

You followed María to a quiet corner with an empty table. She pulled out one chair before walking to the other side and sitting down.

“Can’t risk you dropping our tart.” She said with a wink when you gave her a look. You rolled your eyes, but still felt a blush as you set the plate down carefully and took your seat. Her fingertips quickly snagged the edge of the plate, sliding it to her side of the table. It didn’t exactly bother you, but with her earlier chivalry you weren’t expecting her to immediately lay claim to the shared treat. You watched as she industriously carved out a bite with one of the forks, clearly taking care to perfect the crust to filling ratio and center a perfect slice of pear on the wedge she cut. Her focus was charming, but your mouth was nearly watering waiting for your turn.

“You have to have the perfect first bite, my reputation for having good taste could be on the line here if you aren’t impressed.” She spoke as she finally lifted her fork, extending it toward you with a shy smile. There was a burst of warmth in your chest as you realized the care she had taken was for you, even if it was only to prove she made the best choice. You opened your mouth and closed your eyes, leaning forward slightly to meet her over the table. Her free hand was loosely cupped under the fork to catch any crumbs, and it brushed your chin gently as you closed your lips over the forkful of tart. You tilted your head back as María pulled the fork away, instinctively raising your own hand as well. The back of her hand was soft where your palm met it, and she let it rest against yours for a moment before pulling away. Her trailing fingers were far from your mind, however, as soon as you began to chew the bite of tart. The flavor was divine, sharp and sweet and fresh all at once, paired with a perfectly buttery-flaky-crisp crust. María let out a burst of laughter and a fist pump at the wide-eyed nod you gave her when she asked if her reputation was secure, which in turn had you covering your mouth as you tried to swallow through a growing smile.

A barista calling out your orders had María quickly standing, waving off your offer to help, and gave you a chance to sneak a second bite and collect your thoughts for a moment. You felt silly for being so charmed by María’s kindness, from her it seemed more like second nature. Her actions, while some were a little over the top, felt like they came from a combination of genuine thoughtfulness and her desire to make you laugh. It struck you after a second, you felt taken care of. Not in the big-gesture way that Alma always wanted you to exhibit, hinting at big gifts and dramatic arrivals at her office to sweep her away to Ibiza, but something much gentler. It was nice, you realized-- both to be taken care of and for the acts to be so unpretentious.

“For you,” a hand touched your shoulder and your cortado was placed in front of you, “and for me!” María set her own cup down and took her seat, smiling and waving her hand dismissively as you thanked her.

The conversation flowed once again between the two of you, and you enjoyed it even more than you had the previous evening in your car. You managed to draw out the tart, each taking smaller and smaller bites until finally María nudged the plate toward you and insisted you take the final piece. You brought out a chuckle from her by solemnly confessing that you’d taken an extra bite while she fetched the coffees, and she happily stole the plate back to finish it off herself. With the food out of the way, you were both focused on each other, and you felt the heat of her gaze as she listened carefully to everything you said.

You covered a wide variety of topics, learning about her family and friends, her love for music, and the meaning behind some of her tattoos. She didn’t speak much about her work, but you could tell she was driven and passionate. You shared plenty in return, her open interest in what you said and thoughtful questions leading you down plenty of tangents, including a retelling of your family’s antics that had you both laughing. The two of you were so engrossed in the conversation, that it wasn’t until your phone started ringing that you realized how much time had passed.

“It’s the friend I’m staying with, I better answer.” You told María, who gave you a thumbs up as you stood to move a few paces from the table before you answered. “Hi Maya.”

“Girl, where are you?” She asked, skipping over any greeting. You looked down at your watch and realized it was after six. Not time for dinner yet, but Maya was no doubt expecting you to be there when she returned from work. You caught María’s eyes on you and rolled your own dramatically at her as you replied.

“Sorry Mum, I’m out with a friend and we lost track of time. I’ll be back soon. Do you need me to pick anything up on the way?” You could very nearly hear Maya’s eyes narrowing on the other end of the line.

“What friend? I know all your friends, they’re my friends. Unless…” You winced as she trailed off, realizing you didn’t want to have this conversation within earshot of María. “You’re with Alma? Or Alma’s m—”

“Okay! We can talk about this later!” You cut her off firmly, feeling your face heat as you wondered how audible Maya’s voice was from your phone speaker. “Also,” you continued, thinking it might be best to clarify once and for all, “I ended things with Alma officially this morning, so safe to assume I’m not with her.” Maya’s honest-to-god cheer was a bit embarrassing, but you did feel a little like cheering yourself, so you chose not to mention it.

“I’ll expect all the details when you get here. Be safe until then, love you!”

“Love you too.” You ended the call, looking down at your phone a few moments longer than necessary before raising your head to look at María. She had an unreadable expression, but quirked an eyebrow at you when you met her eyes.

“Your friend seems very fun.” She said, then after a pause, “sorry to hear about Alma.” It felt like she was giving you the option to choose whether you wanted to talk about it, which you appreciated.

“I’m not really sorry,” you said, “it should have happened a long time ago.” María kept her gaze on you, not interjecting, face carefully neutral. It reminded you of when you first looked at her in your lobby. In a quieter voice, you continued. “I don’t wish it did, though.” María’s easy smile was familiar to you already, but her lips didn’t curve this time. You felt a strong urge to leave quickly, or even better, for the floor to open up beneath you. Closing your eyes, you heard the chair scrape as she stood. How predictably thoughtful of her to leave you to recover from your embarrassment. Just as you listened for her departing footsteps, you were caught off guard by two strong arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. Your eyes opened in surprise, but it didn’t take you long to squeeze just as tightly back, relief coursing through you. María’s face pressed into the side of your neck, and you felt her speak, but the words were too muffled to hear. The two of you held each other close a while longer, before she pulled back enough to look at you.

“This might be the strangest friendship I’ve had, but I’m so glad I met you.” She said, smiling softly. You returned her smile, and couldn’t resist saying,

“maybe Alma did both of us a favor in the end.” She gave your shoulders a squeeze in lieu of answering, but spoke after a moment.

“I had better send you back to your friend before she grounds you, I would hate for you to miss the game because you aren’t allowed to leave your room for a week.” It made you laugh, but the possibility is more likely than you’d like to admit. Maya had a greater chance of grounding you than your own mother did, in all honesty. It’s enough to spur you into action, and, after returning your dishes to the counter, the two of you made your way out of the cafe. You hugged one more time, then parted ways, but a shout of your name had you turning around before you made it to your car.

“I almost forgot to give you this!” María held out a folded piece of bright green fabric to you. “It’s the whole reason I dragged you out here after all.” You took it from her and unfolded it, quickly realizing it was a Real Madrid jersey, though not in the colors you were used to seeing.

“I thought you were joking when you said green!” She laughed in response to your confusion and explained that it was a goalkeeper’s jersey, hence the bright color.

“I brought a regular one as well if you prefer.” She added, sounding a little uncertain.

“No way, this is much better,” you held it up to your chest, “does it bring out my eyes like you said?” She leaned in a little closer, reaching out to lift the fabric up to your cheek.

“Absolutely.”

That evening after you returned to Maya’s and took a longer look at the jersey you sent María a text with a picture of the back of the jersey.

Me: This Misa better be good if I’m wearing her name on my back

María: Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let you wear her name if she wasn’t

#woso x reader #misa rodriguez x reader #woso imagine #woso community #woso #woso fanfics

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lynaferns · 5 months

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The Forest On The Other Side

Chapter 1: I want to go home.

Ver. [ENGLISH / SPANISH]

EDIT: This fic is now on AO3

A girl gets lost in the forest and finds a misterious gate in the middle of nowhere. At the other side she meets a... very peculiar individual who seems to only want to befriend her and play. Everything seems fine. Until night falls and someone else joins to play...

Again, I appreciate feedback about the english adaptation. English is not my first lenguage and I still mess up sometimes.

This is in some way a more "joyful" story than BIOMáquina, still with its dark themes. I wrote this a year ago. By this I mean I forced myself to get it written down and ended up hating it and burning myself out. A couple of weeks ago I decided to reread it and I though it was pretty ok actually, so I edited it a bit to make it flow better. It used to be written more as a script for the comic I wanted to draw buuuut that didn't happen (cough stressed myself out cough forced myself cough don't force yourself to make content out of a hobby, a hobby is supposed to be for your own fun). I'm not completely satisfied with the final draft but I think is good enough for my first ever fic written.

I originally planned to make it a Y/N thing but that didn't last long. But I keeped the original idea of the first person POV. The Y/N stories I've read has always some narrator telling you what you do insert you in the story. I thought of making the MC the narrator, this way the reader can insert themselves like it's their story or they can read it as if someone else is telling them a story. This is also a bit limiting, since the narration is also the MCs thought process and sometimes I may skip details MC couldn't have seen.

AU, Magical forest, DCA centered, Sun fnaf, Moon fnaf, Elves Sun & Moon, OC, Selfinsert, Character & OC, platonic, friendship, slowburn (kind of), Moon is agresive at first, Moon is also a bit of a gremlin, Protective Sun (I think), OC is a potty mouth, Female Main Character, First person, Angst.

The first post where I showed this AU and my first sketches ideas.

Tumblr archive with all of the art, ideas and anwsered asks.

Youtube Playlist which I'm pretty proud of how it turned out :] It's in a specific order but you can put it on mix.

Note: even though I try to keep things light some things may be triggering for some readers.

CW: Anxiety, Suicide ideation, Implied death, Choking, Non sexual abuse.

Wordcount: 9,700 (It's not rounded, that's literally the number Word tells me it's at lol)

Welp.

Here we are again, in the old village house (yey...). Well, 'I am', my family won't arrive to settle in for another week. They brought me here beforehand a few days ago for organizational reasons. They took a quick look inside before they left to see the state of the house, if it needed any repairs and such, and they headed back to the city. While they finish preparing everything, I take care of the house and text them messages about anything that may be needed for when they return.

We haven't been here in years, the house needs some repairs, and I'm sorry for the spiders, but it could use a deep cleaning. We can't do a deep cleaning but I have been cleaning what I can these last few days, at least so that it looks decent... at first glance.

Well, it's not like anyone is coming to visit.

It's a quiet town, until the kids from the town next door come to make a racket with their bikes. They play in our field, scare away the cats and throw cans around. They are assholes.

Anyways, the people in the village are nice. The adults I mean, the kids I used to play with, I don't get along with them anymore. Some of them aren't kids anymore, we have grown up and are going down different paths. But those who are still kids... they're still interested in the only older kid in the town who listened to them and let them do whatever they wanted, to a certain extent.

I don't want them to come looking for me to go out and play. I've been avoiding them by saying that I'm busy cleaning the house and getting it ready for when my family arrives, but I feel like interacting with them less and less. That's why I'm going out to the woods behind the house to get lost for a while, as always. The kids don't go near the forest so they won't bother me there.

There is an area for tourism and hiking but not many people come, some police cars border the forest from time to time but they never go inside. The reports of missing people in this forest have been coming in for decades, only some lost children have returned but there is no trace of any of the adults who disappeared along with the rest of the children. The areas marked with signs are safe but you can't go out of bounds unless you want to disappear with those people.

And I, who right now am alone and with no one to notice my absence if I go missing, am going to head straight to the forest. Don't you think, I don't want to disappear, I just don't like people and I usually go into the forest but I don't go too far away. As long as I see my house in the distance, I know how to return.

I grab my bag with my sketchbook and pencil case, in case I feel like drawing (probably won't) and step out to the back porch. The outer sliding metal door that protects the inner one is rusty and difficult to open. It would be better to oil it but I don't know when it will be done, considering that the broken railing has had a wooden board tied to it for years. I already sent my mother a message talking about it.

I enter the forest and start walking around. It's hot, of course, it's early summer, but it's quite noticeable after being in the cool inside the brick and stone house. That's the good thing about coming here in summer, the houses are made to stay cold inside and it's great, sometimes I even need to wear a jacket. But outside I'm dying, the trees don't provide enough shade. In fact, some trees are missing. I used to have my routes memorized but time has passed and some paths have changed, some have disappeared and others have formed. I admit that it makes me a little sad... I began to walk absorbed in my thoughts not paying attention to where I was going.

I'm walking away, I should go back. I'm not going to draw anything here anyway, and it's hotter outside than inside so I'm gonna to turn around-

I hear screams and laughter in the distance, the sound of the voices produces me an immediate disgust. It's those kids from the next door village. They must have come to 'investigate' about the disappearances or maybe they don't care and they just came to be idiots-

They're getting closer.

I don't want them to see me. God. Don't let them see me. Anyone but them. They're getting closser. Don't let them see me. I can't go back home now. They're cutting me off. Of all the people who could have found me. It had to be them. No, please. Don't let them see me. I have to go further into the forest, I can't let them see me. They're getting closer. Don't let them see me. I want to leave. I want to leave. I'm getting too far. I want to leave. I don't see my house. I want to leave. I don't see the village. I want to leave. I don't see the kids.

...

Where am I?

Fuck.

Where am I?

I want to leave.

…

—

Now I'm wandering through the forest. I don't want to go back. I want to get out of here. Even though I'm walking in a straight line I feel like I'm going around in circles, and I'm not going to get out of here now. Great. I'm lost. Now what? People who get lost in this forest don't return, no one has returned except for some children.

...

I'm going to disappear.

...

For now I keep walking until something happens. Maybe there's an animal that kills people who get lost, or maybe it's a group of kidnappers, or maybe I should stop giving myself anxiety and focus on getting out of here. Maybe if I find a field or road, or even the tourist area, I'll be able to get out of here and return bordering the fores-

...

There is... colorful graffitis on the trees. Someone has painted eyes, hands, stars and more on the bark of the trees...

What's this?

I don't know where I've come to, I didn't know this was here, in the middle of nowhere in the forest. The trees have red leaves like in autumn even though summer has just started... The first thing I thought was 'climate change's fault' but there is something that stands out in the middle of this entire flat area and it is disturbing me.

In the center there is a kind of circular gate made of stones supported by roots.

Okay, maybe it doesn't sound aaaaas disturbing as, I don't know, a totem with a human figure being impaled or something, but it's giving me a bad vibe. What is this place? Who built a stone arch in the middle of everything and why?

A bird appears flying from behind me and goes through the gate, but nothing comes out on the other side... wait what? how? The bird has crossed the gate, and disappeared behind the stone arch? ...I had to imagine it, it's not possible that that happened. I approach the arch but not before picking up a rock from the ground and throwing it to the other side of the gate.

It's still there.

…

For some reason the thought of going through the gate makes me uncomfortable, so I go around it.

...

...And the rock? It's not there.

I go back and look from inside the portal.

The rock is there.

...

I look from outside. The rock is not there. I repeat this multiple times. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock... What?

Alright, this is weird, this is VERY weird.

Even though it is clear that this isn't normal, I have to go back, pick up a fallen branch from the ground and pass it through the portal. This time I don't throw it, I've grabbed a branch long enough to see it peek out from the other side of the arch.

...

Welp.

I should be seeing not only the branch, but also my hand sticking out of the side, but I'M NOT SEEING IT. OKAY. OK. ALRIGHT. IT'S CONFIRMED. THIS IS WEIRD.

I'm asleep, right? Or unconscious. I must have passed out from exhaustion from endlessly wandering through the woods and I'm delirious or something. No, wait, it can't be, in my dreams I'm not this aware of what's around me. Where am I?

A breeze begins to pass through the gate. It's getting stronger but not enough to push me. The leaves rise from the ground and float towards the portal, none slipping outside, all entering through the stone arch. Suddenly the breeze that had become wind stops. The leaves fall to the ground.

...

I look back for a moment, as if there was something behind me that could help me make a decision. Grabbing with both hands my bag strap I look back at the portal again. Okay. Alright. This is possibly the death of me. I'm going to cross. I'm going to go to the other side. I'm just one step away from crossing. I wrinkle my face and narrow my eyes before taking the last step.

...

Nothing has happened. Everything seems the same. However, I know it's not the same... Or at least it doesn't feel the same!

Well, I've already crossed. I'm gonna... keep walking, I guess, even though this is scaring me and I don't know if I'll know how to go back. For now I'm moving forward. The red leaves have disappeared several meters ago. It's starting to look like a normal forest, except for the multicolored drawings and handprints that I keep seeing on the trees. In fact, it seems like the trees are taller with every step I take. So high that I can barely see the top. I almost tripped while looking up. Whether this is the same forest I come from, I no longer know.

This was a bad idea. I just hope to find something that'll help me know where I am, a sign or the road if possible.

*cling*

...?

I hit something with my foot. There is a ball attached to a small chain on the ground. Oh, no, wait. *cling diring ding* It's a rusty bell, I think. It doesn't have the typical cross-shaped hole or slot, rather it has several holes in a pattern. It looks like it can be opened.

There's nothing inside.

There's nothing? But I could have sworn it had rang. I close it again and shake it.

*...*

Nothing.

I'm going to put it in the bag, it's totally a good idea. I'll think about it later, for now I'm moving on.

—

I've been walking for a while now and throughout this time I had a constant chill on the back of my neck, as if someone had their eyes on me.

*din dirring* I hear a soft tinkling in the distance.

Okay, I'm not alone, awesome, what do I do now? Do I say hi and risk the potential danger finding me? Do I ignore the sound of bells and keep moving? It's very possible that whatever made that sound is watching me right now...

“Hello?” Still nervous, I try to say hello looking around “...” “Is someone there? H-hello?”

“-HEEEEELLO!”

“AAAAAH-!” I cover my mouth with my hands as I turn to look at what the hell has greeted me back. I take a few steps back while I look at the figure of earthy and sunny tones who responded, he seems as surprised as I am, I think (with the scream I made, normal), at least it looks like he's surprised. He wears a two toned wooden mask... it looks like a sun, with a crescent moon on its right... It gives the impression of two faces merged into one... Damn, he is tall, he's almost doubles my size. He appears to have two skin tones dividing him in half, his right side being the lighter and the left darker, especially the arm, which also has a light-colored tattoo of lines representing a sun symbol that covers from the shoulder to the pectoral and to the middle of the bicep. The right arm is covered by a long fingerless glove that reaches to the shoulder and is tied around the chest. He's wearing baggy pants with leaves coming out of the waist and legs, some... cloth boots? with a long toe bending sharply and curving in a geometric swirl with a bell at the tips, a bag hangs from the waistband of his pants and falls below his hips. His chest and neck are tied by ropes decorated with hanging stones, metals and crystals, he wears a pendant that ends in a carved symbol of a crescent moon with rays. Some of the 'sunrays' on his mask have ropes tied between them holding them in place and some metal dangling. Some red ribbons along with bells hang from his wrists.

“um... Helloooooo.” He greets again, this time he lowers his tone of voice. I manage to react, I turn around and walk away. “¡ah- eh- Wait!” Nope, I'm not going to wait and see what he does with me, I'm leaving. “He-! Hey!” Nope. I quicken my pace and try to get lost among the trees, changing direction every time he appears in my vision angle. “Human? Human-! FRIEND. Can I call you friend?!” Nope, nope, nopnop, nop, nop, nope. “Friend! Hey!” God, no, god, god, no, why are you following me? “Look, I know what you're trying to look for...! And believe me, you're not going to find it~!” How are you still following me? Where do you come from? “Hey! Listen! Why don't we do something else besides running in circles!?” Noooooooooo... “There are TONS of other activities we could do! Like... HOLY MOLY, look at this stick! Do you like sticks!?” Leave me aloneee... “You aren't looking at it! Okay, alright, you don't like sticks, erm... what might be of interest to you...” If I don't look at it it doesn't exist. “Could you help me a little here?” I want to leave... “Look, no matter how much you wander around, you won't find the portal-!”

“STOP—! STOP FOLLOWING ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!” The sudden scream startles him again, making him jump in place. He stands completely still looking at me. I'm leaving before he gets angry.

“B-but I- ...okay.” I thought I heard him say before I left him behind.

It seems that this time he's not following me, finally... Although I'm not calm, he could still be following me and simply not be in sight. Anyway, I think I'm coming back? I hope I am. I want to find that portal as soon as possible and go back to the house- what the fu-? “WHY?”

He's there. Right where I left him. Sitting on a rock. Waiting. “...! I haven't moved from the spot!”

“Yeah- but- WHY?”

“Because I knew you were going to come back here!”

“...What?”

“Is what I was trying to tell you! You can't leave! No matter how hard you try to find the portal, it won't appear before you!” The Sunman exclaimed.

“…” I'm just about to turn around. In fact, I'm already turning around.

“N-No, wait! Please don't go!” I stop in my track and look back at him. He gets off the rock he was sitting on but remains squatting, almost at my height, a little below. I move back, keeping my distance. He puts his hands up. “Look, I'm not doing anything! I won't chase you! Just- ...don't go.”

“…”

“L-look, listen, there's no way it's going to show up! Well, not to you at least. But even if you find it back, it won't work! It only works when it wants to work.”

“...” Let's imagine that I trust what he says “Ok... and when does it want to be working?”

“...” “No idea!”

“...”

I'm about to collapse on the spot. At least he doesn't seem hostile, for now. “...” “Okay... Good... Great...” “...” “FanTAS-tic.”

“...” “You don't seem like it.”

*ಠ_ಠ* I could only look to the side in frustration in response to that. I looked back at him with concern showing on my face and grabbing the strap of my bag with both hands. “And... what... do you plan to do with me?”

He took his hand to the chin of his mask and with the other he held his elbow in a comical thoughtful pose. “MmmmnnDUN know! What do you plan to do?” He asked so nonchalantly. He ended up sitting on the ground crossing his legs. “You have a good while until the portal opens again...!”

“...”

He started swaying. The silence has become uncomfortable for a while now, but I can't organize myself on what to say, and I don't know if I trust him. I don't even know if he's human, although something tells me he's not.

“You could wait here.” He suggested, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Or anywhere else, if you want. I would recommend somewhere high like the treetops (for no particular reason)! If you're going to wait... But wouldn't that be really boring?” There was something in his tone of voice... “Being there... at the top of a tree... waiting... alone... with no friends to hang out with (can I call you a friend?). Aaall on your own until the portal opens again.” He looks aside for a moment “...” And back at me again. “With no one to be with you.” He repeats the head motion “...” “alone...” Wow... I wonder what he's implying, ahem. “Wouldn't you want to have someone...? ...Someone...keeping you company?” Yeah, yeah...

“...” I guess... “I-I guess I wouldn't want to be alon-?”

He rises to his knees. “That's what I thought! Do you want me to accompany you? Only if you want! But can I?” He clasped his hands together as if asking a favor.

“um...”

“Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?” He approaches, dragging his knees on the ground.

I'm starting to miss personal space. “Okay! Okay, alright...”

“REALLY?” He started hopping and jumping around me. “OH, ohoho hO! Great! Oh, there are TONS of things we could do! Like... Like...!” He moves faster, doing bigger and bigger flips and jumps, it almost seems that he is very light, as if the breeze of air lifted him. “We could paint and decorate trees! Or we can also paint on rocks! Or paint leaves! Or paint us! Oh! We can tell stories! I'm very good at making shadows and puppets.” He moves from place to place with each sentence he says. “We can also play something!” It's moving so fast all I can see is the wind and the leaves it stirs up as it moves. “Anything! Whatever you want!” Finally he stopped in front of me half crouched. “What do ya say?! Hmm! Friend!?”

“Don't... call me like that.” Makes me feel awkward.

“Oh...why not-? Oh true, true! How silly, I don't know your name! What do you call yourself, potential friend?”

“...”

“...” “Aren't... you gonna tell me your name?”

I twist the bag strap “Depends...” I must say I'm a little skeptical about this. “Are there any consequences for telling you my name?”

“...Consequences...?”

“Like... I don't know... Mmm-by telling you my name I become your possession and cannot regain my freedom until... certain conditions are met...”

“...”

“Why- how-? Where did you get that from!?” It did sound a bit stupid when I said it out loud.

“I dunno- that's what they say in old children's stories about elves and fairies!” I just hope the embarrassment isn't showing on my face.

“Really?” I could feel his deadpan expression behind the mask.

I shrugged.

“...” “Okay... Oh, what if I tell you my name first? Will you tell me yours? It's only fair, I'm Sun!”

“...”

“Can I know your name now?” He asked expectantly.

“...How do I know you're not trying to trick me?”

“...” I must be driving him crazy with this “The only thing I can do with your name is treasure it in my memory.” He put his hands together as if he was carefully holding something and brought them to the forehead of the mask. I gave him a distrustful look. It doesn't seem like it made him desist “Please?”

I grip at my worn out bag strap “...” “ Fern...” I ended up murmuring.

“Hmm? Fern? OH, I like it!” “Sounds like FRIEND.” He emphasized the last word by making a gesture like jazz hands, leaning to the side and moving his head closer to me.

“Yeah... I think you are missing a couple of letters.”

He straightened his posture again. “Nope, I don't think so!”

“You're still not my friend.”

“Oooowwwwwnnnnnggghhh” He lowers his head dramatically until it practically touches the ground “nnnnnnngggghh, alright!” And cartwheels to stand up again “So... what will it be?”

“Hm?”

He straightened his posture and puts his arms on his hips “We have plenty of time, ya? What do you wanna to do?”

“I don't know, what do you want to do-?” Bad mistake.

“Come with me!”

“aaAAAAA-!” Before I knew it, he had grabbed my arm and I was being dragged through the woods. We visited several places and he offered me an activity to do in each of them.

—

Sun took me to a place where the trees were full of colorful paint “We practice painting on the trees here!” He said.

“Ah.” That explains the crossed out lines and the repeated imperfect shapes. By the look of it is also where he tests the quality of the paint.

“Do you want us to paint something!?”

“Not really...”

“Oh, would you prefer it to be on a rock?”

“Nah.”

“...And in star leaves-?”

“I don't want to paint, Sun.”

“Oh... Well, I can show you more places!”

“OkayyEEEEEE-” And I'm being dragged away again.

—

He brought me to another area of the forest, the ground here seemed more leveled. Not a single tree was straight, all of them were twisted and even seemed to be hollow. “How about playing something!? Like hide and seek-! No, wait, I can’t let you out of my sight.” He mumbled at the end “And chase?! We can climb a tree and see who reaches the top first! We have a place full of vines and it's perfect for swinging- and jumping from one tree to another-!”

“I don't... really want to move a lot…” With the way he runs without getting tired and me, who doesn't exercise... he would let me dead.

“Oh... well, theeen-”

—

We arrived at a place full of vegetation and humidity. Sun seemed quite excited... “This place is full of insects! We can look for cool bugs!”

“Mmmmmnoooo... I don't want to.” I had to tell him, trying to show as little disinterest as I could.

“You don't like them?” He sounded a little disappointed hearing my reaction.

“No, I do like them, some of them, but I don't like to touch them.” And I'm terrified of them flying into my face.

“Oh, well, it's okay!” He said brushing it off and we moved on to the next stop.

—

“I know that bird!” He stopped us on the way to point at a robin high up on a branch.

“ah.” I said as I removed leaves from my hair and clothes, and checked that I still had my glasses.

“He's a little rascal!”

“...” I think the bird is making us the equivalent of 'mooning'.

—

“Look fish-! Oh, they're gone…” The noise must have scared them away “We can go find more places to look at them if you want!”

“...” “...no, pass...”

“…”

—

“Look at this stick!” Sun had suddenly sprinted past me, picked up something from the ground, and came back just as fast, showing me the stick as if it were a sword.

“oh.” It's a cool stick, must admit it.

“Do you want to look for more sticks!?”

“No...”

“oh...” He looked at the ground in disappointment.

“Why would we go looking for sticks? There are all over the ground.” Specifically, in this area the ground was all sticks. We are literally just stepping on sticks right now. I don't see the ground.

“Variety!” Sun said pointing at the ground with both hands. A branch is heard falling in the distance.

—

“That's a deer!” He pointed at the deer passing nearby. The deer stopped to look at us.

“Yeah, I see.”

“We call 'em Adoquín!”

“...Why is it called Adoquí-?”

*THUMP!*

“…”

The deer smacked itself against a tree when trying to run away. It stands still for a minute, processing the hit, looks at a side and then the other, then runs off again but this time avoiding the tree.

Another *thump!* is heard in the distance.

“...” Alright.

—

“Do you wannaaaa look for pine cones? There will be some fallen around here. Oh! We can also look for mushrooms!”

I keep saying no to everything he suggests and it doesn't look like he's going to run out of ideas to pass the time. In fact, he's very insistent that we do something. I guess at some point I'll have to say yes to something. “...” “...okay...”

“Hmm?! Okay? Okay to what?” His exaggerated surprise offends me but I don't blame him.

“To... I don't know, pine cones?”

“...You don't look very convinced.”

“…”

“OKAY! On the hunt for pine cones then!” I startle a little at the sudden shout. He makes a pose pointing in a direction, as if he were leading an expedition.

He takes me through the forest looking for pine cones. We aren't finding many, especially me who's not paying any interest. He tries encouraging me to put more effort into it but I keep looking at my boots.

We passed near a shingle river. I find a pebble at my feet and bend down to pick it up and take a better look. It's like a bluish gray, it has some reddish lines in the shape of waves, it feels good to the touch.

I hear the soft tinkling of a bell and feel a shadow fall beside me. “You like pebbles?” Sun is crouched next to me with his arms full of pine cones.

“…” I nod.

We go down to the river and spend some time collecting pebbles with curious shapes or small details of colors, lines, spots, etc. He comes over to show me one every time he finds weird shapes.

“…”

*rin* This time he's hunched over resting his hands on his knees. “You look… a little down.”

“…”

“Hey... we can do something else if you're tired of the pebbles.”

“...” I drop the pebbles I was looking at on the ground.

“...” He turns his gaze from me to the sky. It hasn't gotten late enough to be getting dark, but it's been a while between the walks we've taken (dragging me from here to there), looking for pine cones and then pebbles in the river. He looks back at me. “Oh, I know! Can I take you to one last place? A better place than the ones I've shown you!”

“…” I got up from the ground and waited for him to start leading to follow him.

We enter the increasingly thick forest. The trees are taller and bigger, in fact, I start to see platforms and bridges lying between the trees, I even see small shanties in them.

“Wait here!” He takes a run and jumps onto one of the trees with bridges. He takes three steps running up the tree, with a jump he pushes himself off and climbs with agility until he reaches the platform and climbs on it. “Just a moment!” It can't be seen from here but I can faintly hear some squeaks. I have no idea of what he's doin-

*rush*

“........eh?”

A rope.

A rope has fallen. At the level of my head.

“.......”

What?

…

He said he knew a better place.

No. It can't be this.

“Is it at a good height?! Can you reach it?!” He says...

It can't be.

A better place.

He can't be referring to this.

A better place.

A better place. A better place. A better place. A better place.

“Can you put your foot in?!”

“..........” For some reason what he said throws me off. “WAT-?”

“Can you put your foot in the loop and hold on to the rope so I can pull you up!?”

“..............”

“You can't climb trees, can you?! ...or you can?"

… “...” Oh “....It's...It's too high!”

“Okay!” Squeaks are heard and the rope descends to the ground.

I put my foot into the rope as he told me and hold on to it. “O-okay...!”

“Are you ready!?”

“Yes!”

“Okay!”

He begins to pull up the rope (which doesn't tighten around my foot as it supports my weight) and helps me up to the platform. (That's what it was for, obviously, what else would he want? I'm such an...) “Come on!” He says cheerfully, as always, and takes me over the bridges. “You seem tense... Don't tell me you're afraid of heights!”

“S-something like that... it's nothing.” He tilts his head at that but he says nothing. I have an unpleasant sensation in my throat.

We arrived at a high place with a view of waterfalls, I can't see above the trees. We sat on one of the bridges, resting our arms on the rope that serves as a railing and letting our legs hang off the bridge. I've thought about taking out the sketchbook to draw... but I don't really feel like it right now, so I just quietly observe the landscape. It is a better place, yeah.

…

I feel watched. I turn to look at him ...Of course he was looking at me. I don't even know whether to say something or keep quiet. ...I decide... not to say anything and look to the front.

“You... aren't very talkative, huh.”

“…”

“Not that it's a bad thing! Many people who have come here weren't very talkative at first either.” More people...

“...” “I have… nothing to talk about.” I don't want to talk.

“...” “Well, I do.”

“…”

“If it's okay with you, of course.” He laughed. Although something tells me that he is going to talk anyway.

“…”

“...” “What brings you to the forest?”

“...” Really? “I got lost.”

“Yeah, I already know!” He says between laughs “But what made you get lost?”

“...” “There was a group of kids I didn't want to get close to and I decided to go into the woods to lose them.” He makes a 'hum' sound and looks at me expectantly waiting for me to continue “And... I ended up getting myself lost...”

“...” “Only that?”

“...” “Well, yeah.” What do you mean 'oNlY tHaT'?

“...Mmm...” He places his hand on the chin of the mask.

“...” “What?”

“Nothing!” “...” “You know? You're the first human to visit the forest in a loooong time. For several cycles now…”

“Cycles?”

“Mhm” He nods.

“...What are cycles?”

Sun points to the sky “The turns that the Moon makes in the sky!” He emphasizes by rotating his arm in the air. It's pointing right at the Moon that's visible in the sky.

“Oh...” He uses the lunar cycles to know what day he's in, makes sense. “...” “So no one has been here in a while.”

“That's what I said! Well no, but yes!”

“A-and so the humans who came are still here? Have they been here all this time?”

“Yeah...! Well, no!” He paused. “They're gone!”

“What do you mean they're-?” He didn't let me finish the question.

“They are gone! They 'left'!” It sounded like he had given this answer many times already.

“What do you mean they left-?”

“They 'left'!”

“...” “...You mean...they disappear-?”

“Nope!” “...” “Something like that!” “…” “Mmmore or less…” He hesitated between one answer and another.

It seemed worthless to ask about the missing people. “...okay.” “Can I ask you-?”

“You can ask me anything!” A hint of nervousness escaped his tone.

“...okay. What is this forest?”

“My home! And the home of many other animals.”

“...” “Alright, and... how many are you...? How many of you live here? I mean. You have taken me everywhere and we haven't seen anyone of your…” I make a pointing gesture, spinning my hand around in the air. He can't be human, it doesn't look like he is. “...” “Honestly, I don't know what you are.”

“...” “There's only me... And someone else!” He looks away, as if trying to hide something.

“Oh... and who's that someone?”

“Oh! N-no, don't worry! He’s… just a friend… But it’s not important that you meet him or anything!” He brushes it off making a gesture with his hand. “Uh-um- How about we talk about you!? huh? What things do you like? Earlier, since you said no to everything, I thought you didn't like ANYTHING!” He continued talking without letting me respond. “I didn't know what to do if I ran out of ideas. I started to worry! But at least you're not one of those who spend all day shouting and threatening with a weapon in hand, ahaha...” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Um-”

“Well, you ran away screaming, yes.” He began to gesticulate widely as he complained “Like everyone-! No, not like everyone, some don't run, but those who, apart from running and screaming, attack you...! I mean...!” Something tells me he wasn't going to shut up and I was already half listening. “First they throw rocks at my head, then they insult me and run away. And I have to run after them because I can't just leave a human running around alone! No! I can't! Not in this forest! Anything could happen to them! But they never let me warn them!” He sounded tired. “And when I get them to stop running away from me, they throw things at me again and yell before demanding me to tell them where are they and how to get out of here, and when I explain it, they yell at me even more and accuse me of lying!” He turns to look at me with his hands pointing to his chest. “What reason would I have to lie?!” I don't know if he hasn't noticed or if he's ignoring the deapan I responded with. “UGH! I don't know what to do with those! But anyhow... I'm so glad we found something to do in the end!

“eh?” I snap out of my thoughts. It seems that now he is directing the conversation to me.

“The pebbles!” He sits turning his body towards me, leaving one single leg hanging from the bridge and the other resting on it. He takes out of his pocket some of the pebbles that he had been collecting with me. “I don't know why I assumed you wouldn't want to look for rocks. Maybe because you didn't want to paint them before... You left them back in the river in the end tho, I thought you would keep some.”

“Ah... I don't know. I didn't think I could take them with me.”

“You can keep some of mine!”

“No, it's okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You suuuuure??” He insist.

“Yeees.”

He puts a pebble very close to my face “Suuuuuuuure?” Each 'u' sounding higher than the last.

“...” I push the pebble away from my face “Yeeeees.”

“mmmh... Okay! But I hope you don't regret it later when you don't have a cool rock like these and think 'Oh man, I could have a cool rock right now!'.” After a bad impression of me, he keeps the rocks in his pants. “So... Besides pebbles, what else do you like? Mm? I haven't been able to deduce much from today.”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know!? Oh! Is it a secret?” He approaches and starts to whisper, putting his hands to the mask's mouth “I won't tell anyone, promise.”

“No. I don't know.” I looked to the side. “I can't think of anything... so suddenly.”

“ooow...” He slumps a little over the railing, looking sad.

“…” I hesitate whether to say something or not “...Drawing...”

“Mmm?!” He no longer seems sad.

“And listening to music, I guess.” “It's... all I do... most of the time.”

“Really!? Oh! I also like drawing! And music! But is that really all you do all day? Don't you do other kinds of things? Like reading! Or writting. Don't you go out for a walk or play with your friends?” I wrinkle my face at that last bit and he tilts his head in confusion.

“I don't go out.” “I have comics, but I rarely read.”

“Comics?”

“Um... They are stories but instead of narrating what happens there are drawings and only what the characters say is written.”

“...It's a book with drawings?”

“Yeah, but with a lot of drawings on each page, from start to finish.”

“WOAH.” He sounded perplexed. “That's drawing A LOT.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Ahh, I'd love to see what they look like.” He rested his arm on the railing to hold his head in his hand “Too bad I can't…”

“I didn't bring them anyway.”

“Do you normally carry them around?”

“No, it's just that I didn't bring them to the village with me, I left them at home.”

“...” “Oh!” It seems that something has clicked on him. “You are not from the village.”

“No, I'm from a more urban area. My family used to come to the village every year in the summer, but we stopped coming. Now it seems that we are trying to get back into the habit.” I sighed.

“Why did you stop coming?”

“...That's personal.”

“Oh... okay.” He let a minute of awkward silence pass. “Hey, I can bring some books that I have at home! I think you might be interes-!” He looks away from me to the sunset behind us, the sun is almost gone. “-ted...” I look at the sunset too and then at him with confusion. “...” “...oh...oh-OH, Oh-no!” He stands up abruptly causing the bridge to shake slightly. What could have he seen? “We have to move!” He extends a hand to help me up. “We have to start moving!”

I get up in a hurry on my own, ignoring his hand. “O-okay, to where?”

“Come, run!” Once again he grabs me by the arm and leads me over the bridges between the trees until we reach a tree hut. It's small and dark, it looks like a small shelter. He opens the door and enters “You'll spend the night here, stay inside, do not go out, try to hide well and don't open the windows or doors, okay? Here, there are some blankets. I'll come back later.”

“Wait wait wait! What? What do you mean you'll come back later? What's happening? Why do I have to hide-!?”

“Sssh-ssh-sh” He grabs me and covers my hand with his, his left hand resting on the back of my right hand. He begins to speak in a calmer tone, with a voice that I had not heard him use until now. “It's okay, nothing happens. I have to go, I'll come back, but I can't stay now. You hide, try to rest, I'll be back, I promise.”

“...” I take my hand away from his. “Okay.” “I'll stay, but don't take too long.” Please, I don't want to be here alone.

“Yes. I'll be back.” He affirmed one last time. I watch him run away and disappear among the trees and undergrowth. I enter the small shelter to inspect it.

*TAP TAP TAP* *PLOK* *TAP TAP FOOSSSH! *

…? A noise comes from behind me. I turn around and there's a pebble on the floor.

…

Okay.

I take out my phones flashlight to see better inside the house. There are what appear to be some trunks, small cabinets, and a trapdoor in the floor, It seems that there are corners and blind spots for the windows where the little moonlight that enters through the cracks cannot reach. It's freezing cold and I haven't brought my jacket. I leave the bag on the floor against the wall, I cover myself with the blanket and curl up in a ball in the most hidden corner I can find. I'm tired, I want to sleep, but I can't close my eyes.

…

—

It's been a few hours now.

…

I can't sleep, I simply can't.

…

It doesn't look like he's coming back.

*creek*

…?

*rin*

*tap tap, creek*

Sun?

“S-...” I pause before saying a word, I have the feeling I shouldn't speak. I remain silent and wait.

*tap, tap, tap, creeeeeek, tap*

*rin dirrin*

If it were Sun he would have already let me know it is him. That or he's playing a prank on me which isn't funny, but I'd better stay silent. From the shadow I look at the windows. I notice movement through the cracks, something has just passed through the wall next to me.

*dirriring dirring*

I cover myself more with the blanket, back against the wall, I stay as still as I can, I leave a gap between the blankets and the floor to see. A red glow sneaks through the cracks in the window and scans the room.

…

The glow is gone.

*tap, tap, rin, tap, dirring, tap, tap*

It's on the roof.

…

*tap, tap, tap...*

It moves again.

*rin *

…

It sounded on the other side of the wall.

…

“nghehe...”

It laughed. Why did it laugh? Whatever is on the other side of the wall just let out a laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck and all over my back rise.

…

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no no.

I have to move. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here.

*creeek*

It came from the door. It's trying to get in.

*rin*

The trapdoor.

*rin dirring*

Where was the trapdoor?

*creek creeeek*

I crawl across the floor making the minimum noise, carefully feeling the floor, looking for the edge of the door.

*tap tap ring dirring*

…!

I found it. I open it carefully. It's too high. I'm at a very high altitude, I don't know if I'll be able to go down.

*rin, creeek...*

…

Fuck it. I slip through the gap quietly, closing it slowly, but that doesn't stop the door from creaking. I cling to the bark of the tree-

…

I left my bag. If it comes in and see it it'll know for sure that I have been there-

…

It doesn't matter now. I have to focus on getting down from the tree without killing myself. My fingers hurt and I can't put my foot down properly because of the soles of my boots. I feel like I'm going to slip at any moment. Somehow I make it to the ground. Still attached to the tree, I look up at the house. I don't see it-

…

A shadow appears from behind the tree. I press myself against the tree and hold my breath. It's looking for something. When he doesn't seem to look I move to a nearby tree, he moves to another tree, I move to the next, and the next, and the next. We continue like this until I start to get further and further away from him. When I think I've lost him I start running. I hide behind a tree to catch my breath.

…

I slowly peek out from behind the tree.

*rin*

…

It sounded above me.

…

I don't look up, I run.

“nnghehee...” He laughs.

He gives me a few seconds advantage before coming after me. The chase begins.

I run forward as much as I can, I hear his footsteps behind me but I don't look back, there's no time for that. I hear him laughing like a madman as he moves from left to right, from one tree to another, crawling on the ground, trying to confuse me, waiting for me to make the slightest mistake to catch me.

“Ah-” I trip. As soon as I fall to the ground I get up, ripping my stockings and scraping my knees, falling again, my nerves not letting me stand up.

“Nnhehehhehe...” Asshole. He has stopped running, he approaches by walking. I try to keep as much distance as my hands and legs allow me to move. I search desperately with my hand for something on the ground to throw. Finally my hand finds something.

I throw a rock at him “AGH!”

The rock passes by him, flying one or two meters away from him. He hasn't even moved, he didn't move a single muscle to avoid it, he just watches me still from where he is. I hear the nearby *pof* of the rock falling to the ground.

“...”

…

I get up and run. He grabs my leg and I fall to the ground again. He won't let me get up, every time I try he throws me to the ground. I struggle, I kick, but I don't break free from his grip. He never stops laughing, he is enjoying this. He drags me closer to him, no matter how much I twists, he doesn't let go. “ACKH-!...Hhhh-hh...-hh-h...” He grabs me by the neck, red pupils stared at me, I'm looking straight into his crescent moon mask (or waning, I don't know. Do you think I care right now?). He raises his free hand and his veins begin to glow a platinum color that extends to his fingertips. The hand approaches my face, I don't know what it's going to do to me, I'm scared, I don't want to look. I close my eyes, cover my face with my hands. I wait.

…

…?

Nothing's happening. It stopped. Why?

“Mun, nïe.” I hear Sun's voice. I open my hands a little to see what's going on. Indeed, it is Sun, several meters away from us... He looks exhausted. The one with the moon mask stares at him for a moment, until he decides to look at me again while bringing his glowing veiny hand closer. “¡Mun!” The Moonman looks at Sun again “Fehreh.” He seems to speak another language, I don't understand what he says.

“...” “Nïe” For the first time I hear him say something else besides laughing. Even though I can't understand him.

“Fïer pehgïer.” Sun responds.

“...” Moonman remains silent again.

“Bïelïe óubseh góuh...” Sun continues.

“Móu txehb móunsuvïe.” The Moon responds.

“Lïe bóu ¿Sóundïe mïesugïeb fehreh nïe txehtehrlïe?”

…

The air feels tense. Probably because of the hand grabbing my neck.

“¿Zkaóu fuóunbehb txehtóur tkaehnvïe nïe bóueh mehb zkaóu ïesreh rehuh óunsóurrehveh óun leh suóurreh?” Longest sentence I've heard him say so far.

“...” “Fïer óubseh góuh.” “...” “Vóuyehmóu óuntehrdehrmóu vóu óulleh” Sun takes a step forward “Nïe suóunóu fïer zkaóu ehtehkehr ehbu” Another step forward “Nïe sóunóumïeb fïer zkaóu txehtóurlóub... óubsïe” Another step “Óullïeb bïelïe óubsehn... fóurvuvïeb.”

“...” There's no response from the moon man.

“Behkehb tïemïe óub óubïe.”

“...”

…

The hand that grabbed my neck now grabs my shirt and yanks it. I grab his wrist as he pulls me to my feet and drags me to Sun, making me stumble. He throws me against him. Sun catches me before I fall over.

“Ska óubpkaóurhïe óub óun gehnïe.” The moon says something as he walks past. Sun puts a hand on his shoulder before letting him go, there's a pause between the two. The Moonman disappears into the trees. Wind and leaves are heard passing by.

…

He's gone. I feel dizzy. I fall down.

—

…

A faint light begins to seep through the cracks, illuminating enough to wake me up and make me open my eyes, I look around. I see my bag propped against the wall. I'm at the shelter where Sun left me.

…

My body aches, I have a hard time keeping my eyes open, it feels like I've been sleeping on the hard floor. No, wait, there are some blankets underneath me... It's still too hard to sleep well, either that or as I said, it shouldn't help me at all that everything hurts. After a while of staring at the ceiling I try to sit up. I emphasize trying. With every slight effort a pained moan escapes me.

“Oof...” Hurts.

*creek, tap tap tap tap*

Those wood creaks bring back bad memories from last night (which by the way, I'm alive, wow, I just realized), I can't help but cringe at every noise, I hear footsteps approaching, I try to move but the stinging pain prevents me from it.

*creek... *

The door opens.

Triangular shapes appear through the door followed by orange earth tones. “…Oh…!” “Early bird!” Thank god it's Sun and not the other one, or something worse “I didn't expect you up this early!” He says laughingly.

“ah?”

“How are you feeling?” He walks in. When he sets foot inside I lean back, towards the wall. “...” I don't really know why I did that. Sun stands at the door showing confusion with his usual head tilt. “...Arrr...re you okay, Fern?”

“...” I became tense suddenly. I really don't know still if I can trust him? He hasn't done anything to me yet but that doesn't mean that I can trust him. I don't know if he plans to do something with me like whatever that other one, the moon one, was going to do last night. “...ehh...hhh...h...” I can't get a word out, I'm afraid to ask.

“Mm?”

“...” I don't know what to say to him. My eyes go somewhere else.

…

He enters further into the house, ignoring that I keep my distance from him, leaves a bag he was carrying on the floor and begins to open the windows, letting in the little light of the dawn that is just beginning. He kneels on the floor in front of me with the bag. “Are you hungry?” He opens the bag and takes out an apple “Do you like apples?”

“...”

“No?”

“...”

“Um... I also brought berries... (It's what I had on hand coming here) There are... different types, you can choose” He brings the bag closer to me. I move further away. “uhhh...”

“...” I want to leave.

“You don't like them either...?”

“...” I don't want to eat. I want to leave.

“...”

“*snif... *”

“u-um...!”

“...*snif* *sob*...” I started crying out of nowhere.

“Ahhh...! D-do- don't cry! Ah-I-Um- Ca-can go find other things you might like-!”

I felt ashamed for crying and I put my hands to my face trying to wipe away the tears, but they wouldn't stop coming. “*hic, sniff, snif *” I looked away in an attempt to cover my face. I ended up looking at the floor, letting my hair act as a curtain.

“I can go in a moment!” Sun was already getting up.

“...w-want to leave...” I managed to get a murmur out.

“...W-what? Um...”

“...” *hic, hic *

“O-okay, um... If you aren't hungry... -we can do something else- uh- we can go look for rocks like yesterday in the river!”

“...” I don't want to do anything “...want to leave...”

“O-or we can do something else! Ah-bah-b-b-b- W-won't you like to go draw??! Somewhere, some landscape?! Wherever you want! We can draw together! If you prefer we can look for animals instead of landscapes!”

“...leave...want to...go... *hic, snif *”

“¡D-don't n- uh! ¡L-let's... um- let's not- uh!” He no longer knew how to order his words “H-hey, ¿Why don't we go to-?” He extends his hand towards my arm.

“I want to go home...”

He stops before touching me and removes his hand. “...” “...home?” There is a pause. He remains silent and unmoving. He finally speaks “Do you want…?” His tone became more serious.

“...”

“...to... go see the portal?” I look up slightly, I can't see through the tears and the fogged lenses of my glasses.

“...” I nod my head.

—

…

We didn't walk far until the red began to become visible. He brought me back to the portal. The same plain of red leaves and stone arch in the center of it all, as yesterday.

…

Sun has been quiet the entire time.

He advances towards the portal and stands facing it. He turns. “Come.” He extends his hand towards me. “You can pass through.”

“...”

I advance towards the portal. I stop before crossing. If it doesn't take me back home, what do I do? I don't want to stay.

A breeze begins to come out of the portal. The breeze turns to wind, the leaves rise, they pass through us. It's the same thing that happened yesterday when I went to cross. I turn to face Sun. Motionless, he looks back at me, the leaves pause in the air for a second as if time has stopped, the wind changes. From where the wind and leaves came now they come in, they push me towards the portal. I finally cross it.

…

Am I in the forest I know? I turn to look at Sun who stayed behind in the portal. “...Sun?” He's not there. I look around. He's not here. I've already crossed the portal, he must have left.

I notice a sudden draft pass by me. It's soft, like someone walking past you. I turn towards the forest, I have to start moving, I don't want to be here another minute.

...The air current that I noticed has lifted some leaves, they reach the trees, between them the wind does something strange, it forms a transparent silhouette. It looks like Sun, I can barely see him but I could swear it's him. The wind figure raises its hand and makes a gesture, it wants me to follow it. When I approach it turns around and walks into the forest, leaving a trail of leaves behind it. I follow the trail of the air current. Sometimes it stops to look at me, making sure I'm still following it. The red-leafed trees and the paintings disappear from view the farther we go. We crossed the forest until we arrived at the entrance of the town, near my house. There is no one on the street. If I walked into the house and pretended nothing had happened, officially no one would have noticed my absence.

I'm not one hundred percent sure if the wind figure that guided me is Sun or not, but I should at least thank him for bringing me back.

…

The air current has dissipated before I turn around. I look around, there's no one.

…

I enter the house, go up to my room and throw the bag on the floor. I go to the bathroom to wash. …I feel something strange in my hands but I couldn't say what. Doesn't matter. I change my clothes and get into bed, the tiredness of the previous night makes my body succumb immediately and I fall asleep instantly.

—

…

“ah...!” I wake up with my lungs begging for air. I need a moment to calm my breathing. I look at the clock without lifting my head from the pillow.

…

It is 12 midday. I rub my eyes and from my eyes I move to my face. I'm still tired. My body still aches. I stare at the ceiling.

…

My bag. I reach out to pick it up from the floor, making strange positions so as not to get out of bed.

I open it and search in the pockets. The bell. I put the bell to my ear. “...” I shake it.

*rin, diring diring*

“...”

I open it.

…

It's empty.

#my writing #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fanfic #forest elves au #the forest on the other side #oc #selfinsert #platonic #sun & selfinsert #moon & selfinsert #dca au

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daisyswift3 · 4 months

Text

Cardiac Arrest, CPR, and the Reticent Volcano 🌋🎁

So yesterday I made a very interesting discovery while watching the TTPD (track) lyric vid that led to me having several epiphanies at once. If you watch the vid, you'll notice that for the most part the lyrics are in all caps save for a few lines. Of these lines, one in particular, “like a tattooed Golden Retriever,” caught my attention bc it has 2 capital letters--G and R--that you wouldn't have been able to see if the line was in all caps like the ones just before it. What makes it more interesting is that golden retriever is not a proper noun like a name or title so it shouldn't be capitalized according to English grammar rules.

This led me to search for the TTPD album booklet scans to see if this was also capitalized in the booklet and to see what other words were capitalized. Then after looking at the booklet it hit me--CPR(G)!!! Charlie Puth Retriever Golden. Everyone agreed these lyrics sounded a little odd compared to the rest of her lyrics and the shout out to Charlie Puth seemed kind of random. But now it makes complete sense why she wrote those lyrics. She was trying to draw attention to the capital letters CPR(G) that are repeated throughout the album. In this post I explained that Taylor mentions CPR in So Long, London bc they're all related to each other, they're a family. C=Cassandra=Taylor; P=Peter=her 2nd kid; R=Robin=her 1st kid; G=Gold/Golden=Karlie. If you look at the TTPD tracklist, Cassandra, Peter, and Robin are in the same order as CPR.

Taylor wanted to acknowledge her family in some way on this album and so she represented them w these 4 letters which are likely a stand-in for the Swift-Kloss family crest since I don't believe that showed up on this album. This is the key to deciphering several of the anon messages and understanding why some things are lowercase while other things are capitalized. For example, all of the volcano 🌋anon messages and the last 2 messages from (PR)esent anon 🎁 are lowercase with the exception of the words "Gold" and "Goodbye." This connects these messages to TTPD (track). "Gold" is highlighted like "volcano" to indicate that Miss Gold Rush is going to be a part of the atomic bomb Taylor is getting ready to drop. And the "Goodbye" being capitalized indicates that Karlie is indeed the "neighbor" in this message and in Fortnight as well as "the woman who sits by the window" in Peter that turns out the light/lamp. She is the one who keeps a lit jack-o-lantern 🎃 on the front porch while awaiting Taylor's return home from exile. These things single-handedly prove that 🌋 and present 🎁 anon are indeed legit bc how would a troll have been able to predict these things when The Anthology tracks were surprise dropped at 2am and weren't revealed w the standard edition tracks on Feb 5, and why would a troll even bother w such subtle details?? Plus no lyrics had leaked yet at the time these messages were sent so the only logical answer is that they must've either been sent by Taylor or someone close to her.

Side note: When I first wrote that post analyzing the present 🎁 anon messages, I had thought that the song Robin, and maybe Peter as well, was the gift/present to us kaylors that present 🎁 anon told us to look out for since P's and R's are repeated in the messages. However, I have since figured out that actually the poetry book For now, she slumbers was likely the gift since present 🎁 anon's messages mention the title of the book "for now, she slumbers" and "reticent volcano" which is the author's name as an anagram (see this post). Plus the March 4 message directly quotes the first poem in For now, she slumbers called "Two" ✌️ (If you want to read all the poems in order see this post). I explain in this post that the reason why this poem is the first one in the book is bc it's the key to understanding all the ones that follow and to understanding TTPD. The 2 ✌️ is probably the most important motif in TTPD bc it symbolizes the 2 different versions of Taylor and 2 opposing narratives abt her life that exist. Taylor Swift the brand vs Taylor Swift the person; the boy-crazy maneater that only writes songs abt her ex-boyfriends vs the tortured closeted queer poet that is forced to hide her truth behind metaphors and red herrings. Going back to the CPR of it all, I still believe my initial analysis of the present 🎁 anon messages was correct for the most part since the "reticent volcano" is likely a tell-all memoir that will explain the whole messy story and how and why she kept her family (CPRG) a secret. The purpose of the 🎁 and 🌋 anon messages was to guide us to both the poetry book and to CPR(G) which both foreshadow what her memoir--that she's hinted at w The Manuscript and The Story of Us--is going to be abt.

Now continuing on w the theory, as I mentioned previously, we have Cassandra=Taylor, Peter=her 2nd kid, and Robin=her 1st kid. And if you look at the pg in the booklet w The Manuscript, you'll see that there is a capital G in "Good Samaritan" which completes the CPRG set and is also the only capital G that shows up in this song.

And to tie it all together, if you look at the summary poem/epilogue at the very end, Taylor mentions cardiac arrest. This happens when someone's heart suddenly stops functioning and can be reversed by CPR! "I stopped CPR after all it's no use, the spirit was gone we would never come to." And this connects to You're Losing Me (From the Vault) which is abt the fans not seeing the real her or paying attention to her repeated queer signaling -> "I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore for you, 'cause you're losing me." Taylor has given up trying to get her fans to listen to her (CPR) and has accepted that she may lose a lot of them when she reveals everything (CPRG). She is warning them that they are abt to lose the Taylor that they know, the old Taylor, bc she is going to have to kill her public persona and brand in order to be reborn as the new version of herself and move onto the next chapter of her life.

And to add even more evidence to this theory, CPR is often performed on drowning victims, and where does drowning show up in TTPD? Oh it shows up in The Bolter which just so happens to be sandwiched in between Cassandra, Peter, and Robin! -> "By all accounts, she almost drowned when she was 6 in frigid water...And she liked the way it tastes, taming a bear, making him care, watching him jump then pulling him under...as she was leaving, it felt like breathing/freedom" // "When I was drowning that's when I could finally breathe." Drowning also shows up in Guilty as Sin which I've determined probably represents the acceptance stage of grief so the drowning metaphor checks out (see this post) -> "Drowning in the Blue Nile, he sent me 'Downtown Lights.'" (Also check out this amazing video which explains the Blue Nile and religious connections). This connects to the 8th 🎃 message where Taylor chooses to jump into shark infested waters and sacrifice her image and brand so that her lover doesn't have to. So putting all these pieces together, this means that by giving up on trying to revive her relationship w her fans or to maintain her image (CPR) and by putting her family and her happiness first (CPRG), Taylor will finally be able to be truly free. She is going to let Taylor Swift the brand drown so that she can finally breathe. This connects to The Black Dog where she compares the red herrings/bearding/lavender haze/smokescreen to an old habit like smoking that she's trying to quit -> "6 weeks of breathing clean air, I still miss the smoke."

Now w all this context in mind, it makes more sense why Taylor has been emphasizing capital and lowercase letters and the number 4 recently. The hidden word hunt on Apple Music, thanK you aIMee, imgonnagetyouback, her retweets from 4/21/23-4/24/23 which happened in groups of 4, putting 4 letter words in all caps, etc. And now it's clear that "I keep these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault" is most likely referring to her explosive tell-all memoir, the reticent volcano, she's going to publish since 🌋 anon's messages were all in lowercase. "Restful, reticent, restraint" = locked inside a vault. Rep tv and the folklore and evermore vault tracks may also be included in this since these albums are in lowercase as well.

In conclusion, I think it is safe to say now that all of these anons are probably legit. In my opinion, all of these connections provide concrete evidence that these anons do foreshadow things and have ties to Taylor.

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haruchi-slit · 10 months

Text

WHEN HE GO LOW, I GO LOWER!!

synopsis⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾:

You saw Satoru making out with a girl in the club and as your revenge you slept with his three friends :)

a/n: DONT MIND THE TITLE IDK WHAT TO NAME THIS BLOG I'M SORRY! Our wifi broke so i wrote this cause i was bored. I'm risking my digital footprint and my dignity (am i?) i personally think this is kind of cringe? cause of the pet names and detailed smuts i was literally laughing while writing this idk if i cooked this shit up or burnt it lmaoo

Warnings!!

Toji, Ryomen and Suguru are, like..26-29 in here..and Satoru is a very,very,very red flag boyfriend here if you're not good with that then shoo away. Grammmatical errors, typographical errors mdni, foursome, raw sex, use of rose toy, fingering, fisting, degrading, praisin, anal, etc.

"Have you seen Satoru's latest post?dang, so you gonna let him hook up with other girls?" Suguru clicked his tongue "tsk, he's a womanizer, you deserve better Y/n" he added as he shoved his phone to you.

"He said he'd change, so c'mon people change don't they?" you chuckled, and slightly tapped Suguru's phone away.

"eee, whatever you say, but don't come crying to us hon..we've already warned you." Ryomen snickered

"Stop with the yadayada and finish this f'me?" you rolled your eyes "besides he's going to take me on a date tonight."

"You're fucking delusional, sweetie" Toji said as he appeared out of nowhere,

"And you fucking scared me" Suguru laughed out.

"Whatever, im going home gonna get ready for me and m'love's date.."

"Yeah, sure whatever just come to us if he fucks up mhm?" Toji chuckled

"i don't care, I'm sure he won't fuck up tho" you responded and bid them goodbye.

You drove back to your house, unlocked your front door and got inside, it's already eight in the evening and Satoru said he'll pick you up at nine, you took a shower, dried your hair, did your hair just how he likes it, did your make up

in the best way possible, you wore your dark blue dress that compliments every curve and dips on your body. It's been a long time since the two of you dated and it's understandable with all the side chicks he's got, you still forgave him after all the things he has done to you. you prepared your bag, you put your lipstick, your card, your keys and of course your rose toy and also a condom in case the two of you get freaky and shit, while doing your make up you got a message from Satoru.

'Toru💙

-Something came up, can we move our date next week?

You hesitated to respond..but as a understanding girlfriend, you agreed of course you would, but because you already have your look and everything you decided to phone Shoko, and asked her to come over and go to the new club..and of course as the best girl, she agreed to come with you.

"Yeahh, im down this week had been fucking rough..i need to let out some steam eventually." she said

"yess, perfect be here at 10 I'll wait for you" you responded.

as you wait for her you scrolled thru your phone while eating the pineapples you cutted earlier cause you thought you and Satoru will have a blast tonight but he, as the damned boyfriend he is, he cancelled it and didn't even told you what "came up" while eating and scrolling on your phone for a while, you heard someone knocked on your door and you knew it was Shoko so you came rushing down to your hall and opened the door,

"Heyy, y/nnn~~" Shoko greets you with a warm smile, as you responded with a hug, "Shall we go now?" you asked "Of course!" she said. The two of you went to the club and wow, literally wow, very fucking ironic.

You saw Satoru in the club, making out with some chicks,

he's so fucked up now.

Shoko saw Satoru and marched towards him and gave him a very hard blow on his stomach, causing him to choke on his saliva.

"Fuck you, and fuck your sidechicks!" She then snatched a random man's drink and spilled it right on top of Satoru's and the girl's head,that left Satoru speechless. When she came back to you she noticed that you were no where to be seen, "Poor woman.." she sighed and tried to find you in the huge crowd in the club but she couldn't spot where you are. As for you, you we're rushing, running away far from the scene, too overwhelmed to stop from running thousands and thousands of thoughts in your mind,

"am I not good enough?, am I ugly?, am l replaceable?-" you snapped back into reality when you bumped into someone,

"Watch where you're going!" the man said, "Oh my god, I'm sorry!" you bowed down and ran to the nearest park.You sat down on the bench and called Ryomen.

"Ryomen, can you pick me up?, it's so loney out here" you sobbed,

"You guys are right he fucked up." you added.

"Aww~, turn on your location I'll pick you up we'll help you relieve your loneliness" Ryomen responded in the other line of the phone.

((⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠))

"Ah - i think it won't fit!", You jolted as you tried to fit you fist up to your ass,

"it'll fit hon, keep doing it..how'll you going to handle our dicks?" Toji whispered to your ear before he kissed your forehead. You nodded as you tried to relax your body, you drew your hand to your mouth to lubricate your hand so it'll be easier for you fist to glide thru,

"Good girl, keep doing it baby" Geto gave you a smug smirk as he tweaks your nipples, sucking it occasionally while he presses your rose toy deeper into your clit. Ryomen tucked your loose hair behind your ear. You bit your lower lips, "P- Please" you blurted out.

"Finish your words woman." Suguru sternly responded. "Please- hah!" you were cutted off when Suguru bit you left nipple,

"Please what, woman?"

"H-help me relieve my loneliness, by your c-cocks" you babbled.

"Should we comply to this poor woman's plea?" He asked, Toji and Ryomen, the two men gave you a teasing smirk, Toji lifted you up and laid you flat on your chest, on top of Ryomen facing his cock as he faces your pussy, "ass up" Toji said which you senselessly obeyed, he snapped his hips into your anal hole "mhmm!-" you jolted as he slowly picked up a pace, on the other hand, Ryomen is currently eating you out, spitting at your pussy only for him to suck his saliva back in his mouth, using his hand he spread your folds like damn book and thrusts his godly amazing tongue, he paused

"Honey, do you mind pleasing me?" you shook your head countless times due to the pleasure Ryomen and Toji is inflicting you.

You carefully guided your mouth to his cock

sucking it, gawking it up and down. Ryomen

chuckled sending vibrations to your clit , causing you to arch your back even more, you were a moaning mess, saliva drooling from your mouth, Suguru walked up infront of you

"Can you smile for the camera baby?, sending this to Satoru..gonna show him what he's missing", you paused from sucking Ryomen and looked up to the camera with your beautiful doe eyes and smiled widely, Suguru grabbed your hands and placed it to his cock which you understood and gave him a rub, he paused the recording and placed the phone down, sinful groans, moans and squelching sound filled Suguru's Condo "Sit up baby" Ryomen ordered, Toji pulled out and helped you sit up, you can barely feel your legs, you sat on top of Ryomen he slides his dick in your ass, as Suguru stood between your legs Suguru gave himself a few pumps before putting it in your pussy you loudly groaned "A-ahhgh!" Toji positioned himself beside you and grabbed your head onto his cock giving himself a deep throat, you can feel them twitching you knew that they were close as your pussy runs like waterfalls, spasming and squelching around their cocks. Make up completely ruined, Suguru grabbed his phone again and continued recording,

"B-baby,hngh-! look at the camera...Who's better, us or S-satoru?" you heard him asked as you struggled to babble and spit an answer due to the immense pleasure, "hgh-ah y-y-" you struggled "hmm?" he hummed teasing you. "YOU!" you spat "that's my girl" he smirked "All, a-all of you!" you added, "atta girl" Ryomen said as he quickened his pace, your tits, bouncing uncontrollably, you prepared your hips for your release,you were so close,

"Are you breaking up with him?" Ryomen asked

"Yes, ughh!"

"fuck" Suguru groaned, as he released thick white rope in you, painting your walls white,Ryomen also came after a few seconds, same as Toji.

"You heard her, she's breaking up with you." Toji chuckled as Suguru ended the recording, afterwards he sent it to Satoru.

Ryomen and Suguru pulled their dicks out of you, your pussy completely puffed,red and full of semen, Suguru focused the camera on your cunt that's currently oozing with tons of semen he spread out your folds and focused it on your entrance, clenching and spasming around nothing.

a/n: this took me 8 days to finish, I was procrastinating lmfaoo bye see ya!!🪼

#ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #geto x reader #suguru smut #toji fushiguro #toji smut #four #some #jjk #jjk smut #lol

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sl33paholics · 4 months

Note

Hello, You really surprised me with how detailed you wrote about this fandom. This is something really wow.You are the third person I found on this Tumblr. If requests are still open, can I request about Jotaro, Polnareff and Josuke With a fem s/o reader who is very sexy but innocent and cute (like Bimbo) only she doesn't realize that many people like her. Please~ a little bit nsfw maybe ( It's up to you )

Love love from me to you

Keep Your Eyes In A Different Direction

The JoJos x bimbo!fem!reader

Characters include: Jotaro (p3), Polnareff (p3), and Josuke (p4)

Warning(s): slight nsfw (mentions of female body partz)

Josuke Higashikata

Sometimes, Josuke wonders how he ever bagged you.

I mean, look at you! Such a beautiful body, such a perfect ass. And those cheekbones…as if you were birthed to be the next top super-model in history. Those legs, though, are probably the most sinful things he's ever seen. And your skin…whenever touching it, it's smooth like silk.

It's difficult. It's difficult for Josuke to control the looming perverted eyes of his fellow male classmates at school and those drunk old-heads whenever you two are hanging out after school. It's hard not to think about what would happen if he could get you alone somewhere and take off all that gorgeous clothing. If he could lick the gloss from your lips and feel the softness of your skin beneath him. If he could kiss every inch of your body and feel every one of yours shudder with pleasure under his hands.

Josuke knows you have a reputation at school, just like him, so many admirers wanting to be your boyfriend or some other crazy shit like that. You're popular, and that makes you even more desirable. Even more of an object of desire. And yet, they couldn't. They boys know you two are together. A couple. Officially. But still, they can never bring themselves to do anything but stare at you while you walk across campus.

You're such a fucking tease. How dare you smile at every boy who looks at you in such a way? How could you possibly engage in conversation with boys whose obviously making moves on you and mistake it for a friendly interaction, only for Josuke to grab you by the wrist and pull you away. The worst part is that you don't see anything wrong with what the boys are constantly gawking and staring at you like a zoo animal, if he had the balls to do it, he would make-out in front of them to get his message across.

Although you may be a bit on the ditzy side, he still adores you. Josuke would do literally anything for you. Anything at all. Including getting caught up in some dumbass drama with the guys at school, trying to prove they won't get their hands on you, just so Josuke can get your attention.

Jotaro Kujo

You're his EVERYTHING.

After that long journey from Egypt, the man became a whole new person. As if he wasn't already before after being released from jail.

He needs your undivided attention all the time. Jotaro would never show any weakness in front of you or anybody for that matter, but for him to just squeeze you in an embrace when nobody was looking is something very intimate. Jotaro's just not like that with everyone else who can't handle your touch, but with you, he has nothing to hide. And it is so precious to see him open up, tell you everything about himself and everything. It's as if he's been holding it back since the start.

Jotaro wants to squeeze your big ole thighs every time he hugs you. He wants to bury his face in your neck and sighs happily into it. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek lovingly while his other arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer. Jotaro looks at you with a gaze as soft as the clouds. Hence, when returning to school, Jotaro has been more snappy than ever. Don't get it twisted. No one has DARED to ever approach you once it became known to everyone in the building that you and Jotaro were dating before sudden unfortunate events that had him away for days. He noticed that the boys suddenly got an ego boost. Everyone just assumed that the two of you "broke up" now those simps were getting all lovey dovey towards you.

Instead of telling them off, Jotaro was dumbfounded and reasonably upset when you would engage back with the boys with a teasing tone, a tone that you probably didn't know that was feeding into their egos. All it took for Jotaro was to stand behind you and look down at those boys with murderous intent before they would run off, scuttling like frightened rats.

Jotaro isn't too fond of showing PDA but he would definitely squeeze your ass to get how he's feeling about you to anyone point blank clear as day, and to remind you of your place when it comes to him.

It's no secret that Jotaro has a hard time expressing himself. With someone like yourself, you can easily understand that. You both have different personalities, so you might find yourself constantly struggling to make sense of what Jotaro wants. Jotaro's a complex guy, but he loves you anyway. Someone as pure and gorgeous like yourself, he's always going to protect you like his life depends on it.

Jean Pierre-Polnareff

The connection between you two is strong.

Considering the traumatic 50 day trip he had to endure, getting revenge on his sister, and being able to survive, you were like a new breath of fresh air that man even needed.

Both of you are romantic. Sexy. Outstandingly outgoing. As if it was fate that pulled you two together for you guys to meet in his home-country and begin a new relationship.

However, Jean noticed how much in the country of love, you weren't safe. No, there were just too many...unhinged men gawking at you whenever you guys went out. You would always enage back, because why not? You wouldn't want to look rude when someone is talking to you.

This irked Jean too much. Is this what it felt like to be jealous? To have people constantly hit on you? To ignore the fact that your partner is literally RIGHT THERE and still had the nerve to talk crazy? Oh, his poor heart and soul didn't like this venom feeling. Always expect Jean to make a whole scene just to embarass the guy and show him how annoying he really is and disturbing your evening with your precious boyfriend. He'd be talking about it all the way until the two of you get home.

Being intimate behind closed doors or in public doesn't concern this bubbly French man one bit! Jean loves to show you off to anyone and everyone in his presence, but he's very proud that he is the only person who gets to see you as you truly are: a caring, compassionate, beautiful woman. And yes, he'll do that again and again, just for the sake of showing that he loves you.

From the way he'll dress you up all nicely just to slowly and gently ruin you. How you can never tell what is going on in Jean's mind and how hard he works in every aspect of life just to prove to you that he will never treat you badly. That everything will turn out alright, because he is yours forever.

And those kisses that he's so desperate to give, Jean keeps asking you to give him so that he could feel better. Like they're some sort of therapy for his soul or something. The way the two of you would kiss for hours, with nothing else in between. How long it took for you both to calm down from the intensity of the passion and how his lips would always be covered in a layer of lipstick. It was adorable how embarrassed you are by these things. But also very sexy the way both of your stomachs would flutter with butterflies no matter how long the relationship lasted.

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connorjared · 3 months

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there are so many things I could say and back up with my annotations but there are some things I want to say

- connor is an unreliable narrator, but in an interesting way. unlike evan, connor's text is purposely written like he's trying to seem WORSE than he is. that's why I think rereading the book as an adult (especially if you have worked with kids) is so incredibly tragic. it's easier to see every way he was utterly failed both personally and systemically when you are no longer the child being failed personally and systemically

- connor is canonically a victim of the troubled teen industry and says it was BETTER than rehab. this genuinely breaks my heart because you can catch little pieces of CPTSD throughout his text and dialogue—he becomes extremely defensive and assumes evan is "tricking him into looking crazy," he states relief there's no longer anyone "waiting around the corner to catch him or check for red in his eyes" this child was treated like a criminal and the one place he felt safe in was removed when he chose to take the blame for something that he didn't do (see below)

- connor taking the fall for his... situationshipfriend miguel because he knew his parents were rich enough and he was white enough to get a more lenient punishment for WEED (which. the criminalization of that and the stigma is a whole OTHER thing) this haunts me. the act itself is noble, unhealthily self sacrificing, but that's not what gets me. his proclaimed friend not only allows him to do this, but even after connor GOES TO REHAB FOR HIM miguel doesn't tell his own mom the truth, causing her to ban the two of them hanging out and connor LOSES his only safe space right after undergoing rehab that he never even needed

- connor canonically has been put on and off multiple medications , we unfortunately don't know when this started but we DO know it was not in his control. SSRIs take a long time to work and shouldn't be switched quickly even for adults, let alone teenagers, and they ESPECIALLY should not be used as stand-ins for accommodations of a disability. there's far more I could say about other medications this might have been such as an SNRI (which connor has said to have less than favorable opinions of) and this is possibly even MORE concerning

- there has been a BUZZ on tiktok about how zoe was a girl icon for being forced to mourn her "abusive brother" and while they definitely had a toxic sibling dynamic fed by their toxic parental dynamic, the idea the toxicity was one sided is just... wrong. not even subjectively, the narrative WANTS you to know this is wrong, at least in the book. the musical... lets just say, im glad they wrote the book. it doesn't undo the honestly pretty shit messaging of the musical, but it adds context that helps derail claims like the one above that add further stigma to victims of suicide. zoe is verbally degrading to connor in recollections and in the small amount of time we hear her speak about him (though, this does change as her character develops throughout the book and she begins to mourn him properly.) zoe is a glass child. she resents all of the negative attention connor received because she didn't get any attention at all. so, she often sides with larry through the book, who is said to have more or less gotten tired of connor and considered him attention seeking, which would be something INCREDIBLY validating for a glass child to hear. zoe is, unfortunately and ironically, often written with detail but no substance. evan, who I could talk about at length and very angrily, constantly prattles small things he notices about her—but, and im not sure if this is the author's intention or not, she barely gets any true characterization outside of her interactions with others, which strangely almost makes her a side character (which i suppose she is) but there are some core parts of HER identity and her character alone that can be picked up throughout the book and i could go on for hours about that and i will not now but i will

- i didn't even touch on cynthia and larry and their abuse (yes! people can love their children and be abusive) but by god i will. by god

dear evan hansen fandom please interact. if u disagree i will probably point an autism beam at you in the form of a personally crafted video essay on why I am right and you are wrong. I have read this book inside and out

#connor murphy #dear evan hansen #autism hell

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likeadevils · 1 year

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Speak Now Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Speak Now in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also added a few other songs she wrote while writing Speak Now and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order or this playlist of her entire discography.

Due to a surprising amount of digital decay and her life not being highly documented yet, exact dates are bit harder to come by then they are with following albums, but you can still find a few! I’ve added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but everything points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices)

More notes: I will probably be editing it as information about vault songs and new details about old songs get come out, so it probably won’t be finished until July, so check back in with this post and/or follow me if you want updates. Most tweet dates come from crawling through the wayback machine, but if you want further sourcing, feel free me an ask/dm.

Without further ado...

Sparks Fly: Late 2006 (Inferring)

Taylor opened up for Jake Owen on October 31, 2006 In Portland, Oregon (the secret message for the song), and wrote Sparks Fly about the experience shortly after. I’ve seen a few second hand sources say she wrote it on the airplane ride back to Nashville later that same night, but I can’t find Taylor herself saying that, so it might just be an old fandom legend, or the source has been lost to digital decay, or I just haven’t looked hard enough. She first performs the song in May 29, 2007.

Haunted: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "Haunted" is about the moment that you realize the person you're in love with is drifting and fading fast. And you don't know what to do, but in that period of time, in that phase of love, where it's fading out, time moves so slowly. Everything hinges on what that last text message said, and you're realizing that he's kind of falling out of love. That's a really heartbreaking and tragic thing to go through, because the whole time you're trying to tell yourself it's not happening. I went through this, and I ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing this song about it.

February 17, 2009: Tweets "It's 3:58 am in London.. And I accidentally fell asleep at 6:30 pm, so now I'm wide awake and have no idea what to do. Write a song?"

It’s possible that this was what Taylor was referring to when she said she “ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing [Haunted]”, but it’s also very possible that Taylor didn’t write a song on February 17, and waking up in the middle of the night and writing a song is not a rare occurrence in Taylor’s life, so one tweet doesn’t really prove anything.

March 13, 2009: Tweets "A day off in Sydney. Drove two hours out of the city and spent the day on the beach. Wrote a chorus you'll hear on the next record. :)"

Pure speculation, but I think she was working on Mr. Perfectly Fine. It was created in 2009, and in my opinion, of the possible songs it has the most notable chorus.

March 19, 2009: Posts on Myspace “I’m wiped out. I’ve been in the studio all day ( I know, I know.. We JUST put out a new album. I think I have a problem, I cannot stop writing songs.) It’s so much fun knowing that you can take your time, because you have like a year and a half to make something you’re really proud of. I love recording a few songs, waiting a few months, recording a few more.. Instead of devoting a few weeks to “record the album” and then it’s just done. I like dragging it out, that way you can be meticulous about every detail. Daydream about different ways to put the songs together, and then take them apart. I’m pretty obsessed with the whole process. So needless to say, it was good to be back in the studio with my redheaded producer who I missed terribly.”

If This Was A Movie: April 2009 (Inferring)

Taylor has literally never talked about this song, but April would be six months after and Joe Jonas broke up in late September/early October 2008.

April 24, 2009: Taylor plays in Jonesboro, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [likely Enchanted], that would happen again in Boston [likely Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

May 23, 2009: Taylor records Half Of My Heart with John Mayer

On March 1, 2009: John Mayer tweeted: “Waking up to this song idea that won’t leave my head. 3 days straight now. That means it’s good enough to finish. It’s called Half of My Heart and I want to sing it with Taylor Swift. She would make a killer Stevie Nicks in contrast to my Tom Petty of a song.” On May 23, John Mayer tweeted "I couldn't get Taylor Swift on my record so I found the world's greatest impersonator, Laura Jacksheimer" with a picture of Taylor.

Superman: Spring 2009 (Speculation)

This could have been written any time in 2009, but due to it's general sound and the following quote, I’d guess it was written sometime in spring, when her and John Mayer first started working together. Taylor: “This was a guy that I was sort of enamored with, as usual. This song got its title by something that I just kinda said randomly in conversation. He walked out of the room, I looked over at one of my friends and said, ‘Man, It’s just like watching Superman fly away.’”

May 29, 2009: Posts on Myspace “Tomorrow, after the performance on the Today show, I’ll fly back to Nashville and record a lot of new songs I’ve written in the last few weeks. I’m really excited about that.” (She also posts "Tonight I went shopping at Top Shop in New York with the band. I got purple shoes. I’m really excited about the purple shoes, and I just needed to tell someone. I got purple shoes. Ok. That’s done." Which. If I had a nickel for everytime Taylor teased her new album by posting about shoe colors I'd have two nickels, which isnt a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

June 4, 2009: Posts on Facebook "In the studio. I don't know whose computer I'm using. Pssh.. Such a rebel right now.."

June 9, 2009: Tweets (about recording Thug Story) "If I said I was in the studio with T-Pain, would you believe me?"

Better Than Revenge and Let’s Go (Battle): June 2009 (Inferring)

These were probably written sometime between June 12, when the Jonas Brothers released “Much Better”, and July 1, when Taylor posted on Myspace: “What else is new.. Recording a bunch of new songs. Lots of new things to write about…..”

Last Kiss: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "The song "Last Kiss" is sort of like a letter to somebody. You say all of these desperate, hopeless feelings that you have after a breakup. Going through a breakup you feel all of these different things. You feel anger, and you feel confusion, and frustration. Then there is the absolute sadness. The sadness of losing this person, losing all the memories, and the hopes you had for the future. There are times when you have this moment of truth where you just admit to yourself that you miss all these things. When I was in one of those moments I wrote this song."

July 22, 2009: Tweets "Hanging with my producer Nathan, discussing the next adventure" and then in a separate tweet "...album #3."

Never Grow Up: Fall 2009 (Speculation)

Lover Diary Nathan Chapman: "The song 'Never Grow Up' is just she singing and I on acoustic guitar. We recorded ourselves live. That song probably happened in two hours." This could’ve been written at any time in 2009, but I put it here because she bought her Nashville apartment sometime before October.

September 8, 2009: Tweeted "Last night in nash before heading out tomorrow for 4 shows, then VMA's. But right now I can't put the guitar down."

September 13, 2009: VMAs Incident

Enchanted: September 15, 2009 (Confirmed)

On September 15, Taylor attended an Owl City Concert in New York Taylor: "It was about this guy that I met in New York City, and I had talked to him on email or something before, but I had never met him. And meeting him, it was this overwhelming feeling of: I really hope that you're not in love with somebody. And the whole entire way home, I remember the glittery New York City buildings passing by, and then just sitting there thinking, am I ever going to talk to this person again? And that pining away for a romance that may never even happen, but all you have is this hope that it could, and the fear that it never will. I started writing that in the hotel room when I got back. Because it just was this positive, wistful feeling of: I hope you understand just how much I loved meeting you. I hope that you know that meeting you was not something that I took lightly, or just in passing. And I think my favorite part of that song is the part where, in the bridge, it goes to sort of a stream of consciousness of ‘Please don't be in love with someone else/Please don't have somebody waiting on you.' Because at that moment, that's exactly what my thoughts were. And it feels good to write exactly what your thoughts were in a certain moment.”

September 26, 2009: Taylor plays in Little Rock, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [Enchanted & Back To December], that would happen again in Boston [Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

October 17, 2009: Tweets "Travis: you look so out of it. Me: I'm writing a song in my head. Travis: oh, I apologize. I didn't realize you were working."

November 30, 2009: Tweets "If I had a dime for every time my producer and I blurt out the same thing at the same time, followed by an awkward, uncoordinated high five..."

Ours: December 6, 2009 (Inferring)

Myspace Post on December 6: “I just got back to Nashville this morning after being in LA all week. Today I was out and about and in the studio all day” Taylor: "I wrote this when I was about to turn 20. I was in a relationship I knew people wouldn't approve of, and it was just a matter of time before everyone found out. When you're first getting to know someone, it's a fragile time, and then you add newspapers and magazine covers and it can get kind of rough. I wanted to have this song to play for him when it got difficult. Singing it for him was one of the sweetest moments I can remember."

December 22, 2009: Tweets "I was writing a song and my pen fell into the piano. Still trying to figure out if I should do anything about this."

January 2010: Starts polishing up the demos made in 2009 into fully produced tracks

Billboard: "Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce." Nathan Chapman: "We stripped it down and made the demos first. Taylor came to my studio and I played all the instruments on the demos, and because I have a good vocal booth, her demo vocals ended up being the vocals you hear on the record. After finishing the demos, we went out to different studios, and tried different combinations of engineers and musicians to replace some of the elements of my demos, mostly the programmed drums, and to do additional overdubs. [...] A pop artist would probably release what we'd done after five hours, but country artists don't want to hear programmed drums, they don't want to hear fake stuff. So once we had recorded the demos, we would book whatever studio we wanted for each song, to replace the drums, in many cases the bass, and to add whatever overdubs we envisioned, like fiddle, keyboards, percussion and strings. After we got the demos right, we opened it up and allowed ourselves to spend money and cut a big record." Taylor tweets on January 11: "Studio-ness with all the same boys who played on Fearless" and on January 13: "More recording. So excited. So excited. So excited. See, I said that three times. Once for every album we've made in this studio."

January 13, 2010: Posts on Myspace “Thank you January. I have had this month off. I have walked on snow-covered grass and discovered new coffee shops and laughed hysterically with friends about things that probably weren’t technically funny. I’ve written songs on napkins and sat at a giant table with my whole family on my mother’s birthday, all of us in one place for the first time in too long. I’ve gotten to take what has happened to me and process it to my full capability, and celebrate it the way it deserved to be celebrated. I’ve made new music. I’ve gone over the memories and jumped up and down with my producer and floated around with nothing on my schedule other than just appreciating what my life has somehow turned into. [...] Getting back in the studio with the same guys I trust and know and love.. (right, the pointing one: my producer Nathan Chapman) (Left, the waving one: Bass extraorinaire, Tim Marks. Clearly marked on his road case.) [...] Nick Buddha is in charge of the drums.”

February 13, 2010: Writes in her diary "I’ve been obsessing over the new album. I always do that until it’s just right. I don’t know if I have the formula just right for this one yet. I know there are great songs. I just need to figure out the strands that bond them together into a great album. And I will obsess until it’s there. This album, any album, is the next 2 years of my life. It has to be more than amazing. It has to be great enough to keep my attention for 2 years."

February 22, 2010: Posts on Myspace "I’ve been writing lots of songs"

Mine: March 10-12 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:17): "I wrote Mine somewhere on the road, I think in Texas, actually." Nathan Chapman: "The demo for 'Mine' apparently took less than five hours to record, and sounded, according to Chapman, "almost identical to the record. After that we worked on the track for another four months, off and on, and spent $30,000 to make sure it sounded perfect in the real world."" Taylor: "This song is the first single because it has this…there was this moment between Nathan and I, my producer, when I brought this song in and when we made this demo in one day in his basement and we just kinda looked at each other and we were like, "This is it. This is the one. All of the times that I've had "The Moment" with songs of "This is the one," it's been a good call, so I'm hoping for the best on this one. Wish me luck." Scott Borchetta: "Mine" was a turning point in the album’s development. Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce. Swift presented "Mine" to Borchetta in his office [...] "We probably played that song four or five times," Borchetta recalls. "I’m jumping around playing air guitar, she’s singing the song back to me, and it was just one of those crazy, fun, Taylor teen-age moments."

March 13, 2010: Taylor records Mine, brings it to Scott Borchetta, and says she’s done with TS3

Scott Borchetta: "I said, ‘Keep going,’ [...] She kind of looked at me like, ‘You’re challenging me.’ And I said, ‘Yeah. You’ve found true north here. Keep going.’ " Taylor: “During Speak Now, when I went to (label head) Scott Borchetta and said, 'The album’s finished,’ he said, 'No, it’s not – you need to keep writing.’” (Right after playing in Texas, Taylor leaves for a vacation in the Bahamas, meaning Taylor likely had about a day in Nashville between the two trips).

Innocent: Late March 2010 (Inferring)

Billboard: “It was some time in the period after that challenge — between February and June — that Swift wrote “Innocent,” her response to the Kanye West incident.” Taylor: “Some songs take 30 minutes to write, and some take six months, which was the case with “Innocent.” When things affect me intensely and really hit me hard, it can take a while to figure out what I think about it and what to say about it.” (March would be just over 6 months since the VMAs).

March 24, 2010: Taylor goes lunch with Taylor Lautner and both of their publicists, inspiring Back To December.

Taylor: Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."

Speak Now: Early April, 2010 (Inferring)

On April 3, Taylor attended the wedding of Josh Farro as Hayley Williams (who is Josh's ex) plus one. That day she also tweeted: ""Nathan you smell really good! Is that a new cologne?" "Thanks! Actually it's a two in one shampoo and soap. From Dial." My producer rules." implying she was in the studio. The conversation below could have happened any day after the VMA awards in September, when Hayley first reached out to Taylor, but I think Taylor probably wrote the song fairly close to naming the album after it. Taylor: "This song was inspired by one of my friends who was telling me about her childhood sweetheart, crush guy. They were kind of together in high school and went their separate ways, and it was kind of understood that they were gonna get back together. Then, she one day comes in and tells me he's getting married. He had met this girl who was just this mean person who made him completely stop talking to all of his friends, cut off his family, had him like so completely isolated. And I just, kind of randomly, was like, "So, you gonna speak now?" She was like, "What do you mean?" And I was like "Oh, you know, like storm the church, speak now or forever hold your peace? I'll go with you. I'll play guitar. It would be great." She was just kind of laughing, and later on I just was wrapping my mind around that idea of how tragic it would be if someone you loved was marrying somebody else. Later I had a dream about one of my ex-boyfriends getting married, and it just all came together that I needed to write this song about interrupting a wedding. For me, I like to think of it as good versus evil, and this girl is so completely painted as the evil one. So this is "Speak Now.""

April 13, 2010: Names TS3 Speak Now

Lover Diaries: "So I’ve been obsessing over the new record to the point where it’s all I can focus on. I’m majorly stressed and borderline losing it, with all these lists and chronic dissatisfaction. Perfectionist-ness. I keep growing tired of songs because I know I’ve raised the bar and I can beat half the songs. Scott and I had lunch the other day. We were talking about the record and I had this epiphany. I didn’t talk in interviews about how I felt about much of what has happened in the last 2 years. I’ve been silent about so much that I’m saying on this album. It’s time to Speak Now. Scott freaked out. He loved it. We have a title, ladies and gentlemen!" Scott Borchetta: ""At one point, the record was not called ‘Speak Now.’ It was called ‘Enchanted,’ [...] We were at lunch, and she had played me a bunch of the new songs. I looked at her and I’m like, ‘Taylor, this record isn’t about fairy tales and high school anymore. That’s not where you’re at. I don’t think the record should be called "Enchanted."’” Swift excused herself from the table at that point. By the time she came back, she had the "Speak Now" title"

Dear John: Spring 2010 (Speculation)

This was likely written sometime after February 2010 (Taylor implies she's single in her vlog and her diary). Beyond that, it could have been anytime between February and June 2010.

Brief Interruption: The next two songs (Back to December and Mean) are going to use quotes from this interview that @1989worldtour found. If you've already listened to the interview attached to the Mine section, then it's the same interview

Back To December: Early May, 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:12): "Back to December was written in New York City. Taylor was in New York city from May 3-5, and May 12-15 2010. she was not photographed in New York any other time in early 2010, and given her busy touring schedule, I doubt she was in New York at another time. USA TODAY: “Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."”

Mean: May 29, 2010 (Speculation)

Taylor (above interview, about 6 minutes in): "I started this song called Mean on my, like sitting on my kitchen counter, just playing it, and then, you know, took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night and finished it in the dressing room." Now, this may be a too literal interpretation of "took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night," but if we want to theorize: the only tour date (that Taylor could've conceivably written Mean during) without another show right before or after it was in Baton Rogue on May 29, 2010.

Long Live: June 2010 (Confirmed)

Lover Diary She likely wrote this around June 5, when she ended the Fearless Tour at Gillette Stadium (Wikipedia counts two festivals as being part of the Fearless Tour but Taylor doesn't, so I'm going with her opinion), since she said that she wrote a song for Speak Now in Boston (which is the closest major city to Gillette)

The Story Of Us: June 9-16, 2010 (Confirmed)

Taylor attended the CMT Awards (Which goes on to be the secret message for The Story Of Us) on June 9 and was sat very close to John Mayer. Taylor: "The people closest to me are used to me deserting a conversation and bolting into some corner of the room with my phone out, hunched over, singing some melody or lyric or hook into my phone. I wrote “The Story of Us” about running into an ex at an awards show, and I came home and sat down at a kitchen table and told my mom, “I felt like I was standing alone in a crowded room.” She tried to console me, but I was gone at that point." Lover Diary: "So I’ve been a little studio rat since the tour ended [...] Ever since, I wake up to my cell phone alarm around 9:30 each morning. Throw on a sundress, skip make up, tie my hair in a messy side braid, and head out the door with no shoes on. Because the only walking outside I’ll be doing is from my house to my car, then from my car, three steps to Nathan’s basement studio. [...] I worked on a song for a few days, then basically finished it in the car on the way to Nathan’s this morning. It. Is. So. Good. And I can safely say I am DONE writing this record!! This song is up-tempo, and hooky and sort of torn-sounding … like this horrible stressed confusion that comes on when you knew the person you’re pining away for is in the room. And for some reason, there are these invisible walls keeping things from being ok. So you’re not fine. And they’re not fine. And I’m so happy I wrote that song!! Footage of Taylor working on TSOU

June 30, 2010: Taylor tweets “@amosjheller is SLAYING a bass part in the studio right now. http://twitpic.com/21am7t”

Footage Nathan Chapman: “We tried several bassists until we had a bass part that worked, which was played by Amos Heller, of Taylor's live band. In Nashville, it's rare for a road musician to be on the record, but he earned his way into this record by kicking ass. In fact, all Taylor's road musicians played some parts on the album, which was important for me and her.”

July 15, 2010: The orchestra for Back To December and Haunted are recorded (footage here, same outfit as these candids)

Taylor (talking about Haunted): “I wanted the music and the orchestration to reflect the intensity of the emotion the song is about, so we recorded strings with Paul Buckmaster at Capitol Studios in Los Angeles. It was an amazing experience - recording this entire big, live string section that I think in the end really captured the intense, chaotic feeling of confusion I was looking for."

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#txt*#timeline*#taylor swift #if this deletes again i might actually delete my account #let me know if theres a typo or anything my eyes are glazing over

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sunlightdances · 5 months

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Stay (Dean Winchester x OFC)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character Rating: PG-13 for swearing and mentions of sex. Summary: Dean and Avery have a two-night stand, and after that weekend, they go their separate ways. They never expected to see each other again, but the universe has other plans. A/N: Guys, where do I even begin? It’s been ages. I miss you. I see your messages, your likes, your reblogs. Thank you. Here’s this. I wrote a lot of it on my phone, so bear with me if there are typos.

It just goes like this, doesn't it?

One night where the both of them could let go of expectations, of being who the universe was making them be. One night.

But just like they knew they didn't have a choice but to be who the universe wanted them to be, they should have known the universe would pull the absolute worst April Fool's Day prank of all time.

They gape at each other, minds racing as images of tangled sheets, open mouths, and moonlit smiles come flooding back.

The task at hand doesn't let them linger too long.

She's firing with military precision, and he's right there with her, sweat dripping down his jaw as he reloads round after round, wondering if the universe put them both here to die together.

But then Sam shows up, like he always does. He saves them both, and the three of them save the day.

It takes longer for Dean to work up the courage to look her in her eyes. He feels-- he feels ashamed somehow, that he let her go that rainy Sunday morning.

There was never an argument or anything. They both just knew it was time. She had said she had to catch a flight and get back to work, and he lied and told her he had to do the same thing.

They had two nights of connection, of passion, but also of affection. He told her things he never told anyone. They spent a Saturday night fully clothed, eating take out straight from the containers in a hotel's king-sized bed. He felt comfortable with her like he hadn't felt with anyone in years.

And yeah, it sucked when she left. He sort of hoped there'd be a knock on the door saying she missed her flight, but he wasn't sad. They both knew what they were signing up for when they met at the bar that Friday night, eyes only for each other.

Still, he thinks he's remembered her kiss every day since.

He still thinks no one has ever touched him like she did.

So, yeah, he's a little angry and flustered when he sees her here, because she said she worked in marketing or some bullshit, and while he didn't expect her to be totally truthful with a stranger, this is a little too coincidental to be believed.

She bats his hands away when he offers to help her bandage a big scrape on her leg, and he tries not to make a face at the rejection. He's very aware of Sam watching him closely, but he has no idea what to say.

There's no point in lying about knowing her. He told Sam that he had spent a weekend with a woman the day he came home from his impromptu trip, but that it was nothing special, nothing but some no strings attached fun.

Turns out Dean might be the one who had a few strings.

Her face feels like it's on fire. Her game plan so far is just to refuse to speak to him, but that feels a bit stupid given the situation they just found themselves in.

Jesus Christ, but he couldn't have said he was Dean Winchester when they met? To be fair - she didn't give a lot of details about herself either. They didn't even really talk about work except when she said there was no way she could stretch her trip into one more day. She had to work.

(She lied about work just like he did, but that's neither here nor there)

She just never thought she'd still be thinking about him months later, much less seeing him in person. In the middle of a hunt.

She did have a real job. She wasn't lying about that. Her work for the FBI is very, very, VERY top secret. Fringe Division has been practically dead for years, but ever since the almost-apocalypse (she supposes she has Dean to thank for that, too), their work is more important than ever.

She was just supposed to be doing field work. Recon. She was never supposed to get involved, but here she is, trying to put a bandage on herself in the middle of the woods.

She can’t stop herself from watching his hands, remembering when they traced every inch of her skin and made her gasp and writhe and the way in the next breath they’d find a ticklish spot and make her laugh.

It’s just all so unbelievable.

Sam is the one to break the ice, which feels inevitable. “So. Anyone want to explain this?” He gestures between her and Dean.

Dean’s jaw clenches. For a moment she feels frustrated because why is he angry? They parted mutually. They both told lies and half truths and let themselves escape in high thread count sheets and each other.

She thrusts out her hand. The one not currently covered in blood. “Avery Harper.”

“Avery.” Sam repeats.

“Technically it’s Special Agent Avery Harper, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Dean chokes out a laugh, but it’s a little bitter. Avery’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I think we have a lot of catching up to do,” she suggests. “Food?”

She turns and heads toward her car before anyone says anything else. She hears a whispered argument, an exasperated sigh, and then finally the sound of footsteps on the crushed gravel. A hand grabs her elbow a moment later, then releases her like she’s on fire.

“We look like shit.” Dean’s voice is gruff. “Pizza at our place instead.”

The drive to their place is pleasant, at least. She struggles to keep up with Dean’s car, but she suspects he’s doing it on purpose so she lets him. He’s never truly out of her sight. She uses the time to try to work her way out of this, but decides there’s no point.

The only thing she needs to do is make them understand she’s not trying to take over their turf and that she has no interest in arresting them, and hope that they hear her out.

She follows along a long dirt driveway. The building looks rundown from the outside, but she trusts them. Trusts Dean.

Inside, she’s not ashamed of the way her mouth falls open as she takes in the gleaming tiles and smooth wood. The place is incredible.

“The inner sanctum?”

“Something like that.” Dean mutters, brushing past her. They both pause at the contact.

“I’m going to…. order pizza”. Sam says, quickly making himself scarce.

She and Dean stand there in the fading sunlight streaming in through a nearby window, and the light catches on his eyes. He’s hurt. She can see that, and she does feel guilty. Even though they were both doing the same thing, she’s realizing now that he probably would have loved to know he was completely understood.

That night, even though she didn’t know who he was, she felt a connection that was deeper than attraction. Now she knows why.

“I didn’t know who you were.” She says, hands tightening at her sides.

“How is that possible?”

“Not every agent is out to get you.”

He smirks. “Most of my interactions with the feds say the opposite.”

She exhales.

He rubs a hand over his face. The sound of his stubble scratching against weathered palms takes her back to a warm bed, a feeling of being so cocooned with someone else she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

“Is Avery even your real name?” He asks, voice rough.

“Yes.”

A beat. “Marketing?”

She can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t know what to say!”

“You could have bragged about having a badass job.”

She’s surprised, but tries not to show it. “So could you.”

He shrugs. “Wanted to… shed it.”

“Me too.” She admits softly.

This time when he meets her eyes, his are vulnerable, a dark green that leaves goosebumps on her arms. “I—“ he stops himself. She wishes he wouldn’t. He changes tactics. “Let me take a look at that arm.”

“It’s alright-“

“Ave. Let me.”

A shortened version of her name hits her right in the gut. It’s familiar, intimate in a way she hadn’t been expecting. “Okay.” She relents.

He can’t take his eyes off her.

He was angry for a minute, he felt off guard, off kilter, but now that she’s in front of him he can’t bring himself to hold a grudge. He’s just happy to see her.

The FBI.

What a fucking day.

She doesn’t tell him much about why she was hunting, how she knew about the fight he and Sam were in on, how she showed up right when they did and where any of her intel came from.

They’ve always known that someone somewhere in the feds had an inside track, and it always bothered him. But because it’s her, he can’t find it in himself to be angry.

He thinks of the way she didn’t hesitate, just set up shoulder to shoulder with him and aimed her weapon like she’d be damned if anyone or anything tried to get close to the Winchesters.

He’s pretty amazed by her, he’s got to admit. She’s everything he’s ever wanted wrapped up in the most beautiful package, and that’s what makes him pause. Because he’s never allowed to have good things for long.

In his bathroom he inspects her wounds, uses the excuse to crowd her a little bit, inhales the familiar scent of citrus and vanilla that follows her like a cloud.

If she notices she doesn’t say anything and he’s grateful.

Her hand fits just so in his.

“Thank you.” She says eventually.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Dean—“

He looks up, sees her eyes uncertain, a little wild.

She kisses him before he can take his next breath. It sends heat sizzling up his spine, electricity crackling in the space between them.

It’s exactly how he remembers it, and somehow more. More because they’re truly themselves now, no secrets between them.

His hands are in her hair. Hers are tight on his hips, digging in, a desperation in her touch that he's relieved to feel, proof that he isn't the only one feeling this way.

When the need for air is too much, they wrench apart, gasping. Her mouth goes to his neck, and his lips find her forehead, and he can't do this again. He can't pretend.

"Wait. Avery, wait."

Her eyes are unfocused when she looks at him. "Sorry--"

He shakes his head. "Don't be. I-- god, I wanted that. I just... it's too much. I can't."

"I've thought about this for months." She admits, and his eyes slide shut.

"Don't tell me that."

"It's the truth." When he opens his eyes again, her smile is sad, but there's a bit of hope there too, and it makes his heart pick up speed. "I didn't want to go, that morning. I wanted to give you my number, I wanted to see you again."

"I did too. I wanted you to come back."

"It feels cursed, Dean." She says quietly. "This-- this is all too much of a coincidence."

He nods. "I know. But-- is that so bad?" He leans close, lips at her temple. Can't stop touching her. "Can't we just give ourselves something to be happy about?"

"We do have a lot to fill each other in about." She agrees, words sounding more like a moan in the quiet room.

"Stay." His voice is hoarse. "Stay with me. We'll figure it all out after."

He's tired of denying himself things he wants, things that make him happy. And if all the decisions he's made over the last few months, every thought and every choice have lead him right back here to her, then who is he to question it?

She stays.

#dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x oc #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #not my first original fic on this blog in like 3 years #god #i had a thought and it wouldn't go away

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thatbadadvice · 1 year

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Help! The Woman I Have Been Stalking for Years Is Disinclined to Engage With Me

Carolyn Hax, WaPo, 1 June 2023 (originally 11 March 2009):

Dear Carolyn: About five years ago, I began to realize that a woman I dated 25 years earlier was someone I had stronger feelings for than I was mature enough to appreciate at the time. I had questions for her about why we hadn’t blossomed into the kind of relationship I now think we both believe we were destined for. In the past five years, I’ve continued to have those questions, then dreams, etc., which led me to do a paid search for her address. I wrote her twice and left a voice mail. My messages have been about old friends I bumped into who reminded me of her, what I’ve been doing and how I’d like to hear from her. That is, nothing too serious or about what’s been on my mind. I haven’t received an answer. I’ve thought through the reasons she hasn’t corresponded, and why I needed to talk with her, and am still at a loss. Would asking her my questions directly in a letter be a way to coax her to reconnect? Telling her that, apart from this midlife crisis of mine, I’m happily married and successful, and that all I want are answers? -- A 30-year-old question

Dear 30-Year-Old Question,

One might expect a happily married person to do all kinds of things, but topmost among them is paying to find the contact information of an ex-girlfriend and sending said ex-girlfriend multiple unanswered messages, repeatedly and through a variety of means, over the course of many years in the hopes of deceiving her into heady conversations about the details of your long-ended relationship. Yes indeed, when the Bad Advisor thinks of "normal stuff a person who's very happy in their marriage would do," her mind immediately goes to "pretending to ask innocuous questions about old friends in the hope that a woman I dated 30 years ago believes I am solely and only asking her innocent questions about old friends, when in fact I am explicitly and admittedly not."

Women are famously unable to clock the intentions of men, who are very clever, extremely stealthy, and never creepy or dangerous to the extent that they would unsettle people from whom they have demanded interaction and who have time and time again ignored them. Probably this woman received your incredibly blasé letters and voicemail and thought: "Gosh, it seems like this dude who deuced out on me three decades ago is trying to rope me into responding to him multiple times despite my obvious disinclination to engage only and exclusively on the subject of our old friends, what a boring conversation, I shan't respond unless he sends me a lengthy bit of written correspondence detailing his many thoughts and feelings about how our romance ended, I simply can't imagine having a conversation with him unless I know for absolute certain he wants to rehash what happened between us, which is the only possible way I could fathom entertaining such a reconnection, one which I would never have reason to pursue otherwise, as I am so desperately in love with him and have been lo these 30 years but could not in good conscience find a way to broach the subject unless he sends me just one more letter finally making his bonerful intentions plain, that sly dog."

Might you have neglected to include a return address on the previous correspondence about which you were extremely desperate, but in a very casual way, to receive a response? Does your ex-girlfriend own the only cellular telephone on earth that does not log the return-call number of people who leave voicemails? Mayhap she simply does not know how to contact you after multiple attempts over half a decade! These are highly probable reasons she has not sought you out! Vastly more likely than the fact that she sees entirely the fuck through your pretenses and wants nothing to do with you whatsoever.

If you wish to receive a concrete answer about the status of your relationships, your best hope is to CC your spouse on any future correspondence. I think you can expect a prompt response.

#advice #bad advice #carolyn hax #washington post #mid-life crisis #happily married #the gift of fear #just asking questions #sea lion #m'lady #stalking #just regular stuff happily married dudes do #absolutely normal shit

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wellmetmat · 3 months

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Motivations

As part of a mild ongoing attempt to show me that Ursula le Guin might be likeable, a friend sent me a quote of hers which he found so: in which she mocks Freud for saying that artists' work is motivated by desire for "honour, power, riches, fame and the love of women". Discussing that isn't the point of this post (especially since my discussing turned into mostly rehashing Mary Renault's depiction of the motivations of the poet Simonides, since I'd re-read it recently and was feeling keen, and may have wound up unvirtuously with a suggestion that Mary Renault wrote better prose than Ursula le Guin and almost certainly knew the love of far more women).

The point of this post is just that the wording of the Freud quote naturally brought to mind the Vorkosigan elephant anecdote. My friend hadn't heard it before, and telling it made me feel warm about it anew, so I wanted to retell it here; why not? This is a reasonable place for praising authors, and I have the impression I'm more likely to run into another Bujold fan than a Renault fan.

(The following copied from a message to my friend. It's ages since I read the books; please excuse any wrong details.)

In one of Bujold's books Simon Illyan recounts how he tried to have one of his spies bribe an official of another government. What the official turned out to want - what would really move his heart with pleasure and make him open to co-operation - was an elephant. A real live elephant. He'd heard of them but of course never been close to one. None of these people live on Earth! So Illyan, wondering all the time if it was just a run-around, obtained...? in some way...? an elephant from Earth (just one, poor thing) and arranged for it to take a multi-leg journey by spaceship, through goodness knows what quarantines (poor thing). And the official was delighted! It hadn't been a passing whim; he really had a long-standing feeling that a kind of animal he'd never seen in the flesh was very cool, and found it thrilling to meet one (and "kept it in the embassy grounds", which we hope were large and lush). Illyan reflects on "the motivations of men: money, power, sex - and elephants".

It's a moment of a quality or idea I like very much in Bujold's stories, something expansive and humorous and humane: nearly everyone has standard, sordid desires; people are awful and brutal and also tragically just need a lot of things; but there are these looks-aside from the myopic pursuit of standard needs, people's hearts go out mysteriously and settle on strange things, or on a central thing one might call Excellence; people love beings that aren't any use to them; beauty slips in among the other needs, that happens sometimes.

#motivations of men #Bujold #Renault #ULG

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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i don't know who i think i am updating so many times this week, but here we are. enjoy it while it lasts, kiddos. and happiest of birthdays to @shyvioletcat who is the reason i even wrote this fic in the first place. love u bb 💚

rowaelin // 7k words // masterlist

The pillow beside him still smelled faintly of her perfume, yet when he reached for the warm body that should have been next to him, he found nothing but cool, rumpled sheets. Rowan let out a low groan of disappointment and rolled halfway off the bed to feel for his jeans. When he finally found his phone in the back pocket and checked the time he knew she hadn’t been gone for too long. It was only six-thirty in the morning, and he was almost positive she had been pressed against him the majority of the night.

Gods, last night. Rowan hadn’t had sex in months, and the woman Connall had pushed toward him like an offering had been his perfect match. Everything he gave her, she had given back. She took as much as he did, and he couldn’t help himself when he sent her tumbling over the edge until she was a shaking, sweaty mess. It was, by far, the sexiest thing he had ever seen. The sounds of her breathy moans, the feeling of her cherry red nails dragging sharply up his back and over his shoulder blades, or of the way she’d pressed her fingertips into his lower back to urge him closer… Those were things he would not soon forget. He was pretty sure if he looked in the mirror, he would have the reminder of her hands etched on his skin until at least tomorrow.

He was desperate to do it all over again with her.

It took him a moment, but he managed to find another pair of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt in the back of the closet. As the door leading to the apartment closed behind him, a heavy sigh sank from his chest. Connall had a smirk that said he knew way more than he should. The bastard. He spent so many late nights at the bar, it wouldn’t surprise Rowan if he had been there all night and heard every sound he pulled from Aelin’s soft, perfect lips.

“Terrasen won last night.” Connall was standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen, drying a clean glass as he took in his friend.

“I know,” Rowan grumbled, adjusting his clothes from the night before in his hands. Several of his missed text-messages had been about their victory. Apparently, it had been a close game that went into overtime. But it seemed that Orynth grew football players in the mountains, fertilizing them with the gods only knew what.

Through the window the sky was already full of fluffy white clouds. It made it hard to be too glum. Soon the sun would be shining brightly over Varese. It was a new day, Monday was a new week, and there was still time for someone to knock Terrasen out of the winning streak that had been going on for the last two years before Rowan had to face them in a few months.

“Your girl left about an hour ago, if you were wondering.” He was, but instead of saying so he just grunted a response and headed out the door.

The following week was his normal routine. Rowan returned to Doranelle after spending the rare off-weekend down in Varese. More than once he had tried to pry details from Connall about if Aelin had been back to the bar or not. Apparently she hadn’t, but his friend swore to let him know if she did. It had been five days and she hadn’t been seen. Was it pathetic the way he wished he had a way to contact her? Definitely. But there was something about her that he couldn’t shake, that he refused to let fade into the recesses of his mind.

On the sixth day since meeting her, not that he was counting, he’d carried his laundry hamper downstairs to throw in the wash. Out of habit, he patted down the pockets of all his pants. Rowan had learned the hard way a few years ago that not doing so resulted in very expensive headphones being ruined in the wash. Could he afford another pair? Of course he could, but it was a waste of money when he could simply not wash them and not have to spend two hundred dollars for no reason.

There was a soft crinkling in the pocket of his jeans, one that he barely noticed. They were already halfway into the washer when Rowan fished out the folded piece of paper. Merely a receipt from any of the establishments he visited last weekend, he tossed it on top of the dryer while he finished loading the rest of the clothes and tossed in the detergent. He swiped it up again to throw away on his way out. For reasons unbeknownst to him, he decided to look at it before trashing it. Just to make sure it wasn’t from anything he might need to return later.

When he unfolded it and saw the writing over the top of a faded credit card transaction, his heart stopped beating. It wasn’t a receipt. Well, it was, but nothing that he had purchased. It was a note written in blue pen, words a little smudged from being folded up before the ink had fully dried. Each letter was in swooping, sloping, cursive letters with a little heart underneath.

Just in case you need to release some more tension. I know I do. - A

The short message was followed by a series of numbers, and Rowan had never in his entire life scrambled so hard to put a contact into his phone. A tattooed finger traced over the numbers, lips mouthing the numbers in an attempt to double check himself. Without giving himself a single heartbeat to change his mind or chicken out, he pressed call.

By now she could have forgotten about him entirely. Maybe she wasn’t interested anymore, or perhaps it had taken him too long to reach out. He did have a good reason for the latter, but she might not see it that way. There was hope that she would, though. Everything about her had seemed easy going and he doubted she would be mad that she sent him on a scavenger hunt with no directions. Maybe if he wore normal clothes instead of athletic shorts or sweats more often he would have found it sooner. It was too late to change that now, though. Impatient fingers drummed atop the counter while it rang, and rang, and rang.

Her voice chirped through the speaker, but when he opened his mouth to speak he realized it was just the recording of her voicemail. Her accent, so different from his but lovely all the same said in a teasing tone, “While it is your absolute utmost misfortune to have missed me, leave a message and I’ll call you back. Unless it’s about work. Call my work phone and we’ll talk about it.”

Rowan had never wished so badly to have someone’s business line in his life, but he still patiently waited for the beep. His heart was a stampede of wild horses while he waited for the beep. As soon as it sounded, he cleared his throat and immediately grimaced at himself. Idiot. Why didn’t he do that before it started recording?

“Aelin, it’s Rowan. I’m sorry it took me so long to call, but someone hid her phone number in the back pocket of my jeans and I just got around to doing laundry. I’m not in Varese this week, I’m actually in Doranelle for work. But I should be back in town soon, maybe next week, I–” The voicemail beeped, declaring the message was fully recorded and he swore colorfully as he ended the call.

With a mind of their own, his fingers opened a new text thread and shot off a message: My voicemail got cut off, but I’d love to see you again. Let me know if you’re up for it. xx

After pressing send, he cringed. Since when did he sign off a text message with an x? Much less two of them? He’d spent one night with the woman and now he could barely figure out which way was up and which was down.

Sure, he had been out of the dating game for quite some time, but he didn’t have to sound like he was. The last time he flirted intentionally had been years ago. Every other encounter had been random hookups in random cities across the world where he didn’t have to worry about following up.

Except that this time, he wanted to. There had been so much ease when he talked to her, the flirting had come naturally. It hadn’t even been wholly intentional to begin with. Rowan had never used talking about soccer as a seduction technique, but it had clearly worked on her somehow. The banter they’d shared back and forth displayed a unique type of chemistry he hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever. He could only hope that she felt the same way and still wanted to do it all over again, too.

~*~

“I really like everything you have here, but–”

“It’s not great,” Luca interrupted, his shoulders sagging while he waited for the sharp edge of disappointment. Aelin’s lips pursed as she looked at the young man. Luca was fresh out of college as a graphic designer, and working for the Fireheart Art Foundation was his first real world job post-graduation. It made her simultaneously want to berate the insecurity out of him and comfort him by how traumatized he was from difficult professors in college.

“I was just going to say that I want this header font to be white.” She gave him a look that portrayed exactly how she felt about how hard he tended to be on himself. “I wouldn’t have hired you to work in this office if I thought you needed to be micromanaged.”

Luca let out a breath, nodding and sinking into one of the chairs across from her desk. Nervous hands ran up and down his thighs like he was shaking out the nerves. She understood. The feeling of mountains of pressure on you and like you had no room for error was a familiar one. Helas below, she felt like that right now. Aelin was in her mid-twenties and running a charity and she refused to let it fail.

“I just want to do a good job.”

“And you are, my friend. I chose you and your portfolio of work out of a lineup of seasoned professionals. You bring something new, young, and fresh to the table. Your lack of experience doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing a good job. It just means that you’re still learning, and I want to help you with that. You don’t need to be nervous to show me something that you’ve created. If something needs to be tweaked, obviously I’m going to tell you. But you understand the brand I’m building and the image I’m putting out almost as well as I do. Be more kind to yourself,” she said gently, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

“You are nothing like what my professors said future bosses would be like.” Aelin laughed at the same time her personal phone started buzzing on her desk. She didn’t recognize the number and it was silenced as she handed the tablet back over to Luca.

“I sure hope not. While I have a specific vision of things, I want you to use your creativity and have fun with it. I’m never going to give you a list of a hundred specifications. I’ll tell you what needs to be included and let you take your knowledge of our company plus your creativity so you create something you’re proud of. When you eventually move on from Fireheart, I don’t want you to have a stack of things you made for us that you aren’t proud of to show off. Okay?” Aelin’s phone pinged with a new voicemail from whoever had been calling and sighed. “Email me the file after you change the header.”

Luca gave a mock salute and flipped the tablet case closed, walking toward the door and shutting it behind him. Aelin let out a content sigh in the silence, leaning her head against the back of her hair while she gazed out the window at the city below her. She let it sink in, the work she was beginning in a new country on a different continent, an ocean away from home.

It was easy to allow herself to feel pride in the foundation, an idea she brought to her parents a few years ago. The Fireheart Foundation began three years ago when she was twenty-two. What started as an idea to work with local underprivileged youth in Orynth soon blossomed into two, then three, then four offices scattered over Terrasen. Her home country had always taken huge pride in the arts– Orynth itself was huge on the importance of it for its young citizens. The rest of the world shared those sentiments because by its second year they were receiving global recognition. Now, on the eve of its third birthday, Aelin was expanding to Wendlyn: her mother’s home country.

She had plenty of family in Varese. Most of Evalin’s family still lived here, Aelin’s grandparents included. Ever the proud grandfather, Ciaran Ashryver had been beyond excited to help her find an apartment until the end of November, locate appropriate office space, and had started putting out a few feelers for potential employees almost as soon as she mentioned the idea. By the time she stepped off her plane, she was all set with somewhere to live and a floor in a building downtown to begin working.

A handful of employees from the other locations in Terrasen had arrived this morning to be hands on in helping train some of the Varese staff. New members to this office were taking positions that needed little actual training and something more like direct guidance from Aelin. Like Luca and his graphic design. He didn’t need to be trained how to do his job, just needed the push to grow into his full potential.

Aelin’s thoughts were tugged back to reality when another small vibration from her phone had her reaching for it. Ah, right. The missed call, voicemail, and now text message from the number she didn’t know. It was a local area code– probably a new employee getting her their contact information like she’d requested.

As soon as she saw the message preview, though, she was quick to unlock the screen. With arms braced on her desk, she scanned the message with a growing smile on her face. Rowan. He had finally found the note, it seemed. No time was wasted in saving his number to her contacts and tapping furiously to get to the voicemail.

When Rowan was cut off mid-sentence, she laughed out loud. It was really more of a school girl’s giggle than anything, relief that he had not just texted, but called, too. It made warmth flood from her toes to her fingertips. There had just been something about him, about their matching wit and seductive teasing that left her craving more. For the first time in an extremely long time, it hadn’t felt like it was just about sex. Despite how she had kept everyone at arm’s length and refused to let them get close since her relationship with Sam had ended so poorly, things with Rowan had been different since the moment he sat beside her at that bar. It didn’t mean it would go anywhere besides a fun fling, but a kernel of hope still flickered in her chest.

She tried to think about what Lysandra would tell her to do: how long she should wait to text him back, what the rules were. It had already been nearly a week, though. Hadn’t there been enough waiting on both parts? His voicemail had sounded rushed enough that it was like he was impatient to talk to her again, too. The follow up text practically proved it. No, she wouldn’t follow silly hard-to-get dating rules. Maybe she didn’t want to be hard to get. Besides, she was only here for a few more months. It likely wouldn’t lead to anything serious, and there was no harm in having fun while she was here.

That is what Lys would want for her. Something fun and easy that she didn’t have to think too much about. That would give her release from the insanity of running an international foundation with little outside help. Having made up her mind, she tapped his contact and hit the call button.

“Aelin?” Her name was breathless on his tongue when he picked up after the third ring. With a brow furrowed in curiosity and a small smile resting on her lips, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to ignore the somersault her stomach lurched into when he said her name.

“Rowan,” Aelin drawled, entirely positive that he sighed with what sounded like relief. “Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound–”

“No, I was just– no. This is good. Perfect time, actually.”

“Are you sure?” She heard rustling on the other end, like maybe he was adjusting himself where he sat.

“Is it embarrassing and off-putting if I tell you I lunged for my phone when I heard it ringing? I was in my bedroom and jumped onto the couch to get it before it stopped.”

“What if it hadn’t been me calling back? Did you even check the caller ID?” The laughter that bubbled out of her was entirely involuntary. Having a man that excited to talk to her was so sweet it made her teeth ache. When had anyone ever been so forthcoming with any level of affection for her? Dorian, probably, but that was a relationship based solely on fun and most of the time he was teasing.

“No,” he grumbled. “I would have disconnected the call as soon as I got a denial it wasn’t you.”

“That is the most adorable thing a man has ever said to me,” she vowed, her hand resting on her stomach to calm the swarm of butterflies within.

“I’m not doing an absolute shite job, then?” There was a timidness to his voice that made her heart squeeze. What on earth did he have to be nervous about?

“I called you back, didn’t I?” She teased, but when he didn’t answer and seemed to be waiting for a genuine response, she assured him that he was doing absolutely perfect.

~*~

“Who the fuck has you smiling, Whitethorn?” Lorcan Salvaterre whipped his towel out to smack Rowan directly in the stomach. He immediately frowned, locked his phone, and rubbed the spot above his belly button the corner of the towel had popped. Lorcan tossed the weapon over his shoulder, sitting down on the bench in front of his cubby. The wet, dark curtain of hair hung around his face as he bent down to start shoving his match gear into the bag at his feet.

“Nobody.”

“That’s a lie,” Fenrys quipped from behind them. Rowan glared over his shoulder, knowing full well that the blonde was in complete cahoots with his twin brother. Evidently Connall had told him everything. How Fen had managed to keep his mouth shut about it all week was entirely beyond him. If it hadn’t been about his personal life, Rowan might have been impressed with his self control. “He met a girl.”

Lorcan’s head swung around, eyebrows raised high as he said, “Did we not learn our lesson from the last jersey chaser?”

With a scowl pulling his entire face into a frown, Rowan shook his head. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t even know who I am. To be entirely honest, I don’t think she would have talked to me if I hadn’t saved her from one of Con’s mystery cocktails.”

At that, Lorcan winced. Just like he’d told Aelin, they were all too familiar with those special drinks. It didn’t matter how impressive one’s alcohol tolerance was, no one was safe. Rowan distinctly remembered a time several years back when he had to tie Lorcan’s black hair out of his face to avoid it getting in the toilet. Everyone was pretty sure he had alcohol poisoning that night, but it wasn’t totally Connall’s fault, either. Lorcan had said he could handle it. The joke was on him at the end of the night, though. Nobody could handle them as delicious as they might be. Those fuckers were dangerous.

“Met her at the pub then?” Lorcan’s eyes were full of hesitancy and skepticism as he spoke. It seemed like he was choosing his words carefully. That topic was a tedious tightrope to walk, one that had ended in Rowan shutting down completely more than once.

“She gave me a lot of shit about ‘soccer.’ We talked through most of the Orynth and Red Desert game.”

“And then Rowan took her upstairs and–” A sweaty pair of shorts hit Fenrys directly in the face, cutting him off with a violent gag. Always the drama king. “I just showered.”

“That’s enough out of you, boyo,” Rowan said in a tone that meant shut up or it will be my fist next time. A few of their other teammates filtered from the showers, several of them claiming they needed full body massages STAT. Rowan was inclined to agree, but he had better things to do tonight. They had won their match against Adarlan and he was feeling lucky all around.

“You’re not… worried?” Lorcan was pulling on a fresh pair of socks as Rowan sat on the bench beside him, jaw tight. This was not something he wanted to think about right now. Aelin gave no indications that she knew who he was, and most of the girls that fawned after them for being professional athletes couldn’t make it through a whole conversation without expressing what huge fans they were. As if their obsession with his body would make him more likely to sleep with them. It was a trick that worked when he was young and stupid, but now that he was older it was just… violating.

No, he wasn’t skeptical. It had been two weeks and soccer had only come up in the form of jokes between conversations that ranged from casual to toeing the deep-and-personal line. Their texts were as constant through the day as they could be with them both working. At night when they were both available and Rowan wasn’t completely wiped out from practice, they would have hours-long phone calls. Last night Aelin had fallen asleep mid-sentence, like she couldn’t stand to say goodnight to him even though she needed to sleep. When he realized she had dozed off, nothing but the soft huffs of her breathing coming through his speaker, he’d quietly wished sweet dreams upon her before hanging up.

Her apologies had been profuse throughout the day, but they weren’t needed. It had been a long while since anyone had taken the time to get to know him for him and not one of the world’s best center-forwards. With her, he was just Rowan. No grass-stained jerseys and golden trophies attached. Just the version of himself that he was over ninety percent of the time.

“I’m not worried about that with her. She’s not… like that. I’m going to tell her what I do soon, but for now she thinks I coach at the high school.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He and Lorcan did put on football camps at their old high school in Doranelle over the summer. Tirelessly, they would host two separate camps that lasted for two weeks in June and July. It was part of his job… just not his actual job right this second.

“What does she do?” Fenrys asked, shooting Rowan’s dirty shorts back over to him. He dropped them into his bag and zipped it up, slipping his feet into his slides. Vaughan came out of the showers then, bumping his fist as he passed and muttering that Rowan played well, to which he gave his friend a nod in return.

“Charity work. She teaches piano and dance class at different art programs. For the next few months she’s doing after school lessons in Varese.” Rowan hefted the duffel up onto his shoulder, wincing as he stood. Nothing was hurt, but he wasn’t quite as young as he used to be. While he should probably spend some time in an ice bath to help his muscles recover, it was honestly the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was getting in his car and speeding down the highway to Varese.

“Please tell me you’re not about to get in your car and drive two hours to see a girl you just met immediately after a game,” Lorcan said flatly. Try as he might, it was impossible not to grin. Just a little.

“Hate to disappoint you. Maybe you’ll understand one day when you stop being such a coldhearted dick.” It was a joke, but there was some truth to it. Lorcan had a strict policy about women during game season, and kind of in general. There would be absolutely no distractions for him during the season. He might let off some steam and have random hookups here and there, but the possibility of any sort of real relationship was off the table. During the off-season, he claimed it was time to have fun. Everyone was thoroughly convinced he would never settle down, or that it would take an absolute badass of a woman to turn him into a house-broken man. Rowan wasn’t sure that was possible.

Lorcan grumbled mostly to himself while the rest of their lingering teammates gave Rowan encouraging slaps on the back. While he hated that it was out to his teammates and friends already, he knew it was genuine support. A few years ago he had been through absolute hell and ever since there had been a stormy cloud hovering over his head because of it. Rowan knew Lorcan came from a good place. Everything with Lyria had ended… extremely poorly. Things with Aelin wouldn’t be like that, though. This was different. She was different.

It had been two and a half weeks since the first night, and their budding relationship had been strictly through text messages, phone calls, and the occasional video chat. Rowan hadn’t been able to get back to Varese because of practice, games, and her work schedule. The one night he would have been able to make it into the city, she had called him an hour before he was due to head out and explained that something came up at work that she had to deal with. It had been disappointing, but he understood. If they had lost their game today he wasn’t so sure he would be driving anywhere but home to sulk.

With a shiny new win under his belt, he was eager as he snapped his seatbelt into place and began the two hour drive up to Verese. It would be after ten by the time he finally got there, but Aelin had insisted– was still assuring him– that it was entirely okay. Evidently she would have dinner ready for them when he arrived. His growling stomach could hardly wait.

~*~

Rowan’s muscles throbbed dully when he pulled himself from his car a couple hours later. Thankfully he would have the rest of the night and all day tomorrow to recover before practice. He made a mental note to head in early for a little physical therapy on Monday morning.

The plan was that they would hang out for a little while before Rowan headed to his apartment in the city. While he lived primarily in Doranelle, he liked that he could be a little more low-key in Varese most of the time. It had become his second home, and a few years ago it made sense to get an apartment nearby to avoid having to crash in Connall or Fenrys’s guest room every time he was in town. Tomorrow, Rowan had vowed to show Aelin his favorite spots downtown and a few that he just had an inkling she would like.

Based on their conversations, Aelin had quite the sweet tooth. There was a bakery on 4th avenue that was more than capable of satisfying her cravings. Less than a five minute walk from her office was his favorite coffee shop, and the heart of the city was stuffed to the brim of delicious restaurants and alluring confectionary shops she would love. The weather tomorrow would be absolutely beautiful– the perfect day to stroll downtown before the beginning of another hectic week for Rowan. For her, too, it seemed because she had days where she felt like she was putting out little fires everywhere.

Double checking the apartment floor and number Aelin had sent over earlier that afternoon, Rowan began his climb up the stairs. It was an older building with the elevator apparently in a constant out-of-order state since she had moved in. She had both complained and apologized about it in advance, but Rowan was used to running up and down the stands during practice that it didn’t really matter.

Despite being a century old, the building had character and hadn’t slipped from its former glory. The floors were black and white marble, the wood of the staircase a deep mahogany. Gold accents were littered throughout in vases, frames, and wall sconces. Just inside the front door a glittering chandelier reflected small rainbows along the walls and floor through the crystals that dangled from its arms. Even if Rowan hadn’t known its historic significance, it was easy to imagine how it looked just after it opened. It was still a luxury apartment building, regardless of age.

His thighs ached with the ascent, feeling every stride he had taken on the field a few hours ago. Thankfully he only had to get to the second floor and a few doors down according to Aelin. Gods, he was exhausted. There was little time in a match when Rowan wasn’t on the field and throwing his all into every step he took, every kick that sent the ball flying into the goal with ease. After most games he would soak in an ice bath or get stretched out by one of the trainers, but he’d been entirely too eager to get to Varese to waste any time. Tomorrow he might regret it a little, but he would have regretted not making the drive even more.

It wasn’t until he was standing in front of her door that he started to have a small, momentary bout of panic. How was he supposed to greet her? Did he hug her? Kiss her? They hadn’t discussed it, but then again who plans out a greeting? Rowan wanted to bang his head against the door at the knots this woman twisted his stomach into. He was being ridiculous. Rowan Whitethorn was a thirty-one year old grown man, for wyrd’s sake. Surely he could handle not fucking up as soon as she opened the door.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry. Seconds after knocking, Aelin opened the door and pulled him inside by his fingers, rocking up on her toes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as soon as the door was closed before saying, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, letting her pull him deeper into the apartment.

Rowan had seen the space in the background of their video chats, but it became abundantly clear that Aelin had a taste for opulence. Various pieces of art were framed all over the walls, fresh flowers rested on the table tops. Several jewel-toned rugs lay upon the restored wooden floors and her couch was deep green made of plush velvet. The dining and end tables were golden and topped with marble. Even the blankets over the back of the couch were fluffy fabrics that no doubt felt like being covered with a cloud.

A handful of boxes were still stacked in the corner of the living room, easily visible because of the open floor plan the space offered. To the left, the kitchen boasted marble countertops with golden hardware. Yes, this apartment building was still very much in its golden age, or maybe Aelin was just that skilled with decorating.

Rowan’s was a modern apartment building closer to the business district, but this one honestly blew it out of the water. In the short time she had been there, only a few weeks she had told him, Aelin had managed to make this into a home. It felt lived in and loved, like she had always been here. Despite being able to smell the slightly-musty age of the building, it was buried under layers of jasmine, lemon verbena, and the dinner she had simmering on the stove.

“Ignore the boxes, I’m still waiting for some shelving to come in for my books and things,” she explained with the wave of her hand. As if the stack of boxes could ever take away from the magical oasis she had transformed the apartment into. Compared to this, the house in Doranelle that he had lived in for the last six years was bare and nowhere near a home.

“Are you sure you’ve only been staying here for a few weeks?” Aelin’s laughter was bright as she walked into the kitchen and began mixing the contents of a large pan with a wooden spoon. Aelin’s legs were bare, seemingly nothing beneath the t-shirt that hung to the tops of her thighs.

“I’m a creature of luxury. Besides, I’ll be splitting my time between here and Orynth with work.” It was admirable how much she seemed to love the kids she taught, how passionate she was about her work. Piano and dance lessons couldn’t afford an apartment like this, though. Not when she so proudly supported underprivileged areas of major cities. Rowan was sure her parents had the money to help her out, not that it mattered. That was a conversation for another day, especially when she started plating their dinner. “I hope you like pasta.”

“Are there people that don’t?” He asked, taking both plates from her. Aelin walked past him with a bottle of wine and two glasses, heading for the couch instead of the table.

“It should be a felony, but I’m sure some bizarre creature or a human exists out there, hating pasta with every fiber of their being.” Rowan snorted in response, handing her the plates after she sat down and folded her legs like a pretzel in front of her. The tiniest pair of shorts that he’d ever seen peaked out from beneath the hem of her shirt.

Sitting beside her and taking his plate, he had to fight back a groan when he took the first bite. Aside from his mother, he couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him that didn’t involve a waitress as a go-between. It was nice to feel cared for, he realized. Even if they both knew tonight would end in her bed.

A documentary played while they ate, conversation ebbing and flowing with ease throughout. He managed to get her talking a little more about work, how a coworker named Luca was having a hard time with confidence in what he produced but he didn’t need to be. According to Aelin, he was a brilliant young graphic designer and she hoped that with some nurturing under her wing, he would bloom to his full potential.

When he asked about siblings, she shrugged, “I have a cousin that’s really more like my brother. We’ve been inseparable since the day I was born. Besides him, I’m an only child.”

“So am I, but I have a hoard of cousins. I’m closest to Sellene and Endymion. Sellene would like you.”

“What’s not to like?” She teased, eyes full of mirth as she looked at him over the top of her wine glass. The heat in her eyes gave him a vivid memory of what she had looked like writhing beneath him.

Gods above, he needed to get a grip.

Aelin listened intently while he talked about his mom and dad, Sellene and Endymion. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell when he recounted memories from his childhood and chimed in with her own. Both of them may have been only children, but agreed they’d never felt lonely or alone for the most part.

“There was a period when my cousin went off to college—” she paused for another sip of wine and to place her empty bowl on the coffee table. Rowan did the same. “That was the only time I felt lonely. He’s four years older than me, so it was hard to go through my entire high school experience with him not quite as close. He actually went to college in Doranelle and could only really come home for holidays. He surprised me for my 16th birthday and it was the best one I’ve ever had.”

There was a small smile on her lips before she continued, “My parents had a limo for me and my friends to ride to the venue it was at, and I got in the car and the partition was lowered. The driver was wearing a hat and aviators, straight out of a movie. And then he said I hear we have a birthday girl in our midst and I knew it was him. I completely lost it. Best present ever.” Rowan found himself grinning along with her, her joy at the memory contagious to his core.

“You’re lucky you didn’t have cousins that terrorized you until you were big enough to fight back.” That had been the general tone of his upbringing, but once he went through puberty and grew well over six feet tall, the teasing had calmed down a bit. Probably because Rowan could easily throw Enda over his shoulder by the point.

“Oh, gods. Believe me, we have been through it. There were times when he was annoyed that I wanted to do everything he did, and times when I was annoyed that he tried to embarrass me in front of my friends or boys that I liked. He used to sit on me and tickle me until I cried and we were constantly trying to flick each other until we were bruised like peaches. Typical sibling stuff.”

Rowan laughed, nodding as he recalled having very similar memories with Enda specifically. He could relate to the ones based in annoyance— Sellene had been a hellion.

“Sellene used to embarrass me in front of pretty girls, too. Not that I needed help in that department. I do fine enough on my own to this day, but seventeen year old Rowan didn’t know how to talk to women at all.”

“You’ve done alright with me.” Aelin’s small hand reached for his, lacing their fingers like she had done it a million times. Her nose wrinkled as she grinned, and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. Godsdamn, this woman.

“I wouldn’t be so lucky if we were in high school.” At that, she laughed, making a teasing quip about his rushed voicemail and stilted text message. At the end, she reassured him it was charming and that he wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think so.

“Some people struggle digitally. I won’t hold it to you, old man.” Rowan flicked her knee at the moniker, but couldn’t repress the smile on his lips all the same.

~*~

“Rowan,” Aelin said softly, rubbing her eyes and sitting up on the couch. The man behind her released a low groan as his arm tried to pull her back down.

After talking for what must have been hours, they settled on watching New Girl and had, apparently, fallen asleep not too long after it started. A wide yawn escaped her as she patted his thigh a few times to rouse him awake.

“Shit, what time is it?” Rowan forced himself to sit up behind her, knocking his elbow into her shoulder in the process. Instead of cowering in pain, she started to giggle through the sleepy fog. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt,” she promised, tapping the screen of her phone. “It’s almost five.”

“I can go. I didn’t mean to fall—”

“I’m not waking you up to kick you out. I’m waking you up to come to bed with me.” Aelin stood, holding out her hand. Once she had both of his hands in hers she began to tug, taking steps backward while he pretended to protest by going nearly entirely limp against the couch. “You can sleep by yourself out here, it’s fine.”

Dropping both of his hands she turned and made her way toward her bedroom. Aelin had only made it a handful of feet away before strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Rowan pressed soft kisses against her neck at the same time he lifted her entirely off the floor. Stomach flipping, she squealed while he padded toward her bedroom, finally placing her down on the bed.

She was quick to crawl under the blankets, flipping them back so he could get in with her. He followed dutifully, slinging his shirt off and tossing it onto a little chair in the corner of her room as he sank down until his head rested against the pillow.

Despite how easy it would be for either of them to roll onto the other and make the other unravel at the seams, she gently pecked his lips a few times. Each one lingered a little more than the last until she finally pulled away and rested her head against his chest. With his hand rubbing soothing lines up and down her back, it was easy to melt into him, eyes drifting shut as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that smelled like home. @elentiyawhitethornorn @autumnbabylonylon @fancysludgeshoelampelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-lifee @the-hospitality-of-knivesf-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior

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imightgetbetter · 2 years

Text

might get better

this has been the most requested story on this blog pretty much since i started writing for this series-ish story. i understand how heavy this topic is, and very much understand the severity of it. i'm not writing anything to make light of it or to minimize it or romanticize it, which is why nothing is explicitly mentioned or detailed, it pretty much beats around the bush but you know what's going on, you know what's being talked about. with that being said, if you are not comfortable even thinking about addiction, don't read this. obviously, there is a happy ending, but don't put yourself through anything you don't need to. i encourage you to leave kind messages and thoughts, if you're going to be mean, please think twice. this is a longer piece, over four thousand words, so also keep that in mind. i hope i did this justice. thank you for reading. cw: mentions of addiction, angst

Matty is tickling Attie in your bedroom, you can hear her tiny giggles echoing around the room. He’s just stepped away from getting ready with you, nearly fully dressed, his hair perfectly curled and styled, hanging loosely on his forehead. Attie is off with Adam and Carly for the night, and you can feel your heart twisting thinking about leaving her when you’re about to celebrate something so amazing in your career. Matty will be by your side, but you want Attie to know that you’ve done this, that all those hours spend nursing her in front of the computer screen led to this, led to a moment that you pray she’s proud of you for. Matty’s laughter is what draws you away from the bathroom mirror and your thoughts, your head peeking around the doorframe and watching the two of them. His relationship with her is everything you dreamt of, and it’s hard to think about where you were so long ago, about what you said to him. Tonight is a reminder of those moments, of the darkest times in your relationship, and the way you and Matty had to work really hard to get things to where they are now.

“Attie, look at how pretty Mummy is,” Matty says suddenly, lifting Attie onto his waist and walking into the bathroom, the three of you standing side by side in the mirror. “You look so incredible, my love. I can’t believe you’re all mine, tonight.” His lips touch your hair as you blush, his hands gently setting Attie on her feet and telling her to go play before turning towards you. “You’re all in your head. Get out of there.”

“You have said on multiple occasions that you want to be inside my head,” you say, tilting your head in his hands and looking at him, your whole body relaxing under his gaze. “I’m scared.”

“Of?”

“Of everything,” you whisper, closing your eyes and leaning your head barely against his chest, afraid of getting makeup on his suit. “I wrote this novel in the worst time in our lives and I rewrote it when I was in the midst of all the postpartum emotions with Attie. I just, what if everyone thinks I don’t deserve it?” Matty’s eyes are burning into yours as you spill out every thought in your head, just as he always asks you to do. “I’m really scared that even with what I wrote, even with what I say, I haven’t done for our story what it deserves.”

“Gorgeous, are you listening to me?” Matty says, waiting for you to nod quietly before continuing. “That work of art you created, that tells the story of what someone goes through when they love someone that’s an addict, it’s something not many people could do. You,” he says with a wetness to his voice that makes you want to cry, “you told our story with such grace and love and care, and I couldn’t have pictured it being written any other way. You deserve all the praise in the world. I won’t listen to you say anything less than that.”

“I love you,” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly, his arms squeezing around your waist. Matty hums against you, holding you against his chest. “You look so handsome. I’m going to take advantage of you later.”

“Oh? You’re going to take advantage of me?” Matty smirks against your neck, kissing you repeatedly. He laughs when you nod against him, hiding his face in your neck as you sway back and forth for a moment. “Attie is too quiet. I should go check on her before we find her hanging from a chandelier with Mayhem.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you laugh, reluctantly pulling away from him and patting his backside on the way out the door. “I love you.”

“I love you more, beautiful,” Matty grins, winking at you as he walks out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, searching around for your daughter. “Attie James! Are you hanging from the ceiling, again?”

Matty’s voice echoes around the house, and you can hear Attie’s tiny, mischievous giggles filtering in after him. He is the best father. Quite honestly, better than you imagined him to be when you found out you were pregnant a few years ago. Attie adores him, and you are certain you’ve never been more in love with him. And yet, Matty somehow challenges that idea, every single day. Hearing him, seeing him with your daughter, it’s hard to believe there was ever a moment in your life where you questioned being with him, where you said that he wouldn’t make a partner and a good parent. It’s hard to believe that there was a time where you had left.

All the things you said all those years ago still linger, albeit in a different capacity, but the reminder of what was is weighing heavily on you as you prepare yourself to giving a speech about the very worst moment in your life, the moments you told Matty that you were leaving.

Only ten feet stand between the base of the stairs and the front door. Only ten feet stand between where you are and where the jingling keys are making noise from outside. Only ten feet.

Only ten feet that feels like twenty, especially when it’s been hours since Matty was meant to come home, hours since your meeting with your agent and editor – a meeting he was meant to be at – and hours since you got home alone to an empty house.

Matty stumbles in over the welcome mat, swearing under his breath as he tosses his keys on the side table and toes off his shoes. He brushes his hair back away from his forehead before looking up and seeing you. He jumps, “Fucking hell, YN. You scared me.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you say first, your eyes cast on your arms folded over your knees. You never thought you’d have to say these words, not to him, and they feel heavy and foreign on your tongue. “Are you cheating on me?”

Matty rubs his hands over his face, “What?”

“Are you cheating on me?” you say again wiping the tears from your face and standing upright, your arms folded over your chest. He is standing too far from you, but you need him to stay there, you can’t give in, you can’t forget how you’re feeling. “Just tell me.”

“No! I’m not cheating on you. Why would you even say that?”

“Why would I even say that,” you laugh sarcastically, shaking your head as you climb off the stairs and stand in front of him. “You missed a really important dinner, tonight. Did you forget that?”

“Shit.”

“That’s all you have to say? Shit?” you say angrily, your eyes welling with tears as you watch him try to collect his thoughts. He’s been different for a while, you knew this, you were just getting painfully good at pretending he wasn’t. He reaches out to you, and you know what will happen. You know you’ll give in. You turn away, storming up the stairs, the tears falling freely down your cheeks as you rush into the bedroom and quickly grab a bag from your side of the closet. Matty follows you, quickly and panicked up the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” you lie, trying desperately not to tell him. He’ll find out eventually. Everyone knows where you’re going. Everyone but him.

“All because I missed your dinner?”

“No, Matty. Not because of the fucking dinner.” His eyes are welling with tears when you turn to face him, the clothes thrown into your bag a messy array of things you could pull from your dresser. “You’re lying to me. You’re lying to everyone. You come home late. No one knows where you are.”

“I’m not cheating on you. I swear.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I had a long day. Can we please do this tomorrow? I have a headache,” Matty grumbles, walking deeper into the bedroom and reaching for your bag. Quickly, you pull it away, zipping it up and tossing it towards the door. “Don’t start driving now. It’s late.” Matty grabs your wrist and turns you around, and the words bubbling in your throat escape before you can stop yourself.

“You would make a terrible father, Matty.”

Matty’s hand suddenly goes limp around your wrist. “Hold on a second.”

You grab the duffle bag quickly, slinging it over your shoulder and walking towards the door, stopping momentarily to say, “If by some chance I am pregnant, and you better pray to a god that I am not, you are taking me to take care of it and then we’re done. I’m done with you.”

“You think you’re pregnant?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh wetly, shaking your head and drying your eyes quickly, “you are such an asshole. You are such an asshole and I can’t believe I love you.” Your eyes are hazy when you hurry down the stairs and grab your keys from the side table, his footsteps hurrying behind you.

Matty follows you out to your car, holding the door open when you get into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “Can you pause for just a second? You think you’re pregnant?” His eyes are returning to their typical softness, to the honey color that you adore. “Why do you want to get rid of it? Why didn’t you tell me? Why can’t we talk about this?”

“I can’t talk to you,” you cry, harshly wiping your cheeks and trying to stare in front of you, not daring to look at him.

“YN, we don’t have do anything drastic. Having a baby is something we talked about, you know? Okay, so, we get married and all that a bit earlier than we planned. Why’s that such an issue?”

“Wow,” you whisper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding as you swallow back a fresh set of tears. “My big proposal is because my strung out boyfriend might’ve gotten me pregnant. Very romantic.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m tripping over my words.”

“How did you mean it? Getting married because you think I might be pregnant. That’s pretty much it, Matty. I don’t know about you, but that’s not how I pictured us getting married. Especially not with you out of your mind like how you are, right now.”

“Come inside and we’ll go to sleep and wake up and talk about this,” Matty says softly, gently laying his hand on yours on the steering wheel. “Please, baby.”

“No, I can’t even look at you,” you say, and you can know what you have to say, you know the words that need to be said for him to get his head on straight, but you don’t want to tell him, you don’t want to say a thing. “Maybe losing me doesn’t matter, but maybe losing your friends will.”

“You can’t tell them, YN. It was only one time.”

“Why not? Why can’t I tell them? Especially since you just keep lying to me.” Matty pulls his hand away from you, and for the first time, you look at him, and you see that he’s crying, too. “I already told them. Maybe you don’t give a fuck about me, but I know you care about them.”

“Don’t do this. I thought you were on my side.”

“No, I am not on your side for this, Matty,” you say, the words on your tongue feeling like bile in your throat. “I’m not on your side, because whatever is going on is making me fall out of love with you.” Matty steps back, and you take the opportunity to shut the door, the tears on your cheeks blinding you as you reverse out of the driveway and pull away as fast as possible.

Matty is standing at the edge of the driveway as you pull away, his figure growing smaller and smaller as you watch him in the rear view mirror. He doesn’t take long to rush to his phone and start calling you, and you have to force yourself to turn off your phone. He’s going to find you eventually, it won’t take very long to figure out that you’ve hidden yourself at George’s, but you need time to think, and to sort out what you’re going to say to him when he finally reaches out.

George gets a call rather quickly, as you both anticipated. He says that he doesn’t know where you are, that he hasn’t heard from you, all while you’re sitting in a pile under blankets on his couch. He offers you a sweatshirt, but you decline, taking one of Matty’s out of your bag and bringing it over yourself. His is bigger on you, warm around your body. His smells like him, like him before all this. George’s words are drowned out in your head, a mess of syllables as you listen to him argue about why Matty can’t come over. He must’ve agreed, because George hangs up the phone and comes and sits beside you, patting your knee soothingly.

“I think you should go into my room, love,” George says softly, his hand held out for yours and encouraging you to stand. “I don’t know how ugly this is going to get. Adam and Ross are coming, now. I just, I don’t know what he’s going to say and I don’t want you to hear something you shouldn’t. He’s not all there right now, you know? He probably doesn’t mean half the things he’s saying.”

“I don’t want to hide,” you say brokenly, a voice coming from you that you don’t even recognize. “He should know that I’m going to leave, if he doesn’t listen to you, to us.”

George nods and stands, walking towards the front door and letting Adam and Ross inside, the stars shining through the drawn curtains. All of you look like you haven’t slept in days, and you wonder if they haven’t, if this has been affecting them the way it’s been affecting you. Adam sits with you for a while, for the time while they wait for Matty to knock on the door. His knocks are loud and angry, startling you from your blanketed cocoon on the couch.

Matty and George’s voices are loud from the entryway, and you can feel Adam stand on his feet and Ross move closer to you, standing in front of you to block you from here Matty presumably is storming in.

“What the hell is this?” Matty asks exasperatedly, his curls limply clinging to his forehead with sweat. His looks around the room, staring into the faces of George, Ross, and Adam, and he knows exactly what is happening. “You lot are ridiculous.”

Matty’s reaction is exactly what you anticipated, the denial, the anger. His shouting amongst everyone else’s is deafening and you can feel your head wanting to explode with every raised voice. His arguments and harsh words broke your heart, especially knowing that he doesn’t really mean it. Matty looks between Adam and Ross, addressing you, “You think all this, too? You’re against me, too?”

His words make the air leave your lungs, your body shaky as you stand on your feet. “I have never once been against you, Matty. I love you. I love you and I don’t want to see you ruin your life, ruin my life with whatever the hell you’re doing. I won’t do this. I won’t. You’re making me not love you.” Matty’s eyes instantly wash over, and you grab the blanket to wrap around your body, to hide you from everything you’re feeling. “You have five minutes to figure out what you want to do. They’ll take you somewhere, if you want to. If you don’t, I’m moving out tomorrow and we’re over. I’ll never speak to you again. I mean it. I won’t watch you ruin your life.”

“I’ll go. I’ll go,” Matty says, not giving any option a second thought. His eyes are pouring into yours, seeing if you’re lying, if you’re just trying to trick him. “I’ll go. I’ll do anything.”

“George will take you in the morning,” you say quietly, cocooning the blanket around your body and moving around the guys, trying to make your way out of the room. “I’ll see you before you leave.” Matty is silent as you leave the room and it takes everything in you not to turn around and wrap your arms around him and promise him that everything is going to be okay.

Hours pass slowly through the night, and you’re sure that nothing has ever felt this horribly. Nothing has ever felt as bad as telling the love of your life that you don’t love them anymore. Nothing has ever felt as horrible as looking at the person you love most and knowing that you have to say the worst things imaginable to help them. Hours pass, and before you realize it, the sun is rising and you know that very soon, everyone will be back in the house saying goodbye.

George nods for Ross and Adam to walk out with him, leaving you and Matty by yourselves. Matty stands much too far for your liking, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him to come closer. Matty sighs, taking two steps closer to you, lowering his voice to a whisper when he says, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Am I going to come back to all your stuff moved out?”

“No, not if you take this seriously,” you say, swallowing back your tears and meeting his red-rimmed stare. “I’m not going to do this, again. I’ll do it once. I’ll wait for you one time, Matty.”

Matty steps forward, and you immediately wrap yourself in his arms, holding him tightly against you. His tears wet your sweatshirt, and you can feel the reluctance and fear and shame in the silence. “Have I lost you for good? Can I ever come back from this?”

“You didn’t lose me,” you whisper, pulling away from him reluctantly and grabbing his cheeks. “I love you. Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” Matty says quietly, the tears on his cheeks falling onto the pads of your thumbs. “Can I have one thing before I leave?” He waits for you to nod, knowing what he’s asking for. Matty kisses you gently, a kiss that says everything you can’t, and you savor it, savor it for knowing that when you see him next, things will be different, you’re both going to be different.

“And this year’s Pulitzer Prize goes to YN YLN for A Million Lifetimes.”

Matty stands with you, clapping loudly and whistling as you take a deep breath, holding your speech in your hands tightly, smiling against Matty’s mouth as he kisses you sweetly. “I love you, Sally,” he says with a smile, laughing when you shake your head and smack the papers against his chest.

Counting your steps carefully to the platformed podium, you hold the satin green dress by the hem, trying desperately to avoid tripping yourself. Matty is directly in your line of sight, smiling ear to ear, and you swear you’ve never felt more loved in your entire life. Out in front of you, your speech is laid out, a speech you memorized and repeated over and over again to your agent and editor, trying to perfect it. Taking a breath, you swallow your nerves, locking eyes with Matty and pretending that you’re saying everything to him.

“A Million Lifetimes is not a story I thought of randomly, nor is it a fictional story with no substance or background. A Million Lifetimes is a story close to me, because it is a fictional version of my love story. My love story is much like that of the characters. I fell in love at fifteen. I went away to university. I finally after years and years agreed to date the love of my life, after he had waited for me. I travelled the world with my best friends. I was so unbelievably happy. Knowing that this story is that of my life, also means addiction nearly ruined my relationship, my happiness. Addiction and Mental Health is so rarely talked about candidly, that we always see these stories ending in tragedy, in upset. Not this story. Not my story,” you say, looking away from your paper and looking into the audience, all the thoughtful stares and generous smiles making you feel more comfortable. Matty is staring at you with awe, and you want nothing more than to walk over and bring him on stage and say, This is the love of my life! This is the person that inspires me! This is him! He’s the reason I write and the reason I sing in the kitchen and the reason I want to believe in myself! It’s him! His hand over his heart says enough. “I learned firsthand what it means to love someone with addiction, and I learned firsthand what it means to not give up. Mental Health should be talked about more. Addiction should be talked about more. All of us have platforms and abilities to write and educate, and yet, so many of us don’t. I didn’t. I wrote this story in the height of my emotions when this was happening to me. I rewrote it when I was in the height of postpartum emotions, a few years back.” Matty’s eyes are beating into yours, you can feel it. “I used to think that this book wouldn’t do what it needed to. That I wouldn’t teach anybody anything. And yet, the longer the book is out, the more it’s talked about, the more I realize that my story is teaching people something, anything, and that to me is worth every tear I spent writing. I’ll continue using my voice to teach others, to inspire them to never give up. Most importantly, I want people to know, that the parts of ourselves that we deem unlovable, are always, can always be loved by someone else, even if you don’t believe it.” Matty stands and you lay your hand over your heart, staring at him with a smile. “Thank you to the love of my life, who I have loved since I was fifteen, who has inspired so many of my love stories. Thank you for inspiring my passion for falling in love, day after day. I wouldn’t have written this story without our story, and I am eternally grateful for you trusting me to tell my story.” Matty is crying, now, and you are, too. “Over a decade ago, I wrote on a very cheesy card, I didn’t say I was in love with you, but that doesn’t mean I am not fond of the ground you walk on. I’d wait a lifetime to walk alongside the ground you walk on.”

Ovations after ovations. Matty whistles and there are tears in your eyes and you’re holding your speech in your hand as you walk back to your table, hugging your agents and editors and your publishing house and soaking in every moment until you get to him, until the love of your life is standing in front of you, grabbing your cheeks and bringing your face to his, his nose brushing against yours. “You will forever have a much better way with words than I do, darling.”

“I’d like to think you can compare,” you hum, your eyes tracing his. His eyes are bright, wide, and you can see yourself clearly in them, you can see exactly who he sees – his wife, the mother of his children, his very best friend, his confidant, the one who makes him smile, his very first good morning and very last goodnight, his lover, his laughter, his muse, and inspiration. “I love you, from the very depth of my bones to the tips of my toes.”

Matty kisses you, your cheeks held tightly in his hands. He continues to kiss you, over and over, until he pulls away, only for a moment to say, “I need a million lifetimes with you. One is not simply enough.”

#matty healy #matty healy fic #the 1975 #the 1975 fic

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bluedalahorse · 2 months

Note

Hi Blue!! I’m very interested in the pro choice fic! What is it about?

Okay so this was a post season 2, written pre season 3 fanfic I was working on, and it was quite angsty! Essentially Sara turned out to be pregnant, and decided to get some abortion pills and take them far away from home. She asked Rosh for help, and although Rosh was pissed at Sara, she decided she’d help her all the same. Felice (who was also not talking to Sara) ended up on the journey too. Felice, Rosh, and Sara were the three POV characters, and there would also be bonding, but also a lot of uncomfortable moments and moments of tension, too.

I think I wrote this one in part out of spite, because there were anons arguing that a teen pregnancy plotline would be oh nooooooooooo the worst thing ever, and I was like, hang on, I can actually see one being done well? And fitting into the themes of the show? Since so much of it is about parent-child stuff and cycles of generational trauma. So I started writing.

You can read the beginning of the story over here at this post.

I’m going to include two more excerpts from the story below the cut, just for fun.

Rosh explaining her reasons for helping Sara:

Rosh’s Phone

Messages with Ayub

Rosh: I’m going to be a little further out of range than expected

Rosh: but Sara’s still with me and she hasn’t done anything worrisome

Rosh: you and Simon good?

Ayub: the video games are keeping him busy

Ayub: but he’s pretty pissed you’re hanging with Sara right now, after what she did

Rosh: we’re not exactly hanging

Ayub: I know

Ayub: well. I don’t know. You can’t tell me the details. But I trust you.

Ayub: and I can look after Simon for both of us

Rosh: look I’m pissed too

Rosh: but she came to me, and she asked me to do this favor

Rosh: and I figure I’m being loyal to the part of Simon that wants to keep Sara safe

Rosh: I have to take over that for him, because he has to be angry with her right now

Rosh: and you’re going to stay with Simon and that’s how you and I are going to look after him

Ayub: three musketeers, baby

Ayub: do you think they’ll ever forgive each other?

Rosh: I don’t know

Ayub: I don’t know either

Ayub: …so weird

Rosh: right?

Rosh: anyway we’re ending up at some rich girl’s vacation cabin. Long story as to why but pray for me.

Ayub: I will be disappointed if you don’t come back with china teacups and raised pinkies and opinions on artisanal cheese boards

Rosh: shut up

Ayub: I mean Simon’s going out with the prince of Sweden, you may as well hook up with a golden coffee mine heiress

Rosh: shut UP, when have I ever gone for a posh girl

Rosh: also coffee doesn’t come from mines

Ayub: not with that attitude it doesn’t

Rosh: oh god our best friend really is going out with the prince of Sweden

Rosh: so weird

Ayub: SO WEIRD

Ayub: …do you think he can get us tickets to the Eurovision Song Contest? Or maybe the Stanley Cup?

Ayub: asking for myself

—

Felice and Sara have a really complicated conversation, content note for discussions of upsetting relationship dynamics (incomplete, but you’ll probably get the idea)

Sara plans to sleep that night with a piece of bar soap tucked into her pillowcase. She’s careful to slip it into the pillow she brought with her, instead of one of the pillows she’s borrowed from Felice. When she packed the soap into the very bottom of her backpack this morning, she wrapped it up in a scarf first and then zipped the scarf into a makeup pouch. Whether she’s hiding it from herself or others, Sara doesn’t really know. The soap is the color of eggshells, and weighs about as much as eggshells in her palm. Sara stole it off of August’s sink a few days before they all met in the field with the gun. If he knew about the soap, he never mentioned it or teased her for it.

The soap smells minty in a way that stings Sara’s nostrils. She breathes it in through the t-shirt soft layer of pillowcase, and even though her heart calms, her stomach tightens. Since Sara let a boy rewrite the way her body works, tension travels and transforms inside her in ways she can’t predict.

Of course Sara wishes that she could fall out of love all at once. Most of all, she wishes she could erase falling in love in the first place, for Simon’s sake. After the doctor at the clinic informed her, however, that she would need to take two pills over two days, and that her bleeding would diminish gradually over two weeks, Sara understood. She knows now that she is going to lose a piece of these feelings at a time, that their falling away will be like the erosion of a cliff, rather than a magician’s disappearing act.

When the morning comes, Sara wakes up to Felice sitting beside her. She is briefly hopeful, as Felice encourages her to sit up and hands her a glass of water, that the erosion is something Felice will understand, too.

They don’t talk much, at first. Instead Felice works the tangles out of Sara’s hair with careful fingers. Then, gradually, she begins to braid Sara’s hair, and as she braids she tells stories. There were a few other guys before Hillerska, all of them older. The first used to constantly pressure Felice for blowjobs. Another was a family friend in his first year at university; he was funny and liked to explain to her about the female authors he was reading for classes. He also called her exotic and kept trying to top off her wine glass when they sneaked away from their parents’ dinner parties. The last boy seemed kind and sweet—he had a dog he said he would die for, always texted her pictures—until Felice found out he was keeping a very blonde, very serious girlfriend a secret from her. The summer before Hillerska, Felice had to use emergency contraception after one of her hookups with the third guy. She had another girl buy it for her and smuggled the packaging off to a trash bin in a public park so her parents didn’t find it. She never told the guy.

Sara has heard Felice allude to other guys before, but never these details and personalities. She wonders if their other friends know the stories, and if so, why Felice didn’t tell her.

“Our friendship is still over,” says Felice, as she binds off the end of Sara’s new braid with a hair tie. “I’m just saying, I know it’s scary. I guess I don’t want you to be scared and alone right now.”

“Thank you,” says Sara, and part of her means it.

Another part of her is still at the back of the Bjärstad bus, the rough fuzz of the bus seats pricking at her legs through her school tights. Her fingers are numb and heavy now, just the way they were when she dialed the police that day. She was alone and scared, already. Still is. Sara accepts this as her punishment.

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” Felice says. “About what was happening between you two.”

“I told you, I didn’t know how,” Sara replies. “I know it’s too late for anyone to forgive me.” The phrase I feel like the worst person in the world echoes in her thoughts. She closes her eyes against it, then opens them again.

“If you told me sooner,” says Felice, “We could have done something. I could have given you more time with Rousseau. Your real true love.”

Sara balls her hand into a fist and presses her knuckles gently to Felice’s arm. “Stop that.”

That’s the part that Felice doesn’t get—that the love is the same. Not in the vulgar way TikTokers claim it is, when they’re making fun of horse girls. Only the way there’s an addictive thrill in being the one person who can tame someone known for trouble.

That’s crazy, right? Sometimes Sara is convinced that she’s going crazy.

“I wouldn’t have let Rousseau get sold, at least,” says Felice.

Sara’s stomach lurches. It occurs to her, in that moment, that Felice doesn’t know what happened with Rousseau. Sometimes Sara forgets it herself, it’s so strange. Grand gestures happen in movies, not in real life.

“August bought Rousseau for me,” she says. “From those awful horse people. Not that I accepted—”

“He bought you an entire horse?”

“I said I didn’t accept. I don’t think he knows how to take care of Rousseau.” Sara presses the tail of her braid between her fingers. She presses hard enough to bring pain to her fingertips, so she can block out the image of her horse—whose horse?—alone. “And now he can’t learn how. Not since I… not since the police.”

Felice flops backward onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling.

“He bought you an entire horse. And you were squeamish about the riding pants we got you. So that’s why you let him do anything he wanted?”

“I didn’t, though.”

“Alright. You did report him in the end.”

“He’d done bad things. He hurt people. I had to.”

“So he got you pregnant. Did he try to like—I’m sure he told you it would feel better without a condom. So many guys say that.”

“He never said that. We were always careful. I think one of the condoms must have been defective.”

“You can be honest. Sometimes boys lie, or secretly slip stuff off or—”

“I’m not lying.”

Sara wraps her arms around herself and rests her chin on her knees. She isn’t exactly sure what she’s supposed to say, but she’s fairly sure that whatever she’s saying now isn’t what Felice wants to hear. Maybe the price of forgiveness is pretending she’s been a helpless victim all along. She’s supposed to recite lines about August like: He manipulated me and tricked me. He didn’t let me say no. I was screaming and he put his hands over my mouth. I couldn’t fight back.

That’s easier for Sara’s old friends to swallow than: I saw him take pills and I know he was lying to me about what he was doing but I also planned to ask him about it until he got help. I was sure I could do it because he wasn’t as far along as Pappa, and I know what far along looks like.

Easier than: to be quite honest he treated me like his princess and we took turns doing the rescuing and I liked that and it even kind of turned me on, okay?

Until August took the prince and princess part more literally. Sara keeps reminding herself that she drew her line there, that she was able to put her foot down and refused to go to Valentine’s with him and be publicly recognized for that reason. She reminds herself that she isn’t going to let the tabloids talk about her. That she doesn’t want to live in a toy castle even if the castle is real, even if sometimes it even seems like it would be easier living in a castle than anywhere else.

(August doesn’t actually want that either, right? His words and actions say he does, but Sara also knows his body now. She’s felt how his breathing relaxes in the brief moments that he stops holding himself to royal standards.)

#young royals #sara eriksson #felice ehrencrona #rosh young royals #asks

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