Ada Mae

[brasshighway-579]

ada, 19, entj, taurus, bisexual, ravenclaw

dc, marauders, slytherin boys, sabrina carpenter, haunted mansion, theme park enthusiast, fleetwood mac, animated movie lover

double fandom (dcu and harry potter)

theo’s tesoro | red hood’s princess | clark’s sweetheart | james’s baby

DNI if you support ICE, JKR, or do not support Palestine

Aka @celestial-library

[brasshighway-579]

I need tumblr to have an option where you can customize your like button like laufey on instagram. Imagine how easily abused that would be.

[brasshighway-579]

Hello beautiful people! I am so excited to share my first ever event with you all!!! All of the songs are on my summer playlist. Let me know what you want to see as the first single and if you want to be tagged in anything!! Masterlist will be updated with links as posted

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟷: 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝙽𝚘𝚊𝚑 𝙺𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚝. 𝙹𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚘𝚍d

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟸: 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎’𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝙳𝚓𝚘 𝚏𝚝. 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟹: 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝚈 𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙳! 𝚋𝚢 𝚁𝙰𝚈𝙴 𝚏𝚝. 𝚉𝚞𝚔𝚘

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟺: 𝙵𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚡 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚝. 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟻: 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚖 𝚃𝚘𝚍𝚍 𝚏𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚝

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟼: 𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐’𝚜 𝙾𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚢 𝚁𝙾𝙻𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝙻 𝚏𝚝. 𝙹𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚘𝚍𝚍

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟽: 𝙼𝚢 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚗 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚝. 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟾: 𝚂𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙰 𝚏𝚝. 𝚉𝚞𝚔𝚘

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟿: 𝙱𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚆𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚂𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚝. 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟷𝟶: 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝙾𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚊 𝚁𝚘𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚘 𝚏𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚝

[brasshighway-579]

Stirring up a summer event… would you rather I do like 5-10 long fics or like 15-20 Drabbles?

Fic length?

More short fics

Less long fics

Voting ended onJun 2

[celestial-library]

⋆｡°✩ 𝙰𝚍𝚊’𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

This is one I’ve wanted to read for a while so I was very excited to finally get to it! I think Mary Shelley does a beautiful job crafting this story of love and loss that completely enthralls you and has you thinking for days after.

The Hero of Ages by Brandon Sanderson: ★ ★ ★ ★

This is the final book in the original Mistborn trilogy and I loved and hated finishing it out. Vin is such a powerful character for me. While this wasn’t my favorite book in the trilogy, it was such a strong conclusion that the series will absolutely stay in one of my all time favorites. (Technically I rated it a 4.5, but that didn’t look as nice)

Assistant to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer: ★ ★ ★ ★

After finishing Frankenstein and Mistborn I definitely needed a bit of a lighter read, and Assistant to the Villain delivered in every single way. I devoured this book in about 5 hours, and was laughing the entire time. As someone who’s not a heavy romance reader, I went in skeptical, but I was thoroughly enthused by the antics and compelling storyline.

Apprentice to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer: ★ ★ ★ ★

As before, this book had me laughing all the way through and I couldn’t put it down. I think this was my favorite of the series because of the character growth and the plot impact throughout that both had me at the edge of my seat and falling out of it.

Accomplish to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer: ★ ★ ★

You’ll notice a trend at this point, but legitimately I read all 3 books in 4 days, so I very much recommend. The only reason I rated this book lower was because the change of pace made it a bit harder to follow, but I’m excited to jump back in in August with book 4!

The Things We Leave Unfinished by Rebecca Yarros: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

If you were to see my copy of this book, you’ll also see my plethora of tear stains in the last 10%. Rebecca Yarros proves time and time again why she stays at the front of contemporary romance, and this book sums it up. I legitimately couldn’t put it down. I read the entire book in one sitting and it was SO worth it. I highly recommend and cannot wait to see the film adaptation!

[brasshighway-579]

In case you’re curious about my spottiness on this account, it’s because I spent most of May sitting back and reading- fics and novels alike. My rambles and recommendations can be found on @celestial-library and I would love if you guys would check it out! Officially graduated now, so I’ll definitely have more time to be active on this blog!!

[lookingthroughmirrors]

Most of the songs on the great divide can be about Dick and Jason if you think hard enough

[brasshighway-579]

James: a Laufey Songfic

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: James Potter, your longtime crush, has asked you out! Great! Or… maybe not? Based on Laufey’s James, but with a happier ending.

Pics from Pinterest and divider by @cursed-carmine <3

Noticed you looking, sweetheart ;)

Do you like museums? The one in Hogsmeade is open late tonight. Or we can have a drink or two, no pressure. I’d like to learn about you.

~ James Potter

You felt as though your face had heated by about 100 degrees as you read the note that the James Potter had effortlessly floated to you, hitting the nail square on the head. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t stared at him all semester- his brown hair, his glasses… he was truly perfect in every way, you thought. And on this random Tuesday, some divine spirit had decided it was your time: whether for something good or something horribly embarrassing? you weren’t sure yet.

To be honest, you weren’t even fully aware that James Potter knew who you were. You’d been partnered with his friend, Remus, on a few assignments, but you’d never had a conversation with Potter himself, and he was surely not lacking for female attention.

For a moment, though, you let yourself be hopeful. You smiled at James and nodded quickly, as he floated you over a second note that read, simply, I’ll meet you outside the Three Broomsticks at 7, then. On me.

You smiled again: your friends were surely never going to let you live down the fact that you were going on a date with Griffindor’s Golden Boy, mere days before your houses were set to play against one another in quidditch. You were determined, nonetheless, to let yourself enjoy it.

You made sure to arrive at 7:00 exactly, simply too nervous that being early or late would ruin your chance with the boy you’d been pining after for months. Luckily, true to his word, James was standing right outside that door, and his comfort in the cold weather suggested he hadn’t been waiting long. You smiled at him, and he waved excitedly at you.

“You look stunning,” he said, grinning, as he opened the door for you. “Are you much a butterbeer person? I’m happy to go get our order, if you’re ready.”

“Butterbeer sounds perfect, thank you,” you responded, pulling out a chair at a two person table and laying your coat across the back. “Thank you again, really.”

“It’s no trouble at all, promise. I’ll be right back with that,” he smiled before taking off to the bar.

While he ordered, you let yourself take a moment to process. It was absolutely unreal the number of girls in Hogwarts would hex for a chance at your position, and yet, here you were- a girl he didn’t really know, and yet was lucky enough to catch his attention. It did wonders for your confidence, that was for sure, feeling like a wave of Felix Felicus washing over you, relaxing your shoulders and jaw as he walked back.

“Thank you again,” you smiled gently as he set the butterbeer down in front of you.

“It’s really no trouble. Butterbeer’s probably my favorite treat of all time, I’d have to say. It always makes me feel relaxed after a quidditch game, or a hard exam.”

“You’re a very good quidditch player,” you complimented.

“Thanks,” James grinned. “I like to think so. It’s my absolute favorite, I love flying- not like potions, I despise potions, and anyways, isn’t the point of being a wizard to do wand work? I hardly see the point.”

You laughed then, at James’s ridiculous attitude towards your shared subject, but appreciating and nodding along to his commentary on the feeling and the freedom of flight.

You laughed then. By the end of the date, you didn’t find it so funny. Thirty minutes in, you began to wonder if his voice would ever get hoarse. Or, really, whether he ever got sick of himself. You felt as though you knew everything about him- his family, his friends, the things he hated, what he loved to see most in the great hall, how he felt that the Chudley Cannons were underprojected for the next season as potential winners: which was all very great, really, it was nice to learn about him.

The problem was you could count on 1 hand the number of things he had learned about you. Truly, you could count on zero hands the number of things he had learned about you, with the way you’d yet to get a word in.

Through gritted teeth, you finally said, “That’s great, James, really, but it’s getting a bit late. Maybe we should head back to the castle?” In all honesty, you knew not much time had passed, and your friends would hardly notice you’d been gone at this point, but you weren’t sure how much more of this you could bear.

“Oh, that’s a good point, yeah. I can walk you back, if you’d like?”

“Sure, James. I’d be ok with that,” you sighed, mentally preparing for 10 more minutes of the egotistical whirlwind that was James Potter’s thought process.

Sure enough, that’s what you got, as James prattled about what teams he thought he’d be scouted by next year.

“Not that it really matters, of course,” he added as he turned the corridor towards your house entrance. “I’ll be a millionaire regardless, won’t I?” He grinned again- that stupid, infuriating smirk, that just an hour ago had you melting.

“Yes, well, this is me. I’ve made it very safely and all, so you can… go. Goodnight, James. Thanks for the butterbeer.”

“Of course, goodnight, see you tomorrow!”

He waved feverishly again, as he had at the beginning of your date, and as you climbed the stairs to your dorm you thanked every saint you could think of that he hadn’t tried to kiss you.

“So, how’d it go, mate? Do you like her?” asked Remus, as James settled into bed that night.

“She’s great, honestly. She’s stunning, and so easy to talk to. I’m excited for the second date already- I can’t wait to learn all about her.”

Remus chuckled at that, unaccustomed to his friend’s surprising peace as he came into the room. Typically, after a date, James’s mouth was running at a hundred miles a minute, relaying every single detail until Sirius told him to ‘shut the fuck up before I shove my wand so far up your nose you won’t know where it’s gone’.

“What did you learn about her tonight, then?”, he asked with a smile, prompting discussion.

“Hm? Oh, truthfully, she was very quiet, but that’s what a second date is for, isn’t it?”

Remus’s brows furrowed together as he took in James’s words. “Right. And… what did she learn about you?”

James rattled off several of the things he had shared with you, oblivious to the growing shock in his friend’s eyes and the grit of his teeth as he reached the half way point of his list- nearly two minutes later.

“James,” Remus said shortly, cutting him off. “Do you… honestly think there will be a second date?”

James laughed. “There’s always a second date, silly. Why wouldn’t there be?”

Remus sighed. “Maybe because she was right pissed off with you? I wouldn’t go on a second date with a guy who didn't let me talk, James.”

“It’s not that I didn’t let her talk, it’s just that she didn’t talk, and I didn’t want it to be awkward, so I just kept going and- oh my god. She hates me for sure. Shit, I need to learn how to shut up, Sirius is right, what do I do-”

“Well, firstly,” Remus interjected, “you stop spiraling. And then you send her a letter apologizing for being an idiot so that you can look her in the eyes tomorrow.”

“Right. Ok.”

As you finally settled into bed after recounting the horror of your date with your best friend, the unmistakable tap of an owl’s talon hit against the glass of your window. Opening it, you carefully untied the parchment it carried, reading its contents and laughing quietly to yourself.

Upon further consideration, I have realized that I am the biggest idiot to grace the halls of Hogwarts. While I completely understand if you never want to talk to me again (as you likely had enough of that for one lifetime), I would love to meet you again and get to know you: for real, this time. Maybe we just don’t count this one?

I’ll bring duct tape, if you like. You can slap it over my mouth yourself and I won’t complain.

~ James Potter

[brasshighway-579]

Guys I want more mooties I love having virtual friends

Hmu if youre looking for more fanfic friends in the dcu or Harry Potter universes I WILL YAP

[brasshighway-579]

We leave for Universal Studios WEDNESDAY (I am so excited first of all) but to prep I’ve been reading Harry Potter with my sister before we go. We’re on prisoner of Azkaban and I shit you not this was me when pansy started talking

Like yes obviously she exists in this world? But that whiny bitch is not my girl like

[thebolterx]

Life is unfair because I will never be loved by a tall dark and brooding man who's only soft with me. The audacity.

[brasshighway-579]

All my favorite fic reblogs are going on @celestial-library !!!

[brasshighway-579]

I just finished reading Onyx Storm and oh my LANTA I cannot deal. I’m never reading again (she lies)

I’ve also never related to a character more than violet sorrengail 😔 pray my patience stays intact until TWENTY TWENTY SEVEN.

[jamqyu]

rough night? 🩸

[brasshighway-579]

I’m fucking barking.

[brasshighway-579]

My sister is watching through liv and Maddie and…

PARKER IS SO BABY DAMI I CANT. The aggressive cynicism sells it its lit how i picture him when im reading a Batfam fic

[brasshighway-579]

Clark Kent Masterlist

Standalone Works

Almost Pretend

Divider by @saradika-graphics <3

[brasshighway-579]

Almost Pretend | Clark Kent

Summary: Sometimes it’s easier to fake an entire relationship than it is to argue with your sister, and Clark is more than ready to oblige.

Word Count: 2183

“Hey, sissy! You weren’t responding to my texts, but I wanted to remind you I went vegetarian recently, and was wondering if you wanted me to bring any food options with me? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

In truth, you thought, as you reassured your sister that there would be more than enough meatless options for her to eat during her stay, you had completely forgotten she was planning on visiting at all. Work had been hectic, you had been frazzled, and it was less than 48 hours until your no-longer-little sister stepped foot in Metropolis. There was so much left to do. You had to deep clean your apartment, prepare the spare bedroom, meal plan around her vegetarianism… A one-week visit shouldn't feel like a major performance, yet the need to present the 'perfect' Metropolis life—a deep-cleaned apartment, a stocked pantry, an effortless success—pressed down on you, urging you to end the call and start tackling the list of self-inflicted chores.

“Oh! Sissy. One more thing I should warn you about before I get there,” your sister laughed. Suddenly, your phone buzzed as if you were getting a different call, startling you as you realized it was your sister's request to switch to FaceTime. You pressed the green button, mentally preparing yourself to be on the phone for another 30 minutes if she felt the need to switch to FaceTime.

You weren’t sure what you had expected her ‘warning’ to be, but a four-carat diamond ring, sparkling aggressively under the phone's camera light, was certainly not it. It was the physical proof that your little sister was, once again, leaps and bounds ahead. Unable to mask your surprise, your jaw dropped.

“Surprise,” she giggled. “He officially asked last night! Isn’t that so exciting?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” you replied, a bit stunned. “I mean… maybe this is absolutely insane of me to say, but… does it feel at all soon to you? I don’t know, you’re still so young- and Brian’s obviously a good guy, but you know what I mean-”

“Sissy,” she stops you. “I’m 24. We’ve been dating for 3 years. It’s not much of a rush.”

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

“That’s ok! I had a feeling you might be surprised. And I know it’s been a while since you dated, so I can’t blame you.”

“Who says?”

“Babe, it’s not exactly a secret. You haven’t dated anyone- at least not seriously- since you moved… What, 4 years ago now?”

“Well…” you faltered, briefly panicked by your perceived inadequacies in comparison to your younger sister. “Things can change.” You tried to sound confident, but your tone reflected anything but.

“Oh! Well, that’s exciting! I’ll get to meet him, I hope? Is he ok with you living with that… that Chris guy? I mean, I know he’s super nice, and you guys are like, besties, but I just know Brian wouldn’t really love if I lived with another guy.”

“Clark. And I don’t think he has much of a problem with it, no,” you winced, frustrated at yourself for your accidental, cowardly lie. You had awarded yourself exactly 48 hours to either play along with or correct it, and you’d just sealed the deal.

“Well, that’s positive… surprising, but positive. Do they know each other? Are they friends? WAIT. Pause. Don’t tell me! The guy you’re dating IS Clint! Ohmygosh, that is so exciting! I can’t wait to hear exactly how it started.”

Shit.

“Ha! Yeah, ok, well, I have some work to get done, but I’ll see you so soon!”

“You’re so right, I’m keeping you! See you in a couple days! Love you, bye!”

“Love you too-” you tried to respond, but heard the ringing of the end of the call before you could even finish what you were saying.

Your sister had always been… a rambler, to say the least, and it was one of the many reasons people loved her. Sometimes, though, it was easy for her to talk you into a corner. You couldn’t exactly hold frustration over her when you knew, at her core, she truly did want only the best for you. She happened to think that your job at Metropolis’s biggest architecture firms was ‘an absolute dream’, which was always nice to hear, considering in every other aspect she felt… ahead.

She was dating (now marrying) her college sweetheart- some small-town nepo baby who’s daddy managed to land her an internship at a luxury fashion brand, a job she had kept since. She stayed busy in Gotham while you stayed ambitious in Metropolis. It was true that you had incredibly different ideas for your lives, and it was rare now for your ships to cross beyond sending instagram reels and the occasional call to deliver major news, but she had recently insisted on visiting you for the first time in years because she “had some PTO she needed to blow through before the end of the year”. Truthfully, you thought, she was likely just nosy.

Shit. Ok. You had 48 hours now to do all of the chores necessary AND to prepare your best friend to be your absolutely perfect dream boat boyfriend.

That, honestly, wasn’t the hardest task, given that the only major ‘preparation’ would be reminding Clark not to correct your sister when she addressed you as a couple. The rest sold itself- your casual touches, knowledge of each other, even your living situation. You just… needed to not make him uncomfortable. That was all. But playing the role of his girlfriend—of his perfect girlfriend—felt like the most exhausting chore on a list already far too long.

————————————

When Clark got home, he breathed deeply, removing his coat and placing it on the rack next to him as he always did. It was nice, after a day running around the bullpen, to know when he got home, he could be at peace, in a routine. Whether platonic or romantic, he saw you as his soulmate, and the peace you brought him was unrivaled.

Closing the door behind him, he felt himself fully relax, ready to enjoy the night-

“Clark. My best friend. My favorite person in the world. The brightest ray of sunshine in my whole fuckin life,” you rambled, rushing into the entry from the kitchen. “I may or may not have phenomenally fucked up and it may or may definitely include you in absolutely every capacity.”

Clark pressed his lips together in a firm line. He would do anything for you without hesitation, but he was definitely curious what you had roped him into. He took a seat on the couch silently.

“It’s possible,” you started, body swaying, refusing to stay still despite your best efforts, “that I may have accidentally convinced my sister we’re dating.”

Clark laughs- not at you, never at you- but at the circumstances.

“Is that it? Sweetheart, half my workplace is convinced we’re dating no matter what I say, that’s just how mixed gender friendships work.”

“Clark,” you emphasize. “She’s coming. Here. In 2 days. And spending the night. For a week. And I forgot to tell you, which I know is against our roommate contract, and I’m sorry, but most importantly, she’s going to expect us to act like a couple. And she just got engaged. And I am not trying to look like an absolute buffoon right now. So. I really really really need you to be the nicest you’ve ever been and help me. Please.”

He leans back, casually, evidently unfazed by your news, especially in comparison to the full-blown crashout going through your brain.

“Okay. So you need… A flawless Metropolis life to impress her. I can do that. Let’s write this script. What’s our backstory?”

————————————

The next 48 hours were a whirlwind of meal planning, deep cleaning, and improv practice. You decided shortly that if you didn’t commit to the bit now, you were both going to break before the first day was up, and you were too deep for that now.

The story was simple: you had met because you were going to the same coffee shop every day (truth) and when you had a falling out with your roommate you needed a place to stay, so Clark had offered his (also truth). After living with each other for a bit, you realized you almost seemed like a married couple already (mostly true) and Clark had asked you out officially (not true). Your favorite date spots were the coffee shop where you’d met (you did go there at least once a week) and a starlit walk through the park (Clark actually didn’t like you being outside after the sun went down: “that’s when the creeps come out”).

If you kept to the same details, everything would be fine.

That became the mantra.

Clark, to his credit, treated it like a newsroom assignment. He grabbed a legal pad, clicked his pen, and asked follow-up questions like he was interviewing you for a feature piece.

“Anniversary?”

“We don’t have one,” you shot back.

“Then we need one. Otherwise she’ll ask.”

“Fine. October. Early October. The weather was ‘crisp.’ There were leaves.”

He scribbled. “Crisp. Leaves. Got it.”

You tried not to notice how easily he folded himself into the narrative. How naturally he asked what kind of flowers he would’ve brought you. (Sunflowers, obviously. You liked things that looked like they were trying too hard to be happy.) How casually he suggested he’d probably have been the one to say “I love you” first.

“That tracks,” you muttered.

He looked up at you then, brow raised. “Does it?”

You busied yourself reorganizing the throw pillows. “You’re emotionally literate. It’s annoying.”

He huffed a laugh.

The script writing bled into blocking. Where would you sit? (Close, but not suspiciously close.) Would you hold hands? (Yes, but not constantly.) Pet names? (Absolutely not. You would die.)

Clark vetoed that last one.

“If we never call each other anything affectionate, she’ll notice,” he reasoned.

“I am not calling you ‘baby.’”

“You don’t have to. But you do already call me ‘Smallville’ when you’re being condescending.”

“That is not affectionate.”

“It is to me.”

You rolled your eyes, but heat crept up your neck anyway.

By the end of the first night, your apartment gleamed. The spare room looked curated instead of crammed. Your fridge was stocked with enough vegetarian options to impress a food blogger. And you and Clark had rehearsed your “meet cute” so many times it started to feel less like fiction and more like memory. That was the dangerous part.

Because somewhere between scrubbing baseboards and arguing about anniversary dates, you caught yourself watching him differently.

The way he automatically reached for the heavier grocery bags. The way he listened—really listened—when you spiraled. The way he said “we” when talking about your home.

It would be so easy, you realized, to let this blur.

But easy didn’t mean harmless.

————————————

Your sister arrived on a Friday afternoon in a whirlwind of perfume and carry-on luggage. She barreled through your front door like she owned it, enveloping you in a hug that squeezed the air from your lungs.

“Oh my gosh, it smells like lemons in here. You cleaned.”

“Rude,” you muttered, though your heart pounded.

Clark emerged from the kitchen right on cue, casual and devastatingly steady. He offered that polite, soft smile of his and extended a hand.

“You must be the famous little sister.”

She clocked him in under three seconds flat. You saw it happen—the visual once-over, the widening eyes, the sharp inhale.

“Oh,” she said faintly. “Oh, I get it.”

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

Clark, oblivious or pretending to be, took her suitcase with one hand like it weighed nothing. “We’re really glad you’re here.”

We.

You swallowed.

Dinner went almost too well. Clark remembered every detail of your fabricated timeline. He referenced your “first date” without prompting. He brushed his fingers over your lower back when he passed behind your chair—light, steady, grounding. The touch startled you more than it should have.

Your sister watched everything.

And she smiled.

Later that night, when Clark excused himself to “finish up an article,” she cornered you in the kitchen while you loaded the dishwasher.

“You’re in love with him,” she said plainly.

The plate nearly slipped from your hands. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you.” She leaned against the counter, diamond flashing under the light. “You do this thing when you’re trying to pretend something doesn’t matter. You overperform. But with him? You’re calmer. Quieter.”

Your throat felt tight. “We’ve been friends for years.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “That’s kind of my point.”

Across the apartment, you could hear Clark’s low voice drifting from the living room, steady and familiar. Safe.

You told yourself this was temporary. A week. A performance. A harmless lie meant to save face.

But as your sister’s knowing gaze pinned you in place, a worse realization settled in your chest.

You weren’t afraid of getting caught.

You were afraid that none of this was entirely pretend.

[brasshighway-579]

I love you kiss me

ESSIE SWEET GIRL. I will. Pucker up.