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joonsytip · 2 months

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All Too Well || Wonwoo

Synopsis: With Wonwoo's dilemma hitting the wall and your perseverance getting stronger, will the events unfold as foreseen or the fate will turn its course?

Word Count: 2k

Third and final installment of Wonwoo drabble series (set in the Withering for You universe but can be read as a standalone drabble series).

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Say Don't Go | So It Goes | All Too Well

It's been a week since Wonwoo has seen you. When he woke up that fateful day along with nothing but the void you, it didn't take him long to recollect the happenings from within the car to his sheets. The slightly recovered bruises on his knuckles and the bloodstains on his bedroom wall are the witnesses of the frenzy state he was in, still is.

The guilt of sleeping with you eats him up. The regret of getting wasted and causing the slip of his true feelings and also his dick into you, makes him wanna get swallowed by the ground. He hates that his subconscious mind was conscious enough to hear your sobs but did nothing to stop them.

Wonwoo contemplates for the whole week that follows. He wonders if he should contact you or let you have your space and contact him whenever you're ready.

He's not clear in head, unsure of what he'd say on seeing you again.

Sorry, it was a mistake. He wonders if he should go ahead with the classic lie and be an entitled jerk, letting you berate him which would gradually help you in letting go those feelings for him.

It wasn't a mistake, I really meant everything I said and did but sorry we can't be together. This seemed too much of truth bombing in a situation where the other party (you) is already hurt beyond repair.

In his mind, he tries several other permutations and combinations but never considers that one way which would save everyone from the headaches and all the heartbreaks.

Everyone can sense the shift, something has definitely happened by the way you have been avoiding meetups and can guess the reason to be Wonwoo. They can't pinpoint exactly but they're sure it started right after that night's party.

"I need you to take everything off your chest while I'm asking you nicely.", your best friend tells you, "My patience has been thinned nowadays and don't make me loose my temper."

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, as you look at her and Seungcheol whose eyes are begging you to comply with his wife because she can indeed be scary.

"Do you want Seungcheol to be gone from here?", she asks, her gaze softening, "It's okay, he won't mind."

Before you could answer, Seungcheol is already off his seat saying, "I'll head back to the office, have some matters to take care of.", and he leans to peck his wife on forehead, "Call me if you need anything and let me know once done, I'll come and pick you up."

After Seungcheol leaves, a comfortable silence falls upon.

"You're already showing.", you say smiling and your best friend mirrors one to you.

"Four months already", she says caressing her protruding belly, "Time flies by, I swear it feels like yesterday I took the test and it came out positive. Seungcheol had cried the whole night, holding me close. Though he has became a lot more sensitive than me.", she adds and looks at you, "But enough about us. I came here just to make you lift some weight off. I could have brought Gyu, but I thought we should have a one to one before letting the guys know if at all you're willing to."

When your gazes meet, you can tell that she already has an inkling because her hunch has always been accurate. So you squirm in your seat and after failing to keep the tears at bay you tell her what had exactly happened in a messy-teary state.

After consoling you, she waits for you to stop crying, blinking back her own tears.

"Are you planning to address this to Wonwoo?", she asks softly.

You shake your head, "He probably doesn't even remember."

"Bullshit." she scoffs, "Are you waiting for him to contact you? Do you want me to talk to him?"

You chuckle with all bitterness, "Yes, I wanted him to contact me but it's been a week already and honestly, I don't even want to see him now because he'll repeat the same words, which are not exactly pleasant to hear. I hate how right headed he is, how all his fears are legit. I wouldn't have done it either."

You lean up to look at her, "Also, I don't want you to talk to him and I'd appreciate it if you can keep this to yourself because we're in the same group and the guys would cause a ruckus if they become aware."

She strokes your hair in a soothing manner and you almost drift off until she nudges you to tell something but you're already dismissing her off, "Don't even think of trying to do anything. I've just accepted my fate, I'll gradually move on."

Another week passes by and Wonwoo thinks he's ready to confront you. He had taken the entire office, everyone in his circle by surprise by taking an entire week off. Seungcheol being an amazing boss and understanding friend easily granted his request in the best hopes of having his friend clear the clouds clogging in his head.

Wonwoo sends you a text asking you to meet him whenever you're free. He clutches the phone tightly in his hands, feet tapping anxiously as he awaits your reply.

When he doesn't receive one after an hour, he's calling you only to be unanswered. Rationality leaving his bones, he keeps on calling your number until it gets recieved and it's an unfamiliar male voice answering the phone.

There's a sharp pang in his heart when he gets to know that it's your blind date who has picked up the call since the phone kept ringing and you've gone to washroom. Though he wants nothing but to rush to whenever you currently are, he curtly ends the call and decides to wait for your reply to his text.

His unwavering gaze directed towards the phone might have worked because he receives a response late at night and he's meeting you tomorrow.

You are unfazed, never once thinking about Wonwoo. That's what you try to tell yourself, that's how you plan to act in front of him. You don't anticipate his arrival at your apartment, that's partially true because you know you're gonna get heartbroken again because even though you want to tie the loose ends, you're sure he's only coming to cut them off wholly.

So you tell your mother who has been nagging you to get married to set you up for blind dates and this time you promised you'd seriously consider them with marriage perspective. Hence, today you're going to another date with someone you know this time and not at all impressed about.

The doorbell rings and you check the monitor to confirm that it's Wonwoo before letting him in.

"Are you going somewhere?", Wonwoo asks as he settles on the couch and you take a seat on the chair.

You nod, "Going on a date with Minjun."

Wonwoo's jaw clenches, his hands ball into fists as he asks, "Kim Minjun? He's a womanizer, Y/N. Didn't you go on a date yesterday?"

You scoff, "And how does that concern you anyway?", your lips curl up, "People can change after marriage."

Wonwoo short circuits at your verbal jab.

"Marriage? How can you even consider Minjun out of all people?"

Your expression turns grim when you say, "If I can't marry the person I love then marriage for me would be just another business deal, another merge to benefit the company, solidify our social status."

Trying to maintain the unbothered facade, you ask, "Why did you want to meet?"

"Why did you leave me alone in the bed?", Wonwoo asks toning down, "When you left, you took all of the warmth with you."

You suck in a sharp breath, breaking the eye contact.

"Within these two weeks I went through all sorts of possibilities from never acknowledging the fact that we slept to being a jerk, dismissing it as a simple hookup to letting you down subtly.", he gets up and walks up to you, crouching in front of you, "But as I pondered over, the only honest answer residing within my heart was not to be a coward anymore and be honest about my feelings, be honest with you."

Your heartbeat quickens, as his hands encase yours, you feel the warmth seep from him.

"I love you, Y/N.", Wonwoo confesses, "Like you, I have also harboured feelings for you for a long time. I cherish every moment we've spent together."

You're eyes go wide, heart constricting in chest. You feel your inners catapulting. You thought you know him all too well to give up upon the possibility of being together but witnessing him stripping bare in front of you is something you've always wanted but never expected to happen.

Wonwoo gently holds your face, voice soft, gaze emitting tenderness when he says, "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for projecting my fears and insecurities upon you. But I have realised that you're worth everything and above. For you, I would fight the world if you allow me to stay by your side."

Rendered speechless, your teary eyes look at him with such anguish that it makes Wonwoo want to beat himself for breaking your heart over and over again.

Moments pass by and you both fall into comfortable silence. You're now seated on his lap, head laying his chest as he gently strokes your hair.

"It won't be easy.", you speak, head still downed, as your hand takes in his, entwining the fingers, "But I'd go to hell and back for you if time comes."

You shift back to look at him, "And I promise to be your shield, if anyone tries to hurt you or Wonseok, they'd have to face me first. I won't let anyone hurt you.", your gaze softens, "All of your worries, fears and sentiments are valid, Wonwoo. But it would be nice if you share them with me from now on because you're not alone, we're in this together. I love you."

Wonwoo swears he doesn't cry easily but your words seem to have opened the floodgates as his loud sobs echo throughout the house.

"Thank you.", he smiles as you wipe his tears and leans in to kiss you.

As your lips graze, the shrill ringing your phone startles you both. You grab it from the couch and the screen flashes Kim Minjun as the caller.

There's a sharp change in Wonwoo's expression as he takes the phone from your hand, putting it on speaker and answering it.

"Uh sorry, who's this speaking? Could you please get Y/N on the phone?"

There's a terse movement in the muscles of his jaw as Wonwoo responds, "I'm Jeon Wonwoo, Y/N's--", his gaze shifts at you, lips stretching in a smile, "Lover. I'm cancelling the date and please don't ever contact her again."

As soon as he hangs up, you tease him, "Lover huh? Since when?"

Wonwoo grins like he's drunk in love, he might as well be, "Since the day, you got drunk and danced on the tabletop after the semesters ended."

You gasp, "What do you want in exchange for deleting this memory?"

He's so lovesick, giggling cutely and being all touchy, "What about making new ones and keeping this one in my vault, sealed?"

Your heart flutters at the insinuation. True to your words, you'd surely fight the world to keep him with you.

And your lover chants all's well that ends well to ending up with you, gratefully with all his heart.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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egcdeath · 1 year

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the l word

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: the five times you realized that you loved joel, and the first time one of you says it.

word count: 9.1k

warnings: canon divergent, no apocalypse, 5+1 fic, hurt/comfort, a certain someone gets punched, brief mention of postpartum depression & abandonment, really brief mention of physical abuse in 3, fluff, domestic fluff, angst with a happy ending, found family

author’s note: happy very early valentine’s day! this is part three of the soccer parents au, you can read spectator sport (p1) and clean sheet (p2) here!

this fic would not be possible if it were not for the help of @freakinfairykind, who sent me the idea for scene 3 and listened to my thought vomit whenever i hit a roadblock! you can thank them for the brilliance that is what occurs in that scene :)! enjoy!

part four / series masterlist

Zero

After Nathan, you were sure that you would never fall in love again. Love was supposed to be beautiful and soft—a random bouquet of flowers, having a whole conversation with just your eyes, sweet messages sent to you when you expected it least and needed it most, and foot massages after a long day. For you, love had been nothing of the sort—settling for mediocrity, spitting out venomous words during arguments, and biting back tears on forgotten anniversaries.

Love wasn’t kind or patient, or rainbows and flowers. Love was a storm cloud that followed you around when you were around him, pouring sadness and anger on you and striking you with lightning bolts of resentment.

Maybe some people just simply weren’t meant for love. Maybe you were one of them.

One

After years of trying to hold together a failing marriage and hide the myriad of painful feelings you were going through for the sake of your daughter, bottling up your feelings had become your preferred coping mechanism to everyday stressors.

For the most part, it worked for you. Sure, some days were harder than others, and the smallest confrontation or blip in the day would send you spiraling; but more often than not, you were able to compartmentalize whatever was bothering you and save it for a rainy day.

That was part of what worked so well about the relationship you had with Joel during the soccer season—you had the opportunity to unscrew the lid of the shaken bottle of your feelings just a little bit, taking some of the edge off by yelling about completely inconsequential things. But now, you don't have that outlet. And today was one of those days that you desperately needed it.

Nathan had come by to pick up Chloe just a bit ago, and it was very obvious that she hadn’t exactly wanted to spend her weekend with him. Some of her friends were going to the mall and having a sleepover, and because Nathan wasn’t particularly fond of their parents, he’d very openly told her no. She begged and pleaded to stay with you (mainly so she could go hang out with her friends), which of course broke your heart a little bit, but also led to a pretty dramatic outburst from your daughter to Nathan when he’d picked her up.

“You’re raising a spoiled little brat,” he hissed at you, pointing an accusatory finger once Chloe was in the car.

“At least I’m raising her. You only show up when it’s convenient for you,” you shot back. If Nathan wanted to stoop low, you could fall to his level. “Put your finger down. She’s watching us.”

“A little argument won’t hurt her,” he scoffed. “See? You’re proving my point: you spoil her too much.”

“Because years of watching her parents bicker wasn’t traumatic enough? Get in the fucking car, Nathan.”

He huffed, looking back at the car, then over at you. “Fine. But before I go, I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking poorly about me in front of her. Clearly she’s listening to you and acting out because of it.”

“Have you considered that you’re just a shit father and maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you?” you were already making your way back inside, feeling the avalanche of emotions beginning to stir inside of you, and a little frightened of what might come out next.

“You’re still such a bitch. Every day I praise every deity that’s out there that I left your sorry ass.”

You were viciously fighting the urge to get the last word in, knowing that whatever would come out next wouldn’t be good, and you certainly didn’t want Chloe seeing you like that. You left him with a sarcastic thumbs up, then slammed your front door, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm yourself down.

You crumbled down in front of the door, still maintaining slow and deep breaths. It was no big deal. Nathan just says stuff like that to stir the pot. You just needed to find something to take your mind off of everything. Your mind went to the scarf you’d been working on crocheting, something you could mindlessly do for a little while while you cooled off.

The scarf was going well. You were calmly crocheting the evening away when you checked your phone to find a few apologetic messages from your coworkers. Feeling confused, you went on to check your email, only to find that the promotion you’d spent the last few months of your life slaving away for had been given to someone else—someone who had worked half as hard as you, and even took credit for a few of your projects.

Your hands shook as you set down your phone and attempted to pick back up the crochet hook. You were fine, right? Sometimes these things just happen. Sometimes you sacrifice hours of your free time, hours of time you’ll never get back with your child, or significant other, hours you’ll never get back of sleep, hours of-

You cut your mind off, tossing aside the scarf and taking a deep breath. You were gonna be okay. This just meant you could take your foot off the gas going forward, since your work, effort, and time clearly was not being valued. Maybe you would just sit at your desk and play games, then slap your name on projects and presentations like Naomi. Maybe you’d just-

Your phone began to vibrate on your bed and your immediate reaction was to silence it, but upon checking the contact name, you became slightly more inclined to answer.

“Hey! I almost thought you weren’t gonna pick up,” the man on the other end chuckled.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, although you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle anything else today. With how your day was going, Joel was probably calling you to break up.

“Better than okay. We finished up early, and Sarah’s already at her friend’s. You in the mood for some company?”

No, not particularly. In fact, if Joel came over, you’d probably end up going off on him over something you don’t really mean, successfully putting an end to the best thing you’ve had in a while.

“Uh,” your voice cracked, and a rogue tear slipped down your face. You didn’t even know that you were on the brink of tears. “I’m sorry,” you uttered, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Sorry for what? You don’t have to feel bad for not wanting me over,” he said genuinely, not picking up on your emotional state over the phone.

“No, I do want you over,” you whimpered. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“What? I promise you I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’m going home now, but I can also come to your place if you want me to.”

“Please,” you grit out.

“You okay?” he asked, finally catching on to the fact that something was very off with you.

“I don’t know,” you confessed.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No.”

“You sure you want me to come over?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, desperately trying to fend off your tears.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Bye,” you hung up, burrowing yourself under layers of blankets and curling up onto your side. Maybe this tidal wave of emotions would pass by the time Joel got to your place. You closed your eyes as you took deep, shaky breaths, wiping away stray tears every now and then as they fell. You could pull yourself together.

You kept telling yourself this as you dragged yourself out of bed to answer the door, but the moment you saw Joel with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, you completely lost it. He immediately tossed the items down and pulled you into a tight embrace, not exactly knowing what was wrong, but instinctually wanting to comfort you regardless.

You didn’t even really know what it was either. Sure, you were pissed that you’d lost the promotion, and even more upset that Nathan had called your daughter a name while insulting your parenting skills, but it was far more than that. It was every little thing from the past two months that had upset you in some capacity that you had decided to push as far down as possible.

You sobbed until your throat was raw and your eyes grew sore from crying so much. The whole time Joel wordlessly held you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and swaying you back and forth just the slightest bit. You almost felt like your tears would never stop, and the more you willed yourself to pull it together, the harder it was to do so.

Finally, you pulled away, head hanging with humiliation by the emotions abruptly pouring out of you. You truly felt like a live wire. You should’ve just told Joel not to come over.

“Want me to run you a bath?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up so he could look at you, and rubbing a thumb over your cheek. “Or is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“A bath is good,” you said quietly, averting your gaze. You almost felt like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. The shame of being a grown woman who couldn’t even control her emotions was overwhelming, but Joel didn’t seem to mind much at all. He simply led you up to your bathroom and quietly filled the tub for you, checking it every now and then to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Once the tub was filled up, he helped you undress, then held your hand as you stepped into the tub.

“Would you like me to stay?” Joel asked as you settled into the tub.

“Not really,” you admitted.

“Okay. Just yell for me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.”

Somehow, the bath was everything you needed. It was just warm enough to relax your rather tense muscles, and just quiet enough to allow you to actually process your thoughts. You sat and soaked in the bath for a while, just inhaling the scent of lavender, and trying your best to let go of the feelings that you’d been holding onto for so long.

Eventually, you felt ready to talk about things, and called out Joel’s name, who after a moment, showed up in your bathroom and sat down on a towel next to the tub.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching for your pruny hand.

“Better,” you answered as you laced your fingers with his.

“Well, I’m here when you feel ready to talk about it. And if you don’t feel ready to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

“Okay,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, the apology being more of a force of habit.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Joel assured, “we all feel our feelings sometimes,” he pushed away a bit of hair that had fallen into your face.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, I guess,” you continued. It had been a while since you’d shown any negative emotions in front of anyone, let alone a significant other. In fact, the last time you’d been sad in front of a significant other, you’d been laughed at and mocked. You’d been conditioned to see your own vulnerability as weakness, as a character flaw you needed to apologize for.

“Like what? Naked?” he teased, trying to at least make you smile when you’d clearly been feeling so down. “You know I don’t mind that at all. Seriously, though. There’s nothing wrong with being upset, and there’s nothing wrong with being upset in front of the people you care about.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel like you weren’t a burden for having a rough day. Joel gently brushed away your tears with his thumb, and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling all sorts of feelings, particularly one feeling you couldn’t quite describe that had been lying dormant for years of your life.

You eventually got out of the tub once the water had become too cold and you had become

somewhat of a human prune, and you found yourself curled up in bed with Joel, wearing a flannel that he’d left behind the last time he was over.

“Feeling any better?” he asked once again, gently rubbing your back as a trashy reality TV show played quietly in the background.

“Yeah,” you mumbled as you looked up at the ceiling, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“Months?” Joel asked, scooting closer to you. “What’s been happening?”

“Too much to get into,” you sighed. “I guess it just all came out now.”

Joel turned down the volume of the TV, and turned his body so that he could face you properly. “If you want to talk, we have the time. I may or may not have drank a coffee on my way over here, so I’ll be completely alert for the next few hours.”

He gently grabbed your hand and squeezed it, a little reminder that he was here for you.

“Today’s just been… bad. When Nathan picked Chloe up, she was upset so he called her a spoiled brat and said that it was my fault that she was one. Obviously I do a lot for her, and I know that I’m a good mom, but sometimes the way he talks about her scares me a little. I don’t want her to have self-esteem issues because her dad likes to name-call. I mean, she’s probably gonna have enough issues from our shitty relationship and messy divorce. That really upset me, but that definitely wasn’t the last straw or anything.”

Joel silently sat and listened, holding your hand and listening attentively.

“I lost the promotion, Joel. You know, the one I’ve been working absurd hours for? But it’s not just that, it’s just… there are months of emotions I haven’t had a chance to process. I guess it just all came out now after that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “Nathan is an asshole. He shouldn’t be saying that kind of thing about his child just to make you feel bad. And your boss is stupid for not giving you that position when you’ve clearly earned it. Everything you’ve felt today is valid, but so is everything else that you’ve been holding in for the past… however long. It’s okay to feel your feelings in the moment instead of waiting for them to boil over.”

“I guess, it’s just… I don’t know. I’ve had to be strong for so long. I don’t know if I know how to not wait for my emotions to boil over.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so strong anymore. You’re not alone,” he assured you. “If you ever need me to watch Chloe because you need to go out to the middle of nowhere and scream, or just need someone to talk your feelings out with, I am more than happy to do so. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, setting your head on Joel’s chest.

You were getting that weird, dormant feeling in you once again. There was an odd warmth in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, that felt strange and familiar, but most of all, exciting. You had no idea what was going on, or what that feeling was, but you did know that you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon.

And honestly, it didn’t seem like it would.

Two

Walking into Joel’s home to the sound of soft guitar chords made you feel a bit like you had woken up in a dream, or died and gone to heaven. It wasn’t often that you’d heard him play guitar. Sing? Sure! He loved to sing along to a song he liked on the radio, or do karaoke with you and the kids. But playing guitar was something that he seemed to like to keep to himself.

Joel had picked Chloe up from school, as you had an important work event that you’d anticipated going quite late, and as you’d predicted, it was nearly midnight by the time you got to Joel’s place. It was rare for you to see those two alone, without yours or Sarah’s presence, but you’d assumed the latter had gone to bed due to how late it was and the fact that they had school in the morning.

So hearing Joel play for your daughter felt… weird. But a good weird. Like he trusted her enough to be doing something that he often kept under wraps, even for you.

“I love this song!” you heard your daughter exclaim from the living room. You rounded a corner, not quite ready to appear yet, but curious enough to eavesdrop on the scene.

Joel chuckled at her reaction, “should we sing it together?”

“Maybe, I’m not very good, though.”

“I doubt that,” Joel said, continuing to play the introduction to the song on a loop.

“I… fine, I’ll sing.”

The two of them began to sing along to the song, and you could’ve sworn that your heart did an actual flip as you listened. There was something very sweet about the whole scene, of Joel playing a song your daughter loved, of him assuring her that she was good enough, and singing something together.

You should’ve felt bad for listening in on the scene, for invading on a moment that was clearly meant to be private, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to feel that way when your heart was so filled with… something that you couldn’t quite place.

The song came to a soft conclusion, and you figured there was no better time to finally step out from behind the wall than then.

“You guys sounded so good!” you stated as you entered the room.

“Oh hi,” Joel greeted a little awkwardly, looking down at his guitar as if he’d been caught red handed.

“Mom!” Chloe exclaimed, coming over to you and hugging you. “I missed you.”

“We were just killing time while we waited for you to get home. How was work?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, sitting down across from Joel as Chloe curled up next to you. “It was work.”

“Mom, did you know that Joel sings and plays guitar? He’s really good!”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” you acted surprised for your child, but looked mischievously at your partner. It wasn’t often that you had the chance to get Joel to play you something, and you refused to let the opportunity slip away from you. “Can you play me something?”

“He can!” Chloe accepted the offer before Joel could begin to protest. God, was this child your mini-you. “Go ahead, Joel.”

He looked to you as if he needed some sort of excuse to not do it, or encouragement to play (more likely than not, he was looking for an out), but you simply shrugged, far too enthused at the idea of him playing guitar for you.

Just as the man sighed and began to put his fingers to the string, Sarah came down the stairs and plopped herself right next to you.

“You guys are loud,” she stated, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry for waking you up,” you apologized. “You were just about to miss your dad’s concert!”

“Oh good,” Sarah giggled, getting all comfortable next to you as she pulled a blanket over her lap.

“I feel like this is a premeditated attack,” Joel held onto his guitar.

“It’s definitely not. We just want you to share your gift with the world!”

“Alright, fine. Only because I like you guys so much.”

The three of you cheered from the couch as Joel began to play again, the soft acoustic notes of a love song you’d heard a few times before. As Joel played and sang, he looked straight at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the lyrics were coming straight from his heart to you.

That warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you’d become more and more familiar with over the course of your relationship began to reappear as you sat there, the moment a snapshot of the perfect domestic bliss that had become your home life. As you sat with your two favorite children in the world, and your favorite man, you realized that you’d never felt more content in your life.

Three

When you agreed to come to a bar with Joel, you hadn’t expected it to be a quaint little hole-in-the-wall with great live music.

The atmosphere was lively, the drinks were dangerously sweet, and best of all, it was cute watching Joel in his element. Part of you wondered if he ever saw himself up on the stage, playing for a little audience. Although, he was so bashful and shy playing in front of you and the girls that you wondered if he would like it at all.

You finished off your first drink rather quickly, but you were feeling up for another, and prepared to head back to the bar. “Do you want another drink?” you asked Joel over the loud music.

“I’m alright. Thank you, though,” he kissed your cheek, then looked back up at the stage, directing all of his focus there once more.

You made your way back to the bar, where you ordered another fruity drink for yourself and patiently waited for it to be made, humming along to the cover being sung on stage.

Being able to find out more about what Joel liked to spend his time doing was (unsurprisingly) quite nice. While he was vulnerable with his emotions, he was often a little more closed off when it came to sharing his hobbies and interests. You wondered how many of these live shows and open mics he was familiar with, how many local artists he was friends with. Would he ever feel comfortable enough around you to share those things with you? Well, you certainly hoped so.

You looked around with a small smile on your face at the thought of learning more about your partner’s interests. Had he ever been the one up on stage? Maybe before Sarah was born and he was launched straight into the time consuming world of fatherhood. Although, he surely would’ve shared that with you by now.

You were drawn out of thought when eyes landed on a head of hair that looked a little too familiar for your liking.

No.

There was no way.

This bar was definitely not his scene. In fact, if you’d suggested this bar, he would’ve laughed in your face and called you a hipster, before dragging you out to some stuffy restaurant where he’d complain about the portion size of both his meal and the bill.

Your mind was just playing a mean trick on you. You’d had a somewhat stressful week, and sometimes drinking made you the slightest bit paranoid. Besides, it was just someone’s hair. Literally anyone could have that hair color, or hair cut, and although the world was small, it wasn’t that small.

Just as you began to fall headfirst into your nerves, the bartender handed you your drink, and you walked back to Joel, head still in the clouds.

You couldn’t shake that off feeling, even as Joel danced around with you and stole a sip of your drink, both actions bringing a smile to your face, but not quite quelling the growing discomfort in your stomach.

You just needed to go clear your mind and freshen up. At least, that’s what you told yourself before telling Joel to keep your drink safe and power walking to the bathroom.

You stood at the sink, splashing your face with water as cold as the faucets would go. Nathan was not here. You needed to just relax, and enjoy the fun date that Joel had planned. You couldn’t keep letting this man ruin your experiences, even when he wasn’t present.

“You okay, hun?” a voice asked you while your head was bowed over the sink. When you looked up, your eyes nearly popped out of your head, as if you were some ridiculous cartoon character.

Well. Your brain must’ve really been fucking with you today. Or the Universe just really hated you.

Claire, Nathan’s new girlfriend, was asking you if you were alright in the bathroom of a bar that your new boyfriend had suggested.

You were completely unsure of whether she knew who you were or not, although she seemed tipsy enough not to care.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled awkwardly at her. “But, uh, my mascara’s a little smudged. Any chance you have a makeup wipe?”

“Yeah!” she said, digging into her purse to check for the item.

You’d never met Claire before, but as far as first impressions went, this one wasn’t too bad. She offered you the wipe, then stood next to you as you dabbed at your under eye.

“You meet anyone fun tonight?” she asked, beginning to touch up her own makeup.

“No, I’m actually here with my partner. He really likes the music,” you said casually, dabbing at the same spot so you could at least attempt to maintain your composure in an otherwise dramatically ironic and tense situation.

“Oh no. Was he the one making you cry?”

“Cry? No! I was sweating. We were dancing,” suddenly, a slightly perverse question crossed your mind. “Does your partner make you cry a lot?”

“How do you even know I have one?” she giggled, sounding less accusatory and more confused.

“I don’t I just-“

“No, not really,” she shrugged as she reapplied her lip liner. “He mostly just buys me shit and spoils me. What would I have to cry about? He’s a really good guy.”

Oh, you remembered that phase. Well, phases. The time after he’d slapped you during an argument immediately came to mind. Nathan could probably teach a seminar on love bombing, then making you feel guilty for having any negative feelings because of all the money he’d spent on you.

“That’s good,” you nodded, tossing the used wipe in the trash and making your way to the door. “Thanks for checking in on me and helping me. Have a good night.”

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” she asked as your hand hit the door.

“No,” you replied promptly, maybe slamming the door behind you a little too hard.

This was a lot to process, and a lot to take in. Despite having a fun time with Joel, you really just wanted to go home. Finding your way back out to him, you silently accepted back your drink and stood besides him stiffly.

“You okay?” he asked, gently grabbing your arm.

“Fine, just… just.. I have an upset stomach,” you explained. You were never a good liar, the concern in Joel’s eyes told you that you hadn’t suddenly become one.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, rubbing your forearm gently. “Let’s go home, okay?”

You certainly didn’t protest as he began to lead you out of the bar, and you let out a sigh of relief at being able to leave before running into anyone else you knew.

Although, life was never that simple, was it?

As you approached the door, a familiar voice called out your name, sending a chill up your spine. Joel’s head whipped around from where it was coming from, and scowled when he saw who the voice belonged to. Ignoring him, the two of you continued your departure, a newfound urgency in both of your steps.

Once you were outside, you felt yourself puff out a sigh of relief. You’d managed to get out of the bar with only a brief conversation with Claire, and no direct interaction with Nathan. Now, if you could only get home, curl up with Joel on the couch, and tell him the absurd story of how you’d bumped into your ex’s new girlfriend in the bathroom.

But the universe clearly wasn’t letting you off the hook just yet.

“Hey!” Nathan called as he stepped out of the bar, Claire trailing just a few paces behind him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. Can’t even say hi to the father of your child.”

You were almost alarmed by the speed in which Joel marched over to your ex and reprimanded him. Not even wasting a moment, Joel shoved him back—a warning of sorts, with your knowledge that he was certainly holding himself back.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” he barked. It was like no tone you’d ever heard him use before, not when he was upset with anyone, and not even when he was yelling at a referee for a bad call.

“And who the fuck are you?” your ex shot back.

“Does it really matter?” Joel pressed, not backing down despite the slightly shorter man getting in his face. “You’re not gonna go around trying to degrade women.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna stop me, Mr. Nice guy?” Nathan pushed Joel, but your partner barely budged.

“You fuckin’ cuck,” Nathan muttered. “Why do you even care about this whore?”

Nathan took a second to think about it, glancing between the two of you before a light seemed to go off in his little brain.

“Oh, I know. You’re that guy from the soccer games. You two together now?" His condescension was almost jarring to hear, and part of you worried about what your clearly inebriated ex might say or do next. “I see you’re still the community cumrag,” he directed at you.

You hardly had a moment to process what was just said before Joel was swinging, clearly seeing red as he threw a hefty right hook at your ex, leaving a nasty crunching sound as he fell to the ground.

“Don’t talk about her, or any other fucking woman like that ever again,” he squatted down to his level, and grabbed both of his cheeks. “Leave her the fuck alone, you understand me? Or next time you’re gonna wish it was just your nose.”

Nathan cradled his bloody nose and whimpered and Joel walked back to you, the fury on his face melting into something apologetic as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he began, cautiously approaching you as if he was something to be afraid of. “I shouldn’t have done that. I overstepped-“

“Joel. Don’t apologize. Do you know how much that asshole deserved it? You did everyone a favor tonight, but especially me.”

You had never had someone defend you so literally before. Sure, your friends had argued with Nathan a few times on your behalf, but punching Nathan in the face had truly raised your expectations for anyone who claimed to be doing anything to help you. You don’t think you’d have felt this alive or cherished in years.

“Now let’s get you home and ice those knuckles.”

Four

You were usually a big fan of rainy days. The sound of rain pattering against the window or on the roof of your car, and the smell of petrichor on the pavement were sensations you wished you could experience all the time. But today, you weren’t quite so pleased to see the rain.

You’d taken the day off to spend it with Joel, who had specifically asked for you to take some time off to be with him. You couldn’t blame him, as you’d been slightly neglecting him after things picked up once again at work. You’d had a whole outdoorsy day planned, with a morning hike, a visit to a conservatory, and a picnic at one of your favorite local parks. Unfortunately, none of those activities could be done comfortably in the pouring rain.

Instead, you opted to come back to your place after you dropped your kids off at school, and have a domestic little day-in.

After putting some homemade cinnamon rolls into the oven, the two of you found yourselves on your couch, comfortably sitting together and reading your own books while the smell of warm cinnamon filled your house.

Occasionally, you glanced out your window, the scene of rain granting you a sense of serenity. At one point, you noticed Joel’s gaze out the window as well, and you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“Don’t you just love the rain?” you asked, setting your book down on your coffee table. It was more of an excuse to break the silence than an actual comment, but you said it regardless.

“It’s nice,” he agreed, his tone oddly somber for a comment on the rain.

“You okay, big guy?” you asked before moving closer to Joel.

“I’m alright,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. There wasn’t any real concrete evidence that something was off, but something inside you told you that something definitely was off.

“You sure?” you asked, squeezing his bicep.

“Yeah, it’s just,” he paused, looking down at his book as if he was about to go right back to reading instead of telling you the issue. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke once more, “it’s the anniversary of Diane leaving.”

Oh. So that’s why he’d asked to be with you today.

You’d never heard Joel say her name before. Sure, you’d seen her name written under a polaroid or two, but you’d never heard Joel reference her ever. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really know what their deal was. Amicable exes? Divorcees? Was Joel a widower? You felt awful that you’d gone this far into a relationship and still didn’t know anything about his last significant one.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not completely sure how to react. You mainly wanted to get a gauge on Joel’s reaction–just how upset was he? Did he want to talk about it? Or just get the importance of the day out in the open?

“It’s just… Today feels like that day in a lot of ways.”

You nodded slowly, still not exactly sure of how to approach the situation. You thought back to all of the times he’d been there to support you when you were having a rough day, and ended up asking aloud, “is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Maybe just listening, if that’s okay. It helps to talk about it,” he paused. “The rolls smell done. I’ll go get them,” with that, he was off to the kitchen, barely giving you time to react, or even protest his departure.

He clearly wanted to talk, but just wasn’t completely ready to do so at that moment. You could listen. You could be the best damn listener on the planet if that was what Joel needed from you. No matter what he revealed to you today, you were determined to make Joel feel comfortable, and know that whatever he was going through, he wasn’t alone—just as he’d shown you in the past.

By the time he came back to the living room, Joel offered you a plate with an iced cinnamon roll and acted like everything was normal. He sat back down next to you, stole a bite from your plate, then buried his nose right back into his novel.

You respected his right to process his emotions in any way he saw fit. All you could do was be a good partner, and offer whatever he needed from you to feel better, like he’d done for you so many times before.

While you were fine with spending your day cuddled up on the sofa and reading, you were also aware that there were a good amount of house chores that were calling your name. Upon mentioning these tasks, Joel insisted on helping out, which was how you two landed in the laundry room, laughing at something stupid that had happened to you this week.

While you loaded light clothes into your washer, Joel suddenly caught you off guard with a question that was a far cry from the banter you’d just been having only moments before.

“Is it… are you okay with me talking about it?”

By it you could only assume he meant the giant elephant of a woman in the room.

“Of course,” you turned to him, offering sympathetic eyes.

“She left just a few months after Sarah was born,” Joel busied himself by pouring out laundry detergent and fabric softeners. “I just woke up one morning to an empty bed and a note in the kitchen saying she was leaving, she wasn’t coming back, and not to look for her.”

You were taken aback by the cruelty of such an abrupt ending, especially with such a young infant. You couldn’t imagine being put in those circumstances so unexpectedly.

Joel casually poured the respective liquids into their proper places in the machine, then turned it on. “It was a day just like this. The nursery had a nice, big window that we put a rocking chair in front of. Sarah liked looking at the stars when she was younger, it always helped to calm her down. I remember holding her in that chair and bawling my eyes out while she cried too, and with all the rain against the window… it felt like the Earth was crying right along with us.”

You weren’t sure what to say or how to react, but it seemed like Joel was prepared to move right on, quickly changing the subject as he led you out of the laundry room.

Baking cinnamon rolls had left a lot of dishes in the sink, but luckily for you, you had an extra set of hands to help you out. Joel was on rinsing duty, and you were on loading.

You quickly found your rhythm, as you often did with partnered tasks. You worked quietly while loading the dishes, letting the music from your speaker fill up the silence, but it was obvious Joel was lost in thought.

Eventually, he quietly began to speak again, “I kept trying to make sense of her leaving. I knew that postpartum depression hit her really hard, and that she was barely sleeping at night because of how often Sarah was crying. Sarah was a really sensitive, fussy baby. She’d told me how she’d felt a few times, and I always kinda thought things would just pass. Every new parent hits that roadbump where they just can’t see themselves doing this thing forever, right? Then, she just left. I thought maybe she just needed a few days away, and that she’d be back. But days went by, then weeks, then it had been a month, and it was still just Sarah and I.”

“Did she ever come back around?” you asked, setting down the last dish into the sink, then closing the machine.

“Never heard from her again.”

You closed the distance between you and the man, wrapping him in as tight of a hug that you could manage.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered into his shirt as he melted into your embrace. “I can’t even imagine how painful and stressful that was.”

As a mother, you couldn’t imagine abandoning your child; the tiny human being you spent nine months carrying, and would spend a lifetime loving. But as a human, you understood the stress of being the parent of a newborn. Waking up every few hours because your baby is crying and you’ve tried everything to get her to stop but she just… won’t. Paired with postpartum depression, which you were no stranger to, you could understand the circumstances that led Diane to feeling like she had no other option but to leave. But that didn’t, in any way, make it the right thing to do.

As you held Joel, a sound you hadn’t ever heard from him escaped his lips, wracking his body. A guttural cry that had clearly been trapped deep inside of him for the longest time had suddenly escaped as he recalled an event that had clearly changed his life.

You stood in the kitchen holding him for what felt like forever, when he finally pulled away, wiping his face a little bit.

“Thank you,” was all that he managed to get out.

You laid next to him in bed after a rather emotionally loaded session of lovemaking, trying to catch your breath as the two of you recovered from the underlying emotional and physical aftermath of your fornication. As Joel spooned you, a question lingered on your mind.

“Do you still love her?” you asked, keeping your eyes forward on the wall. You wanted to say you were sure he had moved on, but these types of situations were rather nuanced. There were just some bonds that regardless of time or circumstances, people continued to hold on to.

“No,” he answered clearly. “I don’t hate her, either. I guess I just understand her. But that doesn’t make what she put me or Sarah through any better.”

You slipped your hand down to where his were currently laying on your stomach, and you set one on top of his.

“I’m not jealous, I’m just curious. Do you ever miss her?”

“I used to,” he sighed, the close breath blowing some hairs on your neck. “I don’t anymore.”

Eventually, your laundry was dry, meaning you two needed to get out of bed and get to folding.

“She has a new family, now,” he said out of the blue, as he folded up a pair of your pajama pants. “Husband, kids, dog, the full nine yards. Tommy found her Facebook a few years ago, but I still haven’t looked. I don’t really know why.”

You didn’t really know why either, but you knew exactly the feeling he was experiencing. Seeing your ex who you’d invested so much into and had a child with move on with someone was a particularly gut wrenching feeling. You could only imagine how much worse it was in Joel’s scenario, where Diane had abandoned him and their child, yet had a child and built another family elsewhere.

“Does Sarah know?” you asked, putting a blouse onto a hanger.

“Bits and pieces. She kinda just accepted that her mom’s not in the picture, but doesn’t know why she left or anything about her mom’s new family,” Joel finished up with his basket, then began to help you with yours. “Maybe when she’s older. Old enough to understand that it isn’t her fault and that these things just… happen sometimes.”

“I guess,” you frowned as you grabbed your last article of clothing and hung it up. “It shouldn’t have happened, though. Neither of you deserved to be abandoned.”

“It was gonna happen one way or another,” Joel shrugged, putting your baskets away. “Our relationship had been on the rocks even before Diane became pregnant. If it wasn’t then, it would be later. I’m just glad it happened early enough that Sarah doesn’t remember. You in the mood for a coffee?”

His words gave you a bit of whiplash, but you accepted the offer of a warm drink regardless.

You sat at your table, stirring your drink as Joel sat down across from you.

“Good, right?” he asked. “I think I’ve officially nailed the way you like your coffee.”

“It’s pretty good,” you admitted, taking a sip from a mug that Chloe had decorated in her school’s art class.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good. It is one,” you hummed.

It was clear that his mood was slightly improving the more that he talked about his experience. You wondered just how much of this information he’d shared with anyone else before you, as he told the story as if he were confessing something for the first time ever.

“I’ve never told anyone this much about it,” he confessed. “I’m glad that of all the people I could’ve told, it ended up being you.”

“Joel, I,” the words popped into your head, but died on your tongue. “I care about you so much. I know this can’t be easy to talk about, so thank you for sharing this with me,” you squeezed his hands across the table.

“Thank you for being so supportive. I also care about you a lot. So much that it scares me. Especially knowing that you could lose everything in a literal night,” he admitted.

“Oh Joel,” you said softly. “I’m also scared. I’m always so scared that I’ll lose you and Sarah and this little blended family we’ve made. But if that’s the price I pay for… caring about you so much, I’m okay with being afraid.”

Joel looked at you like he had something to say, but instead sat there quietly for a moment, processing your words. “Do you want to watch an episode of The Bachelorette?”

“Is that even a question? C’mon,” you stood up.

The two of you cuddled up on the couch once again, this time with a much lighter feeling in the room, partially due to what Joel had confessed to you, and partially due to the absolutely ridiculous content playing on your television.

“I’m sad that I had to go through what I had to go through, but I’m glad that it led me to you,” Joel said out of the blue, resting his forehead against yours.

You were glad that he found you too.

Five

It wasn’t every day that the forces of the universe seemed to be on your side, but for some reason, today was one of those days.

When you’d been called into your boss’ office that morning, a pit formed in your stomach. You’d figured that the day you were going to be laid off was coming, especially following the whole promotion fiasco. As you walked into her office, you fully intended to be walking out without a job.

Except, that wasn’t what happened. You had been promoted, and promoted into a position even higher than the one you’d previously been gunning after.

Once you found out, you had to fight the urge to skip out of your boss’s office, singing and dancing with joy. Instead, you fought that urge by closing the door to your office, and calling Joel.

“Hey honey, what’s up?” he answered casually.

“Joel, they promoted me! And it’s an even better position than what I was trying to get before!” you squealed.

Joel cheered from over the phone, making you somehow smile even harder. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you. I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than you.”

“Oh my god, stop it,” you giggled, putting your hands up to your warm cheeks.

“No, I’m serious,” Joel countered. “I know a lot of hard workers, and none of them work as hard as you. You’ve sacrificed so much to get here and it’s finally paid off.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you had more to say, but you decided to keep it to yourself. Mainly, how did you get so lucky to end up with a man like him?

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked.

“I’m just dropping Chloe off at my mom’s, then I should be free for the evening. Why?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place so we can celebrate? You picked the right time to get a promotion. Sarah’s going to her uncle’s for the weekend.”

“Sounds good to me,” you hummed. “I’ll text you when I’m heading over.”

“Alright. Again, congratulations! So proud.”

You hung up and attempted to get back to work, but you were far too excited to focus for too long. You somehow made it to the end of the work day and to Joel’s house without spontaneously combusting from joy.

When you walked in, you were immediately met with the smells of one of your favorite candles, mixed with the mouthwatering scent of fragrant coming from the kitchen.

“Joel, I’m home!” you announced, making your way to the kitchen only to find it very dressed up. The lights were dimmed, a crisp white table cloth rested on the table, and a gorgeous arrangement of flowers sat in a vase in the middle of the table, right next to a rather nice looking bottle of champagne.

Joel was finishing up plating something spectacular as you came in. “Please, have a seat,” he directed. You didn’t need to be told twice.

With the arrangement of the table, you almost felt like you were sitting at a fancy little restaurant, but better, knowing all the effort Joel had put into making the table look this way. He brought over two plates, set one over at his seat and one in front of you, before leaning down and kissing you gently.

“Congratulations. I am so, so, so proud of you,” he said after finally pulling away, reaching for the bottle of champagne on the table.

“If anyone in the world deserves good things,” he turned away from you so that he could safely pop the bottle. “It’s you. I’m glad you’re finally getting the recognition that you deserve.”

With the bottle opened, he poured you out a glass, then poured himself some. You lifted up your glass and Joel mirrored you.

“Cheers,” you said with a grin, tapping your glasses together, then taking a sip. Once you finished drinking, Joel leaned in for one more kiss before he situated himself back into his chair.

“I think you deserve a promotion from best boyfriend in the world to best boyfriend in the universe,” you softly laughed, looking down at your plate.

“Do I? I think anyone would celebrate the person they…” he paused for just a split second, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t paying such close attention. “The person they’re sharing their life with if they made a big accomplishment like this.”

“Honey, you’d be very surprised. I can think of at least one person who would view this promotion as a bad thing.”

“Well, don’t think about them right now. This is an amazing thing, and we’re celebrating you today. Not an insecure man with a Napoleon complex and a small penis.”

You laughed out loud, nearly choking on a bubbly sip of champagne.

“You’re right,” you picked up your fork and knife, reading to dig into the amazing looking meal in front of you. “Thank you for this, Joel. You always make me feel so appreciated and cherished. You’re truly one of a kind.”

He shook his head bashfully at the compliment, eating right along with you. It was almost cute how he never seemed to accept compliments, but certainly deserved them more than basically any other person that you knew.

“You always show me how much you care about me. It’s only fair that I do the same.”

“You’re so romantic,” you sighed. “How can I guarantee that I can keep you around forever?”

“Just keep being you, I guess. That’s all I’ve really ever wanted.”

How did you get so lucky? How did you manage to hit the jackpot on men with Joel, almost let it slip through your fingers not once, but twice, and still managed to end up with one of your favorite people in the world?

However it ended up happening, you certainly weren’t mad at it, and as you sat together, you hoped for things never to change.

Plus One

Given that you practically lived at each other’s homes now, you often spent your mornings together getting ready to take on the day. It was cute how you both had your own little routines and were able to coexist in a tiny little space.

Today, you stood in Joel’s bathroom, washing your face as the mirror across from you began to become progressively more foggy from the heat of Joel’s shower.

“My hair is gonna be so frizzy,” you muttered to yourself as you rubbed moisturizer into your skin.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come in here with me,” Joel shot back from the shower, turning the water off.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, getting back to work on your face as Joel dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy in the morning,” he commented as he approached you, standing next to you at the sink.

“I am not grumpy,” you argued, then paused once Joel gave you a very disbelieving expression. “Fine. I can get a little irritable in the morning. Especially when someone’s boiling hot showers make my hair get all frizzy.”

“I wonder who that someone is?” Joel looked around the room in faux confusion.

“Ugh, shut up. You are such a dad,” you fought back laughter, but you couldn’t really help the smile that appeared on your lips.

“Shutting up,” Joel acknowledged, grabbing his razor and some shaving cream to touch up some of his facial hair. You began to brush your teeth, focusing on yourself in the mirror to make sure that you were making your dentist proud.

Your eyes eventually migrated and were meeting Joel’s in the mirror. You flashed him a big, foamy grin, and he immediately broke into hysterics, setting the razor down so he didn’t cut himself while laughing so hard.

“Really?” he asked between laughs. “While I’m shaving?”

“Sorry,” you shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk.

“You are such a dork,” Joel sighed as he calmed himself down, leaning against the counter as he began to work on shaving his face once more. “Ugh, I love you,” the words seemed to come out of his mouth involuntarily, if the horrified look on his face told you anything.

It seemed like the whole house stopped after Joel said it, the dripping from the showerhead ceasing, the faint buzz of the air conditioner nowhere to be found, and the noises of your children downstairs coming to a halt.

You were shocked at the admission, and Joel seemed to be shocked that he’d said anything.

Now that he’d mentioned it, you really did love Joel. You loved how he supported you, and how he treated your daughter like she was his own. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to fight for what he believed in, especially when that included socking your ex in the face. You loved his ability to be vulnerable with you, and the way that he seemed to always know what to say at the right time. You loved knowing that no matter how shitty of a day you’d had, Joel would always be there, ready to order your favorite foods and spoon you while decompressing with the worst, most trashy reality TV you could find.

You’d spent all this time thinking that you’d never experience romantic love again, that romantic love was tumultuous and exhausting, when you’d been in love with Joel the whole time.

You were one of those people who were meant to love and be loved. Joel had proven that much to you.

“I love you too,” you confessed, toothpaste still obstructing your mouth.

Maybe love wasn't so bad after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #soccer parents au

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zeroone-eleven · 4 months

Text

Power Naps; Donna Beneviento (Resident Lover)

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Requested? ❌

"Mananatili, sa iyong tabi mag damag."

"To stay, by your side for as long as can be."

Summary: Visiting your girlfriend, Professor!Donna in her office only to find her fast asleep. You try to wake her up, but she turns the tables and has you falling asleep with her on the sofa. It can't be comfortable, but with her trench coat draped over your shoulders you can't find it in yourself to fight the sleepiness off.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

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A sigh leaves your lips as you spare another glance at your watch. You've spent the ast fifteen minutes knocking at the door to Donna's office in intervals but each attempt is greeted with silence. You're never impatient when it comes to your girlfriend, but right now your feet are starting to ache from how you've spent the past fifteen minutes standing outside the door and almost your whole day running around campus to help finalize your club's upcoming event.

You decide to knock once more, giving it another five minutes before you finally knock for the last time and open the door without an invitation- Letting yourself in before immediately shutting the door behind you.

The sight of Donna's office never fails to stop you in your tracks, you haven't been in here a lot but it's stark contrast to how the interior of her house looks like never ceases to surprise you. The walls are bland, and the shelves are empty except for a few volumes of botanical and toxicology texts. A singular file drawer stands behind her seat and the desk is barren except for the tests she's grading, a desk lamp, and a pen holder with a total of three pens in them.

It's said that the way an interior of a personal space is designed can tell you a lot about a person.

You take a moment to wonder why your girlfriend has her walls up so high whenever she's on campus.

You squint for a moment in the dim lighting, and it hits you that maybe your girlfriend wasn't giving you permission to enter her office simply because she wasn't currently in it. You wonder where she could be, you're sure that she's definitely done with her lectures at this hour- And she hasn't gone home yet because she had after all promised that she would drive you back to your dorm today once you were done with your respective responsibilities.

Your questioning thoughts don't cease until after you've looked to your side to find Donna laying on he back on her office sofa, her coat draped over her front- The iconic black trench coat, treated as a makeshift blanket. The sight almost makes you smile, but you take note of how Donna's using the arm rest as a pillow and you frown instead. That's gotta hurt.

You walk over to her side, kneeling on the carpeted floor before you gently brush her bangs away to place a gentle kiss on her forehead and on her scar separately.

"Mahal, wake up. It's almost 7 PM."

Donna's always been a light sleeper, so all it took was a gentle shake to her shoulder for her to start stirring in her slumber. She takes a deep breath before turning her head to face you, a gentle smile taking hold of her lips once her eyes adjust to the dimness of the room and she spots you by her side.

"Hello, Tesoro."

Donna takes your hand in hers and wastes no time in placing a kiss to the back of it. You feel her soft smile slowly shift into a grin when you chuckle at her actions.

"It's time to go home Donna, that couch can't be comfortable at all."

You move your hand to gently rest on her cheek, using your thumb to stroke skin in a gentle sweeping motion. Donna hums, her chest rises with a deep intake of air and her eyes flutter closed again.

"You are correct Tesoro. However, I believe I know of an immediate solution to this issue."

You're unable to get a word out before Donna moves quickly in a flash of black and grey, the next thing you know is that you're lying down on Donna and you're being readjusted so that the two of you can comfortably fit on the couch. A laugh escapes you as your girlfriend peppers your temple and your forehead in kisses.

Struggling against her grip was futile. So you choose to shift until you're comfortable before eventually calming down and just basking in how right it feels to be held in the Botanist's arms.

"We'll regret this when we wake up, I swear-"

Donna laughs without showing her teeth, eyes still remaining closed as if snatching you from the floor and onto the couch with her took no effort at all. She only shushes you before she stats to trace patterns on your back.

"Mia cara flore, that? Is a problem for future us. Right now I simply wish to share the silence and the serenity with you by my immediate side."

She places a lingering kiss to your lips, and you concede to her arguement with a contented hum before pulling away from her and settling down once again. You could never find it in your heart to deny Donna anything she asks for after all.

"A problem for future us. Agreed."

Donna adjusts her coat to cover your frame, the coat now acting as a blanket for the both of you to the best that it can as the ticking of the clock on her office wall lulls you both to sleep eventually.

----------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶-----------------------

Translations:

Mahal - Literally translates to "Love" formally it is a word for the emotion, but it is also used as a pet name for a significant other.

Mia cara flore - My darling flower

#Resident Lover Donna Beneviento #Donna Beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #Resident Lover #Resident Lover MC #Donna beneviento x MC #resident evil 8 #Re8 #Resident Evil Donna Beneviento #resident evil donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #Professor Donna Beneviento #Professor Donna #Professor!Donna Beneviento #Professor!Donna #Professor!Donna Beneviento x Reader #Professor!Donna Beneviento x MC

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daydreaming-in-letters · 2 years

Text

Special

11/16/2022

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: rpf, language, mentions of alcohol, slightly smutty daydreaming, mentions of online dating disasters, slander, pining, mentions of past heartbreak, fluff

Summary: Andrew has been secretly in love for a long time. Will he finally find it in himself to confess his feelings to his beloved?

A/N: It took me quite a while to finish this, but it was important to me that I did. I've been struggling with my writing for some time now and maybe it shows. Still, this one is special to me and one of the most personal stories I have ever written.

Picture by Joshua Newton via Unsplash (edited)

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Andrew could feel the cold creeping up on him from behind his back. What had been supposed to be the last night of summer had turned out to be the first night of autumn instead. Probably sensing the crisp bite of nightfall approach, someone had lit a fire hours ago, back when the sun had still been powerful enough to deceive the rest of them for a little longer. The oak logs, now turned into embers of glowing red, still gave off enough heat to keep the whole group outside way past midnight. Not that he would have needed the fire to keep him warm though. Her sight was more than sufficient to drive away the chill in an instant and provide him with enough heat to turn his cheeks pink whenever his eyes lingered for too long and his thoughts began to wander.

He could have easily sat through the night without their bonfire if only she was there with him. He had to admit though that the fire suited her well, unveiling her full beauty to him once again in all its splendour, like the day he had finally realised he was in love with her.

Dark shadows and golden lights danced across her face, caressing her soft skin with the tenderness of a lover’s touch. With every flicker of the flames, the glossy sheen of her painted lips twinkled enticingly, as if he would have needed the sight to remind him of the countless times he had yearned to taste them. What drew him in most though were her eyes, they always did. But it was here, in the glow of the fire, that they shone like they did only in the rarest of moments, when she allowed her feelings to breach the surface of her usually so reserved demeanour.

The fact that he hadn’t seen her in quite a while only added to the effect she had on him. It must have been a good year ago, but the memory was still as vivid as if it had only been a few days. Andrew would never forget the darkness he had seen in her eyes that day. And he would never forgive the one who had put it there. The one she had called her lover back when lightning had first pierced Andrew’s defenceless heart. The one that sat right here by the fire among all their friends, like Judas among the apostels. Maybe even worse.

With the heed of each and every single one of Argos’ ninety-nine waking eyes, Andrew had watched them all night, searching for even the slightest signs of discomfort on her side, or worse, of phoenix rising from the ashes, but so far nothing alarming had passed between them.

Andrew had always admired former lovers who were able to turn failed romance into friendship, but seeing these two on friendly terms, watching her laugh about his witless jokes as if he hadn’t almost broken her heart beyond repair, made him seriously reconsider the veracity of that belief.

“Oh come on, not again,” someone broke his train of thought with their whiny complaint about the empty cooling bag. “I’m not going all the way up into the kitchen again to fetch you lazy fuckers more booze.”

Immediately more and more voices joined in, eager not to leave their comfortable spots by the fire and walk through the cold and dark of the garden—all but one, and he knew even before her lips had parted that she would take it upon herself to get the supplies from inside the empty house.

“All right,” she uttered with a soft sigh as she stood, “someone hand me the bag. I’ll go.”

Too quick for his brain to catch up on the movement, Andrew found himself on his feet as well and lunged towards the bag, beating her to it without any effort thanks to his long legs.

“I’ll come with you.”

He had feared she would protest, fastening his grip on the handle just in case she would try to yank it out of his hand while telling him she was plenty able to find the way to the fridge by herself. But she didn’t. Instead she just smiled up at him before her lips formed a silent thank you and Andrew was very grateful that his feet somehow remembered how to move on their own.

All evening a thousand questions he wanted to ask her had spiralled through his head. How was she doing? Had life treated her kindly since he had last seen her? God, he hoped it had. Still a part of him wished that didn’t extend to her love life as well and even though he knew it was childish to hope that her heart was still unclaimed because he wanted to make a home in it himself, he did.

But he probably never would. Especially not since telling her about the feelings he had nursed for so long seemed impossible if he wasn’t even able to start a simple conversation now that they were alone. Maybe it was for the best though, seeing that she obviously wasn’t too keen on starting a conversation either.

It hadn’t always been like this, awkward and unfamiliar, as if they had never talked whole nights through, deeply lost in their own tiny universe where everything orbited around music, poetry, literature, mythology, politics, philosophy and all the other topics the rest of the gang found too profound for a night of drinking and light entertainment. He had lived for those moments, loved to pick her marvellous brain until, if only for a brief point in time, he was able to see the world through her eyes.

And now he was standing here like a bloody fool, holding the bag for her in silence while she loaded bottle after bottle of cold brew into it. She was so close to him, her unique fragrance filling his senses every time she stirred the air between them when she turned. It was almost completely blanketed by the sharp stench of smoke. Almost. But not to him. He had memorised her scent like his favourite song, ready to recall every single note of it from memory even after all this time. Yet he seldomly allowed himself to do so. It made him careless, made his mind wander off to a place in which he imagined how she would feel, skin on skin. He wondered if she would taste just as good, her salty-sweet aroma still fresh on his tongue as their bodies became one in heated passion. He longed to feel her breath crawling up his neck as she moaned his name in pleasure, yearned to be wrapped tightly in the warmth of her—

“Andrew?”

The touch of her fingers gently pulled him from his fantasy, away from her and still back to her, back into the bleak reality of the kitchen with its buzzing fridge and cold neon lights.

“Huh?” he muttered sheepishly, his brain still unable to form a coherent sentence after what it had just dreamed up.

His irritation seemed to amuse her, a soft giggle breaking through her concern for a split second before she became serious again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He tried his best to sound convincing, but he knew she could read him like a book and so he was quick to add, “How about you?”

“Me? I’m not the one who zoned out for a moment.”

“True.” He smiled down at her, warm and soft. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” For the blink of an eye the smile she had shot him in return faltered, and when it steadied on her lips again, it wasn’t quite the same anymore. “I’m good. Fine, actually. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I just thought…you know…with him being here and all…”

“Ah, I see.” Her hand found his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze before gliding down the length of it and Andrew thought he could feel her touch in his very bones. “It’s very sweet of you to worry about me, but there’s really no need to. After all it was a mutual split.”

Actually, he remembered their breakup a little differently, but if this was the narrative she had chosen to hold onto, he wouldn’t be the one to crush it for her. But when she pulled her hand away from his, it was her who felt the need to correct that statement.

“Okay, maybe the split itself wasn’t that mutual, but I know now that we had it coming for a long time. And I’ve made my peace with it.”

“That’s good to hear.” Andrew felt the awkward silence lure in the darkness that awaited outside the kitchen and still he needed another moment to gather the courage to ask the one question his heart feared the most and was still desperate to find the answer to. “So…um…are you…is there someone new in your life?”

“God no!” He hadn’t expected that reaction at all and even though he didn’t find his fears confirmed, there was something about her eyes and the tone of her voice that made his heart heavy for her. “I put that hope to rest rather quickly after I started online dating.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Part of him truly was because no matter how much he had wished for her to be single, he would never have wanted it to come at the cost of more hurt.

“No, don’t be. Some of the shit I’ve been through is actually quite amusing in retrospect. Come on, I’ll tell you a few stories on the way back.”

It had taken them quite a while before they could hear the laughter from the fireplace drift over to them again. They had stopped a few times on the way, mostly because he had temporarily forgotten how to walk in the face of the things she had told him. But no matter how he looked at it, amusing was far from the word he would use to describe most of the things she had endured. Disbelief had alternated with rage up to a point that he himself felt awful for even sharing the same sex with this scum.

After what he had just learned, Andrew couldn’t blame her for losing faith in love, not in the least. If anything, he was surprised how well she seemed to handle everything she had been through. In his eyes it was more than admirable. Of course he had known before that dating was seldomly an easy thing, but until now he had never realised what risks it held for women in a world almost entirely shaped by men.

“Promise me you won’t tell the others, okay? I wouldn’t want them to know. Especially not…”

Despite the darkness he could see her eyes shimmer with embarrassment. What for, he didn’t know. She had nothing to blame herself for.

“Of course. I promise. Cross my heart.”

A slender finger moved across his chest in two strokes to support his words and his childlike gesture made her smile. He had hoped it would. What he hadn’t anticipated however was her next move, and as her palm found the very spot he had just marked with a cross, his heart sank into his feet. There was nothing he could do to prevent it from speeding up, forced to stand and watch her catch on to it any second now while he felt its powerful drum underneath the thin layer of skin that covered his neck.

“So, you still seem to get along with Y/N exceptionally well. Any chances for a reunion then?”

Her hand fell away, his fear of getting caught forgotten immediately, when she turned towards the voices. The little group that sat around the fire was still veiled from view by a few thick bushes, but the teasing tone was enough to imagine the grin on the talker’s face. Andrew and the woman by his side were far from grinning though.

“Not in a million years. We split for a reason, you know.”

“Yeah, I totally understand. She’s kind of…special.”

“You can say that again.”

Even in the dim light that reached their hiding spot from the fire, Andrew could see her face fall. Fascinated and petrified alike by the myriad of emotions that flickered in the treacherous gleam of her eyes, he wished he could do anything but watch disaster unfold right in front of him. He might have thought of something, anything, had he known that they were far from finished with their humiliating ordeal.

“Might be the reason online dating isn’t going too well for her.”

“Honestly, I can’t say that comes as a real surprise.”

The conversation was far from over, but Andrew didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was the pair of wide eyes that seemed to stare right into the darkness of the cosmos as her body stumbled back a few steps.

“Y/N?”

The bag fell into the grass with a thud, the bottles inside clinking dangerously, but all he heard was her trembling voice that mumbled an absentminded excuse.

“I…I’m really tired. I should probably head home.”

And with that she just turned, the hint of an apologetic smile on her face, and let the shadows swallow her. For a second he just stood there, frozen in place by the rising panic inside of him, until the faint noise of a shaky breath carried over to him on the breeze.

“Wait.”

But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. And why would she? He had done nothing to stop those eejits from their slander and he couldn’t blame her for assuming it was because he secretly agreed with them.

“Y/N, stop.”

His feet had begun to move at last, hurrying after her as fast as the slippery grass allowed until he could make out her silhouette only an arms-length away and reached for her.

“Please stop.”

His voice was soft, but his hold on her wrist wasn’t. He couldn’t let her walk away from him, not like this. Not before he had told her—

But the moment she turned to face him, the words died away in his throat as he took her in in the faint moonlight, two watery lines cascading down her cheeks like streams of stars. Words would not be enough to make them stop. It was foolish, a gesture born from sheer helplessness in the face of his beloved’s despair, but there was no falter in his hands when he pulled her in and sealed her lips with his own.

It wasn’t at all what he had hoped their first kiss to be like. But at least for a second he could feel her return it, her hands coming up to his chest, fisting the thick denim of his jacket, before she pushed him away.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His honest bewilderment seemed to be completely lost on her. Instead her chin began to tremble dangerously.

“Don’t be kind to me because I’m sad. Your pity just confirms they are right.”

“Pity? You think this was a gesture of pity?”

Her silence was answer enough and Andrew could see her retreat into her shell again. Soon, she would once more shoot him that apologetic smile and flee the scene, without ever knowing that in this very moment, pity was the last thing he felt for her.

“What about this then?”

This time, he knew exactly what he was doing. Fully prepared to be pushed away again, to be yelled at or be slapped in the face, he leaned down. Gentle fingers cupped her cheek and he took it as a good sign that she didn’t shy away from his touch. He waited, one last moment for her to stop him, but she didn’t, and so he closed the last gap between them.

This was what it should have been like the first time. Soft and tender, full of affection, every fibre of his being filled with her until he didn’t know anymore where he ended and she began. Through the haze of his rapture he faintly noticed the soft press of her body against his, unwavering arms wrapping around his neck, and he pulled her closer, securing her in his arms while she moaned her sweet approval into his mouth.

He could have kissed her like this forever, but he still had a point to prove, a statement to make, and so he pulled away.

“Still think this was a pity kiss?” he panted against her lips and when her answer didn’t come, he pulled away further to look at her. He had hoped to be met with the familiar warmth of her eyes, but he found her gaze fixed on his jacket instead, where she watched her own hands adjust his collar.

“Even if it was—”

“It wasn’t.”

“Still,” she paused for a second, “what they say is true.��

“So? What’s wrong with being special?”

“I think we both know they didn’t mean special in a good way.”

Andrew sighed as his palm found her cheek again. “Maybe they didn’t.” He gently tilted her head and waited patiently until she finally decided to look at him. “But I do. I mean it in the best way possible when I say you’re special to me, Y/N. They may be right, you are complicated. But aren’t we all in our own way? That’s how nature has created us, as absolutely unique individuals, beautifully complicated. None of them may understand this, measuring you by society’s grotesque norms instead, but to me you are easy to love.”

“Andy, I…”

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same about me. I just wanted you to know.”

This was it. He had said what he had wanted to say. Now she would try her best to be gentle in her rejection, thank him for his honesty and leave. He would probably not see her again after tonight.

“Fuck,” he mumbled as his forehead sank against hers, “I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Maybe, yes. Then again, I don’t think you could have chosen a better moment to tell me than this exact one.”

His brain had no time to process what she had just said, distracted by the hands that found his trembling form again, one gliding into the warm space between his shirt and jacket, the other smoothing along his cheek and into his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever even consider parting from her in a moment like this. And then he could feel it again for a heartbeat, the feathery touch of her lips on his, ethereal and unreal like a fleeting daydream.

His next words came in a whisper against her own, anxious if he lost their touch, he might wake from this dream after all. “Do you still want to get out of here?”

“Desperately.”

“Will you let me walk with you then? Just to make sure my special girl gets home safe and sound.”

“I think,” she said quietly, her breath leaving a honeyed due on his lips, “that’s the best idea you had tonight.” Slowly he moved, still reluctant to part from her, and it was only when he had secured her hand safely in his own that he dared to pull away and began walking. “Your best idea apart from that pity kiss, maybe.”

“I told you, woman, it wasn’t a pity kiss.”

It was too dark to see her now, the moonlight shielded from them by the thick branches of a fir tree that hung above. And so, there was nothing he could do but squeeze her hand to make his protest known.

“Bollocks,” she huffed teasingly as she squeezed back, causing Andrew to stop in his tracks.

“Do I need to show you again?”

“It surely won’t hurt.”

She squealed in surprise as he wrapped his arm around her middle and manoeuvred her backwards. With a soft groan, her spine was pressed into the gnarly bark of the tree while her head landed securely against the back of a large hand that shielded it from impact.

“Kiss me, Andrew,” she breathed into the expectant silence, her fingers finding his lush curls again and guiding him towards the source of her heady whisper. And he did. Until he could feel the world around him starting to spin. He could have blamed it on the lack of oxygen or the darkness around them that heightened his senses, maybe even on the mere fact that this kiss had seemed so utterly unthinkable by the beginning of this evening, but he knew too well that it was the woman in his arms who made this kiss the most special he had ever shared. A kind of special he vowed to always cherish and never take for granted.

#hozier x reader #hozier #hozier fanfiction #hozier imagine #hozier fic #hozier fanfic #Andrew hozier byrne #special

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storiesbyjes2g · 1 month

Text

3.102 Negotiations

I thought about the whole money tree argument all night, and while I understood Sophia's concerns, it still didn't sit well with me. Dub's words from his note echoed in my head. "Financial freedom to pursue your dreams," he said. I knew she preferred to live a simple life, but didn't she have bigger dreams than just being married to me and raising our children? I heard the TV on, so I got up to address the topic again. My goal wasn't to change her mind—though I hoped she would—but to present my case coherently. I was blinded by the simoleons I didn't even have yet and failed to put a counteroffer on the table. If she could hear my thoughts, maybe she could see it in a different light.

"Good morning," I said.

"Have you ever seen this show? It's so fun!"

"Uhh...no. Can we talk?"

"Of course," she said, turning off the TV. "What's on your mind so early?"

"I want to revisit the money tree situation."

"Okay. Sure."

"You presented your reasons for limiting its use, but I don't think I did a good job explaining why I think we shouldn't, and I'd like you to hear what I think."

"Okay," she said slowly. "So, what's up?"

"You said it would be an insult to return the gift, but I think it would be an insult to ignore Dub's wishes."

Her eyebrow went up a little bit, but she was still tracking with me, so I went on.

"I understand your hesitation, but we don't have to let the money change anything about us. We can be ourselves, but with peace of mind and more opportunities. I think maybe your childhood is influencing how you're seeing this, but so is mine. I'm gonna tell you a different part of my story so you can see where I'm coming from."

"Sure."

"Okay..."

I took a deep breath and hoped my story would work some magic.

"You've been around my parents enough to know my mom is the one with the money."

"Yeah. That's obvious."

"Right. She spoiled us...she still does, heh. But we weren't spoiled brats. We had everything we needed, and a few things we wanted, but we didn't live extravagantly. We went to public school, wore regular clothes, and lived in a middle class neighborhood. For a long time, my mom had an office job. And even now, she still works her candle business. We weren't rich by any means. We were comfortable. I know this because when we went to my dad's house, it was not comfortable. He came home tired every day and didn't have the energy to spend time with us. He never took us anywhere, and there was nothing to do at his house-"

"But that's not what-"

"Wait. Let me finish. I haven't made my point yet."

"Okay. Sorry."

"My grandparents bought my mom a little house and gave her a chunk of money when she moved out so she could have peace of mind and time to explore the world and figure out what she wanted to do without the pressure of bills and working a job she hated."

Sophia nodded and smiled, giving me hope that my story already inspired her to change her mind.

"When we moved out, she did the same thing for us…except for the house, of course. It wasn't a ton of money, but I could have gotten a cheap apartment if I wanted to."

"Or a tiny house," she said, gesturing vaguely.

"Ha! Yeah, I could have afforded this. She's still taking care of us. I keep telling her she doesn't need to keep doing things for us, but all she says is when I have a child, I'll understand."

Sophia nodded.

"Yeah...I remember hearing her say that in Tartosa."

"Yeah... I may not have a child yet, but I do want to give it every opportunity I had and then some. I don't want it to worry and feel how we felt at my dad's house."

"I get that. I don't want that either."

"And what you said about your parents. They were older when they adopted you because it took forever to save the money. If we want to send off our children with a little something, we have to start saving now. We can't wait until a week before they're gone to start harvesting the tree. Maybe we don't take from it every day. Maybe just once or twice a week, or whenever we think about it. But just leaving the tree alone until we need it? That's not gonna give our children the kind of future I want them to have. I want to continue what my grandparents started. I don't think we should waste this opportunity."

She sat there, nodding and staring at me like she didn't realize I was done. But then she turned away, stared at the floor, and sighed.

"Wow... Your family history is filled with so much love and support."

I grabbed her hands, hoping to seal the deal and provide a little comfort.

"Yes. And you're part of that family now. I just want to continue the cycle. That's all. I don't want to start wearing labels and buy a big house in Del Sol. I just want to spend time with my family without consequence."

"I can't argue with that. I'm still not letting you give up on yoga, though."

I laughed. "I didn't expect you would."

"And to be clear," I continued, "I'm not gonna give up. I just don't want to be in a position where I'm still hustling and missing everything going on at home. You'll be here, so I know everything will be fine, but I want to be here too. I want our children to have all the benefits of living in a two-parent house."

"That's beautiful, Luca. I see the whole picture now. I've just decided I'm definitely not to going back to work."

I beamed at her.

"Really?? That's awesome! I love that for you."

"So, what do you think you'll do?"

"I don't know yet. I don't want to give up on teaching just yet, but I'll probably spend more time on SimTube. I have time to figure it out, though. Speaking of the hustle...I gotta go. I love you, Sophia. I love our life, and I can't wait to see how it turns out."

"I love you more!"

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar

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jaxxsoxxn · 2 months

Note

Do you have any Flasharang art

or Headcannons

Henlo Anon! With art amma be slow bc I hurt my hand slightly at work yesterday :') but expect it!

Flasharang hc tho? I have few:

- Boomer pouts, like I love him dearly, but he can be pretty childish, but he fully on has to bite his lip to not pout when he's deeply unhappy at smth. Flash, when not Brainiaced, absolutely adores it. After few months of a relationship, he learns to notice the signs of it being hidden and can't help but smile at it. If Boomer will catch him smiling at it, he'll have to fight the need to pout even more.

- Flash, normally, would be pretty affectionate with Boomer. He's not one to hold back with physical or verbal PDA, and while Boomer might be pretty crude and loud, his ginger genes betray him whenever the other decides to give him a quick peck in front of his team or any other hero/villain, and his face turns red in seconds. He tries to act angry about it - he fails.

- Flash would be way sweeter at the start of the relationship, just to be a horrible tease later. No-one would believe Digger when he'd say that, above GL(Hal Jordan ver.) or other people that know Flash enough to be aware of it.

- Digger takes somewhat the most beautiful pictures of Barry and he hates it. He wants an ugly photo for his contact pic! Give him one!

- On the other hand, Bar takes the worst pics of Boomer ever and he really doesn't want to! But somehow his every pic looks like those blurry, chaotic pics of orange or black cats that do smth they shouldn't be doing.

- Flash loves cuddling Digger from behind. He needs to be the big spoon, he needs to count every little freckle and just keep Boomer safe, even if Boomer doesn't need the protection. It's just something small comforting him.

- The first person in the squad who knows about them isn't Harvey, surprisingly, it's Floyd! He's actually so deep in denial about it for first few days he knows, he shoots Digger looks like he killed his dog. Zoey, on the other hand, adores the fact that her silly uncle Boomer has a superhero bf. Boomerang disappeares from the face of earth for two weeks after learning she knows because he doesn't want to talk about it to her. Flash loves little Zoe.

- Hal isn't even in top 10 first people to learn about the relationship, but he absolutely hates it and for first two months or so, he shoots Digger dirty looks and steps in-between the two when he can. Barry is deeply embarrassed and amused at the same time.

- Boomer usually uses Barry's name in a silly, half annoyed half petty way, but when they cuddle in front of TV and Digger falls asleep to his fave cartoon, he sometimes mumbles it in his sleep, softly and wanting, and all Bar can do is fall in love again.

- Hal and Zoey, when they meet on a hang out caused by these two, are the most chaotic duo ever. She deems him her favourite and only likeable Green Lantern. He fights the tears for the whole day out. Floyd still doesn't trust him much, but his daughter trusts him so he'll give him the benefit of doubt.

- Squad and the other closer coworkers, above Shark and Toyboy, make disgusted sounds or kissy sounds at Boomer every time he mentions Flash. One time a random guard tries to give him shit too, but Flag knocks him out right then and there. Only few people can make fun of him, thank you very much.

So that's about all for now! Oh Lords it's a lil more than I planned, but well

Also, don't fear to send more asks! I thrive off them :P

#idk #probably bad english #bsing trough life #flash x captain boomerang #flasherang #flasharang #Hc #Headcanons #Flasharang hc #ssktjl #suicide squad kill the justice league #captain boomerang #Shipping #Ships #Dc Ships #Anon ask

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mslanna · 4 months

Text

Almost Doesn't Count

Chapter 23 of Be My Guest now on AO3

In which Raphael inopportunely fails to use his single brain cell, Tav gets s big dose of Should Have Seen That Coming and MsLanna fucks lore five ways from Friday before running for the hills.

To Tav's surprise, answers to their letters arrive. Gale sends a whole sheaf detailing everything that happens in Waterdeep. Untouched by the destruction that ravaged Baldur's Gate, life there is easy. His tower stands, Tara forgave his long absence. He fills pages with anecdotes about his students. The gifted ones he functions as a warning to. And the less talented ones he guides onwards with unwavering support and patience.

He ends with a flamboyant and heartfelt invitation, promising to host Tav whenever and for however long they want.

Of course Tav accepts. They will visit, as soon as they can, as long as they want and see his new life, watch him teach and wield magic. All places are equally far from home if you can use a portal to get there.

Astarion wrote less excessive about what went on in Baldur's Gate. He still looks for a way to walk under the sun again and Tav’s heart hurts for him. They cannot wait to follow the slimmest of leads with him. Soon. Once their little problem is taken care off, his is next.

It’s a comforting thought and as solid a plan for the future as Tav can currently conceive of. They will do absolutely everything. At once. It is easier to think about what they will do once Mephistopheles is dead than worrying constantly about the battles and possibility of losing.

Lae'zel's letters read like update reports on her campaign against Vlaakith. Tav takes to drawing little maps and diagrams to keep things partly straight. It occupies time and lets their answers appear not utterly incoherent.

Wyll confirms Tav’s intel that the devils of Avernus leave him and Karlach alone, which doesn't keep Karlach from not leaving them alone. She has a shit list a mile long and with nobody stopping her, she goes hog wild. The main repercussion seen to be offers to fix her infernal engine to get her out of Avernus again. So far, no luck.

There are even a few lines from Karlach who doesn't want to say much because she's sure Raphael reads every word.

It's something Tav hasn't even considered. They discard the thought quickly again as well. On the one hand, they wouldn't mind. On the other hand, they don't believe he'd do it. The stuttering exchange of words with the outside world fills some of the hole Haarlep left behind.

And Tav can't keep away completely. But the visits are short. They brim with unease and the incubus has more fun things to do than endure the awkwardness between them.

Haarlep themselves shrugged the incident off completely. Nothing in their behaviour indicates they cashed in on their friend, if Tav ever was one, for their own advancement. Only natural, they call it and ask Tav to return the favour any time. But for the human it is a breach that runs deep and keeps them teetering.

And then, just like that, the time has come. Tension that rose over days peaks and submerges the House of Hope. Anticipation and exhilaration run rampant. Everybody balances on the knife's edge – dominance or defeat, the decision looms.

"It is not the end, my love," Raphael keeps assuring Tav that clings to him, "but the beginning. Everything will change but for the better. Have a little confidence in the future – or at least in me. Would I attempt this if I could not prevail?"

Tav shakes their head, rubbing it against the fabric of his doublet. The colours are subtly changed – darker, less blue, more red. Change is heralded in their devil's looks as much as everything else.

"Then let us prepare for the final victory over my father." Raphael drops a kiss onto Tav's head and pushes them away a little. In the gained space, hellfire embraces his change into fiend form.

Tav sighs and can't help but smile. He is resplendent. They run loving fingers over the blackened bones encasing golden hellfire. Raphael is a glorious beast in this form and they regret they didn't get to see him fight like this except as opponent.

The three-skulled head lowers to them, it's mane of fire wafting behind. So close to him the air smells of hot iron and dead ashes. Tav inhales deeply as they place a hand against the white bone.

The final "adieu" is already reverberating in Tav's bones but they don't want to spill it. So they climb onto the bed instead to stand next to the crown of Karsus. Their fingers follow the familiar black lines of Raphael's chest unwilling to let go. Such a foolish longing and yet overpowering.

"Can I come with you?" they ask, longing dilating their eyes and words.

"Of course, you can," Raphael replies gently. "Will you die if you do?"

Tav averts their eyes and wipes at them angrily. "Yes," they breathe. Yes, I will."

"Stay then." Black claws pinch Tav's jaw and gently turn it to face the devil. "Be safe as you always were and I will be back."

Tav bites their lips and shores up their tears for later. There is a battle that has to be fought. They pick up the crown that never felt this heavy in their hands before. But this was the last time for a while. If all went well. Which it would. It had to. There would be a break, time to breathe after this.

"Adieu mein Herz, ich kann dich nicht begleiten." Tav's voice breaks and they cannot continue. "Promise me you come back,” they breathe instead.

"I promise." The long tongue lolls out of the snout, licking over Tav's face. "For you."

Tav presses a last kiss on their devil before he turns and leaves.

The air leaves with him and Tav crumbles on the vast bed. Maybe they should have asked for a spot of stasis just to be numb while time passes anyway. Instead it is up to them once more. They scald their skin in the bath, feeling the full expanse of their body, crab red and hurting in an explicable pain that can be controlled.

The soft sheets are scarping on the sensitive skin after wards, another physical experience to overpower the brain. And the pillows and sheets still smell of Raphael and that must be comfort enough.

They wake and wander the House of Hope. The archivist is rearranging the items on display.

"Raphael will bring more treasured items with him from Mephistar," he says. "He will find the archive well prepared."

Tav stares at the empty pedestal where the Orphic Hammer once lay. It makes sense. Raphael has to know the vaults of his father, at least to an extent. There must be things in there he lusted after for centuries.

They watch the bustle for a while before they meander on. But the House of Hope is only so big. Inevitably, Tav ends up in the boudoir. The world calms for the duration it takes them to reach the bed from the entrance. A familiar calm not yet disturbed by a familiar face.

"Will you not stay?" Haarlep asks and pats the sheets beside them. "One last time."

Tav feels the irresistible pull of the incubus. They yield and climb onto the huge bed, sitting at the headboard next to the incubus. Haarlep wraps a protective wing around them and silence falls.

"I will remember you," Haarlep finally says. "When this is all over and long gone; when humans are distant memories and Faerûn a mythical country that exists only in legends told by molluscs. That's more than most humans get. Just so you know."

Tav leans against them with a sigh. It means nothing. Maybe it means something in the grand game that is life. But they recognise an outstretched hand when they see one. "I hope the molluscs are smarter than me and see through your machinations then."

"Oh, they wont." The incubus laughs. "But, as you were, they will be happy for the duration of the game. Me, a generous dispenser of happiness. Isn't that something?"

"Your happiness doesn't come without a cost," Tav murmurs. "It comes with strings attached."

"Oh, sweet little mouse, every happiness does." Haarlep wraps an arm around Tav's shoulder. "There is only one story and that story is that somebody has to leave first. You have to die one death in the end. And so many smaller ones in advance. Take your pleasure where you can."

"The way you do?"

"I decided when to leave first." Their tone is light. "It makes everything so much more convenient."

"But then it turns into a race. A race to leave first." Tav shakes their head. It's no way they want to live. "That race knows only losers."

Unthinking they peck Haarlep on the cheek before extracting themself from their wing and climbing off the bed.

Tav wanders into the library. Infernal will stay in integral part of their life and there is always more to learn. Those devils turned their language into a weapon and Tav doesn't plan to cut themself publicly.

It's unclear how many devils know or suspect Tav understands. They keep their head down and their mouth shut as yet. But one day all the hells will know. By then, Tav intends to have mastered at least sentences of medium length that are acceptably complicated in grammar.

It doesn't matter that Tav can't really concentrate. They repeat every paragraph as often as necessary. When their head hurts and the eyes start to droop, Tav folds their arms over the book, places their head on them, and closes their eyes. It's uncomfortable. But the alternative it to start studying again.

The door doesn't bang open. The fiend entering, closes it as deliberately again and strides towards Tav with confident, measured steps. The human raises their head, sleepy befuddlement replaced slowly with recognition. They beam and climb onto their desk to rise closer to their devil's height.

"Raphael."

The whisper is a prayer and an affirmation. The skulls grin back and for a moment the tongue lolls out of the central one. Long claws mesh into soft fingers as he leans down to touch his forehead against Tav's. It lasts only a moment before the human wraps their arms around the incandescent body.

Then the devil straightens, lifting Tav off the desk and they wrap their legs around his waist. "You're back," Tav murmurs against the hot bone. "It is over."

"Es ist Vollbracht." The words rumble through Tav's body in an avalanche of safety. Burning wings close around them and the towering figure makes its way through the House of Hope, cradling its prize close. Victory is to be celebrated. The library won't do.

Tav snuggles against him like a cool centre to his world. Finally all his. Finally safe. Nothing but a lavish feast will do to herald this state of perfection. When he unwraps the wing-made cocoon a little, Tav looks up and meets his muzzle with soft lips. He has hells to bring to heel and order, but this takes precedence.

# # #

Avernus is lacking in sunrises. Tav wakes anyway. The room is also lacking in Raphael but they will cut him some slack. He won a decisive battle and made time to spend with them afterwards instead of politicking. They stretch feeling the welcome soreness throughout their body.

For a golden intermezzo, they stay under the blanket, engulfed in the warmth and lingering smell of Raphael. Then they jump up. The rest of their life awaits. And it looks utterly glorious.

The door to his study stands open when Tav emerges from their suite. They peer inside and Raphael cuts the conversation with the attending three devils short. He smiles and Tav wonders how long it was since last they saw him him this relaxed. Secure in himself and his life. To think that their safety meant so much to him, made Tav's heart skip. They allow their body to follow suit and bounce into the study.

Their devil rises to meet them halfway around the desk. "Recovered?" he asks and his index finger gently pries Tav's collar from their throat to reveal a crescent of angry red teeth marks framing their shoulder. "You should have said something.

Tav smiles. The bite hums in a circle around their shoulder, saturated with luxurious memories. "I did." They capture the devils hand and press a kiss on his knuckles. "Not sure about the precise wording, but I am certain 'please' was involved."

"It was indeed." Raphael reluctantly retracts his hand. "What do you need?"

"To know what happen." Tav steps into his personal space. "To know how he died."

"It will be my pleasure." With a swift motion, he sits them on the desk, fingers tracing their face. "Where to begin. We fought a long and hard battle before we reached his palace. My father holed up in the end, maybe hoping for a siege.

"But his home was my home as well. And children will build their own secrets, unsupervised, neglected, ignored. Underestimated." He says the last word with a deep satisfaction. And Tav smiles up at him, enchanted, happy, at home. He traces their lip with his thumb. As it should be.

"Mephistopheles had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run that I could not access. His last, most loyal guards, I slayed before his eyes all but one who I turned, right under my father's nose, took trusted loyalty and made it mine." The memory is sweet on his lips, a moment to savour for eternity.

"He was at my mercy. Bargaining as all devils will. You should have seen it. The great Mephistopheles, brought low by a cambion." The surge of power he felt then echoes through Raphael. "He offered me anything, everything I wanted in exchange for his life."

"My contract?" Raphael looks down at the human’s hopeful eyes.

"Of course." The curve of Tav's face is soft in his palm. Of course his father offered the contract. One of his last trumps. One that didn't save him in the end. "He offered me everything I had already taken by force. Offered me fealty even, to reverse our roles. And I will not lie, I did consider it. To have him at my disposal, at my mercy for however long it takes for me to tire of it."

He smiles and kisses Tav's forehead. "Then I thought of you and he received and undeservedly quick and painless end.”

"Thank you." The tremor in Tav's voice burrows deep into his chest. "So it is finally over."

"It is." Raphael wraps an arm around them. "You are safe now. I won't let anybody hurt you."

"And I promise not to sell my soul again." Tav snorts slightly and looks up at him with a lopsided grin.

"Don't worry, that can't happen."

"Can't?" Tav leans back further for a better view.

Raphael slips his index finger under their chin. "You already sold your soul, remember?"

"Yes, but Mephistopheles I dead. The contract is void."

"Unless," Raphael smiles, “the devil is killed by another devil. And that devil decides to uphold the former commitment. Your soul is in safe hands."

Tav's face freezes, then a furrow creeps over their brow. "You took my contract?"

"Of course."

Tav doesn't reply. For a long while they just stare at him. Of course. There is nothing of course about this. They were meant to be free. Mephistopheles' death was meant to free them. Not bind them to somebody else. Not even Raphael.

"Why?" they finally ask.

It is Raphael's turn to be dumbstruck. He looks down at the little mouse, finally well and truly caught. Finally all his. What answer do they expect when this has been their truth from the day they stayed with him in his House of Hope? "To keep it safe, of course. To keep you safe."

"I am safe." Tav shakes their head. "Here with you and in Faerûn."

"So you plan to go back."

"Of course. I want to visit all my friends and help them if I can. I left a life behind and I want it back." Tav blinks and breathes deeply. "The House of Hope is my home, I think of this," they gesture around, "as my home. I will always come back."

The news doesn't go down well and Gale's words echo in Tav's mind. They reach up to cup the devil's face with one hand. "Just as you always come back. I love you and I am yours – body, heart and mind."

"But not soul."

Silence falls and Tav tries to wrangle their uproar of emotions. This is not how it is to go. This is all wrong. They need to get through to Raphael, but their words are slipping through their mind like snakes through sand.

"You want to be here," Raphael finally says. It is only half a question.

"Yes."

"With me."

"Yes!"

"As it was before. Willingly. Body, heart, and mind."

"Yes." Tav murmurs. Hope flares up that they are finally getting somewhere. "But I never wanted to be bound to you by a contract!"

"What difference does it make?"

Tav stares at him, looks at the devil they know as if they see him for the first time. He sees no difference. To love is to possess and if that is impossible to obsess. "If you don't know, I don't think I can explain it to you."

The wobble of their lip is quelled by Tav biting down on it hard. They taste blood but it is a welcome counterpoint to the tears rising in their eyes.

"You are mine," the words fall from his lips hard and final. "You want to be mine."

Tav shakes their head. "Not like that, not like a – a thing. I wanted to be yours but like a commitment, not like a possession." They draw themself up with a long sigh. "If I have to spend eternity here after my death, I better go and see something else until then."

Their shoulders hunch up yet Tav turns away anyway. "Goodbye, Raphael."

The words are soft lest their voice break and Tav walks out of the study with measure steps. They don't turn around or stop until they reach the foyer, calling up the portal to Baldur's Gate. Casting a last, blurred glance around their home, Tav steps into the darkness.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #mel writes fanfic #be my guest #chapter 24 #sleazy second-hand car dealer

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camillafanfiction · 8 months

Text

Africa Calling - Part 1

September 1979

Camilla stretched her arms and with a little sigh sat down on the comfortable sun lounger by the pool again, her legs bent in front of her chest. The first half of September had been unusually warm this year and it was wonderful to soak up the sun. Charles, who was sitting on the sun lounger next to her, was still fiddling with his new video camera. Earlier this month he had captured Tom’s first day of school with it and just yesterday he had filmed how little Laura was taking more and more firm steps, almost running off now.

After a little less than one month after Lord Mountbatten’s death it seemed like Charles was finally starting to really enjoy life again. With Camilla and her wonderful warmth and joie de vivre it felt free and simple, carefree and somehow just… perfect. In April, right after Laura’s first birthday, Andrew had been called to Rhodesia and would be staying there for the foreseeable future without much furlough, much to Charles’s delight. If he had his will, he would probably have moved in by now, Camilla knew. Well, in a way he had, at least since Uncle Dickie’s death anyway… He was spending more time with her children and her than ever before and whenever he was off duty he came around. Camilla, too, felt much happier since they spent so much regular time together, but they both knew, too, that they had to be more careful than ever. With Tom turning 5 in December and having started school on September 3rd, he began to understand and talk more, so they were very careful to not let anything of their love show in front of him.

“Hey, Miss Sexy!”, Charles suddenly said and held his video camera directly at Camilla, who was looking absolutely to die for in a rather small stunning red bikini with white polka dots. One and a half years after Laura’s birth, she’d lost almost all of the baby-weight and looked most perfect, though she had never really bothered about her weight. She’d also grown and nurtured her hair and it was now falling over her shoulders in almost long, golden waves. He loved that length on her, it made her look like a goddess.

Camilla tilted her head towards him, tried to look indignant and breathed a shy “No pictures, please!”, but after a second failed miserably and was only able to splutter and almost fell off the sun lounger.

“Silly girl,” Charles grinned with a shake of his head. “I’m not taking photos, I’m filming you.” And indeed, he was sure he’d taken the most amazing clips of her, capturing her wonderful laugh, her beautiful body and pretty surely he’d even managed to highlight her incredibly sexy venus dimples that he loved so much.

“You’re an idiot.” She rolled her eyes as Charles’s lens came way too close to her cleavage and she playfully put her hand in front of it. “No, no, no,” she laughed. “You’re being naughty, Sir.” With one smooth, quick movement she grabbed the camera and carefully pushed it to the side and into the grass.

“And you’re being cheeky, Miss,” he retorted, saving his camera before he snatched a kiss from her, which suddenly led to a playful tiff, heating up the whole situation out of nowhere. They’d made love not too long ago, earlier this morning, but the tingling and prickling still hung in the air and flushed through both their bodies. Camilla hadn’t planned on it, but she’d fallen madly in love with Charles again just around her 30th birthday last year. Charles, on the other hand, had never stopped loving her and was still head over heels in love. He was crazy about her and would probably be all of his life. At least he couldn’t imagine a day in his life where didn’t love or want her.

“Let’s continue this conversation in bed,” Camilla breathed against the Prince’s mouth. “My legs can’t wait to hear what your hands have to say…”

Camilla looked at Charles in surprise, then laughed and threw her head back, looking absolutely sexy without intending to. “You must be joking!”

Charles shook his head and stroked tenderly over Camilla’s naked back. “I’m being very serious, my darling.” he replied, but he could read on her face that she was still trying to figure out if he was taking the mickey out of her or if he’d suddenly gone mad because of his suggestion.

She turned to her side, presenting her wonderfully full breasts. “Darling, you can’t be,” she shook her head.

“But I am,” he insisted, kissing her collar, which made her smile.

“Are you sure you’re not in some kind of a post-coital bemusement or something?”, she giggled, teasingly running her index finger over his stomach and down to his crutch. It made him moan and she grinned again, lovingly and sexily at once.

Camilla noticed very well how much will-power it took Charles to push her slightly away. “Let’s talk about it with a sober mind, maybe at tea time when we’ve recovered from that wonderful orgasm?!” he suggested with a smirk, making no secret out of just how much he loved that lusty lush life with her.

“Are you talking about mine or yours?” she teasingly poked him in the ribs and they both laughed. Then she propped herself up on her elbows. “How about before the children are running and rampaging around us again?”

Later that day the lovers sat in the garden again, right in the grass with Laura chasing around them as good as she could. The sun was still up in the sky and bees and butterflies were humming in the air. Camilla had well avoided the topic they’d been talking about earlier that day, but she could read on his face that wasn’t through with it yet.

“Lovey,” he nudged her, “I’ve been very serious when I asked you to be my official companion for Rhodesia. You’re the perfect fit!”

Camilla shook her head in disbelief. “In your wildest dreams, darling.” How could Charles seriously consider her as an official companion for the handover of Rhodesia? She was just a mum and housewife and, most of all: his affair.

“You’re absolutely underestimating yourself, darling.”, Charles contered. “Let me tell you why you’re perfect.” He kissed her palm. “Firstly, you’re happily married to Andrew and he’s the leader down there. So, obviously, you want to be with him at that particular event, you’re a proud army wife after all.” He heard Camilla’s chortle, but chose to ignore it. “Secondly, because you’re happily married nobody’s going to think anything when you’re accompanying me.”

“Despite all our friends and the rest of high society…” Camilla interposed with an amused grin.

Charles shook his head and placed his index finger on her mouth. “Thirdly, you know how to behave, are a perfect companion and, first and foremost, you make me very, very, very happy. Just imagine a grumpy Prince of Wales at such an important event…”

“And your family would, of course, totally approve,” she replied ironically, rolling her eyes.

“Well, Uncle Dickie can’t complain anymore and Mummy actually thinks it’s a nice idea.”

“Your mother thinks ‘it’s a nice idea’?!” Camilla raised an eyebrow.

Charles shrugged his shoulders, his face unimpressed. “Yes.”

“There’s no way I’m going to get into a plane for what, 13 hours?!”

“Not even for your favourite little prince?” Charles looked at her with puppy eyes.

“Darling, I’m going to embarrass you… the monarchy… I’m just… you know… your devoted old house wife friend from the countryside…”

“You’re the perfect consort, my darling.”, he encouraged her. “And I’ll reward you graciously”, he whispered into her ear, which made Camilla giggle.

“Fool,” she laughed, but then got serious. “I’ll think it through. But don’t put your hopes up.”

Charles rolled to the side, a content smile on his face. For the moment that was all he needed to know.

#queen camilla #queen camilla fic #king charles fic #king charles iii fic #king charles

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leggerefiore · 3 months

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Could we get an imagine of Cyrus and infant Cyllene during a sleepless night between the two of them

cw: fluff, Cyrus being a dad

Being a father had not truly crossed his mind – ever.

He was careful whenever he dared engage in any kind of sexual activity. Of course, that did not prevent any kinds of accidents, but should he have kept to his usual regiment, this should have never happened. However, it had. A moment of frustration and passion led to the creation of one of the most perfect beings ever to grace this world. With small tufts of light blue hair on her head and a bewildered expression at everything new on her face, he held his daughter carefully.

Cyllene was truly one of the few beings in this world to provide him any comfort. One of the others slept beside him quietly, exhausted from all the stresses a newborn brought home. He had excused you from whatever duties you felt that you had and offered to take over. A tired nod and crawling into bed had been your only reply. Cyrus understood. Of course, this quiet moment was short-lived as the baby monitor began to echo the desperate cries of the infant into the room. He silenced it quickly, taking it with him and creeping off to the nursery quietly.

The door opened to reveal the cries directly to his ears. Cyllene tried to thrash around a bit, but her swaddle had prevented her from doing so. He scooped her up without hesitation, gently bouncing her in his arms. Her big eyes stared up at him desperately, face darkened from the fluster of all her crying. He thought for a moment when she had last eaten but realised it had barely been an hour and that she had drank the whole bottle. Laying her down on the changing table to check her diaper, he watched her face scrunch up again. A confirmation of it not being that either, and her protesting cries led to him instead cradling her again.

Cyrus sat down on the chair in the room and sighed. Was she lonely? He knew they got lonely, but it was time for her to sleep. Her gaze was carefully trained on him. She likely had no clue who he was outside of him being someone who had consistently been there since she was born. Her brain could not really understand difficult concepts yet. As he rocked back and forth with her in his arms. She seemed to calm back down. Her face became something oddly more stoic. As if she had any feelings that she could hide, a chuckle almost left him at the thought.

Slowly, he watched her eyes begin to drift close again, the gentle rocking having seemingly soothed her back to sleep. When she appeared good and unconscious, he laid her back in her crib. Delicate steps were then taken to leave the room. Opting against the bedroom as to not stir you, he entered his office. There was always some work to be done with Galactic now, especially with the public relations needed after his actions on Mount Coronet. His eyes narrowed.

Cyrus regretted nothing. While you and that damned Cynthia had insisted his plans were nothing but madness brought on by his emotional turmoil, he felt that hod actions were truly a kindness. This world was incomplete. The only being he had met who was seemingly complete was… Well, Cyllene. There was no way to describe his thoughts as to how a literal newborn infant was a complete being, but he could tell. Even he failed to reach her levels, no matter how desperately he tried to bury everything inside.

His fingers pressed to the keyboard as the clacking sounds became his only company. If nothing else, he would offer Cyllene the tools to one day remake this world however she saw fit to complete it. Galactic was a piece of that.

Though, he only made it about thirty minutes into the emails that he was going to before the crying began again. Cyllene's small voice echoed out from the baby monitor. He got up and went back to the nursery to confirm that she was truly. Her little body shook from the ferocity of her cries. His chest hurt as he picked her up again. “There, there,” he spoke almost as he normally did to her, “You are fine, are you not? There is no need to continue that.” She seemingly stopped at hearing his voice, little head turning to him.

He checked her diaper again and changed it upon seeing that it had indeed been soiled this time. Her cries, however, did not stop when he went to lay her down in the crib again. He pressed her head to his chest, letting it rest above his admittedly racing heart as he softly bounced her. This took another ten minutes before she began to drift off again. He returned her to the crib and left again in short order.

His hand had just grasped the office doorknob when her cries started up again. He entered the office, recalling words that it was fine to leave them alone for up to five minutes to see if they truly needed anything or if she was just refusing to sleep. He waited. She did not stop. He entered the nursery and once again held the small girl in his arms. She felt impossibly tiny. Would she truly grow into an adult human?

“My dear Cyllene,” he spoke softly to her, “What is the matter?” She, of course, could not reply but stared up at him again. Cyrus carried her out of the nursery and headed towards the kitchen. Maybe she had become hungry again. It was now approaching two hours since her last feeding.

A painful experience of making a bottle with only one-handed occurred, as any attempt to lay Cyllene down anywhere resulted in more tears. Soon, it was made, and he had sat down on the couch. The nipple was in her mouth as she slowly began to drink the milk. He sighed. Time passed slowly as she fed, and he allowed his mind to wander. Had his parents treated him like this? He could recall such a period in his life. His eyes stared at the infant with a strange sadness.

If there was only one thing that he could Cyllene, it was that he would not allow her to experience what he had growing up. He would not care if she was too quiet or if she preferred to keep to herself instead of focusing on making connections. If her hobbies were unconventional, he would still allow her to explore them and not force ones that she would despise onto her. He sighed as she finished the small bottle and began to close her eyes again.

This time, he kept her in his arms.

She did not wake up for another hour.

You chuckled at the sight of Cyrus passed out in the chair in her nursery in the morning.

#cyrus.ima

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julietas-basil · 2 years

Text

This is a short fic,that erupted in my mind after drawing a random scene for hand and head placement. The drawing is under the 'keep reading' cut. Hope you'll enjoy!

Also celebrating mental health awareness and what is truly defined as masculinity

(if your ego is hurt get out of my blog please)

--------------------------------------------------

Agustin is more self-conscious about his accident prone nature,despite getting the unconditional love from his rightful wife,his mind never fails to attack him in dark hours. Julieta is there to resurrect his mental strength and devote her work to close his not-confessed wounds.

"𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓵𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓭𝓮 𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓶𝓪𝓼"

Julieta never complained for what made Agustin as a whole. His imperfection being all about she fell in love with,no excuses but the truth. Whenever her eyes glanced at his presence her stomach lit up with thousands of fireworks and as many years went by Noone could admit she was wrong...

When she healed him everyday,the sigh that oh so frequently huffed off her lips; 'Ay Agustín-' wasn't one of a woman who had been fed up from his constant injuries. In fact, was one of her favorite times during the days was the comfort of his presence,the one that she lingered to have next to her for as long as it was possible. The loving mother of his children,his paraíso embraced his clumsiness long before he could even notice and offered her world to him since 7 years before the married their souls as one and created a wonderful Familia.

Nevertheless,Agustín felt like one of her biggest burdens 2 times,3 times,4 times waiting on that long line. Poor man just couldn't stray away from accidents as much as he wanted,resulting in appearing in Julieta's healing line on repeat. Something inside him ached whenever he glanced at her delicate features alter slightly when she sees him.

He sensed that he was an obstacle to her overbearing routine,that seemed to absorb much of her energy even during the nights. They were married for years now and the same doubts could never dissappear from his mind it was like a nightmare that threatened to overrule his whole existence,like a wolf hunting its prey before consuming it ;all of it.

He messed up his hair,his fingers interlocked around Greyish locks with hatred,gripping onto it. He didn't care anymore of how destroyed he looked,the monster hiding in the labyrinth of his heart was much more scary than this. Angry tears begun rolling off his eyes and down his cheeks -like heavy rain- like his soul was grieving from loss,wetting his freshly shaved mustache. He winced and hissed as the salty liquid entered his cuts,his fists clenched.

The thoughts in his mind kept twirling around invading his peaceful mind non-stop,eating up every sanity he had left. With unknown force,His knuckles collided powerfully with the wooden surface of their bedroom door. Another shot of anger rushed through him,wanting to scream so loud but he couldn't...he didn't want to worry Julieta again (it was the very last thing he desired). The tall man let out a couple of cursing words,massaging his bruised and swollen knuckles in the process.

Without knocking, Julieta stepped in with a curious look on her face,her sweet smile never loosing its form.

'Maybe dolores heard-'

Agustín squiled surprised (thinking),instantly turning his back to their bed. A great way to hide his almost broken hand behind his back. Though, there was one thing he didn't hide, as the younger adult was too busy fighting with the evil within his head to take care of.

"¿Amor, estás bien?"

Julieta stepped onto the dressed floor cautiously,glancing more intentionally towards Agustin,who now looked like a deer in the headlights. She rushed her feet towards his form, her hands gently placed on his cheeks, rubbing them in reassurance-

Whatever was torturing his mind she wanted to know,if there was something she couldn't bare staring at was her dear esposo dying in secret-

"Agustín,mi cielo

please tell me what's wr-"

He burst into tears,how could he think he would be so strong to hide everything from his wife,who had only loved him so much-more than anyone in his life- the teardrops fell like waterfalls now,coating the healer's hand.

"I'm sorry,I'm sorry,I'm sorr-"

There he was again,apologizing for what wasn't his fault,for what made him the person Julieta went head over heels for. She stroked his burning flesh with her thumb. Speaking up before he would mutter any other nonsense-

"Shh, don't cry Corazón,it's okay..."

She just remained there,

She didn't bother asking what was scratching his wounds. The cook kept staring at him,more like every detail of his soul... Wiping off, the stained remainings of his internal pain. She let a nearly silent exhale,her face now becoming a mirror of his own sadness. And yes she was sad for him, not because he was crying again but mostly for what could partly and quite possibly be her fault. She pushed his face on her chest and Agustin snaked his hands around her waist,hugging her closer than ever. His trembling breath warmed the side of her neck, she didn't care though,all she did was to brush his fussy hair currently.

She understood everything she had to understand now. It was obvious-

Her hands,managed to caress his most catastrophic fears out of his back,while whispering the sweetest of whispers and kissing his mind off the chaos that vandalized his happiness. From that moment after,she made sure to leave a remark of their love every time he visited for a healing arepa and he adored every single part of it. He made sure that his presents were also promised,some nights they had to themselves.

And he was weak for the tears that glistened down his fair skin;he was rather strong for growing four wonderful flowers in his heart that held him each hour he seemed to trip and fall into his self-doubt...

#encanto angst #encanto fluff #hurt/comfort #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #omg #so oof #encanto #i was so happy for this #big thanks to julietaswifey for helping out with this #kisses #encanto fic #cute #depressed agustin wasnt my intention #agustin shouldnt be depressed #but i hc he was at some point we are all hoomans after all

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gifseafins · 1 year

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This fanfic exists for the simple fact that I watched "Vinaya Vidheya Rama" and I simply LOVED THE WHOLE MOVIE, and I will defend it until the end. Even if I have to fight Ram Charan himself for that !

This is my first time posting a fic of mine on Tumblr, and as soon as my computer is fixed, this fic will get what I call a "deluxe version" on AO3. Where she will receive the addition of images, gifs, poetry and everything necessary to make this story, which I loved writing, something perfect ! So, until then, happy reading everyone. *

* Fanfic: United family and a toast to the brothers. * And then, as scary as the day it all began, it was over. I was dead ! My dreams… My life… My pride… All destroyed because of the violence and corruption of a single man. I could no longer hug my beloved wife… I wouldn't see my children and my nieces grow up… I would never see my dear father again… I would never have fun with my brothers again… And I wouldn't even be there to see my little Ram get married…

That man hadn't just destroyed my dreams. He had destroyed the dreams of peace and the future of an entire city. And maybe that's why I haven't found my peace. Maybe that's why I couldn't move on.p

I can't say how long I stayed there. Stuck on that hill. Trapped in my own ashes. Trapped in what's left of my own body.

Life passes differently when you're dead. It was like I was a lightbulb that was constantly turned on and off. When accessing, I could see everything that happened around me. Otherwise, everything was dark.

I saw my brothers mourning my death… I saw the men I worked with helping my brothers build my pyre… And I saw Ram holding my body in his arms the whole time… And from everything I witnessed, nothing hurt me more than that !

The Ram looked so small. The last time I saw him cry like that was when we found him next to the train tracks. Such a fragile baby, fighting with all its might for its own life. The whole time he cradled my body in his arms as he apologized to me.

-I'm sorry I couldn't save you ! I'm sorry for not being able to protect you ! I'm sorry brother ! I'M SORRY !!!! You trusted me and I failed you. FORGIVE ME !!!!

My little Ram. My younger brother. My older son. The miracle of our family.

And I was there, in front of him and dead. Unable to comfort him and tell him the truth. Unable to tell him that all of this wasn't his fault. That nothing that happened was his fault.

As the pyre was lit, the vision around me began to slowly fade. And I just listened to incoherent snippets of my brothers' conversation.

Protect the children… Change address… Fake phone calls… Protect sister-in-law… Taking care of the family…

And then everything turned to darkness !

I can't say how long I was in the dark. But I knew some time had passed by the time everything cleared up and I could see my family again. And how I missed them…

My precious children. Their laughter, their hugs, their voices screaming "DADDY" whenever I came home. My adored wife. Your affection, your love, your courage. My beloved father. From your wisdom that guided me so many times in my life. My dear brothers. Of our moments together, our laughs, our togetherness.

My whole family was there. On that hill. In front of my ashes. In front of what's left of myself.

The moment my wife touched my ashes, I could feel my soul connecting with her. I knew that in that moment, wherever she went, I would be with her, until I could finally leave. Until I can find my peace.

And it was filled with terror and fear for my family that I saw my wife ask Ram how to find the man who killed me. And it was filled with pride in her that I saw her defy this very man. Limit that killer to the nothing he was ! Never once looking away or ducking his head. Challenging that open-chested assassin. With a soul full of courage, love and justice !

My beloved wife. The first woman in our house. Our leader. Our pillar. The matriarch of our family.

The strength of his scream echoing loudly through the streets of that city. Demanding the presence of the guardian angel of our home.

-RAMA !!!!

The pain in his voice demanding what no one up until that moment had done. The strength in his voice demanding justice !

And Rama obeyed her. He always obeyed her without question. Respect from her for her always unbreakable. The memory of Ram himself telling me why this devotion he had to my wife, days after my wedding…

-A sister-in-law is the closest I will ever have to a mother and I promise to respect, obey and protect her forever, even at the cost of my own life !

And there was no way not to be moved by that young man before me. With his own hand on his head making me that promise. There wasn't a moment in my life when I wasn't proud of that little boy. From our beloved Ram.

The same pride as what I felt now. Seeing him take that man's life. Seeing him deliver that city from that criminal. Watching him bring justice to me and so many others unjustly killed by that murderer.

I wish I could hug you. Say how proud I was of him. But all I managed was to place my hand on his shoulder. And to my complete surprise. Realizing, that in that moment, my beloved wife could see me.

And in the peace of your eyes I found my own peace. And the certainty that everyone would be safe, that they would have a future, that they would be happy !

Now I knew I could leave. And that's what I thought would happen when the image before my eyes started to fade. And everything started to be replaced by a very strong and bright light.

But the light was gradually fading, and an image was forming in front of my eyes. I was standing in my living room. In front of me, my portrait adorned with a flower necklace.

All it took was a quick look around me. One small glimpse of my home decor, and I knew heaven had given me a gift. The blessing of being able to witness Ram's wedding !

And it was wonderful. Every moment was perfect. Seeing that baby covered in ants and fighting for its life. Become a worthy man, and full of love. And today to be able to see him take the first steps towards creating his own family. It was a gift that I would always be grateful to heaven for bestowing on me !

When I saw my father sitting alone in the corner at the party, I went over to him and gently touched his feet. And with great surprise, I could feel my father's hand on my head, blessing me one last time.

When I lifted my eyes to look at him, I saw his eyes glistening with tears. There was so much love in that look that words weren't necessary. There weren't even words that could replace everything I could see at that moment, in my father's eyes.

My children's laughter broke this moment, and when I looked at them, I witnessed the most beautiful scene of my life.

The Ram was at the center of the party, carrying my children in his arms. While my brothers danced around the three of them.

And I realized that one of my fears at the time of my death was needless. My children would never be orphans like I once was. My children would never be alone.

They had a brave and strong mother for them. They had uncles and aunts who would love them as if they were their own children. They had a kind and gentle grandfather.

And they would always have the Ram. The shield that would protect them from any danger. The sword that would fight for them in any battle.

My kids would be fine. They would be safe. They would be happy. And my dad's voice beside me telling me exactly what I needed to hear. To finally allow the light that surrounded me, embrace me completely, and take me to the place where my soul could rest.

-The Ram told us that you asked that in another life, you could come as children of the same mother. But my dear, look at our family. Have you ever seen so much joy in one place ? It's like every day is one big festival.

And there was no way I could disagree with my father at that point. Despite all the difficulties, joy has always been a predominant force in our household.

-I don't know who united our destinies so beautifully. I don't know who made you and your brothers so similar. But I know that the lines of a hand don't come together like you did. I know that fingerprints on a hand don't identify a person like love did our family.

And my father's words bringing to my eyes the memory of every moment I lived in my life.

-I don't know where your stories began, but the moment you entered my life. You and your brothers have become the beats of my heart, the stars in my sky, the flowers in my garden. And every night my only wish is that in all the lives that I have been granted the grace to live, we can be together and under the same roof.

And I was sure that if it were possible for a spirit to cry, I would have been in tears at my father's words.

-There is no meanness in this house, every heart has a place, its value, its space. We are a family where everyone walks together, and towards victory. You and your brothers were people on your own, but when you got together, you wrote a beautiful story together. You are like musical notes, which alone are just noise, but when they come together, they make up the most beautiful song. There is a library of bonds in this house my dear, and none of the blood is greater than this !

And again I bowed my head before this man, who not only gave us a name, but gave us a home, a future, building his family together with us. And as I was kissing his feet, again my father's voice reached me.

-I love you my dear, we will love you forever !

And in that moment, since my death, I found my own voice again.

-Me too my father, I will love you all forever !

And the light that surrounded me began to envelop me completely before I could lift my eyes and look at my father one last time. But I knew in my heart that just as he was able to see and touch me, he was also able to hear me… * THE END * And that's it folks. To everyone who read my fic: Thanks ! To everyone who liked what they read: Comment, please ! To everyone who didn't like what they read: Be kind when saying why ! To all who hate Vinaya Vidheya Rama: Get away from my tumblr IMMEDIATELY !!!!

Despite loving writing this fic, it's been a long time since I've written anything, and that's why I'm tagging you.

@meastradeur @avocadohertl @hachinana87 @rosayounan @jjwolfesworld @fangirlshrewt97 @jrntrtitties @bheemaxrama @ronaldofandom @ladydarkey

I need feedback on how my writing is going. Read, comment, please!

#Vinaya Vidheya Rama Fanfic #Vinaya Vidheya Rama Aesthetic #Eu Fiz

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pacificwaternymph · 1 year

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Fanfic writer ask game, sorry that this is a long list:

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

💖 What made you start writing?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Any parent-child dynamic, especially of the found family variety, makes me go weak at the knees. Something about the unconditional love of parents, man. It just gets to me. So like any of Shrub and Xornoth's interactions in the Wolf Mother.

The chapter after the full moon detailing the aftermath, where Shrub learns that Xornoth jumped off the balcony and gradually grows more and more horrified as she realizes that once this kid actually becomes more comfortable being himself she is going to have her hands full? Had me dying.

I'm sure you'll notice hurt comfort is my BRAND. A lot of my works have themes of healing, dealing with complex emotions and trauma, and reconciliation, and put a heavy emphasis on deep interpersonal connections between the characters.

A good deal of my family does, actually. They've known about my writing ever since I've started. I've never let them, you know, read any of it, but like yeah they are aware of it. And as for friends, a fair number of my friends are also consumers and producers of fanfiction, so yeah they all know.

Not really? Whenever the motivation strikes. Which just so happens to be... right before I tell myself I'll go to bed.

Love love LOVE!! I adore hearing what you guys think of my stories, all of your ideas and suggestions and predictions, it's so so so wonderful to see that so many people read my stuff and like it, it's so surreal.

I had a really vivid image for a story in my head and was frustrated that I didn't have the art skills to draw it out. So I turned to using my words as an alternative. I've been doing this for about 5 years now.

Characters fearing being hurt in some capacity, only to be treated with kindness. This usually takes the form of a child character who is used to cruelty being adopted into a loving family, but also fairly frequently shows up as an antagonist I'm attempting to redeem expecting some sort of harsh punishment for their actions and instead being faced with, if not forgiveness, then at the very least a willingness to hear them out and a demonstration of the heroes' goodness.

Depends. Sometimes I'll completely wing it, like me not doing any research for my pirate au and just going by vibes alone, but for some specific things as well as topics I want to be able to give an accurate and respectful depiction of (such as disabilities, different cultures, religions, etc.) I'll go a little more in depth with my efforts.

Snippet beneath the cut:

Having wings was… different.

Xornoth wasn’t quite sure how he felt about them yet. Growing another pair of limbs overnight wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, to say the least. He could only remember vague flashes, a searing pain in his back that wouldn’t abate no matter what he did. He remembered a hand in his hair and concerned voices surrounding him. But other than that… nothing.

He’d faded in and out of reality the entire time, horrific flashbacks so lifelike Xornoth almost could have sworn they were real plaguing his every moment. But the one thing he knew for sure was that his mom had been there the whole time.

- The first couple of paragraphs from chapter fifteen of the Wolf Mother

#ask game #she speaks!!#kid xornoth au

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volantium · 2 years

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when the light is sweet & heavy

a small halloween fic for @sheps-shepherd ily 🎃🧡 | read it here on ao3

The season turns into October, when the light is sweet and heavy. Orange leaves are carried to their final resting along the breeze. It is the month for resurrection, to cast off the year as it approaches winter, to begin anew without consequence. Without fail, Harley finds himself dreading the possibility of it all over again.

Harley’s never really been one for Halloween.

Mainly, cause, well, his father walked out on them close enough to the day that Harley always thought it was some elaborate trick or treat thing, a horror movie with a happy ending where he would come back with the world’s fill of candy with him just to see his kids smile. But he never came back, and Harley took Abby down to the square cause Ma worked thirteen, fourteen hours to make ends meet in the aftermath.

They were young, that first year, and each year since has been an exercise in not thinking too hard about where his dad is now. If he has other kids he’s taking out trick or treating, while Harley’s left to trail along behind Abby in her homemade fairy costume, the only one looking after his kid sister in a town where Halloween is a family affair.

Rose Hill is small. Small enough that all the neighbours know about the Keener kids, small enough to whisper behind their hands whenever they spy Harley and Abby, for reasons even Harley doesn’t understand anymore.

He thought it would’ve got old by now.

At least school calmed down. Probably helped that Harley has anger issues and a protective streak a mile long and been in detention more times than he can count. Harley’s calmed down a little, too, after Tony Stark crash landed into his life and decided he’d pay for this random kid’s therapy.

Abby’s on the edge of fourteen now, young enough to still want to dress up and go out but old enough to insist she can absolutely go by herself. And when little Miss Annabelle Keener wants something, by God is she going to get it. Normally. This year, Peter makes all the difference. She absolutely cannot wait to drag Peter around the town, and Harley tries not to let his guilt show.

Harley’s still not really sure how they swung it. Peter should be in New York at some party and Harley should be alone to trail behind Abby as she goes door to door. Instead, they’re here, together in Rose Hill—a rarity in itself that Harley’s stopped looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. Peter’s only been here for a day and a half, and yet his presence is enough to soothe something in Harley’s soul. But it is Halloween, and Harley’s never been able to fully shake the shroud that falls around him each and every October.

Harley begs Peter’s forgiveness, one night, when they’re curled up together in Harley’s single bed. It’s far, far too small for the both of them. Harley’s pushing six foot two and Peter’s got too many pointy elbows and knees for them to be truly comfortable. But they make do, with Harley plastered against the wall and Peter tucked into his side, playing with Harley’s fingers in the cool fall night.

It’s not overly late. The sky is still a hazy, faded blue twilight out the window. Dinner is cooking, slowly in the oven. Harley wishes he could spend his whole life in this moment. He’s so rarely content in this house anymore.

Harley doesn’t know what makes him say it. Maybe it’s the way he’s noticed Peter watching him, when he thinks Harley isn’t aware, or it’s the way there’s only Halloween decorations around where Abby is most throughout the house. Maybe it’s just Peter and the fact that Harley’s never been so singularly understood by another human being before.

“I’m not—I’m not dressing up for Halloween,” he says, voice catching over the admission.

Peter’s fingers still, twined gently with Harley’s. Peter blinks up at him, brown eyes warm as caramel. Harley knows he’s ruining the moment. Can feel the slowly built peace of the evening crumble around him like sand. Peter is so excited for Halloween, bouncing-off-the-walls-only-beaten-by-Abby kind of excited. But something sits just below Harley’s breastbone, pushed tight into the very curve of him that’s ready to snap.

“You wanna tell me why?”

Harley shrugs, as much as one can when laying sideways. “You know the shape of it,” he says, because Harley’s made too many self-deprecating jokes about his absent father that Peter doesn’t not know the general story. “Dad left around this time of year. It’s always been... Difficult, I guess.”

Peter hums in the back of his throat, a sound that Harley’s come to recognise as Peter’s way of just letting him talk, of letting Harley feel out his own thoughts aloud. He tells Peter the immediate reaction–his mom’s, Abby’s, his. That first Halloween, when Harley sat by the door all day waiting for his dad to appear. That night, taking Abby out, because she was too young to know any better, walking behind her with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, waiting patiently at the end of every driveway. Even as young as she was, Abby shared her precious haul with her brother, has done so each year, and it’s one of the few things that makes Harley smile in October. Runs roughshod over everything since that first Halloween, the way Ma disappeared for a while, the way the town seemed to make a mystery out of the Keeners, or what was left of them. How it’s all tangled up in the knot in his chest and in the parts of him that make him Harley, and how he doesn’t think he’ll even get dressed up for Halloween ever again.

He sighs, heavily, at the end of it, the story told.

“It’s just not something I do,” Harley finishes, lamely, suddenly self-conscious.

Peter doesn’t say anything for several minutes, which doesn’t help Harley’s growing anxiety. Harley opens his mouth, probably to make a fool out of himself, but before he can speak Peter’s hand is untangled from his and is cupping his cheek, Peter’s fingers sliding into the wheat-blonde hair around Harley’s ear.

Peter kisses him, then, soft and gentle, easily, like he doesn’t even realise that Harley’s world stops revolving every time. Harley sighs into it, draws the moment out, curls his own hand into the fabric of Peter’s collar, just to hold him there.

When they pull apart, Harley taps his forefinger against Peter’s collarbone, an absent-minded tick, settled by the warmth of his boyfriend’s skin.

“Darlin’?”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t ruined your Halloween, have I? I’m sorry.”

“Of course not,” Peter replies, instantly, much to Harley’s relief. “The fact we get to spend Halloween together means the world to me. The how doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to apologise for, baby.”

“Okay,” Harley’s voice is unsteady even to his own ears, as if he can’t quite believe his luck.

“Hey,” Peter says, just as low, just as carefully. “I’m so proud of you. And it’s okay that you’re not going to wear a costume.”

Harley presses his own kiss to the centre of Peter’s forward. “Thanks, darlin’,”

“I guess that ruins MJ’s idea of us going as the Scooby gang, though,” Peter muses, eyes flickering over Harley’s face. “You’d make a good Daphne.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harley says without any heat, smiling.

They lay there in comfortable silence, until they eventually have to get up and finish making dinner. They’re halfway down the stairs when Peter breaks the quiet.

“Well, you know what, I’m still wearing my suit,” Peter declares. “I think it’s hilarious.”

Which leads them to now, a day later; Peter, pulling on his old pyjama-looking Spider-Man suit. It looks like it hasn’t seen the light of day in several years, which probably makes it look more like a costume than anything practical or used by a superhero, which is rather the point.

“Tony will have your ass if he finds out you’re wearing that,” Harley points out.

“You better not tell him, then, Keener,” he shoots back. “Besides, there’s going to be a million other kids dressed up as me, it won’t even matter.”

Harley huffs a laugh, more at the fact that Peter thinks there’ll be a million other kids in Rose Hill (population approximately one thousand, four hundred and seventy-three) than that there’ll be kids dressed up as Spider-Man. Harley’s sure they’ll see some. Maybe like one, or two.

Harley rolls his eyes, voice skeptical. “Right.”

Harley shoves on a beanie and his tattered denim jacket, and follows Peter out to the porch steps, where they find Abby patiently waiting, pillowcase in hand.

She’s dressed up as a zombie pirate this year, in a fashionable array of paraphernalia that Harley has no idea where she got from. Probably the school drama department.

“Finally!” She exclaims at the sight of them, jumping up. “We’re losing daylight people, let’s go, we need to get to the Johnson’s before all the good stuff is gone.”

“Who are the Johnson’s?” Peter asks.

“They’re—” Harley begins, only to be cut off by Abby.

“Walk and talk, come on!”

“Oh my God, okay,” Harley says instead, grabbing his keys and herding his sister out the gate, Peter bringing up the rear. “The Johnson’s are Rose Hill’s premier Halloween connoisseurs,” he throws over his shoulder, putting on a stuffy accent.

“And they have the best candy,” Abby chimes in.

“And they have the best candy,” Harley confirms.

It’s not a long walk, about twenty minutes until they start hitting the houses all bunched together near the town centre. Abby points her plastic sword in the vague direction of the Johnson’s, and sets out with a very determined bounce to her step.

Harley falls back to watch Abby point out each house they pass to Peter, the ones they’re all going to visit on the way back home. The old man who only has gumballs each and every year. The couple who pretends they aren’t home but have always sent Abby on her way with chocolate when she knocks. The street is teaming, vampires and witches and one Frankenstein running back and forth between the houses.

The Johnson’s place sits right on the corner, prime real estate, and also the busiest house by far. Their front yard is full of skeletons and tombstones, a witches brew full of candy by the front door. The miracle of the Johnson’s place is that it’s a free for all—the Johnson’s themselves are probably elsewhere with their brood.

“Wow,” Peter says, taking in the house, the fake cobwebs that cover the roof, the red lights in the weeping tree that make it look covered in blood, the giant carved pumpkins that frame the doorway.

“Yeah,” Harley replies. “It’s like this every year.”

Abby takes off, nearly diving headfirst into the giant cauldron of candy to get at the best bits. The Johnsons always have Warheads, which is what Abby’s truly after.

Peter watches her go. “She really likes Halloween, huh?”

“She really likes the sugar rush.”

Peter snorts, and then wades in after her. Harley watches as Peter’s marginally longer arms are utilised to their full effect as Abby makes him reach down to the very bottom, hand emerging with at least ten packets of Warheads.

Harley waits at the end of the driveway, like always, hands in his pockets. It’s not that he hates Halloween itself. He used to love it, too, before everything. But now it’s just an unnecessary reminder of all the other happy families in this God forsaken backwater.

Peter returns to his side, passing a Snickers bar to him. “They really do have good candy.”

Harley agrees, unwrapping it to take a bite.

“Where’s Abby?” He asks around the mouthful of chocolate.

“I think she ran into her friends,” Peter says, and points over to where their zombie pirate girl is, standing with a clown with a knife through her head and a fairy princess.

Harley nods, about to tell Peter which is who when a voice behind them calls, "Harley!" and turns to see PTA mom Miriam Johnson in the flesh.

Before Harley can say anything, Peter slaps a hand across his chest. Harley looks down at said hand, then to Peter, down again, back to Peter.

“Babe, what—”

Peter shushes him. “Look.”

Besides Miriam is her son, Zac, dressed up as Spider-Man.

There’s a beat of silence, where Harley watches his boyfriend go wide-eyed. For all of Peter’s confidence about the suit earlier, Harley knows there’s a part of him that is worried. Worried that wearing the suit would make him stand out, so far from New York. Halloween is about being somebody else, and here’s Peter, with his secret identity on display, without even the mask to hide behind.

Harley knows Peter still melts at the sight of little kids looking up to Spider-Man, too. One day he’s going to convince Peter to see himself the way the rest of the world does, the way Harley does.

“I know, Pete,” he murmurs, low enough that Miriam nor Zac can hear him, as mother and son come to stand in front of them.

Zac points at Peter; Peter points at Zac; Harley can’t help himself and completes the triangle in perfect meme mimicry. Zac’s only like, eight, but he’s a funny kid. Harley used to dog walk for the Johnson’s before he started working at the mechanics.

The three of them laugh, and then Peter’s dropping into a crouch in front of Zac.

“Hey, there,” Peter says, holding out his hand. “I’m Peter.”

Zac looks at Harley, then up to his mom. Miriam gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Go on, kid,” Harley says. “He doesn’t bite.”

Peter flashes a look over at Harley, but then Zac shakes his hand with childlike enthusiasm, “I’m Spider-Man!”

“Me too, buddy,” Peter says with a private smile. “You out here keeping Rose Hill safe?”

“Yep! And I have candy!”

Peter fishes a piece out of his own pillowcase, one he stole off Harley’s bed, drops it into Zac’s outstretched hand. “Here you go, Spider-Man.”

“What do you say, Zac?” Miriam says.

“Thanks, Peter!”

Peter stands back up next to Harley. “You’re welcome.”

“Hi, Mrs Johnson,” Harley says, polite to a fault. “You guys having fun?”

“Yes, Harley, thank you,” Miriam says, kindly. “Who’s your friend?”

It’s not that Harley particularly cares what Miriam Johnson thinks, or the rest of Rose Hill for that matter, but there’s a moment of stomach swooping anxiety, so far ingrained into him by growing up in the Bible Belt. But it’s Peter who answers, unaware of Harley having a low-grade panic attack next to him.

“I’m Peter,” with hand out again in repetition. “Harley’s boyfriend.”

Miriam’s eyes flicker back to Harley, in that way only straight white women do when they suddenly find out someone they never imagined would be is queer. The butterflies in Harley’s stomach settle when all she does is shake Peter’s hand.

“Oh!” She exclaims, and the butterflies kick back up again. “I didn’t know Harley was dating anyone, Macy didn’t even tell me.”

Harley knows with utter certainty that his relationship status will be common knowledge within the next couple of days, but in that moment, he’s never loved his mother more.

Harley shrugs when Miriam looks at him, as if he owes her some explanation.

Peter laughs, awkwardly, recovers quickly enough to ask, “How do you know Macy?”

“We went to school together,” Miriam answers, which is typical for almost the entire population of Rose Hill at one point or another. “Where are you from, Peter, you don’t sound like you’re from here?”

“He’s from New York,” Harley chimes in. “A regular ol’ city slicker.”

“Isn’t that where your Spider-Man is from, Zac, darling?”

Zac nods his head, several times, looking at Peter with a newfound sense of awe. Peter shoots a poorly concealed look of panic Harley’s way.

“Zac,” Harley calls, grabbing the kid’s attention. “Peter’s even met him, once or twice.”

“No way.”

“Yes way,” Harley replies. “Haven’t you, Pete?”

“Uh—sure, yeah, I have,” is Peter’s fumbled response. “He’s really—cool.”

Harley smothers a laugh.

“Whoa," says Zac, bright and wide-eyed.

“Isn’t that exciting!” Miriam says, utterly oblivious.

Peter stands there like a stick in the mud, and Harley’s left to wrap things up.

“Anyways, we better go find Abby before she takes your whole stock of Warheads,” Harley says.

“I made sure there was extra just for her,” Miriam says, smiling at Harley. “Tell your mother I said hello, Harley.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And it was nice meeting you, Peter.”

Peter gives her a hundred-watt grin. “Likewise, Mrs Johnson.”

Zac waves in their direction as he and his mom walk off. Peter turns to him with that grin still on his face.

“What did I tell you, Harl?” Peter says, as they head back into the fray to find Harley’s sister. “I’m not the only one dressed up as Spider-Man.”

“Tony’s still going to kill you, man,” Harley replies, but there’s a smile creeping over his own face in light of Peter’s delight.

They find Abby conspiring with her knife-clown and fairy princess friend, swapping sweets in the orange light of the carved pumpkin.

“Abby,” Harley calls, grabbing her attention. “You want to go to some of the other houses?”

“Can Lucy and Cam come, too?”

Harley nods. “As long as their parents are fine with it.”

“We already asked,” knife-clown pipes in. “They’re cool.”

They trek out of the Johnson’s yard and back into the street. The sun is starting to disappear below the horizon, gilding the red leaves with gold. Harley and Peter walk ahead of the girls, hand in hand. They can hear the girls talking, can hear Abby explain who Peter is with a ‘and they’re holding hands! gross!’ Peter and him snicker together, and their kiss is greeted with a chorus of bleughhhhh behind them.

It’s the first Halloween in a long time Harley remembers being happy.

The girls and Peter go from house to house while Harley meanders along, thinking about how this year everything is different but not really at all. The melancholy’s still there, lingering perpetually underneath the surface, haunting him like a ghost. But waiting at the end of the driveway for his sister and his boyfriend seems easier this year, compared to the past.

They get honeycomb candy from the couple who pretends they aren’t home, run into Abby’s (and Harley’s) old teacher dressed as a witch, somehow manage to shove too many gumballs into already teaming pillowcases. Knife-clown and fairy princess shout their goodbyes at the end of the last street they walk down, hours after they found each other at the Johnsons. Dusk has given way to dark night across Rose Hill, and even Harley’s starting to feel it.

Abby breaks first, plopping herself down on the side of the road. “I’m tired.”

Her overly large pirate hat is slipping down across her face. She yawns big and wide.

“C’mon, bug,” Harley says, dropping down into a crouch, his back facing Abby. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” Abby says, not even putting up a fight, and hands off her sack of candy to Peter.

Abby clambers into the piggyback half asleep, her arms loose around Harley’s shoulders. Harley stands, carefully, hitching her into place for their walk home.

“Hey, Harley?” Abby whispers, voice quiet but still loud enough for Peter to hear. “I had a lot of fun this year.”

He hums in acknowledgement.

“You should keep him,” she says, and Harley doesn’t have to ask who.

“I’m planning on it, bug,” he whispers back, catching a glimpse of Peter’s small smile from the corner of his eye.

“Oh,” Abby’s head comes to rest against Harley’s shoulder, her voice sleepy. “That’s good.”

They’re back on their own street, the house down the very end. The light on the porch is visible even from this distance, glowing sepia yellow in the night.

“Bug?” Peter murmurs, after a while, looking at Abby, fast asleep.

Harley glances at his boyfriend. “She went through a period right after Dad left when she refused to answer to Abby or Annabelle, not even to Ma. Bug was the only thing that worked, and even then, it was only me who could use it to any effect.”

Peter nods, once, and Harley knows he’s slipping that thread of the story into the elaborate tapestry that makes up the Keener siblings. Neither of them point out how it’s only Peter who’s allowed to use Harl.

“I’m glad she had fun,” Harley says, some small admission that isn’t lost on Peter.

“Did you?” Peter asks. “Have fun, I mean?”

Harley takes a moment to really think about it. He leans over, presses a kiss to Peter’s cheek.

“Yeah, darlin’, I did.”

October passes between one breath and the next.

Peter smiles at him, as warm as the sun.

#parkner #parley #harley keener #peter parker #drabble #p: parkner #u: mcu

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ctrlaltsoob · 2 years

Text

07. overdoing it - take a hint (csb)

summary: worrying about anything else couldn’t matter less to huh y/n, who cares so desperately at beating the one and only choi soobin in absolutely everything she can. although maybe there are some things than only can take the trophy for first…

or where two people fail to realise that the line between love and hate is very thin, even though they might be the smartest in their studies.

warnings: swearing, empty threats

a/n: i feel like this is progressing too fast help i’ll try to slow it down in the next few chapters

06. cowardice | masterlist | 08. the ointment of a flower

more under the cut [wc. 2.3k]

choi odi is the cutest thing in the world. there is no doubt about it. how choi soobin is capable of looking after such a delicate animal is beyond you. there’s just something about the way he walks around cautiously, sniffing everything around him with his cute little nose that has you constantly fawning over him. his cuteness almost makes up for that damned interaction last thursday.

it was simple. he would drop round your place with his pet, stay for 10-15 minutes to ensure that odi was happy, and then go home and leave you in peace with his hedgehog. simple.

except nothing is ever simple when it comes to choi soobin. it’s like one thing has to go wrong whenever he’s around. firstly, he brought kai with him without informing you, not that you minded of course, but due to your complete inabilities to properly interact with one another, his reliance on kai’s presence made you feel like an absolute nobody in your own home. secondly, having park sunghoon as your beloved cousin means that he randomly crashes at your place unannounced. given the fact that you had forgotten to tell him that you had agreed to look after the devil’s pet, the chaos that ensued once he noticed the beaten up pair of converse high-tops at your door gave you several unwanted headaches.

and your poor, unsuspecting mother. had she not come home early that day, the whole ordeal would’ve been five times better. perhaps even ten. the moment you heard the door unlock a second time that day, you knew you were fucked.

“sunghoon, how many times have i told you to organise your shoes — soobin? is that really you? come here!” the sirens in your head were way too loud for comfort. seeing your mother embrace satan’s spawn in her arms was definitely not on your new year’s bingo card.

how you wanted nothing more than for the ceiling to come crashing down you on right then and there. save for the panicked look on sunghoon’s face, the confused glances kai threw at you made your head spin.

“have you and y/n finally patched up again? i knew that this day would come. you know, me and your mom were talking about this the other day,” you love your mom, but you wished that she would just stop talking before things got worse. “how have you been?” the forced smile on soobin’s face made you feel like burying your head in molten lava.

before he could’ve open his mouth and make things worse, you hurriedly spoke. “mom, this is our friend kai,” you gestured towards your friend who smiled and bowed towards her. this was not how things were meant to turn out. you pointed at odi, who was roaming around in the playpen that soobin had set up in your living room. “this is the pet that i’m looking after while they go abroad. do you want me to heat up some food for you?”

“i’ve already eaten, it’s fine,” the look on her face showed that she didn’t fully believe you. thankfully after what seemed like years of questioning, your mother left the four of you behind, a thick blanket of awkwardness left in the air.

safe to say that whole encounter was cursed. to this day, your face still burns when you remember the look on his face while your mother talked her mouth off, holding his arms as she did so. you pray that kai has forgotten the entire incident by now.

soobin, on the other hand, curses his friend’s memory. sightseeing in new york was meant to be a fun activity, not a spontaneous Q&A.

“what did y/n’s mom mean by that?” the younger boy prods his friend’s side, him reeling at the sudden intrusion. soobin bites the inside of his cheek as beomgyu’s head shoots up from looking at his phone.

“what do you mean by that?”

“when we dropped off odi at her house, her mom came home and said something like ‘have you and y/n finally made up?’ she even hugged him and shit,” kai blinks at soobin, who was now trying his hardest to avoid the prying eyes of his two friends.

damn you, huening kai. “it’s nothing. she was probably referring to the prom incident,” he replies rather stiffly, despite his best efforts to remain neutral.

“you still haven’t explained that, by the way.”

beomgyu, who was now watching agony and discomfort creep into his friend’s facial features, as opposed to the usual anger and disgust when talking about you, clears his throat and points at his phone. “the museum’s about to close soon, so if we want enough time to go around and see all the artwork then we should go now.”

“alright,” kai shrugs, throwing one last confused glance in soobin’s direction. “i’ll go get the others.”

watching as kai’s figure gets lost in the crowd, beomgyu nudges his shoulder against his clearly agitated friend. “she still remembers, you know.”

he sighs. “i know.”

sometimes beomgyu pities his helpless friend. seeing the way that soobin picks at his finger nails while bouncing his knee up and down makes him feel almost sorry for the man. “you know you can just talk it out, right?”

“i don’t want to.”

now beomgyu sighs. why is his friend so stubborn? all this unnecessary sad shit, and for what? isn’t it so much easier if people just talk? for such an intelligent man, choi soobin truly lacks common sense.

“leave me alone. stop judging me,” soobin mutters, rubbing his eyes as he finally turns to glare at him. “i can hear your thoughts from here.”

“well if you can tell that i’m judging you, then maybe you should listen to your conscience and fucking talk to her. i feel like i’m watching a shitty drama,” beomgyu deadpans, soobin scoffing throwing him further into utter disbelief. “your life would be so much easier if you used that head of yours and thought for once.”

“i don’t need to talk to her, and i don’t want to talk to her,” to beomgyu, the grimace on soobin’s face as he says this makes his word’s slightly less believable. “she irritates me. i irritate her. we don’t need to talk, simple.”

“you’re so fucking stupid,” beomgyu resists the urge to physically face palm right then and there. “you say you don’t get along but it seems like you still trust her enough to let her look after odi.”

“that’s a different story.”

“is it?”

soobin shuts his mouth as quickly as he opens it to speak. of all places, why did beomgyu have to tear him to pieces in the middle of times square? all this questioning was beginning to make him prefer kai’s sudden curiosity. he buries his head in his hands, unwilling to hear anything else his friend had to say.

“just leave me alone,” he mumbles. why was his head suddenly spinning? it’s just you that they’re talking about. “we’ll sort it out someday.”

“we’ll?”

soobin groans. “no i meant—“

“you know, she called herself odi’s mom,” beomgyu begins, cutting him off completely. “and if you’re his dad, and she’s his mom, then essentially—“

“for the love of God, give it a rest, beomgyu,” soobin loves his friends, but beomgyu was driving him to his wits end. he doesn’t know why he agreed to have you as odi’s baby sitter without much of a fight, nor does he know why throughout this entire trip, his mind has always drifted to you. he also doesn’t know why at every mention of you, he feels lightheaded. he tells himself that’s just how much you piss him off; you piss him off so much to the point where his head spins and his palms get sweaty. maybe he feels his face flush and his heart beat a little too fast for his liking whenever your face gets too close to his as you threaten him, but that’s just part of the experience, right?

beomgyu can see the internal conflict brewing in soobin’s mind. does he feel bad about causing such calamity between his two friends? maybe, but he justifies it by saying it’s about time that they put this silly little rivalry behind them and become friends. well, perhaps not friends, but at least civil acquaintances. it’s for the benefit of their whole friend group really — beomgyu has made it his goal to see the first peaceful group outing this year, with both you and soobin not throwing insults at each other’s throats, not threatening to rip each other’s heads off, and not storming out for ten minutes and then coming back to start the cycle all over again. on behalf of your group, he just wants you two to be friends. bonus points if you become friends that end up kissing — preferably not in front of him though.

but that’s a plan for another time.

the small seed of doubt beomgyu’s been planting for some time seems to have grown into a little sapling. he can see throughout the trip how soobin has to physically stop himself and think about what he’s doing. does beomgyu know for sure that he’s thinking about you? no, not really, but the way that he spends a little too long in the giftshop by the flower-themed section helps confirm his hunch.

“soobin, why are you taking so long?” sunwoo complains, walking over to his six foot something friend with several bags in his hands. “who’s this even for? don’t tell me you’re simp shopping.”

a quick glare is thrown in his direction. “this is for my mom, you sewer rat,” he rolls his eyes. sunwoo looks at his friend weirdly, the slightly stumped expression on soobin’s face throwing him off.

“you don’t remember your mom’s favourite flower? what type of son are you?” sunwoo checks his watch, ignoring the prominent scowl on his face. “just call her. we need to go soon.”

soobin’s head shoots up at his suggestion. “i can’t,” there’s an unreadable expression on his face, as sunwoo stares at him clearly confused. “we’re abroad, and it costs more or something.”

now beomgyu can tell that something’s definitely up. money isn’t an issue for choi soobin, especially not when he’s bought a different sim card purely for this trip. there would be no reason for him to be unable to call someone, especially if it’s his own mother.

sunwoo shrugs at him. “well just hurry up. yeonjun’s hungry and taehyun needs to piss. he refuses to use the toilets here because they’re disgusting,” he scrunches his nose, also disgusted by the state of the facilities. for such an expensive place, sunwoo thinks that the toilets should at least be of a satisfactory condition.

“yeah, i’ll be done in like, five minutes,” soobin waves his hand dismissively, almost trying to shoo him away so he could make up his mind. would it be better to get one bracelet of each type of flower, or one bracelet and one keychain? what flowers were they again?

beomgyu hasn’t seen his friend at this level of thought for quite some time now. he thinks it’s sweet that he’s putting in this much thought for… his mother, was it? he watches as soobin selects a blue bracelet adorned with small flowers, and a keychain of a bouquet of another type, an apprehensive look on his face as he looks at the two souvenirs. whoever this was to be gifted to was lucky. the shop was insanely overpriced.

as soobin taps his card on the reader, he can’t help but wonder if he’s doing too much. it’s just a simple thank you, he tells himself as the cashier gives him the bag. what’s wrong with saying thank you? after all, his mother always taught him to be grateful and repay those around him.

“how grand of you, choi soobin,” beomgyu muses as he looks down at the bag of souvenirs he carries. “what flowers did you pick out?”

“forget-me-nots and tulips,” he pauses, noting how his friend eyes him up and down suspiciously. “they’re for my mom.”

“for your mom?”

“yes.”

“something tells me you’re not telling the truth.”

“well i am, believe it or not,” soobin huffs, eyes suddenly interested in the setting behind him. “let’s go find some food before jun eats a lamppost or something.”

was he overdoing it? sure, he might’ve picked the wrong flowers, and perhaps he may have spent a little too much money, but if his beloved pet was being kept safe for nearly a whole month by someone else, then it would be cruel for him to not say anything. there’s nothing wrong with this, right? it’s just a harmless way of him showing gratitude for you.

wait a minute. gratitude for you?

choi soobin must have been replaced. why the hell was he showing gratitude towards you, of all people? the soobin six months ago wouldn’t have even thought about you, let alone have bought two whole souvenirs from an overpriced giftshop in another country.

and to make matters worse, the thought of you rejecting his offering gnaws at his gut. as he follows his friends to the chosen restaurant of the night, he bumps into a random person on the street. so what if you reject his gift? why the fuck was he suddenly overthinking everything?

yeah, he’s definitely gone insane.

#choi soobin x reader #soobin x reader #soobin fic #soobin smau #txt fic #tomorrow x together #social media au #ficscafe

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