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ussgallifrey · 4 months

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Home for the Holiday | Part 3

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 9.9k

✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.

[Master List]

You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.

The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.

“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”

You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.

The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.

“What’s with the iron?”

There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.

“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.

Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”

He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”

Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.

“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”

“Got it.”

He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.

For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.

“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”

His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.

“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”

His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”

After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.

No, this was nice.

And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.

“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”

He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.

Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.

Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.

His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.

“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.

“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”

His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”

And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.

And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.

Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.

Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.

Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.

Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.

Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.

“Well, what do you think?”

You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.

And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.

“You look good, by the way.”

Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.

“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”

He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.

“You ready to go?”

Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”

With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”

Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.

Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”

“Ha,” he chuckles. “Come on, I know a better place.”

Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”

Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.

“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.

“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.

He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.

Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.

There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.

“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”

He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”

Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.

“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.

“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”

Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."

After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.

“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”

He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.

“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”

You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”

Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”

Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.

Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.

“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.

He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”

“Compared to yours?”

That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”

From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.

So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:

“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”

His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.

“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.

“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”

Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.

After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.

“Yeah, probably.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.

“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”

Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”

The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.

Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.

You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.

Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.

And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.

As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.

In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.

“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”

Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.

“Do tell.”

You chuckle as he turns the wheel.

“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”

“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.

With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.

“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”

You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.

“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”

“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”

With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.

“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.

“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.

“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”

You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.

“Sure know how to distract a guy.”

With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”

Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.

“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”

That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.

The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.

Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.

And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.

The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.

You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.

“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”

With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.

“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”

With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”

“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.

“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.

He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.

You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.

Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.

With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.

You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.

As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.

Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.

“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.

“Mhmm,” you manage.

A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.

“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.

With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.

To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.

“Uncle Jake!”

Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.

“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.

A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.

Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.

From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:

“Who’s that?”

You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.

“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”

The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”

Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.

“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”

“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”

Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.

If you had to take a guess...

“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.

Bingo.

As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.

“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”

Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.

“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.

Ah, brother number two.

“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.

You offer your hand in return, along with your name.

“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”

Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”

Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.

You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.

Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.

The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.

From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.

Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.

Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.

Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.

“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”

Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.

With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.

A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.

“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.

Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.

“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.

Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.

“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”

He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.

You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.

Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.

It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.

Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.

Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.

The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.

You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.

“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”

Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.

Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.

Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.

You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.

“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.

When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.

“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.

“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.

“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.

After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”

You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.

Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”

“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.

The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?

“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”

Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?

He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.

You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”

But Jake doesn’t.

And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.

“Something you wanna say?”

The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.

She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.

“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”

“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.

“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”

The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.

“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”

Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.

Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.

As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.

“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.

The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.

Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can say in return.

“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”

With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”

She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”

Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.

“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”

For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.

He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”

Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.

“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”

“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”

You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.

“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”

Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.

Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.

You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:

“Baby?”

With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.

Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”

But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.

Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.

Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.

Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.

You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.

Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.

Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.

But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.

This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.

With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”

It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.

“What?”

“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”

The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”

His brow raises ever so slightly.

“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”

With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.

“Oh, absolutely.”

When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.

“God damnit, you’re right.”

You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.

He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.

“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.

But he presses forward despite it.

“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”

He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.

“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”

Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.

“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”

“Jake...”

Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.

“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.

Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.

“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”

And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.

“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”

“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.

With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”

“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.

Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.

He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.

But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.

Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.

While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.

Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.

June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.

The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.

“Out like a light.”

“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.

The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.

“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”

You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.

“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.

Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.

“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.

“Same for you,” he adds a second later.

Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.

“How long have you two been flying together?”

Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.

“Three, almost four years now?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”

Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.

“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.

“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”

At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.

“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”

That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.

Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”

“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.

At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?

And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.

You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.

“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”

Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.

“You. You’re worried about him.”

“Comes with the job,” you say.

A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.

“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”

Your brows pinch, “That bad?”

He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”

You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.

He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.

Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:

“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”

You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.

“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”

Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.

“Okay.”

As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.

Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.

“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.

“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.

“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”

A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.

“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”

Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”

Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”

Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”

The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.

“And Pita too?”

Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.

“Yeah, her too, honey.”

Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.

Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.

The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.

When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.

But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.

His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.

After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.

And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.

“Should have never did this to you.”

You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”

It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.

“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.

Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.

“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”

Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.

“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”

Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”

Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.

“Well... at least it’s over.”

You hum in response.

Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...

Your stomach turns at the thought.

Alone.

After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.

Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:

“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”

You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.

“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”

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#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fan fic #series: home for the holidays #my fic

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writingsfromhome · 5 months

Text

If you Love Something II

A/N: okayy I’m finally going to stop overthinking and just post this one. Please note the tw in part 1. Thank you all SO much for the comments and love on the original…hope this one meets ur expectations. It’s definitely more focused on the lost daughter relationship rather than you and Harry so p dense but...here it is 🫣

——————————————

Age 36:

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Harry informs me over the phone. “I went with chicken noodle soup.”

“Mmm,” I close my eyes. “I could use something hot and hearty right now. I’m freezing my ass off.”

“I didn’t need to make dinner for that.”

“So come here, warm me up,” I crane my neck to the left again. “Stupid delays.”

“I can come get you."

I’d mapped it out before calling Harry, it would take him too long to get here. “That’s alright. Doesn’t make a difference.”

The screen on the platform showed 6 minutes…for the past 15 minutes.

“I’ve either been living in the longest minute of my fucking life,” I mutter. “Or this line is taking the piss out of all of us.”

Two dozen of us had gotten off the last train when it announced it was out of service. Now the number on the platform had tripled waiting for the next one.

“Patience,” Harry says. “Is a virtue.”

“Easy for you to say in the warm flat with the chicken noodle soup.”

“It’ll be yours soon.”

Soon. I sigh and try to release the anxious energy with it. “Thank you for taking care of dinner.”

“Of course.” He replies. Like it was that simple. But being with Harry was like that nowadays.

Despite all the catching up we had to do with the 17 years we had lived separate lives, emotionally it’s like we picked up where we last left off.

I’d be lying if I said it was smooth sailing the whole year we’d been together. There had been a hard few first months where both of us felt unnerved by the peacefulness of the relationship. We weren’t used to such an easy quiet.

I’d tried to self-sabotage first by going awol and working longer hours than I needed to. I think I was scared Harry would wake up one day and realize too much time had passed and he didn’t like who I’d become so I minimized our time together. Until Harry called me out for it.

But then he went off the rails, and for a few weeks I’d been an even bigger ball of anxiety. Ultimately I had to give him the hard truth even though the last thing I ever wanted was to convince someone to stay with an ultimatum. But I’d told him, he had to at least attempt sobriety if he wanted us to work.

There were a few sleepless nights, I didn’t know if we were going to make it. But one morning he asked me to go to an aa meeting with him.

Going together, being in the same boat as a group of people gathered in the back room of a dusty church finally gelled us together. For good. He’d been sober since.

We moved in together 7 months ago. Even though it doubled my commute time—tripled with delays, I had never been more sure that I was exactly where I needed to be.

We held space for each other. Even the heavier bits; we knew what they were. What it was like to hold them on our own. We always joked about how our loads had halved despite taking on half of the other’s. Because just like our venn diagram of love, our venn diagram of hurting was the same.

“Oh god, I better not be hallucinating.” I nearly jump up and down when the twin headlights of the next train peek in the distance. The platform board still says 6 minutes.

“You’re cutting up what?”

“Nothing! Train’s here!”

“I’ll pick you up from the station.” Harry says before I hang up.

I spend the remaining 15 minute ride going over the lecture I’d given tonight.

3 years ago when I applied to be a lecturer I didn’t actually think I’d get it. But in the 10 years of my career I had collected, I had done exceptionally well. It was ironic with all the bullshit life threw at me, I had somehow channeled it into a determined work ethic. After failing many math tests in high school I had found a love for it in uni—it made me work hard, get out of my head with its constant thoughts. Harry now took to calling me a masochist for teaching something mathematical.

In reality it wasn’t that mathematical. I taught Management Econ which was a snorefest on paper but I tried to be engaging and include a whole host of ways to teach—I knew not everyone excelled with a textbook.

It had made the course popular, it went from being offered once a semester to 3 times this year because the waitlist spoke for itself. It was one of my proudest accomplishment—getting students motivated and interested. And because it was mostly first and second year students, they were still eager and not jaded by the uni system.

That was how I spent my evenings on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Otherwise I worked for the city the same hours Harry worked his creative exec job at a major firm in the city. Sometimes we met up for lunch. It was the little things like that, making time to see each other in the middle of the day even though we woke up and fell asleep to each other, that made this relationship feel so secure.

It felt like coming home each time I caught sight of his face, and knew his smile was just for me.

My thoughts drift to our daughter. She would have celebrated her 18th birthday a few weeks ago. I always lit a birthday candle for her, this year Harry and I bought a cake and a symbolic drink for her. Our baby was old enough to drink.

“Do you think she takes after her parents?” Harry had asked.

“I think she grew up alright.” I always imagined her to have. “I hope she has no reason to drink herself silly.”

“Being 18 is reason enough.”

We talk about her often. She slips into conversation as easily as inhaling. It keeps her with us.

When I spot Harry’s car at the station I nearly weep.

“Your cheeks are so cold,” Harry says after a peck hello. He holds them both in his heated hands and plants exaggerated kisses on each cheek.

“Please sir,” I kiss his mouth and continue in what Harry called my Oliver Twist accent. “Take me to the chicken noodle soup. I hunger.”

Harry responds in the same accent (although it wasn’t as good as mine) and pretty soon I’m forgetting the 20 minute delay, the lecture with 100 technical difficulties, and anything in between.

After dinner and completing my 20 step night time routine I crawl into bed beside a cozy-looking Harry.

“Whatcha reading?” I peek at his book. I can’t believe he was the reading-before-bed type. In a way it was so different from the 17 year old guy I knew. It was also a reminder that even though we knew each other through and through, there were still so many habits and stories and quirks to discover.

“It’s a boring as hell sci-fi novel, don’t ask.”

“Then why are you reading it?”

“I accidentally joined a book club at work!?”

He tells me the story of how he told some people he enjoyed reading, and then being unable to say no when they bought this month’s book for him and presented it to him a week later.

“I bet you that’s their ponze scheme. It’s like an MLM, the latest recruit has to guilt the next joinee. You’ll be doing it soon.”

Harry laughs and holds his book out to me. “That actually brings me to my next question with this very generous gift, do you like reading?”

“Nope.” I push the book away. “I also don’t like book clubs.”

He tosses the book down lightly. “Damnit!”

We laugh. I cuddle into his side and lay my head on his chest as he finishes his chapter. His heart beat is steady, like the life he’s helped me create as we committed to each other. I listen to it as it lulls me to a calmer place.

“So how was work? How’s your students this semester?”

“Work’s good. Same old right now. Teaching was interesting. It’s the second week of classes so still seeing a lot of people come and go. You start to see the regulars by week 3.”

“Full class?”

“Almost,” I tell him. “A few empty seats. There was one girl who was obviously watching tv the whole time, another guy that fell asleep halfway, and this other kid kept looking at the door like he was physically trying to decide whether he would stay. Weird lot.”

“They won’t be there next week.”

“Nope.”

“You think she’s starting uni? I wonder what she’s decided to study.”

“Mmm, I always think it’s something creative like you.”

Harry squeezes his arm around me. “I think she’s a masochist like you.”

We talk more about her, about the upcoming weekend, and as sleep visits we drift away still intertwined like most nights.

***

“Does anyone know why?” I ask the lecture hall. Just like I predicted, most of the people I knew wouldn’t make it were gone. Now there were just under 60 students in total. What had surprised me was the guy who looked nervous the second week stayed. He’d been joined by two friends who only showed up in week 4. He was probably the designated note taker.

A girl to the left puts her hand up and I point to her. “The growing gap between upper and middle classes?”

“Yes.” I give her a reassuring smile. Until I started teaching, I forgot that most answers they gave were questions. “Anyone else?”

The girl beside nervous guy puts her hand up. “The ageing population, it skews the demographic from what was initially projected?”

“Exactly,” I try not to show favourites but that was beautifully said. Maybe she didn’t need to come to all the classes.

“That would also affect the workforce,” a guy sitting in the front pipes in. I smile, pleased that a discussion was forming.

A few others join in and I nod at each point. I loved this job.

After class is over I always got a few stragglers asking questions. The nervous guy comes up to me.

“Um professor,” he hitches his backpack and glances back at his friends. “For the assignment due next week, can groups of 3 be okay?”

I glance at his friends, it was supposed to be in pairs but what the hell. “Sure. But I’ll need extra stuffing in the assignment to make up for it.”

I say it with a joking tone but he’s so wound up that he takes me seriously.

“Of course. We’ll increase the citations and make sure to include more research-“

“Philippe,” one of the girls is suddenly a few feet away.

“Thank you.” He says, finally meeting my eye. I smile and he relaxes. I turn to his friends, to acknowledge them but they stare at me like I’d grown a second head. One of the other students asks her questions and I turn my attention away—weird.

***

“Mid-terms?” Harry asks. I’m reading a textbook while I stand over the simmering pot. We had accidentally ordered 4 times the tomatoes on our online order last week and with three still left I’d decided to batch make spaghetti sauce. It had been a long time since I made it from scratch.

“Kind of.” I push the book aside. “Someone in the department wants to update the textbooks and they left notes in the old one for what needs updating. They asked me to take a look.”

“That’s cool,” Harry walks over to me. He smelled like cologne and outside, the way he usually did right after he came home on chillier days. “That he wants your opinion?”

“She actually,” I poke him. “And it is! I can’t believe I get paid to lecture about one of my passions.”

“Economics,” Harry makes a face like he smelled something bad.

“Makes the world go round,” I smile sweetly.

“Remember when you liked things that were cool like Harry Potter and Coldplay-“

“I still like them! If I recall you’re the one who motivated me to do well in maths.”

“I did?” Harry looks off into the distance but his slow smirk is evident that he was remembering. He tilts my chin up and brushes my lips. “You’re right. So how about now? Would that still work?”

“Do you want me to stroke your ego right now?”

“Amongst other things,” he muses, his hands drop down to my hips and then lower, giving my bum a squeeze.

“Cut it out,” I scold him but it’s cancelled by the smile on my face. I shake my head and go back to the simmering pot.

“Is that tomato soup?” Harry’s suddenly distracted by the pot. We’d been having a lot of it this week because…well tomatoes.

“Nope, I’m making spaghetti sauce. From scratch.”

“Hey, didn’t you make that one time? When we were kids.”

“Hm,” I think back. It felt like so long ago but something niggles at me. “I think? I used to help my mum—it’s her recipe. Maybe you had dinner on a night we made it?”

“Yes. Dinner at your place, around Easter.”

I remember that Easter clearly but not for dinner. It was a night Harry and I had talked our lives all out.

“Aw. We were so young then.” I wrap my arms around Harry.

“I’m still young,” Harry says. “I’m in my prime.”

I pat his cheek. “Of course you are love.”

***

“Taylor I can’t really do this right now!” I tell my sister as she whines to me. No matter how old we got we were always somehow 17 and 12.

“C’mon just call mom! Tell her you met him and he’s really awesome.”

“I’m not lying to mom so you can invite your newest loser boyfriend to dinner. Anyway I can’t talk. I have to get to class!”

“I know.” She says weirdly. And I understand why when I walk into class and see her sitting in the front row. Ugh she knew I would try to blow her off!

My sister had somehow taken up the bad habit ever since her mid-20s of having a string of shitty boyfriends. We all blamed it on her longterm bloke breaking it off around her 26th. I don’t think she ever fully let herself heal from that.

After two separate guys were invited to two separate family dinners and both ended in mum or dad exploding over something, they were banned. This new guy, as she insists, was different. Mature. He deserved an invite.

She holds up 9 fingers and mouths, 9 months! That’s a long time!

I shake my head and start setting up my laptop.

“Hiya,” one of the students, Kim, walks up to me as I do so. “Sorry I was just wondering when we’re getting our assignments back? Will it be before midterms?”

Midterms were in 2 weeks for this class. The assignments were in my bag, marked and ready. I tell her and watch the relief spread through her.

I spend the next hour teaching, and before we break at the hour I announce I’d return assignments. As I call them out student walks down to me and pick them up, leaving with a smile or a frown.

“Philippe?” He had stuck to his word and his group had gone above and beyond. It was a beautiful paper, albeit overly-sourced. But I appreciated it.

“He’s not in,” one of his friends comes down to get it. She looks at me in that same way again, with just as much fear as curiosity. It’s odd.

“C’mon then,” I shake the paper I was holding out. “I don’t bite.”

“Oh sorry,” she grabs it from me in a rush I nearly get a papercut. She doesn’t even look at the grade, turning quickly away before halting, pivoting halfway, changing her mind, and running back up the steps to her seat. That group of kids were weird. Maybe they were on drugs.

I catch eyes with Taylor and she raises her brow. I shrug and continue handing out the papers.

I don’t expect the girl to come up to me after class. Her friend stays hovering behind, close to my sister who I know must be desperate to have sat here the whole lecture.

“Um ‘scuse me. Professor?”

“Yes?” She was the last person in the small line that had formed after class.

“I had a question about the assignment? You um, you said we missed the equations for our answers but they’re um-“ her hands are shaking as she flips the pages to the last page. “They’re on the bottom here.”

“Oh,” I did remember they were missing it but my pen marks were all over the back of it. “I must have missed that, bloody hell sorry about that!”

“Yeah um, do we get the extra points?”

“Of course but I-“ I glance back at Taylor. She’s talking to the friend. I had to get her out of here before she said something ridiculous. “I have office hours after my Monday class. I’ll have it remarked by then and you can pick it up?”

“Um, okay?”

I quickly shut my things down and grab my sister, getting her out as quick as possible.

“I’m a professional,” she reminds me. “Jeez. Anyway Y/n listen it’s the longest I’ve been in a relationship since, well y’know. 9 months! It’s different with this guy. He works like you! A cushy office job. He’s serious. Please!?”

I hadn’t seen Taylor since last month’s dinner when she had tried to convince me to get on board with this guy. She’d been pleading for a month. “Fine.”

“Oh I love you!” She squeezes my arm. “Text me when mom gives the okay.”

I sigh. I’d really got myself in the middle again.

I retell this to Harry when I get home.

“She’s persistent. But 9 months is a new record.”

“I know!” Harry knew all about her string of boys, I’d caught him up months ago. “Anyway I can’t believe she sat through the whole lecture.”

“Maybe this is the guy. The One.”

“You don’t believe in that do you?”

“Yeah?” He squints at me. “Of course I do?”

“So I’m The One?”

“Baby do I even need to say yes? I knew it as soon as I saw you when we were 14. You confirmed it when you kissed me on the roof that day.”

“I can’t believe I did that. I had my first drink that day by the way so I might’ve been drunk.”

“You were not drunk when you kissed me,” Harry points his fork at me.

“Look at you getting all worked up,” I tease.

“I’ll get you all worked up,” he mutters into his plate. I grin as I stretch my leg out under the table and run it up his leg. He grips my ankle when it gets too high and the look he gives me across the table sends my heart racing.

“Oops,” I drop my foot and go back to eating.

We put on a movie after, something we can zone out to. It doesn’t take Harry long to get bored and nuzzle into me, and it doesn’t take much longer after that before the movie is just for show and we’re tangled in our sheets.

There were 17 years of experience Harry showed up with now, and it was another one of those things that made catching up on lost time all the better.

***

In the first half hour of my office hours, the girl walks in. I should remember her name but I just associated her group with Philippe. I was surprised he wasn’t here actually. He seemed to be their spokesperson.

“Hi come in!” I wave her into the tiny cubicle-like room I borrowed for a few hours every Monday. “I’ve got your assignment here all done.”

“Thank you,” she hovers over my desk and I hand it over. Her fingers fidget with the strings of her hoodie and I seriously consider the drug angle. Or maybe her and her friends had serious anxiety issues. I didn’t miss that part about being a teen.

“You wanna flip through one more time? I try not to make mistakes twice but…”

She sits down tentatively and buries her head in the paper as she flips through.

“It’s alright,” she says. Her expression is so serious it nearly makes me laugh. She had pretty hair—blunt cut bangs that I remember rocking in my early 20s, but on her they hide the expression in her eyebrows. Maybe that’s why she always looked so sullen. Her lips are painted a pretty mauve colour and it complimented her green eyes.

“I really um…your class is really interesting.”

Kids saying that was like injecting pure joy right into my veins.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” I smile at her. But it still doesn’t crack a smile on her end. “It’s dense material but that’s nice to hear.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know if I was gonna keep the class.” It’s subtle but she inches back in the seat. The more she talks the more she relaxes back. “But I heard it was worth taking. And people were right.”

“Are you in your first or second year?” I ask.

“First,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s covered in piercings.

“How are you liking uni so far?”

She meets my eyes for a second before they shift away. “Yeah it’s nice? I’ve never lived away from home but I have some friends here that I’ve known since before so it helps. It’s really different, less structure but I like the freedom.”

Wow, she really spoke a lot more when she was comfortable. But I find it endearing.

“That’s really nice. It’s good to have a support system, especially with such big change.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. Her eyes dart around the desk as she goes silent. I wait for her to get up and go but a minute passes and the room starts to feel even smaller.

I could ask her if she needed anything else, or maybe continue the conversation? Did she want me to ask about her? No, that would be weird.

“So um, was that your sister in class last week?”

Okay, didn’t see that coming.

“It was! My baby sister, although she’s not really a baby. Did she tell your friend that?”

She nods again. “She was talking to her.”

“You have any siblings?”

“An older sister yeah.”

“So you get it,” I say. “You love them, they get under your skin, you’d do anything for them, and the cycle continues.”

For the first time she smiles and my breath catches. For a moment…no. No, I was imagining things.

“Yeah. My sister and I were close growing up, but she’s the one person that really knows how to get under my skin. I swear she does it on purpose sometimes.”

“Probably,” I want to say something funny again. I just want to see her smile.

Back off, my inner voice says. Don’t do this again.

Some years back, when I was still in the throes of alcohol, I had followed a girl at the mall for nearly an hour. She had looked so much like my sister but with brown curly hair. I could have sworn it was her—my daughter. But after an hour of drunk stalking she had met up with her mum, a direct clone of her.

I couldn’t be obsessive again. Nobody knew about that phase. Not even Harry.

“D’you have any kids?” She asks. I don’t expect the question and it throws me off what with the thoughts looping in my head. She watches me, waiting for an answer.

“Um,” I usually answered no. To anyone who had asked in the last 18 years. But for some reason I nod today. “Yeah. One.”

I imagine it, I must have. Her face draws in for a second before she looks down. “Does she ever come to your lectures?”

“Oh no,” I feel the prick of tears and try to blink them away without being too obvious. “I’m not sure she’d find them interesting.”

“Oh.” She finally stands. “Maybe when she’s older…but I’ll see you on Thursday I guess?”

“Yeah,” I watch her go and realize she’d forgotten something. “Don’t forget your paper hon!”

She stiffens by the door before coming to get it.

“Sorry, it probably makes me a bad prof but there were two female names on the paper. Which one’s yours?”

“Bridget,” her voice cracks.

“Bridget,” I try to match the name to her face. It fit. “That’s lovely.”

She scurries out and I hear someone say “well!?” Outside followed by a “shh!”

I shake my head and try to focus back on my work, my heart racing an unusual amount.

***

It takes a couple days but I confess to Harry. He’d decided to meet up with me after class on Wednesday to eat out. We didn’t go far from the uni, a pub a few roads down. I actually spotted a couple former students there and they’d waved at me warmly.

“You’re not crazy,” Harry holds my hand on the table. “A few years ago I realized the volunteer interns we took on from the nearby school? They were the same age as her, teens? And I used to check up on them all the time, make sure they were feeling comfortable, until one of the guys on the team told me to quit being so weird and find someone my own age. I don’t know if it came across that way but…I got lost in that.”

“Oh Harry,” I squeeze his hand. “I didn’t know that.”

“I’ve never told anyone.”

“Me too,” I pop another chip into my mouth. “But really I’d kind of pushed those memories out of my head until the other day. I can’t explain it, when she smiled it just felt like I knew her.”

“Yeah. Maybe she just looks like Taylor?”

We finish dinner while Harry tells me about a story about some friends of his I knew. We reminisce about our old friends as we wrap up and head out into the brisk November air.

We’re near the station when I gasp and clutch Harry’s arm. Standing outside one of the nearby pubs, smoking with her friends, was Bridget.

“Harry! That’s her!”

“What? Who?” He’s so oblivious as he whips his head around.

“Hushhh!” I nod towards the northwest side. His eyes scan the group. “Red beanie. We have to walk past just look at her okay? Tell me if you see it.”

Harry laughs to himself, “This feels like we’re in high school walking past a crush.”

“Is that how you walked past me?” I tease.

“I did.” He looks at me in that way that still gives me butterflies. It never got old.

“Stop making me want to jump your bones out here. I have a reputation to uphold!”

“Hey I’ll still have a job to support us,” he whispers as we near closer to the group. “Feel free to do whatever you feel.”

“You’re a bad influence.” I whisper back. By now we’re a few feet away and I sense Harry slow down beside me.

Bridget’s nodding to whatever her friend is saying. Philippe is waving his drink around as he responds. We almost pass by unnoticed when someone completely different calls my name.

“Hey professor! Can we buy you a drink?”

I turn and spot a group of students I taught last semester. They were all friends, always battling out their wits during group discussions. It made my class lively, even distracting at times. But I tried going with the flow of whatever group of students I got.

“Hey kids!” I say. Then I have no choice but to acknowledge Bridget and her friends. “And more kids! Is this the new spot to be at?”

I sounded so lame but shite! We weren’t supposed to get caught.

“It’s always been popular,” one of my old students says. “Can we pick your brain? Buy you a drink? We can buy one for your friend too.”

“I uh,” I glance at Harry but he’s frozen solid. I look to what he’s looking at and it’s Bridget. They’re locked in some silent conversation and her friends eye each other. “Harry?”

“Huh?” He focuses on me, flushed and just as confused as I had looked on Monday.

“We’ve gotta get him home,” I pat Harry’s arm. “Our alcohol metabolizes differently at our age.”

“You’re not that old,” Bridget says. She seems to be surprised she said it at all and her eyes widen. “I just mean you look younger than my parents.”

“We’ll take that as a compliment.” I smile up at Harry who still looks a little lost.

“Miss aren’t you going to introduce your male friend?” One of my old student goads.

“Don’t assume,” the other chides.

“Aren’t you a nosy lot after a few drinks.” I missed dishing it back in class with them.

“Oops!” They laugh.

“Anyway. This is Harry.”

“You can call me Mr. Professor,” Harry jokes and it’s a crowd pleaser. God they were drunk. Harry leans into me, “I can see why you like teaching. They’re an ego-booster.”

“Not in a 6pm lecture on a Thursday night.” I whisper back. He hides his laugh.

“Are you guys heading home?” Now it’s Philippe. I’m surprised he was getting involved in the conversation. He was usually the quiet nervous type.

“We are. Need a good night’s rest so I’m not falling asleep in your lecture tomorrow.”

“We wouldn’t mind,” Philippe goes for joker but his face flushes. It’s cute.

“Philippe you take way too many notes during class for me to believe that.”

His two friends, Bridget and the other girl, look at each other wide-eyed before losing it. And I watch Bridget’s face transform again and I get the same feeling. I look up at Harry and he’s transfixed.

I tug his sleeve and he looks at me, swallowing like he was parched.

“Weird right?”

“Yeah,” he whispers but his mouth turns down ever so slightly.

The girls are too busy cajoling Philippe to say goodbye to so we make our exit quietly. We don’t talk much on the train ride home but Harry simple holds his hand out on my thigh, palm up, and I lock my fingers into his. Even when we didn’t have words, we never stopped staying in touch.

***

It’s exam and holiday season before I know it.

I was actually looking forward to Christmas this year. It was the first that Harry was going to join with my family. Taylor’s bloke was also showing. He had been a hit with my parents and even I could admit he was the better of all the guys she’s every brought over.

It’s the last 30 minutes of the last exam I was facilitating this year. I announce the time left to the group. There were only about 15 kids left.

Bridget is one of them. I watch her tuck her hair behind her ear and bite her lip. She’d been pretty quiet the remainder of the semester, and I tried not to let my eyes wander to her too much.

After that night, bumping into her with Harry, we hadn’t spoken much about it. The hope that was initially so buoyant turned crushing as we faced the reality that the odds were slim to none. That our wishes were just pennies tossed in a fountain, sinking to the bottom of the pool.

Dreary winter days pass by and Harry and I try to keep the seasonal depression away with regular outdoor dates, cozy nights in bed, and seeing friends as often as we could.

On Christmas we go to my parents’. It’s a loud affair as my grandparents and a few cousins join us. After dinner I go up to my childhood bedroom, it’s now a guest room but some of my things still lay around. I open the window, it was cold so I drag a blanket out and sit outside. The street is quiet, I see families in a few open windows and I watch the festivities through them. I feel a mix of nostalgia and an ache that goes even beyond that, like I was missing something.

“Y/n?” Of course Harry would find me even though I’d left the door closed and the window tilted.

“Here,” I say.

“Ah,” he struggles to hoist himself out. “Some things never change.”

“You need help?” I watch him climb on all fours.

“I’m steady,” he grins as he crawls to me. I open the blanket and he gets in.

We sit in silence for a bit.

“It was getting really loud downstairs wasn’t it?” I ask.

“I think your grandma’s in love with Taylor’s guy.” Harry says so bluntly that I burst out laughing. He joins in.

“I feel like old people get to flirt with whoever they want because it’s always harmless.”

“Maybe that’s the case with older women,” Harry grimaces. “Can’t say the same thing about old men now can we?”

“Jesus!” I laugh and then laugh even harder when Harry says: “it is his day.”

By the time I wipe my tears Harry’s gazing down at me.

“Sorry,” I lean my head against his shoulder. “You have to stop being so funny.”

“Nah,” he kisses my head. “Have I never told you how much I like your laugh?”

He had. On a night many years ago on a roof like this.

I go to remind him but he’s pulling away. I watch as he shifts to face my slowly. He pulls something out from behind him and my brain only connects the dots as he starts talking.

“Y/N, this is something I wish I could have done 18 years ago but only feels incredibly right to do now. Especially out here.”

“Harry,” I gasp. When did he get the ring? When had he planned this?

“We somehow found our way back to each other again y/n, and you know I love you more than ever before.” He clears his throat as it clouds with emotion. “Some 18 years ago I told you I knew you, because the first time I ever laid eyes on you my heart knew. You were something special. And I never ever want to spend another moment apart again. So Y/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honour and finally be mine? Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” If I wasn’t sitting on a roof I would launch myself at Harry. I settle for pulling his face down to mine and kissing it. “I’ve always been yours Harry. But yes, of course yes!”

He slides the ring on and it fits perfectly.

It was perfect.

When we go back down my mum knows right away, and if it was loud before it’s absolute chaos as everyone descends on me and demands to know how he proposed and how the ring looks.

“On the roof? When there’s a perfectly pretty tree here?” My grandma asks. Harry and I exchange a look then, trying not to laugh all over again.

We ring in the New Year with friends, as fiancés. I can hardly believe it. Apparently most of our friends knew Harry was going to propose and they all toast to us and our happiness.

Somewhere in mid-January, I drop by my parents’ house to drop off some groceries. That’s when my dad hands me a letter that had been mailed home.

“It came for you, I dunno who thinks you still live here but it looks handwritten.”

I take it from my dad as I say one last goodbye. I barely make it to the tube with wobbly legs. Because somewhere inside I know.

It’s a long and agonizing 2 hours that I wait for Harry to come home. He finds me sitting in the dark; the sun had set while I waited, and I’d been too busy staring at the feminine scrawl on the front of the letter to turn on the lights.

“Hello-y/n, what are you doing in the dark?”

Harry drops his things where they are when I look at him. “Y/n are you alright? Say something.”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I just push the letter forward.

He walks towards it. It’s like he hits a brick wall when he puts the pieces together, he halts a foot away.

“What is that?”

“Is was…” I try to swallow so my voice doesn’t sound so hoarse. “My dad gave it to me. It was sent to the house.”

“Is it…”

“I was waiting for you.”

Suddenly he’s in motion. He puffs his cheeks out and lets out a noisy sigh. Then he paces the floor one, two, three, four times before standing in front of the couch.

“We should read it.” I say.

“Yeah,” he deflates into the couch. I want to join him but it feels like my arse has been glued to the chair.

I inch it towards me and Harry nods. He wanted me to read it.

My mouth is parched. I can barely make out any sounds as I open it up. It’s three pages folded in two, the paper itself isn’t anything very special, it’s typed up so it’s literally just ink on paper. And yet it’s worth a whole goldmine.

“Y/n and Harry,” I read before my voice breaks and I bury my face in my hands. Our baby girl had written to us. She had reached out.

“C’mon love,” Harry’s suddenly beside me and his hand squeezes my neck. The touch gives me enough strength to stand with him. He sets me down where he just sat and leaves again, returning with water and the letter.

“Can you read it?” I ask.

He settles in beside me, we touch along every edge of us. The letter sits in between us like our love, our hurting—it’s where it belongs. He begins to read in his soothing voice.

“Y/n and Harry,

I hope it’s okay I’m calling you that. I don’t know if it’s proper but ever since I found out about you two last year that’s what I’ve been calling you.”

Harry lets out a shaky breath and I intertwine my arm through his. He kisses my temple and continues.

“When I turned 15, I asked my mum about you. I started to wonder where I came from. I knew I was adopted for as long as I could remember but it didn’t mean much to me for a long time—I had a mother, a father, and a sister. I had a family so why did I need to know where I came from?

But over the last few years it’s been like an itch I couldn’t get to. See when I was 15, what set it off is that my sister decided to look into her birth parents. They were separated, her father lived in Tokyo and her mother lived in Wales. It took her a year to convince our parents to go to Wales. I went with and I found myself in the home of a woman who looked just like the girl I grew up with. The whole time it ate away at me. I wanted this ending too.

I asked my mum and dad when I turned 15 but they were weird and evasive. I turned my skills to the internet but I didn’t really know where to start.

I felt the missing part more and more as I turned 16. I used to fall asleep thinking about you two, if you were alive, what you looked like, where you were, what you did.

I love my parents. They’re wonderful and amazing, they are supportive and never made us feel like we were anything but theirs. But I wanted to know my background.

On my 17th birthday my parents gave me a letter like the one I write today.” Harry stops reading and takes in a deep shuddering breath. “She got the letter.”

His shoulder shake and he pinches the bridge of his nose. I clench my teeth so I wouldn’t cry too. I wanted to finish this letter. I wrap my arms around him and hold him.

This was unbelievable, what we’d dreamed of. Her words, in our hands.

“Here.” I take the letter from him and continue. “Let me read it.”

Harry stays hunched over, so with my hand on his back I continue, “in it you told me how much you loved me. How much you loved each other, your families, where I came from. And Why you had to give me up. For a better life. I saw the picture of you, and I felt broken and complete at the same time. I realized I was the same age as you in the photo, I had to meet you but I was terrified. And I didn’t know how.

I spent a year agonizing and looking through every google page I could find about you. I learned a lot! But I needed to meet you.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve made decisions that may not have been the best but I’ve left my number and a picture of me when I was 5 in the envelope.

I hope you call.”

With shaking hands I turn to the third page that has one of those polaroids taped to it and a phone number in the same handwriting as the envelope.

“She’s beautiful,” Harry says while tears continue streaming down his face. I can’t even hide mine anymore.

She was beautiful indeed. She had his eyes, and her curly locks in a deep brown frame her chubby face. She had my nose, she looked a little like my sister as a baby. A scatter of freckles over her cheeks confirm it. She was ours. Our baby had reached out. We knew what she looked like.

“We need to call her,” I say. “We need to meet.”

“Yeah,” Harry wipes his face. “We…we need to do this carefully. It’s delicate right?”

I wanted to call her right now but what would I do but cry into the phone? No, I had to wrap my head around this. Harry was right. “Right.”

“She’s out there,” Harry turns to me. “She wants to know us. Y/n she wants to meet us! She saw the picture I-“

“I can’t believe it,” I whisper. “Our daughter wants to—did she leave her name?”

We open the letter and flip over every piece of it but her name is nowhere.

“Maybe she didn’t want us looking her up?” Harry offers.

“Maybe she has an awful digital footprint.”

Something about it makes us laugh and we can’t stop. But pretty soon it shifts back into tears and we’re left holding each other on the couch, tender and content and anxious.

Our daughter had made contact. Would she like us? Would she be mad at us? What did this mean for us?

The thoughts continue to spiral the rest of the evening. We don’t make much of an effort, we reread the letter and try to get dinner in us. We face each other as we try to fall asleep, whispering questions into the darkness. The darkness doesn’t answer, it grows heavier as does the night, and we fall asleep for the first time in our lives knowing the weight of a decision so long ago was a tiny bit lighter.

***

It’s a few days later. All I’d been thinking about was the letter, when I woke up, at work, during my commute, during breaks, when I went to bed.

It sits on our dining table, we glance at it as we pass by. It becomes part of the decor, three pieces of paper and an envelope. It’s so much weightier than that.

I come home from my lecture on Wednesday, a slight buzz of anxiety humming in the background. It wasn’t unusual for Harry and I to get busy at work and not talk the whole day but today Harry had been radio silent. He hadn’t answered my texts or phone calls in a very un-Harry way.

I walk in to Harry sitting on the couch in the dark, staring at the coffee table. On it sits the letter.

“Hey,” I don’t even take off my jacket. I slide next to him. “Is everything alright?”

“Hey,” he whispers. He stays frozen sitting forward, elbows on his knees, head cradled in his hand.

I wait for him to speak, to say something about what was going on. I rub my hand over his back and he glances up. I tip forward until our foreheads touch. “What’s going on in that brain of yours? Let me help you.”

“It’s a lot,” he whispers. It tears me in two.

“Hey,” I remind him. “Just one day at a time. Let’s just talk about today.”

“I want to call her so bad,” he leans away and buries his head in his hands. I wanted to call her too, I’d been waiting for Harry to give the cue since I knew I could be rash and impulsive about something like this. But something was going on with him.

“We will.”

“We gave her up. What if she hates us?”

“She wouldn’t have written us that beautiful letter, or sent a photo, or left her number if she did.”

Harry sniffles and then asks what he really wanted to, “what if she hates me.”

“Harry look at me,” He unfolds slowly and I make sure he’s looking at me. “You’re her father, you’ve carried her with you for the last 18 years. You love her. She wants to know you. Why would she hate you?”

“I’ve fucked up so much!”

“You’re not your mistakes.” I remind him. I get teary eyed as I feel the echoes of his insecurities. I’ve thought about it too: what if I didn’t meet her expectations? “She’s not going to see you and see every good and bad decisions you’ve ever made. She’s just going to see her father—her biological father, and see where she got her eyes from and her hair from and every other quirk she has.”

“You’re not worried?” He asks, looking at me with grief.

“Of course I am,” I confess, tears leaking out of my eyes damnit. “I’m so fucking worried. But my curiosity overtakes that, my love for her is what I’m focusing on.”

“I love her,” he says.

“That’s all that matters.” I cup his face and press a reassuring kiss to his lips. “That’s all she’ll care about.”

Harry untangles himself from me and my heart sinks. He paces the length of our living room a few times, running his hand through his hair.

“We really should talk about the letter,” he says.

“Yeah. I know. I want to call. Badly.”

He pauses. It’s like all the anxious energy drains out of him at once. He sits back down beside me.

“What do we do?” I ask

“How about Saturday? She’s probably going to be home then right? No school—if she’s in school.”

Two days. Two more days of agonizing over the letter.

At this point the letter is memorized, seared into my brain like I had an exam on it. I want to know the person behind it.

When we wake on Saturday it’s a cloudy day. I don’t take it as a bad omen.

We sit with our phones out after breakfast, just staring at everything before us.

“You should do the talking,” I tell Harry. “I’m too nervous.”

“I think you should.” Harry says. “She sent the letter to you.”

“Only because that’s the address my mum gave…gave her mum.”

It hits me again in another wave I try not to drown in. She was eighteen, she’d lived a whole life with a whole family. There was everything of her we’d missed out on.

“Please Harry?” I was already overwhelmed with the realization. I just couldn’t.

He watches me, must hear the desperation in my voice, and slowly pulls his phone forward.

It rings, and rings a few more times. When it goes to voicemail he turns it off.

“I didn’t think that was an option,” Harry says and we laugh. It feels good.

“It’s only 10 maybe she’s asleep. Try one more time?”

He pulls my phone and tries again but it still goes to voicemail.

We sit there, unsure of what to do. We agree to try again later, in the afternoon.

But around half past 12, while Harry’s working in our spare room and I’m scrolling through my phone, it rings. I don’t think much of it and pick it up automatically.

“Hello?” It’s silent on the other end. “Hello?”

I wait, but as I do it dawns on me. Who called me?

I check my phone screen and swipe through as I say hello again. I match the number. It was her.

I run to Harry but the phone is still silent. I wave the paper with the number saying hello again.

“Is this…well you never gave us your name. But we got your letter. We’re so gl-“

The line goes dead and so does my heart.

“You called her again?” Harry whispers, his brows furrowing as he stares at the phone.

“She called.” I think about calling her back but that was pushy. She was backing out of this.

All of a sudden I feel myself giving out. I catch myself against the wall and slide down.

“She’s backing out. It must be…too much for her.”

Harry stares at a spot on the ground, a million thoughts flickering through. Finally it settles on acceptance. He sighs.

“We can’t force her to talk to us,” he says softly what I already know. But his words are like a saw to my resolve and I just start crying. He gathers me in his arms but the grief feels endless. It felt like she was slipping away again; I’d lost so much and I lost her again. She had been so close. How could she do this? Why did she reach out if she wasn’t ready?

Questions without answers. More of them piled on top of the lifetime of questions I’d built for her.

I know Harry feels the weight of them too. We carry them together. That’s the only reason I hadn’t broken yet.

But I come close to it that day. We don’t hear back from her. And we don’t try to call her back. It didn’t feel right.

It killed me she was so close. And something changes inside.

For weeks I feel like I’m on autopilot. It’s like my first semester of uni all over again.

Harry tries his best to keep me together but he struggles too. It makes me feel worse I was taking the bigger hit, not being there for him as much as I wanted. But life feels like a a million blankets covering me.

I try to keep my usual momentum for my classes, but I’m always exhausted after. It pulls me deeper into my sadness, something I loved made me so tried.

It’s a Thursday at the end of the semester and I’m marking exams during my study hours when there’s a light knock on the door.

I’m surprised to see an old student.

“Bridget,” I wave her in. “Come in, what can I do you for?”

“Hi professor-“

“Call me y/n, I’m not teaching you anymore am I?”

“No,” she says with a stiff smile. The last time I saw her was in February, I’d spotted her with Philippe and a few other friends at a local coffee shop. She had been explaining something to one of her friends from a textbook.

Now her hair was short and more pronounced with waves. I wonder if she styled it, her longer hair had been pin straight.

“I had a question?”

You already asked it, I want to joke. But she was usually wound up so I knew it wouldn’t land well.

“What’s that?”

“Um, well.” She perches on the chair and I wait patiently for her to continue. “Are you taking any applications for TA next year?”

I wasn’t expecting that. She always found a way to take me by surprise. I stare at her for a few seconds, trying to remember what year she was in.

“Aren’t you in first year? If I do TAs they’re usually 3rd or above.”

“I know,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. “But seeing that one of my majors is in econ and my gpa is really high, and I did well in your class, I wondered if you would consider me?”

I hadn’t done TAs since my first year of teaching. I found I liked the work because it got me more familiar with the class.

“What’s your other major?” She had said one of them was econ.

“Sociology, I’m pre-law.”

Ambitious. “Why TA for my class?”

She balks as she meets my gaze. There’s something that flits through her face that I can’t quite read before she drops eye contact.

“Um, I really enjoyed it. I did really well. I think you’re super smart and would learn a lot by TA-ing for you.”

“I don’t give special lessons to my TA,” I let her know. “You’d typically attend some of the classes, mark assignments, and maybe teach exam tutorials, and have office hours of your own for students.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Why should I pick you?”

She pushes her shoulders back, “I’m responsible, dependable, I submit all my assignments on time and have experience teaching.”

“Teaching?”

“I used to tutor when I was in high school. I didn’t really get an allowance so I found a way to support my hobbies.”

“What are your hobbies?”

She blushes a little, was she still nervous? “I love reading, books are expensive.”

I nod. For Harry’s birthday I’d told him he could get any books from Waterstones and it had been over £100 for 3 only.

“I also enjoy cooking. And um, it’s been a while but my friends and I sometimes go to like. Do you know comic con?”

“Yes,” I’d seen things online.

“Yeah we liked to dress up for that sort of thing. We used to make our own outfits and usually the cost varies depending on what you’re making and how realistic you want it and…” she trails off as I smile. She was really enthusiastic about it. I couldn’t help it.

“Tell you what. Leave your number with me and I’ll think about it. I haven’t had a TA for the last few semesters but I am going to take this into consideration.”

“Really?!”

I laugh. “Yes. Really.”

“Um…” she starts to fidget again. “Can I leave my email? I’m getting a new phone soon so I-“

“Sure. Anywhere I can reach you.”

I expect her to get out a pen but she says it verbally and I type it out.

“Um, are you alright?” She asks out of the blue after I type in the last letter.

“Alright?” I raise my brow.

“I mean, you seem…I just heard, um.” She tries to backtrack but I ask her again and she spills. “Some people just said your last few classes seem scattered. Not that people don’t like you. I just…that’s what they were saying. And I don’t know if having a TA would help? And I just wanted to ask if you’re okay sorry I shouldn’t…it’s none of my business.”

God, this girl was so awkward. But she was sweet for caring, I think. “You’re not applying for the role because you feel bad that I seem…scattered right?”

She blushes. “Sorry. I think I said too much.”

I want to laugh but it strikes me that my students had noticed. I’d let it affect their learning. It didn’t feel very good.

“Life’s hitting me hard recently,” I tell her simply. “But I’m alright. Thank you for reaching out Bridget.”

As I finish up the semester I think about her. It wouldn’t hurt to have her TA for one of my lectures, see how she does. I didn’t care for TAs as a lecturer but something about her is compelling and I find myself emailing her in the middle of the night in June. She responds back a few minutes later,

Thank you!!! You’re the best. I’ll do whatever you need just tell me I can do anythingggh

Sent from iphone.

I laugh to myself as I put my phone away and go back to bed. My guesses were she was drunk at a party.

Harry’s asleep beside me and I reach out to touch his back but think better of it. He’d been busy at work with a project nearing its deadline and I didn’t want to accidentally wake him.

I turn around and try to drift off, thinking about my daughter, about how Harry and I hadn’t really talked much in the last two weeks, about my teaching, and my new TA.

Age 38:

It’s a depressing summer. The air of dashed hopes still hangs around Harry and I. It’s less thunder clouds and more of a fog.

One weekend morning, it’s one of those mornings that start off heavy. I can’t get out of bed, but I hear Harry pattering about doing his weekend morning thing. I hear the dishwasher turn on, and soon after he walks in with our laundry folded in a basket. I feel awful as I normally do, but not awful enough to get up and do anything about it. I think I’d have to feel less awful, to do that.

I don’t expect him to get in beside me once he’s finished putting everything away. He smells like laundry and shampoo, I must smell like rot and decay.

“Y/n,” he says gingerly. I just look at him in response. I felt too heavy to even reply. He sits up and calls my name again.

“Mm,” I say.

He sighs. Despite months of this Harry’s been nothing but understanding but this morning seems different.

Suddenly I’m being pulled up by my shoulders and I find myself sitting up in bed.

“Y/N,” Harry says again. I fold my arms as the duvet slips down and the cool air raises goosebumps. “I love you, which is why it’s so hard seeing you like this. You have to get on, my love. We have to move forward. It’s been months.”

All I could remember after our daughter hung the phone up on us was when I almost got to hold her. Right after she was born, I almost got to hold her but they took her away. And that piece of me that followed after her was nearly returned. It was that almost that was a death blow.

“It’s hard,” I feel myself tear up. It was hard not to these days.

“I know baby,” Harry scoops me into him. “I know. It’s hard for me too but we have to get better. We have to live our lives. She’ll come back to us, I just know it. She’s scared, we’re hopeful. Fear’s gonna keep her away. Hope keeps us patient.”

I cry into his shirt and he rocks me.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his shirt.

“It’s alright,” he grips the back of my neck.

So for Harry, for us, I try to get back to myself. I start to pick up my outdoor hobbies, I try to keep conversations going with Harry, I reintroduce my multi-step night routine. I look forward and re-light the candle of hope, even though I ache to blow it out before it can burn down to its wick.

My wounds inside stay tender.

We had booked our wedding for November and as the days approach we find ourselves with one thing on our mind.

Harry and I finally talk about it.

“I always thought she’d be there at the wedding once she reached out.”

We’re sat in an outdoor space near King’s Cross, coffees in hand as we people watch. We’d just come back from a cake tasting and neither of us felt like going home with such a glorious August day. Kids splash in the water sprinklers and couples sit around arm in arm. I touch shoulders with Harry unconsciously.

“Me too. I think that’s what’s kept me from mentally committing to the fact that the date is coming closer.”

“It can’t be forever,” Harry says. “She reached out. She just needs time. She’ll call again one day and we’ll meet her.”

“I know.” I lean my head on his shoulder. This was a realization I’d also been slowly digesting. I’d waited 18 years, what was a few more months, another year? Her baby picture lived on our fridge, at least we were one step closer.

And the love, I had to remind myself in these moments. Hold onto the love.

***

“I can’t stay for this class,” Bridget tells me. It’s the second week of classes and there were still 10 minutes until it officially started.

“Is everything alright?”

“Not really,” that’s when I notice her nose is red and her eyes are too. “My um, my parents had to put my dog down. She…she wasn’t feeling well yesterday and the-they found cancer? And she was in a lot of pain but she never showed it? And-“

I put my hand on Briget’s shoulder and lead her to the exit. There was no reason for the whole class to see this.

“Sorry. I’m-“

“Don’t apologize.” I rub her shoulder. “I understand. Take the time you need I have this covered.”

True to her word, Bridget had been a loyal TA over the summer. I considered it a trial run not expecting much but she had shown up, aced marking, and I’d gotten good feedback from the students at the end of the semester.

I’d also taken to her. She’d join me during my 2 hours every Monday and when no students would come she would loosen up. She’d told me all about the dog she grew up with, she showed me costumes her friends and her made, I’d asked her about the books she was reading and the classes she was taking. It was like having a younger sister again, except I was mature enough to appreciate her.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Bridget says and this statements seems to be the breaking point. She curls in on herself, shoulders shaking. I don’t even think, I just pull her into me like I would for Harry, for Taylor, for any of my friends.

“You have a lifetime of memories with her,” I hold her. At first she stiffens up and I almost let her go but she only breaks down further and wraps her arms around me. Tighter than I expected.

“I wish I said goodbye,” she says into my shoulder.

“I know hon,” I squeeze her against me, something maternal washing over me. “I know.”

After a minute or so she regains her composure, wiping her face with her sleeve. When she looks at me she looks so much younger, her face grief-stricken and regretful.

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be.”

She seems to want to say something more but whatever it is, she swallows it and takes a step away.

I don’t see her for two weeks and I miss her.

When she walks into the lecture the first week of October I try not to rush her but I’m overjoyed seeing her face. It had become so familiar to me.

She smiles shyly when she walks up to me and I pull her into a hug. This time she doesn’t stiffen.

“How are you?” I whisper. Students were still trickling in so I use the time to catch up.

“Okay. Better than that day I cried all over you sorry again. I went home last week, thanks for letting me take it off.”

“Of course. You forget I’ve been doing this without a TA before you. I can hold down the fort.”

She cracks a smile, her dimple making a rare appearance.

“By the way, week 10’s lecture is supposed to be cancelled.” I tell her later during office hours. “But I wondered if you wanted to hold a tutorial that week for some of the material?”

“Really?” A light comes on in her eye. It’s fiery and bright with excitement.

“Yeah! You know the material! I’ll leave you with slides and you can go about teaching them.”

“I’d love to!” She grips her laptop close to her. “Wait why is it cancelled?”

“I’m getting married that week!”

The light dims. Or maybe I imagine it.

“Oh! I thought you were married already?”

“No,” I’d referred to Harry as my partner any time he was brought up. “We’re getting married in November. You’ve met him actually, kind of, that night we ran into you and some students at the pub. Last year?”

“Oh yeah I remember,” she says but her eyes are somewhere else. “So you’re getting married?”

“Yes Bridget,” I laugh. “Married. Tying the knot. You alright?”

“Yeah,” she blinks and she’s back. “You never mentioned the wedding. Do you have a dress?”

“Yeah! Just finalized the tailoring last week. Most things are ready, we’re just finalizing the rings!”

“Cool!” She fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “Is it in London?”

“Yeah, it’s not too big but we didn’t want people travelling too far. This is where Harry and I were born and raised so this is where we want to marry too.”

“Wow,” she seems lost in thought and she stays pretty quiet the rest of the time. I didn’t realize my news was that surprising.

Maybe I still didn’t have Bridget completely figured out.

***

“Harry I can’t pick them up! I need to get home and then head back out to class!”

“Y/n it’s on your way home!”

“Not really! It’s a 30 minute detour. Why can’t you do it?”

“Because you can still get to him right before he closes. I won’t be done here until after he closes. I’m sorry love!”

“Agh and why can’t he do tomorrow?”

“He’s off until Saturday! We need it today.”

It’s the Wednesday before we marry and our rings are still at the jeweller’s. He’d finished them last weekend but we’d been so busy with other things we hadn’t had time to pick it up. And now it was either today and be late for class, or the day of the wedding.

I had gotten delayed at work and missed Harry’s texts explaining the situation. I’d only responded while on the tube, but going out of my way for 30 minutes meant I’d be 30 minutes late to get back to class. And since I’d left marked assignments at home that the kids needed for next week’s tutorial, I had no choice but to head back.

The idea hits me at once.

I hang up on Harry and ring Bridget. She picks up right away.

“Bridget, I’m on a crazy tight schedule. I’m going to be late to class by half hour at least.”

“Oh no. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah it’s just wedding thing but can you do something crazy? And feel free to say no okay?”

“Okay?”

I explain to her that if she rode to my flat, Harry would be there by then and she could pick up marked assignment. She can delay class by taking them up.

She’s silent but eventually I get a yes. “Okay. Can you text me your address?”

“Yes! Yes. Thank you Bridget. I owe you your trip fare and lunch or something. I’ll text you now, leave as soon as you can!”

I call Harry again and confirm he’d be home by the time she arrived. Everything works out.

I get the rings, and have to head home so Harry can try his on. The jeweller was expecting both of us, and let me know he couldn’t do adjustments if I didn’t text him by today. Just my luck!

When I get to the flat I tell Harry not to read his inscription but to try it on and thankfully it fits.

“Hey,” Harry calls out as I try to rush back out the door.

“What?” I was out of breath and frantic.

“Slow down,” he pulls me into a lingering kiss and despite being breathless before, I get some air into my lungs when we part.

“Sorry, so hectic.”

“I know I’m sorry,” he strokes my cheek. “I would have gone if I could make it. Also don’t be mad.”

“Be mad?” I let go of the door handle. “What did you do?”

“Your TA stopped by, Bridget. I forgot she was coming so I didn’t have your papers ready. I invited her in and she was in the living room looking at our pictures and she stopped in front of the baby picture. Of our daughter.”

“Okay,” did Harry tell her our history? I get antsy. “And?”

“Well she asked if that was our daughter. And I didn’t know what to say, if you’ve said anything to her? I panicked?” Harry runs his hand through his hair. “I just changed the subject.”

“Okay, that’s not bad. What’s the bad part I don’t get it?”

“Well. I changed the subject and told her she should come to the wedding.”

My jaw drops. “Harry.”

“I know! I know I’m sorry! I know she technically works for you, she was a student, all that! You’re so fond of her though maybe it’s not a bad thing?”

“Harry that’s…she was my student! I’m a prof at that school I…is that even allowed?”

“Yes? I panicked and googled it.”

I groan, “I swear you’re getting worse the closer we get to the wedding.”

The other week he had tried to buy out a whole bakery in case there wasn’t enough cake for our guests.

“You can tell her we have a full guest list? I don’t know what came over me! She just looked at me with those puppy eyes and she asked about the picture and I tried to talk about something else but the only thing on my mind-“

I kiss him. Just to shut him up. I was getting really late.

“This is like that book club you were tricked into joining all over again-“

“Hey I really like that book club now! It might be a good thing!”

“We’ll talk later.” I shake my head at him. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. It’s weird but what’s one more guest?”

“I also said plus one.”

I let out a long exhale and then kiss Harry again. I didn’t want him spiralling while I was gone.

“Baby don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m fine with it. We’ll talk when I get home?”

I mull over it on the ride to uni. But I can’t find a way to uninvite her without it being awful. I text our wedding planner if we could squeeze in two more seats and she gives me the thumbs up.

I did have a soft spot for Bridget, and technically I’ve known her for over a year now.

During office hours, we get a few people in for the first half hour. Then we’re back to just the two of us.

“Thanks for taking over today,” I tell her. “I really appreciate it.”

“That’s alright. Happy to help out.”

An awkward silence slithers in.

“So my partner invited you to our wedding.”

“Yeah! I didn’t know if that was serious am I…?”

She looked so hopeful I couldn’t shoot her down. “Yes! I have a couple people from the faculty coming. And some colleagues from my day job. You’ll probably have to sit with them but?”

“That’s fine!” She’s chirpy Bridget again. “I’d love to. That would mean a lot.”

I watch her as the smile stays on and she gets out her phone, typing away. Maybe her friends, her plus one.

I realize I’m not entirely against it. It had happened, and I was okay.

***

I stare at myself in the mirror, smoothing down my dress in a nervous habit. I never thought I’d get married twice, I always thought after Tatum I was done with marriage, but Harry would always be the exception.

I feel a flutter of nerves thinking about him. Walking down the aisle to him. We started talking on a rooftop one day, we had just been two kids.

“You better not cry,” Taylor threatens as she walks into the room. She had gone to fetch lash glue after my teary eyes loosened an edge.

“I’m not,” I say weakly.

She stands beside me in the mirror, “They’re all waiting downstairs.”

Just 30 minutes ago this room had been a chaotic mess. From my mum, to my friends, to the wedding planner. I’m kind of glad my lash came loose, I’m able to ground myself in these few minutes of silence.

Taylor talks about our family downstairs as she fixes my face. I get up with her help and she beams, but her eyes look misty.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing!”

“Why do you look sad what happened?”

“Oh my god calm down, I just can’t believe you and Harry are getting your happy ending! I’m just…emotional.”

“Aww,” I cup her face even though I want to squeeze my baby sister against me. But my white dress, although not entirely traditional, would be ruined for the ceremony.

A ping on her phone—mum. We rush out. It feels like getting caught when we were younger and quickly getting away from the scene of the crime. I grip my sister’s hand until I stand in front of the doors leading down the aisle.

I don’t remember walking, it felt more like floating. Even if there was a chimpanzee and a talking dog in the pews I wouldn’t have noticed. My eyes are locked on Harry’s teary ones, they anchor me as I glide towards the man I’ve never stopped loving. Who always saw all of me.

When he reaches for my hand I grasp it and I know I made the right decisions. Even the painful ones. After all, I wanted to be nowhere but here.

“Y/N,” Harry reads his vows to me and I try not to cry as he sweeps me away with his delicate words about our love story.

“To be so deeply known by another, without even saying a word, shouldn’t make sense and yet with us we have a language that goes beyond words. A brush of your hand or a look in my direction, it can be enough to unload whatever burden I’d just been carrying. I promise to do the same for you, and to never end this dialogue between us. To love you and to cherish you forever.”

Harry couldn’t keep the tears in and they slide down his cheeks as he reads his words out to me. I reach out instinctively and brush his tear away and he laughs because I was doing it again.

“You’re can’t make me cry in my makeup,” I tell him and our guests laugh.

I had sat and thought so hard about my own vows. In the end after 50 versions, I’d settled on short and sweet.

“Harry, when we first spoke on the rooftop of that party in high school,” I say at my turn. “You told me everything you wanted. One of them was to make the world a better place. And I don’t know if you still want those things as much now as you did then, but one thing is true. You’re made my world a better place. I can’t imagine doing life without you. I love you with all of my heart, there’s no equation that could calculate how much.”

Harry grins at me and my breath catches. My man, he was my Harry.

We finish our vows with a kiss and a lot of noise from the crowd. When we turn to everyone I’m struck by how lucky we were.

The absence of our daughter was tough but when it came to love we had an abundance of it. I see it in every smiling and shiny face in the crowd. It’s like photographing a sunny day with one of those old school films, the sun is covered by a dark spot but the rays still wash everything in gold.

Harry squeezes my hand and I look up to him. He’s already looking at me.

He holds his hand up and lets out a whoop before he pulls my face towards him again for an even longer and borderline inappropriate kiss. I feel myself start to blush in front of the crowd.

We start down the aisle and this time I beam at every guest I catch eyes with.

My mum and Harry’s wave with tear-streaked faces. My friends from high school shout out, always the biggest supporters of our relationship. I catch eyes with Bridget, forgetting for a second she was here. Philippe is beside her, but what’s surprising is her blotchy face. I didn’t take her for someone who got emotional at weddings. I throw her a wave and she smiles through the tears.

Whoever ordered weddings to have a small break between the ceremony and the reception deserved a billion dollars. Harry and I spend the quiet moment doing our outfit change but afterwards we hold each other and let the moment sink in. The day sink in.

“We’re married,” Harry whispers when I tell him we should get going so we weren’t late.

“We took the long way to get here didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” he tucks me under his chin again and even though we would be late we just sway together for a little while. Our own private first dance, before the one for our family and friends.

“We did it all quite backwards actually.” I look up to him.

“Yeah, but we were never ordinary.”

“No, and I don’t think anything we’ve ever done is either.”

“Including our kid. I really wish she were here.”

“We’ll tell her all about it one day,” I promise him. His face eases into a loving smile, the fact that we’d made it to a place again where I can comfort him about this said a lot. Said we’d make it through everything, despite.

“I don’t want to do life with anyone else y/n, I have everything I need right here.”

“Remember that day at Whole Foods?” I remind him. “The first time we bumped into each other.”

“It’s a core memory,” Harry remembers. “I feel like the sun never set on that day. Getting to see you after all those years…it’s cheesy but it felt like coming home.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Me too. I recognized you by the back of your head did I ever tell you that?”

“Stared at it enough in maths, of course you did.”

“That’s probably why I did so poorly that year remember,” I laugh. “Just staring at the back of your head.”

“That’s why I never sat anywhere but in front of you.” He swipes lightly down my nose and I smile. “Now I get to see every angle of you whenever I want.”

“Oi,” I slap his chest. “Save it for tonight.”

He brushes my cheek. Under his gaze I’m stripped naked. There was nothing to hide with him, ever.

“I understand how long it took you to get ready,” he says in his deep silky voice. My stomach flips. “So I can’t do anything right now. But y/n, our wedding night will turn into a wedding dawn, and then to day again. I promise you.”

I tip-toe, even in my heels, and brush my lips along his cheek. In his ear I whisper, “I don’t expect anything less.”

I step away, feeling unravelled by the look of desire in his eyes. I’m sure I had the same look of want. But before we can give in to what we wanted to do, I open the door to our suite and embrace the gust of cool air.

“You should get some air too,” I say and he laughs, following me behind.

***

“Bitch!” Taylor comes up to me on the dance floor later that night. We had dinner, Harry and I had our first dance, there’d been toasts and tears in between. I was finally letting loose as the wedding party crowds the dance floor. We had been taking pictures all night, after this next glass of champagne I was going to call it quits on photos lest anyone captures anything that’s not an elegant bride.

“What?” I turn away from Harry to face Taylor. She’d been running around all day making sure my wedding day was perfect and seeing her just warms me with love. I squeeze her against me despite her protests. “I love you Taylor. Thank you for everything!”

“Ugh c’mon,” she wriggles out. She’d never been very affectionate.

“Where’s your bloke?” I look out for him.

“He taking a call. Anyway don’t change the fucking subject!”

“What subject!?” I ask as someone dances past me, fluttering their fingers in my direction. I blow them a kiss.

“C’mere,” she’s annoyed I’m distracted. She drags me off to the side and I hold a finger up to Harry as he watches us. “When the fuck were you going to tell us about her? And you invite her to your wedding and everything and nobody knows anything!?”

“What?” I was drunker than I thought or Taylor was making no sense. “Wha?”

“The girl you just took a photo with? Don’t act stupid Y/N jeez I can’t believe it. You hid it from me when it happened but why are you still hiding…”

My sister grows more upset as she talks, I realize it was serious. Taylor rarely allowed herself to get this worked up in public.

I put my hand on her shoulder but she shakes it off. I think hard about who she was talking about. Who had I just taken photos with?

Some of Harry’s friends took a picture lifting us up, then there was a photo with my cousin but that can’t be who Taylor was talking about. There was Andie, a few other friends and their partners, then Bridget and Bridget and Philippe.

Bridget.

“Wait what are…who do you think that is? Taylor I work-“

“Your daughter! Why are you still acting fucking clueless!”

“What’s happening?” Harry walks in mid-way into the conversation.

“God you too!” Taylor turns to him and hits the back of her hand on his chest. He rubs the spot and stares at her like she’d gone crazy.

“Me too what?”

“Harry?” His mum walks up to us, her brows pulled together the same way Harry’s does when he’s confused.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s that girl? With the brown hair? Purple dress?”

She’s eyeing Bridget who’s laughing with Philippe.

“Bridget?” Harry glances at me and Taylor grows more pink.

“Bridget? That’s her name?” Taylor blinks away tears. “Really y/n? I get when it happened I was a child, you and mom kept it from me. But she’s, you invite her to you-“

“Invite who?!” I shout. What the hell did Taylor think.

“Y/n,” Harry puts his hand on my lower back in warning.

“Your daughter?” Taylor says with teary eyes and a look of betrayal on her face. “That’s your daughter isn’t it? She looks just like…”

“Jesus I thought the same thing,” Anne looks at all of us. “Harry?”

“That’s not-“ he stops talking and we all look over at her. I had to say, right now she really could be. With her hair curled and wearing what she’s wearing. She could be family.

“She’s my TA. I’ve known her for a couple years guys I’ve bloody taught her. That’s not our daughter. She wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight? Harry invited her last minute.”

They all turn to look at me. Taylor looks miffed, she bites her lip as she looks at her one last time.

“That’s weird. Nevermind.”

She leaves like she didn’t just make a big scene. Anne covers her hand with her mouth and shakes her head. “I’m sorry loves, I didn’t mean to upset anyone-“

“You didn’t do anything,” I reassure her. Taylor did. And she couldn’t even say sorry.

“Don’t worry mum,” Harry pays her arm. She fades into the crowd and Harry stands in front of me so all I see is him. “She’ll get air, she’ll be fine.”

“But how could she just cause such a big scene like I’d hide something like that from her? On my wedding day! And then leave without even apologizing ugh! She is still such a brat sometimes!”

“I know, she’ll apologize later just let her be.” He knew Taylor enough. He knew her at 13 and he knew her now. That’s exactly what she would do. “We’re getting you a shot.”

“That’s the last thing I need! I’m already kinda tipsy Har.”

“This won’t tip you over c’mon. Shake it off.”

He leads me to the bar and we take a shot. I nearly spill half of it, it was awful whatever it was. I lose Harry as we get back to the dancing and end up behind Bridget instead. Philippe noticed me first and slows his dancing, which signals Bridget to turn around.

“Y/n!” Her smile is so bright it hurts to look at. It dims as I just stare at her.

It would be crazy. It was a big fat coincidence. She had a mum, a dad, a sister, she told me all about them. Her childhood dog and the time she twisted her ankle playing football in year 4. She wasn’t who we wanted her to be.

“Are you alright?” I read her lips. There’s only ringing in my ears. “Hey! Y/n!”

Philippe is suddenly on my other side and I’m being led to a chair. He disappears and Bridget pulls a chair beside me.

“What’s,” my voice sticks and I clear my throat. “What’s going on between you two? He’s your date?”

“Philippe?” Bridget’s brows draw together and I can’t stop looking at where they meet. I knew her. I didn’t know her. I was too afraid to ask. “No just friends.”

“That’s not the way he’s looking at you.”

“What?” She tucks her hair back. “No we’ve been friends since high school. It’s not like that?”

“What would you do if he got a girlfriend?” It was a random conversation to have, here and right now but it helps me from tumbling anywhere else. Especially into a pool of what-ifs.

“I’d,” she shrugs but a flicker passes through her face, for a second her jaw clenches. “Be happy for him.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not! Why are you asking?”

“You two like each other. I see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. Why did you invite him tonight?”

She shrugs, picking at something on her arm. “I dunno. He’s good at being a plus one. He always supports me? He’s always been there for me.”

“Sorry,” he shows up with a glass of water. “I swear the guy behind the bar was ignoring me.”

“Thank you Philippe,” by now I didn’t really need the water but I hold the icy glass in my hands. “Let’s see the pictures you took. I want them in my inbox or something soon. We don’t get our official photos for months.”

“Oh yeah here,” Phillipe hands over his phone after opening the photo. There are a couple of all of us, and then a few with just Bridget standing between Harry and I smiling.

I look between all three of us and feel something in my gut. But it’s too scary and big to unpack right now. I shove it away. I couldn’t do this. Not today, not tonight.

“You look beautiful Bridget,” I touch a lock of her hair. “Did I already say that?”

“Yeah,” she smiles awkwardly. “You said that before the photo.”

“You do. And so do you Philippe. Thank you for attending my wedding.”

“Thanks for inviting us,” Bridget looks at me wide-eyed, like she’s about to say something but when Philippe’s hand lands on her shoulder she looks down.

“What?” I ask anyway. Her eyes dart like prey to me, to Philippe, and down to her hands. I grab her hand and force her to look at me, like I could read something in her eyes. Like I would know. “Bridget.”

She looks up and her eyes well with tears as we look into each other’s eyes. My throat feels tight like I was having an allergic reaction, it travels down to my chest, I inadvertently feel myself squeezing her hand.

“I’m so-“

“Bridget,” Philippe’s voice cuts through whatever Bridget was going to apologize for. I look up at him and he’s burning a hole staring at her that hard. Over his head I see Harry.

“Oh look I see my husband,” Harry’s spots me too, relief in his features. His eyes stay on my face as he walks towards me and his eyes keep my steady. I want to tell him something, but everything that just happened was so non-verbal and unreal that I think I made it all up. I must be because this was insane and there was no explanation other than I was drunk, and sadder than I realized. “Gotta go kids. Have fun. I think I need another shot.”

I remember the rest of the night in snapshots. I forget myself later, giving myself up to Harry after that. We actually make it to dawn in a mixture of love and declarations, filthy words and I love yous, laughter and deeper conversations. It’s everything we were. It’s just like he promised.

***

Life moves on and I don’t bring anything up to Harry. I couldn’t, either I’m wrong and get his hopes up, or he thinks I’d gone insane in my sadness.

I feel like Bridget avoids me the week after, I return to class and she sits there, even takes questions after class, but she makes an excuse of studying during office hours and I barely get a few words with her. The week after she has an exam and she skips out after class.

I’m antsy. I want to know more about her; from her. I’m tempted to find a way to access her profile, get more info via the school. But I wait.

Harry notices, as we prep for our honeymoon booked over the holidays, he continues to ask if I was alright. And I try to convince us both I was.

About 3 weeks after the wedding, it’s a Saturday afternoon. Harry’s making lunch and I’m sitting in a pile of our books trying to decide what can be donated.

“Can you get that?” Harry asks.

“Hm?”

“The door?” He says just as there’s another knock. I’d been so entranced in the book I’d randomly started reading a passage of I hadn’t even heard.

I scramble to get it before the next knock and nearly stumble back when I find Bridget at the door.

“Hiya,” she says with an awkward wave.

“Hi…Bridget. What…come in what’s going on?”

“Sorry? Now that I’m here I should have called first.” She comes in and I go further in, waiting for her to follow. She hesitates before peeling her wet boots off.

“Harry? We have a guest,” I announce as I take her further into the home. I guess she’d already been here once before. “Bridget what can we do you for? Did you need something?”

“Bridget!” Harry pops out of the kitchen into the adjoined living room when we get closer. “Nice to see you again! I’m nearly done lunch, did you want to stay?”

What was it with Harry randomly inviting Bridget to things that were not pre-discussed.

“Um, I no. I probably shouldn’t. I just, came by to talk?”

“Sure,” I lead her to our dining table. “Is it about school? Did something happen?”

I sit across from her and Harry mumbles something, turning the dials down on the stovetop before sitting beside me.

Bridget’s eyes dart everywhere, from me to Harry, to the pictures on the wall, the kitchen, the books all over the floor.

“I was just doing a clearout,” I say to fill the silence. “Hey you like books right? Look through that pile there later if you want any of ‘em.”

“Actually,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. I feel Harry tense beside me. “I have a book for you.”

She leans down to where her tote rests and pulls something out. She lays it on her lap first, where we can’t see it. When she looks up to us she has tears in her eyes and her chin quivers.

“Please,” she whispers before pausing. My stomach drops as I take her in. Her face is blotchy and her hair hangs around her face, hiding half of it. She’s definitely cried before coming here, and I almost feel like deja vu as she places the book on the table. “Please don’t hate me.”

She slides it across to us. It’s just a simple leather hardcover, about 30cm by 30cm. The thing in my gut, the suspicion or the intuition, it turns into a cackling ball of energy and moves up to my sternum. I put my hand over it, and then move it to Harry’s leg. He’s frozen like a statue, staring at the book.

“Please open it?” Bridget says with tears streaking her face.

When Harry doesn’t make a move I pull it the rest of the way towards us. I open the first page to a few baby pictures.

I’d never held her in my hands, never even saw her. I’d pushed her out into this world, into another’s arms. But somehow I know who this is.

“Bridget,” I don’t even look at her. I start to frantically flip through the pages. The baby grows, 2 months, 6 months, 1 years old. Another girl joins in some photos, she always has an arm around the other child. I flip and flip and flip and even though I’m expecting it the photo stops my breathing.

I stare at the clone, or the original, of the photo on my fridge.

I’m frozen until another photo is slid towards us. It comes into view: two teenagers on Halloween night. The guy is dressed like the girl, the girl is dressed like the guy.

I throw my chair back and in the time it takes to walk to Bridget she stands too.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs but I just do what I wanted to do the second she was born.

I hug her. I hold her to my chest the way I never got to over 19 years ago. She belonged here. She never got to be here.

She was finally home. My daughter.

“Bridget,” I cry into her hair. Harry’s hair. She had Harry’s hair, his eyes. She got my nose and everything else. I was holding my daughter. She was in my arms, finally.

She really did look like Taylor as a baby.

“I’m sorry,” she cries again. “I was so scared and I screwed up and-“

“No.” I say fiercely. I push her out of the hug so I can grab her face. I wipe her tears and I nearly cry again. How many tears had I missed? Over skinned knees, playground taunts, first crushes and friendship breakups. How many tears had I missed? “Don’t say that. You’re here. You’re—Harry!”

I turn to him, why wasn’t he here?

He’s sat exactly where he was before. Frozen, staring at a spot between the picture of us and Bridget.

I let go of Bridget and move back to him.

“Baby,” I touch his arm and he springs up. Tears coat his lashes.

“‘Scuse me,” he brushes past me and heads out into the hall. Away from us. I want to go after him but I don’t want to leave Bridget—our daughter, alone.

“I’m sorry I knew I would ruin things I-“

“Please,” I want to go after him so bad but I go to Bridget and pull her into a gentler hug. When we part I keep hold of her shoulders. I never wanted to let her go. “He’s just processing it. He’s fine. He’s not mad at you I promise. Promise.”

She bites her lip, it reminds me of Taylor. She was a bit of everyone I knew and loved. She was the love that Harry and I always had. She was ours.

“I just got so scared when I tried to reach…I didn’t mean to deceive you. I didn’t. I felt terrible every day.”

“It’s okay,” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “There’s nothing to be sorry about-“

“But I saw you,” she cuts me off. “After I finally called you back and then just like, ghosted you. And every time I saw you at school it was like…I knew I was to blame. And it made me want to tell you even more but I got more scared any time I came close to it. I almost said it at your wedding—it would have been so stupid. Philippe stopped me.”

“I understand,” I did. I also didn’t care about any of it. She was here. That’s all I cared about. I wanted to know everything about her, I needed Harry here though. “Look Harry…your…Harry. I’m just going to check on him. You stay here and just…”

I trail off and leave. I had to be sure he was okay.

He’s not in the bedroom, or the office. I try the door to the toilet and it opens, he’s sitting on the edge of the tub with his head in his hands.

“She leave?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Oh baby,” I crouch in front of him. “No. She’s still here but I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m pathetic,” he buries his hands in his hair. “I’ve been waiting my whole adult life for this and all I do is freeze. Her first impression is of her dad just freezing and then running away.”

I try not to laugh at his dramatic retelling. “Har you know that’s not true. She’s known you before this. It was a shock-“

“You were fine.”

“You know I…always suspected. Especially after the wedding.”

He looks up at that, finally. “You never said.”

“Harry, I felt crazy. Saying it out loud would have forced me to check myself into the psych ward. We all react differently, it doesn’t matter though. Our baby girl is here. The day we talked about!”

He takes a deep breath, and then another one. I guide him to stand and he looks so limp and sad that I squeeze him in a hug. “She doesn’t care how you reacted. She just wants to know you.”

Harry sighs again, he splashes his face with water and we walk out. I was nervous for him.

We walk back into the living room and my heart sinks when Bridget isn’t there. But her things are?

A few steps further and she’s at the stovetop, stirring a pot.

“Oh sorry,” she steps back and nearly throws the spatula into the pot. “It was boiling a lot and-“

“Bridget,” Harry ignores most of what she’s saying and she freezes at the sound of her name. He’s a foot away from her now. I watch him raise a hand to her face and then drop it. His face is a cross between heartbreak and awe as they drink each other in. I wait in anticipation.

“Hi,” she finally says shyly. But it breaks the ice. Harry pulls her into a hug and she returns it tenfold from the looks of it. I can’t tell who’s crying, but I give them their moment as I turn the dials off on the stovetop.

It was just a regular Saturday, except it wasn’t. Our worlds exploded with our past and was putting itself back together again, all the old broken pieces were being mended back together with love. My chest drowns in it, I can barely breathe. In Harry’s arms, there’s no denying she’s ours.

***

“Thank you,” Bridget says as we tuck into dinner. Harry’s lunch prep had gone cold as we’d all sat down and talked about how Bridget found us (looking me up, finding out I was teaching a course she was interested in, forcing her friend Philippe to take it to see if I was who she thought I was), and going through her album. I found out more about her sister Louisa and her parents. It was weird seeing pictures of them, in my mind they were the people that took my baby as their own and for Bridget they were mum and dad.

We finally decide to do something about food when our stomachs rumble. Harry goes back to cooking, showing Bridget what he’s doing until she leaves to take a call. I recognize Philippe on the caller ID.

I take Bridget’s place but I’m more of an extra weight tied to Harry’s back as I hug hun from behind. We don’t even have words on what this all means to us. For now, just touching each other keeps us grounded, it keeps is in what was happening together.

Bridget comes back from the call when we’re nearly done.

“I just want to say I am sorry—and I know you said not to be,” Bridget says quickly before I can get a word in. “But I never meant to deceive the both of you. My plan was to take your class, leave the letter and then talk. I Googled you so much it felt like I knew you. Yet when we spoke in your office that day, you felt familiar but In a different way than the person I studied. I just liked you so much, and I wanted you to like me. I was scared maybe you wouldn’t. So I just screwed the plan and messed up everything.”

“Hey,” Harry hands her a tissue and she takes it. Under the table he squeezes my hand. “It’s in the past.”

“I know. Still made me feel awful. And I couldn’t tell you but I also couldn’t stay away. I applied for TA and, it felt like having a friend and a sister and a mentor all in one. And I…I screwed up. I took it too far. And then you invited me to your wedding—I got to attend my parents’ wedding! It was so absurd. I couldn’t stop crying.”

Sounded like me. But I don’t say anything. We listen to her attentively.

“I only told my sister. I wanted to tell you two before I told my parents.”

I think about my parents. Harry’s. I didn’t want to overwhelm her but I couldn’t wait to introduce her to everyone that already loved her.

“I just hope…no, I know I hurt you two a lot. I didn’t mean to. I am really sorry about it all.”

“Bridget,” Harry’s hand comes down on hers. “What’s done is over. There are so many things we wish we did differently but ultimately it’s all done. All that matters is you’re here, now. You’re our daughter we never got to meet and you’re finally here.”

Harry’s voice cracks on the last word and he sits back and laughs away the tears. “Sorry. I’m a mess today aren’t I? Your first impression of me is a crying mess.”

“That’s not my first impression,” Bridget laughs but her eyes also fill with tears. “That night at the pub. When I saw you two together I nearly bloody fainted! When I looked you up y/n, there’d been an old wedding registry with another bloke. But then seeing you two together?! I just couldn’t believe it—I thought I dreamed it. And then I nearly cried because my bio parents were somehow together?? And the way you just stared into my soul it felt like you knew who I was.”

I laugh, remembering but also knowing exactly what look Bridget was talking about. “He does have a piercing look doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. It could gut someone!”

“That makes it sound awful!” Harry laughs. “Don’t say that.”

“It nearly gutted me! I really thought oh shite—“ Bridget freezes and looks between us like we were gonna scold her for swearing and I nearly leap across the table to hug her again then. “I uhm, I thought you knew who I was.”

“We thought it then,” I let my eyes roam over her. I realize I’d always been a mother, despite not having my daughter. Holding her earlier had awoken an instinct in me and now every time I look at her I feel a rush of love and something fierce. I wonder if Harry felt it too. “But we thought we were mental!”

Her phone chimes as we laugh. She flips it around and then tucks it into her purse.

“You need to take that?” Harry asks.

“No it’s just Philippe. He was at the wedding? I was just talking to him, I hadn’t texted him in a while he wanted to know how it went.”

“Philippe,” I say with a knowing smile. Bridget blushes and Harry asks what he’s missing out on so I fill him in.

“He sounds like a good lad,” Harry comments.

“A good lad?” I repeat. “Are you hearing him?”

Bridget laughs behind her hand and I can’t stop staring at her. I have to force myself to go back to eating.

“He is. I might have told him about how I felt?”

“Wow,” I put my fork down. “You’re confessing an awful lot lately.”

She blushes even deeper. And suddenly I’m grateful of the weird and layered way she’d come into our lives. Despite hiding the truth, it had allowed us to get to know each other as people first. Without any baggage or give me any inclination to fit who I thought she should be onto who was in front of me.

I got to know her for the young woman she was first, so did Harry in a way. And I would be forever grateful for that despite all the pain in between.

“Sorry,” I get up. The affection was overflowing from my cup. “I’m going to give you another hug because I just can’t believe all this.”

“Ohh,” Bridget stands to meet me and we wrap our arms around each other. Here was a girl I already knew, here was my daughter waiting to be known.

“God, she really is our daughter.” Harry quips from his side of the table. He explains when Bridget looks over at him, “y/n is known to be a big touchy person, I’m kinda like that too.”

“Oh my god,” she smiles at us. “I’m like that too! My sister hates hugs. My dad’s 2 pats on the back man, 3 if he’s feeling a lot. I always wondered if…”

She trails off. It seems to hit all of us all over again every so often. For me it’s when she talks about her mum and dad and it’s not Harry and I. The reminder that she went 19 years becoming her own person that we now were catching up on.

For her, it seems it was realizing all the parts of us that were in her.

“You got Harry’s hair, and eyes.” I comment.

“I did! I realized that as soon as I saw a photo online. But I do look a bit like you.”

“You do! I should show you some younger pictures of us and our families. You’ll see more similarities.”

“Wow. So you have a younger sister. How about you Harry?”

“Older sister. Seems we all have sisters.”

Bridget and I make eye contact, remembering a conversation we had what feels like ages ago about having sisters.

We continue our dinner, swapping stories and filling her in on anything she wants to know. She leaves after, claiming to have to get back home, she had an exam on Monday to study for.

When she leaves Harry and I can’t stop talking about her. Or gushing would be more accurate.

“Did you see the way she laughs?” I’d tell him. “Pure you!”

“The way she tucks her hair back,” he would retaliate. “Just like you. You did that especially back in secondary.”

We talk until we’re exhausted, crawling into bed just staring in wonder. There were still so many details to figure out, so many things to cover, it could drown a person thinking of it all.

But like an anchor in the sea, Harry and I fall asleep with hand clasped together. We keep each other buoyed amidst it all.

It was going to take time for this all to sink in but all I’ve ever had was time, and questions. I think I was finally getting time and answers.

Age 39:

Harry’s pov: Having our daughter in our lives is simple and complicated at the same time. At first there were a lot of things to untangle but as time went on, the knots loosened until our lives became their own knots, tangled into each other.

Meeting her parents, the people I met once many years ago, was likely the strangest part. They already felt so familiar as soon as they greeted us in a warm embrace, as if we were there own children. I guess the last time they saw us we were.

“Oh look at you,” Bridget’s mum had squeezed us tight. Her dad had pat us three times and we took it to mean as much as a hug.

In my mind they were always the age they had been then. They were probably around the age we are now. Seeing them sport greys and fine lines, it was like stepping into a time portal.

Lou, Bridget’s sister, eyes us for the first little while before warming up and sharing all kinds of stories—especially the embarrassing kind with us.

When Bridget meets Y/n’s family, I can tell they’re loud and overwhelming at first but we’re all surprised when Taylor embraces Bridget and takes to her immediately.

She brings out old pictures they had of Y/N and I, but every time she says, “your mum and dad…” when she talks about us through the pictures, I notice y/n protesting less and less.

It makes me feel funny, I keep thinking I was going to wake up and find out it had all been a dream.

“This feels very full circle to me,” y/n’s mum says. She’s watching Taylor talk about her baby bump—she was 3 months along. “I saw Bridget as a wee baby when they handed her over to her parents. I remember running late to hospital and making it to the room just in time to see it. I blinked and now she’s in my living room!”

“Sometimes I feel the same way,” I confess.

My family is slightly quietier but they all fuss over our daughter. They ask a million questions and when it’s all over we take Bridget for ice cream. It’s a pseudo-recreation of a life we never had.

Bridget eases into it too. At first she had bouts of disappearing on us. No more than a couple days. But we give her space, understanding it was overwhelming.

Every time I see her, I see her mum—y/n. I was never there when y/n gave birth. We had to drive up from London when we got the news and by the time I got there the dust had settled.

I never even had the potential of seeing her. I’d always been more sympathetic of y/n; her loss had been physical, mine was slightly more abstract.

Even though I’d spent every year since regretting that I wasn’t there to at least glimpse her, I’m glad now I hadn’t been there to see her. If I had to live the last 18 years with this feeling in my chest I don’t think I could have lasted that long. I don’t know how y/n did it. It’s a concoction of deep unconditional love, and tenderness, and recognition, wrapped in a shell of protectiveness. It took me a while to sort through it all but I had a conversation with my parents one night at dinner Y/n and I had visited. And they’d laughed because they had told me that was simply what being a parent was.

“Maybe she regrets it,” I had said the second time she ghosted us. Really it had just been over a day where she hadn’t gotten back to us. But I couldn’t help the overthinking, being tuned into any potential of loss with our daughter.

Somehow, y/n was the cool headed between us two in these moments. Maybe it was being a mum, maybe it was knowing Bridget beforehand, but she was very in sync with her.

“She needs space. The last thing we want her to be is overwhelmed too. Now don’t overwhelm yourself love, at least she’s in our lives.” She’d say.

It takes us the start of the summer and all those meets later for Bridget to finally feel at ease.

We invite her on a road trip, we were renting a place in the Cotswold for a few days and told her to bring Philippe. When she doesn’t even hesitate to say yes Y/n tells me we’d done it: she was finally more comfortable than overwhelmed.

“Y/N made me a better man,” I say after a couple drinks. We’re all sat around a fire outside the house. Despite it being a warm day of hiking the night had cooled significantly and we’d decided that boozy hot cocoas was the way to go. “I’ve lost my ways a lot of times as an adult. But she’s always been my north star. Even when we got back together she led me to being sober and getting my shite together.”

“Oh…” Philippe looks down at his drink. “Are you…”

“No,” I laugh, Philippe was the most-conscientious teen I’d ever met. “I got sober to get my life in order. But…it’s in order now. I haven’t done anything crazy for over a year now.”

A little before our wedding I decided I wanted to end my sobriety. It had been a thought for months, and I had waited before giving in. But I really felt more in control of my life. I faced my life decisions head on, I confronted my past with y/n’s help, and I didn’t think I’d lose control again. It had been a shaky first week but I was right. It was a proud moment for me.

“You two really have something special,” Bridget comments.

“They do,” Philippe adds. “I can’t believe you got your happy ending after so many years!”

“Yeah,” y/n says as I lay my hand on her thigh, palm up. “Y’know what they say about loving someone and letting them go.”

“I guess you did that with me,” Bridget says so quietly we almost don’t hear her. But out here in the countryside we do.

“We didn’t want to,” I remind her.

“No I know.” She smiles, it’s a bit sad. Philippe tugs her closer. I could see how much he cared for her in that small gesture. “I’m not saying it like that. I hear your story and I just imagine how different my life would have been if I was raised by my, by you two. I wouldn’t have this life. And I really like this life.”

She looks at Philippe and I feel y/n squeeze my hand. She often said they reminded her of us when we were younger; the kind of love you’d do anything for.

“But you two loved me enough to let me go. To let each other go. It’s fucking sad but it’s beautiful. Life’s weird.”

“Here here,” Y/N raises her nearly empty cup of hot cocoa. “Life’s weird, sad, beautiful, but lately my life’s been full of so much love. I wish I could sell all the excess, I think I could solve a lot of world problems with it.”

“Wow,” I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “That’s one hell of a speech.”

“I have a speech,” Philippe stands, a little tipsy, and clears his throat. Bridget rolls her eyes but they shine for him. “Bridget you’re the love of my life. Since we were 13. But Harry and Y/N, I think I love you too. Ever since we were 15, I’ve watched Bridge struggle for answers about her past. And you two have given her all the answers, welcomed her—and me actually, into your lovely life. I’ve watched her become old Bridge but even more confident. I’m falling harder for her these days. And I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“Aw Philippe come here,” y/n lets of my hand to walk around and give him a hug. How quickly strangers became family.

Bridget grumbles about being left out and joins the hug. Soon I join in too. I want to create a mold of this moment, I think as I squeeze them against me, I’d make it out of plaster and let it dry. Any time we wanted, we could always find our way back to this moment here.

Age 40:

Y/N and I watch our daughter cross the stage. Beside us are our parents and in front of us sits Bridget’s parents and her sister. She has a whole army cheering for her. This was the first milestone event we could all really show up for, and show up we did.

“I can’t believe this,” I was so proud of her. I know the kudos went to her parents, and herself, but I beam with pride. Honestly Bridget could spin in a circle in front of me and I would be a proud dad.

“We need to get photos,” mum leans over and says so seriously, as if we hadn’t planned on getting a million already.

We have a framed picture in our hall, Y/N and I on our wedding day, our daughter in between us. Her graduation photo is definitely making it. She makes fun of this wall, calls it the Styles hall of fame, and I never mention it but she always lingers a few second longer in front of the photo of the three of us.

I do too.

“It makes me so sad you won’t be so close to me anymore,” my mum tells Bridget later. We’re all piled in our flat, drinks and celebratory cake in everyone’s hands.

It reminds me of mine and y/n’s 40th birthday, we had gathered our family and friends here and it was some of their first times meeting our daughter. Today is more intimate, and focused on Bridget.

“I know it makes me sad too, but I’ll be here often, visiting Philippe.”

“Only visiting Philippe?” I raise a brow.

“Is there someone else I’m supposed to be visiting?” She mirrors my raised brow.

As Bridget’s gotten more comfortable, me and her could banter for hours if you let us, it’s one of those things that brought us closer together—having the same sense of humour. It’s allowed us to have just as deep heart-to-hearts, a handy joke always close to the surface.

Y/N always says seeing me like that, thoughtful and silly, reminds her of the boy she fell for. I can’t deny that I’ve been feeling closer to my 20 year old self than my 40 year old self lately.

“She’s too cheeky,” Bridget’s mum says. “But I have to say I’ll be glad to have her back.”

Lou, Bridget’s sister, was moving to Wales. Apparently she wanted to know more about her background, and take a trip with her bio mum to visit her bio dad.

I think Bridget was moving back to Coventry to keep her parents’ loneliness away; she said she would commute to Birmingham for school. Even though she got accepted into law schools in London, going to a uni close to her parents just showed me how close she was to her parents. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“I’ll have somebody to watch cricket with again,” her dad says.

“Ohh,” Bridget throws her sister a side-eye. “I love cricket…”

We all laugh at her complete lack of concealing her true feelings.

Later that night, it’s just Bridget’s parents and us. The kids are on the balcony talking.

“I know we’ve said it before,” I say after a long silence. We’d just been watching the kids talk and laugh outside. “But I want to say thank you again.”

Bridget’s dad shakes his head. “It was the greatest pleasure of our lives getting to raise those two girls.”

He looks over at his wife and they smile at one another. Seeing them interact, I’m grateful that somehow fate had led us to them. While Y/N and I were figuring life out, while I fucked up a lot of things, she was raised on a steady and stable foundation.

“She’s incredible,” I murmur. “She’s gonna be a lawyer. She’s going to change the world.”

“She sure will,” her mum says. “We should be thanking you two. For giving us Bridget. I know it wasn’t easy, you told me you thought about her nearly every day. But we can’t imagine our lives without her.”

We sit in a comfortable silence, looking out at the kids until they notice and start to ask questions through the glass.

“She’s happier,” her mum says smiling at Bridget and Lou exaggerating their words through the glass. “She stopped being like this before she left for uni. We thought we lost her but…I think everything worked out for the best.”

Y/N glances at me. Her eyes crinkle when she finds me looking at her first, her eyes steady me as she says what I was thinking, “I think so too.”

Age 45

Your pov: “When did she say she would be here?”

“6?” Harry says for the tenth time.

“It’s 6:20 do you think something happened? She hasn’t texted has she?”

“My love,” Harry puts down the cutlery he was arranging on the table and holds my face in his hands. “They’re driving from Coventry, they probably hit some traffic.”

“Maybe I should call her?”

Harry sighs and squishes my face.

“Don’t! You’ll make more wrinkles.” I warn.

“I love your wrinkles,” Harry kisses my forehead right where the pesky wrinkles had been growing deeper over the last few years despite the additions to my night routine.

Harry always said our wrinkles were just the stories of our lives showing through. I told him to get himself undereye cream.

“You don’t think I’m aging handsomely?” He strokes the moustache he started growing last year. At this age, even I couldn’t deny it made him even more attractive.

“Well it’s no good if you’re ageing handsomely and I age like a troll.”

“I will love you if you age into a troll.”

“But will you love me if I turn into a worm?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d buy you the best soil and keep you in a beautiful pot.”

“You wouldn’t take me fishing?” I ask. He sighs. Last year while we were taking a trip up north for Lou’s wedding, we’d gotten into a fight and when I asked him the question while he was still stewing he said he’d take me fishing. It had, ironically, broken the iciness of his anger and we’d laughed about it so hard he’d nearly had to pull over.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he wraps me into his chest nearly suffocating me.

I’d spent half my life with a lot of difficulties, but life now felt easy compared to it. I had the privilege of getting older with the man I adored, got to watch my daughter flourish as an adult and a lawyer, watch her get married to the love of her life, and all the while live comfortably in the heart of this city I called home.

When Bruno starts barking though, I gasp and push myself off of Harry, “that’s them!”

Bruno continues to bark as I rush to the door. We’d got him a couple years ago as a pup and I can’t believe it had taken us that long to get a dog. He filled our lives with laughter and long walks. We loved him.

“Down.” I say to him. I open the door and hold my hands out while Bruno runs in circles beside me.

“Ahhh sorry we’re late!” Bridget steps into my hug and I tug Philippe’s hood so he can join. Bruno goes for Philippe when they walk in, he’d gotten obsessed with him after Philippe took care of him while Harry and I took an anniversary trip last year.

“Where are my hellos!?” Bridget says to Bruno and he barks, standing on his back legs to paw at her leg.

I hadn’t seen the two of them since March, that was 6 months ago. It had been their wedding, and they’d gone on a month long honeymoon after that, after which Harry and I had taken time off to road trip around Europe with Bruno, and then time had just zipped by.

After a hearty dinner, Harry and I carry out the birthday cake we’d been hiding.

“You didn’t have to do this!” Bridget fans her face but we treat it like we do any special occasion, plus making up for all the ones we’d missed. We get photos and exchange presents, she cries reading the cards and the whole time she says she had a present for us.

It’s a small bag, Harry and I guess that it was something for Bruno but when we take out a box it doesn’t sound like much when we shake it.

“Is this a prank gift? There’s nothing in it?” Harry asks.

“Open it!” He was making me antsy.

“You open it,” he hands me the box. Bridget and Philippe stare intently at my hands.

I undo the bow and slowly open the box. There’s a small square of tissue paper, and then a piece of paper. I remove both but something catches my eye.

I flip the paper over and stop breathing.

“Is that-“ Harry stops talking too. We stare at the piece of paper in our hands. It looks so much like one I had held 28 years ago. But it’s not.

“Bridge,” I look up at the couple. The parents-to-be.

“We’re having a baby,” Bridget says. Philippe and her are gripping hands and I throw everything off of me to launch myself at her.

“A baby!” I hear Harry say and joining us. “You’re having a baby! Y/n!”

“I never thought we’d be grandparents,” I look up at Harry.

“Those wrinkles were coming in for a reason,” he teases.

We never did have any other kids. Quite frankly, neither of us wanted any. When we first got together we were just starting to get comfortable with the reminder that we had a daughter out there and we could talk about her freely with each other. It felt like having a third person in our little family.

After Harry proposed, while we planned our wedding, we talked about it but we never thought it felt right. We both had first marriages where a lack of conceiving had just put a strain on the relationship we didn’t think we needed. We’d also felt like it was betraying something, before we met our first child.

When Bridget did reach out, it became about catching up on lost time. And then with her in our lives we knew what we suspected all along. We had each other, and that was enough. Bridge was our bonus. And getting to be aunt and uncle to our nieces and nephews it was enough. It was a full enough life.

We never even dreamed in our 20s we’d get to be parents and now we would get to be grandparents! I never realized until this moment that I wanted this. Really wanted it.

“Do you know the gender?” Harry asks.

“No,” Philippe answers. “We were thinking of doing one of those reveal parties? But not for a couple months.”

“Wow,” my hands drift down to Bridget’s belly and I remember I had something. I leap away from the group and find the box in my closet, it’s painted pink with random collages from old magazines. It hosts old diaries, photos, a hospital bracelet, and an ultrasound.

“This was you once,” I show her the picture when I get back. “I carried you like that once upon a time.”

She takes it with teary eyes, holding it close to her face to make out the shape of her. She hands it to Philippe and grabs my hands.

“I’ve thought about it before, but when I got pregnant I couldn’t wait to tell you-“

“She kept telling me I had to make a trip out to London just so she could give you the news.” Philippe interrupts, eyes scanning the ultrasound still.

“No really,” Bridget laughs. “I did. It’s like I got this new perspective.”

She puts my hands on her belly and covers mine with hers. I feel everything at once then, all the heartbreak I ever went through to get here.

“I can’t imagine giving this baby up. And it’s barely 3 months. What you were willing to do to give me a better life-“

She breaks off and Philippe squeezes her shoulder. I watch my daughter try to gain control of her emotions. I remember when I was pregnant with her, anything would set me off.

“It must not have been easy. After carrying me like this for 9 whole months. Thank you-“ she looks up to where Harry’s standing. I barely register his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you as my mum and dad, for making the hardest decision I can imagine ever making, so I could have something you knew you couldn’t provide.”

I reel my tears in, save them for later that night in bed while Harry holds me tight against him.

Right now I kiss my daughter and tell her what a good mother she will make. I tell her and Philippe how proud I was of them, how excited, how wonderful this was.

Age 46

The day we meet our granddaughter is seared into my brain. We get the call at 8:35pm, Harry and I were staying in a B&B in Coventry despite Bridget’s mum insisting we stay with her. We’d been here all weekend, booked it all week, not wanting to miss Bridget’s delivery date.

“Y/N she’s here,” her mum whispers into the phone. Her voice is filled with joy and giddiness. “She’s here.”

“We’re coming,” I say. Harry’s already at the door and we rush out into the night to see our granddaughter.

She has the perfect little face, and when she finally wakes up I gasp when I see Harry’s eyes looking back at me. I turn to him, to see if he noticed, but he’s teary-eyed and gazing at the baby in awe. I soak it in for a second, imagining this exact look if we’d kept our baby so many years ago.

Bridget’s parents had given us the room, to give us a moment alone, and I can’t be more grateful. Bridget encourages us to hold her and as her soft body is pressed into my body I let out a sob and hand her over to Harry. I excuse myself and step outside the room.

Lou’s kids sit on the floor outside, playing with whatever toys are spilling out of a miniature backpack. I focus on the flashy colours, trying to calm down, counting the number of toys falling out.

My life was a 180 from 10 years ago. This moment would go down in our history books as one of the best days of our lives.

But I can’t deny the bittersweet. The experience threatens to push me into the bitter past of not even getting to hold Baby Bridget. But with it comes an undeniable sweetness of getting to experience this now.

I take a deep breath and walk back in. Harry and Bridget stop mid-sentence and turn to me. Bridget’s face is streaked with tears, Harry’s looks concerned but I smile. He sits with the pink bundle to his chest and I ache.

“Don’t look so obvious you were talking about me,” I try a joke.

“Are you alright?” Bridget asks.

“May I hold her?” I ask in return.

I sit on the edge of the bed and she’s placed in my arms; she’s perfect. Just as perfect as Bridget must have been.

“She’s got Philippe’s hair,” I gently stroke the wispy blonde strands.

“She’s got my eyes, her grandpa’s eyes.”

I look at Harry. And he catches the stricken look on my face when Bridget tips forward and whispers to her baby.

“Look baby, this is your mumma’s mum, and your mumma’s dad. You’ve got his beautiful eyes. Say hi to grandma!”

My throat tightens. “Bridge.”

She leans away, her eyes dart between us. “I know I call you Y/N and Harry. It made it easier at first but…you are my mum and dad. Even though I have another pair. You are my mum and dad. And I want her to know you like that.”

“Oh love,” Harry leans down and kisses the top of our daughter’s head. She keeps her green eyes trained on me, grasping my hand that’s wrapped under her baby’s.

I mouth a thank you, my voice couldn’t pass through the block in my throat. She squeezes my hand and it sets the baby off. Remembering when my nephews were this young, I just hand her back to Bridget knowing she only wanted her mum.

Harry and I stay in the waiting room. We couldn’t go home, even though we had spent our allotted time we had inside the room, we stay there.

We watch Lou’s kids as Bridget’s family gathers in her room. We stay as they fall asleep, draped over us. I remember when Taylor’s kids were this small, they would fall asleep anywhere.

We talk in whispers, I don’t remember what about exactly. Mostly how excited we were. How there was so much to look forward to. How different our lives looked a decade ago.

“One day we’ll tell our grandkids,” I remember Harry saying. “We’ll tell them all about us, how we met, how our love burned so bright it shone in the sky. We lost each other but our love was always there to guide us back home.”

“We’ll see them grow up, all the memories we missed.”

“We’ll change diapers.”

“We’ll change diapers,” I giggle, half-delirious by the lack of sleep. It was probably 2am and I was tired.

When I gaze up at Harry I remember him holding our granddaughter. I replace her with Bridget. For a minute I allow myself to imagine how that would have been.

“I think you would have made an amazing mum if we did things differently,” Harry whispers into my hair.

“You too.” I whisper back.

“An amazing mum? You think?” The edge of his lips tug upwards.

“Harry,” I warn. We had kids sleeping on us we were trying not to wake.

“I love you.” He says in response. “To the stars and back.”

On our drive home I can’t stop looking at him. I always wondered how it would be like to grow old with someone; when I was younger and watch my own parents celebrate anniversaries. And then when I was older and my first marriage was so rocky.

But thinking about it now is like a simple mathematical equation. You take two lives, two individuals, and you bracket them in love. You add an exponent—the decision to continue choosing each other. And you get a lifelong commitment. No matter the situation, no matter the challenges or the changes, you choose to choose each other.

His side profile lights up by an oncoming car. For a second he’s the same boy I feel in love with, a few more gray hairs, a few more wrinkles, and a moustache. But he’d always be the boy I followed out to the roof, who held my hand in our high school hallway, the one who turned an I into a we when I got pregnant, I see the man I had coffee with after a run-in at the Whole Foods, I see the broken heart from a harsh life sitting on the steps of a church, I see a bookworm, I see a father, a husband, and now a grandfather. I see the one person who knows me like the back of his hand. The one I am home with always.

“What is it?” Harry asks as we pull into our b&b. “Have you been asleep this whole ride or have you been staring at me?”

“Staring at you?” I ask. “You think I was staring at you the whole ride?”

“Well you were really silent. And facing me

“I was thinking.”

“About me?”

“Why are you so desparate!? Do I not show you enough love regularly?”

“I could always use more,” Harry looks half asleep as we reach our door.

“The people are right: you give someone a hand and watch as they take the whole arm,” I tease.

“When you gave me your hand, I made you a wife.” Harry retorts.

“Ooh,” I poke him. “I have to say that’s a good comeback for being half-asleep.”

Harry grins back. “You keep me sharp.”

“And you keep me happy. Now open the door so I can stop freezing out here!”

We walk into the warmth of our b&b.

For so much of our lives, our past decisions haunted us. We let so much go. Now life was repaying us, returning it all back, with interest.

***

In a small b&b in the middle of a town called Coventry, two lovers crawl into bed. They’d just become grandparents and they carry an exhausted buzz about them as they try to fall asleep. They’re both thinking of the other, of their daughter, of the tiny bundle they held in their arms today.

Some 20 minutes away their daughter lays in a hospital bed, an exhausted buzz putting her to sleep. She dreams of her mother who gave her up, how she had found her parents in the end, and dreams about the kind of mother she’ll be.

A few doors down lay her newborn daughter, she doesn’t dream of much, not yet, but she’s in for a lifetime of love.

Most of life is what we made it. Y/N and Harry loved deeply enough to make it.

———————————————

TAGLIST: @quinnwritezz @unknownnbihh @dilfhrrys @umadirectioner @hermionelove @anonymous-91 @meganxfddf

#harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #writingsfromhome #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #if you love something #dad!harry #its not my fave but I was getting tired of tweaking it #to shorten it #theres just so much to catch up on #kinda nervous #but also kinda done

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chimivx · 11 months

Text

public occurrences. // myg.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader

summary: It's been almost a year since Vegas. As one would expect, life hasn't gotten any easier. If anything it's gotten even more chaotic. The world knows who you are now... There aren't anymore secrets to hide.

words: 6k

warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS. use of cuss words, they talk of anxiety, some mental health situations, talks about a miscarriage, talks about Jin and other members leaving. other than that- not much else. If I missed anything PLEASE let me know.

a/n: CAN'T BELIEVE ANOTHER VEGAS IS HERE. Enjoy my loves. Thank you for all the love and support always. <3 It's just a short little drabble of one specific moment of time, but I thought it was pretty important.

~ the end of february 2023 ~

A dull pain begins to erupt where you’ve had your jaw clenched for the last twenty minutes. A soreness in your jaw you’re not quite sure will ever be able to go away. For the past few months it’s found itself in this compromised position.

Your entire body is made of steel, your joints creaking as you attempt to pull yourself together amidst the panic ensuing within your nervous system. Limbs heavy to the point you aren’t sure whether or not you’ll be able to exit the vehicle.

Breathe in, breathe out. The words repeat.

Breath in, breathe out. It made you want to sing Hobi’s song. Inhale, inhale, exhale, exhaaale. But there was no time for fun. Not when you were about to walk outside in front of cameras for the first time in eight years.

The morning was spent in a blur, the attempts to perfect your hair and makeup happening at an hour too early, much like how you rolled out of bed. An hour too early. You were awake before your daughter even had the chance to stir.

Anxiety had been simmering beneath your skin for weeks. You could barely eat, the nausea would rip through you violently. Again, for the past few months that’s how life has been, nausea, anxiety, melancholy thoughts and dreams, however this event seemed to be adding twice as much. These past few days you’ve probably accumulated a total of nine hours of sleep. You had more shuteye the week after your daughter's birth.

There seemed to be a butterfly effect from the events in Vegas. The incident that caused countless meetings and endless discussions because the company just couldn’t handle anymore media control or protection. You should never have trusted that girl.

BigHit took their time, the company drug out the announcement as long as they could so it would surpass Jin’s deployment and your goddamn wedding. Now, with it being the end of February, Yoongi’s been traveling absolutely everywhere for basketball games, photoshoots, and he’s announced a tour… It was about to happen. For the very first time in eight years you were officially about to be on camera, branded by flashes, posted online permanently, forever going to be seen and known as Min Yoongi’s wife.

Next to you, Yoongi grips your knee tight, in hopes to settle your worries. Glancing down to his knobby hand you sigh and suck in a deep breath.

“We’ll be fine,” he said softly. Meeting his comforting gaze, you attempt to smile, one that makes him laugh. “I promise. Remember everything we talked about?”

You do. Of course you do. It’s been playing on repeat for one hundred and sixty eight hours.

That’s how many hours are in a week. You had to google that.

When this entire plan was set in place you requested a play by play, a step by step tutorial- a rehearsal even! You were walking out into the public eye with your child for the first time. People knew who you were now.

There were going to be cameras, and fans, and paparazzi, and loud noises, and people rushing you, and standards to follow. It was all too much, it all seemed to be entirely too much. You were going to have a toddler on your hip, one who could barely stand to be in a room full of people her father worked with let alone god knows how many strangers at an airport.

“What happens first?” Yoongi asked, reaching for one of your hands to tangle his fingers with yours. He could feel your panic. “Tell me the first thing we’re going to do.”

Gulping, you respond, “Park.” Looking up at his short hair that you’re livid with- his long hair was dreamy, and sexy, and you could pull it- you receive another laugh. He hadn’t expected you to be so literal.

“Good, we’ll park,” he praised. “And then what?” Tipping his chin down his eyes widened a bit, becoming all the more endearing.

“Then, Branson and his team get out,” you said, feeling a bit better looking into his eyes. Yoongi gives you a soft smile, dragging his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Has Branson ever let you down?”

“Never,” you whispered. Almost nine incident free years with the man, after Yoongi, you depended on.

Your husband leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Exactly,” he said. “What happens next?”

Going through the last three simple steps, everything seemed ready to go to plan. Once Branson was ready, you were going to take your daughter out of her carseat, exit the car, and follow the men inside. You would be the one to carry your daughter, just in case. People were unpredictable in these situations, and Yoongi agreed that if something were to happen to him here, you should be the one to carry her inside. As much as that little comment terrified you to hear him say, he was right.

Simple as pie. You hoped.

In a perfect world that’s how it would happen, and you want nothing more than for this to go smoothly.

People knew your name. Everyone has found out that it’s been years. The company was prepared for mass destruction, and so were you and Yoongi. A first public appearance, this is where it would all go to shit. There isn’t much chaos people can fully ensue over the internet.

As for your friends, the two of you personally asked them to stay out of it and at the drop of a hat they agreed. The five boys and Sunny shook on it. No one would say a word publicly, no one would do any interviews, no tweets, no Instagram posts, no stories pushed, no Weverse comments. Silence. Radio silence.

Jin has most definitely heard what has happened, and the next time you and Yoongi get to see him, there will be tea to spill. Your heart aches whenever you think about him, especially for Yoongi. He’s had to go through this madness and so much more without his best friend.

The week after he left was complete and utter hell for your family. And not just because of Jin.

Pushing aside all thoughts of having to redo the motions with Hobi very soon, you come to realize that steps one and two of the plan have already commenced.

The black SUV was parked in front of the airport, and Branson and his team were setting themselves up. Through the dark tinted windows there are crowds upon crowds of people, masses of them so large one would think the entire band was here. It reminded you of a concert, they were all waiting in groups with their phones out, pointing them at the vehicles that you and your team were in.

Slapping your hand on top of Yoongi's, you grip it tight, digging your nails into his palm. He places his other right on top of yours.

“I can’t do it,” you mumbled, whipping your head to shoot him a terrified look.

Yoongi smiles, though your fear threatens to crack him. If this wasn’t ordered by the company he’d whisk you away to safety, getting inside the airport without a soul knowing. He’s broken these rules before, going against what his company wants for your sake, it’s been eight years of you coming first, you topping all things that have to do with his job.

Now that the gig was up, now that people knew who you were and knew that it’s been forever, he feels as though he owes it to his fans to do a three minute appearance. As much as he was deeply in love with you, he loved his fans almost as much. He wanted to show you off, he wanted the world to see who’s been keeping him sane all this time, who’s been the source of his happiness for years.

“Yanno, the last time you told me that you seemed to handle everything just fine,” he said, glancing at your sleeping daughter beside you. Blowing a gust of air through your lips, you roll your eyes.

“I didn’t have to do any work, D, they cut her out of me,” you grilled back, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t-” your words are cut off by a sudden short breath. “I feel like I can’t breathe,” escapes you in a whisper.

Branson taps his fist on the window a couple of times gently, signaling that he was ready for the three of you to come out. The murmurs from the crowds can be heard, leaking through the cracks in the doors, swarming around you constricting your chest.

Yoongi slips an arm around your back, holding you against him tight. Burying your face into his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and takes a deep breath. You can feel his beating heart steady between his lungs. This was just another day for him. He’s had ten years to grow used to this.

“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he said softly. Peeking up at him, you frown.

“What?” you question, lowering your brows. He nods a couple of times, giving you a small smile.

“I was afraid this was going to happen, because I knew this was going to happen,” he said.

“Me freaking out, right?” you sighed, your tone completely breathless. A soft hum leaves his chest as he ponders what you’ve said, then he shakes his head. “What?” you question again with more vigor.

“Well,” he huffs a gentle laugh, “I figured something along the lines of that would happen, but only ‘cause of her,” he nods to your daughter, “Not because you’re scared of going out there. You’re only worried for her. If it were seven years ago you think you’d feel this way?”

Shaking your head to answer him, the electricity coursing through your veins seems to subside.

“Exactly,” he smirked. “Before her you were dancing in the streets before my shows, you were talking to people, my fans! You were prancing around stadiums and concerts like it was nothing.”

“I loved doing that,” you smiled.

“Fuck yeah, you loved doing that,” he said, giving you the smallest shake. “And, you know what? It’s not just you going out there as my wife, right? They know what you’ve done for us, they know what you’ve made for us.”

Your smile starts to grow. He was right. The fans, the people, they loved your work. The music videos, the art, the TinyTan, the creative concepts, the photoshoots, all of it. They finally knew that it was you. The ghost creator had been unveiled.

“You probably have fans of your own,” Yoongi said matter of factly. “I guarantee you all these people are here for you, not me.” Frowning humorously, you make him laugh.

“Doubt that,” you said flatly.

“Alright, half and half,” he winked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We can do this, you can do this. We’re doing it together, like we do everything. We’ll get through this together. We always do. Just think, next time we see Jin we have to tell him all about this, he’ll never believe it.”

Averting your eyes from his, your mind is suffocated by the many, many things you’re going to have to tell Jin when you’re with him again, which you’re hoping is soon. So much has happened, so much has changed, and it’d only been about three months.

“Yeah,” you whispered, flickering your eyes up to Yoongi who’s flashing you a curious look. “He probably still thinks I’m pregnant.”

A flash of discomfort wrecks his expression for all of two seconds as he glances away from you with a breath. Swallowing hard, he relaxes his face and looks back at you, his lips pressed together tight.

“He, uh,” he began in a whisper, “He... knows.” Before you have a chance to say anything, the subtle shock on your face telling him plenty, he cuts you off. “I’m sorry, baby. I had to tell him, it’s Jin, that’s my best friend, he’s the only one I could even say the words to.”

Sitting up a bit, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek, dragging your thumb over his smooth skin. “D, it’s okay,” you reassured him, bobbing your head. His lips form a pout, one that gets you to giggle. “I promise, it’s okay.”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, feelings swirling around the empty air as you both choose what to do or say next. Yoongi leans into you, kissing your forehead once more before placing his own there.

“You’re so incredible,” he said, watching you flutter your eyes shut. “The strongest woman I know, the most talented woman I know. On top of having such a beautiful, creative mind, you’re a fucking fantastic mother.” Yoongi pauses, taking a deep breath, as do you. “He was lucky to have you for as long as he did.”

A lump lodges in your throat. Scrunching your face, you shake your head, rubbing your forehead to his.

“Don’t make me cry,” you said, voice wavering with uncertainty.

“Cry?” a tiny voice speaks up from your right, a yawn of the same intensity coming out of her straight after. Popping your eyes open you share a small smile with your husband, and just as you’re about to turn to your little one, Yoongi slips a hand beneath your chin, holding you in place.

“Hey,” his voice is soothing. “I love you.” Your heart flutters.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, accepting the quick kiss he gives you.

Turning to the carseat that has secured a permanent spot in this car, you smile at your daughter who has her head turned toward you and her father. Her sleepy eyes entice a happy hum from you.

“You were supposed to sleep through this,” you said sarcastically sweet. Yoongi chuckles, unbuckling from his seat. The clang of the metal on the door makes your heart skip a beat.

“No,” your daughter said. “No sleep. All done.” Her voice is tiny, and slightly broken, and not hitting all of the right sounds, but her speech has only been improving. The two of you speak to her like she’s a human being, saving the baby voices for when she’s feeling silly, which can attest to her strong vocabulary and understanding of conversation.

You’re beginning to think she is a genius like her father.

“Mama, up,” she cooed, reaching out her arms that were finally starting to get a little chubby. Her cheeks had caught up to her as well, they were finally perfectly pinchable.

Freeing her from the car seats restraints, your daughter aids you in her escape, launching herself forward and up into your arms with a shout.

“Oh!” she giggles once her arms are around your neck and her face is buried in your hair.

“Oh!” you and Yoongi copy her, to which she responds with another shout.

Her attentive eyes point out the window when she sits herself up, tapping on your shoulder a couple of times with her palm. Lifting a hand, she tries to point at the crowds of people.

“Where?” she asked curiously, looking to either of her parents for an answer. Her voice turned you into a complete puddle, the sound coming out as ‘Wheh?’, the middle syllable is even more pronounced when she questions the two of you again.

Yoongi brings a hand to her forehead, brushing away a few dark hairs that fell into her eyes. The girl hated bows, you stopped trying.

“We’re at the airport,” he told her, and she listened with all of her might. “We’re going on a plane, isn’t that fun? You like flying.” Her eyes blink a few times, taking her time to process the words.

Sighing aloud, dramatically of course, she glances out the window and mumbles a jumble of sounds. Following her gaze, you gulp.

Eager eyes of bystanders attempted to shatter the glass of the tinted windows.

“Mama,” your daughter said, looking at you. “Go, Mama,” she bounced once. “Go,” she bounced twice. You knew the moment you stepped out into the noise and the flashing lights that she would have a meltdown, but you admired her desire to get out of the car. Yoongi was right, she loved flying, it was her second favorite thing right now. Securely at number one was Jungkook, for a year and seven months. That spot was unattainable for anyone else.

“Shall we?” Yoongi offered, watching you fiercely, letting you take the lead. He waited patiently for your answer, heaving a sigh of relief when you finally gave him a tentative nod of your head.

“Dada, go,” your daughter babbled. “Mama, go. Dada, go. Mama, go.”

Sharing a laugh with Yoongi, you take a long deep breath and tighten your grip around her back, holding her in front of your chest. Smiling at you, your baby touched a hand to your cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered to her. She leans her head toward you and puts her nose on yours.

“Ah-luh-oo,” she tried her best to repeat. Stealing a kiss from her, you let Yoongi press a thousand to her cheek to make her giggle, and then it’s time.

Everything seems to move in slow motion, your vision tunneling as your husband opens the car door. Pulling a mask over his face, he sends you a reassuring wink before he rounds the vehicle.

Screams erupt from every corner of the space, and shouting from the team can already be heard. Strict shouting, like things were getting crazy already. Your daughter’s eyes are wide as she looks out the windows and up at you. Her curiosity has been swapped for a little bit of fear.

You couldn’t let her see you panic.

Sliding off of the leather seat and onto the concrete of the airport lot, you pull a mask over your own face and instantly slip a hand to the back of your baby's head. Her legs were wrapped around your torso, and the moment you stepped outside her arms clung around your neck for safety. You already had a suspicion that you weren’t going to have to actively try to hide her face, she would want to do that herself.

Your bags were already taken care of, there wasn’t anything else you needed to grab from the car other than your child and yourself. Everything else would be taken care of for you.

With another deep, dramatic breath, you hold your daughter close, allowing her to bury her face into your neck, and you circle the car like Yoongi had. Upon rounding the back, cameras that were already flashing began to flash faster, quicker. Wide eyed and stunned by the greeting of screams, you barely have time to process anything before Branson grabs your arm.

It’s a gentle tug, one to help keep you on track. He pulls you close to him, staying one step ahead of you as you wait for a couple of seconds in front of the car. Glancing amongst the crowd, it’s mainly full of paparazzi and probably some journalists. Behind the tall men and their cameras you can see the fans, the ones holding up their phones and jumping up and down trying to catch a glimpse at the commotion.

Airport security guards held some people back, though no one seemed to be trying to push through excessively, which was your main fear.

“Another minute here,” Branson said to you, leaning into your ear. “They need photos, then we go.” Nodding, you peek down at your girl who was content clinging to her mother and hiding from the chaos. A sound of admiration rips through the crowd as you stroke her back, one that surprises you.

Up ahead, close to the doors, Yoongi was walking backward slowly, watching you. His fans twisted their heads side to side, from him, to you, and back again. To spice things up a bit, he gives you a wave, and everyone goes nuts.

You can’t help but laugh at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. For some reason you had thought he’d treat you differently when you were outside, but aside from following the rules, he was still your husband. He points to the baby on your chest and questions you with a thumbs up. Another giant ‘Awh!’ rolls through the chattering crowd.

Sending a thumbs up back, the fans laugh, and cheer. Then, your heart plummets to your stomach.

From somewhere within the crowd your name is shouted. And then again. Before you knew it, the entire crowd wanted your attention. Overwhelmed, feeling utterly insane, your eyes well up with tears. You're unable to make out anything else they’re saying though, there were too many people talking at once, and to you, that was a good thing.

God forbid anybody had anything bad to say. You’ve heard it before, but you don’t need to live it in real time.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. Branson leans into you again, questioning what you’ve said. Turning to him, you smile and repeat, “Holy shit!”

“You’re okay?” he asked, gently putting a hand over your shoulder blade.

“I- I think so?” you said to him, raising your voice over the crowd that was only getting louder. Glancing down to your daughter who’s little fists were attempting to rip holes in your sweater, you send a look to Yoongi, and he stops walking all together. Bundled up in the safety of her mothers arms wasn’t enough for the baby, she needed to be out of this situation immediately. “Branson we have to go.”

“I don’t have the signal yet, we need Yoongi inside before we move forward,” he said. Frowning, you knew the man was just doing his job, but a cry from your daughter flipped a switch within you.

“We need to go,” you insisted, shooting him a glare. Cradling the back of her head, you press your masked lips to her hair and take a deep breath, hoping she’d feel as much of your love as possible.

“Go! Get him inside,” Branson spoke into the tiny walkie he carried on his chest, gesturing toward the door with persistence.

The crowd, now roaring, and growing larger, began to push. The barriers that were blocked by guards were spilling over the edge.

Branson placed a hand to the top of your shoulder and held onto you tight. Grabbing the little speaker, he spoke clearer. “We need to move forward, and we cannot do that if you cannot get him indoors.”

Up ahead your husband was watching you with a heated gaze. His attention didn’t deter from you once. His heart twisted when you cradled your daughter, when he saw Branson begin to get defensive. The hand that was placed protectively on your shoulder could make him scream, and the team behind him, calling after him to get him to step inside the airport made his thoughts fuzzy.

What the hell was he doing? Why would he ever allow the two of you, the most important people in his life, why would he allow you to do it alone? This was the very first time you’ve done this, and he’s realized now that he’s made the biggest mistake.

Forgetting everything he was told, everything he’s learned, Yoongi bounds toward you, using the fast paced walk that his fans clown him for. They absolutely lose their minds, the people around you.

Wide eyed and shocked, you’d never think he’d break the rules on this one, you sigh in relief when he reaches your side. An arm wraps around your shoulder, Yoongi closing you in front of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you asked, giving your head a small shake.

Your husband smiles, reaching up to pull his mask off of his face, removing yours as well.

“Not letting you do it alone,” he said to you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. As you could’ve guessed, the collective lost their minds.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you smiled up at him, laughing as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

“You two are always worth it,” he said. “Now, c’mon,” he stepped aside to hold you behind your back, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. Using his other hand he rubbed the baby’s back and gave her cheek a quick kiss, happy to find that once he joined you two she had calmed down. “Let’s go see Kookie.”

Her head shot right up with enormous dark eyes full of stars. “Koo-hee?!”

“Koo-hee!” Both you and Yoongi copy her tiny voice, making her giggle with the silly smiles you flash at her.

The world around you seemed to melt away the second you were in your husband's arms, like all of a sudden you had the strength to handle anything the world would have thrown at you. His grip around your body as he walked with you into the airport was enough to silence the crowd, and power your legs to get through the doors without an incident.

A mere twenty minutes later, the three of you were seated on the plane, your daughter snoozing soundly on her fathers chest while you scrolled through your phone, curious to see what the internet has had to say of your appearance already. Resting his head on your shoulder, Yoongi followed along, making a sweet comment at every single photo of you.

“Oh, that one is the best,” he said quietly, your Twitter scroll stopping on a picture of the three of you before you walked off. The big, genuine, happy smiles you and Yoongi wore were priceless as you grinned at your baby girl, one whose face didn’t make it into any photos- thank the good Lord that somebody believes in. “You should post that one.”

Giving him a sideways glance, you huff a gentle laugh. “To my Instagram? It’s just gone public, you want me to blow it up even more?”

Yoongi tips his chin up, flashing you pouty puppy dog eyes. “I just want them all to know you’re mine. Both of you. I want everyone to know I’m yours, and I always have been.” You gave his forehead a kiss.

“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll post it. Her face isn’t in any of these, so I can post as many as I want.”

Settling comfortably on your shoulder once again, Yoongi gave you caption advice for the post- an emoji that seemingly had nothing to do with the photo… But, you used it anyway. The angel emoji, with a halo and little wings.

“That one’s perfect,” he whispered, tapping on it for you.

“If you say so,” you smiled. Yoongi sat up a bit, carefully to not disturb his sleeping daughter. “You always pick the random ones.”

“Every single one I use means something,” Yoongi gazed at you fiercely. “That little guy,” he pointed to the angel, “That makes four of us.”

Your lips parted in surprise, unsure of what to say. That week in December devastated you both. Your stomach flips while you watch him study your face. The whirlwind life you live hasn’t given either of you proper time to process, or grieve.

“Baby,” he whispered, closing the space between you to touch his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to post it if you don’t want to.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your eyes welling with tears, you furrow your brows. “What did I do wrong,” escaped you in an exasperated gust of air. Yoongi shifted, wrapping an arm around your back.

“No,” he said, putting on his strong facade. “We don’t do that, we’ve talked about this. You know there wasn’t anything you did wrong. There wasn’t anything I did wrong. You heard the doctor say it, baby, multiple times. You gave him the perfect home, you’re healthy.” Yoongi paused to gauge where you were, praying that you were listening to him.

You respond after a few seconds, bobbing your head. Taking a deep breath, Yoongi swallows down the lump in his throat.

“It just wasn’t his time,” he whispered. “He wasn’t ready.”

“Yeah,” you whispered fast. Yoongi’s thumb found your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“And, you remember the last time we were there, they said we could try again whenever we were ready,” he said. The end of last month you had a check-up with your doctor, just to make sure things were back to normal, and that your body was holding up alright. Your second pregnancy was a surprise, much like the first, you and Yoongi haven’t seemed to learn your lesson. However, losing your son before you had even gotten the chance to hold him in your arms put a lot of things into perspective for the two of you.

There were routine check-ups, you were eating better- both of you! This second child was something that you and your husband both wanted, and though each of your emotions have been through the wringer… You would be willing to try again when you felt like you could handle it.

“I want to,” you whispered. Yoongi smiled, but you could see his own worries within it. “I know, I feel the same way.”

“Together,” he cuts off the nervousness quickly. “We’ll do it together.”

“Uh, we kinda have to,” you giggled, making him laugh.

“I can’t wait,” he sing-songed through clenched teeth with a grin, stealing a kiss from you. Yoongi backs away from you to check on your sleeping daughter who hasn’t made a peep. He was surprised she had let her eyes shut while she was beside the window, normally she’d be gazing out at the clouds passing by.

Picking your phone up off of your lap, you smile at the angel emoji and click post, letting the notifications flood in like wildfire. This was all brand new. You were allowed to make your Instagram public about a week ago, and since then you’ve reached four million followers, while you used to have forty-six. Silencing the notifications from the app, every photo you’ve ever posted amassed an incredible amount of likes. Your feed was a feast, and the public was hungry.

Four million followers and counting. The number was only going to get bigger.

Watching the photo gain twenty thousand likes whenever you refreshed the page, you nudged Yoongi’s shoulder to show him what was happening, and when he turned his head to look, an unknown number you’ve never seen before popped onto your screen, calling you.

“What the…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes.

Yoongi snatched the phone from your hand and quickly snapped a photo of the screen with his own, then he silenced yours and went into it, blocking the number who tried to reach you. He called Branson over and showed him the photo, letting the head of security take his phone with him.

“Trace this, or, do something. Tell me who's number this is,” his voice is stern, on alert.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you said, laying your head down on his shoulder. “People get scam calls all the time.”

“Not us,” he said, tone flat.

Not even ten minutes passed before Branson came back, kneeling on the row of chairs in front of your family. He placed his elbows on the head rests and took a deep breath, darting his eyes back and forth from Yoongi to yours.

“Well?” Yoongi asked. Branson handed him his phone and frowned.

“Uh,” he stumbled over a few words, unsure of how to say what he needed to say. “We, um… The phone number belongs to your mother.” His voice is hushed, quiet, like he was afraid to tell you, when in actuality he was afraid to tell Yoongi. Touchy subject. Especially now.

There had been a restraining order set in place since the day after your daughter's first birthday. Yoongi held the meetings and took care of everything, all you had to do was sign.

Neither one of your parents were allowed to contact you, speak to you or your daughter, or try to see you in person. They were not allowed to mail anything to you, send anyone to see you in place of themselves, nor were they allowed to be in touch with anyone close to you. Sunny included. You had to make a list.

Expecting him to jump out of his seat, you stretch a hand over his lap and grab his other hand, the one on your daughter's back. Sitting up, you turn toward him ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. It had not faltered. He was stone faced, and you were sick to your stomach.

“Sue her,” he said. Turning to you, he sighed. “We’re changing your number again.”

“D, come on, it’s not like-”

“I don’t care,” he said, peering down to admire his daughter. “She clearly hasn’t gotten the message that you don’t want anything to do with her.” He pointed his focus back to Branson. “Fight it. Do what you can.”

“Got it,” the guard said, and whisked himself away.

It’s quiet for a moment before Yoongi said, “Why are you defending her?”

“I’m not defending her,” you said, and he raised a brow, giving you a funny look. “It’s just… Super annoying to give everyone a new phone number for the third time.” Both your lips turn up into a smile. “Sue the bitch, I don’t care, D.” Yoongi laughs. “Just don’t make me change my number again, I beg of you.”

“Alright,” he said. “No new number. BUT!” His raised volume made your daughter stir. “One more thing happens, you’re changing it.” The little one lifted her head, blinking a few times before she grinned at her father.

“Fine,” you whispered, not that he was paying attention anymore anyway. Your daughter took his full focus, and all of his kisses.

It seemed silly to just now realize that today was something of a confirmation of the last eight years. Living your life, being a secret to millions of others, while you and the people you cared most about knew, was nice, and secure, and peaceful. But, now… Now that everyone knew, the peace grew. It swallowed you whole, engulfing you and your family with stability and ease.

No more accidental reveals. No more false stories. No more rumors the company had to shut down. No more hiding.

You were absolutely free, and for now, that was everything.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece!

feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.

leave me some here! <3

support my art here! <3

vegas tags <3 (i realize on the last post i missed some of you, i'm so sorry.) <3

@jewelrnicorn @yoongisducky @all-american-fangirl @funkylittlebisexuall @ahewlett @damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place

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wosoluver · 25 days

Text

You always know what to say and do.

Andrea Medina x reader

-> got this idea while watching her tiktok, where they're playing the marshmallow game, so if you want some good context to it, pls look it up. Once again this is fictional, and don't necessarily reflect the reality, although Andrea has been open about her ADHD and hyperactivity.

TW: angst, anxiety attack (sort of), mentions of hyperactivity and feelings of anxiety.

You and your girlfriend were almost never apart. You thrive in each-others presence. Always a safe place to joke around, talk, sing, cry or sometimes just sit around in comfortable silence. And by silence it actually meant you were relaxing quietly while Andrea walked around talking nonstop.

It never bothered her because she knew you were paying attention to her every move and words, and it made her feel like someone was actually listening to her. And you, you loved those moments more than anything. It didn't bother you either, to you, her voice was the most relaxing sound, you could listen to her jokes all day. You loved that despite knowing you had a way lower energy level, she could always still be one hundred percent herself, even if it meant enduring her hyperactive self. It was indeed very comforting having someone so opposite to you that yet complemented you perfectly deep down inside.

So when she called you up at 3 AM crying, your heart broke. It was hard enough being away from each other, when she was away with the sub 20 national team. This time they were away for a game against Germany, and the call was unexpected to say the least. Even though you would spend hours on facetime, she usually slept like a baby through the night, especially after training for hours. That's one of the only things that would really drain some energy out of her.

Andrea was the type of person to never break down in front of others, so when she called you in the middle of the night, you knew it was bad.

"What happened amor? Why are you crying?" - you asked desperately.

You could barely make up the words she was saying through the phone.

"Breathe okay? I'm here, cry all you need and then talk to me amor" -

It took around ten minutes for her cries to die down.

"Everyone hates me!" - "They think I am annoying and they don't want me around!" -

"Did someone say that to you?"-

She shook her head while she spoke - "No, but I know it, I can tell"-

"Baby, tell me what happened okay? Is Ornella with you?" -

"No, we're not sharing rooms this week." - I nodded to her, reassuring her to continue - "We were at Martina's room and I had an idea for a tiktok, you know the one marshmallow two marshmallow game?"

"Yes I saw you posted it earlier. But what happened?" -

"While we were filming, it felt like everyone was so annoyed at me, like they were tired and that I was taking up space you know? I know not a lot of people can deal with the way I am, but I don't know, I just thought we were all good friends, and that it would be fun..."-

"Cariño, I wish I could hold you right now." - you say sadly - "But we've talked about this. You can't live worrying if others might be bothered by it. It's who you are! You don't have to feel bad for the ones around you! I hate that you felt that way today, I just wish I could be there with you."

"I love the girls and I just sometimes forget how overbearing I can be. It's kind of hard, when I'm back home with you, Lola, Cris, Wifi and the team I don't even think about it, I don't worry. I forget how much support I have and I'm so thankful. And I love you amor. So much." -

By now you were tearing up. For the last year and a half, you've seen her through it all, and you knew her pain. You knew how hard it was for her to say it out loud, even more to anyone that was not the reflection in her mirror. She keeps her smile up even when she feels the saddest. Your guess was that she kept that fake smile and jokes, kept it up until she was finally alone in the hotel room. And then just exploded from her feelings. And you guessed it right.

She only decided to call you when she realized she couldn't calm down by herself. That was, after hours of crying.

"Was Ornella there?" - you ask already knowing the answer as she shook her head no. You knew if she was, this most likely wouldn't have happened.

"How about you take hot a shower? I'll stay on the call, and when you're done we can go to sleep?" - She easily gave in to your idea, knowing that's exactly what she needed right now, besides the cuddle that she wouldn't be getting till next monday.

After taking a rather quick shower not wanting to be away from the call too long, she put on the hoodie she brought along that smelled like you. The piece of clothing was her own, but it acquired the smell from how much you wore it around the apartment.

Laying back down on the bed and going under the covers, she focused once again on the phone screen.

"Better?" she only nodded quickly - "I love you, Andrea, so much. And I know that if Ornella was there you would've felt seen and safer. But you can't depend on having one of us by your side, to feel like you deserve to be who you are. I know Lola and I talk about it a lot, but it's true. You can't be careful around others at the expense of your own feelings. It's not healthy. They can remove themselves if they'd like. By now we know that some people don't have much patience unfortunately. They have no idea the gem they're missing on, my love." -

"Gracias bebé, for knowing what to say and do. I know I need to work on fighting these feelings off. And promise tomorrow I'll follow the drill and try to stay close to Ornella. Even though that's the opposite of what you just said." - seemly as on queue she let's out an yawn.

"Okay baby. I'll leave you to get some sleep then."

She immediately protested -"Please stay until one of us falls a sleep?" -

You couldn't say no to her.

Took a little bit of my own personal experience to write this one and hope it also helps anyone in need of some comfort and reassuring words. 🩷

Also my first time writing, so I'd love to hear your thoughts and advice. This feels like it needs some improvement.

#espwnt #woso #womens football #atletico madrid femenino #andrea medina #woso x reader #andrea medina x reader

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azznyra · 1 year

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Hi! My name is Nyra and this is my very first post ever! i’ve been a reader for years but i’ve never had the courage to write or post anything ever. i’m very scared to post this, but i’ll hope some people will come across this and like it. any and every feedback is highly appreciated. please be kind! also know that english isn’t my first language so forgive me for any mistakes! i hope you enjoy :))

Drunken night routine

here is my Azriel x reader fluff fic. TW : small mentions of anxiety but that’s it.

includes reader being drunk af with nesta and az being a fluffball with her as he gets her ready for bed!

You were trying your best to just concentrate long enough to winnow inside. Nesta blowing you ear off was not helping and you made sure to tell her "just keep quiet for a second and maybe we’ll get there". You had had the shittiest day and were just looking to unwind with one of your closest friend. You had both gone to this sweet little restaurant down the Sidra, enjoying each other’s company and a humongous amount of food. It started with a bottle of red wine, just to fuel yourselves for your gossiping session and now it promised you the biggest hungover for tomorrow.

After what seemed like a century, you managed to get you both up to the balcony attached to the big dining area. The floor-to-ceiling windows were opened, the curtains softly moving with the wind and all you could hear was Cassian’s deep chuckle.

You and Nesta were still holding onto each other when you looked up and saw the General approaching you, reaching his hand out for Nesta to take. He led you both inside and turned to you, taking you in "Rough night, y/n ?" your answering scowl was immediate "fuck off you’re just jealous Nesta likes me more". To take it even further, you leaned closer to your best friend and kissed her on the cheek, multiple times, while she was only grinning, her smile getting bigger and bigger by the second.

Cassian was halfway through with his comeback when your gaze landed on the second male in the room. Azriel was sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire, legs deliciously spread, nursing a glass of liquor in his left hand, his piercing gaze already set on you. He was dressed in casual clothes tonight, which didn’t fail to surprise you. In all the years you had known him, you didn’t think you had seen him like this more than four times. He looked so relaxed like this, you thought his lap looked inviting, it was almost beckoning you to sit there, perch yourself on his thigh. Hoping his arm would wrap around your waist, maybe tug your back against his chest. If you were lucky, maybe he’d even — you stopped your thoughts when you realized where your mind had wandered to. You let go of Nesta and took quick but wobbly steps towards the shadowsinger, calling out his name in the sweetest way you could manage.

He quickly put down his glass and got up to meet you half way, smirking. You knew a witty remark was already on its way but you could not care less. You were so intoxicated that you didn’t think twice about what you were doing and just launched yourself at him. Your arms went around his waist, tugging him closer to your body. You not only heard but felt him take in a sharp breath, his ribcage expanding beneath your arms.

You’d never dared to get this close to him while being sober. You knew he liked his privacy and was not always confortable with physical affection. You could see it behind his eyes, see his self-hatred eating him out, telling him that he wasn’t worthy of love. Every time it happened, you felt your own heart breaking, cleaving in two. For he was worth so much more that what he allowed himself, he was worth everything. If only he could see himself the way you saw him.

Azriel’s arms finally landed around your shoulders and you got a whiff of his smell. You could not help but inhale it once more, on purpose. You then looked up to him and said "You smell so heavenly right now, Az". You only grinned up at him, secretly relishing in the red that took over the apple of his cheeks. It was concerning how proud you were of making his usually stoic face blush so easily from only one compliment.

Az felt like he was dying. Maybe he was and that’s why he was imagining you clinging to him right now, looking up at him with the most delicious smile adorning your lips and a cunning gleam in your eyes. You looked so beautiful that his mind was blank for a minute, filled with nothing but thoughts of your perfect face. He took in your long, shiny brown hair, which was curled tonight. His favorite. He longed to run his finger through the silky strands, maybe wrap his fist around it if you’d let him. You had never gotten this close to him before and he was in such deep shit. You were so drunk out of your mind though, that’s why you were burying your face in his chest. He looked up and met Cassian’s eyes, his brother winking at him, while holding onto his mate, ready to take her to bed.

Right, your bed. He just had to make sure you arrived in one piece to your bed and then you’d sleep and he’d be freed of his desire for you. At least for tonight. "Alright, your night’s over, let’s go to bed, y/n"

You shook your head, you didn’t want to go to bed, your night had just gotten interesting now that you had Az all to yourself. He insisted, and, well, you couldn’t really deny him anything. So you agreed "Only if you help me though, I don’t think I can walk straight, Az".

Azriel smiled, and you realized he had let go of your shoulders, silently offering you his elbow to hold onto. He always did this, offered anything but his hands. You knew how he felt about them, could understand where he was coming from. However, you couldn’t stand to enable his thoughts by not touching his hands on purpose. Not tonight. You graciously ignored his elbow and slid your palm against his. Your hand was so cold, having spent the whole evening outside on a terrasse, while Azriel’s hand was so warm you wanted him to warm your whole body with it. You looked straight into his eyes, gauging his reaction. You could tell he was overthinking this, wondering if he was somehow tainting you with his scarred flesh. You had to reassure him that this was okay, that you didn’t mind and never would. Your brain was too fuzzy so you just asked him "Is this okay? I hope it is, I’ve always wanted to do this, actually". Azriel was still frozen, staring at you like he’d never seen you before, another bright blush taking place on his cheeks. He ended up nodding, so slightly you almost missed it. So you gave his hand a squeeze and he led you towards the big stairs.

He was quite literally dragging you by the hand at this point, taking such long strides that you almost couldn’t keep up. You both stoped in front of the stairs, and Az gave you a funny look and you just knew he was about to tease you before he even opened his mouth. "Sure you can take this, y/n ? I wouldn’t want you to fall on your face" He said, smirking as he talked. He looked so proud of himself, thinking he could tease you like this. So you answered him with the same malice in your voice "Well, maybe you should carry me, then. If you’re so worried about my face".

He didn’t even look taken aback, he looked proud, you thought. That must be the wine though, you tried to convince yourself. Then, all of a sudden, in a fraction of a second, his hand let go of yours, one arm went under yours knees while the other was around your waist. And here you were, nestled against Azriel’s chest, so comfortable in his arms. You tried not to give too much thought in how good this felt, how right. You felt like you were exactly right where you were supposed to be. You were feeling so courageous tonight, so much that, if anything went wrong, you’d blame it on the alcohol. That’s what pushed you to bring your face closer to his neck and brush your nose against his skin. Just once. Just to know what he smelled like so close, and it was so good that you did it again. Then you heard him let out a soft exhale, and another, a little more rugged this time, it seemed. And he whispered, voice so low you had to strain your Fae ears to hear, "you’re tickling me, y/n".

You were about to apologize, when you realized he had stopped walking and was standing in front of your bedroom door. You reached your hand out and turned the doorknob, allowing the male to enter your room. You were about to thank him for taking you here, when your brain registered that he had already walked farther than your bed and seemed to be heading towards your bathroom. He silently asked you to open this door as well, and then set you down on the counter on the left, right next to where all your beauty products were neatly organized.

It was overwhelming, his caring attitude, the fact that he was in your bathroom right now, looking so at ease amongst your things. It seemed so effortless, so natural for him to be there.

He turned back to look at you, and you wanted to ask him what this feeling was, why he was confusing your heart even more, but you only asked "what are you doing ?"

"Running you a hot bath", he simply answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world, as if he would ever do anything else. Then he added "get in and wash yourself, I’ll go get you some water while you’re in there".

So you did just that, trying very hard to concentrate on using the right soap, then you wet your hair and washed it as well. You had a whole routine to do tonight, but it was already so much effort just to wash it right now that you gave up. You’d regret this tomorrow but you were way too intoxicated to care.

Azriel was going mad. He was sure of it. He must be sick, there was no other explanation as to why he’d ever put himself in such a situation. All he had to do was put you on your bed and leave the damn room. Instead, he had selfishly wanted to hold you longer. He remembered it was the day you always washed your hair. You had been unable to do it once and then you’d been grumpy all day, so sensitive to everything you’d ended up crying when Cassian had eaten the last cookie from Elain’s batch. Nothing had been able to console you, even when the Seer had offered you to make another batch just for you. The shadowsinger remembered you telling him it was because your whole routine had been changed and you were so anxious.

So that’s what he told himself as he ran you the bath, it was so you wouldn’t miss your whole hair routing thing and be anxious tomorrow. Nothing to do with you way you were clinging to him, brushing your nose against his neck, pretending not to breathe him in. Multiple times.

Anyway, this would end soon because he was simply going to bring you a glass of water and leave you. He’d go to his room, lock the damn door and try to sleep this off. So this is what he did, he picked up the glass and headed upstairs again.

You had just finished rinsing your hair when you heard a knock. You allowed Azriel to step inside and saw him heading towards the counter, then pick up your towel and hold it in front of you. He wanted you to get out of the bath, you realized. His head was turned back, his eyes shut tight. He was behaving like the gentleman he was and your heart soared at the sight. He was so respectful and thoughtful but he never gave himself any credit for anything. It was painful, really.

You stepped out, willing your legs not to wobble and took the towel from his hands, wrapping it around yourself. You told him he could open his eyes now, and thanked him, for what felt like the millionth time tonight. It was then that he said words you’d have never thought would leave his mouth, "I’m surprised you’ve finished your whole hair routine so fast in your current state".

You stared at him, mouth open, probably gaping like a fish out of water.

"What?"

You must have misheard him because there was no way in hell he knew about this. It was not a secret that you were very particular about your hair, but it wasn’t something you talked about with Azriel, or Cassian or any of the males for that matter.

"Yeah, it’s today, right? I’m impressed really. If I remember well, it’s a pretty long process". He was smiling like a fool, somehow seeming proud of knowing this about you. Why would he be proud? This was so strange, you were starting to think you were dreaming up all of this.

"How do you even know about this ?"

"You’ve told me once. I’ve always wondered how your hair looked so nice and you spent almost thirty minutes explaining all of the steps and how long you had to wait in-between". Now you were sure he looked proud. And you were sure you still looked like a fish out of water. Your mind was so blank. "I haven’t done it actually", you blabbered.

"Well, I can help you if you want. I know you get cranky when you miss your routine".

He looked so eager, and he was right, you did get cranky when you missed something in your routine. It also wouldn’t hurt to feel him run his fingers through your hair, and massage your scalp. So he did, so gently, as if he was afraid to hurt you. It was so relaxing that you wanted to fall asleep to this every night. It took him a bit longer than you normally would, but he was thorough in his ministrations you could never tease him. You closed your eyes halfway, only opening them again when he nudged your shoulder with his, hazel eyes softly looking into yours through the mirror.

"There, all done.".

"Thank you so much, Az. You’re so precious"

He smiled, and it was so breathtaking you almost fell to yours knees before him. "You should go to bed now, you’re all ready", he added after a moment. You turned around, so close that your chests were almost brushing. So close that you could reach out your hand and touch his raven black hair with the tips of your fingers. So close that you could stand on the tip of your toes and kiss his lips. You nodded, remembering he had said something, and he took a step back, allowing you to step back into your bedroom. Right, your bed. He must have told you to sleep. This was what he was here for, after all.

You were about to fall in your bed, yes fall, when you heard the beautiful male behind you chuckle. "You’re going to suffer tomorrow, drink some tea for hungover before you arrive to training"

You sat on the bed, facing him and looked up to his handsome face. You were so busy studying his features that you almost forgot to answer him. "Just take it easy on me tomorrow and I’ll be fine, yes?"

Another deep laugh came out of him. He was so carefree tonight you felt blessed to be able to witness him like this. The mighty Spymaster of the Night Court, so casually laughing in your bedroom. "No, I will not, you and Nesta need to learn the hard way that you do not get drunk the night before training"

Your answering whine made him crack another smile, "But we train every morning, Az"

"I don’t see how that’s my problem". He had the audacity to look smug. The male was taking such pleasure in your misery it would have been insulting were it anyone else.

"I hate you" you said. You could not have uttered a bigger lie. There was nothing but pure adoration for him in your heart, but you could not tell him that. Would never find the courage. You could barely stand this half sort of flirting, let alone pour out your feelings to him while he cringes and lets down gently.

"We both know you love me" He was taking this too far right now, but he didn’t find it in himself to care. He knew nothing about your feelings, only hoped. Yes, sometimes he would catch you looking at him at training, or looking for him whenever you stepped in a room. He would sometimes hear his shadows say that you were staring at him, a longing look in your eyes, but he never let himself believe them. They liked you too much, always trying to be close to you. They were not objective at all.

You blushed, hoping this conversation would not go somewhere you couldn’t handle. You surely couldn’t handle this right now. So you kept this little verbal sparring you two had going on and said "you wish".

Az’s face dimmed a little, it was so subtle you could have imagined it. Probably had, honestly, with your inebriated state right now. You could swear, however, that you heard him agree. It was such a small murmur but you could’ve sworn you heard him say yes.

Azriel bid you goodnight, so sweetly and left you to sleep.

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #feysand #rhys and feyre

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starlostastronaut · 4 months

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DAY 18 | IN THIS WORLD

PAIRING: lee felix x reader

GENRE: fluff

WC: 0.96k

CW: nothing

PROMPT: cuddling session

sleepy fluff with lixie coming your way! this is the last one for today bc i do need to actually sleep lol (tho its after midnight rn so first post of today technically?). this is just very soft and fluff, no real plot happening here. enjoy reading <3

title from as it was - harry styles

general masterlist here

<< previous | mctc masterlist | next >>

When you came home from work, the only thing on your mind was going to bed. Your shift ran later than expected due to some problems that needed to be fixed, and by the time you were finally allowed to head home, you were completely exhausted. You went through routine tasks such as putting away your keys and hanging your coat almost blindly, not wanting to be bothered to turn on the lights. However, it wasn't really dark in the apartment, as you soon realized. And there was sound coming from the living room.

Carefully, you walked to the source of the light and noise, all your tiredness replaced by caution, because what if that was an intruder? Your anxiety was soon alleviated by the fact that the sound was from your TV. What burglar would watch a movie, right? As you peaked inside the living room, you saw someone you would never expect here at this hour.

Lee Felix was sprawled over your couch, a half-empty bowl of popcorn laying next to him, and on the TV was playing a rerun of some comedy show. You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. When you gave him the key, it was so he could come meet you when he had time, because dating an idol was a time management nightmare. But now it seemed Felix used it to run away from the dorm and help himself to whichever snacks and entertainment your apartment provided.

He must have heard you, because he raised his head and waved at you to greet you. It was pointless to hide halfway in the hallway, so you headed to him. Felix immediately scooted over, making room for you on the couch.

As soon as you sat down, his arms enveloped you in a hug, with Felix pressing his nose into your hair and inhaling the familiar scent. You felt the faint touches of his lips soon, as well as the exhaustion creeping its way back into your body. You let yourself melt further into his arms, your body going completely limp against his. He answered with a content hum and a stronger hold on you. Felix adjusted his position slightly, so you would be more comfortable laying down.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have an early schedule tomorrow?” you asked sleepily. Almost immediately after relaxing in the hug, you wanted to sleep. Felix was just a very comfortable and warm pillow that made you feel secure and loved. And paired with how tired you felt, it was the perfect recipe for a quick journey to dreamland. But you didn't want to sleep yet, not with Felix here.

Lately, you haven't seen him much, given how busy his schedule was towards the end of the year. A few times you woke up to Felix lying in bed with you, only to have a rushed breakfast because you both needed to work. But now that he was here, none of you were unconscious, and you were determined to make the most of it.

“I do, but I missed you,” Felix said. His head found its place on your shoulder, and he was now lazily mouthing at a spot on your neck. There wasn't anything sexual behind it; he just liked feeling close to you. It was a way for Felix to show you how much he loved you. “I wanted to come see you. It's been so long since we had time for each other,” he confessed with a sad undertone in his voice. You didn’t say anything, but he knew you felt the same. You missed him too, but it didn't need to be said out loud. Felix knew.

You snuggled further into his chest. "Well, now you're here, and I'm not letting you go anywhere,” you decided. Your gaze fell on the TV. Much to your dismay, you had to untangle yourself from him in order to get the remote. Your action was met with a soft whine from Felix, soon replaced by a happy sigh as you settled yourself back into his arms, now in possession of the remote. You lazily switched through the channels until you found a half-decent movie to watch. It was the most passable compensation for the fact that you both should be in bed and sleeping. Staying on the couch and slowly dozing off when the movie became boring was just another way of resting together, you thought.

When you woke up in the morning, it was to Felix's alarm that was blasting through the apartment at a volume that, in your opinion, not even an emergency siren would. Startled and confused, you opened your eyes to find yourself in the living room, with a certain idol wrapped around like a koala. How you managed not to fall off the couch while you slept was beyond your understanding. Some higher being probably decided to take mercy on you.

“Lix, baby, wake up.” You gently nudged him, but all you got was a groan in response and Felix pressing himself even closer to you. With a laugh, you tried again, and eventually you managed to get him awake enough to function like a normal human being.

While you were in the kitchen preparing breakfast a few minutes later, Felix came to join you, already changed into new clothes and ready for the day. He hugged you from behind, just like last night, still not quite ready to give up the peaceful atmosphere. With a smile on your face, you let Felix hang off of you as you prepared the food. These stolen moments were all you had for now, but a break in his schedule was coming, which meant moments like these were only going to get more frequent.

taglist: @stayconnecteed @saintriots @vivioluh @ivaneedssleep @jazziwritesthings @darkypooo

#moony's countdown to christmas #mctc #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix #fluff

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neuvillettes · 4 months

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catch me | c. nakahara

summary | a long dance is finally broken at the peak of new year’s

pairing | chuuya x fem!reader

warnings | swearing, implied violence, reader with a bit of a description (hair long enough to put into an updo), mildly edited

wc | 1.5k

a/n | happy new year lovies! <3 long time no post? i’m so excited to share my first bsd piece with you all <3

it’s been precisely 319 days since you joined the port mafia. being here, on a giant yacht with hundreds of people from the same organization, bringing in the new year was a foreign feeling. you’d never imagine in your wildest dreams you would find yourself surrounded by so many people. a year ago you were on your own like you’d always been, if someone had told you back then you would find yourself in a position where people counted on you, you would stare at them as if they’d grown a second head.

it’s been a long night. you weren’t nearly as drunk as some of the lower level subordinates. something like this was rare for them though. you suppose they were taking advantage of the opportunity and making the most of it. you chuckle to yourself from where you’re stood, leaning against the railing, completely content with watching from afar on your own. or so you thought, until you catch the top of a familiar black hat.

chuuya nakahara. he’s somewhat of an enigma to you. he’s surprisingly warm and kind for someone who has taken out organizations with his very own hands. naturally he was hesitant of you at first. he didn’t care for change or new things, but his tune quickly changed when you were assigned a mission and easily held your own weight. chuuya nakahara is not easily impressed, yet you made it look so easy. he had caught your eye the second he stormed into mori’s office, making a big fuss about taking someone into his elite team that hadn’t paid their dues.

his presence alone was almost enough to have you kicking off the railing and joining in the festivities. almost. your whole body was screaming at you to move towards him, it was as if an invisible rope was tugging you. your whole body twitched and stood on edge but you firmly stayed put. your mind, however, couldn’t handle the anxiety of being around so many people. so you continue to watch the redhead from afar.

he seemed to be scanning the crowd for something- or rather- someone. you bring up the champagne flute you’ve been holding to your lips the very same moment his sapphire irises land on you. as much as you were hoping to avoid it, your eyes connect and you’re left with having to nod your head at him in acknowledgment before finishing off your drink. you break eye contact and place the empty glass on a nearby table.

you turn around to watch the sea, unaware of chuuya’s lingering gaze. he’s calculating, wondering just how much he could get away with tonight. he scowls at himself for acting so pathetic and mumbles under his breath, “fuck it.”

chuuya excuses himself from whatever conversation was happening between kouyo and hirotsu. he makes a beeline for you, snatching a very expensive champagne bottle on his way over to you.

he’s always been light on his feet but your trained ears hear him approaching from several feet away. without turning around you chuckle, “can’t imagine kouyo was too pleased with you just walking away from her mid sentence like that.”

the executive cracks a small grin and chuckles. “i’ll apologize to her later. there were more pressing matters at hand.”

you furrow your brow and finally look over your shoulder to him. what you’re met with steals the very breath from your lungs. the lighting from the string lights form a halo behind chuuya and the moonlight casts a glowing shadow to his features. chuuya nakahara may be the most beautiful man you have ever seen, you could actually cry.

in the same moment, chuuya is also having his very own internal panic. you had been a shadow until now. in this proximity he could finally get a good look at you. your silky golden dress cascades down your body perfectly. the open back left no room for imagination, he could see every curve, every divot, every scar. your hair was perfectly done up in a messy curled updo. the gold earrings dangling from your ears glimmered much like the moonlight reflecting off your eyes. you were stunningly beautiful, chuuya couldn’t find it in himself to use his voice, almost as if it was stuck in his throat.

coming out of your reverie you notice the redheads pause, so you fully turn around, clearly confused by chuuya’s silence. with your new vantage point you finally notice the bottle and empty glass in his left hand. you offer him a knowing smile and reach over for the previously discarded flute. you hold it up and keep the smile on your lips. “care to top me off?”

chuuya comes out of it too and silently nods while taking your glass. your fingers graze his gloved ones and you can feel his warmth even through the thicker material. his brows furrow and instead of pouring you a glass he sets everything down and removes his jacket from his shoulders. in one swift movement he places that jacket onto your shoulders instead.

as he picks your glass and the bottle back up he clicks his tongue. “i could feel how cold you were. why didn’t you wear something warmer? or at least a damn jacket?”

he hands you the, now full, champagne flute. you hum in gratitude and take a sip before answering him. you’re a little preoccupied by appreciating his scent wafting over you from the article of clothing. the jacket also still held some of his body heat which makes you instinctively try to bury yourself further into it.

“would you believe me if i said the alcohol was keeping me warm?” you tilt your brow slyly and can’t help but let a playful grin pull at the corners of your lips.

chuuya rolls his eyes and pours himself a glass of champagne. “no, as a matter of fact? i’d call bullshit.”

“how is it that you’ve always been able to see right through me? i have to give you props, mr. executive, you’re the only one that’s been able to do it.” you take another generous sip of your champagne and you’re finally no longer to tell if your legs are unsteady from the yacht or from the alcohol.

the redhead clicks his tongue and eyes you. he seems to think his next words carefully. “i guess i’ve always been extra observant when it comes to you.”

he says it so nonchalantly, you almost miss the implications of his words. you let it settle in your mind for a moment. chuuya sips at his drink nervously — his mind running wild as he watches your reaction, or lack thereof.

shit. did he make a mistake just now? should he have just kept his damn mouth shut?

the executive is about to cover his ass but then you speak. “thank you. i appreciate you looking out for me…i’ve never…had that before.”

chuuya’s eyes widen as he looks to you in obvious shock. your arms are crossed over your body as if shielding yourself. you felt vulnerable uttering those words. as if avoiding the feeling, your face is turned to the side as you stare out into the ocean. it was still clear to him why you were avoiding eye contact.

here you two were dancing the same dance you have been for months now. it’s gotten to the point where everyone with eyes can see that there’s something going on. hell, even akutagawa has said something to chuuya about it in passing.

chuuya wants to say more but suddenly everyone is loudly counting down from 10. you look back to the redhead and hold up your glass. wordlessly, he holds his up to yours and lightly clinks the crystal to your own. you raise yours a little more before almost whispering. “happy new year, chuuya nakahara.”

you tilt your head back and finish off the rest of your champagne.

chuuya follows suit. although he thinks he may have lost his mind along the way. because after chugging what was left of his own drink, in the next instant he’s closing the distance between you two. his empty hand reaches up to grasp the back of your head and then he’s desperately crashing his lips into yours. it all happens so fast he doesn’t let his own brain catch up.

you're completely taken off guard. the crystal that was securely in your hand, loudly crashes to the ground out of pure shock. however, it only takes you a split second to react. before you even comprehend what’s happening, your hands fly up to chuuya’s collar to bring him in closer and just like that you’re kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. you both seem to melt into the kiss.

as much as he doesn’t want to, chuuya pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. your breath mixes with his in the most intoxicating way. you keep your eyes close, drinking in this perfect moment. you hum in appreciation as chuuya tenderly caresses the side of your face and finally whispers back, “happy new year, doll.”

taglist | @erikatsu | @dosteovskys |

#chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bsd #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya one shot #bsd chuuya #chuuya bsd #fem!reader

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gmbencompetence · 2 years

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Arcana Fans,

Can we talk about the Tarot Decks? The Arcana Tarot Decks. I’m proud of them. It also ends in a painful memory. They are, all in all, the high and low of my time at Nix Hydra

In short: I’m one of the main people that made Arcana Tarot Decks a reality.

My job was answering emails, monitoring the Arcana social media tags, and generally having my finger on the pulse of the community. I knew that, by a wide margin, Tarot Decks were the biggest request. My coworker (who shall remain nameless for their privacy) was part of the team that made the Arcana and knew how much Tarot resonated with fans. This co-worker and I fought for about 1-1.5 years getting them greenlit.

In all honesty, they were a completely audacious idea. Nix Hydra didn’t make much money from merchandise. Maybe $100 a month. The cost of an *initial* run of Arcana Tarot Decks would take something like $25,000 to get going. This is because of creating the art, securing people to help package/ship them, actual costs of packaging/shipping itself, and more. Also, my partner on the project was very insistent that we work with a company that produced them at an extremely high quality with gold trim edges. Gold trim edges was important (they were right).

So, the Nix Hydra merch store made less than $200 a month, and my coworker and I were trying to pitch something that would COST $25,000~ to get started. If it made $25,000 back, that’s still a waste of time because it means we would have made the same money just skipping the whole thing.

This next part is fuzzy, but if I remember right, we tested the waters with stickers. We stocked Arcana stickers to see how quickly they sold. They sold fast. Like… fast. This was good. It was our test case to at least prove that “People want Arcana Merch”. It heated the iron, and my coworker and I struck. We got the approval!

So here’s the most nerve wracking moment of my career here. I’ve been in the game industry 12 years, but I’ve never run a merchandise store Nix Hydra. Even after that, I sent out a few sticker sheets every month. Forget about convincing a company to invest $25,000~ into my mad idea. And then… if they DID sell. What, then!? I always have a lot of anxiety, and I kept thinking of ways it could go wrong. What if I broke some international shipping law? What if I did the math wrong and operated at a loss? What if the site charged people the wrong amount? I KNEW the Tarot Decks would sell, but that was scary, too!

The day came that we flipped the switch. I was so excited. I was so excited! I was so… scared. At this point, all that was left was to see if we could make above the starting amount…

We made about $200,000 in the first 24 hours. Now, this was 3-4 years ago, so I may be SIGNIFICANTLY off. But my point is that we made six digits very quickly. By this same time tomorrow, this went from “Gunpowder and Coworker’s brassy, sassy idea” to “Merch is a hit! What’s next?”

Over the next few months and weeks, we had a joyful hectic hell of the best anxiety. Problems would come up. We’d knock them down. We’d run out of storage space in the office and it would look almost comical. We’d have truckloads of shipment issues. I soon found out that simply taking the packages to the post office was its own complicated project. All of this expanded into hiring people to help with merch. These people were extremely passionate about The Arcana and began to be advocates for what merch to add next. I could gush about how amazing they are for hours, but for privacy’s sake, I’m refraining from saying much about my coworkers.

So like that, we went from “Merch doesn’t sell” to “We need a merch department” in a few months. By the time I left the company, the CEO (you’ve seen his name around) projected the Merch alone to be a $1M a year revenue stream. I don’t know if we ever hit that goal. My point was that he felt it was possible, which made me happy.

… which brings me to how the story ends painfully. I have moderate ADHD. I personally think it’s severe, but my doctor says moderate, so hey. I tend to fall behind on assignments a lot. I also tend to get distracted super easily. It can ruffle feathers in a work environment. I did not realize how much. See, this project was in full swing, my work was going well, and I had also designed all the gameplay of Heart Hunter (that was me! I’ll write a post on that later). I felt good about all of this. I had a meeting with the CEO and was going to ask him for a raise.

“[Name], just so you know, I sometimes sit and my desk and go over the pros and cons of letting you go.” He said it conversationally. It was casual to him. My stomach fell out. I asked him why, and it turned out that he was being very, very literal.

See, he made a pros and cons list of every thing he likes about me and every thing that he doesn’t. I’ll spare you the whole list, but in the Cons side was “Doesn’t focus on work all 8 hours of the day”. I was flabbergasted and told him “But… I do a lot of projects. And YOU said the merch store is estimated at $1M a year!” At this point, it is extremely important to note that nothing about the merch store was in my job description besides “Ship stickers and answer emails”. Literally everything I mentioned above were things I did in my spare time without being asked. Out of love for the company.

“Yes, I agree that you’re very passionate and creative. See, I put that on the list!”

He points to the Pros and Cons list. “passionate and creative” is cancelled out by “doesn’t focus all 8 hours of the day”. It was a tie. The project I co-led started a whole new department and seven-digit (estimated) revenue… it wasn’t even the only one I did (Heart Hunter was also a side project, albeit one I was assigned). And all of that, in his mind, was cancelled out by “doesn’t work all 8 hours a day”.

I never got a raise. I never got a bonus. I never even got job security. None of it mattered to him.

I started looking for a job the next day.

—-

There’s more to the story, but I think this is the main point. This is the best and worst of Nix Hydra. It was a place where people like my coworker and I would make extra time to work on new things simply because we believed in our work that much. Where players joyfully supported our work because it resonated with them. Where new employees would be so passionate about their work that they would keep an entire department afloat on their own fantastic ideas. It was also a place where none of this could even amount to job security or recognition. It was frustrating, and it was joyful.

I meant every single smile at a public event. So did every member of the team that was there. It was never “just PR”; it was people who were over the moon to get to help create these stories and worlds and moments. We loved it. But management never loved us back. And that stung.

Thank you, every single person who posted their tarot decks. Who put them into your cosplays. Who did readings.

Thank you everyone who posted your Heart Hunter moments. Who shared the postcards I fought tooth and nail to see in the game (It was SO difficult to convince some people that “postcards would be the type of reward players want”).

My entire life, I’ve had joyful moments in games and game communities. My lifelong dream was to help make those moments come alive for others. When you all celebrated this game and those aspects of it, that was very genuinely a lifelong dream come true.

Thank you for reading this. And also The Arcana.

#arcana #the arcana #nix Hydra

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rainywritesx · 1 year

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Meeting Stray Kids

Synopsis: You’re Bang Chan’s girlfriend, and he has been wanting you to meet the rest of Stray Kids for a while. Today finally was the day, and to say you were nervous was probably an understatement

I wasn’t completely sure if I wanted to post this because I’m not very confident in my writing, but I’m finally able to get over my anxiety and do it, ehe ^^, hope you like it!

Warnings/things important to mention: Reader is implied to be a woman & non-Korean, some mention of a loss of appetite.

If you enjoyed this and would like to send me a request, please make sure to read my rules post beforehand <3 Enjoy!

Word count: 1.8K

“Love, I can practically see your mind running all over the place.” Chan laughed as he watched me nervously fiddle with my hands while I looked out of the car window. A soft sigh escaped my mouth as I looked at him with a clearly worried look. His smile fell a little as his gaze softened.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine.” He said while grabbing my hand and squeezing it softly. “The members are absolutely going to love you, I just know it.” I heard a hint of excitement in his voice that almost made me feel bad for being so anxious about meeting the rest of Stray Kids. Then again, how could I not be nervous?

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “What if I accidentally leave a horrible first impression?”

“That’s not going to happen, and even if that were to happen, they know better than to judge you solely off of the first meeting. ” That probably would have calmed me down if my brain hadn’t decided to worry about yet another thing.

“Oh my god, what if I mess up the honorifics in Korean? Minho and Changbin are the only members who are older than me, right?” My hand made its way to my face, and before I knew it, I was slightly picking at my skin. “Gosh, I’ve been learning Korean for three years but what if I speak to them informally by accident? I’d never be able to recover from that!”

“Come on, they’ll understand, it’s not that big of a problem, darling.” Chan said as he gently let go of my hand he was holding and grabbed my other hand to remove it from my face. “You don’t even want to know the things Felix said to the members by accident when he was still learning Korean.” He giggled while shaking his head.

Our conversation was interrupted by the car coming to a halt. Chan looked out the window and then turned back to me.

“We’re here! Let's go!” The two of us got out of the car, and Chan reached for my hand as soon as we started walking towards the JYPE building after thanking his manager for dropping us off. I had visited this building a couple of times before; there were a few occasions where Chan wanted to hang out in his studio or show me something, but that was usually when the other members weren’t around, hence why I hadn’t met them yet when I was there.

“I think the members are in the cafeteria since they usually have lunch around this time, are you hungry sweetie?” I shook my head. I probably should be hungry since I had a small breakfast, but my nerves were causing my appetite to be nearly gone. Chan seemed to immediately understand the cause of my lack of hunger, which I couldn’t be more grateful for.

“How about we share a plate of food? You don’t have to eat all of it, but in case you get hungry you can just take some of it.” I nodded in agreement.

We were getting closer to the cafeteria, and as we did so, I heard multiple voices, presumably the members, that were getting louder. Chan chuckled to himself upon hearing his members being rowdy.

“Wait, do they know I’m visiting today?” Chan looked away innocently, shrugging while trying to hide his laughter, but failing.

“Nope.” He giggled, causing my eyes to widen. I couldn’t say anything else, however, because we were now standing in the doorway to the cafeteria, which gave me no ability to hide. I noticed some of the members sitting at a table, while the rest were still grabbing their food.

“Hey!” Chan said, and everyone turned to our direction. I held my breath for a moment, not sure who to look at. Having seven pairs of eyes on you is definitely a nerve-wracking experience.

“Oh, we’ve got company!” Felix, who seemed to recognize me immediately, said. The two of us made eye contact and I smiled shyly. Felix accidentally interrupted Chan and I once when the two of us were calling, and he really wanted to say hi. Our conversation was short at the time, but I could already tell that he was really sweet.

“Wait, is this Y/N?” Hyunjin gasped. He didn’t wait for a response, and instead added “Hyung, you should have told us she was visiting!”

“Nah, this seemed more fun, and I think I was right.” Chan said with a small chuckle, enjoying everyone’s surprised reactions.

“Well hey, don’t just stand there, I’m sure she’s hungry!” Changbin said. Now that he mentioned it, maybe it was the smell of freshly baked bread that filled the cafeteria, but I was now finally starting to feel hungry.

“We’ll get our food real quick and then you guys can talk to each other, is that okay?” Everyone agreed and Chan and I quickly went to get something to eat.

“I’m paying.” He said before ordering for the both of us, not giving me a chance to protest in any way. I held back a sigh and simply rolled my eyes, knowing that debating him on this would be impossible. After he was done paying and we took our food, we made our way to the table where everyone was sitting now.

“You don’t have to pay for me every single time that we eat somewhere.” I said, pouting slightly while we walked. On one hand I couldn’t deny that it made my heart flutter anytime Chan offered to pay for our food, but I felt bad since he was doing it so often. He could afford it, but it sometimes made me worry I wasn’t doing enough to repay him.

“I know, but I want to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be offering to do it, right?” I guess you couldn’t argue with that…

“Hyung, there’s two free seats over there.” Felix said as he gestured toward…. The middle of the table. My eyes widened slightly and I could feel heat rise to my cheeks. Chan and I would be sitting across each other, and we would essentially be surrounded by the other members. Although they seemed nice, I couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Chan didn’t seem to notice though, as he was looking at Felix, and he just nodded as he gestured for me to go to the chair between Felix and Changbin. Chan held his plate of food with one hand and pushed my chair for me so I could sit down, and immediately the others’ teasing began. He had already warned me about this beforehand, so I wasn’t completely surprised. It was slightly amusing to witness, to be honest.

“Woowww it seems our hyung has great manners after all!” Jisung said in an exaggerated tone.

“He learned it from me, obviously,” Changbin smirked, causing me to chuckle as I sat down. Chan shook his head and made his way over to his own seat.

“Well everyone, this is Y/N, Y/N, these are the members. You’ve met Felix before,” I smiled politely at Felix, who smiled back.

“Hi Y/N! It’s so amazing to finally meet you in real life!” Felix said happily.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” I replied as my hand subconsciously made its way to my hair to play with it, feeling a bit shy.

“Oooo, your Korean is good!” Hyunjin said. “How long have you lived here?”

“She said a single sentence.” A voice whom I assumed to be Minho commented, earning an eye roll from the other member.

“Moving on,” Chan said, ignoring the two which made me stifle a giggle. “The guy sitting on your other side is Changbin, that’s Minho, Jisung, Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Seungmin.” I smiled and lightly bowed at each member, trying my hardest to at least appear calm and composed

“Sooo, Y/N, how old are you?” Hyunjin asked curiously.

“Hey, where are your manners! Never ask a lady her age!” Jisung interrupted him.

“You’re one to talk about manners!” The other member retorted immediately. Chan looked at me and sighed, shaking his head, and I couldn’t help but quietly giggle. This was going to be interesting.

—————————————————————————————

“…And we had to attend ISAC the next day too! Chan hyung couldn’t stop complaining to us about his stomachache during the entire thing.” Hyunjin laughed, causing me to giggle as I covered my mouth.

Surprisingly, the afternoon had been going way more smoothly than I expected. The members’ easygoing attitudes definitely helped, they were polite of course but also made sure to joke around, so I didn’t feel as stiff. Although they did ask me questions, especially ones about Chan and my relationship that he never answered, it wasn’t overwhelming at all.

I was awoken from my thoughts at the sight of Chan walking towards my direction.“Sweetie, I’m sorry to interrupt, but don’t you have a shift at 3?” My eyes widened.

Shit.

I looked at my phone and then noticed it was 2:45 already. Gosh, my boss was going to kill me…

“It’s fine, I can drop you off so you can make it in time.” I sighed in relief.

“Thanks Channie.”

“I’ll go get the car, I’ll see you in a bit yeah?” I nodded and he then left. My gaze went back to Hyunjin, who had a small pout on his face.

“I haven’t even shown you any of my art yet!”

“I’m really sorry, but I can’t exactly miss my shift… Show them next time I visit! I still want to see them, Chan has told me about how beautiful your work is.” A shy smile covered Hyunjin’s lips as he nodded. I got up and grabbed my purse. Before leaving, I made sure to say goodbye to everyone, even receiving a hug from Felix, with whom I couldn’t stop talking during lunch.

“You should visit again soon, we may be busy at times but you’re always welcome to join us! Though, I’m sure Chan hyung knows that too.” I smiled and nodded.

“It was really lovely to meet you all! I was kinda worried that I was going to mess up or something, but everyone has been really nice.” Felix nodded.

“Mhm, except for when you almost cursed at Minho when you tried to compliment his shoes.” I covered my face in embarrassment, earning a giggle from him. Thankfully it was only Minho and Felix who had witnessed that, I think I would’ve died on the spot if the entire group heard it. Still, it was embarrassing.

“Please don’t remind me!! I knew I was going to mess up my Korean at some point.”

“Nah it’s all good, I think he knew what you were trying to say.” He giggled. The two of us were interrupted by a car honking, which was probably Chan waiting for me.

“Okay, I really gotta go now, byee!” I said before leaving the building, feeling a lot more relaxed compared to when I arrived here.

Hm, I guess it didn’t go that badly after all.

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #kpop #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x female reader #bang chan fluff #stray kids x y/n #bang chan fic

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convolutedblasphemy · 2 months

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Since it's Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week I want to thank the aro community for everything they taught me and everything they did for me even before I started to identify as frayromantic. I had so much amatonormativity to unlearn before I could arrive at this point, so this is my first aro week, but identifying as ace for years, I inevitably met a lot of aros online and saw a lot of aro positivity posts.

Truth be told, from age 14 - 19 I suffered a period of debilitating, very traumatizing emotional abuse that killed my entire social life and my abuser would make sure i couldn't form these bonds when i wanted to. As soon as I got out of that -> covid lockdown. When the pandemic restrictions were lifted I've spent 7 years at that point pretty much socially isolated aside from online contacts. And in the past 3 years I've been busy healing, studying, adulting and picking up the pieces.

It's been almost a decade now in which I didn't have a stable social life (aside from my relatives) and everyone else has always looked at me with this... weird pity for it. I had a lot of anxiety due to being ace as well; because i didn't feel like i could find that close committed relationship i wanted without engaging in sexual activity. People imagined the past decade in my life as me sitting on the couch all day wallowing in self-pity and loneliness, which honestly does such a disservice to all the places I visited, the ways in which i've grown, the art i made and the changes i made. People treated me like I had wasted 10 years of my life and constantly put pressure on me to be more social, to put myself into situations i wasn't comfortable with or to at least get a partner so I won't have to die alone. Dying alone was this terrible horror concept that was pushed onto me as my inevitable fate if i didn't get my shit together. And for the longest time I believed that. I hardly struggled with loneliness, I struggled with this internalized idea that I had failed at life - that i am a failure - if i don't have this many irl friends or a partner.

The aro community was THE FIRST SPACE that helped me dismantle this perspective of seeing the relationships in my life as an extension of myself. The first space that taught me that relationships of any kind aren't these things i have to collect to prove I've led a successful life. The first community that turned around and said "You are whole as you are. You are enough. And you don't need anyone else to complete you." And hearing that, to me, was such a wake-up call; it was such a novelty-realization in contrast to all the bullshit i had internalized, that I cried because damn, this was what I needed to hear.

Suddenly the value of my life wasn't defined by the kind of relationships and how many relationships I filled it with. Suddenly I realized that the committed relationship I wanted didn't have to be romantic (or sexual for that matter); hell, I didn't even want it to be. Suddenly I realized the biggest obstacle to enjoying life for me was all the people who told me i wasn't enjoying my life properly. The aro community taught me so much about love, self-worth and independence. And I haven't been active here for long but everyone has been so kind.

The aro community gave me all the hope and positivity that i needed to focus on myself and my life. I still want to form meaningful irl friendships and get a QPR in the future but the pressure is gone to get all of that asap or else my time on this earth is wasted. I have faith that these things will come when I'm ready and when it's the right time and even if they don't, it's not going to be the end of the world. My value as a person and the success of my life is not defined by the people in it and it never will be. Nor will yours. Nor will anyone's.

Some of y'all might be out here asking yourselves "I'm not aro, what does the aromantic community concern me?" So much. Amatonormativity and relationship hierarchy go so much deeper than just the assumption that everyone desires romantic love. The aromantic community can teach us so much and help us unlearn so many things that are ingrained into our system and into our way of thinking. We should be unlearning those things because doing so will take pressure away from all of us, no matter how we identify. The aromantic community should concern you because they're people with their own hopes and dreams who deserve to find happiness in whatever way feels right for them without the world constantly telling them they're doing it wrong.

The aromantic community has made me a more understanding, hopeful, positive and independent person and I can't thank them enough for that. Happy Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week.

🧡💛🤍🩵💙

#aromantic #aroace #aromantic spectrum #aro week #frayromantic #aromantism #aro #aromantic community

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anxious-witch · 4 months

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What a year, huh? We all know I have to be emotional on tumblr.com whenever the opportunity arises because that's one way I allow myself to have an emotional catharsis (for legal reasons this a joke)

In all seriousness though, this year has been a lot for me. Both in a good and bad sense, but Käärijä and Joker Out improved it significantly. And more importantly, their fandoms. (More inder the cut bc this is long af)

I have never really been someone who knows anything about the artists' whose music I listened to. Before this, I don't think I ever listened to a full album of someone, just random songs that I liked. Finding stuff from personal life of bands/musicians I liked usually made me depressed so I didn't bother.

Then, ESC 2023. happened. I frankly have no idea what flipped the switch in my head. Bojere interactions? The way people on tumblr were so welcoming even back when I was mostly posting about Let 3 and Käärijä only? I don't know, I only know that we are here now, regardless.

Another thing about me is that I used to be very pessimistic person. Likez genuinely. I have been "unofficially"(long story) diagnosed with depression and anxiety since I was 11, which is over a decade now. I always had a lot of bad experiences with people and really awful trust issues. I have been doing better for some time now, but it is very hard to let go of the feeling of pessimism and helplessness. In a world where awful things happen every second, what can I possibly do that would change anything?

Then ESC happened. Käärijä lost and I thought "another injustice that will never be corrected". Except, instead of feeling defeated, everyone just loved him more. In those weeks after and later on months, all I have seen had been unrelenting love and acceptance of Jere. Reminding him that despite not winning Eurovision, he is our winner and we'll forever think of him as such. Jere who has a wonderfully belly and strong thighs and is short and by no means is he conventional in any sense. And people loved him not despite all that but because all that. Because we all found ways to relate to him, or to what he went through.

His story of almost dying and still getting where he did only served to highlight that more. Because of he did it, why can't we get to what we want? Why can't I? It shifted my whole perspective.

Then, Joker Out. It is so, so funny to me how I barely paid any attention to them during ESC, except for bojere interactions and was dragged in it by the shared fandom, when now I post most about them.

But yes, JO. A band from Slovenia that while tehnically isn't Balkan, felt so close to me. Like they could understand all the things I kept to myself because of where I was. And then they showed me there is still hope.

I have never seen a band from around here take a pride flag on the stage. Never. I know it's a thing, especially abroad, but God I have never seen that happen here. And with how much love they always took it! That's...wow. It gave me hope that not only is it possible for injustices to be corrected, but that ot's possible to do it even in the environment I'm in.

And then...the Virtual Letters Project happened. Or well positive confessions that @spockowhales turned into Virtual Letters Project.

That's when I knew it's truly possible. I have seen tumblr posts, yes. But getting stuff so directly addressed about or to JO made me realize how much of a "wave" they all created. So many people said they helped them with their depression, with viewing their world differentky with meeting new peoplez with daring to do something new.

I have no words to describe how much that meant to me and I really hope that when they read those letters, they understood the impact they had.

But even that aside, I want to thank everyone in this fandom. People I have talked to, people I have interacted with it any way, through replies, reblogs, likes, anon asks. I appreciate every single one of you for helping create such a wonderful space. We had our ups and downs in the fandom, but we are all here because we love these fandoms, these people so much to keep talking about it even months after.

Thank you and I wish everyone here a wonderful New Year with even more laugh, love and positivity ❤️ have a good one

#rio rambles #käärijä #joker out #man this is so long but I couldn't stop myself #rio writes a love letter to jere JO and the fandom in general I guess lmao

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kalevalakryze · 3 months

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Yhe'na Det Och'sa

Chapter Five: Det Baht

Summary: "You're too young to fight a war," Ahsoka had said, with little room for argument. But Shin knew they were ready, knew they were meant for more than that, knew they were worthy to fight at Ahsoka's side... If only they could find some way to prove themselves... Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3| 4 AO3 Link: Here! Notes: All amazing artwork posted in the fic done by @somewillwin

Tension had risen in the weeks since Shin had found their Kyber. The rebellion was beginning to make moves, moves that put them in the public eye, actions that could not be brushed away as separatist outlier activity. The Empire and all of its citizens were beginning to face the truth of the Rebellion that’s been brewing under their feet.

Ahsoka was so busy lately, too. She was meant to be training Shin, but now, the Padawan was lucky to see their Master once in the mornings. “I want to come with you,” Shin declared that fateful morning over breakfast. They’d done their morning meditation alone, they’d helped Huyang attend to the ship alone, and now, as Ahsoka pulled her cloak over her shoulders with half of a burned piece of toast hanging past her lips, Shin knew they would be spending much more than breakfast alone. “You’re not ready yet, Shin,” Ahsoka sighed, not even looking at her.

“Isn’t this what I’m training for?” The twelve-year-old demanded, hands flailing towards the door Ahsoka planned on walking out of. It was almost as if every time they had the displeasure of docking with a Rebel Cruiser, Ahsoka would be gone for days , something about a Ghost Crew . Shin couldn’t help the bristling feeling that came with every story of a Padawan boy and a Mandalorian girl that was shared in their brief times together…

“No,” Ahsoka sounded definitive; Usually, that would be enough to quiet the brunette. Today, however, they found a burning in their heart, a restless anxiety that wanted her to beg not to go, a creeping feeling in the Force that made their skin crawl. “You’re training to be something else. You aren’t a soldier.”

“Well… Why not?” Their breakfast went forgotten as they stood from the table, scrawny arms crossed over their chest as they tried to put themselves between the door and the woman trying to go past it. “I have the weapon, the galaxy needs the help. Who’s going to watch your back out there?”

“Shin, you are twelve, you are not fighting a war.” The fire in Ahsoka’s eyes matched the stubborn might in Shin’s own, a brewing typoon that would destroy everything if they’d let it. Ahsoka never talked about it, and Shin had never known to ask, but the words hung in a haunting manner. Ahsoka would not raise another child soldier, but… would the galaxy truly give her that choice.

“Isn’t it the will of the Force that I’m at your side?”

“I’m just trying to keep you there in one piece,” Ahsoka acquiesced, bristling under the long-forgotten familiarity as she reached to place a hand on their shoulder to usher them out of her way. “I’ll be back later, we can discuss this attitude when I get back.”

Her words were final, and with a deflated huff, Shin watched as Ahsoka swept down the ramp and into the bustling hangar bay to board the ship that would take her to the Ghost Crew.

“You do not hate her,” Huyang pointed out as a simmering Padawan joined him in the cockpit of the T-6, watching as Ahsoka’s small starship shot out of the hangar bay and entered hyperspace a short ways away. “You hate how powerless the situation has made you feel.” He added unhelpfully.

“Thanks, Huyang,” The pre-teen grumbled as they dropped into the copilot's seat and pulled the seatbelts tight. “Can I drive?”

“No thank you, I value my life.”

“You’re twelve,” Shin mocked, in what was yet again, another pathetic rendition of the argument from that morning. “I’ll not allow you to do what it is that I’ve been training you for,” The young Padawan scoffed as she passed a small torch to Huyang. “How kriffing ridiculous,”

Huyang was either endlessly patient or he’d tuned her out entirely. From an old radio in his voicebox, speakers played almost calming music, though it did nothing to quell the pre-teen’s frustrations. “Huyang, meht had to get up to something before, right? There’s no way she would have stayed behind.”

“You are a much better-behaved Padawan than she had been, that is correct,” He answered for the first time since they’d angrily barged into his quarters for something to do. “I need that spare emitter in box four cresh, please.”

“Right! I am a good Padawn. I’ve done everything right!” Shin continued, as if she hadn’t bothered to hear the droid, but still pushed off her stool to sort through the box and grab the burnt and ruined lightsaber emitter he’d asked for. “So why isn’t any of it good enough for her,”

Digital yellow eyes clocked onto the brunette as they gathered materials for his next step. These were words he’d heard often, across several lineages of Padawans going back eons, however… This lineage, when they spoke in such a way… he’d learned to become cautious.

“Perhaps you should find another subject to ponder, young Tano. Do not feed those thoughts,”

Silver eyes narrowed at him; “I can control my mind just fine, if that’s what you’re afraid of, Huyang,”

The two stared at each other, Huyang refused to be cowed by the way silver eyes crinkled towards him, the way the human’s nose crinkled as if they would get violent to prove their statement. “Whatever, I’m out of here. Let me know when Ahsoka wants me around,” They huffed, pre-pubescent rage fueling the way their feet stomped to their room.

At least, in space, the comm towers were easier to connect to. The connection was good enough that, as Shin tossed themselves into their bunk and dialed Leia’s comm chain, the Princess was accepting the transmission before they’d even righted themselves in the bunk.

“Shin!” Leia sounds relieved as her form strikes into the holo. Two-vee is parading around the Princess’s head, tutting something or other about taking calls without being proper.

“Hey,” The pre-teen croaked, tucking her small tooka doll into her arms as a welcome companion as she placed the comm disc on a small shelf near the head of the bunk, full of various other trinkets.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” Even through the artificial life of the holoprojector, Shin could feel the warmth in dark brown eyes as they focused solely on her. Leia always was kind like that, even with everything she had going on, with her apprenticeship in the Senate and preparing for her Day of Demand, she was always ready to set it all aside for them.

“My mom and I got into an argument,” They grumbled, burying their face into the crook of their elbow as embarrassment crept onto their cheeks.

“You and Ashla? But you two never fight?” Leia squinted at the brunette suspiciously, finally succeeding in getting Two-Vee to back away from twisting her hair into braids, allowing both girls solitude.

“It’s been happening a lot lately, and I just. . .” The pre-teen huffed out a frustrated exhale. There was so much she couldn’t say, things that she couldn’t tell Ahsoka, or Huyang, and things that she really couldn’t tell Leia, for her safety. “It feels like she doesn’t get it . If anyone would understand, you’d expect it to be her, from what Huyang said about her time as a…kid, but then she just acts like…” There was a shuffling noise from Shin’s end, the brunette resorted to animated hand movements that made no real sense but seemed to express what words could not.

“I get it,” Leia admitted, tone touching a tad softer now as she folded her hands neatly over the desk. “Perhaps… she doesn’t want to see you make the same mistakes she had?”

“Don’t be rational with me,” Shin groaned, the pillow they’d cradled into their stomach with their free arm being moved to rest over their head as silver-blue eyes peered past the gap pathetically at the older girl.

Leia laughed at this, bubbly and warm, and enough to bring a smile to Shin’s lips as well. “Alright alright, no rationality from me, promise. Have you thought about dying all of her clothes pink?”

“Oh my makers, you’re a genius. The next time we get to Alderaan, we need to get the dye,”

“Oh, it’s so on. Where are you guys at anyways? When can I see you again?”

Letting the pillow fall from their head, Shin peered to the star map settled on the nightstand, just out of frame. “We’re out in the outer rim, bringing some supplies to Jakku.” Leia’s eyes seemed to light up at the thought.

“I wish I could be out there with you, helping people..”

Shin’s eyes lowered. You and me both… “There’s important work to be done in the senate. My mother is still trying to push past the siege on Mandalore to be allowed to deliver supplies to the citizens who have been cut off by Imperial restrictions. Without people like your father and you, we may never succeed,” It was the same Bantha Fodder that Ahsoka always fed her, when they would ask about Leia joining them on the ship, or when Shin would question her about Leia’s knowledge of the Rebellion and when they would finally be able to be truthful to each other.

Leia seemed to tire of this response as well, idly picking at the fresh paint on her nails as Shin spoke. “There is, but it doesn’t feel like it has as big an impact as actually helping a person, face-to-face.”

“Every choice you make has an impact in some way…” Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Shin shifted in their bunk, reaching to unclip their saber from their belt and stuff it in its safe place, between the mattress and the durasteel wall. “What have you been up to, anyway?”

As Leia went into the tirade of her recent exploits with her father in Coruscant and her plans for her Day of Demand, Shin let herself sink into the familiar feeling of being around someone normal .

It was nearly two standard hours later, as Leia discussed her plans to climb Appenza Peak, that the chill began to permeate everything around Shin. No matter how many blankets they burrowed themselves in, the cold persisted.

“Shin, where are you? I think you’re breaking up-“ Leia’s voice crackled, pulling them from their inquisitive respite, idly reaching through the Force for the source of the cold.

“Huh?” Blinking, the brunette pulled herself into a sitting position, blankets pooling around their waist as paranoia began to flood their veins.

It felt like frost was permeating their very being as they rose from their bunk. Leia’s form was distorting as the comms wavered. With a willing tug of the force, Shin’s saber flew to their hand, easing the anxiety that ate away at their mind. “Huyang?” Shin called, foolishly hoping that the strange feeling had something to do with his work.

The ship rocked with the energy of someone docking with the shuttle, she could hear Leia bark their name one final time before a jammer cut the signal entirely at last.

As Shin slipped from their bunk room, fingers flexing around the bolt of their saber, they heard the telltale hiss of hydraulics as their airlock was being forced open.

“Lady Tano, you need to-“ Shin didn’t give him time to finish as they sped across the cabin; his chassis was hard against their shoulder as they body-checked the ancient droid, sending him tumbling back into his workspace with a loud clang.

His back caught on the sharp edge of a table, and with a wince, Shin noted the sound of wires being ripped from their sockets and the sight of the lights in his eyes powering down. With a quick flash of their saber through the control panel, the door slid shut and locked tight. They had to hope it was enough to keep him safe, at least.

The airlock popped at last, flooding the cabin with a choking darkness that permeated their soul in its venom. Shin took a breath to steady themselves against the tidal waves in the force, thoughts straying briefly to Ahsoka, hoping that some sort of warning would reach her through the jammer. Hells, maybe she was on her way right now .

As heavy footsteps thudded against the durasteel floors and their hands wrapped around their saber, raising their defenses, they sent out their last Hail Mary. Meht… please hurry.

The Ghost crew moved like a well-oiled machine on most days. If that well-oiled machine was chock full of different parts that misfired constantly. But ever since Fulcrum told them who she was- to a degree- they’d found their footing and were making good on nearly all of their strikes against the Empire.

Ever since the Inquisitors started showing up, Ahsoka had been so awfully busy, not only were they hunting Ezra and Kanan, but Ahsoka learned that they had information on other survivors, people Ahsoka had only hoped to find in her years since the purge.

The halls of the light cruiser they’d found floating in open space were crowded with the stench of decay. Stormtrooper corpses mottled the ship in all places, with lightsaber scorch marks all across the plastoid and walls.

“Eyuch,” Ezra complained as he stepped over a body, nose scrunching up slightly. “Can’t believe we found something that smells worse than Zeb ,” The teenager scoffed, actually putting himself closer to the Lasat like a moving air freshener.

“Yeah yeah, kid,” Zeb grumbled, checking his shoulder into the boy as they rounded a corner, bumping him into one of the walls.

“Will you two cut it out?” Sabine’s voice was distorted through her helmet’s vocoder, though her annoyance dripped through it as she pulled her blasters close, popping her arms back out once she was around and clear.

Hera moved quietly between Ahsoka and Kanan, pinching the bridge of her nose as the bickering continued. “Chop, get the door to Hangar nine open, please,” She called over her comms, receiving a warble in reply as they moved.

As the door opened, Ahsoka’s step faltered. Klaxons were blaring, and darkness was flooding a small ship, when she looked at the sabers in her hands, it was not the orange of her skin or the emerald green of her own sabers that met her eye, and it certainly wasn’t Greivious or Pirates piling past the airlock .

“Ahsoka-“ Kanan’s hand was heavy on her shoulder, brows furrowed in concern at her stumble. When she focused back on the real world, it was the familiar and unwelcome comfort that came with the chaos of a battlefield. Ezra stood before the two Clone War survivors, blocking them from incoming lasers, Hera and Zeb each took up one side of the door, firing blind into the smog that filled the hangar bay, while Sabine’s gloved hands pressed into her biceps, steadying her where Kanan couldn’t, with his own saber raised in their defense.

Shaking her head quickly, Ahsoka righted herself, brushing off the support readily as she ignited her sabers. “I’m alright, let’s focus-“

Another wave, a choking presence across the only Force bond she’d allowed herself.

Meht…

Her blade faltered, and a bolt of plasma broke her defense and singed the collar of her tunic, though it didn’t do much in cutting through skin, not with the thick material of the Akul hide protecting her body.

“Chopper! Get these doors closed, now!” Hera shouted; forever perceptive when it came to her Force Sensitive companions.

As the doors slammed shut and the chaos was silenced, Ahsoka found that the ground was rushing towards her all too fast, knees hitting durasteel almost simultaneously as Kanan dropped, a hand to his head as the darkness pervaded his defenses, poison sinking into the three of them with fangs they could not hope to remove.

“Ahsoka-“ Ezra’s face had paled, Zeb’s arms were wrapped tight around him, keeping him up as a cold fever rushed across his skin. “ What is this? ”

“We need to go- I need to go-“ Fulcrum rushed out, once again brushing off the Mandalorian and Twi’lek’s hands from her arms as she forced herself to rise. It was no coincidence, and it was not just the Force trying to warn her, it was Shin, reaching across boundless space to call for help… and that darkness, it was an inquisitor.

Everything she’d done to protect them would be in vain if she didn’t get there fast enough. “Where do you need to go?” Hera offered readily, heart bigger than was safe.

“I need to go alone, it won’t be safe for your crew,” The pilot was going to argue, but Ahsoka didn’t have *time,* the moment she was on the Ghost, she was moving to the phantom. “I have to ask that you don’t track this, Hera. But I will return as soon as I can.”

Uneasy with the situation, Hera found herself acquiescing with only a nod of her head and a brush of her hand against the Togruta’s bicep. “Be safe, Ahsoka,”

Ahsoka did not acknowledge the crew further as she climbed into the Phantom and flew through her flight checks, undocking and engaging the thrusters and hyperdrive the moment she was able.

I’m coming, du tungama.

Scrambling to a panel along the far wall, Shin cut the remaining power to the shuttle, leaving only life support and the dim emergency lights as a way to see. There was only one lifeform pushing past the hatch and that , Shin could handle.

Huyang had left a box of spare lightsaber hilts out, which Shin was quick to take advantage of, spilling them out onto the floor around the airlock before scrambling to find cover under a bench as the stranger passed through.

Metal clanked and rolled as heavy footsteps found her surprise, though instead of something more startled , the stranger only laughed. Low, poisonous and foreboding. Through the dim lighting, Shin caught the lights reflecting off of black gloves, just barely catching sight of the stranger plucking a hilt from the floor. Tutting to themselves, the stranger allowed it to drop back down.

The noise reverberated through Shin’s skull, prompting them to huddle closer to the inside of the bench as the stranger began moving through the largest part of the cabin, looking for… something. When the door to their bunk hissed open, Shin took their move, scrambling on their hands and knees to crawl out from under the table.

Heart hammering in their chest, silver-blue eyes tried to focus, to see past the literal and figurative darkness that clouded their vision, forcing their breathing to still despite the effort that came with each forced inhale. If they were too loud, then she’d be done for; she just had to buy Ahsoka enough time-

This was the mantra they repeated to themselves as they scurried across a dark floor, hauling themselves into the cockpit and all but throwing themselves into the pilot's seat, fingers flying over the controls to see what could be done about forcing the ship to detach and getting comms back up.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” The woman sing-songed from the main cabin, footsteps heavy on the floor as she made her way around the outskirts. Shin focused on their presence in the Force, nearly recoiling from shock at the feeling that enveloped the stranger. How can a person be so… dark? A shiver ran up their spine, bile gathering in their throat as she heard the clatter of things being thrown around; the shattering of a datapad rang particularly harsh in their ears, though they did not have time to mourn the loss as the footsteps rounded closer; “I know you’re in here, Fulcrum,” The woman hissed sharply.

The concentration it took to topple the plate on the table from their spot in the cockpit was immense, feeling through the force for the forgotten porcelain with stale toast sitting atop it. Just as the dark stranger passed the threshold, Shin found her grasp, sending the plate and food off the table behind them with a clatter.

A predator who’d just smelled blood, the woman turned away from the cockpit, steps loud as they retreated back to the table. The click hiss of a saber igniting was familiar, freezing Shin’s blood as they hauled themselves into the small hollowed space in the cockpit walls.

The table split in half all too easily under the sweeping strike, if Shin hadn’t moved, they were certain that the swing of the blade would have gone clean through their head. Crimson light bled through the doors into the dark space, filling the air with burning ozone and the reek of crisped bread.

“Coward!” Their voice was distorted like they were speaking through a mask, though Shin could hear the raw anger in their scream as the saber sliced through what they had to assume was a bench. The smell of scorched fibers let Shin know that they’d neglected to move their poncho from the back of the bench like Ahsoka had asked them to at least five times before she’d left that morning .

Meht, please get here, I won’t argue about coming with you ever again, just… hurry, please .

The walls didn’t extend very far, at least, not the hallowed portions that they could move through. The pipes were hot, and Shin could feel perspiration building at their temple as they moved to the gap in the ceiling that would give them some kind of vantage point.

Through the first gap, Shin caught sight of the stranger, tall, draped in black cloth and adorned with shining armor, equally as black, with a mask that they weren’t sure anyone could truly see out of covering their face. The woman was nearing the door to Huyang’s room, obviously catching the still glowing embers of where Shin had punctured his control panel.

There was a tug in her gut as she watched them approach. Ahsoka had told them about Huyang’s survival, of his importance to who the Jedi were, had been for so long; no one knew what it meant to be a Jedi more than him, and the Empire would soil that; She couldn’t let this… Imperial ruin that for the world.

A discarded saber hilt flung through the air at Shin’s command, bouncing harmlessly off the armor, scraping against the polished paint job once it hit. As the woman’s head turned, Shin dropped down from the vent, boots smacking the ground with a bodily thump .

The Inquisitor was quick to turn towards them, though they did not seem startled by the sudden appearance, in fact… were they shaking?

Her shoulders shook as dark laughter barked from her throat.

Oh… being laughed at. This was the worst way to die… huh?

“ You? You expect me to believe Agent Fulcrum is a child? ” She could barely speak through her laughter as Shin lifted their chin.

The child did not respond, simply squaring their feet like Huyang had taught them, cementing their place between the woman and the door. Ahsoka will be here soon.

The snap hiss of their saber activating was grounding, something familiar they could use to anchor themselves as blue light ignited the cabin, allowing them to see the damage that had been caused at last. Everything had been torn from their places and scattered across the ground, broken and destroyed without a care in the world. Even the picture frames that held digital memories flickered and faded, screens cracked beyond repair from where they’d been stomped all over.

“Mmm, perhaps I did underestimate you,” She could not see the woman’s eyes, but she could feel them, how they raked over her form and analyzed the stance. “ Jedi? Clearly trained…” Shin was taken aback a moment as the woman rambled off notes to herself. “You’re in a form two stance, I haven’t had the pleasure of gutting many who’d favored such a form, would you like to be the first?”

“Sounds like you’d rather be the first one to die here,” They ground out with as much courage as they could manage, though their voice wavered on the syllables. Shin had never taken a life, never imagined it as something they would have to do, but… if they had to do it to protect Huyang, then they would. “You can take this chance to walk away, though, it doesn’t have to go like this,”

The woman across from her blanched at the words, and for a moment, Shin had the childish belief that she would listen, see the error of her ways, and go away . Luck, however, did not appear to be on the Padawan’s side as a crimson snap hiss seemed to suck the air from the room, and her lungs. Red, blue, and purple lit up the inside of the ship, suddenly, Shin’s saber felt heavier, everything felt like too much, and there was a flash of hopelessness that filled their senses.

“The Jedi Code is a sickness,” The woman mocked. Silver eyes caught the way her fingers twitched, a hint that The Force was being turned on them to weigh them down with the malady of the Dark Side. “Do you know why your people failed so easily, young one?”

Shin did not answer, though they assumed the woman would have continued either way as their saber rotated smoothly around their wrist, as if it were some kind of plaything. Or maybe Shin was the plaything and had only tricked themselves into believing they were an equal .

“The one thing people in this galaxy love to see more than Jedi heroes is to watch them fall. This galaxy.. It’s sick . How the scum of the world turned on their heroes so fast, just to enjoy the fall. In spite of everything you do for them, they hate you, have from the start.” A pause as if she was considering her own words. “But… you’re young yet… your Master…”

Shin’s breath hitched at the mention of Ahsoka, was the Inquisitor in their head? A tilt of the woman’s head across from her confirmed the theory that their shields had fallen. “Your Master thinks you aren’t ready, yet here you are, standing up to me…” They could practically feel the smile on her lips. “It isn’t too late for you, Padawan.”

“I warned you,” It was all Shin could choke out before they found themselves lunging forward. Their blade moved along the side in a wide arc, clashing against red all too easily as rich laughter bounced off the walls.

“Oh yes, how could I have forgotten,” The woman barked, seemingly enjoying herself as she countered the swift blows Shin threw at them in quick succession. Tutting occasionally, Shin found the woman calling out tips on their form, calling out their openings instead of moving in for the kill, and allowing them the time to cover the holes in their defenses.

Calling upon the Force to lend them strength and energy, Shin found themselves dipping into Form Five, though they had nowhere near the same skill as Ahsoka in this form, they found that the Inquisitor quieted with the change, and even seemed to be exerting themselves to keep defending themselves.

The smell of burning flesh met one of their strikes, startling enough to throw Shin off center as the Inquisitor hissed and jumped back from the blade that had sliced through their thigh. The woman cursed in a language Shin did not know, though when they bounced back, it was with renewed vigor. “Perhaps you aren’t as pathetic as I thought,” She growled, hand shoving out to command an invisible wall of the Force that sent Shin back into the wall.

It took every ounce of training she’d ever had to keep hold of her saber as her back crashed into the mess on the counter from Ahsoka’s caff. Pinpricks itched at their back where glass had shattered, though it was forgotten as the pre-teen was quickly pushed on the defensive against an opponent much larger than themselves. Each hit came down with a staggering force, keeping the child pinned at the counter as they intercepted the crimson blade with their own.

Bracing their hand against the counter to push back against the growing force against their saber, muscles tiring quickly as sweat ran in rivers down their face, Shin was helpless but to watch as a heavy boot was raised and kicked out against their hand, smashing it between the edge of the counter and the crisp tread of their sole.

Their breath caught in their throat, swallowing the shout of pain that threatened to tear past, tears welled up in their eyes and their teeth grit together hard, even as the boot stayed against their hand, putting it there as more weight was pressed into it.

The Inquisitor was getting joy from their bitten-back screams, finding delight in the way their brow wavered as sweat and silent tears made the white paint on their reddening face begin to run.

Reaching past their sabers, two gloved hands reached out to grasp her jaw, earring another choked sound as their head was turned to face the white-hot light of their sabers clashing together. “You’re good stock, it would be a shame to waste your potential,”

Words were not spoken to Shin, but about her, as if they had nothing to offer besides a pretty face, even as they managed to hold their… mild, defense against the older woman.

Shin’s saber deactivated in a knee-jerk reaction; the sight of a red blade streaking towards their head felt a lot like free-falling through the air, though they were fast- fast enough to duck their head below the blade and shove back up, catching the hard material of the woman’s mask with their forehead.

The Inquisitor stumbled with the force, releasing their hold on Shin’s foot as they took several steps back to steady themselves, a hand even disappeared under their mask for a moment.

Shin noticed with glee, as their heart plummeted to the floor, and with it, their knees giving from under their frame, broken hand and still burning saber hitting the ground in a way that had them biting back a yelp, the Inquisitor’s glove was bloody when it came from under the mask.

But Shin had no more fight in them, their arms shook from exertion, and the pain in their hand shot from their fingertips all the way along ignited nerves to their chest. Every ounce of their weight supported on their left hand that found support through broken fingers threatened to break the dam, their control of the Force was slipping with each attempt they made to will it in helping her stand, and the Inquisitor was recovering fast.

“You are going to regret that!” The Inquisitor growled, voice slurred, as if she were speaking around a heavy tongue, a minor win in Shin’s book, until, at least, the same boot that cracked down on their hand began to lift again.

Shin’s hand raised a vain effort, a silent plea for mercy as she drew near. Their head turned down, catching the bottom of the boot in the back of the head, squeezing their eyes shut tight just in time; they weren’t sure if they’d have been able to stomach just how fast their face had met the ground. The searing pain that exploded had been enough to put the child out, slumping bonelessly into the ground beneath the Inquisitor’s foot.

Where was Ahsoka…?

As the phantom pulled into the last coordinates of the T-6, Ahsoka immediately noticed the signs of forced entry. Airlock hatch pieces floating uselessly in the open space around it. As she began the approach, she scanned for a signal, of some type of life. “Huyang?” She called over the comms, grimacing at the static that flooded the line she was met with.

As she advanced, she heard a quiet beep, hidden under the static, a beeping noise, the sound of a recording being rewound as the static cleared. “Imperial patrols are boarding the ship. I repeat; Imperial patrols are boarding the ship. I… I think it’s an Inquisitor, it’s dark… and so cold. Please hurry. There's not much time… I’ll try to hold them off, meht… I’m sorry…” Then, a loud flash of static and a robotic monotone. “This message will repeat.” With panic stirring in her heart, Ahsoka managed to use the phantom’s emergency gear to latch onto the side of the T-6 and jerry-rig a connector for the airlock, dropping into the dark abyss that met her the moment the door was open.

The darkness that enveloped her the moment she crossed the threshold was overwhelming, though, after going yoke to yoke with Darth Vader, she’d found it easy to push past the veil and forge onwards.

Lightsaber hilts cluttered all over the floor, spilled in what would have been a strategic way if someone hadn’t already trampled through them all. Burning metal, fabric, and the familiar tang of blood met her nose as she continued her investigation in the dark, blue eyes practically glowing as they adjusted to the barely there emergency lights.

There were scorch marks all over the ship; from a cut through the table and benches, so slicing through the door of Shin’s bunk room. As Ahsoka explored, material possessions cracked under her boots, unable to find a clear path that avoided the scenes of the battle. She could hear the recent echos in the force, and with each blink, she would watch as blue met red in a flurry of motion, as a towering black figure advanced on someone much smaller, though each time she tried to focus on the Force’s interpretation of the small figure, they would change. One moment, she would see Shin standing against the figure, then herself, from the Clone Wars, ending with a vision of herself in the present. It didn’t make sense, as only one of these days had come to pass in the worst way possible, though Ahsoka did not have time to focus on that.

There was one marking that seemed strategic, the burns had long since gone cold, so it couldn’t have been from the fighting. Igniting her saber and bringing light to the scene in front of her, the Togruta was forced to take pause. Red ichor painted the countertop around shattered mugs and an old teapot she’d gotten from Rex before they’d parted ways. “Shin…” Her voice was that of a mournful rumble, the pain too great to handle.

Falling into her old ways was easy, a second skin to the survivor who had no choice. The pain was pushed to the recesses of her mind as she focused on her next steps; Where was Huyang? Was Shin alive? How would she find them? Did she give up on her? Did Ahsoka fail her not only as Master but as mother as well?

Focusing on the task at hand, Ahsoka sunk her blade into the durasteel of Huyang’s door. The metal did not give easily, offering a hearty resistance as she sliced a hole through the shot panel. Once a hole big enough to step through was created, the woman pushed forward with her saber held high.

“Lady T-T-T” A malfunctioning voice rasped, though there was no light in the collapsed droid’s eyes. “Tano,”

“Huyang,” Ahsoka breathed, finding a small relief in the professor’s survival. “Huyang, what happened, where is Shin?” She knelt before the droid, peering at the mess of limbs and wires that had been damaged in his fall.

“Padawan Tano lo-lo-lo-locked me in here before they arrived-” His head snapped at a ninety-degree angle with a crack before slowly righting itself to face her. “I went into low power mode, they must have assumed I powered off,”

Reaching into his chassis, Ahsoka managed to reconnect enough wire to get his eyes lit back up, and even get him movement over his own arms again. “She’s alive, the Inquisitor wanted her alive,” He managed to recall, using his renewed control of his arms to shift himself off the corner of his workbench, allowing Ahsoka to sit him on the table to lean his upper half back against the cabinets.

“We need to get the ship back together and find her… fast.”

“Agreed, although…” His eyes shifted to the carnage beyond his doorway. “We have our work cut out for us,”

“We won’t be able to land anywhere near the Rebellion, they’ll have eyes on this ship, and I need to get the phantom away from here as fast as possible… If they can track us, who’s to say they can’t track Her.” The Togruta worried her lip; Focusing on Leia was easier than focusing on the Shin’s pain that echoed through the force here.

Putting herself to work on fixing Huyang was good, it was productive, and she didn’t have to think as she went about the methodical task of removing ruined parts, reattaching pieces that had only been tugged from their sockets, and moving around his workspace, tugging down drawers of spare materials, to his annoyance.

By the time she’d finished, Huyang had most of his fine motor skills back, although she wasn't able to reconnect the pieces that went to the arms on his back with what she had, they’d need to find a real droid mechanic somewhere out here first.

The rest of the ship… was a bigger problem. Oil, coolant, and fuel leaked out inside the ship, thanks to the deep gouges across floors and walls, the only reason the fumes didn’t get her was in part, thanks to the fact that life-support had stayed on, allowing the vents to increase their usage once the lower explosive limit alarms had been set off. “We won’t be able to start the ship,” Ahsoka complained as she popped open the face of an intact control panel. “Not until we get those leaks contained and find some way to refuel.”

Huyang had trailed after her out of his workshop and had paused at the carnage around their home, though Ahsoka did not hear anything from him, even as she got the lights to power back up. When she turned her head to look over her shoulder, her heart nearly froze.

Shin’s lightsaber was cradled in both of his hands, blood smeared across the Alderaniaan hilt, scratches, chips, and scuff marks marring the materials where it had been thrown around. Ahsoka stood there, unable to move, breathe, or speak, as Huyang’s thumb swiped down the saber’s hilt mournfully, blinking at the sight before him.

Tearing her eyes from sight was one of the hardest things anyone could have expected her to do, and still, she managed to do so, focusing instead on darker droplets of blood just feet away from where Huyang had been standing. “Huyang, look,” With the lights on the stains around the cabin, it was clear that the ichor spilled was from two different beings, and the blood in front of her was clearly from someone dark and twisted, everything about them had been poisoned, so it only made sense even their blood would be tainted.

Huyang studied the droplets as well, rising to his feet after a moment as he tucked Shin’s saber safely at his hip for the time being, “Ahsoka,” He began, putting himself in her path, unallowing her from pushing past to the cockpit, “She is alive,” He spoke as if trying to offer comfort, though he did not see the way her lip quivered on her next breath.

That’s what I’m scared of . She was already facing the reality that Anakin very well could have Fallen, she couldn’t lose Shin, too. But she’d known the Fifth Brother and the Eighth Sister herself, had passed them in the Jedi temple all those years ago. They’d been younglings then, and Ahsoka understood that with the riht motivator, even the purest of people could be made to do the worst things. “We’re going to get her back,” Is all she could say, turning her head away from the droid as she pushed past him, ignoring the stinging in her eyes as she began picking up around the cabin. It was all she could say to keep the air in her lungs steady, to be able to take that next step forward at all. Whoever this Inquisitor was, they would pay, somehow, someway, Ahsoka would be sure they received everything the Force had in store for them.

#Shin Tano AU #Shin Hati #Ahsoka Tano #Leia Organa #Huyang #Fanfiction #somewillwin #star wars #ahsoka #Ghost Crew #ezra bridger #Hera Syndulla #kanan jarrus #garazeb orrelios #Sabine Wren #c1 10p

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fairyofsilence · 2 years

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2. FORMING BONDS | OBSESSION SERIES |

Pairings: Yandere!Namjoon x Reader, Yandere!Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 6.7 K

This is part of the obsession series, you can find my main masterlist here.

Warnings (for this chapter): +18, stalking, anxiety, cursing, mentions of blackmailing, toxic relationships, mentions of murder, mentions of sex work, trauma bonding, childhood trauma is discussed, innapropiate therapist/patient relationship (your therapist should never discuss their private life with you), emotional cheating, recording of sexual acts without the persons knowladge, explicit sexual scenes; short sex scene, choking, mentions of aftercare, Jungkook is a voyeur.

I don't agree nor condone any of the actions made by any of the characters throughout the story, I also do not belive that any of the members of BTS would act this way or have this type of behaviour, this story it's fiction and it's written with the sole purpose of entertainment, please proceed with caution.

Summary:Your husband adores you and he would do anything for you, but little do you know, so will the man who's watching you from the shadows.

Taglist (for this series): @minshookie29, @multifandombishthatlovekth, @kimlineownsme, @marslena, @apriljoon, @investedreader, @darkuni63, @gotnothing-todo, @silversparkles11, @ksooed, @pineapplestemkth (If you like to be added, just comment under this post or send me an ask requesting to be added❤)

A/N: Hello, I know I’ve been gone since practically forever, and I’m really sorry about that, but I had a terrible writer’s block during the summer, I will just stare at my screen and hope for the words to come out of my head, but finally, I somehow managed to finish this chapter, I’m posting this while being half asleep so please ignore any mistakes, I’ll be editing this over the weekend and working on chapter 3, so please look foward for that, any type of feedback it’s appriciated by me btw, so don’t be shy hehe, I hope you have a good day and thank you for reading!❤

If you were to ask her about her job, Haneul would say that she wouldn’t consider it to be difficult at all.

It was perfect for someone like her, she was fresh out of college, it paid her enough to make ends meet every month and her boss was so incredibly kind and sweet to her, in the past year the both of you had grown closer than she would’ve expected, you were quick to put so much trust on her, you’ll always tell her how much you appreciated her work and praise her for how efficient she was, maybe that’s why Haneul always feels so bad when she must go behind your back and report to your husband of your daily activities at work.

She never meant to betray your trust like this, and she was almost a hundred percent sure that what she was doing its illegal, but when Kim Namjoon himself showed up to her apartment, bringing two suitcases filled with cash and promising to pay for her student debt, while also helping her move to a better side of town, she couldn’t help but to agree, this happened after her first week of working for you, she didn’t thought she’ll be staying for long, but then what started as an agreement became a reason to blackmail her, when she tried to break off their deal, he just dismissed her by telling her that if she tries to break off their arrangement he will leave her with even a worst debt than she was previously on, and that was all it took for Haneul to tuck her tail between her legs and keep on showing up to work, shame and guilt eating her up every day as you continue to see her as a good and hardworking girl only for her to turn around and do the most unethical things behind your back, but it was her life over yours, that’s how Haneul tries to console herself whenever she feels the guilt start to eat her up once more, you could start over, your husband can afford to buy you a new life if you wanted to, but Haneul? She had nothing, this job was all she had, and she’ll be damned if she ends up losing it, so with a heavy conscience and she picks up her phone and types out the message she desperately wishes she didn’t have to send, but nevertheless, she ends up doing it, and receives an answer far too quick for her own liking.

“From: Haneul

To: KNJ

First person scheduled for today cancelled, new patient just went in, I will send his file after Mrs. Kim is done for the day. Sent at 11:26 A.M”

“From: KNJ

To: Haneul

Keep a close look on him like we talked about, you know I hate it when she has male patients, I also want the footage from the security cameras from that session. Sent at 11:27 A.M”

Haneul often wonders what you could’ve done in your past life to deserve such a crazy man like your husband, but she always ends up without an answer, because she doesn’t think you could’ve done something so bad that would make you end up with a man like this, Haneul doesn’t think anyone deserves to end up with a man like Kim Namjoon as their husband.

“From: Haneul

To: KNJ

Yes sir, I’ll be keeping you updated. Sent at 11:28 A.M”

His last message sent shivers down her spine, if there was something that Kim Namjoon had done ever since they met, it was knowing exactly how to make her fear him.

“From: KNJ

To: Haneul

You better. Sent at 11:29 A.M”

Haneul gulps as she puts her phone down, turning the security cameras back on as she takes a couple of deep breaths to calm down.

Your husband has become the reason for her nightmares and yet you live blissfully unaware of his sick nature, as she types into her document, Haneul wonders if she’ll ever tell you about how much control over your life your husband actually has, but she also remembers that as long as she depends on you, there’s nothing she can do other than silently watch you living a lie next to the man who has trapped you into a false reality, she often wonders how would you react if the perfect world Namjoon has created for you suddenly crumbles, Haneul shakes her head and starts typing once more.

She doesn’t even want to think about the things your husband would do if that day ever comes.

Unironically enough, the answer to her question was currently inside your office.

Drumming his fingers along his thighs, Jungkook feels a drop of cold sweat forming on the right side of his forehead, dripping all the way to his jaw, he licks his lips as he silently watches you work just like he has done so many times in the past, but this time is different, instead of facing his large monitor in the shivering cold and darkness of his own room, Jungkook is looking directly at your face, paying very close attention at any minuscule action you made in the past couple of minutes, controlling himself to not open his mouth and drool at the mere sight of you, that wouldn’t make the good first impression he has planned for years now, there cannot be anything that can mess up his only opportunity to get close to you.

Jungkook has been waiting for this moment for so long he can’t believe it’s finally happening, he has already lost count of the number of times he had to stop himself from reaching out to touch you, to hold you closer to him, to finally have you all to himself, he’s been struggling to remind himself that you were not ready for that yet, but hopefully, that will change soon. You were exactly like he had expected you to be, for Jungkook, watching you was always a pleasing experience, he has learned your quirks and cute expressions from how long he has been watching you, but god, your mannerisms looked even more cute up close rather than on a far distance or from a pixeled screen, years of having to blend into the crowd for him to only get a small glimpse of you, and now he was getting a front row seat on what he would consider the most entertaining show of all time: Watching you live inside the perfect bubble your husband has created for you. You have no idea how much Jungkook is going to enjoy bursting that bubble for you.

Unaware of everything that’s going through his mind, you peered at Jungkook over your glasses, only to find that he was already looking at you, mischief written all over his face, and when you moved your eyes onto him he smiled a little wider, his cute nose scrunched and your heart beat a little too fast for your liking, you decided to return your attention to his chart, which seemed fairly empty, only his most basic medical information was shown and that made you come to the conclusion that this might be the first time he has gone to therapy, closing the metal folder, you put his chart in your lap and give him a reassuring smile, setting the timer on our smart watch to get your first session finally started.

“We’re officially starting our first session as it now Jungkook” You intervene your hands and tilt your head to the side while maintaining eye contact.

“First, I would like to remind you that everything you say in this and if you decide, our next sessions, are extremely confidential and I cannot speak about anything that we discuss in this room, the only time I am allowed to inform about our sessions to anyone else is if I, as your therapist consider that you could harm yourself or that you could put other people in danger, if you have shown up today is because you have read the email I sent you prior to this session, correct?” You reach to your small table next to the individual couch you’re currently sitting, grabbing a small notepad and a pen laying right beside you, Jungkook nods as you open the notepad and begin by writing his name beside today’s date.

“Yes Dr. Kim, I did read the email you sent to me” He also confirms vocally while watching you write his name, the furrow in between your brows making him smile for a moment, so cute, Jungkook thought.

“Perfect, thank you for answering, I hope you don’t mind reminding you that our first sessions might seem a bit slow but I believe it’s best to slowly built up our relationship as patient and therapist, I feel that it’s the best way for not making you feel as if you have to rush into talking about certain topics you’re still not ready to discuss with me, as your therapist I am fully aware how it must not be easy to trust someone so quickly, and I am willing to wait until you feel comfortable enough to talk about certain things” You return to make eye contact as you finish writing down the basics and Jungkook nods along everything you say, giving you a shy smile after your last words.

“That’s very kind of you Dr. Kim” His eyes are starting to look a bit glossy, and the sight of that makes you grip at your pen tightly, there have been countless of patients who have cried on their sessions, especially when it was their first time, why are his tears affecting you so much?

“You don’t have to thank me Jungkook, I’m only here to help you” You shot him a small polite smile and contain the biggest urge to reach out and grab his hand to reassure him, but he notices, the way your hand twitches the same way when you want to reach out for your husband’s hand, and Jungkook couldn’t be more thrilled about it, not believing how much he has affected you in such a short amount of time, this might be easier than what he initially thought. You ignore the sudden urge and continue with the session once more.

“We can start by you telling me the reason why you have decided to see a therapist, you don’t need to go into details if you don’t want, you can answer however you want.”

“I wanted to see a therapist because I think I’m ready to let my past behind me” Jungkook rubs his palms against his thighs and you can tell how nervous he is, you maintain a neutral expression as you write his answer down.

“Not letting your past rule over your present it’s not an easy thing to do, you’ve already done one of the hardest steps in a healing journey, which is accepting that you need to change in order to grow” Jungkook gives you another shy smile and you can’t help but to smile back at him, even though a small voice inside your head tells you that you shouldn’t be doing it but you couldn’t help it, he looks lost, even though you could see that he was physically strong, Jungkook seems to avoid getting the attention on himself, his clothes, his attitude and the way he carried himself told you that much, you don’t know what kind of urge was suddenly overflowing in you but all you knew was that you wanted, no, needed to help him at all cost.

“Can I- Could I start with my upbringing? Is that too much for our first session?” His timid tone it’s heartbreaking, and while it pangs your heart, you maintain a stoic expression and answer his question.

“You can start telling me with what you feel the most comfortable Jungkook, you can trust me on that” Jungkook nods to himself as he plays with his hands, he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath before looking at you again, you make a motion with your hand to let him know you’re listening.

“My mother, she died when I was very young” His voice suddenly became a little bit more deep, and it send shivers down your spine.

“I’m very sorry to hear that Jungkook” He doesn’t seem to register your words as he focuses on the small table that separates the two of you, the topic seems to be rough on him, giving how deep in thought he seems to be, you try to make him come back to you by asking: “Could you tell me how old you were?” Jungkook’s attention returns to you after your question and the coldness in his previously sweet stare takes you aback for a second.

“I was 6” His answer makes you wish you didn’t ask but you know you must keep going regardless of your compassion towards him.

“Do you remember how it happened?, where you were when you received the news?” You write his previous answer and try to avoid eye contact to not show any emotion to what his next answer might be, but nothing can prepare you for what his next words are.

“I was the one who found her” His voice quivers and you quickly turn your head to look at him only to find him already staring at you, he doesn’t wait for an answer as he keeps talking: “She was murdered, it was client of hers, never knew who he was, she had a lot of clients so I never bother to remember any of their faces” Jungkook cuts eye contact to look over your office window, you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting a question after he was done talking.

“Clients?” You were confused and Jungkook realized his omission made you feel out of context, he quickly filled you into what he was talking about.

“My mother was a prostitute, I’m the son of one of her clients actually” You’re speechless after his confession, you know firsthand the effects of growing up knowing that your mother was a prostitute, and that you were a product of her job, but Jungkook not only had those issues, his mother was also taken from him at such a small age, your self-control seemed to be put to the test today, because you wanted to comfort him, to let him know he wasn’t alone with his pain, but you couldn’t do that without reveling things about yourself, and that was extremely unprofessional, you knew better than to cross those lines, but doing it once wouldn’t hurt, right? You pride yourself for being extremely sufficient with helping your patients to get better, wouldn’t this help Jungkook? It must if you had this immense urge to tell him, you weren’t being unprofessional, in fact, you were doing the right thing, weren’t you?

“You think that this event it’s what’s stopping you from getting better?”

“I don’t think, I know it is” Jungkook chuckles and crosses his arms while leaning back into the sofa, you raise an eyebrow as you put your hands in your stomach.

“How do you view me as a person Jungkook?” Your question seems to take him by surprise, but he responds after a moment.

“Professional, kind, hardworking” You let out a small smile at his short but sweet description of yourself.

“And if I told you that the person you just described when through similar things as you did, would you change your mind?” Jungkook looks at you even more confused than before so you decide to let him know the aspect of your life you’re not fond of speaking about it “Our mothers shared the same profession Jungkook” His pretty doe eyes are wide in shock and even his mouth opens a little bit, you can’t help but to giggle at his reaction and that seems to make him snap out of his brief state of shock.

There’s a small moment of silence before Jungkook speaks out again.

“How do you do it?” Jungkook ask in a hushed tone, if you weren’t playing close attention to him you probably wouldn’t have heard him.

“How do I do what?” You had a faint idea of what he was trying to say, but you wanted him to voice out his thoughts, for Jungkook to acknowledge what his fear is.

“How do you live with the shame of it? I feel like every time I’m walking down the street, somehow people just know, and I can almost feel them judging me, even when I know that her actions weren’t my fault, I feel like I can’t open up with anyone because they wouldn’t understand and they would judge me because of this, I feel so ashamed all the time and I really don’t know how to make it stop” His confession cut deep into your heart as you felt deep within you each and every single one of his words, the resemblance between the two of you was becoming more prominent each time he revealed something about himself, and you couldn’t help but to project into him, you knew the struggle he was going through, better than anyone else, you could see it in his eyes, the desperation and the frustration on people judging you over something you had absolute no control over, your heart hurts for him and you feel the frustration building up in you, as you watch him patiently waiting for an answer from you, you decided that this was beyond just a professional relationship, he needed from you, Jungkook needed guidance, friendship, he needed everything you were willing to give him, and you intended to give him your all.

You lean forward as you maintain eye contact with him, he mirrors your actions as he plays with his fingers, impatiently waiting for what you are about to say.

“I don’t think that my answer it’s what you are expecting to hear” Hearing the truth sometimes does more damage than it helps, you know it well, Jungkook stops his movement all together and the words coming out of his mouth are not what you expected.

“I don’t want you to respond with something you don’t agree with just because it’s the professional thing to do, Dr. Kim, I want to hear your opinion from your own experience” Jungkook straightens his posture as he speaks and the look on his eyes it’s so intense it makes you cut eye contact and lean back into your chair; you don’t think your answer thoroughly before speaking again.

“The shame never leaves, you only learn how to live with it” You expected for Jungkook to blow up the way most of your patients do whenever they don’t receive the answer they were looking for, but he surprised you once more as he looks at you with hope in his beautiful brown eyes.

“Could you help me learn how to live with it, Dr. Kim?” He asks in a low timid tone, and you give him the brightest smile he’s ever seen on you.

“I would love to Jungkook.”

After being forced to practically become your shadow, Haneul has become more observant than she’s ever been before, she has come to notice even the smallest changes on you, and the main thing that set alarms going off inside her head was when not only you accompanied the new patient to the front door, but also how you hugged him and kept on having a small conversation until he finally left, her eyes open so wide to the point she thinks they’ll pop out of its sockets, Namjoon was going to kill her, on more than one occasion he has told her to not let you touch any patients, specifically male patients, and with him already being on the edge because of the new patient, there was no doubt that he was going to be furious about this when he sees the security camera footage, Haneul was in deep shit.

She was shaking by the moment you turned around to return to your office, briefly glancing at her only to stop when you realized just how pale she was, a frown between her brows and a lost look on her eyes told you that something must not be alright, so you carefully approached her until you were in front of her desk.

“Haneul? Is everything okay?” Your clueless question makes Haneul want to rip off her hair.

No, nothing is fucking okay because you can’t just do things like that without me getting my head chopped off, God, why can’t you just listen to your creepy husband for once?

Ignoring her less than friendly thoughts, Haneul takes several deep breaths to compose herself and shots you a sweet smile before answering.

“Everything’s fine Dr. Kim, please don’t worry about it” You seem to believe in her answer as you give her an acknowledging nod before making your way to your office once more.

It’s only after hearing you close the door that Haneul reaches out for her phone, searching with hurry Namjoon’s contact to let him know everything she just saw, she rewrites several times due to her shaky hands.

Haneul might have bad luck, but she considers herself lucky that she won’t be in the receiving end of your husband’s wrath. The mere thought makes the hairs on her arms to rise in fear, shaking her head as if that would take away her thoughts, she continues to write the text that would become the first of many. After working with you for almost a year, Haneul never would’ve thought that a pretty boy would be enough to lure you away from your devoted husband, but then again, you were only human, and she will never judge you for distancing yourself from a man like Namjoon, in fact, Haneul thinks, Jungkook becoming your patient might be for the best, if she only knew about Jungkook’s true intentions, she’ll probably fear him just as much as she fears the man who has left her on read. Haneul gulps as she watches the ‘typing’ text go on and off for a couple of minutes, preparing for the worst, but when she only receives an “Okay” from Namjoon, she realizes that the short cold answer scared her more than a lengthy angry paragraph would.

Haneul knew she shouldn’t had accepted this job so quickly; it seemed far too good to be true. As she stares at her disorganized desk, Haneul wonders how she could had gotten herself stuck in the middle of such a sick relationship when all she expected from this job was to get coffee and take phone calls. Haneul sighs tiredly as she reaches out for her coffee mug.

If only she had listened to her old-fashioned mother who wanted to set her up to become a housewife, she would’ve saved herself the trouble she was currently in. What was previously a thought she dreaded has now become something she longed for.

The only thing that keeps Haneul from going insane it’s pretending that this was just a bad nightmare, that she would wake up and that everything will be alright, but Haneul really doesn’t know how much she can’t play pretend anymore.

Maybe she should book an appointment with you, but judging by your last interaction with a patient, she doesn’t think you’ll stay in business for long, not that your husband would allow it at least.

Being with Jungkook always left you longing for more.

Quickly after your second session the same week after the first one, you realized one hour a day simply wasn’t going to be enough for you.

It started innocent enough, going to a café and walking together in the park, the place never mattered to you, it was spending time with him that made you happy, although you did try to limit yourself to only spend one hour with him without being inside your office, just two people who’ve been through the same shitty struggles and finding comfort within each other.

But your problem started when you stopped limiting yourself.

You started to tell yourself that one hour simply wasn’t enough, and that it wouldn’t hurt to spend more time with him, so one hour turned into two, then it turned into three, and before you knew it you were cancelling appointments for the sake of spending more time with him, a man who wasn’t your husband, a man who understood and comforted you in a way no one had ever been able to do before, not your best friend, and not even the love of your life, but him. Jungkook has quickly made his way into your heart due to his gentleness, how he carefully listens to everything you have to say, the way he brushes off your tears whenever your emotions get the best of you, the way his hand lingers until it finally reaches over to hold yours, it would be shocking if you didn’t end up growing fond of him after spending so much time with him, and while a small voice inside your head kept on whispering how wrong this was, how you were somehow betraying the trust your adoring husband has put on you, you always chose to ignore it, focusing on what Jungkook needed instead. Your husband will understand, he always does, it’s why you love him so much, he would be understanding when you tell him how sweet Jungkook is, how you guys just hit it off so well that it almost seemed like you’ve had known each other forever.

The problem is, you never mention any of this to Namjoon, in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you had a proper conversation with him, the realization and the guilt hits you like a truck, but you brush it off as you grip your coffee cup a little harder, focusing back to Jungkook’s voice as he tells you about the latest videogame release he was looking forward to, his excitement putting your mind at ease, Jungkook notices the sad look in your eyes, but he also notices the way it fades after you look at him, and he can’t help but to smile as he relishes on the fact that he’s making you put your husband as a second priority, making you forget who was supposed to be the only man in your life.

He smiles proudly as he looks at you, the adoring look on your eyes tells him that you would be ready for him in no time, all he needs to do now it’s sit back, and watch your marriage crumble right before your eyes without you even noticing it.

Namjoon notices everything about you.

He notices when you’re about to get sick and takes care of you before it can escalate, he notices that when your period is about to begin you cry onto his chest because you don’t want him to leave the bed, he notices when you’re feeling sad but don’t want to bother him with your feelings, always there for you to hold you into his chest and let the world keep going while you hide into his warm embrace.

But Namjoon hasn’t been able to notice any of this in the past few weeks, all because you spend day and night out with that boy.

He was furious when he saw the camera footage from the first session you had, the two of you just seemed way to invested on each other, but when you came home that day, you were smiling from ear to ear, and when he asked you about how your day went, you simply responded with “One of the best days I’ve had in a while”, and his chest hurt when he realized you weren’t talking about him.

He’s been trying to put a little more trust on you, you seemed to be fond of this kid for some reason and it was cute enough at first, but you got attached way to quickly in his opinion.

He knows that you started to see him outside of work, and that was enough to put him on the edge, but he decided to test you, see how far you’ll go just to spend time with him, and Namjoon took quite a hit once he realized just how invested you seemed to be on this patient of yours.

He felt as if he was dying whenever the private investigator came back to him with a folder full of pictures of the two of you, eating, laughing, and crying together, hugging each other with such an intensity that could even be capture in a photo, Namjoon couldn’t believe that he was watching his wife slip out of his arms so easily, and the worst thing was, he felt like there was nothing he could do other than to watch her pull away from him, the misery of her putting him aside for someone she hasn’t even known for so long.

Everything came crashing down tonight, as he got off from work to come home earlier than usual, wanting to surprise you with the largest bouquet he’s ever given you before, you’ll come back to your senses and the kid would have to back off, everything would return to normal and you were going to be okay, because your marriage is that strong.

But Namjoon was not welcomed by your sweet smile and loving embrace, he was greeted by a cold and empty home, with his wife spending a Friday night out with another man, a day that has been solely dedicated for him, and Namjoon just snaps.

Trashing the bouquet against the wall, he angrily makes his way to his home office and closes the door with a loud bang.

Ever since meeting that boy, you started to get more distracted at work with your other patients, you have not answered any of your friends worried text about your wellbeing with something that wasn’t “I’m busy”, you have barely look at him ever since that stupid kid came into your office, he doesn’t know what he has done to you, but you almost seemed bewitched by him, Namjoon knew you were a caring person, he knew that you always gave your best to all of your patients, but even your friends have realized that this was different, and you not showing up tonight was the final push that made him take the harsh route, he never likes to hurt you, but he would rather for you to suffer now and get over it quickly than for you to get more attached to that boy, he has to end this sudden infuriation of yours, and he must do it now.

You come home late again tonight.

When you opened the door to your home, you were surprised to find the lights in an extremely low setting, to be fair, it was already past midnight, but whenever you get home late, Namjoon always waits for you in the living room, glasses on with a book in his hand and his comfy clothes on, it’s a cute sight to be welcomed home but now it’s nowhere to be seen, there’s only some flowers spread out in the floor, making a complete mess in the living room, confused and taken aback by this, you leave your purse and coat on the hanger and make your way upstairs to find where your husband might be.

He wouldn’t be asleep, he never likes to go to bed without you, he’s definitely not in your bedroom, but when you look over his office door, you see that the lights are on due to the small space between the door and the floor, you then make your way to his office, not bothering to knock as you just open the door, but the sight that greets you makes you shiver.

Namjoon rarely drinks.

He’s never been a big fan of alcohol, you can count with only one hand the rare occasions that you’ve seen him drinking, he often said he didn’t saw the point of getting drunk, so therefor it was only natural that he stayed away from any types of alcohol, so to find him like this, with a drink on his hand while a half empty bottle that had only served as decoration before is on his desk, you can’t help but to feel worried, you quickly made your way to his side and stare down at him as he continues to focus on the drink in his hand.

“Namjoon?” You tried to gain his attention by talking to him and you can’t help but to frown when he ignores you “Honey are you alright?” Namjoon smirks and takes a deep breath before setting his glass next to the bottle on his desk, he turns to look at you and you can’t help but to feel worried as you take a good look on your husbands face for the first time in weeks, and the first thing you notice is how his entire body screams exhaustion, Namjoon looks tired, it hurts to see him like this, you wrap your arms around him whilst sitting on his lap, he quickly welcomes your embrace and buries his face onto your neck, taking a long, deep breath as his hands rub your back, your heart feels heavy once you realized that you haven’t hugged him like this in a while, and it hurts even more when you realize it’s all your fault.

“What’s wrong baby?” You run your fingers through his hair, and he lets a dry chuckle after your question, he pulls his head out of your neck and looks at you for a moment before he speaks.

“How was your day darling?” Normally, you would be thrilled to answer his question, but the tone in which he was asking you this now made you frown, he sounded sarcastic, and Namjoon has never spoken to you like this before.

“What do you mean?” You try to play innocent as you realize that his question has a double meaning, he raises an eyebrow and one of his hands reaches your hip, which he grips on tightly while he maintains eye contact with you, the angry look on his eyes makes you gulp unvoluntary.

“What day is it?” The lack of a term of endearment, and his unexpected question takes you by surprise, what could he possibly mean by that?

You don’t answer right away, but after thinking just for a moment you came to the realization that today is Friday, and you weren’t home to receive your husband at the front door.

Namjoon waits patiently for your answer, and you feel horrible when you realize just how much you’ve been neglecting your husband for the sake of spending time with one of your patients.

“Oh, Namjoon, baby I’m sorry” He’s so mad but he can’t be angry at you for too long, especially not now when you’re looking at him with tears in your eyes, he places a hand on your cheek, and you greedily accept his affection towards you.

“I’m not mad at you love, I’m just confused, and a little hurt if I’m being honest” He’s being anything but honest right now, if you weren’t so invested in that boy he would’ve already killed him with his bare hands “Why are you spending so much time with your patient darling? What’s going on?” His voice cracks and the guilt has finally catch up with you, tears roll down your face as you place one of your hands on the back of his neck.

“I just- I really don’t know” Your tears are enough to make him fold, he brushes off your tears and gives you a small smile before talking.

“You know it’s wrong now, do you?” You feel like a child as you nod “And you know that whatever kind of friendship you have with this patient needs to stop, don’t you love?” It takes you a little bit more time than with his last question, but you end up nodding your head anyway, Namjoon smiles wider after you answer and pats your cheek, which makes you giggle.

“I’m really sorry…” You try to apologize again but he doesn’t let you, interrupting you with several quick pecks that make you laugh, and when he stops you can see that he’s smiling too.

“It’s okay love, besides” Namjoon gives you a wicked smile as his hand makes it’s way to your crotch “You know you can make it up to me in different ways”

You should’ve known you wouldn’t even make it to the bedroom, Namjoon wasn’t exactly patient when it came down to have his way with you, so it really didn’t surprise you that you were currently being fucked in the hallway, a small piece of furniture was the only thing that was keeping you away from falling into the ground, your pants were discarded somewhere in Namjoon’s office, you were both still practically clothed but he was a men on a mission, and his mission was to show you just how much he had missed you this past couple of weeks.

His soft hands grip tightly onto your hips as you claw your nails onto his back, Namjoon hisses and starts thrusting even harder, making you moan even louder, he buries his face into your neck to place sloppy kisses as you reach out to take one of his hands away from your waist and placing it on your neck, Namjoon lets out a deep growl at your actions.

“You couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t you my love?” Namjoon says into your ear “Always have to be a good little whore for me” He presses down onto your neck, and it only takes a couple of more thrust for you to be on the edge of an orgasm.

Namjoon knows your body like the back of his hand, and when your bottom lip starts to quiver and your legs begin to shake, he knows you’re about to come, so he keeps on thrusting hard and fast until you climax, holding onto his shoulders for dear life until he reaches his own, he puts his head on your chest as you’re both panting, taking a moment after such an intense orgasm and you can’t help but to let a small out of breath laugh when you think how ridiculous you must look right now, Namjoon chuckles and leaves several kisses on your chest before reaching out to your neck and then your lips, giving you a sweet peck before his hands reach for the back of your tights and picks you up easily as you giggle.

“Let’s go take a bath, huh?” Namjoon says before placing a kiss on your forehead, you nod as you cuddle into his chest, carrying you in his arms, he makes his way into your bedroom, having a small conversation as he walks, and you’re both blissfully unaware of the small red blinking dot coming from the end of the hallway.

Jungkook leans back into his chair as he stares into his screen, he has done this countless of times before, the closes way he’s ever had to be somewhat intimate with you, but after these last couple of weeks, Jungkook knows that’s about to change soon, his plan has been successful so far, he only needs a little more time so he can finally have you by his side, so he can finally call you his.

He exits the security camera as he watches you and Namjoon leave the frame, Jungkook looks down at his hand as he smiles and takes a deep breath after such an intense orgasm, he reaches out for a box of tissues he keeps on his desk for this occasions, as he cleans himself up, Jungkook can’t help but to think about how beautiful you looked when you were so lost in pleasure, he wonders if you would let him do the same things you let your husband do.

It's fine if you don’t, Jungkook thinks, he’ll just have so much fun breaking you down until you submit to him that it won’t matter if you let him or not.

He’s going to have you, regardless if you agree or not.

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